Bound by Ravage

by Ryan Michele

  “Talk,” Pops says, coming up to my side as I toss the asshole to the ground. Rhys blocks him from going anywhere, making me regret how we aren’t on our home turf.

  “Asshole was putting his hands on the girls. Wouldn’t leave ’em alone.”

  “And this is our business why?” he asks, looking down at the two girls who are sitting on a small bench. Bristyl has her arms around her friend, holding her as she cries. Bristyl doesn’t cry, though. No, she has fire burning in her eyes. Anger. Revenge. Damn, that gets me hard.

  “Know her. She helped us out at the laundromat.”

  “And still, Coop, this has nothing to do with us. Bringin’ shit to our door that doesn’t need to be.”

  I look to my grandfather, my president, staring into his eyes, not sure what I’m trying to tell him, but his eyes flash in some type of recognition.

  “Son of a motherfucker. Alright,” he says, lifting his hand and spinning his finger. “Can’t do much, too many eyes. Just make sure they get the fuck out of here. I’ll talk to their prez.”

  This is Ravage. I may not have fallen in line according to our lifestyle, but the club takes my back whether I’m right or wrong.

  Buzz, Breaker, Tug, Becs, and GT “help” the guys out as I move over to Bristyl, who hasn’t taken her eyes off the dickheads as they leave.

  “Green.” I nod over to the girl. He’s always been good with emotional women.

  He makes his move over to them, and Bristyl turns her angry gaze on him. I want to laugh because she looks like she’s about to pounce on Green, and that shit would be funny. Not that he couldn’t hold his own, but it’d still be funny for her to try.

  I move up. “Bristyl, come here so I can find out what happened.”

  She surveys the situation, but doesn’t leave her friend’s side. Gotta respect her loyalty.

  “Promise nothin’s gonna happen to her,” Pops says, coming closer.

  Her eyes dart to him, then down to his rag. She’s no doubt seeing the word “President,” but it’s a toss-up on which way she’ll go.

  “I’m Pops. Cooper’s grandpa and the president of Ravage MC. I get you’re scared, but we need to talk to ya for a bit.”

  Her eyes get sharp and narrow into slits. “I’m not scared. I’m pissed as hell.”

  “Obviously, she’s breathin’ fire,” Dagger says.

  “You hit on me earlier,” she responds.

  “I did? Fuck, my ol’ lady’s gonna cut my dick off.”

  Her face softens just a touch. “You said that earlier, too.”

  “We’re not here to hurt you, but I need to know what shit we’ve gotten ourselves into, Bristyl,” I tell her, hoping she can put the claws away just for a few minutes. Hell, I like that she has them. I like that she doesn’t put up with the bullshit, and that she fucking bit the guy to get her friend loose. She was damn ready to take the backhand if it meant her friend was out of that asshole’s grasp. She definitely has loyalty.

  “Leah, I need to talk to these guys. Breathe. Everything’s gonna be fine. I’ll deal with this, and then we’ll get the fuck out of here,” she consoles her friend, unlatching herself from the woman’s grasp. Then she walks over to me as Green slips in. I have no doubt he’ll have her friend laughing in a matter of minutes.

  I scan her body, noting the large red mark on her thigh. No man puts his hands on a woman like that. Respect goes two ways. You don’t respect a woman, then she won’t respect you. It could be for a night or longer, but it’s a two-way street, and both of you need to be on board for it to work. Here, that didn’t happen.

  She crosses her arms, pushing her pert breasts up, which doesn’t help my already hard cock.

  “Hi,” she says softly in that purr.

  “Hey, wanna tell me what happened?”

  Her eyes dart around like she’s looking for someone, then comes back to me. “Leah met Nick on this dating website. She set it up to meet him here. The little tart actually sprang it on me on the way here. I told her it was a shit idea, but she had already told him we were going to be here. Nick came up to her, and I could tell they were assholes right away. The guy next to me, Poe, only said a couple of words to me before his hand was on my thigh. I got pissed and jumped away when his grip tightened. Nick grabbed Leah’s arm when I tried to pull her with me, and then you showed up.”

  “And you bit the fucker’s arm.”

  “I’m lucky I didn’t draw blood. Can you imagine having that asshole’s taste on my tongue?” Her body full-out shivers. “I’m sorry you got involved, but thank you for your help.”

  Laughter comes from the small bench, and Bristyl whips around. Green’s done his job. Her friend is laughing at something he said and warming up to him.

  Him and his ways. He may have been green, but he’s always had a way with women.

  I turn back toward Bristyl. “You do realize you’re at a biker rally, right?”

  “I’m here to see a band.” She turns toward Pops. “Look, I’m sorry. We’re going to get out of here.”

  “Green and Coop will walk you to your car,” Pops decrees. I couldn’t have said it better myself.

  While teaching those assholes a lesson is ideal, the view of Bristyl is a thousand times better. I got in a few good shots if my bloody knuckles are anything to go by. That will have to do … for now.

  Green wraps his arm around Leah, and she goes willingly, no longer the scared mouse from moments ago. She’s attractive, don’t get me wrong, but the blonde beside me has her beat by a mile.

  Bristyl walks next to me, her hands in the back pockets of her shorts, her eyes scanning the place.

  “My brothers got them out,” I reassure her as she looks up at me with those startling blue eyes, round and sucking me in like a cyclone.

  “I know.”

  “Then why’re you so jumpy?”

  “Just on guard.” She shrugs it off, but I can feel it’s something. And for some reason, I let her get away with it.

  She takes a few steps in front of me. Her round ass has the perfect sway as she walks. I notice men and women alike looking at her. She has this striking quality that I don’t think she sees in herself by the easy way she acts.

  Getting through the crowds, Bristyl leads me down a hill, and then farther away from the rally. “You ladies walked this far?”

  “Yeah, parking was a bitch.”

  “And you were going to walk this far, in the dark, by yourself?”

  She seems like a really smart woman, yet that just screams “kill me.”

  “It doesn’t matter now because we have you.” When she looks up at me and smiles, the air leaves my lungs. Having that much power directed right at me is a shot to the heart. Not once in my life has this happened. Not once has a woman grabbed my attention so completely. Never once have I realized that a woman is way too good for a man like me. She’s too good and doesn’t need to get mixed up in the biker lifestyle. Even seeing her go after the guy and biting him, and having spunk, she can do so much better. Even for one night. Even for a quickie in the back of her car. Hell, even for a lifetime of those smiles.

  Bristyl deserves better than me.

  “Here we are.” She pulls out her keys and bleeps the locks, making the interior of the car come to life.

  Green walks Leah to the passenger side while I walk Bristyl to the driver’s.

  As she turns and looks up at me, her eyes swirl. “Thank you for everything.”

  One taste. I want one taste. Is she as sweet as she looks, or is the sin tart to the tongue?

  She brings her hands up to my chest, the heat from them sending a shock all the way down to my toes. Then she licks her bottom lip before placing it between her teeth. She wants to kiss me, too, and is giving me the go-ahead.

  With the willpower of every fucking superhero ever created, I pull her into my arms, resting her head on my chest. I inhale the scent of some type of flower, burning it to memory. If I kiss her, if I taste her, I won’t be able to stop mysel
f. That’s not weakness, it’s reality.

  Giving her another squeeze and using every bit of restraint within myself, I step back out of her grasp, and she looks up at me in confusion.

  “You take care of yourself, Bristyl. Don’t get messed up in this world. You’re too good.”

  She goes to say something, but I raise my hand.

  “Be safe.” I turn and walk away, up the hill and to my brothers who have gotten rid of the problem.

  “You mean to tell me that we took on this shit and you’re not even gonna claim her?” my father roars as we’re about to enter the hotel later that night.

  I’d already told him what happened and how I played it. Not only is he my father, but my brother as well, and I owe him the truth on both counts.

  After Bristyl drove away, I felt a small place inside me turn cold. Even all the pussy in the world couldn’t make it warm, so I decided to go to bed.

  “It’s better this way.” I slip the card into the door and open it, my father right on my heels.

  “Stay,” he orders Green, who came back with me. Then my father shuts the door and turns the deadbolt.

  I toss my keys, wallet, and some junk from my pockets onto the small, round table by the window. Every hotel I’ve ever been in has the same damn things—bed, TV, dresser, chair, and a stupid little table in front of the window.

  “Why the fuck are you saying that?”

  This isn’t the first time my father’s been angry with me, and it won’t be the last. His lifetime quota has yet to be met. I can’t blame him, either. Although a member, he will always be my father. The choices I make are a reflection of him whether I want them to or not. It’s how the world works.

  I fall into the chair and it creaks from my weight. “Dad, look, she lives here in Florida—”

  “And?”

  “I’m not gonna have her hop on the back of my bike and take her to Sumner when she has no fuckin’ clue what she’s gettin’ herself into.”

  “How do you know that? She was at the rally, son.” He sits in the chair across from me.

  I shrug. “Somethin’ about her screamed innocent in a way. Or, not tainted from the life. She needs to stay far away from us bikers. I mean, hell, she works at a laundromat for Christ’s sake. That screams clean.”

  He sits back in the chair and crosses his arms over his wide chest. His caramel colored hair is getting darker and shows a few gray hairs, but I’m blaming those on my brother and sister. When I was younger, I thought he could move mountains, was the coolest person in the entire world, and wanted to be him when I grew up. Now I am. I’m not the coolest person, but like him—strong, determined, and smart.

  He swipes his hand over the scruff of his beard and down his face. “So, what, you’re gonna go home and drown yourself in pussy and booze?”

  “If I want to.” Booze doesn’t sound half-bad at the moment.

  “When I met your mother, I held a gun to her head.”

  “I know this.”

  “But what you don’t know is that I claimed her the moment our eyes locked. Come hell or high water, that woman was going to be mine. I didn’t give her a choice. Of course, she could have beat the hell out of me, or at least tried.” He chuckles. “The point is, when you know, you know. But you’re young and have your whole life ahead of you. You sure as shit don’t need to be settling down anytime soon.” My father latches his fingers and places his hands behind his head as I take in his words.

  I have no plans of settling down. It was just a feeling I had when she was near me. It doesn’t mean shit.

  “I’m not.”

  “But, you find the one that makes your life whole, better not fuck that up. That’ll be your biggest regret. Young or not, I taught you to think about everything—every angle.” I let his words penetrate deeply. “Enough of this heart to heart shit. Get some shut eye. We’re leavin’ at eight.”

  “Got it.”

  My father rises from the chair, stretches, then heads to the door. “And, son?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Life will lead you where you need to be, or you need to man up and lead it where you want it to go.” He turns toward the door and walks out, his message remaining in my thoughts.

  9

  Bristyl

  Stomping out of my office, my temper is on fire, and Stone is my target. The mechanic shop is fully stocked with everything one would need, and it’s the top place my brother will be. I’ve had enough of his shit. Hell, I’ve had enough with a lot of things; he’s just on top of the list. Lucky him.

  “Stone!” My voice is loud, garnering the attention of pretty much everyone in the place, including my father, but that doesn’t stop me.

  “What?” he barks back, wiping his hands off on a greasy towel. The classic Plymouth Barracuda is looking nice, but I’m not telling him that. He’s been restoring it for ages, working on it whenever he has down time.

  “I fucking told you to give. Me. The. Receipts! I’m missing twelve! Twelve, Stone! I’ve had it. I keep asking and keep asking, and do you do what I ask? No! You completely ignore me to the point that, right now, I have to go to the bank and straighten the books out, because they don’t want to do that many over the phone!”

  I’m fully aware I’m losing my shit, but there’s been a lot on my mind the past couple of weeks. The main one: a man who shouldn’t be in my head, but won’t go away and leave me alone. Instead, he invades my dreams. He’s always there. When I close my eyes, when I take a shower—hell, when I drive to work! I’m losing my mind. It has to be the case, because this shit isn’t right.

  Add in Leah calling me four, five, six times a day, apologizing for what happened, even though I told her it’s all over now. She’s disconnected her online dating thingy and even changed her phone number to make sure Nick can’t find her. Thank God she didn’t give him her address and faked a last name. At least she was thinking there. The I’m sorry’s are getting old. Like, way old.

  Then this damn bruise on my leg. I didn’t think it was that bad, but the asshole really grabbed me hard, leaving his handprint that turned a greenish purple. Wearing jeans for a week to cover it in this warm weather hasn’t made me happy, either, but no way will my father or brothers find out. It’s over and in the past.

  Mr. Draker finished what he said he would, but he didn’t put in enough shutoffs, so now he has to go in and redo it. I mean, how fucking hard is it? Six machines, twelve shutoffs. Six hot, six cold. Done. If I knew how to solder a pipe, my ass would be over there fixing it myself.

  Everything is just piling on top of each other, and these receipts have put me over the edge. It feels like I can’t catch my breath.

  “Calm down, Bristyl,” Stone snaps, pissing me off more.

  “Do you want to go to the bank and sit with that mean teller who has the personality skills of a gnat? Want to sit across from him and go line by line on the credit statement? Because if you do, I’ll be more than happy to let you,” I fire back.

  “I have the receipts, just calm your shit.”

  “All of them?”

  “Yes. What’s crawled up your ass lately? The past week or two, you’ve been a royal bitch.”

  My skin prickles. I can feel the top on the kettle about to blow, allowing the steam to rupture.

  Several guys around Stone’s car stop to stare at us, but I’m too pissed off to give a shit. The fucks have all gone.

  “You …” I take a step closer to Stone, getting in his face.

  A steel-banded arm wraps around my waist, and I turn to see my father who picks me up.

  “Kiss my ass!” I scream as my father shuts the door to my office with a loud crash after pushing me inside, my hair flying this way and that.

  “What is your problem? You don’t act like this, Bristyl!” he fires at me, and it feels like a physical slap. My father, the big brute he is, rarely raises his voice. And more rarely raises his voice to me. He’s calm most of the time, but in this moment, he’s anything but.r />
  “I’m just frustrated.” I rip my fingers through my hair and pull a chuck of it hard, leaving them to rest on top of my head. “I can’t do my job when they don’t do what they’re supposed to do. I’ve had it!”

  “You quitin’?”

  Startled by his words, I suck in a huge breath then let it out slowly. The anger fades, and my temper cools a touch.

  “No, Dad. All I want is the receipts so I can do what I have to do. I hate going down to the bank because it makes me look incompetent at my job. Then it makes the club look bad because your name is on all the paperwork.”

  He falls into the chair.

  Taking a closer look at him, there are circles under his eyes that seemed to have taken up residence since he and my brothers returned from their run before the rally. The wrinkle on his forehead has deepened a bit and the lines around his mouth.

  “You’ll have all the paperwork you need. On each Friday, I’ll have the boys bring you your shit. That solve it?”

  Leaning against the wall, I plop my head back on the concrete block, letting every bit of anger release from my body. In its place, a twinge of worry forms. “Yeah, thanks.”

  “Gotta chat.”

  That catches my attention.

  I move to my chair, take a seat, and fold my hands in front of me. Whatever this is, maybe it has to do with the change in my father. It piques my curiosity, yet terrifies me.

  “That shit out there in the garage will never happen again. You think doing that shit in front of anyone is okay? You’re damn lucky those are brothers out there and not paying people, or your ass would be in a shitload deeper. You’re not a member of this club. You’re not an ol’ lady. You’re an employee, and you need to learn your place. I’ve been really lenient on you, but after that little tantrum out there, you need to realize where you stand. Gotta toe the fuckin’ line, Bristyl. Keep your shit in check.”

  I’m pretty sure, if my father took a knife and shoved it in my chest, twisting it around, it would have hurt less. My entire life has been about the Sinister Sons. When my mom was alive, she let me tag along with her, all the while I only wanted to be a part of this family. My brothers were engrossed in it. My dad let them come to the club all the time with him, but said I couldn’t.