Bronx
The Lost Boys MC #3
Savannah Rylan
Copyright © 2019 by Savannah Rylan
All rights reserved.
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Contents
1. Bronx
2. Freya
3. Bronx
4. Freya
5. Bronx
6. Freya
7. Bronx
8. Freya
9. Bronx
10. Freya
11. Bronx
12. Freya
13. Bronx
14. Freya
15. Bronx
16. Freya
17. Bronx
18. Freya
19. Bronx
20. Freya
21. Bronx
22. Freya
23. Bronx
24. Freya
25. Freya
Sneak Peak at Notch
More Books by Savannah Rylan
About the Author
One
Bronx
I took my glasses off and sat at my desk. Stone had me working all sorts of odd hours trying to legitimize these purchases and clean all this money quickly from the guns we sold from Yung and his pack of bandits. I massaged my temples while numbers raced through my head. If the guys ever barged into my office and saw that I needed glasses at twenty-five years old to read all these damn numbers, I’d never hear the end of it. But the small print alone gave me headaches while squinting in my dimly lit office. And with a church meeting coming up, I had to make sure I had the proper figures to give them.
Especially with Stone making strides to open up a new bar.
We had to lay low for an entire week. A whole week in that sweaty, smelly bunker with the crew and nothing but a rudimentary set up of tech. I mean, I got it. I understood it. But, with our crew having girls and children we needed to protect, I felt like a sitting duck. Some sort of stable target for someone to come bomb. Ella and Keva needed protection. Whoever the hell Stone had as an informant needed protection as well. From the police. From the Chinese.
From fucking Boulder.
“Absolute asshat,” I murmured.
I tossed my glasses down and leaned back into my chair. I sighed and closed my eyes, listening as the door to the lodge burst open every now and again. The guys were gathering. After dispersing from the bunker and going to get a drink at the bar with Notch, I’d been hard at work. For four days, I pushed money through to clean it. For four days, I ran calculations and reran new budgets to keep us in check. For four days, I worked alongside Notch, making sure the Chinese couldn’t be traced back to us. Working so this lodge was fortified and safe in case we needed it.
And we really needed it.
“Bronx. You ready?” Stone asked.
He rapped his knuckles against my office door as I sighed.
“Yep. Gimme a sec,” I said, groaning.
I stood up from my desk and gathered up the papers. I knew the guys wouldn't give a shit-all about looking at them, but I had them in case I needed to remember some things. Usually, I could rattle off numbers and formulas off the top of my head, but when pressure settled onto our shoulders, it was ride or die. Survive or be eaten. And during those times, my mind didn’t give a fuck-all about numbers.
All it cared about was protecting myself and the people around me.
I came out of my office and started for the lodge. I clenched the papers in my hand, making my way for the guys. I tucked my glasses away in the breast pocket of my leather jacket so they wouldn't tease the ever-loving hell out of me for them. And when I got there, they were all standing around and waiting.
“So, how bad is it?” Stone asked.
I shrugged. “Not as bad as you think.”
“The money clean?” Notch asked.
“Yep. Money’s all been run through the bar, traded out for twenties and fifties, stuck back into the bar, and has been used for the past three days. Far as I’m concerned, the money we unloaded has been equally traded through the bar with little to no loss incurred,” I said.
“English?” Texas asked.
I quirked an eyebrow. “That wasn’t English enough for you?”
Stone chuckled. “A simple ‘yes’ would have been fine.”
I rolled my eyes. Sometimes even the guys underestimated my knowledge because of what I looked like. Deep brown eyes. Black hair. Just under six feet tall with two hundred and thirty pounds of muscle on me. Sure, I had tattoos everywhere. Down my arms. Along my thighs. A damn mural on my back. Dates and names and shit on my chest. But that didn’t mean I was a fucking idiot.
However, sometimes I felt like I was surrounded by them.
That was what drew me into the man I wouldn’t name. The asshat detective that betrayed all of us. He was smart. Too smart. And I should have noticed it. Thank hell I listened to my gut. Thank fuck I didn’t put him in charge of counting money and shit at the bar. That man could have done some fucking damage had I really let him in like I should have with any other prospect.
My gut was the only thing I trusted nowadays. Especially with all this shit kicking up.
“How good are we on funds?” Notch asked.
“You mean how much are we all gonna get paid?” I asked.
“That, too. But if you’d tuck in the attitude long enough, I’d also like to know how we are lookin’ in terms of settin’ up another bar,” Stone said.
I rolled my eyes. “Each of us will easily take home two hundred and fifty thousand from the sales we’ve made. Even with the discounts we gave clients, those two shipments were hefty as fuck. I’ll divvy it out equally like we always do, every two weeks. So, nothing will change through the end of the year.”
“Perfect. That’s what I was goin’ for. And the bar?” Stone asked.
“Already talked about it, remember? Got a reserve account in a fake name up and ready to go whenever we wanna start,” I said.
“That hasn’t been compromised?” Texas asked.
I shook my head. “Nope. And I make sure it isn’t. Because if all else fails with this shit, that’s money we can live off of sparingly until we get our shit together.”
“Damn, you’re good,” Notch said, grinning.
At least someone thought so.
“Okay. Since our money situation is under control, that begs another question. The fuck are we doing about the Chinese and that damn detective now?” Texas asked.
“Well, we do have something working in our favor with the detective,” Stone said.
“Oh?” I asked.
He nodded. “You guys remember that informant? The one who tipped us off to the fact that last week was a scam?”
“Yeah?” Texas asked.
Stone grinned. “My informant is the detective’s daughter. Hayley Woolf.”
Notch’s jaw dropped open and Texas started to laugh.
“Holy shit,” I said.
“You’re bangin’ the detective’s daughter!?” Texas exclaimed.
“Don’t you dare talk about her like that,” Stone growled.
Notch’s brow furrowed. “You’re in love with the detective’s daughter.”
Stone sighed. “Her name’s Hayley, and she’s going to need our protection.”
“Done, and done,” I said.
When it came to women needing protection, I was all over it. After watching my mother get pushed around by my father, I didn’t tolerate people intimidating women. Or children, for that matter. And when my fath
er finally ran off with some slut down the road, Mom fell into drugs. Hard. She coped by snorting her feelings and shooting up to navigate her tears. And when drugs landed her in jail, I swore to myself that any woman in my circle would be happy. Be healthy. Be safe and protected. That no harm would ever come to them, so long as I had anything to do about it.
I’d gone to great lengths behind the scenes to protect Ella and Keva. And if this Hayley girl had been brought into the mix, then so be it.
“How did Hayley come across this information?” Notch asked.
“Oh, that’s a hell of a story. But the gist is her father has an in-home office he doesn’t lock. And when she asked him about us, he got all dodgy and it made her worried. She went snoopin’ around, found what she did, and called me about it,” Stone said.
“Man, you had her dickmatized,” Texas said, grinning.
“One more word and you’ll have no teeth,” Stone grumbled.
I masked my chuckles with my papers, looking down into them. I’d never see our president like this before. I mean, he brought women into the bars all the time. Nasty, trashy women with smudged lipstick from blowing his cock and messy hair from him forcing them down into his lap. The man ran through women like rolls of toilet paper, but love looked good on him.
I’d never say that shit out loud, but it did.
“Well, we’ve pissed off Yung and Cheng. I know Notch hasn’t gotten any emailed responses from them, but I’m sure they aren’t happy,” I said.
“Nope. Got nothing from them,” Notch confirmed.
“You think they’ll let us off the hook?” Texas asked.
Stone snickered. “In your damn dreams. The only thing we can hope for is that Yung didn’t know his name. Cheng had copped a deal with pigs. At best, that would put Yung back on our side. At worst, he’ll come after all of us for somehow being involved in the conspiracy.”
“Hayley somewhere safe?” Notch asked.
“Ella and Keva are. I’ve single-handedly footed a very nice vacation for them on the California coast. Complete with cashing in a favor from a crew up there I know, The Rat Bastards,” Texas said.
“How the hell are those asshats doing?” Stone asked.
Texas grinned. “As crass as you can figure. But they’ve agreed to keep watch over Ella and Keva in exchange for a favor in the future. I assume they’ll call either you or me to collect eventually.”
“Good. Good move, Texas,” Stone said.
“What about Hayley?” I asked.
“You leave that to me. I’ll figure out something. In the meantime, Notch?” Stone asked.
“Already ahead of you. Set up a schedule and I’ll be around when you’re not,” he said.
“Anything you need me to do?” I asked.
“Keep up with the money and the numbers. That’s all I need you to do,” Stone said.
Yeah, yeah.
“You know, maybe we should take some sort of stand against them. You know, if the Chinese come after us,” Notch said.
“We could put down a few of them. Show them we mean business,” Texas said.
“They screwed us over big time. Sold us out to that damn detective. They need to answer for that,” I said.
“Well, you guys know as well as I do that I’m up for a little blood-spilling. But a full-out war with the Chinese isn’t the best idea. On a bad day, they outnumber us six-to-one. Which aren’t very good odds, even if we do keep ourselves fortified. Thank you for that, by the way, Bronx,” Stone said.
“No problem,” I said.
“And while we’re strong, we’re also a smaller motorcycle club. There’s maybe thirty people we can call on to help us fight. I’m not about to slaughter my crew to make a stand against some assholes across the ocean,” Stone said.
“We have a lot more contacts we could call, including The Rat Bastards,” Texas said.
“Yeah, but not nearly as many contacts as the Chinese. If they were to ever call in reinforcements, we’d be done. Us, and everyone involved with us,” Stone said.
Notch grumbled to himself as Texas sighed.
“So, what the hell are we supposed to do, then?” I asked.
And that was when the group fell silent.
That was the big issue. No one knew what the fuck we were supposed to be doing. Opening a bar during this kind of heat wasn’t a good idea. But come the end of the year, we wouldn't have another source of income other than the bar we already had. And if anyone suggested partnering up with one of the local gangs to run drugs, I’d be out. I’d turn my back on this crew faster than Stone could shove a knife into a man’s gut. I wouldn’t touch the stuff. Not one bit.
Not after what it did to my mother.
“Are we safe to go home? Or should we be bunking here?” I asked.
“I’m headed back to Hayley. I don’t want to leave her alone at my place for long amounts of time,” Stone said.
“And I want to get home and make sure things appear as normal as possible. I mean, Ella’s car is still there to make it look like they’re home. I’ve got timers on the lights and everything,” Texas said.
“Well, I don’t have shit like that to deal with. So, whatever you guys need from me, let me know,” Notch said.
“Same here,” I said.
“Notch, it might be wise to tone down the one-night stands for a while,” Stone said.
“Already done. I don’t plan on going out and bringing anyone back to my place until this shit is settled,” he said.
“Bronx?” Texas asked.
I rolled my eyes. “I’m a tatted up biker who runs numbers. Get real.”
“Aww, someone having a bad day?” Stone asked, grinning.
“You know, you really piss me off sometimes,” I said, chuckling.
“Good. Means I’m doing my job right,” Stone said.
“So, are we closing down church without a solution on where to go from here?” Texas asked.
We all looked around the room at one another as I tucked the financials away in the back pocket of my jeans.
“I guess we are,” Stone said.
And with a snap of his fingers, church was dismissed.
Two
Freya
I set the last box of my things down in my childhood bedroom. I heard my father and my mother downstairs, talking lowly to themselves. They’d stop every time I walked by. And while I wasn’t the most worldly individual around, I understood what they were doing. They were talking about me. Talking about what to do with me. What to do with their twenty-three year old daughter that has just moved back into their home after graduating from Arizona State University in Phoenix.
I hated it when they did that kind of stuff.
My father’s motorcycle was what greeted me when I pulled up. My mother always made a habit of parking her SUV in the garage. So, my father always kept his bike outside. Which was a good sign, because it meant things with his crew were good. That he wasn’t in any sort of trouble. But if he ever parked it in the shadows or behind the house, I knew something was wrong.
I knew the crew had gotten themselves into some trouble.
I didn’t really know what my father did for a living. I mean, I speculated a lot as a child. He rode with the Celtic Riders, and I knew he worked. I knew he brought in money for a living because my mother was a stay-at-home mom my entire life. But I didn’t know how the crew brought their money in. I figured it probably wasn’t good. Every once in a while, police would show up asking to see him. Asking to talk with him. Sometimes, the guys from the crew would come by late at night and he’d shoo my mother upstairs with me to play and generally keep me distracted.
I loved my father, but sometimes I was aware of the fact that he did dangerous things with his life.
Everyone always calls me innocent. My father. My mother. My friends from school. They use that word in place of “naive.” Apparently, trusting people until they gave me a reason not to trust them wasn’t smart. But it was how I’d always been. I enjoy
ed giving people the benefit of the doubt. I guess because of how I was raised. I always gave my father the benefit of the doubt. Other than his mysterious work with the Celtic Riders, he was a good man. A loving man. He was devoted to my mother, came to all of my violin recitals as a child, and even entertained my want to take ballet lessons despite being short and stout my entire life.
I just grew up with the notion that there was more to a person than what they looked like. Or what they did for a living.
College was kind to me. Neither my mother nor my father were happy that I wanted to go Phoenix for school. According to my mother, three hours away was too far. And according to my father, if something were to ever go wrong it would be hard for him to reach me. I loved my parents with all the love I had to offer. They were good parents.
But I wasn’t sure I wanted to stay in Yuma the rest of my life.
“Freya!” my father called out.
“Yeah, Daddy?”
“Can you come down here a second?”
“Sure! Gimme one second,” I yelled.
I looked at the array of boxes sitting in my room. It looked like a lot, but it all fit into my little compact car. My clothes, my trinkets, my shoes, the few books from college I kept, some final projects I wasn’t willing to part with, and the books I read for fun. No furniture, like most young adults came with nowadays. No pictures to hang on apartment walls. No decorative vases or junk drawers to clean out. I didn’t have any of that. Dorm living didn’t give me the ability to have any of those things.
Despite how much I begged my parents to let me get an apartment off-campus.
My father thought I needed to focus on my studies instead of getting a part-time job. My mother thought it was simply too dangerous. Being on campus gave me everything I needed in terms of a meal plan, a place to sleep, and a building that was guarded by on-campus police. Hell, they practically knew my father by his first name, he called up there so much. One of the officers that ended up getting to know me by name called my father “Mr. Asher.”
Bronx: The Lost Boys MC #3 Page 1
