Old Lady of the Iron Crown

y P

oorway of the armored coach, his breath c

ottle and stained with the blood of gang wars-hung

oked, broken sob tore

shoved past his mountain of a shoulde

ng violently, terrified that if she to

those fierce, dark eyes that mirrored my own.

heekbones, the amber flecks in her

that had weathered thirty years of

my heart to survive the abusive Vance foster home

pped past my lips, f

g wail, lunging forward to pull me

Madagascar vanilla, and hot gun oil-the scent

twenty years, a mother

f her shoulder and let twenty years o

rought cartel bosses and federal task forces to the

ide of my face with terrifying gentlen

ing into pure, raw agony as tears tracked through his battle scars. "Dadd

t Mama El's neck, my t

against my forehead, holding me as if I were t

clear pods where my newborn twin

ite reverence, reaching out with a single fi

ht Cross royalty into the world, baby girl. Every dime, every charter, every single acre this

r-stained face radiant with

sps of her own leather vest-the legendary cut worn by

nd my shoulders, wrapping me i

clared, kissing both of my cheeks, "you answer to no

was so thick it made my

rms, the crude needle marks from the back-alle

in his face died i

k over the warlord's features,

, his spine rigid, towering

ing the ballistic glass shudder. "Who put my daughter

. President of the local Raven chapter. He threw her out tonight to celebrate his new girl's

bulkheads, his fist smashing into the reinforced w

every chapter from Reno to Vegas! I want every Raven dog skinn

my voice cutting through

dical bay wen

dripping with his own blood where the steel had split

ighter around my shoulders, si

k my youth. He mocked my babies. I don't want him executed in the dark. I want him to watch me

stared at me in

grin of pure pride split

my girl! That's pure Cross blood! Hear that, boys? The princess wants the

s, a wicked, conspiratorial

Mama El said, leaning close to tap my cheek, "it's

, puzzled

tion wall. The frosted ballistic glass

crowding the cabin with an overwhelming aura of le

neck to his jawline. His unbuttoned cut exposed a broad chest scarred by gunfights, yet looking at me, his brutal,

and silver rings gleaming on his scarred fingers. He wore his cut with effortless, wild swagger, his piercing sapphire

se. In his crisp black shirt and clean leather gloves, he was the picture of lethal, intellectual control-a calcul

hick and electric under thr

had caught the canary, gestur

st weapons," Mama El whispered loudly, winking at me. "Brothe

s, scowling like a grumpy be

o ride with, the enforcer to guard your bed, or the doctor to take care of your bod