Devil's Boneyard MC (#13)
Romantic Suspense / MC Romance
Date to Be Published: April 25, 2025
Publisher: Changeling Press
Sometimes, to find yourself, you have to get lost in the shadows. Are you ready to embrace the darkness?
Zara: My mother vanished without a trace, and no one seems willing to help. Except for one enigmatic figure whispered about in hushed tones: the Angel of Death, Azrael, a guardian of justice who ensures bad men meet their fate. I set out to find him. I didn't count on finding him to be the sexiest man I'd ever met, or falling for him. In his arms, I find an unexpected sanctuary. I should be terrified of his violent world, but he offers me safety and ignites a passion I've never felt before.
Azrael: I live in the shadows, doing whatever I must to protect those who have lost all hope. It's no place for a woman. Then I met Zara. Her fierce spirit and unwavering courage break down my walls. I'll stop at nothing to bring her mother home, even if it means I leave a trail of bodies in my wake. For Zara, I'd do anything, even walk through hell itself. I never wanted to fall in love... but now that I have, I'll do anything to keep my new family safe. I'm the monster who hunts other monsters, the one who defends those who can't protect themselves. Now I need to make sure that darkness doesn't touch those I love, or die trying.
Lose yourself in a world where love conquers fear, and courage fights against the darkness.
Excerpt
Copyright ©2025 Harley Wylde
I grabbed some paper towels and wet them, wiping at the blood spatters on my shirt. Better to have a wet shirt than one covered in red. When I was done, I washed my hands once more then dried them. As I stared at my reflection, I tried to see my mother in me. I’d never known my dad, but I liked to think I didn’t have a damn thing in common with him.
My mom been dead a long-ass time. Cancer took her slow, gave me time to say goodbye but not enough time to become the man she’d wanted me to be. College educated. Safe job. Family.
“Sorry, Mom,” I whispered. “Didn’t quite work out that way.”
Instead, I’d found the Devil’s Boneyard. Or they’d found me. Stripes had seen something in me. Potential, he called it. Cinder had given me purpose. The club had given me family.
Would she understand? I’d like to think so. Mom had been pragmatic about the world. “Sometimes good people have to do bad things to protect what matters,” she’d told me once, after I’d gotten suspended for breaking a bully’s nose. She hadn’t approved, exactly, but she’d understood.
The men in that alley weren’t good people. They would have brought poison into our town, destroyed lives, all for profit. I’d stopped that. Three lives against how many I’d potentially saved?
The math made sense to me, even if it wouldn’t have to her.
I checked myself in the mirror one more time. No visible blood. Nothing to attract attention. I ran my fingers through my hair and practiced looking normal. Not too hard. I’d gotten good at it over the years.
Before leaving, I wiped down everything I’d touched. The Devil’s Boneyard had friends in the police department, but certain habits kept you alive in this business. Attention to detail. Never get sloppy.
I unlocked the door. The attendant glanced up as I passed, his gaze moving over me in assessment.
“You look better,” he said, voice gravelly from years of cigarettes.
I stopped. “Better than what?”
He shrugged. “Than when you came in. Like maybe you found what you were looking for.”
Something about his stare made me take a closer look. The tattoo peeking out from his sleeve wasn’t just any ink. I recognized the style. Prison work.
“Maybe I did,” I said carefully. “You work here long?”
“Long enough to know when to mind my own business.” He tapped his finger against the counter. “Long enough to know what kind of men come through here needing to clean up.
I felt my muscles tense, ready for trouble. “That right?”
He nodded toward my cut. “Devil’s Boneyard. You boys do good work. Kept my sister’s kid off the shit when the Undead Serpents were running it through here. I respect that.”
I relaxed slightly. “Just doing what needs doing.”
“Heard there’s new players moving in. Minions or some shit.” He spat into a cup beside the register. “Bad news, those boys. No respect.”
“No respect,” I agreed. “And not long for this world if they keep pushing.”
He nodded, understanding passing between us. “Good hunting, brother.”
I pushed open the door, night air cool against my face. The town spread out before me, lights glittering in the darkness. Most people out there had no idea what happened in the shadows to keep them safe. They didn’t know about men like me, or the lines we crossed so they wouldn’t have to.
That was fine. Let them sleep easy. I’d carry the weight of what I’d done tonight. Add it to all the rest. It wasn’t a burden anymore -- just the price of the life I’d chosen.
I started my bike and pulled onto the empty street. The compound waited, and after that, more work to be done. The town needed cleaning, and I was just getting started.
I rolled through the gates of the Devil’s Boneyard compound just past midnight, the tension easing from my shoulders as I passed under the skull-adorned archway. Home. Or the closest thing to it I’d had in years. Floodlights illuminated the lot where dozens of bikes stood in neat rows, chrome glinting like scattered stars. Two Prospects snapped to attention as I pulled up.
“They’re waiting for you,” one of them said, not meeting my eyes directly. Smart kid. He’d learn the rules fast enough -- never look too eager, never too scared. Balance was everything in this life. After the shit we’d dealt with, we’d cracked down on the rules when bringing in Prospects. Too many rotten apples.
“How long they been in there?” I asked.
“‘Bout an hour. Stripes came in with news from town, then Samurai showed up. Charming’s still in his office.”
I nodded and headed for the clubhouse. The two-story building had been renovated recently. Now it was somewhere between a fortress and headquarters.
The heavy door opened to the sound of classic rock and the smell of whiskey, smoke, and leather. Our main room sprawled before me, all exposed brick and worn hardwood floors. The long bar against the far wall gleamed with decades of polishing. Trophy pipes and old photos covered the walls, history and legacy looking down on each new generation.
Three of my brothers played pool in the corner, their laughter cutting through Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Simple Man” pumping from the speakers. A couple of club girls lounged on the couches, one stretching like a cat as I walked in. She smiled, inviting. I gave her a nod but kept moving. Business first.
Stripes and Samurai sat at the bar, hunched over amber-filled glasses, their heads close in conversation. Stripes spotted me first.
“The hunter returns,” he said, his Russian accent thick as always. “Was beginning to think you’d fallen into trouble, brother.”
I slid onto the stool beside him. “Takes more than a few Minion punks to cause me trouble.”
The Prospect behind the bar, Harland, had a glass of Jack in front of me before I could ask. Smart kid. I took a long swallow, the burn a welcome friend after the night’s work.
“You find what Charming sent you for?” Samurai asked, his voice quiet.
“Found it and handled it.” I set my glass down. “Three of them doing a weapons exchange in the alley behind Murphy’s. High-end stuff -- Glocks, AR-15s, quality ammo. Not street-level shit. Bag is on my bike.”
Stripes whistled low. “They’re arming for war, then.”
About the Author
Harley Wylde is an accomplished author known for her captivating MC Romances. With an unwavering commitment to sensual storytelling, Wylde immerses her readers in an exciting world of fierce men and irresistible women. Her works exude passion, danger, and gritty realism, while still managing to end on a satisfying note each time.
When not crafting her tales, Wylde spends her time brainstorming new plotlines, indulging in a hot cup of Starbucks, or delving into a good book. She has a particular affinity for supernatural horror literature and movies. Visit Wylde's website to learn more about her works and upcoming events, and don't forget to sign up for her newsletter to receive exclusive discounts and other exciting perks.
Author on Facebook, Instagram, & TikTok: @harleywylde
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