Title: Depraved
Series: American Street Kings, Book One
Author: Bella J.
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Publish Date: July 17, 2019
Review Source: Give Me Books Promotions
Obsession. It’s
an ugly thing.
It consumes you.
Controls you. Dictates your every move.
You can try to
fight it, try to resist. But its stronger than you. It always wins.
The day I first
saw her, obsession took root inside me. Suddenly there was nothing else. Just
her.
My obsession
left me no choice. I had to have her.
No matter the
cost.
No matter the
risk.
In the end she
will be mine.
Until then…I
wait.
Brooding, tough
MC men/brothers, war, mayhem and kidnapping. That pretty much sums up Depraved.
I have to say that although I totally dig this book, there were times that I
despised situations throughout the story.
The way that
Alyx was treated by Granite; whom was supposedly enamored by her, was so
completely wrong. I wanted to jump into the book and smack the crap out of him.
He is one angry, vile human being at times. And at others? A caring, compassionate
man. I did however, love the fact that although Alyx is a tiny “ballerina
girl”, she takes no gruff from anyone. No matter if it’s Granite or Onyx, she
gives back what she receives. Her no holds barred attitude had me rooting for
her, throughout the entire story. When things started to fall into place and
had you desperately wanting the two together, tragedy strikes, and you wonder
if there is any possibility of a happily ever after. What does the future hold?
Depraved does end
in a cliffhanger, so I can’t wait for the next in the series ... Defiant.
Chapter 1
Alyx
Midnight. The
witching hour. The time evil came out to play. It was also the time when they
arrived. The roar of engines sliced through the silence of night and set my
heart racing. My skin tingled, and heat spread through me like wildfire.
It was him. The
man I’d been watching from my bedroom window ever since they started coming
around. He would come once a week, and always around midnight. Three
motorcycles would be parked in the dark out front, and I would watch as he and
two other men made their way to our front door.
Leather cuts,
torn jeans, and shit-kicker boots set them apart from us and our designer label
clothing. Even in the dark they looked mean and callous.
One of them had
a clean-shaven head, and the other short hair, cut neatly. But him? He had
longer hair. Dark—the same color as midnight—and it settled just below his
shoulders. It was never styled, never neatly put in place, but always
disheveled. There was this thing he did with his hair after taking off his
helmet, pushing his fingers through the strands and pulling it back. It was
like he tried to make it seem more…chaotic. Messed up. Perfect.
From the second
floor of our house, it was easy to see his frame was bigger than the other two.
Long body, broad shoulders, denim jeans clinging to thick thighs. During the
last year, I had committed every inch of his frame to memory. Thinking about
him. Fantasizing…my stranger in the dark.
His weekly
visits were one of my father’s many secrets. A well-respected police
commissioner’s reputation would be ruined if the public knew about his ties
with one of New York’s most notorious motorcycle gangs. I never could figure
out what kind of business my dad would have with these men. But while I stared
from my window at the man in the shadows, I didn’t really care. The way my
heart kept racing, my stomach filled with a kind of excitement I’d never felt
before, I knew I had grown addicted to it. The thrill of watching him, studying
him…desiring him.
He never looked
around when he walked up to the front door. Under the dim light that came from
the porch, I could make out the contour of his face and the shadow of his
beard. But everything about him screamed business. Determination. Danger. Every
step he took was calculated, confident, and undeniably dominant. He was the
alpha, the leader—even I could see that.
The weekly
visits usually lasted about an hour, maybe less. And I would wait by the window
with so much expectation from the prospect of catching another glimpse of him,
because this was the exciting part. The part where he left. It was the part I
loved the most.
The front door
would open, and first I’d see their shadows falling on the well-manicured lawn
and cobble walkway. I would lean to the side of the window, my heart thumping
erratically inside my chest…waiting…anticipating.
Then he would
appear, his back toward me. The cut he wore told me who he was, a member of the
American Street Kings—a wicked skull with the American flag proudly displayed
on the leather. It was beautiful and threatening at the same time.
He’d reach his
Harley, and I would straighten, my heart wanting to crawl out of my throat. My
stomach would turn into a thousand knots within a split second as I watched him
throw his cigarette to the ground, pressing on the little yellow coal with his
boot. He would turn his head, glancing over his shoulder in my direction. Then,
finally, the moment I had been waiting for ever since I heard the roar of their
motorcycles coming down our driveway.
The moment when
he turned around and looked right at me. I swallowed hard, equal parts
excitement and fear running rampant inside me, but I refused to look away
because it was all there. It was there, in his eyes. I could see it all the way
from the second floor. The promise. The vow…the warning.
He would come
for me. One day. Whether I wanted him to or not.
All the way from
Cape Town, South Africa, Bella J lives for the days when she’s able to retreat
to her writer’s cave where she can get lost in her little pretend world of
romance, love, and insanely hot bad boys.
Bella J is a
Hybrid Author with both Self-Published and Traditional Published work. Even
though her novels range from drama, to comedy, to suspense, it's the dark,
twisted side of romance she loves the most.
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