by Sam Crescent
Venom’s Revenge
Ruthless Rejects MC, 1
Sam Crescent
Jenika Snow
Contents
Venom’s Revenge
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
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
Excerpt: The Caveman’s Possession
Chapter 1
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Also by Crescent Snow
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VENOM’S REVENGE (Ruthless Rejects MC, 1)
By Sam Crescent and Jenika Snow
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www.SamCrescent.com
[email protected]
www.JenikaSnow.com
[email protected]
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Copyright © November 2018 by Sam Crescent and Jenika Snow
First E-book Publication: November 2018
Editor: Kasi Alexander
Proofreader: Read by Rose
Cover Created by: Designs by Dana
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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: The unauthorized reproduction, transmission, or distribution of any part of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
This literary work is fiction. Any name, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments is solely coincidental.
Please respect the author and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials that would violate the author’s rights.
Rebekah
I was called trash by those who knew me, the product of a drunken night, an accidental daughter by the two I called Mom and Dad. I might never leave the trailer I called home, never have a life outside of the aged walls in my room, or the stained mattress I slept on.
But as much as the world tried to drag me down, I knew one thing. I had dreams, hopes, and ambition. One day I’d be free of the darkness that clung to me like a second skin.
And then I decided to say screw it all and leave the decay behind.
But before I could escape, I was taken, thrown in the back of a van, and told hell was waiting for me.
And it looked like the devil himself had plans for me.
* * *
Venom
The Ruthless Rejects MC.
Bastards.
Savages.
Criminals.
We weren’t good men, came from the wrong side of the tracks, but together we became a brotherhood, a family.
We embraced how tarnished and dangerous we were.
Even if that family got blood on their hands, and ran on violence, we were as one and would always have each other’s backs.
I wasn’t one of those misunderstood men who couldn’t process what happened to them growing up. No, I embraced the darkness, let it consume me, change who I was.
Now I was as evil as the devil himself.
And I was going to use that to my advantage to exact my revenge, to make the man who’d hurt the only person I’d ever cared about feel that pain ten times over.
He killed my sister, took the only light to my darkness.
So I was going to take from him what he held dear.
I was coming for his eighteen-year-old daughter. I was going to make her fall into the same darkness that had swallowed me whole from the very beginning. I was going to make her bend to my will, pay for her father’s sins tenfold.
She was supposed to be a means to an end, the revenge I needed to feel whole once more. I was supposed to use her and toss her aside like what had been done to my sister.
But what I realized was that she was more than that.
Rebekah was mine.
Chapter One
Venom
Decay.
A savage upbringing.
Abuse, neglect … unloved.
An innocent life taken from me.
That had been my life in a nutshell. I was paraphrasing, of course, because my life had been hell in every conceivable way, but I’d crawled out of it, made a new life for myself, found a brotherhood.
I hadn’t turned my life around. I was still the same motherfucking bastard I always was. I always would be.
I was the scum of the world, an asshole, a piece of shit human who used violence and aggression to get my point across, to get my way.
Blond hair. Blue eyes. A laugh that had been able to pull me back from the brink of violence.
My sister.
The one who had been taken from me over two decades ago. The only person who had stuck by me when no one else would.
She’d been my light in a dark, ugly world, and had been taken from me brutally.
Drugged.
Violated.
Killed.
Left behind in a dumpster like she’d been nothing more than a piece of trash.
The toxicology report had said the cause of death had been blunt force trauma to the head. They’d caught the fucker, he’d served jail time, professed that it was an accident.
Made no difference. What was done was done. And now was finally the time for Venom to end it.
Since my sister died, I’d done nothing but search for the man who’d killed her.
And I’d finally found him, knew where he lived, how his life was, how he’d claimed he was “reformed,” what his wife’s name was … and the fact he had an eighteen-year-old daughter.
He couldn’t run, couldn’t change his name and start over like nothing had happened.
I’d make sure that piece of shit murderer would know the pain of what it felt like to lose someone.
I had it all planned out, would be leaving the clubhouse soon to exact my revenge, to cause that motherfucker as much pain as I’d felt all these years.
Cold. Dead on the inside. Ruthless.
It’s why I’d started the Ruthless Rejects MC all those years ago. I’d needed an escape, needed a group of men who were of like mind, from the wrong side of the tracks, and whose moral compass was broken. No empathy. No sympathy.
We were a bunch of hardened bastards who righted our wrongs in the only way we knew how.
With violence, revenge, and the need for blood.
“Fuck, Prez, you look like you need another shot.” Rooney, the secretary of the club, passed me the whole fucking bottle of whiskey, not bothering to fill up the shot glass.
I lifted the bottle and tipped it toward him before bringing it to my mouth and taking a long drink. I turned on the barstool and stared at the party unfolding before me.
Our clubhouse had started as a two room structure off of the highway, situated on a piece of land owned by one of the members. Over the years with a lot of hard work and a shitload of illegal activity to bring in the cash to fix it up, we now had a
compound with woods surrounding three sides of the clubhouse, and enough interior space that each member could have their own room to crash, call their own, or bring a sweet butt back to fuck good and hard.
Crank, my VP, leaned against the pool table shooting the shit with our Sergeant at Arms, Vice. There were two sweet butts between them, twins, who went by the names of Sugar and Spice. Fitting, since one was sweet as could be, a good girl next door personality who just happened to like getting fucked in the ass.
Her twin, Spice, on the other hand, had a mouth on her that could cause a man’s balls to shrivel up, not to mention she gave some fucking incredible head in the process of telling you off.
I watched as Anarchy, one of the patches, pulled a sweet butt down on his lap and proceeded to shove his hand down her shirt, cupping a tit. There was no shame in any of our gazes. We watched, like voyeurs getting off, as members shoved their dicks in the ass of a female, licked their cunts, or skull-fucked them, making them take dick and balls all in the same breath.
We were dirty bastards in every sense of the word, but the women that clung to us, hung out at the clubhouse, knew what they were getting into … who they were letting into their bodies.
And so, we used them, fucked them, and moved on to the next pussy.
“You heading out tomorrow morning?” Rooney said and I glanced over at him. “You taking care of it?”
I nodded. “It’s time.” I’d watched her, knew her routine. I knew where she would be tomorrow morning, knew that she planned on getting the fuck out of Dodge. I had to get to her before that. I had to take her and exact my revenge.
The MC wasn’t all about doing charity work, didn’t abide by any rules or laws. The club knew that I was going to take that murderer’s daughter, knew what I planned on doing to her. They accepted it, were there to help me in any way I needed.
We were souls scraped from the bottom of the barrel, ready to kill or be killed in the name of what we believed in.
“Have the guys ready in the morning. It’s time to put this to rest.” I stared Rooney in the eyes. “It’s time to settle the score.”
Rebekah
* * *
I brought my brush down on the canvas, seeing the watercolors melt into the white, absorbing, mixing with the life I created.
Painting was my outlet, something I did when life was too hectic, when my world was spiraling out of control. I didn’t think I was all that good, but what I drew was for me and only me. I tucked my finished projects away like priceless jewels, never to see the light of day.
I glanced at the clock on my bedroom end table and started packing up my painting supplies. The bus would be here in about thirty minutes and I wasn’t even dressed. But I’d woken up at four this morning, the need and inspiration to create riding me hard.
Then again, I’d had a shitty week at school, with being laughed at, picked on, and called trash.
Maybe I was. Maybe I was nothing more than a stupid eighteen-year-old piece of white trash, but I had a roof over my head, got good grades, and most of all had ambitions. I knew that this wouldn’t always be my life. I wanted something more, wanted to go to college, even if I couldn’t afford it, even if I might not go for years.
I had a dream and one day I’d make that a reality.
Or maybe I wouldn’t.
Maybe I’d always be stuck in this crappy town, in this shitty trailer, with parents who were gone most of the time, and who, when drunk, reminded me I was the result of a broken condom.
I got dressed and grabbed my backpack. On the way out, I grabbed one of the too-ripe bananas, a can of pop, and a pack of crackers. It would be my lunch, all I had in the house that was semi-edible.
I shut the trailer door behind me, barely secured to its hinges, the screen that covered the bottom half torn and useless. Then I made my way toward the bus stop, a ten-minute walk from the trailer park, past the old junkyard, and across from what was once a shopping mall but was now housing for homeless people and druggies.
I took a seat on the bench once I got to the stop, the scent of urine and dirt strong, the day heating up to be a hot one if the humidity was anything to go by. The plexiglass that surrounded me was covered in graffiti, scratches and wear, showing a foggy appearance and making everything on the other side seem cloudy.
I looked at my watch. I had twenty minutes before the bus would show. This was the only piece of “technology” I’d had before I’d earned enough flipping burgers during the summer to afford my pay-per-use cell. And that was currently useless because I didn’t have enough to pay for minutes.
My mom had given me the watch years ago, when she didn’t let the booze control her. I smiled again as I stared at the watch. It was old, with the face scratched all to hell, the band once white but now more of a dull gray.
Now it was like she was another person, always drunk, hardly waking up before two in the afternoon, just to start the whole vicious cycle over again.
And then there was my father, hanging out at the town bar, not only to get drunk, but to also pick up random women and forget about one horrible mistake he’d made decades ago.
I rested my head back and closed my eyes, knowing I had a few more months of high school before I could focus on earning money full-time and see about getting the hell out of this shitty town … away from my parents who had been absent more than they’d been there.
The sound of a vehicle approaching then slowing had me opening my eyes and seeing a dark SUV stopping where the bus should be. I sat there for a minute, wondering what the hell was going on.
“Hello?” I stood and adjusted my backpack. “This is a bus stop. You can’t park there.” The windows were rolled up, far too dark from the tinting for me to see who the driver was.
Then the window was rolled down partially. I squinted and took another step closer. “Hello?”
The back-passenger door opened and I could see a massive figure sitting there, staring at me despite the fact I couldn’t see who it was. They didn’t say anything and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, my fight or flight instinct rising up.
This was wrong, all wrong.
Leave.
I turned to do just that, but someone came up behind me, a rag covered my mouth, and a sweetly cloying scent invaded my senses.
My body became weak, my limbs like pudding. The surrender that was promised was too much of a temptation to fight.
But I still did, for as long as I could.
I flailed my arms, kicked behind me, hearing a deep grunt fill my head as I made contact.
Too heavy.
Too suffocating.
I couldn’t do it anymore, couldn’t even hold my head up.
And then darkness claimed me.
Chapter Two
Venom
It was done.
Rebekah was chained in my clubhouse basement and no one could get to her. It was all so fucking easy. Easier than I’d anticipated. I’d expected her father to keep an eye on her. The bastard should have known I’d come, should have remembered my words all those years ago when I saw him in that prison.
“One day I’ll come for what you hold most dear. And when that time comes you’ll know what pain feels like. You’ll know what I fucking feel every time I think about my sister and know I’ll never see her again.” I leaned in close, the plexiglass separating us. I stared into my sister’s murderer’s eyes, knew that I could be patient where my revenge came into play. “One day, you motherfucker.”
I looked in the mirror, saw the same eyes looking back at me, the same ones my sister had.
There’s no way I’d allow him to get away with killing my sister after claiming it was an accident. Did he really think I’d accept that shit?
It was all fucking tragic.
That just made it worse.
I wanted to hurt him more.
I lost the one thing most precious to me because of a fucking accident. No. The justice system might have rolled over and shown the pi
ece of shit their balls but not me. I never forgot, and to say it was an accident, there’s no way I’d ever accept that. She’d had blunt force trauma to the head, and the proof of rape, which that bastard had called hard sex when questioned.
She had been my sister.
My family.
I wasn’t buying what that bastard had said, his lies, what he claimed.
He raped, tortured, and killed my sister.
And now I was going to hurt his little girl.
Staring at the door, I could remember how she looked right now. Not my sister but the young woman downstairs.
Still a high school student, exactly like my sister had been all that time ago.
I wondered if he even had a fucking clue it was me that had her.
Rebekah Sarah Tanner.
She’d looked so fucking young. So terrified.
It’s how my little sister probably looked all those years ago.
She didn’t get a fucking chance at life and neither did that fucking bitch in the basement. She’d get what was coming to her.
“You okay, Prez?” Crank asked.
Where the rest of the guys were back in the main clubhouse partying, Crank stayed by my side. Always there.
He took his role as my VP very seriously. When shit went down, which it always did, he was by my side, ready to take a bullet.
“Yeah, I’m good.” I rubbed the back of my head and turned toward the table that had all of her crap on it. She’d been holding it so damn tightly before we knocked her out. She had a school bag complete with all of her books. Opening it up, I emptied out the contents onto the table. Her school ID card, some perfume, and an array of other girl’s shit had been tucked inside.
