Green Girl has a little secret. She likes rough and ragged men. In theory, of course, because it's tough to inhale the fumes of sweat and motor oil and cigarettes and whiskey for too long. But in fantasy?
Bad biker boys have got it going on.
She thinks it's that devil-be-damned glint of ferocity in their gaze. And black leather. And the heady whiff of danger. 
When she and Mr. D hunker down on Tuesday nights to watch Sons of Anarchy, one certain biker has captured her imagination.
Bad-ass Tig, with the muttonchops.
And Marlboro Reds, official cigarette of hard-livin' men everywhere. 
He's loyal, big-hearted, fearless, clever and those clear blue eyes. These pictures don't do him justice, reader. You have to see him in action to understand Green Girl's adoration. And he's got one of those whiskey-graveled voices that make her knees all wobbly.
Plus? He knows a guy who can make a dead body disappear. What's not to love about a man with strange contacts on his cell phone?
He's a man's man. All manly.
He's gone to prison, shrugged off gunshot wounds, and racked up a formidable stack of felonies, what with the gun-running, the murders, the drugs and the smuggling. 
But that rakish grin makes it all forgivable. Tig, motorcycles and muttonchops and always misbehaving.
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