We are so excited to bring you the Chapter One Reveal for WALK THE EDGE by Katie McGarry! WALK THE EDGE is a Young Adult Contemporary Romance being published by HarlequinTeen and is a part of Katie McGarry’sThunder Road Series. It is being released on March 29th, 2016. Be sure to pre-order your copy and unlock special content today!
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WALK THE EDGE
Chapter One
THERE ARE LIES in life we accept. Whether it’s for the sake of
ignorance, bliss or, in my case, survival, we all make our choices.
I choose to belong to the Reign of Terror Motorcycle Club. I choose to
work for the security company associated with them. I also choose to do this
while still in high school.
All of this boils down to one choice in particular—whether or not to
believe my father’s version of a lie or the town’s. I chose my father’s lie. I
chose the brotherhood of the club.
What I haven’t chosen? Being harassed by the man invading my front
porch. He’s decked out in a pair of pressed khakis and a button-down straight
from a mall window. The real question—is he here by choice or did he draw the
short stick?
“As I said, son,” he continues, “I’m not here to talk to your dad. I’m
here to see you.”
A hot August wind blows in from the thick woods surrounding our house,
and sweat forms on the guy’s skin. He’s too cocky to be nervous, so that dumps
the blame of his shiny forehead on the 110-degree heat index.
“You and I,” he adds, “we need to talk.”
My eyes flash to the detective badge hanging on the guy’s hip and then
to his dark blue unmarked Chevy Caprice parked in front of my motorcycle in the
gravel drive. Twenty bucks he thinks he blocked me in. Guess he underestimated
I’ll ride on the grass to escape.
This guy doesn’t belong to our police force. His plates suggest he’s
from Jefferson County.
That’s in the northern part of Kentucky. I live in a small town where
even the street hustlers and police know each other by name. This man—he’s an
outsider.
If lip through my memory for anything that would justify his presence.
Yeah, I stumbled into some brawls over the summer. A few punches thrown at guys
who didn’t keep their mouths sealed or keep their inflated egos on a leash, but
nothing that warrants this visit.
A bead of water drips from my wet hair onto the worn gray wood of the
deck and his eyes track it. I’m fresh from a shower. Jeans on. Black boots on
my feet. No shirt. Hair on my head barely pushed around by a towel.
The guy checks out the tats on my chest and arms. Most of it is club
designs, and it’s good for him to know who he’s dealing with. As of last
spring, I officially became a member of the Reign of Terror. If he messes with
one of us, he messes with us all.
“Are you going to invite me in?” he asks.
I thought the banging on the door was one of my friends showing to ride
along with me to senior orientation, not a damned suit with a badge.
“You’re not in trouble,” he says, and I’m impressed he doesn’t shuff le
his feet like most people do when they arrive on my doorstep. “As I said, I
want to talk.”
I maintain eye contact longer than most men can manage.
Silence doesn’t bother me. There’s a ton you can learn about a person
from how they deal with the absence of sound. Most can’t handle uncomfortable
battles for dominance, but this guy stands strong.
Without saying a word, I walk into the house and permit the screen door
to slam in his face. I cross the room, grab my cut off the table, then snatch a
black Reign of Terror T-shirt off the couch. I shrug into the shirt as I step
onto the porch and shut the storm door behind me.
The guy watches me intently as I slip on the black leather cut that
contains the three-piece patch of the club I belong to. Because of the way I’m
angled, he can get a good look at our emblem on the back: a white half skull
with fire raging out of the eyes and drops of fire raining down around it. The
words Reign of Terrorare mounted across the top. The town’s name,
Snowflake, is spelled on the bottom rocker.
He focuses on the patch that informs him I’m packing a weapon. His hand
edges to the gun holstered on his belt. He’s weighing whether I’m carrying now
or if I’m gun free.
I cock a hip against the railing and hitch my thumbs in the pockets of
my jeans. If he’s going to talk, it would be now. He glances at the closed
door, then back at me. “This is where we’re doing this?”
“I’ve got somewhere to be.” And I’m running late. “Didn’t see a warrant
on you.” So by law, he can’t enter.
A grim lift of his mouth tells me he understands I won’t make any of
this easy. He’s around Dad’s age, mid to late forties. He gave his name when I
opened the door, but I’ll admit to not listening.
He scans the property and he has that expression like he’s trying to
understand why someone would live in a house so small. The place is a vinyl
box. Two bedrooms. One bath.
A living room–kitchen combo. Possibly more windows than square footage.
Dad said this was Mom’s dream. A house just big enough for us to live
in. She never desired large, but she craved land. When I was younger, she used
to hug me tight and explain it was more important to be free than to be rich. I
sure as hell hope Mom feels free now.
An ache ripples through me, and I readjust my footing. I pray every damn
day she found some peace.
“I drove a long way to see you,” he says.
Don’t care. “Could have called.”
“I did. No one answered.”
I hike one shoulder in a “you’ve got shit luck.” Dad and I aren’t the
type to answer calls from strangers. Especially ones with numbers labeled
Police. There are some law enforcement officers who are cool, but most of them
are like everyone else— they judge a man with a cut on his back as a psychotic
felon.
I don’t have time for stupidity.
“I’m here about your mother.” The asshole knows he has me when my eyes
snap to his.
“She’s dead.” Like the other times I say the words, a part of me dies
along with her.
This guy has green eyes and they soften like he’s apologetic. “I know.
I’m sorry. I’ve received some new evidence that may help us discover what
caused her death.”
Anger curls within my muscles and my jaw twitches. This overwhelming
sense of insanity is what I fight daily. For years, I’ve heard the whispers
from the gossips in town, felt the stares of the kids in class, and I’ve sensed
the pity of the men in the Reign of Terror I claim as brothers. It’s all accumulated
to a black, hissing doubt in my soul.
Suicide.
It’s what everyone in town says happened. It’s in every hushed
conversation people have the moment I turn my back. It’s not just from the
people I couldn’t give two shits about, but the people who I consider family.
I shove away those thoughts and focus on what my father and the club
have told me—what I have chosen to believe. “My mother’s death was an
accident.”
He’s shaking his head and I’m fresh out of patience. I’m not doing this.
Not with him. Not with anyone. “I’m not interested.”
I push off the railing and dig out the keys to my motorcycle as I bound
down the steps. The detective’s behind me. He has a slow, steady stride and it
irritates me that he follows across the yard and doesn’t stop coming as I
swing my leg over my bike.
“What if I told you I don’t think it was an accident,” he says.
Odds are it wasn’t. Odds are every whispered taunt in my direction is
true. That my father and the club drove Mom crazy, and I wasn’t enough of a
reason for her to choose life.
To drown him out, I start the engine. This guy must be as suicidal as
people say Mom was, because he eases in front of my bike, assuming I won’t run
him down.
“Thomas,” he says.
I twist the handle to rev the engine in warning. He raises his chin like
he’s finally pissed and his eyes narrow on me. “Razor.”
I let the bike idle. If he’s going to respect me by using my road name,
I’ll respect him for a few seconds. “Leave me the fuck alone.”
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WALK THE EDGE Synopsis
One moment of recklessness will change their worlds
Smart. Responsible. That's seventeen-year-old Breanna's role in her large family, and heaven forbid she put a toe out of line. Until one night of shockingly un-Breanna-like behavior puts her into a vicious cyberbully's line of fire—and brings fellow senior Thomas "Razor" Turner into her life.
Razor lives for the Reign of Terror motorcycle club, and good girls like Breanna just don't belong. But when he learns she's being blackmailed over a compromising picture of the two of them—a picture that turns one unexpected and beautiful moment into ugliness—he knows it's time to step outside the rules.
NOWHERE BUT HERE!
About Katie McGarry
Katie McGarry was a teenager during the age of grunge and boy bands and remembers those years as the best and worst of her life. She is a lover of music, happy endings, reality television, and is a secret University of Kentucky basketball fan.
Katie is the author of full length YA novels, PUSHING THE LIMITS, DARE YOU TO, CRASH INTO YOU, TAKE ME ON, BREAKING THE RULES, and NOWHERE BUT HERE and the e-novellas, CROSSING THE LINE and RED AT NIGHT. Her debut YA novel, PUSHING THE LIMITS was a 2012 Goodreads Choice Finalist for YA Fiction, a RT Magazine's 2012 Reviewer's Choice Awards Nominee for Young Adult Contemporary Novel, a double Rita Finalist, and a 2013 YALSA Top Ten Teen Pick. DARE YOU TO was also a Goodreads Choice Finalist for YA Fiction and won RT Magazine’s Reviewer’s Choice Best Book Award for Young Adult Contemporary fiction in 2013.
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