Riptide MC, Books 6
MC Romance
Date Published: June 6, 2026
Publisher: ChangelingPress
In my world, loyalty is everything and Wynter is mine. Mess with her,
you answer to me.
Wynter -- Scary Guy lived up to his name, threatening to rape me and sell me
as a whore. Not happening. I reached for the hidden blade at my ankle just as
a tattooed biker wearing a Riptide MC cut stepped in to save me. The dude knew
how to handle an asshole like Scary Guy without breaking a sweat. Gorgeous as
he is, this biker isn’t just eye candy. I find myself kissing him in the
middle of a crowd of nerds and superheroes. I have a thing for tough guys with
tattoos. My head tells me to run, but I want more. I want him.
Shadow -- I noticed her the second she slipped in front of us, alert and
watchful like she expected trouble just for existing. When some ape starts
pawing her, I step in. Nobody manhandles a woman in front of me. I pretend she
belongs to me, and she plays right along. I’m willing to do more than
just talk tough if the bastard won’t back off. When he proves how stupid
he is, attacking her in the parking lot, I’ve got the excuse I needed to
beat some sense into him. Wynter’s mine, whether she knows it or not.
Trouble’s not finished with her, and neither am I.
Excerpt
Copyright ©2026 Anne Kane
Wynter
I glanced over my shoulder. He was still there.
I’d dubbed him Scary Guy.
I tried to convince myself I was just being paranoid and the guy just happened
to be headed in the same direction as me. I’d never seen him before; I
was sure of that. You didn’t forget a face like his with a jagged scar
down the side of his cheek and a spider web with a skull in the center
tattooed on his neck. There was no reason for him to be fixated on me.
I certainly wasn’t the kind of woman men liked to fantasize over. I was
short, wiry, and dressed as a Browncoat, one of the characters out of my
favorite sci-fi series. I didn’t have a spectacular rack or an hourglass
figure and my hair hung in a single braid down my back, the only way I’d
found to keep it from exploding into a messy tangle.
I assessed him out of the corner of my eye. He was big and solid, although at
this distance it was hard to tell if that bulk was muscles or a beer belly. He
had on some kind of dark costume with a black cape that fell to mid-thigh.
This was a comic book convention, so his outfit wasn’t all that strange.
I had no idea who he thought he looked like. I swear ninety percent of the
people here wore capes of some type. It could be anybody or nobody.
He looked dangerous, though, the kind of guy you avoid being caught alone
with. Unfortunately, I was well acquainted with the type. I grew up in the
projects, daughter of a junkie too deep into her addictions to care about me.
Self-preservation meant I’d developed a sixth sense when it came to
creeps like this a long time ago.
I gave my head a mental shake. This may not be Dragon Con in Atlanta, but
there were still several thousand people here. He couldn’t just drag me
off to a dark room, even if he wanted to, so why did his stare send shivers of
apprehension down my spine?
As if he could sense my attention, the asshole grinned at me and licked his
lips. Yikes! If I had any doubt that he was focused on me, it fled right then
and there.
“Excuse me.” I shouldered my way between a young woman dressed as
Batwoman and a couple dressed as Shrek and his bride. Zigzagging back and
forth, I headed for the doorway. Maybe I could lose the creep in the crowd.
“Hey, watch it!” A Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle glared up at me
when I accidentally stood on her foot. This section of the event was crowded,
waiting for some promised celebrities to appear. I mumbled an apology and
continued to wade my way through the crowd, trying to recall the map
they’d handed me when I got here. The place was a warren of smaller
rooms radiating off a central hall. I should be able to find a spot to hide.
A quick glance behind me showed Scary Guy was following me. My heart rate
increased as adrenaline flooded my system. I had too much at stake right now
to be caught in an altercation with anyone.
The crowd parted in front of the jerk with no effort from him. I got it. One
glare from that face and no one wanted the kind of trouble it promised. I
still didn’t understand why he’d singled me out. Just my bad luck?
I felt like a rabbit being stalked by a coyote, looking for a hole to vanish
into. I just needed to get out of his line of sight long enough to dart into
one of those smaller side rooms and disappear.
It seemed like forever before I finally reached the doorway and plunged out
into the main hall. The crowds were thinner here, and I took advantage of the
opportunity to dash across to the far side and slide into the Marvel Comics
section.
Not surprisingly, the room was crowded, people packed in shoulder to shoulder.
For once my lack of height played to my advantage. Anyone scanning the area
from the entranceway would have a hard time seeing me when most of the
gathering towered over top of me. Making my way to the center of the room, I
turned to scan the area behind me.
Nothing.
Scary Guy was nowhere in sight. I let out a ragged breath and put a hand up to
my chest. I could feel my heart racing beneath my fingertips. So much for
being a brave member of the Resistance. All it took was one creepy guy to send
me scurrying for cover. He hadn’t even been that close to me, let alone
within touching distance.
I inhaled deeply, trying to remember the meditation class I’d once
attended. I needed to calm down. It’s not like this was the first time I
found myself running from the hint of danger. As a kid, my life had been
chaotic at best. My mother might have been a junkie who cared more about her
next fix than me, but in order to stay out of the foster care system,
I’d had to make sure she stayed alive.
Sometimes that meant doing things that could get me thrown into juvie, like
pick-pocketing for rent money. It was more luck than skill that I never got
caught. I became an expert at shoplifting and begging long before I hit double
digits. I had a plan, and I clung to it like a drowning man clinging to a life
raft. All I had to do was make it to sixteen without drawing the attention of
Child Protective Services, and I could split. Free from the threat of foster
care, I could do anything I wanted.
A simple plan, but a workable one.
Then my mom got pregnant again.
I have no idea who Star’s father is, and I doubt Mom did either. She was
at that point in her addiction where she would sleep with anyone for a fix so
there were lots of candidates to choose from, and none of them had names.
My little sister was born on a hot July day, in the back of a dealer’s
van, and I was instantly smitten. Somehow Child Protective Services
didn’t get wind of the birth, or they were too overworked to care about
one more kid who wouldn’t amount to much. Mom brought the baby home, and
I took over, making sure Star was fed and clothed and stayed alive.
I already knew how her life would go if I didn’t stick around, so
it’s not like I had a choice. Star blinked up at me with those big blue
eyes, and my heart melted. I promised myself then and there that I’d
look after her.
Star wasn’t exactly a normal name, but then neither was Wynter. Mom had
a thing for weird names. Maybe it came from having such a boring name herself,
or maybe she thought naming my little sister Star would give her a chance in
life. In her own way, when the need for a fix wasn’t consuming her, I
liked to think Mom cared about us.
My attention snapped back to the present. Something was happening in the front
of the room. A buzz of excitement swept through the crowd. I stretched up on
tiptoe to see, but there were three big guys in front of me blocking my view.
They laughed and joked with one another, oblivious to me or anyone else in the
crowd.
Gritting my teeth, I squeezed between them.
No wonder the crowd was so excited. From a partially hidden door up front,
four of the Marvel Avengers stalked into the room. Iron Man, Captain America,
and the Hulk all took their seats at the signing table while the Black Widow
stood up and swept the room with a piercing gaze. With a theatrical flourish,
she picked up the microphone from the table in front of her. Laughter and
excitement rippled through the crowd as she introduced herself and her
companions as if everyone present wasn’t very aware of who they were.
Showing off her agility with an impressive back flip, she landed in her seat
and indicated the signing was now open.
The crowd surged forward, carrying me along with it. I had no intention of
paying to have someone sign a comic for me, no matter how famous or agile they
were, but the crowd’s excitement was contagious. It didn’t cost
anything to watch, and if I got close enough, I might even be able to get a
picture of one of the fabled Avengers on my phone. Star would love that. She
was eight and loved comic books the way I loved to draw. I fished my phone out
of my pocket and let out a sigh of relief when I saw I’d actually
remembered to fully charge it the night before. Now I just needed to get close
enough to that table to snap a picture or two.
The hair on the back of my neck prickled, and I glanced behind me, expecting
to see Scary Guy. Instead, my gaze landed on the three big guys I’d seen
earlier, still laughing and joking with each other. I’d noticed that
they all wore leather cuts with some kind of logo on the back, and I’d
spent enough time on the streets to know what that meant.
It showed their motorcycle club affiliation, and not the granddaddy going for
a Sunday ride kind of club. That alone should have twigged my survival
instinct, but for some reason it didn’t. They certainly looked the part
of outlaw gang members. Tough, tattooed, leather-clad guys with muscles to
spare, they had that aura about them that spelled danger. Not a bunch
you’d want to mess with, especially if you were trying to convince the
courts you were a responsible, law-abiding citizen.
The biker in the center looked directly at me, and a slow grin spread across
his face. He lifted one brow as if questioning my attention. Damn, he was
mouthwatering, although maybe that wasn’t quite the word. Appealing?
Sexy? Tempting? Definitely not hard on the eyes. I could picture myself
licking my way down his…
I blushed, but I didn’t look away. He looked like the kind of guy who
wouldn’t be shocked by my home life or my mom’s abdication of her
parental responsibilities. Maybe a carnal distraction might help settle my
nerves before the court date.
A commotion erupted in the entranceway, pulling me out of my daydream. Scary
Guy and his buddies were pushing their way into the room, knocking other
attendees out of their way like might made right or some other stupid macho
shit. Abandoning my silent exchange with Sexy Biker, I pivoted to face the
front of the room. Hopefully Scary Guy wouldn’t be able to pick me out
of the crowd if he couldn’t see my face. Not like we were old buddies or
anything.
The Marvel characters were hamming it up, signing, and occasionally posing for
photos. A couple of conference workers dressed in shirts with the Marvel logo
on them were collecting money from the fans as they handed over comics to sign
or the fee for having their picture taken with one of the celebrities. When
the characters stood to pose with the fans, I managed to snap some shots with
my phone, although I wasn’t close enough for details. I could tweak the
pictures when I got back home, editing out the fans. With any luck, I’d
have a few usable pictures for Star to gush over.
I jumped as an enormous hand clamped down painfully on my shoulder.
“Thought you could get away, did you?”
Shit.
Scary Guy.
I couldn’t afford to just knee the asshole in the balls, tempting as
that was. The courts would definitely frown on that. Plastering a calm
expression on my face, I twisted around and drew my brows down in a puzzled
frown. “I’m sorry. Do I know you?”
His grin was pure evil. “Not yet, but I plan to fix that. You’re
coming with me to a place where we can get to know each other real
well.” Keeping his hand on my shoulder, he swept my body with a glance
that left me feeling dirty. “Real, real well.”
I shook my head, trying to resist the temptation to pull my knife out of its
hidden ankle sheath. “Sorry, but I don’t think my boyfriend would
like that.” I tried to shrug his hand off my shoulder. “He’s
a bit old-fashioned when it comes to things like that.”
Scary Guy dismissed my imaginary boyfriend with a flick of his hand.
“Where is he? My boys can take care of him.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I’m flattered you think I’m worth that
much trouble, but I’m going to pass. I have things to do today.” I
shrugged out from under his hand and took a step toward the back of the room.
The people around us were too wrapped up in the excitement of the Avengers to
pay any attention to my discomfort and shifted to let me through.
Scary Guy reached out to stop me, hooking one meaty hand into the belt at my
waist. I twisted in his grip, and anger mottled his expression. “I
don’t think you understand, bitch. I’m not asking you, I’m
telling you.”
So much for playing the model citizen.
I reached for my knife.
* * *
About the Author
Anne Kane lives in the beautiful Okanagan Valley with a bouncy little rescue
dog whose breed defies description, a cantankerous Himalayan cat, and too many
fish to count. She spent many years trying to fit in and act normal, but
finally gave up the effort. She started writing romance in 2008, and her fate
was sealed when she won a publishing contract with Red Sage Publishing and
just a month later Changeling Press accepted her first submission. Since then
she has published more than thirty stories in a variety of sub-genres, all
with a happily ever after.
She has two handsome sons and six adorable grandchildren and enjoys spending
time with them whenever she can. Her hobbies, when she’s not playing
with the characters in her head, include kayaking, hiking, swimming, playing
guitar, singing and of course, reading.
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