Slate
Rebel Wayfarers MC, Book Two
All his life, Andy Jones has put everyone else first—family, friends, anyone who needed him. He’d bend over backward, even break himself, to ensure they had what they required. But when he finally claims a slice of freedom for himself, he revs up his motorcycle and hits the open road, savoring the rush of independence. His journey leads him straight to Chicago and into the orbit of Davis Mason, where he discovers a unbreakable bond of brotherhood—one he’d sacrifice everything to protect.
Raised in a quiet Wyoming town, Andy’s world shattered as a teenager when his father’s death tore his family apart. Desperate to support his younger brother and what remained of his kin, he roamed from gig to gig on his trusty Indian bike, chasing an elusive sense of purpose he couldn’t quite name. That all changes when he crosses paths with Davis Mason, the formidable President of the Rebel Wayfarers MC. Renamed Slate, Andy dives headfirst into club life—starting as a prospect and earning his full patch over time. At last, he’s found the camaraderie he’s craved: a true family, a place to belong, and a home on two wheels.
Yet one piece is still missing—a woman who can embrace every scarred, rugged part of him. He spots her in the club’s inner circle: a fiery MC daughter with quiet smiles, wild red curls, and irresistible curves that haunt his nights. Scarred by past betrayals, she’s guarded and hesitant, but Slate patiently chips away at her walls, forging a deep, passionate connection.
Just as their love ignites, shadows from yesterday crash in. Slate’s brother rolls into town with his rock band and a storm of chaos in tow. As old demons resurface and club tensions erupt, Slate can only watch in agony as the woman he adores is thrust into deadly peril. Will he defy the odds to shield her from the encroaching threats, or will their budding romance—and her very life—fall victim to the club’s brutal internal war?
Bingo’s Poetry from Slate
Bingo is our resident poet for the Rebel Wayfarers, and for Slate he gave us a whimsical piece that exposed his true love:
The Indian
Cherry red
Virgin white
Fringe on the seat
Chrome so bright.
Unbelieved, the beauty
Unbelieved, how right,
Seen in the shadowy glare
Of the parking lot sodium light.
Riderless but steady
Patient waiting now an art,
Found desire ponder
Manmade love, mechanical heart.
Bags packed
Belted tight
Key to the slot
Soul is light.
Unrelieved, the distance
Unrelieved, past miles,
Partners’ secret signals
Lessen love’s absent wiles.
Boots shuffle up, then down
Hearts pump their beated measure,
Fast paced yearning
Caress of breeze’s pleasure.
