by Jayne Blue
RYDER
By
Jayne Blue
Text copyright ©2016
Jayne Blue All Rights Reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the author or publisher, except where permitted by law or for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
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
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Books By Jayne Blue
A Note From Jayne Blue
Excerpt from Lincoln
Sneak Peek at Nash – A Great Wolf MC Romance
Excerpt from Ride Trilogy
Chapter One
Jules
Dad’s whole club was out there in the church pews. The Devil’s Hawks members were on their best behavior.
Even if my mom wasn’t on another continent, I was pretty sure she wouldn’t have lifted a finger to help me anyway. She’d chosen her happiness over mine when she’d left Daddy and his club. I was on my own.
I was the prized daughter of a ruthless outlaw, and he was marrying me into his favorite family that lived on the right side of the law.
Officer David Wexler, was about to be my husband. The entire idea made me sick to my stomach. Daddy told him I was his so that was it. I belonged to the club, and the club was giving me to David.
David and his father, The Judge, seemed to be thrilled about it. At least they smiled all the damn time. Daddy sealed my fate with a scowl. Sonny Maldonado did everything with a scowl. He only smiled when someone else was in pain. I’d learned that sad fact in the last few weeks.
I looked in the mirror at the Pinterest perfect hair. Daddy had sent a hair and makeup lady over to the house to me this morning. My blonde hair, usually in a pony, or in some wavy disarray, was now coiled, shaped, and piled all over my head. It looked exactly like Daddy expected a bride should look. I didn’t look like me. I looked like a perfectly wrapped package.
The rehearsal dinner last night was a preview for the rest of my life. David, my groom, was so smarmy with Daddy. The Judge acted like this was some sort of royal wedding.
Royal bullshit. That’s what it was.
David was sucking up to Daddy. Everybody sucked up to Daddy. I just tried not to throw up. Bile rose in my throat every time David put a hand on my shoulder or The Judge, and Daddy whispered to each other. I wasn’t a person. I was property.
“It’s a good match.” Daddy wore his leather at the restaurant for the rehearsal dinner. He always had on his leather. The Devil’s Hawks logo, a hawk’s head, his president patch, his tattoos, all of it screamed outlaw. Yet there he was, marrying me to a policeman, the son of a judge.
Daddy had told me the time and the place and ordered me to put a smile on my face. I raged and cried when he issued his edict. He sat stone-faced and then he spit on the floor during my meltdown.
He told me the hair and makeup this morning was only part of my wedding gift, and no matter how red-eyed I was, I’d still be expected to stand and smile for pictures.
Any girl would probably be thrilled with the movie star treatment I was getting on my wedding day.
I wasn’t.
Today, on my wedding day, I was wearing a bridal gown I didn’t pick out, to walk down an aisle of a church I didn’t attend, to marry a man I didn’t love.
I actually didn’t even like him. At. All.
Daddy had arranged it. He said marrying David Wexler was my duty to the family.
“Wexlers are one of the keys to my operations. They’re loyal to the family. Just like you are. Cheech’s ass would be in the pen if it weren't for them.”
Daddy said it more to himself than to me. Daddy wasn’t worried about convincing me. Cheech was his brother. I had no idea why Cheech would be in the pen. I didn’t want to know.
Daddy was the president of the Devil’s Hawks as long as I could remember. People did what he said, or they were hurt or disappeared.
He’d kept me on the sidelines of his life and his club while he ruled every decision about my life. My mother wasn’t with the program so she was cut out.
Right, about now I wished I could be cut out too.
I almost was. I went away to college. Those four years made me think I was free of the Devil’s Hawks. It lulled me into believing I could have a life. My own life.
Daddy was showing me how wrong I was. How in control of everything he was.
Daddy had evil deeds to do, and I was just a tool to help him do them. Everyone around him was in service to his vision of the Devil’s Hawks.
“Daddy I can’t marry him. I don’t even know him.” When he’d told me what he was forcing me into, I’d felt the hot sting of tears roll down my cheeks. At the same time the cold realization that I didn’t have a choice settled into my chest. If Daddy said to do something, you did it. His club did. Everyone did.
My mother’s only advice to me about survival was to look the other way. She said she didn’t want to know more and advised me to take the same stance. Play dumb about Devil’s Hawks she said. And I did. A teenage girl can easily only concern herself with her own problems. But I wasn’t a teenager anymore. This was my real life.
That ignorance was now costing my freedom. I had no argument to make. I had no escape plan. My life was Daddy’s to use as he wanted just as much as the men who wore the Hawk’s cut.
Fuck. That.
I wasn’t going to sacrifice my freedom or my life for my Daddy’s evil group of bastard bikers.
It was my life, and I wasn’t going to be a slave to Daddy’s club.
For the last few days, I’d been playing along until I could figure something out.
I wore the dress Daddy said to wear. I let David kiss me on the cheek at the rehearsal dinner. Thank God he wasn’t ballsy enough to kiss me on the lips in front of Daddy.
And here it was my “wedding day.”
I was fluffed, blow dried, curled, and glossed. They had waxed stuff, plucked stuff, moisturized me, and deemed me picture perfect.
I was a perfectly groomed caged animal.
Daddy had a couple of members drag me into the church.
If I had a thought of running, Boone and Headlock were there to stop me.
“You are the ugliest bridesmaids I ever saw.” I mouthed off. I probably shouldn’t, but I couldn’t help it.
Headlock carried my bag a
nd didn’t respond to my dig. I’d stuffed my bag with shit that had nothing to do with being on a honeymoon. I hope he didn’t think to look inside.
“Just get in the fucking church.” Boone was cold. They were both there to intimidate me. But something about Boone did the trick. Headlock looked like a wild animal but Boone, he was a mass of muscle. He wore his hair and his beard long but not a hair on his head was out of place. He had his hair pulled tight, and his mouth pulled tighter.
“Is that any way to talk to a bride?” I said, but I moved it along. I wasn’t sure if Boone or Headlock would hurt me. I supposed they would hurt me, but just not so you could see the bruises.
Had to have those wedding pictures you know.
We were nowhere near Southwood, Daddy’s territory. I knew that much. But I had no idea what town we were in.
Daddy wanted it to be picture perfect. He also wanted it to be in a place that was totally unfamiliar to me so the remotest chance of me having a friend or a lifeline was extinguished. My bridesmaids were Devil’s Hawks for God’s sake he wasn’t about to risk me having a girlfriend or an old teacher help me out of pity.
I knew we were an almost a two-hour drive away from Southwood. But I didn’t know where the hell this church was. Daddy had also seen to it that the limo had tinted windows. Just another way to keep control over me. To keep me off balance. Were we still in Michigan?
I wondered who would marry David Wexler and me. What did this church owe the club? Or did Daddy give them a generous donation to ignore the fact that unholy matrimony was about to go down?
The limo stopped, and I looked up. We had arrived. It was a pretty church, I had to admit, and it was in the country.
With each step up into the building, the urge to scream became stronger. I wanted to stamp my foot or claw at the lace of my dress, anything to release the frustration of being trapped.
Because trapped I was. Daddy hadn’t left me alone for one moment since he’d set me down this path. I’d been with him, or Uncle Cheech, and now Boone and Headlock. They were there to babysit me. No question about it. Whatever freedom I had in the last four years at college was ripped away. If I really ever had it at all. I was a prisoner to Daddy’s orders. To the needs of the Devil's Hawks.
Nothing had changed. Daddy was in charge, and everyone around him did what he said. That included me above all. I was the good girl daughter of a bad man. And I did what I was told.
“They’re here to keep you safe. We’re having trouble with Great Wolves.” That was Daddy’s excuse for keeping me under lock and key.
Daddy had isolated me since I’d gotten back from college. He knew he was going to do this. He’d planned it perfectly.
Other than my initial session of begging to get out of it, I was a mostly passive and compliant daughter. It was my only play. I needed to make Daddy think I was okay and had agreed.
It worked well enough. Because now, moments before I was supposed to walk down the aisle Boone and Headlock handed me off to Ross.
The fact that only one person stood between my escape was the best opening I would have.
“Ross?”
“Yeah, that’s my name for now.”
“Ah, well nice to know you Ross, before you become Hammer or Knuckles or whatever tough guy name they give you.”
The club gave you a nickname once you were patched in, but now they called him "Probie".
Ross was skinny, he was smaller than Boone and Headlock by at least 20 pounds, and now he was stuck with the job of standing outside the powder room of a church.
“Well, I hope it’s not Knuckles. I would always forget the K.” I laughed for the first time in a while.
“Well, Ross, I’m sorry you got stuck with handmaiden to the bride duties.”
“It’s okay Jules. Protecting you is an honor.” He was so out of place, with his leather, and scruff, in a church, and as a bridesmaid, it would have been funny if I even had one ounce of humor about the situation.
“Honor? Okay, well whatever.” I wondered how old Ross was. What was his story? Why did he think getting into a motorcycle gang was a good idea? But I didn’t have time to find out. I had to worry about my story. That meant getting away from this probie for a few minutes.
“I’m going to go in here and fix up, so give me a minute. I’ve got to deal with a lot.”
I pointed to my dress, veil, and flowers. I was full on Bride Princess. Daddy imagined what a six-year-old girl would want for a wedding dress and arranged for it. It would have been sweet except that I was grown, educated, and had decided that I didn’t want a life with Detective David Wexler.
I didn’t want to be Daddy’s payment to a dirty cop.
I didn’t know all the things the Devil’s Hawks did, but I did know that what he did with his club was dangerous, illegal, and required someone inside law enforcement to look the other way.
That was David. My mission was to keep David happy. For Daddy’s club. It made me sick to think I was expected to give up my body at the whim of the Devil’s Hawks.
That was the idea. Well, that was Daddy’s idea.
I had other ideas.
Ross let me close the door to the powder room of the church. Headlock had let me carry my own bag when we’d gotten into the church. And he hadn’t snooped. That was good because inside my one bag I’d jammed my wallet, a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, some shorts, my Chuck Taylor’s and some toiletries. I’d also packed away some of my designs and artwork from my senior project, maybe I could sell them?
There was also a sexy negligee from David that he wanted me to wear tonight. Barf. I was afraid to leave it behind at my house though for fear of giving myself away.
Most important I had my graduation cash. That was something. That would be my lifeline.
I wished I had more time. I wished I could pack a Ford Mustang in there too. No such luck, though. As it was, my bag was stuffed, and my mind was set.
There was a soft knock at the bathroom door.
“Miss Jules, you have about five minutes. The pastor guy said you have to come out.”
“You try peeing in this dress! You wanna come in and hold it up for me Ross?”
“No, no. For sure no. I’ll let your Dad know you’re almost ready.”
“Good.”
Shit. I didn’t have time to change into my jeans. I didn’t really have time to think. It was move my ass or be married. I decided to move. The window to the powder room was high up so I couldn’t reach.
But there was a tall garbage can. I flipped it over and put my bag around my shoulder.
I hoisted myself up and balanced for a second on the window.
It was about a six feet drop. Six feet is a lot. I decided to arm hang my way out. That would make it less than a foot.
I swung my legs out of the church window, and then I squirmed over so I was suspended half in and half out. I hesitated for a second.
My bag might weigh me down, but I wasn’t leaving that behind. My thoughts raced, and all the possible scenarios flipped through my head.
Daddy would be enraged by even the smallest show of disobedience. But marrying David Wexler? Worse going on a honeymoon with David Wexler? None of it computed. I couldn’t.
I had a lot of actual and emotional baggage to carry for someone who needed to haul ass. I was so scared.
When I dropped from this window, I would really be leaping into the unknown. I’d be crossing a threshold for sure.
I held tight to the window ledge for another second. My white pumps dangled. I felt the silk of my dress snag on the bricks of the church.
Oops. I was shredding the princess outfit more and more with each passing second.
Then I heaved myself out. I fell to the ground in a heap of white.
I didn’t stay on the ground long. I popped up, gathered the voluminous skirt of my fairy tale wedding dress in a chunk, and held it to one side.
Then I ran.
I ran as fast as my white stilettos could carry me.
Chapter Two
Ryder
I needed to just ride. I got on my bike and revved the engine. Sometimes it was the best way to clear my head. To think.
Or to not think.
I looked down at the patch on my leather.
I was an officer now for my club. It was pretty cool. Seemed like yesterday I’d just earned my Great Wolves Grand City cut and now I had the patch of an officer.
It was the auto body shop. That’s what did it.
I was getting to be pretty damned responsible.
Great Wolves, my M.C. ran MMA Gyms, Security Services, and now thanks to me, they were starting auto body shops. Pretty damn lucrative and it was my idea.
Sawyer, my Prez, had given me the honor of Sergeant at Arms because of it. And because there’d been some changes at the top.
Stone, my best friend, had moved from our charter to one down south and Hagan, the old VP had been shot in cold blood. Yeah, bullet holes had led to an opening at the table. Sad but true. No matter how legit you were, violence was a part of the patch.
The recent meeting at the table of the Wolf Den was fresh in my mind as I watched my treads grip the back roads.
“I’m going to be touring for the next month with our MMA fighters. I need this shit locked down. I need you all to be solid at this table. We’ve got a lot of moving parts.” Sawyer had said.
With Sawyer out of the picture for a few weeks, he knew it was important we were settled. Great Wolves were legit and above board, but that meant strong, stable dudes at the top so the members didn’t go off and instigate their own mayhem.
Sawyer was our Prez, and now Steele was our VP.
Ridge, who’d been in charge of me when I was a probie, was now Secretary. It was funny the way the young guys I’d come in with were now moving up. Becoming leaders.
I guess that was what happened if you were good enough to be a Great Wolf. It wasn’t for everybody. And that was what put the great in it.
Ridge was scary, loyal, and didn’t joke around too much. Although he fucked women as if it was his job his actual job was keeping us in line Stone and me were coming up.
Ridge did his job for the M.C. well and if the noises I heard from the ladies in the back room were any gauge he did the other well too. I liked Ridge’s life philosophy.
