Contempt (Sin City Salvation #3) Read Online A. Zavarelli

Categories Genre: Angst, Biker, Contemporary, Dark, MC, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Sin City Salvation Series by A. Zavarelli

Total pages in book: 195
Estimated words: 185573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 928(@200wpm)___ 742(@250wpm)___ 619(@300wpm)

From USA Today Bestselling Author A. Zavarelli comes an angsty forbidden romance about second chances, forgiveness, and a love that conquers all.

Before the world knew me as a rock god, I was just the angry boy who stole her heart.

She was a good girl.

The forbidden fruit I wasn’t meant to taste.

Our stars were crossed, and fate had doomed us from the start.

She was promised to someone else.

I had her secret smiles.

Moments stolen in dark corners.

But I couldn’t have her future.

Destiny tore us apart, and all that remained was the ghost of her memory.

When she died, I did too.

But when I catch a glimpse of her five years later, alive and well, that love turns to hate as the bitter truth emerges.

She left me.

She lied.

And now, I’m going to make her pay.

This book is a standalone dark romance about a military veteran turned rockstar hero and the girl who stole his heart and never let it go.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter 1


Somewhere in my pitch-black soul

Hangs the memory of a girl I used to know

Entombed by darkness in a steel cage

She courts the master of my rage

In life or death, we’re chained together

Fate’s sadistic way of being clever

Sunlight won’t touch our bed of lies

We ripped out our hearts and watched them die

Cursed for eternity to a tormented sleep

She bolted the lock, and I threw away the key

My head sinks into the worn leather sofa as I pluck the strings on my guitar with calloused fingers. In a sea of leather-vested men, women, and beer, the lyrics get lost in an endless stream of chatter. The clubhouse is always a riot on weekends, and I prefer it that way. I can play without getting too wrapped up inside my head. The other guys don’t bother me, and the groupies know better than to approach me. Well, for the most part, anyway.

Tonight, a few have been edging my way. Ignoring them only makes them try harder. They take turns flouncing past me in their heels and short skirts, growing bolder with every pass. Play a song for us, Madden. We love your voice, Madden. Can I suck your dick, Madden?

Tossing them a glare, I wonder how they’ve conveniently forgotten why I ended up in this motorcycle club in the first place. They’re like those women who write love letters to serial killers in prison. Too deranged to touch with a ten-foot pole.

“You’re talking to yourself again.” Someone kicks my foot, and when I look up, the bearded barbarian staring back at me feels like a reflection in the mirror. Ace isn’t my brother by blood, but he may as well be. We’re both tall, inked, and look like we just escaped from the insane asylum. In my case, it’s not a far cry from the truth.

In this compound of miscreants under the scorched Nevada sun, he’s just another societal outcast haunted by his past. Or at least he used to be. Before he went and got himself a beautiful woman to slay the demons inside his head.

“I wasn’t talking to myself,” I grumble. “I was singing.”

“About club bunnies and beer?” His eyes roam over me with concern. “How much have you smoked today?”

“Enough to make me not give a fuck about anything.” I belt out that line like a song lyric as I strum the disjointed notes on my guitar.

Ace shakes his head and lumbers over to the chair across from me. He’s got disapproval stamped all over his face, and I know what’s coming. We’ve been through a lot of shit together during our time in the Beards of War. I’ve fought for him. I’ve killed for him. And should I ever need him to repay the favor, I know he wouldn’t hesitate. I respect him, but I don’t need a fucking babysitter, and I have no interest in hashing out the dark cloud hanging over my head tonight.

He tips his whiskey glass back and takes a pull, peering at me over the rim. “Lucian said you’ve been texting him all day.”

Fucking Lucian.

“Someone needs to remind him what attorney-client privilege means,” I mutter.

“He’s worried about you,” Ace grunts. “He told me they found another body in the Rio Grande, and he wants me to make sure you’re not losing your shit.”

Images from the news parade through my mind like a bad movie. I’ve been memorizing the details all day, searching the wreckage of my brain for the smallest spark of familiarity with that location. This is the fifth set of remains they’ve pulled from those riverbanks in the past six months, but this one is different. These bones are newer than the others.

Did I leave her there?

I toss my guitar aside and drag my hands over my face. The past wraps its claws around me, forcing her memory into a reality where she no longer exists. Her expressive dark eyes haunt me as tears leak from the edges, emotion ripping from her chest in soft, quiet sobs. I was the reason for those tears. And when I looked at her that night, it was easy to tell myself she’d be better off without me before she voiced the words that burrowed under my skin for eternity.

I wish I’d never met you.

It was the last wound she ever inflicted, and it was a fatal one. I’ve asked myself the same question at least a thousand times. Why the fuck did we have the misfortune of meeting if all we were going to do was drown each other?

Like clockwork, another thought explodes from the vault in my mind. Something so fucking dark, so goddamn evil, it makes me sick every time it rears its ugly head.

Maybe you did kill her. You couldn’t let him keep her. Not when she was supposed to be yours.