Rock (Dead Souls MC Book 4)

by Savannah Rylan

  “Come on. I’ve got a surprise for you,” Rock said.

  “Where are we going?” I asked through my giggles. “I’ve got stuff I have to do.”

  “You can do it tomorrow,” he said. “Come on. Get behind me.”

  “What if I want to be in front?”

  “You know what happens when you sit on my lap, sweet girl,” he said.

  “What if that’s what I want?” I asked as I slipped into his lap.

  Rock revved his engine as he sped off down the road, forcing me to grip tightly onto him.

  “I’ve got a place for us to spend the weekend out in the desert. Just you, me, the stars, and this beautiful body of yours,” he said.

  “And when were you going to inform me that I would be gone for the weekend?” I asked.

  “I just did.”

  “Mommy?” Gavin asked.

  I gripped his hand and walked faster as the sounds of the motorcycles became deafening. I shuffled them into the house as the lights turned down our road, and I locked the front door before I peered out my window. Gavin watched with me with wide eyes and a jaw that dropped to the floor. I studied the men riding by as more memories assaulted my mind.

  Was it possible for English phrases to be a trait passed down to children?

  Or was Gavin really that much like his father?

  Chapter 5

  Rock

  “Knock, knock, bitch,” I said.

  “You really can’t come over to a person’s place and act normal, can you?” Brewer said as he opened Makenna’s front door.

  “When the fuck have you ever considered me normal?” I asked.

  I walked into Makenna’s home and began looking around.

  “I forced her out the door to work and Ana’s at school,” he said.

  “Good. Then we can talk about that fucking bomb you dropped on me at the hospital.”

  “And you don’t have to edit yourself on my account,” Brewer said with a grin.

  “Cut the bullshit,” I said. “How are you feeling?”

  “Good right now. Just took my pills.”

  “Yep. That’ll do it,” I said.

  “I’ve taken up permanent residency on the couch. Come on.”

  “You mean you and Makenna aren’t-?”

  “Not yet. She doesn't want to confuse Ana and I don’t blame her. Plus, I get a massive television to fall asleep to,” he said.

  “Versus lying next to a naked woman?” I asked. “You’ve always been the fucking weirdo of the two of us.”

  “Whatever. Come on. We need to talk.”

  I followed Brewer over to the couch, but it was more than just a couch. It was one of those fancy-ass pull-out beds that turned into a king-size fucking palace bed. There was no way in hell he was sleeping in that thing alone all the damn time and I wasn't about to crawl into bed with the man.

  So, I took up space in a chair in the corner while Brewer laid back down.

  “You good?” I asked.

  “Oh yeah. I need to get me one of these,” Brewer said.

  “You sound like an old man.”

  “I feel like one. This shoulder shit’s no joke.”

  “Trust me. Been shot twice. Not in the shoulder, but in the arms. Recuperation’s no damn joke. I’m glad she’s got you drugged and sleeping,” I said.

  “Boring as hell though,” he said.

  “Okay, so back to the hospital,” I said.

  “How did church go?”

  “You’re really going to put this off, aren’t you?” I asked.

  “Because I’m monitoring my heart, asshole. I don’t want to go back into cardiac arrest when I tell you I’m pretty sure the rat is someone in our crew.”

  “Didn’t we already fucking know that?”

  “I think it’s Mick.”

  I furrowed my brow as I leaned forward in the chair.

  “You think it’s who?” I asked.

  “Not only that, I think Mick was the one that tried to kill me in my own house,” Brewer said.

  “You can’t be fucking serious. That man just stood up for your ass in church.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah. He was your prime defender when Diesel still wanted to go through with the damn plan. It was a whole big old fight. Everyone’s taking some cool down time. But the gist of church was that the plan is scrapped and Mick kept fucking repeating how you getting shot up should be a warning to all of us.”

  “Because he did the fucking shooting up,” he said.

  “Why do you think the rat is Mick?”

  “You don’t believe me?”

  “I think you’re drugged and still worked up from being attacked in your own fucking home. Anyone would be. Walk me through what happened.”

  “You know those damn boots he always wears? Black with the fucking navy-blue laces?”

  “Drives me insane to look at,” I said.

  “Those same boots were in my house that day. The man was wearing a mask.”

  “So that’s why you kept asking about the man in the mask.”

  “Yeah. After I got out of the closet in my bedroom, I ran over and hunkered down behind my guest bed. I kept my eyes on the lookout by peering underneath the damn bed frame. And a pair of black boots with navy shoelaces came walking around the corner. The man had a fucking mask on, and when he shot at me he missed even though he was only fucking seven feet away from me. And you know Mick’s a shit shot.”

  “But that doesn’t mean it was Mick. What you’re saying is serious. He’s a brother, Brewer.”

  “Yeah. I know. Which was why it sent me into fucking cardiac arrest, Rock. He’s limping on his left leg. The same damn leg I shot up on that asshole before he managed to get out of my fucking house. Which I still don’t know how that happened.”

  “Mick could be limping for any reason.”

  “I shot that asshole in the left ankle and the left thigh. When Mick got up and left the hospital room before you came in, I caught a glimpse of his pant leg. He had a small dark splotch by his ankle and on his thigh. In the same places where I got him. Are you going to tell me all this shit’s coincidence?”

  “Even if it isn’t, he’s a fucking brother, Brewer. And we have to tread lightly with this. Especially once we take it to Diesel”

  “That asshole tried to kill me. I know it was Mick in my house that night. I’m not treading lightly on anything once I get my arm out of this damn sling,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “And until you do, let me handle it,” I said. “This has to be handled delicately. It has to be dealt with, but not with the anger in your fucking eyes, man.”

  Brewer drew in a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Fuck. I was still trying to wrap my mind around what he’d told me in the first damn place. Was it possible the rat was Mick? Did he have those kinds of balls on him? I didn’t think he did. What Brewer was suggesting took a cunning spirit and a serious amount of planning and sneaking around. Mick was a pussy, though he had his moments. He was the clean-up guy. The numbers guy. The behind-the-scenes guy.

  He didn’t barge into people’s homes with a want to shoot and fucking kill.

  Did he?

  “Brewer? You good?” I asked.

  I watched his eyes flutter closed as he laid down onto the bed.

  “Brewer. You’re not spinning out on me, are you?” I asked.

  “Tired,” he said with a grunt.

  I got up and placed my fingers to his carotid just to fucking make sure he didn’t need another damn ambulance. But when I found his heartbeat steady, a grin crossed my face.

  “Then sleep, asshole. I’ll be back later to check on you.”

  “Uh huh,” he said.

  And the man was snoring before I locked the knob of the front door and closed it behind me.

  I looked over at Brewer’s house and my blood began to pump faster. If Mick was the rat, then he had cleaned up whatever evidence of him had been in his home. Because Mick was our clean-up guy. Our go-to
when shit needed to be fixed or bodies needed to be disposed of. Mick had a lot of shit on us to dump to people. He might not be pulling the damn trigger or formulating the plans, but he cleaned up our trails so no one could get anything back to us.

  Which meant he’d cleaned up his shit while cleaning up Brewer’s house.

  Fuck.

  I struck up my bike and rode off. I needed to blow off some damn steam. I revved the engine of my motorcycle and sped through town, taking back roads through the place I knew weren’t heavily policed. Long, fast rides always calmed me down if the bars weren’t open yet. And with it being only four in the afternoon, there was no way in hell any of the bars I frequented were even thinking about opening. I raced down the roads, throttling it at ninety miles an hour. Wind whipped through my hair and dust kicked up, settling the trembling frustration in my muscles.

  Brewer was convinced Mick was our rat.

  And I didn’t have any reason not to believe him.

  I whipped my bike around in the middle of the road and started back to my place. My dingy old apartment that pumped more electricity through it than the city power pump some fucking days. Cheap rent, very few windows, and just enough space for all my computer shit. I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath, feeling the rolling of the tires underneath my body. My bike was an extension of myself. Worn. Used. But still rode like a dream. Rough and ragged and not always appealing to the eye, but could beat the shit out of any other bike on the fucking road.

  I’d fix that damn thing up until Hell itself swallowed me whole.

  I opened my eyes and saw a car coming straight for me. My eyes bulged as I swerved out of the way, trying to avoid an oncoming collision. But I could’ve sworn that damn car followed me all the way to the edge of the fucking road. My tires began to wobble and I lost control of my steering. I laid on my horn as the car squealed its tires, finding its way back onto the road as my front tire hit a damn ditch.

  It tossed me over the handlebars and sent my back careening into the inner edge of the ditch.

  And then, darkness took me under.

  Chapter 6

  Piper

  “What was that noise?” I asked myself.

  “Mommy, look!”

  “What is it, Gavin?” I asked from the kitchen.

  “There’s a bike on the sidewalk!”

  I wiped my hands off onto a dish towel and slung it over my shoulder. Gavin wanted a bedtime snack before bed, and I couldn’t blame him. The walk alone plunged me into hunger, and he had been rolling around with Beau in the dog park as well. I walked over to the window he was looking out of and peered across the road. My childhood home sat on a mostly deserted road, with nothing but forestry and a ditch lining the other side. I squinted my eyes and tried to take a good hard look at what my son was talking about, but it wasn’t until a car slowly crept down the road that I saw it.

  An overturned bike across the street from our house.

  “Gavin, go sit at the kitchen table. I’ve got your snack ready,” I said.

  “Can I have the bike?” he asked.

  “No, honey. Now go eat. We have to get you cleaned up for bed,” I said. “And take Beau with you.”

  “Come on, Beau,” he said.

  “But don’t feed him!”

  “Aww, but he’s hungry,” Gavin said.

  “That’s why Beau has his own food bowl. You stay at that kitchen table, all right?”

  “Okay.”

  I pulled the dishrag off my shoulder and set it down next to the door. Then I stepped onto my porch and started across the road. I hoped it was only an abandoned bike. But the doctor in me knew better. I’d heard a commotion from the kitchen. Something that sounded like a trash can turning over or a tree falling in the distance. And after the throng of motorcycles that came cruising through, my worst fear was that someone was overturned into the ditch.

  “Hello?” I asked as I approached the bike. “Is anyone down there?”

  The handlebars were pretty dinged up and the outer characteristics of the bike were dented and scratched. I pulled out my phone and turned on its flashlight so I could get a better look. The doctor in me was screaming. I just knew someone was in that ditch. But I couldn't hear a sound and I couldn't see anything as I swiped my phone’s light left to right.

  “Hello?” I called out again. “Anyone down there?”

  Then, my phone swiped across a body.

  A body with a very recognizable face.

  “Holy fuck,” I said.

  I scrambled into the ditch as I tucked my phone into my shirt. The light shone in front of me as I knelt down, my hands trembling as I took him in. Dirty blonde hair. Strong, chiseled features. His six-foot-four body was something I’d never be able to forget. I placed my hand underneath his nose and felt him breathing, then I felt for his pulse before my hands wrapped around his neck.

  “Rock,” I said with a whisper. “What the hell have you done?”

  “Mom!?”

  “Gavin?” I asked.

  “Where are you?”

  “Get back in the house, Gavin!” I yelled.

  “But Mom-”

  “NOW!”

  I heard my front door slam as I drew in a deep breath. My fingers started pressing into Rock’s neck to check if he had any sort of neck injury. I wrapped myself around him and felt up the divots of his back, trying to see if he had broken anything before I had a chance to move him. And I ignored the blatant reaction my body was having to his. Trembling hands. A cold sweat. Electricity surging through my veins. I felt my hands get clammy for the first time in years, which only made me grow more frustrated.

  “Of course, it had to be you,” I said to myself.

  After fully satisfying myself and relenting to the fact that Rock didn’t seem to be seriously injured, I rolled him over onto his back. I had no idea how the hell I was going to hoist this massive man out of the ditch, but I had to try. I bent down and wrapped his arm around me, then pushed with all my might to get him upright from the ground.

  Then, a groan trickled down my neck.

  “Rock?” I asked.

  “Fuck,” he said.

  His voice rumbled over my body and I felt my knees grow weak.

  “Rock, I need you to help me, okay?” I asked.

  “Huh?”

  “You’re in a ditch. I need you to stay awake long enough for me to get you out,” I said.

  “Uh… huh.”

  I looked over at him and watched his eyes slowly peel open. Those steely gray eyes that reminded me of a thick and rolling thunderstorm glanced back at me before his brows stitched together. The eyes of my son staring back at me in the form of a man I’d never really let go. Of course, he was the one to crash his motorcycle. I hadn’t recognized it. His bike looked very different from when I rode on its back five years ago. He looked at me for the longest time as the world seemed to stop turning, then his head dropped back to my shoulder and his body went limp.

  “No, no, no, no, no! Rock. Come on. I need your help.”

  I took a step forward and felt him stumble with all the remaining energy he had left.

  After walking up the embankment and getting to the corner of the road, he passed out again. I heaved him over my back and locked my arms with his, then bent over and waddled across the road. Fuck. This man was a beast. And the only thing moving me across the road with any sort of strength was the adrenaline running through my veins. I saw my son standing at the window by the door with his jaw dropped open, and I paused in the driveway to take it all in.

  This was the first time Gavin was seeing his father.

  None of this could have come at a worse time.

  Chapter 7

  Rock

  “Fucking hell,” I said with a groan.

  My head ached and my body felt as if it had been run over by a fucking truck. I opened my eyes and watched my vision shake with the pounding in my head. I stared up at a smooth white ceiling as my body sank into something soft. Comfor
table. Warm. I heard a dog barking off in the distance as I sat up, ignoring the searing pain in my head so I could look around.

  Where the hell was I?

  “Don’t move too much.”

  I froze at the sound of her voice.

  “I don’t think you have a concussion, but you’re still pretty banged up.”

  Piper.

  I’d know that voice anywhere.

  I panned my gaze over to the wall and a chair sitting not six feet away from me. And in that chair sat the most beautiful woman I’d never been able to rid from my dreams. With her curves splayed out along the chair and her thick thighs clad in nothing but a damn nightgown, she was a vision I’d hung onto for years in my mind. Her long blonde hair poured down her shoulders in curls that made me want to fist them and bring her lips to mine. They fell directly over her nipples as her nightgown dipped low into her decadent, voluptuous cleavage. Her dark green eyes held mine as my eyes danced along her body.

  Taking in all the new tattoos she had.

  “Piper,” I said.

  “Hello, Rock.”

  “Am I dreaming? Oh shit, am I dead?”

  “No on both accounts,” she said.

  I sat up on the couch and slung my aching legs around. I blinked a few times to get my vision to stop shaking before I leaned back into the cushions of the couch. My body felt heavy. Bruised. Battered.

  “I never thought I’d see you again,” I said as I closed my eyes.

  “That makes two of us,” Piper said.

  “What happened?”

  “You crashed your bike across the road from my house,” she said plainly. “You were face down in a ditch.”

  “Then how the hell did you get me into this house?”

  “You became coherent enough to stumble once I hoisted you to your feet. But the second we got to the edge of the road you passed out again on my back.”

  “I don’t remember any of that shit.”

  “I don’t expect you to for a little while. If it doesn’t come back, though, I’d feel better if you went to the hospital to get your head checked out,” she said.