Urn for me, p.1
Urn For Me, page 1
Urn For Me
Royal Bastards MC
Book 9
Wall Street Journal & USA Today Bestselling Author
Winter Travers
Copyright © 2024 Winter Travers
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduction, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) utilization of this work without written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these
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Also by Winter Travers
Banachi Family
His Reward
His Claim
His Sacrifice
His Forever
Devil's Knights
Loving Lo
Finding Cyn
Gravel's Road
Battling Troy
Gambler's Longshot
Keeping Meg
Fighting Demon
Unraveling Fayth
Forever Lo
Devil's Knights MC Books 1-4
Devil's Knights MC Books 5-8
Devil's Knights 2nd Generation
Passing the Torch
Riding the Line
Royal Mess
Changing Lanes
Bucking Tradition
Reining It In
Fractured Brotherhood
Ride the Wind
Chase the Sunset
Freedom Ride
Fallen Lords M.C.
Nickel
Pipe
Maniac
Wrecker
Boink
Clash
Freak
Slayer
Brinks
Fallen Lords Christmas
A Moo Christmas
He Says
Wilder Presley Says He Loves Me
Charlie Beck Says I'm His
Blake Marshall Says He Needs Me
Iron Fiends MC
My Biker
My Savior
My Romeo
My Hero
My Prince
My Dream
My Casanova
My Knight
Kings of Vengeance
Drop a Gear and Disappear
Lean Into It
Knees in the Breeze
Midnight Wreckage
Thrill Seeker
Livin' on the Edge
Blacktop Freedom
Ride or Die
Lost Mavericks MC
Protected
Nitro Crew
Burndown
Holeshot
Redlight
Shutdown
Powerhouse M.A.
Dropkick My Heart
Love on the Mat
Black Belt in Love
Black Belt Knockout
Royal Bastards MC
Six-Gun
Monk
Rebel
Barracuda
Jet
Jinx
Mace
Urn For Me
Playboy
Skid Row Kings
Downshift
PowerShift
BangShift
Skid Row Kings Complete Series
Standalone
Nitro Crew Complete Series
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Also By Winter Travers
Also by Winter Travers
Table of Contents
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
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Coming Soon | His Sacrifice
My Prince
About the Author
Meg
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Also By Winter Travers
Also by Winter Travers
Devil’s Knights Series
Loving Lo
Finding Cyn
Gravel’s Road
Battling Troy
Gambler’s Longshot
Keeping Meg
Fighting Demon
Unraveling Fayth
Forever Lo
Devil’s Knights 2nd Gen
Passing the Torch
Riding the Line
Royal Mess
Changing Lanes
Bucking Tradition
Reining It In
Fractured Brotherhood
Ride the Wind
Chase the Sunset
Freedom Ride
Skid Row Kings Series
DownShift
PowerShift
BangShift
Fallen Lords MC Series
Nickel
Pipe
Maniac
Wrecker
Boink
Clash
Freak
Slayer
Brinks
Fallen Lords Christmas
A Moo Christmas
Kings of Vengeance MC
Drop a Gear and Disappear
Lean Into It
Knees in the Breeze
Midnight Wreckage
Thrill Seeker
Livin’ on the Edge
Blacktop Freedom
Ride or Die
Powerhouse MA Series
Dropkick My Heart
Love on the Mat
Black Belt in Love
Black Belt Knockout
Nitro Crew Series
Burndown
Holeshot
Redlight
Shutdown
Royal Bastards MC: Sacramento, CA
Playboy
Six-Gun
Monk
Rebel
Barracuda
Jet
Jinx
Mace
Urn For Me
VII Knights MC: Golden, CO Chapter
Iced
Iron Fiends MC
My Biker
My Savior
My Romeo
My Hero
Sweet Love Novellas
Sweet Burn
Five Alarm Donuts
Stand Alone Novellas
Kissing the Bad Boy
Trapped with the Bad Boy
Daddin’ Ain’t Easy
Silas: A Scrooged Christmas
Wanting More
Mama Didn’t Raise No Fool
Tangle My Tinsel
Mr. Motorcycle
Oral Communications
Coasting In
Holly’s Biker
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
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
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Coming Soon
About the Author
Excerpt from Loving Lo
Excerpt from My Biker
Chapter One
Dorothy
“I can’t believe I just did that.”
“Believe it, Imogen,” I said, trying to stifle my laughter. “Mr. Brooks was always a stickler for detail. He wanted his final send-off to be just right.”
Imogen sighed, her expression a mixture of shock and pride. She closed the doors to the viewing room and shook her head. “I just can’t believe he wanted to be staged at his desk, surrounded by paperwork and a cup of coffee.” She wrinkled her nose.
I nodded, recalling the meticulous instructions Mr. B
“Promise me your final wishes have nothing to do with me propping you up anywhere. Just lay down.” Imogen leaned against the closed door and wiped her brow. “I’m going to need a plate of nachos and a virgin margarita, stat.”
“Cremate me, honey. That’s all I want.” Being a mortician, I thought about my own death and funeral more than the average person. Like Mr. Brooks, I knew how I wanted my funeral to be, though I will say mine was very much the norm.
The front door to the funeral home opened, and Imogen’s handsome baby daddy walked in. He pushed his sunglasses on top of his head, and his eyes homed in on Imogen. “What’s wrong?”
I hooked my arm through Imogen’s and smiled wide. “Imogen just fulfilled Mr. Brooks’ final wish of being propped up at his desk.”
Mace curled his lip. “I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to you two talking about death and dead bodies so casually.”
Imogen pushed her hair out of her face and shrugged. “That’s life. None of us are going to make it out alive.”
Mace scoffed. “Yeah, well, you might be right, but I’d like at least sixty years with you before that happens.”
Imogen rested her hand on her growing baby bump. “Sixty years with our little girl sounds good to me, too.”
“Ugh, you two get more and more sappy every day,” I drawled.
Imogen pushed off the door and basically floated over to Mace.
I had never seen two people more in love than they were.
Sickening, but I was glad Imogen was happy.
“Are you here to take us out for margaritas and nachos?” I asked.
Mace nodded and kissed Imogen’s lips. “Whatever Imogen wants. She’s the one eating for two right now.”
Imogen smiled. “God, yes. You have no idea the things I had to do to get Mr. Brooks into that chair.”
“Dorothy didn’t help you?”
I held up my hands defensively. “Mr. Brooks left strict instructions that Imogen was the only one who was supposed to prepare him for the wake. I was on the other side of the door offering words of encouragement.”
Also, being a mortician, you never messed with the dead. If Mr. Brooks wanted Imogen to prepare him for the viewing, then that was exactly what we were going to do. We weren’t about to bring some bad or weird juju on us.
“You guys don’t find that a little bit weird?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Well, yeah, but I’m on the good side of that weirdness, so I didn’t have to do anything, so we must follow his wishes.”
Imogen rolled her eyes. “I’ll remember that when you need help with the next unruly family and friends, okay?”
I waved my hand at her. “Girl, you know I can handle whatever gets thrown at me. I made it through that clown funeral two years ago, so now I can handle anything.”
“Clown funeral?” Mace asked. “Do I even want to know?”
Imogen patted his chest and shook her head. “You might not want to know anything more about that.”
I hitched my thumb to my office. “I’ve got a few red noses in my desk if you want one. I got rid of the big yellow shoes last year during yard sale days.”
“You guys had to dress up as clowns?” Mace asked.
“Well, we didn’t have to, but I thought it would be respectful if Imogen and I did. You should have seen–”
“Stop,” Imogen shouted. “We both agreed to never talk about the clown funeral ever again, didn’t we?”
I cocked my head. “I mean, you said we couldn’t talk about it. I don’t think I ever really agreed.”
“Keep talking, Dorothy, and you’re going to have to find your own margaritas and nachos,” Imogen threatened.
I pouted out my bottom lip. “You know I didn’t drive today, and I’m not going to walk all the way to Tito’s.”
Imogen zipped her fingers across her lips. “Then zip it. No one wants to hear about the clowns.”
Mace raised his hand. “I kind of want to hear about the clowns.”
Imogen sliced a glare at him.
He held up his hands. “You know, on second thought, I don’t want to hear about the clowns. I would like to hear about anything but clowns.”
“Wise man,” I mumbled. “Let me just grab my purse, and we can head out.”
“Grab mine, too,” Imogen called.
I waved my hand over my head and slipped into the office. The light on the ancient answering machine was blinking, but I didn’t have the mental capacity to check it. “Remind me to check the answering machine when we get back,” I called to Imogen.
“I think that is me from earlier. I was in the middle of a breakdown downstairs and had a moment of weakness. I called you for help, but you didn’t answer.”
I grabbed our purses and hitched mine over my shoulder. “I didn’t even hear the phone ring.” I closed the office door behind me and followed Imogen and Mace out the front door.
“Don’t worry about it,” Imogen laughed. “I think my pregnancy hormones were hitting me hard. I couldn’t get Mr. Brooks to bend the way I wanted him to. I finally got it when I got the crowbar out–”
“Stop,” Mace called. He opened the passenger door to Imogen’s car. “There will be no more talk of anything to do with embalming for the rest of the night. Swear to god, you two are some of the craziest chicks I know.”
Imogen scoffed and patted Mace’s chest. “I think you’ve forgotten about Mitzy, Raelynn, and the rest of the ol’ ladies.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Mace mumbled. “Get your butt in the car, woman.”
I slipped into the backseat and couldn’t help but smile as I fastened my seat belt. Sure, Imogen and I were a little off the walls, but so were all the other girls who had hooked up with the rest of the RBMC.
Part of me wished there was one last biker left for me, but that wasn’t going to happen unless one of the girls decided they wanted to have a sister wife. As much as I thought all of the guys were good-looking, I wasn’t interested in any of them.
Imogen flipped her visor down and looked at me in the mirror. “Do I even want to know what you are thinking about?”
I shook my head and leaned back in my seat. “Probably not. Just take me to Tito’s and put a margarita in my hand, and I’ll be good.”
Chapter Two
Dorothy
The evening air was crisp as I made my way back from Tito’s with Mace and Imogen. Imogen, visibly exhausted from her day of work and carrying my little niece or nephew, leaned on Mace as he guided her upstairs to her apartment.
“Just take the car home, Dorothy,” Mace’s voice echoed down to me from the staircase.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” Imogen called out wearily. “Bright and early to say goodbye to Mr. Brooks.”
“I’ll be here. I’m just going to grab my notebook from the office,” I replied, making my way towards the office space.
Once inside, I retrieved my pretty notebook from the desk and headed out, ensuring all the lights were off in the funeral home. After closing and locking the front door behind me, I turned and ran smack dab into a clothed brick wall.
“Oh, my lanta!” I exclaimed, clutching my chest in surprise as I stumbled backward. The brick wall was actually a well-dressed, handsome man.
The man caught me around the waist, keeping me on my feet. “Whoa, there,” he chuckled. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Uh, well, it’s half-past nine, and we’re in front of a funeral home. Being scared kind of happens in these instances,” I quipped, attempting to step back from him.
“These kinds of meetings happen often?” he asked.
The stranger reluctantly released his hold on me, and I took the opportunity to size him up. He had dark hair, a handsome face, and a fit physique, all accentuated by his attire—a white t-shirt paired with jeans and a black leather jacket.
The leather jacket caught my attention. “Are you one of Mace’s friends?” I inquired, hoping perhaps he was someone new from the Royal Bastards Motorcycle Club. A little excitement would be just about right. I nodded to the motorcycle parked by the front door.
“Mace?” the man repeated, glancing towards the motorcycle parked nearby. “I’m going to need more of an explanation than that.”
Realizing I was conversing with a stranger in the dark, a sense of caution washed over me. I needed to find out who he was or make a run for it. Although he didn’t seem immediately threatening, I knew better than to let my guard down.
Taking another step back, I maintained a safe distance. “Uh, who are you? If you’re here for Mr. Brooks’ funeral, it’s not until tomorrow.” Why else would a stranger be at a funeral home other than to go to a funeral, right?
