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Pax (Hellriders MC)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Zoey Parker

Book Information:

He stole me to use me… and I let him have everything he wanted.
I just want to do my job: nursing people back to health.
So when I find a dying man on the side of the road, my instincts kick in.
But I should’ve stayed far, far away.

Because as soon as I stop to help, a man shows up.
He says his name is Pax, and that I have to come with him to help save this injured soldier.
And we have to leave… Right. F**king. Now.

It’s hard to say no to a man like Pax.
He towers over me, with tattoos inked on his broad chest and rippling biceps.
The bulging zipper of his jeans tells me he’s hungry to strip me bare.
And the heat between my legs wants him to do exactly that.

But right now, time is of the essence.
I swore an oath to care for human life.
I have no choice but to go along for the ride.

We manage to save his MC brother’s life.
But now there’s a new life in danger…

The same men who almost killed Peyton’s second-in-command are desperate for more innocent blood.
And now, my life is on the line.

I fear I’ll never make it home alive.

And when everything disintegrates, and I’m taken captive by cold-blooded monsters, my only thought is:
I hope I don’t die before I can tell Pax he’s the only man I’ll ever love.

PAX is a full-length, standalone, super steamy, bad boy motorcycle club romance novel from bestselling author ZOEY PARKER.

This suspenseful, action-packed MC romance is intended for mature audiences, due to violence, strong language, dark themes and elements, and explicit intimate scenes. The romance between the alpha male bad boy and the fiery woman he can’t resist ends with a guaranteed happily ever after (HEA) ending, has absolutely NO CHEATING, and does NOT include a cliffhanger of any kind.

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Zoey Parker Books

Chapter One


The night was brutal. The long hours are always bad, but tonight was especially… horrific. There was a twelve car pile-up over on the interstate between Richmond and Allerton. The whole area had to be closed off with traffic redirected, and from what I heard right before I left, they still hadn’t cleared up the backed-up traffic. But none of that was why it was awful for me. The traffic wasn’t important, though I was grateful for the heads up. That was why I was driving on the backroads towards home, even though under normal circumstances it would be twice as long as my normal route.

No, instead it was the carnage from the wreck that had tainted my, already long, day at work.

When the ambulances brought them in, I was both sickened and horribly relieved to find that only about ten of the eighteen passengers involved had survived long enough to actually make it to the emergency room. It was a wicked thought, but I knew that the fewer we had, the better our odds of saving them were.

And I wouldn’t feel responsible for having to pick which ones we could and couldn’t save.

My hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, so tight that my knuckles were turning white. I’d managed to keep the tears at bay, resolving to keep it together until I got home, but it was getting harder and harder. I could see the blood covering their clothing, clothing I cut away to reveal the oozing wounds. The blood was so dark it looked black, arterial instead of the bright red, superficial scraps most people thought of.

I took the right up ahead. I wasn’t as familiar with this road as I was with the interstate or the ones nearer to my house, and it was dark, too. It made it harder to see and to be sure that I was going in the right direction.

“I need to get that damn GPS fixed,” I muttered.

I didn’t use it often, but I could have done with it tonight. The problem with these backroads was that they weren’t very well lit, and I couldn’t see street signs until I was practically on top of them.

“Shit,” I told my windshield when I realized that I’d just passed the street I needed to turn off on. I needed to turn around.

Slowing down, I checked my rearview mirror and the road ahead of me. When I was sure that no one was coming—though really, who the hell would be out at one in the damn morning on some back road in the middle of nowhere—I pulled a sharp left, making a u-turn to head back the other direction. But there wasn’t quite enough room to turn around completely, and I had to choose between sliding into the ditch and backing up a little. Not comfortable with the idea of backing up on a road, even with it being this dead, I was getting ready to just half slide into the ditch to get the extra room when my lights hit something.

Or, more specifically, someone.

I slammed on the breaks, grateful I’d been going slowly. For a moment, I just stared out the window, eyes wide. The body was unmoving, and I felt knots twist in my stomach.

Oh God, please don’t let him be dead, I thought.

I’d seen enough death today—carnage like most people only saw in the movies. Now to find a body along the side of the road after work? I just didn’t think I could handle that. Shoving the car into park, I reached, with shaking fingers, for my phone and pepper spray, just in case. The guy looked unconscious at the very least, but I’d seen enough horror movies and watched the news often enough to know that I had to be careful. Swallowing harshly, I started to dial the police as I got out of my car.

I had the pepper spray in one hand while I held the phone up to my ear with the other. I wanted to go ahead and get the paramedics en route in case he was alive, and I wanted to make sure that I had someone on the line that could come to my rescue in case this was some elaborate setup.

“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?” The dispatcher was a woman with a nasally voice that sounded extremely bored. If I had to guess, she was one of those women who had done this job so long that the terrible things she encountered on the job no longer affected her like they should. I worked with more than a few people like that at the hospital. It was a terrible thing to see, but I understood it. Sometimes it was just too much. And if you let it get to you, eventually you would burn yourself out. I was always teetering on that edge, threatening to spill over into a mental breakdown if I wasn’t careful, but I’d always managed to pull myself out of it just in time.