The Lost Boys MC Series: Books 1-4

by Savannah Rylan

  “Is there something I should know now?”

  He paused. “Hayley has reason to believe her mother isn’t dead.”

  I sighed and closed my eyes. Of course. Of. Fucking. Course. I cleared my throat as Stone rummaged around on the phone call, and soon I felt my phone vibrate in my hand.

  “Church text?” I asked.

  “Yep. Just sent it out. Lodge. Nine in the morning sharp,” he said.

  “I’ll be there.”

  We hung up the phone and I tossed it onto the kitchen table. I slipped my leather jacket off and walked over to the plumbing I had to fix underneath the sink. I wasn’t tired, and I knew I’d never get to sleep after the excitement of tonight. So, I got to finishing up the renovations in the kitchen. I finished the plumbing underneath the sink and got the dishwasher hooked up. I laid down the rest of the stone tiles, then settled the marble countertops down onto the kitchen counter and the island. I ran one last coat of paint over the light blue cabinets, then exchanged the hardware for leather accents I found in some depot store across town.

  Then, I ran a sealant over the stone and the grout so the damn kitchen floor wouldn't have to be scrubbed on hands and knees every damn day.

  The kitchen looked nice. The fridge and stove were very outdated. And the new stainless steel dishwasher only accented that. But with time, I could buy new ones. The white marble countertops went well with the pale blue cabinetry. And the leather accented handles on everything contrasted the lightness of the room very well. I looked at the clock and saw it was almost six in the morning. The sun barely rose at the front of the house, which meant I could fix a few things in the bathroom before cleaning myself up.

  So, I did.

  I walked upstairs and discarded my sweaty, nasty clothes in the hamper. Then, I got to work. I replaced the massive mirror that had been cracked a while ago. I got up onto the dated bathroom counter and changed out the light fixtures. I wanted the bulbs to be bare, with chrome accents against the wall to project the light out. And once I slipped down from the counter, I went ahead and resolved myself to getting ready for church.

  After I fixed the plumbing underneath the bathroom sink, too.

  The renovations weren’t too bad. The major things in the bathroom would have to be last. Now that the last of the kitchen issues were complete, I could turn my sights and energy into finishing that second bedroom.

  “Almost there,” I murmured.

  I got out of the shower just as the sun poured heavily through the small bathroom window. I dried myself off and got into a clean pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I pulled my boots on and walked downstairs, smiling at the stone steps.

  They echoed the flooring of the kitchen perfectly, which contrasted and brought out the bright marble flooring that matched the marble of the kitchen countertops I’d just put in.

  I liked doing that. Taking two materials and fusing them together by interchanging the rooms they were in and the foundations they accented.

  “In another life,” I said, sighing.

  Sure, I was good with numbers, but I loved working with my hands. Taught myself everything I knew and put all my skills to work in this rundown place. Which didn’t look so rundown anymore with every room I fixed. I brewed myself a massive cup of coffee and went to sit out back. I had another hour to burn before I needed to be at the lodge, so I sat on my back patio and gazed out over the ocean.

  This was why I’d bought the place.

  There was a quarter of an acre of land in front of me before the drop-off of the cliff. And down below, a pristine untouched beach with the water lapping at its shoreline. I looked out over the white-capped waves and sipped my coffee. The sun rose behind me, in front of the house, and thrust upon the sky a beautiful illumination that colored the ocean. Oranges and pinks. Blues and purples. All of it, mirrored in the angry sea that forecasted yet another storm brewing off the coast.

  Those were the best nights. Watching storms roll in from the ocean.

  I drew in a deep breath and finished off my coffee. I could enjoy the view again tonight, after I got some more work done on the house. If I kept up my momentum like this, I could have that second bedroom done before tomorrow night. Which meant I could finally start making my bedroom and bathroom out to be what I wanted.

  But I had to get through this church meeting first.

  It didn’t take me long to get to the lodge. I was actually the first one to arrive. I walked inside and saw Stone pacing back and forth, nervous and ready to get this over with. I didn’t blame him. I knew he loved Hayley with a fury unlike anything this world had ever witnessed. And to know she had a completely unanswered portion of her life walking around in San Diego probably had him on edge all night.

  Judging by the bags underneath he eyes, he didn’t get a lick of sleep.

  One by one, the lodge door opened. First, Texas. Then, Notch. We all gathered in the living room and watched Stone sit down. Which meant shit was up. The man never sat down for any meeting unless he was so dog-tired he couldn’t see straight.

  The three of us looked around before taking seats in our leather recliners we’d placed in the living room for such affairs.

  “What the absolute fuck is going on, Bronx?” Stone asked.

  “Is there something we don’t know about?” Texas asked.

  “Why do I get the feeling I’m already behind?” Notch asked.

  I sighed. “It’s not much. Apparently, Hayley’s been questioning whether or not her mother’s really dead. And I ran into her half-sister last night.”

  “Wait. That’s not much?” Texas asked.

  “I mean, it’s easy to sum up,” I said.

  “What the fuck?” Notch asked.

  “Does Hayley know?” Texas asked.

  “No. I haven’t told her anything yet,” Stone grumbled.

  “And I don’t have any proof except for a picture this girl’s carrying around that Hayley is even related to her,” I said.

  “Do they look alike?” Notch asked.

  I sighed. “Honestly? They’ve got some serious similarities. Hair color. Stature. Face shape. Lips.”

  “Shit you inherit,” Stone said, sighing.

  “Exactly,” I said.

  “Who the hell is this girl? What's her name?” Stone asked.

  “Freya. I didn’t get a last name,” I said.

  “Do you have her number? How long is she in town? Are you going to see her again?”

  “Whoa, whoa, Stone. Take a breath,” Texas said.

  “Take a breath? Are you serious? Hayley’s been through enough shit, and now you want me to pump the brakes when I find out she’s got some half-sister runnin’ around fuckin’ San Diego!?”

  “He’s got a point,” Notch said.

  “What if this is another trap by Terry?” Stone asked.

  “That’s a possibility. But I honestly don’t think that,” I said.

  “Why? Because you want to bang her?” Stone hissed.

  I furrowed my brow. “I’m not Notch, dude.”

  “Hey. I resent that comment,” Notch said.

  “No, you really don’t,” Texas said.

  Notch shrugged and Stone grumbled underneath his breath.

  “I want to know everything about this woman. I want to know who she is, where she comes from, and what the fuck she’s after. She gets no information on Hayley until we have her entire life laid out for us.”

  “I’ve got her number. It’s a start,” I said.

  “First, we all need to agree to protect Hayley,” Stone said.

  “Duh,” Texas said.

  “Hell, yeah. Of course we will,” Notch said.

  “There wasn’t even a question about that,” I said.

  “Good. We need to proceed with caution, but quickly,” Stone said.

  “We do have a place to start with validation, though,” I said.

  “What do you mean?” Notch asked.

  I looked around the group warily. “Her name is Freya, and she
says she’s the daughter of the president of the Celtic Riders.”

  Texas paused. “Wait a second. She’s claiming to be Asher’s daughter?”

  “You know him?” Notch asked.

  “Who the hell doesn't?” Texas asked.

  “I didn’t know exactly who their president was. I just knew they used to run in San Diego,” Stone said.

  “Yeah, no. Asher runs that group now. Got them out of San Diego without a single arrest and cleaned them up. They’re somewhere in Arizona now, I think. I mean, they fucking fell off the face of the map before resurfacing with their noses completely clean of the drugs they used to peddle,” Texas said.

  “That’s some serious shit. Sounds like a bad dude with a good backbone,” Notch said.

  “And Freya claims to be his daughter?” Stone asked.

  “Yep. She even called my leather jacket a ‘cut’. Natural as hell and everything,” I said.

  “Then, we start with verifying that story. Without alerting the Celtic Riders, of course,” Stone said.

  “That even possible? They’re legendary,” I said.

  “Just do it,” Stone growled.

  “Do you think this means the Celtic Riders are coming back into town?” Notch asked.

  I paused. “That’s actually a damn good question.”

  “And one we can’t concern ourselves with. If they are, we best be on their good side. Bronx?” Stone asked.

  “Yep?”

  “You said you had her number?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Call her. You’re already in her good graces because you saved her. Let’s keep it that way. Texas and Notch can work on confirming her story and getting background info on her. As much of it as we can get. And I’ll keep all this out of Hayley’s ear until we figure out what it is we’re dealing with right now,” Stone said.

  “On it,” Texas said.

  “I can start placing some calls,” Notch said.

  “Good. Bronx, time for you to go place one as well,” Stone said.

  Then, he dismissed church.

  12

  Freya

  Just as I made my way back up to my room, my phone rang. I shoved my shoulder into the hotel room door and tossed my laptop onto the bed. My heart pounded in my chest as I closed the door behind me, gazing down at the unrecognizable number scrolling across the screen of my phone.

  Could it be?

  “Hello?” I asked, answering the call.

  Hopefully I didn’t sound too eager for it to be him.

  “There’s that angelic voice,” Bronx said.

  I smiled. “Good morning.”

  “Wasn’t sure if you’d be up yet or not. Since it’s not even ten.”

  “What time do you think us Arizona girls get up at?”

  He paused. “That where you’re from?”

  “Do you not remember that from last night?”

  He chuckled. “Well, let’s just say I don’t and we’ll call it even. Yeah?”

  I giggled. “Yes. I’m from Arizona. Yuma, to be exact.”

  “How does it fair to San Diego?”

  “I can’t hardly breathe with the humidity.”

  He laughed, and the sound washed over me like cleansing, church-like baptism.

  “You’ll get used to it eventually,” he said.

  Oh, the luck I had with him calling me this morning.

  “To what do I owe this morning wake-up call?” I asked.

  “I was hoping you were free to get together this afternoon. If you’d like.”

  “I’d love to. What’s the plan?”

  “Well, I figured since you don’t really know people in town, I could help you go around and ask people about the girl in that picture. At least with me at your side, no one will mess with you this time.”

  I giggled. “That sounds like a great plan. Do you want to ride in my car or something?”

  “I actually figured I’d come pick you up at your mystery hotel and you could ride on the back of my bike. You know, a little slice of home in a big city that isn’t yours.”

  My heart fluttered in my chest. “I’d like that, actually. Believe it or not, it’s been a while since I’ve been on the back of a bike. My father tried to keep me away from that lifestyle as much as he could.”

  “I don’t blame him. It gets squirrely sometimes.”

  “Squirrely?”

  He chuckled. “Only word that came to mind in the moment.”

  I sat on the edge of my bed. “What time were you thinking?”

  “Whenever you’re ready is fine with me. I’ve got no plans for my day.”

  Perfect. I could spend time with Bronx and have more time to weasel my way closer to him. Maybe if I earned his trust a bit, I could get him to cough up the information I knew he had on the girl in this picture.

  “Give me an hour?” I asked.

  “I’ll see you around eleven, then,” he said.

  I hung up the phone and rushed myself into the shower. I took the quickest shower of my life, then used the small hotel blow dryer to try and blow out my hair. It didn’t work as well as I wanted it to, so I ran some water back through my thick hair and watched my natural waves appear. I groaned, but it would have to do. I pulled it back into a low ponytail and rummaged through my duffle bag, trying to piece together a decent outfit.

  It wasn’t as if I had technically packed for the trip.

  Much to my dismay, it looked as if I had grabbed the majority of my fall clothes. Jeans and long-sleeved shirts. Knee-high boots and scarves. My only saving grace was a couple of shorts and a few dresses I found stuffed in the bottom.

  Thank heavens, I had plenty of bras and panties in this one.

  I pulled out one of my dresses and figured I could put a pair of shorts underneath it. I slipped on my knee-high boots as protection for my legs as we rode around on the bike, then slapped on a bit of makeup. I wasn’t much of a wearer. The only things I owned were multiple lipsticks, mascara, and eyeliner. Chapstick, too. I splashed some on and tried to make it look nice, then I grabbed my things and headed downstairs.

  I stood outside in the most insane outfit alive. A deep green quarter-sleeved dress with swirls of orange and red. I had short jean shorts underneath and brown boots that came up over my knees. The dress fell just over the tops of the boots, making the ensemble look like one mismatched, misplaced fall fashion show.

  But it was all I had.

  Bronx pulled up on his bike and tossed me a helmet. I slipped it over my head and slung my leg over the bike, inching my way closer to him. I wrapped my arms around his chest, what with his guest seat being higher set than his. And the strength of his chest forced me to swallow a moan as my fingertips curled into his muscles.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “Ready when you are,” I said, giggling.

  He roared away from the curb and I closed my eyes. The feeling of the bike rumbling underneath me reminded me of home. I relaxed against his back, allowing his bike to take me wherever it wanted. Bronx rode me around San Diego, pointing out a few of the buildings and cruising up the coastline. He talked into the microphone routed into my ear, his high-tech helmets keeping us connected as he fed me little tidbits of the mysterious city I’d ventured into.

  But I couldn't help but feel as if this was a distraction from our original purpose. Bronx was a great distraction, though. One I didn’t mind.

  “Were you born and raised here?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “Nope. Grew up in the northern part of the state. Well, kind of. Two hours north of here, really. A small town that didn’t really belong to anywhere.”

  “Did you like growing up there?”

  “Eh, it was what it was.”

  “Why do you say it like that?” I asked.

  “Well, when you watch your mother spiral into a drug addiction you can’t save her from, it kind of taints things.”

  I hugged him close, trying to comfort him as his muscles tensed.

  “I’
m so sorry, Bronx.”

  “I mean, I tried to help her as much as I could. She turned to them as a release when my dad started pushing her around. But they swallowed her whole after he ran out on us with some woman up the road.”

  “Holy shit,” I said.

  “She really dug in hard after that. Snorting away her emotions. I tried to help her where I could. Got jobs to support the house so we wouldn't lose it to her addiction. But a teenage boy can only do so much.”

  “Of course. Yeah.”

  “Still, I tried. I tried getting her away from the people who were hurting her, and I tried being a distraction whenever her dealers stopped by the house. But you can’t save someone from themselves. They have to want to do that part,” he said.

  “That’s very true.”

  “I don't know. In some ways, I kind of feel like I failed her.”

  “Is she still alive?”

  He nodded slowly. “In jail for a very long time for possession with intent to sell. They caught her in the middle of buying, and she was obtaining so much of it they assumed she was going to turn around and sell it herself.”

  I had no idea what to even say to that.

  “You didn’t fail her, Bronx,” I said.

  “Yeah, well. Life’s shit like that sometimes,” he said.

  I was shocked at how open he had been. All my life, I’d had to dig the truth out of people. I had to read between the lines of what they were really doing. What they were really saying. Bronx’s openness was such a breath of fresh air that my eyes watered.

  And when I drew in a ragged breath, he straightened his back.

  “Do I need to pull off the road?” he asked.

  “No, no, no,” I said breathlessly.

  “Then, tell me what’s going on back there,” he commanded.

  I sighed. “Nothing bad. It’s just… your openness and honest was so nice.”

  He paused. “You not used to that?”

  We came to a stop light and the movement of the bike stopped.

  “Not really, no. I mean, I grew up in a crew, sure. But not really. My father felt as if that lifestyle was something that should always have been kept from me. So, that came with a lot of talking around the truth. Talking generally about things. Roundabout ways of not really lying but not really telling the truth. If I wanted the truth, I had to go out and find it for myself. Like with this picture and this girl I’m apparently related to. Even now, with my mother and father knowing I’m here, all she keeps saying is that I’m in danger somehow. That finding my half-sister will somehow put me in harm’s way. And she won't even tell me why. They just expect me to blindly follow, and I’m tired of it.”