Cover

The

Wicked

Truth

The Wickeds: Dark Knights at Bayside

Melissa Foster

Copyright Page

This is a work of fiction. The events and characters described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or living persons. The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all the materials in this book.

THE WICKED TRUTH

Copyright © 2022 Melissa Foster

V1.0

This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Cover Design: Elizabeth Mackey Designs

Cover Photography: Wander Pedro Aguiar

WORLD LITERARY PRESS

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright Page

A Note to Readers

The Wicked World

Playlist

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Epilogue

Ready for More Wickeds?

Meet Johnny Bad

Fall in love with Dare Whiskey

Love Melissa’s Writing?

More Books By Melissa Foster

Acknowledgments

Meet Melissa

A Note to Readers

Madigan Wicked has been one of my favorite characters since I first met her in TAMING MY WHISKEY (The Whiskeys: Dark Knights at Peaceful Harbor). She is feisty and confident, and having grown up with a gaggle of brothers and male cousins, she knows how to hold her own. But she’s suffered loss and heartbreak, and although she believes in love for others, she isn’t looking for it for herself. I knew her hero would have to challenge her as much as he adored her and connect with her in a fiery way in order for her to really open up to him. Tobias Riggs is strikingly handsome, broody, intelligent, and mysterious. Madigan Wicked has met her match, and I hope you love them as much as I do.

Music plays a large role in many of my stories, and as a musical storyteller, music plays a large part in Madigan Wicked’s life. I am forever grateful to my son Jake Foster (aka musician Blue Foster) for not only allowing me to use his lyrics in my stories but for also performing Madigan Wicked’s song “Kiss Off” so I could share it with readers. You can find “Kiss Off” on my website, Spotify, and all major music-streaming services, listed by (fictional) artist Madigan Wicked. Madigan also creates greeting cards, and I couldn’t resist creating her booty-call line. You can find them here: www.MadTruthAboutLove.com.

The Wicked novels are set on the sandy shores of Cape Cod Bay and feature fiercely protective heroes, strong heroines, and unbreakable family bonds. All Wicked novels may be enjoyed as stand-alone romances or as part of the larger series. On the next page you will find a character map of the Wicked world. You can also download a free copy here:

The Wickeds are the cousins of the Whiskeys, each of whom has already been given their own story. You can download the first book in the Whiskey series, TRU BLUE, and a Whiskey/Wicked family tree here:

TRU BLUE

WHISKEY/WICKED Family Tree

Remember to sign up for my newsletter to make sure you don’t miss out on future Wicked releases:

For information about more of my sexy romances, all of which can be read as stand-alone novels or as part of the larger series, visit my website:

If you prefer sweet romance with no explicit scenes or graphic language, please try the Sweet with Heat series written under my pen name, Addison Cole.

Happy reading!

~ Melissa

The Wicked World

Playlist

“You and Your Pain” by Blue Foster

“Unwritten” by Natasha Bedingfield

“The Sounds of Silence” by Simon and Garfunkel

“In My Blood” by Shawn Mendes

“Craving You” by Thomas Rhett and Maren Morris

“Elderly Woman Behind the Counter in a Small Town” by Pearl Jam

“InUrLife” by Blue Foster

“Tonight” by Blue Foster

“OCD Destroyer” by Blue Foster

“Like a Virgin” by Madonna

“Paint It, Black” by the Rolling Stones

“Kiss Off” by Madigan Wicked, performed by Blue Foster

Chapter One

TOBIAS RIGGS THOUGHT time had passed at a snail’s pace in prison. But while those three years had felt like ten, they had nothing on the pace at which time moved in the free world after he’d lost everything he loved.

He climbed off his motorcycle, planting his leather boots on the ground as he took off his helmet and looked up at the Salty Hog. He’d stumbled upon the rustic restaurant and bar several weeks ago, when he’d first come to the nondescript town of Harwich, Massachusetts. The bar catered to people from all walks of life, making it the perfect place for a guy like him to blend in. Helmet in hand, he headed up the wooden steps to the second-story bar. When he’d gotten out of the pen, he’d thought he’d never be able to smell anything but the rancid stench of hate, anger, and oppression, which had hung in the prison air, coating his lungs and seeping beneath his skin. It had taken a while for new scents to push past his mental armor. The salty air coming off the harbor brought bittersweet memories of his youth with a family who had adored him.

And now, with the exception of his grandfather, those who were left couldn’t even look him in the eye.

He wore those memories like a shield as he walked into the crowded bar. A dozen or so guys wearing black leather vests with Dark Knights motorcycle club patches on the back eyed him skeptically, just as they’d done every other time he’d been there. At six three, pushing two hundred and thirty pounds, he stood out, but he stood out less with big guys like them around, and that suited him just fine. He kept his eyes trained on the bar as he made his way through the crowd, but a sultry voice drew his attention to the stage, where the gorgeous mahogany-haired chick who had been tossing him flirtatious looks for weeks sat on a stool playing guitar and singing. He’d seen her perform a few times. She sang stories, not songs, and she looked hot as sin in a black miniskirt and gold-and-black strappy top that bared her stomach. One black leather boot was propped on the foot ring of the stool. The other tapped the floor as she played, and a taunting smile graced the sexiest mouth he’d ever seen. Those plump lips had fucked with his head since the first time he’d walked into the bar and had seen her watching him, but it was her curious, and somehow also challenging, sky-blue eyes tracking his every step that stirred a primal desire he’d kept locked down for years.

And that was exactly where it was going to stay.

He tore his gaze away and stepped up to the bar. The hot strawberry-blond bartender, who looked to be in her late forties or early fifties, offered a warm smile, nudging her tortoiseshell glasses to the bridge of her nose. “Haven’t seen you in a few days. What can I get you, darlin’?”

Her warm demeanor was comforting, which was another reason he liked being there. She reminded him of his mother, whom he’d lost when he was thirteen and whose absence felt even more pronounced without his sister, Carrie, chattering in his ear. “Beer’s good. Whatever’s on tap. Thanks.”

“Comin’ right up.”

As she got his drink, he watched Blue Eyes onstage. Her glossy hair hung past her shoulders, brushing the edge of her guitar, which looked too big for her petite frame. He listened a little more closely to the words she sang.

“I hate the feeling of just lying in bed

With my stomach so heavy it feels like I’m falling to my death

Too complicated to just give it a rest…”

Her voice was a captivating mix of huskiness and silk, but damn, that story was dark. Could such a pretty thing feel that way, too, or was she just making shit up for entertainment purposes?

“Here you go.” The bartender set his drink down in front of him and glanced at the girl onstage with admiration. “God, she’s good.”

“Yup.” He paid for his drink and went back to listening to the story.

“When you realize you’re the source of your pain

Will you make enough adjustments to make a change?”

Blue Eyes looked directly at him as she sang, stoking the embers he was trying to snuff out. Christ, those eyes and that voice were a lethal combination. But she was singing too fast, and the next few lyrics were lost to her speed. Tobias cringed, embarrassed for her, and turned away, wondering why she was rushing through such a powerful song. As he did, she slowed down again, and her gorgeous voice sailed into his ears.

“The lie is in the omission, my memory is in remission

Probably a mechanism to pretend whatever happened didn’t really happen

Well, whatever happened, happened anyway.”

She could have been singing about his life. He gritted his teeth as she strummed the last chord, and applause rang out. A cute brunette hollered, “Go, Mads!”

Blue Eyes inhaled deeply, her shoulders lowering just a fraction as she pushed to her feet, as if she were relieved to have gotten through the story. Tobias wondered if anyone else had picked up on that, but from the cheering crowd, he doubted it. If he hadn’t been through his own hell, he might have missed it, too.

“Thanks so much,” she said to the crowd. “That was called ‘You and Your Pain.’ Who’s going to see fireworks for the Fourth this weekend?” There was another round of cheers. “Be safe. I’ll be playing at the Rusty Anchor on Tuesday night. I hope you’ll come out and see me.”

Her gaze landed on Tobias again, only this time there was no taunting smile. She looked mildly annoyed. He had a feeling those luminous eyes could see right through to a person’s soul, and that was the last thing he needed. He turned away, focusing on his beer as she announced, “Now, let’s give it up for Carnal Beat.”

Applause rang out, and a minute later she strutted over to the bar, guitar in hand.

The bartender set a glass of water down in front of her. “That was great, sweetheart.”

“Thanks. But I don’t believe he thought so,” she said pointedly.

Tobias glanced at her out of the corners of his eyes.

“That’s right. I’m talking about you.” She planted her hand on her hip. “What was that look for?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Did you hear that, Aunt Ginger? The broody stranger speaks.” Blue Eyes smirked. “I told you he wasn’t a caveman.”

Cute and feisty. In another life, he’d be buying her a drink. He shook his head and guzzled his beer, catching her aunt’s amused expression. No wonder Blue Eyes was there nearly every time he came in. Did she have a thing for being around family, or was Harwich that small a town?

“Come on. Spit it out,” she pushed. “I know a distasteful expression when I see it. I can take criticism. I’m a professional.”

If he’d learned one thing in his twenty-eight years, it was that when women asked for criticism, they didn’t really want to hear it. Responding usually caused an argument, and there was no winning an argument with a woman. They had a knack for dredging up everything a guy had ever said or done, as if they’d not only kept notes but were being fed information by osmosis from acquaintances and exes. Or worse, they gave the silent treatment, and after the argument was over, when they said they were cool, they usually weren’t. Women tucked away that shit like ammunition for an automatic weapon and pulled it out when you least expected it.

He finished his beer and set down his empty glass. “I got nothing to say.”

“You come in here and never talk to anyone; then you cringe when I’m onstage but refuse to tell me why. A big guy like you shouldn’t be afraid to speak his mind.” She stared him down with the confidence of a lioness sizing up her prey.

Sexy as sin.

And lethal as cyanide.

Her aunt glanced over from where she was making a drink for another customer and arched a brow.

Great. He’d look like an ass if he refused again. Clearing his throat, he turned to the pushy sexpot with her too-short flouncy skirt and bare stomach, which was just begging to be touched and licked, and…Fuck. Biting back those thoughts, he gave her what she’d asked for. “That was a powerful story. Slow it down and your words will have a bigger impact.”

Her eyes widened, then instantly narrowed as another sexy smirk slid into place. “I think I know how to tell a story. I’ve been doing this for years.” The humor bled from her voice. “Nobody else thought it was too fast. Didn’t you hear the applause? What do you know about music? You sure don’t look like Simon Cowell to me.”

This chick was a triple threat, as tough as she was cute and feisty, which spelled his favorite kind of trouble. Trouble he couldn’t afford to get mixed up with.

“Sorry I said anything. It won’t happen again.” He pushed to his feet and pulled a twenty from his pocket, nodding to Ginger as he put the money on the bar. “Her next drink is on me.”

“I don’t need your money,” Blue Eyes snapped.

“Sounds like somebody struck a nerve.” Ginger winked at him and went to help another customer as two dark-haired bikers strode up to Blue Eyes, openly sizing up Tobias.

“What’s going on?” the taller of the two asked, setting a serious stare on him.

“He giving you trouble, Mads?” the heavily tatted one asked, puffing out his chest as two more guys in black leather vests with enough ink on their skin to fill a novel strode over with icy stares.

Fuck.

Tobias readied for a fight, muscles flexing, feet shifting, mentally choreographing how it would play out. He was no stranger to unfair fights, no matter how he tried to avoid them. He’d take a few hits, but he’d pummel them in the process, taking at least two down with him. Memories impaled him—the crack of bones against his knuckles, the thud of his best friend landing on the floor, and the agonizing hell that had followed. Clenching his jaw tighter, he unfurled his fists. He was not doing this. Not tonight. Not ever again.

Tobias held his hands up. “Nah, man. I was just leaving.” He reached for his helmet and turned to leave, but the two latecomers blocked his way.

“Mads? What’d he do?” the tallest one seethed.

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t need your protection, Blaine. He didn’t do anything. He just didn’t like my performance.”

“No shit?” another asked, eyeing Tobias. “Why not? Mads is a killer storyteller, and she’s my songwriting partner, so if you got a beef with her, you’re gonna have to deal with me.”

“Just let it go, Zander.” She pushed past them, stalking toward the table where the cute brunette who had cheered her on was sitting.

“Stay away from our sister, or we’re going to have trouble,” the guy she’d called Blaine ordered, and motioned for the other guys to step aside.

“Boys,” Ginger warned. “Leave that man alone. He didn’t do anything wrong.”

Tobias appreciated her support, but Blaine was right. That blue-eyed firecracker was exactly the kind of trouble he’d like to get into, which was why he headed for the door.

MADIGAN THREW HERSELF into a chair beside Marly Bowers, one of her besties, watching the broody bastard stalk out the door. “Can this day get any crappier? This morning my Vespa started acting funny, then a kid threw up at my puppeteering gig, and I stopped for coffee on the way here, only to spill it all over myself. I had to run home and change, which is why I was late, and now I have to scratch that hottie off my fantasy list. It’s a shame, too, because he’s even hotter up close, and he’s got that gruff, gravelly voice that you know sounds freaking hot in the dark. I could really use some of that in my fantasies.”

“In real life too, Mads. It’s not like you’ve been dating much since you moved back to the Cape.”

Wasn’t that the truth? She and Marly had never been jump-in-the-sack kind of girls, no matter how much they talked like they were. Madigan had tried no-strings-attached hookups a couple of times since she’d stopped traveling and had moved back to the Cape about two years ago, but she hadn’t enjoyed them. Still, she hoped she could enjoy it with the right guy, because while Marly was looking for a long-term relationship that would lead to love, Madigan had been in love once, and she had no interest in opening herself up to that kind of heartbreak again. But she was still a twenty-five-year-old woman, and she had needs battery-operated boyfriends couldn’t satiate, like toe-curling kisses and a set of strong arms around her.

“Why do you have to scratch Mr. Mysterious off your list? There were serious sparks flying between you two when you were singing. I was like, You go, girl.” Marly could have any guy she wanted. She was fun, easygoing, and flat-out gorgeous, with long dark hair, olive skin, and almond-shaped eyes. She was also the founder of Head Safe, a national motorcycle helmet program she’d developed after losing her brother to a reckless motorcycle accident. She’d been the first one to spot Mr. Mysterious several weeks ago, but she didn’t date men who drove motorcycles, and she’d said he was too broody for her.

Broody and a little closed off worked for Madigan. She’d grown up in a biker family, and some of her favorite men were that way, including the broodiest of all, her cousin Tank.

“I thought so, too,” Madigan admitted, although she’d never been one to spill all of her secrets. She didn’t tell Marly that she’d felt an unfamiliar hum of something deep and undeniable between them. A connection that went beyond two strangers catching each other’s attention across a crowded room, as if they were supposed to meet. Was that even possible? Or was her mind playing tricks on her? It wasn’t like she was looking for a connection, but she’d watched the sexy stranger listening intently to her story, and she’d seen pain in his brooding eyes. Pain caused by her words, and she wanted to know why.

“Then what went wrong?” Marly urged.

“He made a face when I was performing, as if I were massacring the story.” The truth was, she had rushed through the story, but she hadn’t thought it was noticeable. It was a difficult story to tell, and she shouldn’t have even tried when she’d had such a frustrating day, but it just came out, and with that gorgeous broody guy watching her, she’d gotten a little nervous and had tried to get through it even faster.

“That jerk. He should be off your list. Is that why your brothers looked like they were going to rip him apart?”

Madigan’s older brothers, Blaine, Justin—who went by the road name Maverick, except at work and with his wife—Zeke, and Zander, could be a tad overprotective. She loved them for wanting to keep her safe, but at twenty-five, she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself.

She gave Marly a deadpan look. “No. He has a penis; therefore he doesn’t belong anywhere near their baby sister.”

Marly giggled. “It’s a good thing they’re hot, because they’re the worst cockblockers.”

“Clamjammers,” Madigan corrected her.

“Ew. That sounds gross.”

“Really? I heard some girls say it at one of my gigs the other night, and I kind of like having our own saying.”

“Can we not?”

“Whatever. I’m too annoyed to argue,” she said as their friend Starr, who also happened to be their waitress, set a fruity drink down in front of Madigan.

“I’ve got you, girl.” Starr was a single mother to an adorable toddler named Gracie. She had one nostril pierced, her kinky blond hair lay like a thick mane down her back, and the colorful tattoos on her arms were on display in her Salty Hog tank top. “It’s sweet enough to make up for the sour shit I just witnessed. I don’t know what went down between you and that guy, but be careful. He doesn’t seem like he’s looking for company, and he sure pissed off your brothers.”

“Yeah? Well, he pissed me off tonight, too.” Madigan took a drink. “You guys know how long it’s been since a guy has piqued my interest enough to make me consider hooking up, and Mr. Mysterious had definitely piqued my interest.” He’d piqued a lot more than just her interest. Thoughts of him had pulled her through many long, lonely nights. “It figures I’d be attracted to the one guy who thinks my performance sucks.” Although she still couldn’t shake the feeling that he was right, or that his noticing the imperfection seemed important. Like it was part of that connection she felt.

Or maybe I’m just losing it at the end of a stressful day.

“He obviously doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Starr said.

“She’s right,” Marly agreed. “You were amazing up there.”

“No, I wasn’t.” Madigan sighed. “I was a little off my game, but he didn’t have to make a face.”

“If I were you, I’d make Dante your new hookup destination.” Starr gazed up at the shaggy-haired guitarist playing his heart out onstage.

“He’s got that whole edgy musician thing going on,” Marly said.

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