The Lost Boys MC Series: Books 1-4

by Savannah Rylan

  Because she had no idea the barrel that was pointed at her back right now.

  “Ready to head back to your hotel?” I asked.

  She nodded and turned around. And when she did, her ass softly brushed against me. The swell of her globed cheeks fluttered against the cock of my jeans, and I groaned softly. Freya whipped her head around, her eyes growing wide as her cheeks flushed. We stared at one another for a few silent seconds, and I waited for the slap. The crack of her hand against my cheek before she got into her car and quickly drove off.

  But instead, she smiled softly up at me.

  “Trust me, I know the feeling,” she said.

  My eyes bulged as she laughed. She got into her car and closed the door, which was the only sound ripping me from my trance. I double-backed to my bike, forcing myself to put some distance between us. And when she cranked up her car, I followed in suit.

  I cranked the engine of my bike up and followed her out of the parking lot.

  We traveled for almost twenty minutes. I mean, she was clear on the other side of San Diego. Smack dab in the middle of downtown, where hardly any of us frequented. I didn’t expect her to know anything about the big city, though. Especially big oceanside cities. Hell, San Diego had one hundred and forty-seven times the amount of people in it that Yuma did. There was no way she’d know a crew like us wouldn't venture into downtown as long as we could help it.

  Where she was from, the Celtic Riders probably owned downtown Yuma. Whereas we stayed away from any property in downtown as much as we could. In order to keep our cover with some of the shit we got ourselves into.

  I mean, that damn place was crawling with police we hadn’t yet tapped into.

  We turned down Main Street and I put a few cars behind us. I wanted to make it looked like I was backing off so Freya felt comfortable enough going to her hotel. Sure, having the block she was on was a good start, but knowing where she was staying was even better. I saw her warning lights flash and I knew that was her signaling me.

  “Back off or I drive by.”

  I pulled off onto a one-way street and cruised up it quickly. I took a hard left at the next light and followed it for a little while. I kept my engine as silent as I could, which wasn’t saying much. I looked down the alleyways to keep an eye on Freya’s car as she buzzed by every one-way street there was.

  Then, I passed by an alleyway where her car didn’t appear.

  I stopped revving my engine and took a hard left. I walked my bike down the one-way road until I came to the break in the sidewalk. I looked all around me, trying to pinpoint exactly where Freya had gone.

  I couldn't see her car anywhere, though.

  Shit.

  What I’d done wasn’t necessarily smooth. Just a last-ditch effort to figure out where she was staying. And if she knew what I was doing, it could put a damper on the trust we were trying to form with one another. Suddenly, those renovations at my place started to look mighty nice.

  “Nicer than pissing off the daughter of the most infamous crew around,” I murmured to myself.

  I turned around and walked my bike back up the alleyway. I took a left onto the one-way street and softly cruised it at a cool fifteen miles an hour. I breathed in the fresh air. Well, as fresh as it could have gotten for downtown. But when headlights came around the corner and turned off, my heart leapt into my throat.

  I took a hard right into the first alley I saw, hoping to avoid a fucking head-on collision.

  I listened to the car ease to a slowed pace. I furrowed my brow as I crept my bike back out to the one-way road. I caught the tail-end of the car turning into what I thought was an abandoned building. But when I took a good look at the cement wall I hid behind, I realized what it was attached to.

  A parking garage.

  I didn’t know what possessed me to sit there, but I did. I watched a few cars come and go from the parking garage. I didn’t even know this damn thing was back here. The more you learn, I supposed. It wasn’t until that small, thick figure emerged from the parking deck that my eyes widened.

  A gigantic smile spread across my face.

  Freya turned on a flashlight and gripped her purse tightly to her stomach. She rushed across the small one-way street, her feet leaping for the alleyway sidewalk. She looked petrified, and rightly so for what she’d been through tonight. I eased myself onto the deserted one-way road and walked my bike up to the corner. I got there with just enough time to see her open what looked like a fucking front door to an almost-hidden hotel.

  My eyes drifted to the illuminated sign on top of the small covered entryway.

  The Font of San Diego.

  I didn’t recognize the name of the hotel. Then again, I didn’t venture into downtown much. But as I revved my engine and sped off down the one-way street, a renewed sense of vigor filled my veins.

  I knew where Freya was holed up for her stay in the city.

  10

  Freya

  I flopped down onto the bed with my purse at my side. Holy hell, what a night. Every little sound made me jump, but the comforting noises outside told me I wasn’t alone. Not nearly as much as I felt. I was worried Bronx would follow me back to the hotel, but when I turned on my warning lights he seemed to back off. I didn’t want someone like that figuring out where I was staying. Not until I could figure out who The Lost Boys were a bit more. Even though he saved me, there was still something about him that put me on edge.

  He knew information and was reluctant to share it. And I didn’t like that.

  I heard the soft ringtone of my phone and groaned. Who in the world was calling me at this hour? I reached for my purse and slid my hand inside, grabbing my cell phone. But I didn’t get to the phone in time before it went to my voicemail.

  I had five missed calls when I looked at my phone.

  From my dad.

  “Shit,” I hissed.

  I pressed down onto his number and called him back.

  “Freya, where the hell are you?” my father asked, picking up the phone.

  “I’m sleeping, Dad,” I murmured.

  “I’ve been calling you all night. Why in the world didn’t you pick up your phone?”

  “Because I’ve been sleeping and getting acclimated. I just didn’t hear it.”

  “Then turn your damn ringer up. Your mother is worried sick about you.”

  I sighed. “Hence why I sent you the address and the name of the hotel I was staying at in San Diego.”

  My father and my mother fought on the other end of the line. I knew this wasn’t my father being worried. It was my mother. He only got mad like this when she hounded him. I always knew his anger was never directed at me. I rolled my eyes and kicked my shoes off, not bothering to take off my clothes.

  I wiggled underneath the covers while they continued to fight. Then, I heard my mother’s voice in my ear.

  “It’s two in the morning, why are you still up?” my mother asked.

  “Are you two for real right now? You guys woke me up,” I said.

  “Don’t give me that attitude. Your father gave you money for this trip, didn’t he?” she asked.

  “Don’t put me in the middle of this when you’re the one refusing to give answers.”

  “I’ll deal with your father and his favoritism toward you later. Right now, I want you to get some rest and then get home. You’re in danger.”

  “And why would that be?” I asked.

  “You just have to trust me on this, okay? You can’t go searching for her.”

  “For who?”

  “Your half-sister.”

  “What’s her name again? Sorry, I haven’t been able to figure that out yet,” I said flatly.

  “Freya, you might not agree with me, but I’m still your mother. Get your ass home now,” she said curtly.

  “No.”

  “I’m not going to ask you again.”

  “Good, because my answer isn’t going to change. I’m fine, and everything here is fine. I’ll see
you in a few days. Two weeks, at the most.”

  “Two weeks!?” my mother exclaimed.

  “I gave Dad the name and the address for the hotel I’m staying at. If you’d like to come into town and help me find her, we can share the bed in the room. Or, you can get your own—”

  “I’m not coming into San Diego. You’re coming home. Now. Or when you come home, there won’t be—”

  “Won’t be what?” I asked.

  The phone fell silent and I sighed. My eyes closed as my parents tussled with the phone again. I hunkered down underneath the cool sheets and sank into the comfortable mattress. If they weren’t careful, I’d fall asleep on this freaking phone conversation.

  “Hey, princess. You there?” my father asked.

  “Mom getting on your case?” I asked.

  “I can handle her. You know I always can.”

  “Why won’t she give me answers?”

  He sighed. “The story is complicated.”

  “So, you know.”

  “I do.”

  “And not even you will tell me?” I asked.

  “Because, like it or not, it really is for your own good. I know you don’t get it and I know you don’t understand it. But I think your mother’s afraid of the light it paints her in. Well, both of us.”

  I didn’t understand what the hell that even meant.

  “I’ll be back in a couple of weeks. That’s the plan. If I can’t make headway in a couple weeks, I’m headed back. But I want you to prepare Mom for the inevitable truth of all this,” I said.

  “Which would be?” my father asked.

  “I can’t live under the same roof with people who know such an important part of my life and are unwilling to tell me about it.”

  I was too tired to cry. But if I could, I would have.

  My father sighed. “I understand. She won’t, but I do.”

  “You always have, Daddy.”

  “I’ve always been stuck between the two of you and your bull-headed arguments.”

  I giggled. “You know you wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

  “Not one single bit. I love you both too much.”

  “I love you, too, Daddy.”

  “You call me if you need anything, okay? Anything at all. But you have to check in with me. Once a day, at least. San Diego is a massive city, and it’s not always kind to those in it.”

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Of course, princess.”

  “Why did the crew leave San Diego and relocate?”

  He paused. “What?”

  “I know more about the life you lead than I let on. I know you wanted to keep me away from it, but it’s hard not to pick up on what you do. Especially when all I wanted to do was know my father as much as I could growing up. I know you guys used to ride here in the city. What made you guys leave?”

  “What else do you know?” he asked.

  “Dad…”

  He sighed. “Fine. Fine. We uh…”

  He trailed off, so I put him on speakerphone. I dug my charger out of my purse and plugged it in, then put my cell on the charger. I set the phone on the nightstand and snuggled up, pulling the covers up to my chin.

  “Dad?” I asked softly.

  “Sorry. I’m here.”

  “Why did you leave?”

  He paused. “Because it was no longer safe for the crew to ride in town. The police were on our tail every step of the way, and I wanted to keep your mother safe.”

  I nodded slowly. “Okay.”

  “I want you to know that I deleted your text before your mother could see it. I’ll try to hold off as much as I can telling her where you are. But you know what will happen once she figures out where you are.”

  “I told her she was more than welcome to come stay with me and help with the search.”

  He chuckled. “I always underestimate the guts you have sometimes.”

  “A lot of people underestimate me, apparently,” I murmured.

  “What was that?” he asked.

  “Nothing. Just tired.”

  “Okay, sweetheart. Get some rest. Call again tomorrow night?”

  I yawned. “Talk with you then.”

  “Goodnight, princess.”

  “Night, Daddy.”

  He hung up the phone and the room fell silent. I closed my eyes and let my mind wander, drifting to and fro. Once my mother figured out where I was staying, it was only a matter of time before she descended into town and dragged me back home. By my ear, if necessary. That was one downside to my mother. She always felt as if she was right. Growing up, there was never having an opinion. Never discussing other options. It was her way or the highway, every single time. Unless my father interjected for some reason.

  And even then, sometimes she still won.

  As I laid there, feeling my body drifting off into sleep, I decided that my half-sister must be connected to The Lost Boys somewhere. So, my first step in the morning was doing research on them. I fell asleep and woke up with the sun, its rays streaming through the curtains of my hotel room. My eyes peeled open slowly and I sat up, cracking my neck and my back. I stretched my hands up to the ceiling, feeling every vertebrae pop before I stood to my feet.

  I quickly changed clothes and grabbed my laptop, taking it downstairs with me.

  The hotel breakfast was shockingly good. I grabbed some fruit. A large cup of coffee. I made myself some cinnamon and brown sugar oatmeal and found a table in the corner. I opened my laptop and began my search, slowly pilfering through the material I found on the local motorcycle crew.

  I found a very recent article that caught my eye. One that didn’t bode well for the man I’d encountered last night.

  Local Biker Gang, The Lost Boys, All Taken Into Custody.

  The headline was bold and brash. There were fuzzy pictures of some storage unit where they were arrested, apparently. And within the article were a bunch of clickable links. Taking me out to other articles. Some of them were wonderful. The charity work the crew did around town. Helping out kids and rallying around protested funerals to mask the sound of the protestors with the revving of their engines. Those stories made me smile.

  Then, there were other stories that made me think back onto my father’s statement last night.

  About things not being safe.

  There were a couple of small-time articles on the supposed connections The Lost Boys had within the police. Theories that they paid off a few people in the departments in order to gain information. One of the theories in the original article was that they paid a few of their pocketed policemen and women in order to gain their freedom back. Which made me furrow my brow.

  Was that why my father and the crew weren’t safe in the area? Because they hadn’t paid off police officers to help them along with things?

  The more I read, the more I figured out about the crew. Though, the links eventually linked back to nothing but gossip blogs. A couple of fanatical websites and local conspiracy groups. There was more good publicity on the crew than bad. But none of it got me any closer to figuring out where the hell my sister was.

  Or even where to begin searching for her.

  I sighed as I closed my laptop. I ate my breakfast and drowned my stomach in coffee. If there wasn’t anything online that could drum up a lead to where to start searching for my nameless half-sister, then I only had one option.

  I had to pray Bronx got in touch with me.

  “I knew I should have gotten his number last night,” I murmured.

  I’d been so taken by his dastardly good looks that I hadn’t been thinking straight. For all I knew, revealing who my father was scared him off. It should. My father was the president of a notorious motorcycle crew, apparently. I mean, I didn't understand how far their reputation stretched until speaking with Bronx last night. Which only drove a nail into my coffin for this trip.

  Please get in touch with me. Please get in touch with me. Please get in touch with me.

  As much as I
hated to admit it, that man was my only hope. Which meant I’d have to, in part, play by his rules. That was one thing I got from my father. I didn’t enjoy playing by someone else’s rules. And if I was lucky enough to have Bronx get in touch with me, I’d have to play him like a fiddle until he began feeding me information I could use.

  11

  Bronx

  “This is Stone.”

  “Stone. It’s Bronx.”

  “Oh, hey,” he said. “I didn’t recognize the number.”

  “Yeah I needed to get a new number.” I said.

  “Who’s that?”

  Hayley’s voice spoke softly in the background and I grinned.

  “Whoops,” I said, chuckling.

  “What is it you want?” Stone asked.

  “We need to call church. I’ve got something to bring up to the group.”

  “Can it wait until the morning?”

  “Some girl’s looking around for Hayley.”

  He paused before I heard shuffling around. Hayley murmured her discontent in the background before a door opened and closed. I closed the small garage door and walked into my house, staring at all the half-finished renovations of my kitchen.

  If I worked through the night, I could probably get it finished.

  “What the fuck’s going on, Bronx?” Stone asked.

  “I was riding around and came upon some girl being assaulted in an alleyway. Didn’t think much of it, got the dickhead arrested, we got some food. Yadda yadda. She said she was looking for her half fucking sister, Stone. Then, she just whipped out a picture of Hayley,” I said.

  “Did you tell her Hayley’s name?”

  “No. I said I didn’t recognize her, but that a group of guys I knew might be able to help her. Might.”

  “Did you say half-sister?” he whispered.

  “Yeah. I did.”

  “Shit,” he hissed.

  “What’s going on?”

  Stone grumbled. “Look, I’ll call church first thing in the morning. Be ready to get to the lodge around nine. Hayley’s having a nice evening, and I don’t wanna ruin it for her. We’ll talk and I’ll fill all of you guys in there all at once.”