Marco
The Bad Disciples MC #5
Savannah Rylan
Copyright © 2019 by Savannah Rylan
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Contents
1. Marco
2. Quinn
3. Marco
4. Quinn
5. Marco
6. Quinn
7. Marco
8. Quinn
9. Marco
10. Quinn
11. Marco
12. Quinn
13. Marco
14. Quinn
Epilogue
Sneak Peak at Hawk
More Books by Savannah Rylan
About the Author
One
Marco
Hunter had just come into the therapy room, and like always, Kylie had dropped everything and run straight to him. Now that I was standing without help and walking with a barely noticeable limp on my prosthetic leg; I stood aside and watched them with a smile on my face and a shake of my head. When were these two going to tire of each other?
They’d been together for the past six months, and I had never seen my best friend, Hunter, happier before.
They were kissing and hugging, and behaving like a couple of starry-eyed school kids. When Hunter’s hands traveled from her neck to her waist, I decided that it was time to call it quits.
“Enough you two, this is a place of healing!” I called out from the other end of the room, loud enough for them to part. Kylie held on to Hunter’s hand as they walked together towards me. They were an unlikely couple. Hunter was a tatted up scruffy looking guy who was a member of an MC. Kylie was petite and kind-hearted and most importantly, a physical therapist. My physical therapist!
“Marco’s progress is remarkable,” she said as they approached me. Hunter was looking me up and down like a proud parent. It was like he couldn’t even believe that I was standing upright these days. He had spent the better part of the last year pushing me around in a wheelchair.
“You sound like I should feel sorry for myself,” I remarked, and Kylie’s cheeks flushed, and Hunter laughed.
“We’re just proud of you, Marco,” Hunter replied, and I waved a hand in the air.
“Yeah yeah, be proud all you like, you still owe me one,” I said and walked, still limping just a little bit, towards my bag on the gym floor. Even though I had successfully learned to walk naturally on my prosthetic by now, Kylie still wanted to keep me under observation. So, once a week, I was back at the VA where she conducted a series of physical tests on me.
I tried explaining to Hunter that I could start riding my bike or at least driving myself now, but he insisted on dropping and picking me up every week. I figured it was just an excuse for him to see Kylie. They fucking lived together!
“I owe you for what?” Hunter asked, with his arm tightly wound around Kylie’s shoulder.
“You two would have never met, not in a million years, if I hadn’t fucking lost my leg in Iraq,” I said with a laugh. I’d gotten over it a long time ago. I’d served my country, and I lost a leg to an IAD. Shit happens. At least I was alive. I knew good men, who had lost much more than a leg. Besides now, I was practically as good as new!
“I’ll see you at home, babe,” Hunter said, catching up with me as I walked towards the door.
“See you next week, Kylie!” I called out to her.
“I’ll see you over the weekend first when you have dinner with us,” she replied, and I turned around to smile at her. Hunter was hosting a dinner in his apartment. I let out a small laugh. Before Kylie, I don’t even think Hunter would know what hosting a dinner was. Kylie had changed his life in more ways than she even knew. Kylie’s son, Carter, a three-year-old sweet kid, had changed Hunter too. He behaved like a man with responsibilities these days.
We walked together out of the VA building and towards his car.
“Man, you really have to let me start driving again. Kylie says it’s okay too,” I said when I opened the door. Hunter walked around and sat down in the driver’s seat.
“Give it a couple more months, man. I’m only here to help,” Hunter said and started the engine of his noisy muscle car.
“You’re babying me, is what you’re doing!” I exclaimed as we drove out of the VA parking lot. I wasn’t actually mad at him. Hunter was my best friend, he was the only one who was there to literally pick me off the floor when I needed it.
“Call it whatever you want. I’m driving you around for the next few months, no matter what Kylie says,” he said, and I stretched out my prosthetic leg under the dashboard. It was strange being able to walk again after I’d been confined to a wheelchair for over a year. It took some getting used to, but being able to walk around without someone else’s help, and not having to call Hunter when I was down on the bathroom floor—was a big relief.
“Okay, mommy, can we go get a drink? Or am I not allowed that for a few more months either?” I asked, and Hunter grinned before he swerved his car with a jolt.
“Okay, Rusty Pelican then. I have a few things to take care of anyway,” he said, and I nodded my head, happy that Hunter wasn’t putting up a fight about this.
The Rusty Pelican was where Hunter and the other members of his MC; The Bad Disciples, hung out. Hunter had started taking me there a few months ago, and I’d really gotten to know the guys. Once I started hanging out with them occasionally, I could understand what Hunter’s motivation was to be a loyal member of the club.
These were good guys, who lived life by a moral code of conduct. They followed orders and had each other’s back. They weren’t much different from the military, other than that they were on the wrong side of the law. But when had being on the right side of the law done me any good? I got my leg blown off because of it.
Hunter and I joked as we drove up to the bar. I was thirsty for a drink, and I looked forward to playing some pool with the guys. Something was exciting always happening at this place, and when I was around the MC members, once again, I felt like I belonged to a band of brothers.
Two
Quinn
The cab dropped me in front of my parents’ home, the home I had grown up in and I waited a few moments before I took the steps up to the porch. I’d been away for some time, probably too much time and when I was leaving Long Beach, I didn’t think that I would actually miss it. But I had, more than I could have ever imagined and I smiled now, that I was home again.
There was much to miss about this place, now that I thought about it. For starters, I could have my old room back again! My perfect little room, wallpapered in posters and unicorn colors that my dad had so patiently kept buying for me. I wouldn’t have to share my space with anyone else, at least not for the next few weeks; which was a special treat that I was looking forward to.
It was the same cute little house that mom had worked tirelessly to keep well maintained. The small square front yard was mowed, and the flowers were in bloom. I rejoiced at the thought of how happy mom probably was with them.
I looked over and saw that her car wasn’t in the driveway, and neither was dad’s bike. It struck me that they were probably not home.
I hadn’t thought of that when I flew up to Long Beach on a whim. I still hadn’t thought of calling them when I got into the cab. As a kid, home was where my parents were…or at least where mom was. Someone was always at home.
I hadn’t thought of the fact that now with me gone, there was a high chance that they weren’t at home all the time. Mom had her friends, and I knew sh
e liked to help out at the Rusty Pelican from time to time. That was the bar that my dad ran with his buddies.
I had grown up around those guys. Dad’s best friends, just like him, were bearded scruffy, tattooed men who rode noisy bikes and scared our neighbors with their rough exteriors. Dad had bought us a nice house, in a nice neighborhood and I knew it was because he wanted me to have a normal childhood.
He didn’t like to talk about his own childhood, but from the bits of information that I had gathered over the years, I knew that it had been rough. So, it was only natural that he wanted the best for me. But in our neighborhood of white picket fences and golden retrievers, dad’s noisy bike, his rowdy friends, and my mom’s tight clothes were never really welcome.
I had grown up being starkly aware that we were different from everyone else around us. I didn’t really care though. No matter what my parents’ social lives looked like, they were the best parents that a girl could have asked for.
My mom had instilled in me the importance of a good education, and I had worked hard for it. It’s what got me into UC San Diego on a full ride scholarship. It was my dad who had taught me to stand up for myself, and till this day, I was the kind of girl who never backed out of a fight.
I surprised everyone. My friends in Long Beach knew me as unpredictable, and when I moved to San Diego, none of my classmates or friends from college had expected me to be who I was. I was a petite mermaid haired blond with pretty blue eyes. I had my mom’s best features; a slim waist, endlessly long legs. I just didn’t look like a girl who could major in Computer Science! Not like I was supposed to look a certain way, but I went to classes where everyone naturally dressed like geeks.
I aced my college exams, and I aced them in heels and short skirts. Not only that, but every time, at a college party; that some guy got too drunk and tried to feel me up, I wasn’t afraid to punch them right in the gut.
It was all my parents’ doing—it was how they had taught me to be.
I stood staring up at the house now, with my bags deposited on either side of me and a smile on my face. I hadn’t seen them since the previous Christmas, and they weren’t expecting me home. They were under the assumption that I was in San Diego, finishing up my graduate school finals and preparing to make the move to Silicon Valley where I was destined to be.
Instead, I was here, at their doorstep; tired of my busy life and in desperate need for a drink and a break. I had finished my finals early, and I even landed my dream job already, but my start-date wasn’t for another few weeks. I didn’t want to waste time in San Diego, I wasn’t sure when I would get an opportunity like this again.
I wanted to come back home, spend time with my parents and help out at the bar. It seemed like dad’s business was still going well. For a run-down dive-bar looking establishment, dad had somehow always managed to keep the cash flow coming in. I had always just assumed that he was an excellent businessman.
I turned around, leaving my bags tucked in behind the wicker chairs on the porch. I decided to surprise them at the Rusty Pelican instead. Even if mom or dad weren’t going to be there, some of their other friends would, and I was excited to see them all. I couldn’t wait to see their faces. They’d all be so surprised! I hadn’t seen the guys in ages, and I was sure that they would be amazed at how grown up I was now. If they even recognized me! I giggled at the thought of that as I climbed down the steps and walked up to the picket fence gate.
I walked my way to the Rusty Pelican with butterflies in my stomach. I was already beginning to feel like I was home.
Three
Marco
I was talking to Gunner at the bar. Some of the other guys, including Hunter, had started playing pool some distance away. The scene in Rusty Pelican was the usual. It was smokey from cigarettes, the music was loud, the drinks were free-flowing. From the outside, the place would have looked like a rowdy drinking hole full of gruff looking men and skimpily clad women, to me, just like the other guys, this place was like home. And I didn’t even officially belong here!
“Man, I miss it sometimes,” Gunner was saying. We both had a military past, and we liked to reminisce about it, every time we had the chance.
“I don’t get a chance to miss it. I have a reminder on a daily basis,” I said and looked down at my leg which he knew was a prosthetic. With my jeans on, of course, nobody could tell unless they really knew. Gunner squared his shoulders and breathed in deeply.
“But what do we have to show for it now, you know? Other than your leg getting blown off, what else did you get for serving your country?” Gunner continued and shook his head.
“I gave up being bitter about it, a long time ago. I did what I wanted to do, it was my choice, and most importantly, I knew what I was getting into. I didn’t join with a certificate of warranty that I was going to come out of it all in one piece,” I said and took a large gulp of my beer.
Gunner was watching me through narrowed eyes. I guessed he was trying to figure out if I was being honest with myself. I was. I had spent too much time already, feeling sorry for myself. It had been of no use to me. Now, I had decided to lead my life the best way that I could.
“You know, we should talk to Axel about you,” he said abruptly, while I bobbed my head lightly to the bass.
“Talk to Axel about what? Getting me kicked out of this place? Do I hang around here too much?” I said with a laugh. Gunner grinned and shook his head.
“The MC could use more guys like you,” he said, and I crossed my brows in surprise. Nobody yet had spoken about me joining the MC. I didn’t even know if I had anything left to offer them.
“I don’t know…” I began to say, but Gunner had interrupted me.
“With your military background, and the shipments coming in from the Fallen Idols; we could use your experience, man,” he said, and I could feel a lump form in my throat. I hadn’t considered this before, not seriously anyway. I knew I liked hanging around here, in the company of these men who were brothers to my best friend, but not once had I really thought about being a part of the club.
Tank had walked up to us, and he thumped Gunner on his back and shook my hand. While Gunner turned to talk to his friend about some business, it gave me a chance to think for a moment.
Did I really have it in me to get involved with these guys? To do their work?
I had my brows crossed, and the beer bottle at my lips, when the doors of the bar opened and in walked a girl who I couldn’t take my eyes off of. I lowered the bottle from my mouth in slow motion, as I followed her with my eyes.
She was looking around the bar like she was looking for someone and then she started weaving around the tables and towards me. I thought I imagined it, because why would a woman who looked like her, be in a place like this?
Long blond hair that grazed the sides of her arms. She had it neatly parted in the center, and tucked in behind her ears. Her hair shone like spun gold, smooth and silky. Her eyes were large and blue, the color of a clear summer sky.
She was in a short printed pink dress, with a fitted red leather jacket on top, to match the wine colored ankle boots she had on. Her legs were endlessly long, her waist was slender, just like her shoulders. She had the most delicious bow-shaped lips.
I realized I was staring when she caught my eye, and I looked away. She could be someone’s woman here, and I didn’t want to piss any of the guys off by checking out their old lady.
It was when she came over and sat down beside me at the bar, that I got a whiff of her feminine floral perfume. It made me giddy with desire. Or was it the alcohol?
Ever since I’d returned from Iraq, I had barely even looked at a woman. It seemed like I had no interested in fucking anymore. Big boobs did nothing for me, the lure of a wet pussy had nothing to offer. It had been all about my leg, all about getting better. That was all I had focused my energy on. The only woman in my life for the past year; had been my physical therapist and she was my best friend’s girlfriend and one of the
sweetest girls I knew.
So this woman sitting beside me, with her long legs crossed on the bar stool, her golden hair flipped over her shoulder, with earrings dangling in her hair—stumped me. I didn’t know why I had the reaction I was having. What was so different about her, other than her smashing body and suckable lips, that made my blood run hot in my veins?
There were hundreds of smoking hot women I’d bumped into and seen in the past year, why had this one, sitting beside me at the bar, suddenly woken me up?
Four
Quinn
I had walked into the Rusty Pelican with a big fat smile on my face, expecting to be greeted with open arms by people, or at least my father. What I found at the bar instead, was a place full of men whom I didn’t recognize.
I shouldn’t have been surprised though, I hadn’t been here in several years, perhaps last when I was a teenager. After I left Long Beach, my association with this place became even more estranged.
I had a pretty fair idea that all my dad’s friends were much older by now, and chances were that they didn’t hang around the bar that often anymore. Now when I walked in, I saw that the men here were younger, closer to my age, even though they were all wearing the same sort of leather jackets that my dad and his friends used to wear, with the same patch on their backs. I couldn’t see my dad around.
I weaved around the tables, looking to see if I could catch a familiar face. Nothing really had changed about the Rusty Pelican, it was still full of men with tattoos and beards and in leather jackets. There were still muscle cars and Harleys parked outside. My dad clearly entertained the same strain of crowd.
Marco Page 1
