Bottom Line_Nomad Bikers Page 14
My parents taught me many things. The first and foremost is to be my own man. If that means carving a new path for the Ravage MC, I’m up to the task.
***
Pulling up to the clubhouse, we park in the lot, all next to each other, turning off the engines and taking off our helmets.
This building is home.
My memory is damn good, which is both a blessing and a curse. My father doesn’t know, but I remember living with my biological mother and seeing stuff as a young child that was flat-out wrong. It’s not that he doesn’t care to know; we just don’t talk about it.
Besides, remembering those times only pisses me off. Seeing men come in and out of the small apartment, going into that woman’s room then coming out a while later. She was always doped up on something. Back then, I thought she just wasn’t feeling well.
When she started hitting me, that was when I knew what fear was. A woman is supposed to love their kid, at least somewhat. Mine didn’t. Not at all.
The moment my father told that woman—my incubator, as we call her now—I was staying with him, that’s what I consider my rebirth. It was a new start. Not only that, but I had a new mother, as well. One who loved me, took care of me, and put all of my needs above anyone else’s, not giving two shits what anyone thought about it.
When I started living, this ugly-as-fuck, cement-blocked building became home. Don’t get me wrong, we had a house, as well, but the clubhouse is where it all started for me.
“How’d it go?” Pops, the president of Ravage MC and my grandfather, asks upon us entering the building as I get chin lifts from the guys.
Pops has been the president since I was a kid, so at least twenty-one, almost twenty-two years. He’s done a great job building the Ravage Motorcycle Club into very profitable entities. Not only that, after the bullshit that went down when I was a kid, Pops has kept a tight leash on any and all of our friends and enemies. One doesn’t do what we do and not have a huge basket of both, but Pops has kept it all in line.
“Ryker got a little too happy, and the guy won’t be having kids, probably ever, but the message was sent. If he doesn’t have it by the weekend, then we’ll take care of it.”
Pops chuckles.
“Hey, the fucker was tryin’ to stand up. If he would’ve stayed down, his nuts wouldn’t have cracked.”
Laughter is heard throughout the clubhouse.
Pops slaps his hand on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze. The look he is giving me is different, but he says nothing as he walks to one of the tables and has a seat.
I’ve noticed things about him these last few months. The looks that come across his face when he thinks no one is looking, as if he’s tired and the weight of the world rests on his shoulders.
There’s no doubt in my mind that it’s true. Running an entire MC is a shit-ton of work. Even doing it for years and having it down pat, there comes a time when it could be too much. I’ve kept my mouth shut about it, though, not wanting to overstep my boundaries. When Pops is ready to tell us what’s going on, he will.
Heading toward the bar, I grasp the cold beer sitting on it then join the guys at the table. Blood means nothing to any of us. We are a family of our own choosing. Each one of us couldn’t be more different if we tried. It’s as if we were put together in this clubhouse for a reason.
Take Becs. He’s the vice president of the club and has recently told us that he’d like to step down and let some of the younger guys take his role. That decision is huge and one of the highest topics at our next church. Becs is quiet. Silent but deadly. He’s never up in your face, but one wrong move, and he will tear you down.
Then there’s Rhys. He’s silent, but his face, body—hell, even the air around him—screams “breath my air, and I’ll end you.”
My dad, Cruz, he’s middle road between the two. He has no problem getting in someone’s face, yet he’ll only do it when necessary. His face isn’t scary like Rhys’s, but he has his own badass vibe he puts off.
Me, I’m more of a thinker, a planner if you will. I like to look at all the possibilities and facts before coming up with a strategy.
Somehow, all our crazy asses fit together, and we are bound by family.
Challenged (Vipers Creed MC#1)
©Ryan Michele 2016
Prologue
M y head filled with a cloudy, dense fog that I couldn’t shake. Even with my eyes open, a filmy haze covered them, making everything blurry. Voices were muffled, as if I were under water, sinking. I thought I recognized one, but I couldn’t tell for sure.
Too hard to think.
I attempted to pull my arms up, but they were immediately halted by something. The hard, cold, heavy attachments clinked like metal. Even straining to move them, my muscles were so weak, so lethargic I couldn’t. I tried my legs, and the same thing happened.
A hard surface pressed against my back as the cool air of the room cascaded over my skin, my nipples, my stomach… Oh God, was I naked?
I opened my mouth, wanting to scream as deep panic set in. Unfortunately, nothing came out except air. Even that took more effort than I had in me.
Placing the pieces of the puzzle together, I couldn’t make heads or tails out of anything.
Heat at my side had me turning in that direction, only to see a fuzzy, black figure. I squinted then blinked, trying to get the focus to come back, but nothing. Not a damn thing.
“Hello, darlin’. Welcome to hell.”
Chapter One
Trix
A lump gathered in my throat settling like a rock, hard and brutal, sucking the wind out of me. My hand slightly twitched as I dialed the number I never in a million years thought I would call. I switched the phone to my other hand in an effort to shake out the trembling, because nervousness wasn’t an option. Trix Lamasters would not turn into some twit who couldn’t think straight over one phone call. Being a shrewd businesswoman, I’d learned from the best not to let shit get to me, how to compartmentalize things and deal.
I swallowed hard, moving the lump from my throat to settle into my gut like a boulder. As I focused, my breathing evened out. The thick steel in my spine could handle anything life threw at me, including this call. Including the man who would be on the other end of the line.
The green button stared back at me, my finger hovering over it. Then I pressed it and pulled the phone to my ear just as it started ringing.
One ring … two … three …
“What?” was barked through the phone line with a male’s voice tainted by harsh impatience.
“Can I talk to Cade? Shit.” I stopped myself. He wasn’t Cade anymore. I needed to remember that a lot had changed. “I mean, Spook. Is Spook around?”
Silence.
“Hello?” I pulled the phone away from my ear, looking at the bright screen, making sure the call hadn’t dropped. Nope, the little numbers in the corner were still counting away. I pressed it back to my ear, waiting a few beats.
“Who wants to fucking know?” His tone turned gruffer, almost as if he were a protective watch dog of Cade’s, and nothing or no one got past him.
Watch dog or not, I wasn’t about to get eaten.
“This is Trix Lamasters. I need to speak to him.”
More silence, not even a breath or noise in the background.
“Hello?”
His voice came over the line right as I intended to speak again. “Stop fucking saying hello. I’m here.”
Hell, maybe someone pissed in his Wheaties this morning, his attitude having nothing to do with me. Or maybe it was just him.
I slapped my hand to my forehead as the word dumbass rang in my mind.
“Sorry, I thought the call dropped.” Now I apologized to the rude man? Get a grip, Trix.
“What do you need with Spook?” The guard dog didn’t give me an inch. Nevertheless, he didn’t need to know my business.
I needed a diversion.
“Can you just get a message to him to call me?”
“Fuck,” I muttered then heard him chuckle. The damn man needed a bone before he played. Asshole. “An employee of mine has been seen at your clubhouse. I need to talk to her.”
“Call her,” he quipped.
“She doesn’t have a phone,” I retorted, feeling the fire burn in my veins.
“Not my problem,” the man sneered. From his attitude, I knew he would have no problem hanging up on me right now, never telling Cade I needed to talk to him. Good thing I dealt with assholes on a regular basis.
“Look, the bitch owes me money.” Anger raced through my body. I let it be heard through each clipped word.
He let out a deep laugh that was almost intriguing if he weren’t a jerk. “You may as well kiss that cash good-bye.”
My pride had other ideas.
“Fuck no. I want what’s owed to me.” I sighed, needing a different tactic. “Look, can you just give Spook my name?” He would either call or he wouldn’t, but maybe that would get the dog to want to nose around. Maybe curiosity would get him to spread my name at least.
“This is gonna be fun. Hang on.” The man must have covered the mouthpiece with his hand, because everything he said was muffled except for him calling Spook’s name. That, I could hear clearly. My adrenaline spiked at the thought of Cade coming on the line.
“Yeah?” a voice I recognized from my dreams said into the phone. The deep, raspy tenor had grown over time and slithered down my spine all the way to my knees, giving them a slight tremble. It took only one word to make my stomach flip.
Fuck, I knew this was a bad idea, but I wasn’t that girl anymore. He would not have power over me. I wouldn’t allow it.
I paced my small living room, needing the movement to get my knees back in line.
“Cade? It’s Trix Lamasters.”
“First, the name’s Spook. Second, who?”
That one kind of stung. Alright, more than stung. It tore another hole in my already battered heart was more like it. The asshole didn’t even remember me, but what did I expect, being one in a sea of many? There was absolutely no reason I would have stood out to him.
“We went to school together,” I tried.
Silence.
I rolled my eyes to the ceiling, hoping divine intervention would give me the gift of patience or a gun. Neither came.
“Whatever. I get you don’t remember me, but you have one of my employees there. I need to talk to her. She owes me money, and I need it back.”
“Trixie Lamasters.” I could hear the devilish grin as his words snaked over the phone. Not going to lie, my pussy quivered.
No one called me Trixie anymore, because once upon a time, he did and I had loved it. After he abruptly left my life, taking the one thing I could never get back, I refused to let anyone call me by that name. Never again would I allow the hollow feeling that name represented to seep through me. Now, hearing him after fifteen years, the vault of memories opened wide, something I did not want to happen. I didn’t want to feel, yet each recollection of the past bombarded my mind.
“Long time.”
I paused mid-step as a flash of younger Cade hit me. Shaking my head clear, I continued to pace through my living room.
“Yeah, very long. Anyway, you have a woman there by the name of Nanette King. Can you hand her over to me?”
I wouldn’t let the smoothness of his voice draw me in like it had all those years ago, reducing me to a pile of teenaged mush. Strictly business , I told myself, because business I could handle.
“How do you know she’s here?”
“I had her followed, and it led to you.”
I guessed he didn’t like the fact that I had found her that way, judging from the muttered curses that followed. Each word made me smile. I had a payroll of people who worked for me now, and some little twit-fart would not run off with my money. That wasn’t how I operated my business.
Nanette had fallen off the radar. Cade’s club happened to be the last place she was seen; therefore, I had to call him. I may as well have strapped zip-ties around my wrists, locking them in place.
“First, if she’s at the club, there’s a reason. Second, bitches here don’t go by their real names, so I don’t know if she’s around, because I don’t know a Nanette. Third, you come to the clubhouse, and we’ll talk.”
Business was business, but my heart spiked at the thought of seeing him again.
Cade’s club, Vipers Creed MC, had been in Dyersburg for years. Even before I came into this world, their presence had been well known. This town had tales, but these days, the Vipers were mostly known for Creed’s Automotive where they made custom bikes and cars in their own little world located on the outskirts of town.
I’d hoped to avoid a meeting since I couldn’t see any point to it. I wasn’t in the mood for a high school reunion. The past needed to stay there, locked up tight.
“I’ll describe her to you. Tell me if she’s there, and I’ll send someone over to get her,” I declared, trying to veer him from this path.
Negotiations were something I excelled at. There had to be an arrangement that suited us both, one we could manage over the phone. It would be the best course of action. The less contact I had with him, the better. I could have Ike, one of the bouncers at Sirens, pick her up. Win-win all around.
He chuckled, and my body went on alert because of the slyness in it.
“Babe, you don’t get how this works. You want something from me that I have, bring your ass here, and we’ll discuss it. Tomorrow night, seven.” Silence.
This time when I looked at the screen, the number fifty-seven blinked rapidly. He’d hung up on me.
“That arrogant piece of shit!” I growled, tossing my phone to the couch where it bounced on the cushion.
I should have known he’d still be a dick. Some things never changed. Guess I was going to meet up with Cade after all.
I completely ignored the slight tremor that thought caused.
The story continues in Challenged (Vipers Creed MC#1)
About the Author
Ryan Michele found her passion in bringing fictional characters to life. She loves being in an imaginative world where anything is possible, and she has a knack for special twists readers don’t see coming.
She writes MC, Contemporary, Erotic, Paranormal, New Adult, Inspirational, and other romance-based genres. Whether it’s bikers, wolf-shifters, mafia, etc., Ryan spends her time making sure her heroes are strong and her heroines match them at every turn.
When she isn’t writing, Ryan is a mom and wife living in rural Illinois and reading by her pond in the warm sun.
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Table of Contents
Section One – Bonus Time refresher
Chapter One: Crossover
Chapter Two: In the Red
Chapter Three: Below the Line
Chapter Four: Close the Tab
Chapter Five: Day of Reckoning
Chapter Six: Paid in Full
Section Two – The Past … sets into motion our future
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Section Three – The Present … isn’t easy and it’s as ugly as the past
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Section Four – Bottom Line …
the devil’s debts are paid up where do we go from here
Chapter Twenty-One: Collector and Sonnie
Chapter Twenty-Two: X and Hadley
Chapter Twenty-Three: Judge and Tamalyn
Chapter Twenty-Four: Rowdy and Michele
Chapter Twenty-Five: Deacon and Tempest
Chapter Twenty-Six: Trapper, Avery, and Meaghan
About the Author
Excerpt from Panty Snatcher by Chelsea Camaron
Excerpt from Bound by Family by Ryan Michele
Excerpt from Challenged by Ryan Michele