Free Deadly Seduction by Selene Chardou

his kids off at St. Francis, a private Catholic grammar school which spanned from Kindergarten to Eighth grade. For high school, they would attend St. Joseph’s, another private Catholic high school.
     
    Yes, he came from a long lineage of outlaws but that didn’t mean they didn’t believe in God or justice. The public schools in Birch Tree were just fine but his kids only received the best. Plus, he and Gisela’s son attended a private Catholic high school.
     
    Their son, Conan, was extremely intelligent and a computer whiz, not to mention he’d skipped a grade and was a freshman at the ripe age of thirteen. He was a straight-A student who was popular with jocks, geeks, cool kids, and the teenage girls. However, due to who his parents were, he focused solely on schoolwork, sports, and not much else.
     
    Cillian was determined not to make a difference between any of his children and had followed in his aunt and uncle’s footsteps where his own two children were concerned.
     
    He arrived at the Clubhouse shortly after nine. He’d had to swing back to his place and load his Harley onto the flatbed of his truck before he drove back to Cox Towing and Auto Repair.
     
    Their legitimate business was towing vehicles, specifically for the local law enforcement. They towed and stowed every car that was taken from a particular driver due to insurance lapses, drunk driving and every other offense where it meant a person had their vehicle impounded. Most were never claimed again but they still kept them for the requisite thirty days before they sold them in bulk up to a car dealership in Portland, Oregon.
     
    The vehicles were removed from the State because it was important the owners were never able to track their vehicles down. They usually settled with the finance company for pennies on the dollar and they made good money with the arrangement they had with various used car lots in Portland.
     
    However, it was a needed and necessary front.
     
    Their real money came from the restoration of antique vehicles and motorcycles. Bookie, Cricket and Kink weren’t members just because they looked hot on a Harley and had tat sleeves; they knew their automotive shit in and out. The same way Loire, his half-sister and the club tat artist, knew how to draw on the canvas of human flesh. She was a natural and had done everyone’s work in the club.
     
    It didn’t matter she lived in L.A. When Dizzy called her, she ran and her partner, Nil Delvecchio, would pick up the slack while she was off on her tat jobs up here in Northern Nevada.
     
    Cillian liked to think he was a great mechanic but his true love was car and motorcycle restoration. Every upgrade he had on his Harley had been done by his own hands personally. His bike wasn’t just a machine but a mean bitch who was an extension of him. She’d saved his ass more times than he could count and he took care of her with precision and a fine eye for detail.
     
    He used the remote he had in the truck to open the heavily armed gates at the Clubhouse and compound.
     
    They were in the middle of a restoration project and therefore builders came and went. There was a panic room that would be able to withstand a C-4 bomb. Every room, including the main area, game room, chapel, and bedrooms for Club members were being upgraded. The whole place would be completely modernized by the time the restorations were completed.
     
    All the club members were getting new beds, and completely remodeled bathrooms while their chapel had already been redesigned. The glass was bulletproof and the place could withstand a lot of damage if the assailants got past the brand new fence that had barbed wire on top and could be electrified at the switch of a button.
     
    Every door into the compound had a different code and codes were changed weekly.
     
    The place would be a great place for a lockdown when all the work was finished in approximately four months.
     
    That meant the crew had to work through