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    Hide Your Crazy (KPD Motorcycle Patrol Book 1)


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      Hide Your Crazy

      Book 1 of The Kilgore Motorcycle Patrol Series

      By

      Lani Lynn Vale

      Text copyright ©2019 Lani Lynn Vale

      All Rights Reserved

      No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

      This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

      Dedication

      One day I’m going to get to the point where I know what to put here. I’m not there yet, though. Happy Mother’s Day.

      If it’s not Mother’s Day when you’re reading this, it was here when I wrote this particular dedication, so that still counts, right?

      Acknowledgments

      Chase Ketron - Model

      Golden Czermak - Photographer

      Ellie McLove & Ink It Out Editing- My editors

      Cover Me Darling - Cover Artist

      My mom - Thank you for reading this book eight million two hundred times.

      Kendra, Diane, Sarah, Kathy, Mindy, Barbara & Amanda—I don’t know what I would do without y’all. Thank you, my lovely betas, for loving my books as much as I do.

      Table of Contents

      Blurb

      Prologue

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Chapter 16

      Chapter 17

      Chapter 18

      Chapter 19

      Chapter 20

      Chapter 21

      Chapter 22

      Chapter 23

      Chapter 24

      Epilogue

      Other titles by Lani Lynn Vale:

      The Freebirds

      Boomtown

      Highway Don’t Care

      Another One Bites the Dust

      Last Day of My Life

      Texas Tornado

      I Don’t Dance

      The Heroes of The Dixie Wardens MC

      Lights To My Siren

      Halligan To My Axe

      Kevlar To My Vest

      Keys To My Cuffs

      Life To My Flight

      Charge To My Line

      Counter To My Intelligence

      Right To My Wrong

      Code 11- KPD SWAT

      Center Mass

      Double Tap

      Bang Switch

      Execution Style

      Charlie Foxtrot

      Kill Shot

      Coup De Grace

      The Uncertain Saints

      Whiskey Neat

      Jack & Coke

      Vodka On The Rocks

      Bad Apple

      Dirty Mother

      Rusty Nail

      The Kilgore Fire Series

      Shock Advised

      Flash Point

      Oxygen Deprived

      Controlled Burn

      Put Out

      I Like Big Dragons Series

      I Like Big Dragons and I Cannot Lie

      Dragons Need Love, Too

      Oh, My Dragon

      The Dixie Warden Rejects

      Beard Mode

      Fear the Beard

      Son of a Beard

      I’m Only Here for the Beard

      The Beard Made Me Do It

      Beard Up

      For the Love of Beard

      Law & Beard

      There’s No Crying in Baseball

      Pitch Please

      Quit Your Pitchin’

      Listen, Pitch

      The Hail Raisers

      Hail No

      Go to Hail

      Burn in Hail

      What the Hail

      The Hail You Say

      Hail Mary

      The Simple Man Series

      Kinda Don’t Care

      Maybe Don’t Wanna

      Get You Some

      Ain’t Doin’ It

      Too Bad So Sad

      Bear Bottom Guardians MC

      Mess Me Up

      Talkin’ Trash

      How About No

      My Bad

      One Chance, Fancy

      It Happens

      Castiel and Turner

      Snitches Get Stitches

      F-Bomb

      KPD Motorcycle Patrol

      Hide Your Crazy

      It Wasn’t Me

      I’d Rather Not

      Make Me

      Blurb

      I’m kind of a lady, but definitely more of a weirdo.

      Hearing the woman at the table behind him say that to her friend should’ve turned Logan Gibbs off.

      It didn’t. In all honesty, it only made him listen harder.

      He’s had enough weird in his life to last a lifetime. The last thing his complicated life needs is a woman in it who has no clue what color you get when you mix yellow and blue together.

      Yet, her obvious blonde moments aren’t enough to deter him. Nor is her lack of finger-painting skills.

      I’m a cop, not a miracle worker.

      Hearing the man in the group behind her say that should’ve had Katy Roberts running away as fast as her feet would carry her. Katy’s father’s a cop, and it’s hard enough to live her life with Daddy trying to dictate her every move. She needs another cop in her life like she needs yet another thing to go wrong.

      To add onto that, she can’t find a job, has no love life to speak of, and has to be the oldest known virgin in Kilgore, Texas.

      Yet, when she sees his painting—a painting that resembles a piece of the male anatomy more than the lighthouse they were supposed to be painting—she knows that she has to give him a chance.

      The very last thing the two of them expect is for her father and his boss to force them to marry after an eensy-weensy accident. An accident that, surprisingly, both of them want.

      Prologue

      I’m not sure where you learned to whisper, but my guess is in a helicopter surrounded by chainsaws.

      -Logan’s secret thoughts

      Logan

      “This is a new venture for us,” the captain said. “It’s never been done before, and if I was being honest, I’m not sure it’s going to last. But there you go. Starting Monday, each of you will be on a motorcycle provided by the Kilgore Police Department while on patrol.”

      My brows, along with those of the four other men surrounding me, went up.

      “You won’t all be on shift at the same time, and this won’t be a nighttime thing. You will only be on duty during the daylight hours due to the high motorcycle fatality rate after six in the evening.”

      My jaw clenched.

      That was truer than true.

      “Pace, Justice, Lock.” The captain held out my paper. “Logan.”

      “Did you happen to notice how all of our names are right there in the same part of the alphabet?” I asked. “No, just me?”

      Every set of eyes belonging to the people that were sitting in the stupid little desks at my sides and behind me looked at me with various stages of annoyance.

      “What?” I asked, genuinely curious. “I really feel left out of the cool club sometimes. Y’all always share these looks…”

      Captain stood and walked to a box. “We got y
    ’all’s sizes from the uniform shop.” He grunted as he opened it with a pocket knife that he’d produced out of thin air. “If they don’t fit, take it back and they’ll have to order you a new pair. But get it done by Monday so they will arrive in time.”

      And that’s when he started passing out little slips of fabric that didn’t look fit to be put on my ten-year-old niece.

      “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I said as I held up the uniform. “This isn’t fuckin’ Chips, Captain,” I growled. “This is real life!”

      Captain Morgan (yes, that really was his name) gave me a droll look.

      “This is the exact uniform that LAPD uses, as well as the California Highway Patrol. They’re proven safer when they’re tight. Nothing to get caught up on while you’re on the motorcycle. Tougher fabric to protect you in case of an accident.”

      “Yeah, and you’ll see every single goddamn cock hair that I have,” I grumbled.

      The men at my back chuckled, but the captain wasn’t amused.

      “Gibbs,” Captain said. Uh-oh, he’d pulled out my last name. Shit was getting real. “You can take it or leave it. Just know that leaving it means that you’ll be leaving the job as well.”

      I sighed. “I’ll take it.”

      If I got to get paid to ride motorcycles all day, then I’d take it all day, every day. Even if I did look like an extra straight out of Chips.

      “What’s with the bright black stripper boots?” Justice asked. “Seriously?”

      Captain Morgan growled.

      “Listen, ladies,” he snapped. “I’m not answering any more questions about the uniform. Wear it. Fucking like it. And stop fucking bitching.”

      “It’s not too bad.”

      The door pounded open again, and a large man by the name of Jonah Crew, aka Tickey, lumbered in.

      He didn’t talk. He didn’t make pleasantries. In fact, he was the biggest dick on the entire force.

      He’d joined the department a few months ago at his brother’s urging, and had quickly taken to the job.

      I didn’t see anything similar when you compared my friend, Lachlan Downy, to Jonah. Both men were large, sure, but they didn’t even act the same. Whereas Downy was a big ball of fun and an expert negotiator, Jonah was the complete opposite.

      He was brash, rude, and I fucking loved him.

      But I also hated him.

      The man had a shit life when he was younger. Sure, I got that. But it didn’t mean that he could make everyone’s life a living hell.

      He actually reminded me of Martin Riggs off of the old movie Lethal Weapon. Full of piss and vinegar, and he pretty much got off on pissing people off just because he could.

      He was a loaded time bomb, just waiting to detonate, and nobody knew when and where he was going to go off.

      Now, Downy’s son, Lock, who was also a member of our new band of merry men, was a lot like his father. Downy Sr. and Downy Jr. were definitely cut from the same cloth. I liked and respected both men equally the same.

      “Nice of you to join us, Crew,” Captain said. “Have a seat. Would you like to comment about the uniform as well?”

      Jonah shook his head once and then stared blankly ahead.

      The captain sighed and continued explaining our duties, finally ending a half an hour later when our shifts would end.

      “You’ll work a rotating shift. Any given shift you’ll be working with three other motorcycle cops, and they’ll be different each shift, so don’t bother making plans from one week to the next. We’ll put you where we need you, but mostly you’ll be cruising through our busiest roads to help enforce traffic laws, and also give the other boys more time to respond to other calls.” He paused. “Any questions?”

      Nobody said a word.

      “All right then. Just remember…this is your last chance. No more fuck-ups, y’all.” He stood up. “New schedules will be posted tomorrow. You’ll start this next week after the rest of the equipment arrives. Okay?”

      Nobody said anything again.

      “Good.” He got up and left the room.

      Jonah went out right on his heels, leaving the rest of us staring at our shiny motorcycle boots and tight ass pants.

      “This is a fuckin’ nightmare.”

      That came from Justice as he held up the pants.

      “Amen to that,” I grunted and stood. “We free to leave now?”

      They all shrugged.

      “Good enough answer for me,” I grumbled, standing up.

      Kilgore Police Department was a fairly good size, but at this time in the evening, it was dead quiet due to shift change. The only person that was making any noise in the entire place was the 911 operator that worked in her own little room off to the side of the bullpen.

      Normally there were three of them, but likely since it was shift change, the other two had taken their lunches.

      “All right, Logan,” I heard called from behind me. “You try that on for us, model it, and we’ll tell you what we think.”

      I gave Pace a look.

      “Fuck you.”

      But before we could all make the break for it that we should’ve done the moment that Captain Morgan left the room, he was back just as fast. “Oh, don’t forget. We have a team building exercise at the goddamn painting place. If I have to be there, you have to be there. And make sure someone finds fucking Jonah and tells him to be there or else. Eight o’clock, sharp. It’s also BYOB—bring your own goddamn beer. And make double damn sure that you bring your own because you’re not drinking mine.”

      Pace and I shared a look. “Not it.”

      The fact that we both said it at the same time was highly amusing.

      “I’m not telling him,” Pace grumbled. “He’s going to shit himself at hearing we have to go to a fucking painting party.”

      “Just make his nephew do it,” I suggested, looking over at the fresh-faced Baby Downy who’d been out of the police academy for all of six weeks.

      He was the only one of us who’d gotten to this particular unit out of want rather than necessity.

      The rest of us, Jonah, Pace, Justice, and I had all gotten here because we’d gotten into a bit of a tight spot with something or another over the last couple of months. And since we had a new therapist who felt that maybe a change of pace/scenery would benefit us, we’d all been transferred to a unit that was pretty much a precursor to being fired.

      Which none of us wanted, but we didn’t really have much of a choice seeing as the goddamn therapist was the daughter of the mayor, and what that woman wanted, that woman got. Regardless of the fact that none of us had done a goddamn thing wrong other than find ourselves in that woman’s office.

      “Downy looks like he would do it,” Pace agreed. “Let’s go talk to him.”

      ***

      “Ummm,” Pace said as he stood next to me, bouncing on the prosthetic blades that acted as stand-ins for his actual feet. “Nobody is here yet.”

      I nodded my head at the lot. “I’m fairly sure that Justice has been here for about twenty minutes, but he’s parked over there in the shadows because he’s too afraid he’ll see his mom who is painting right now with a couple of her friends.”

      Pace squinted and tried to see into the shadows but shook his head. “I can’t see him. But that’s funny.”

      “It is,” I agreed. “She’s hot as hell for an older woman, right?”

      Pace looked at the woman that was laughing her ass off with a glass of wine in her hand, looking like she wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. “He’ll kill you if he hears you say that about his mom. And, just sayin’, old man, but you’re not too far from her age.”

      I scoffed. “I’m thirty-eight. Justice said his mom was in her fifties. That’s twelve whole years.”

      Pace snorted. “Thirty-eight is old. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

      I rolled my eyes. “Thirty-three is fairly old, too.”

      “No, it isn’t,” he countered. “Thirty-five is old. I’m two years away from that.”

     
    ; Before we could continue our argument, a motorcycle pulled up containing Lock Downy.

      “Now we’re only missing Jonah.” I laughed.

      We both looked at Lock, who was removing his helmet.

      “Did you tell your uncle to come?” I questioned him.

      Lock nodded his head. “Yep. He said he’d be here.”

      And he was.

      Five minutes later, he rolled up on his motorcycle that looked like it was on its last leg.

      None of us said a word.

      “Everybody here?” Captain Morgan called from behind us.

      I looked over my shoulder at him, just now realizing that Pace and I hadn’t been alone.

      Where the fuck had he come from?

      “Yeah,” I confirmed.

      “Good,” he said, then cupped his hands over his mouth. “Justice, get your ass over here!”

      “Captain Morgan,” a feminine, quiet hypnotic voice said from beside us. “Is that really necessary? Screaming the word ass across the parking lot? That’s not really good publicity seeing as you’re all representing the Kilgore Police Department.”

      Captain Morgan snorted. “Yeah, sure.”

      Ruby Rose, the department’s therapist that I wasn’t aware would be here tonight, just shook her head and in turn, stared us all down.

      “Gentlemen,” she said sweetly.

      Ruby Rose, despite her hooker name, really was a sweet woman.

      She had long, black curly hair, a cute upturned nose that made her look adorable, and boobs for days.

      She also had a major crush on the captain, as did the captain on her.

      Though, neither one of them were willing to admit that.

      Instead, they just offered each other snide comments here and there as they saw each other at work and outside of work, and it was a version of verbal foreplay that I knew one day would require them to act on their attraction or they’d internally combust.

      Justice arrived with a scowl on his face.

      “My mother is still in there,” he grumbled.

      Justice was dressed in head to toe black, the only pop of color a red bandana holding his hair back.

      “Your mother is going to love seeing you,” Ruby informed Justice.

     

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