Ryder was perfect. They’d both been through hell and they’d survived. They’d lived to see the other side. They’d created their own second chance, and she was going to live it.
For him. For herself. For everything they still had ahead of them. Even if it wasn’t perfect, it was theirs and he was hers and they were a family. They were on the precipice of a brand new life.
Laura closed her eyes, gave herself up to Ryder’s heartfelt kiss and was more than ready to embrace a new fresh start.
The End
SHAWN
LONELY RIDER MC 7
Chapter 1
SHAWN
Brick was the kind of guy anyone with an ounce of sense didn’t fuck around with. Not just because he was built like a brick shithouse, which he was, but because he’d earned his name from being a few bricks short of a load. The guy wasn’t stupid. He was just missing a few of the essential building blocks of life. Mercy. Pity. Anger management. Those kind of essential bricks.
The guy was basically a living breathing sociopath. He had no qualms about pulling the trigger. He greeted the opportunity like a kid greeted Christmas morning. Every. Single. Time.
So when Brick dragged a blooded battered body into the clubhouse and threw the near lifeless, moaning, groaning mess down near the couch, it wasn’t likely that the guy would live to see tomorrow. It was impossible to tell how old he was based on his face, since his features were so swollen and battered he was virtually ageless. From the square shoulders and larger build, the taut skin over bulging biceps, the guy was young. Young and dumb, because no one crossed Brick if they had half a brain.
Guys started filling into the room from other parts of the clubhouse once rumor got around that they had a live one. He likely wouldn’t be live for long. Shawn Rydell took it as his cue to blend the fuck into the surroundings. As a prospect and not a patched in member, being invisible was the perfect place to be.
“What he do?” Big John, who was big and who was really actually named John, asked as he waddled into the room. The guy wasn’t rotund by any means, but he had a funny gait. Like someone had shoved a stick up his ass at birth and it grew there right along with him.
“Yeah, what the hell did that poor bastard do to you, Brick?” Digger asked. The guy’s name was pretty self-explanatory. He dug them down and he dug them deep so that they’d never see the light of day again. The saying, snitches end up in ditches, wasn’t true when it came to Digger. More like, those who say, never again see the light of day. Or those who let the club down, end up in the ground.
A red puddle was slowly spreading on the ground beneath the sorry looking bastard, likely leaking from the guy’s busted nose or maybe from his mouth. Good thing the floor was concrete and easily hosed down.
“Stole money from me,” Brick grunted. “Owes me.”
“So he’s a dealer,” Draydon said as he stalked into the room. He was the most average looking guy, but probably one of the deadliest of the bunch. In his early twenties, blonde and blue eyed, he’d spent most of his life in juvie and behind bars. He said getting apprehended the first time was the best thing that ever happened to him. The bastard stole a car at nine because he was hungry and cold and had a mother who liked to stick needles into her arms more than she liked to care for her kid. After that, he really learned how to survive. The guys in juvie taught him a thing or two which turned him into an even better criminal. He was finally out of jail and loved rolling with the club.
“He’s a dealer,” Brick confirmed. “And he decided to skim ten grand of coke for himself. Fucker put it straight up his nose.”
“Doubt it,” Big John said as he walked over and nudged the unconscious piece of shit with the toe of his boot. “The guy’s too fit to be snorting that shit himself. He sold it to someone else and kept the cash for himself.”
“Same shit,” Brick argued. He spat a huge wad of spittle right on top of the bleeding man’s battered face. God, it didn’t even really resemble a face. It looked more like a horrible thing. Like a sick prop for an even sicker fucking movie.
“Same shit,” Big John agreed.
“Just waiting for the boss to get here,” Brick said. “Called him in on my way. Told him I was bringing him a present.”
That isn’t going to get him his ten g back. Shawn hung back. He didn’t want to get involved. As a prospect and not a full patched in member of the club, he wouldn’t be welcome in club business anyway. It was better to blend into the background and just observe.
It didn’t help that he was having second thoughts about the club and their prez and all that crap. He’d gone from one piece of shit club and didn’t want to end up in another. The violence and the unfiltered drinking, the treatment of the club whores, the drugs, the unjustified raids, the overall shit environment of the place and the ass-backwards activities that went on… it was all just like the last place he’d escaped. He was lucky enough to get out with his life. Most guys didn’t. It took their ol’ prez taking a knife straight to the chest to set him free. He’d sought refuge in what he knew and what he was used to, but god… he was either getting too old for it or it was just getting fucking old.
The Servants of Vengeance were ruthless because they had to be or someone else would take their place in the world, but just… just fuck this shit already.
“He better still be alive,” John Kill, the club’s prez, strode into the room. He had his phone in one hand, still talking heatedly into it. “I’ll be there tomorrow afternoon with some soldiers for you. We’ll get the situation straightened out. Tell your contact that he and his family will be under our protection.” There was a pause. “No, not fucking tonight. Fuck you, Cannelli. I’m the one doing you a favor here.” Another pause. “I’ll take care of that problem too. You don’t have to worry about anything. That’s what you pay us for. Yes I know you fucking pay us too much. I also know you’re a pain in my ass and a giant cunt, so tomorrow is the soonest I can do. Yeah, yeah, fuck you too.”
Kill hung up the phone and with a grunt, stalked over to the prone man. He delivered a vicious kick that probably broke whatever unbroken ribs the fucker had left. The guy didn’t even let out so much as a groan.
“You fucked him up good, Brick,” Kill said. It wasn’t a compliment. Brick actually shrank back. Kill might not be the biggest fucker out there, but with those soulless dark eyes and the knife scar that bisected the left side of his face, as well as his ruthless reputation, he didn’t have to be the biggest in the room to inspire fear and respect.
“Sorry. Kind of lost my temper when I found out what the bastard did,” Brick muttered.
“How’d it happen? I thought you were supposed to be keeping a handle on this bullshit. I have bigger problems than our fucking dealers going rogue right now, Brick.” Kill’s eyes swept the room. A few more men had gathered and stood off to the side, waiting for the proverbial shit to hit the fucking fan. And the walls. The floor. Every inch of the fucking room. When Kill lost it, he really fucking lost it. “That goes for you all.” There were nods of assent all around.
Brick, because he was smart where it counted, offered no excuses. “Won’t happen again. I’ll make it back. When the others find out that Pete here disappeared and ended up in a not so happy place, feeding the fucking worms, they’ll get the fuck on board. I’ll make sure sales triple this month.”
Kill nodded. He actually looked bored, which was never a good sign. It meant he was distracted with other things. The phone call with Drake Cannelli probably had something to do with it. Since taking down his brother the year before to free himself and his sister from the bastard’s tyrannical rule, Drake had been on one hell of a mission to rebuild the Cannelli empire. A few of his old contacts had to- fall by the wayside- or rather, fall under the ground, so he’d done his best to build up new ones. He’d made quick friends of the Servants, which were his brother’s enemies. Apparently their prez liked the money and the club’s new territory more than he hated Drake. His beef was with Nic
o Cannelli anyway and the fucker was long gone.
Shawn was actually there at the Cannelli place the day it all went down. Drake Cannelli looked like the devil himself, spattered in his brother’s blood. Ryder, Shawn’s old brother from his previous MC got himself involved with Drake and Nico’s sister and had gone in to save her. Turned out that Laura actually didn’t need saving. Drake took care of Nico, and Ryder got to make Laura Cannelli his old lady and live happily ever after somewhere out of fucking town. Shawn didn’t actually know where. He didn’t want to know where. The less he knew about anyone and anything, the better.
“The sales better be fucking triple this month,” Kill muttered. He snapped his fingers. “The rest of you, take this piece of shit out of here. Brick, mop of the goddamn floor. Next time, save a piece of him for me. This fucker’s too far gone to bother with.”
“He’s- er- still alive,” Skinny, a new prospect, actually whispered to Big John.
Kill turned, eyes wide. Shawn closed his own and breathed out a long silent sigh. Jesus, the stupidity…
“You better be fucking glad I’m not in a mood to kick your ass this evening, son,” Kill ground out. “I have bigger things to worry about than you being so fucking green you just got of your bitch mother’s tit. Since you don’t happen to have an ounce of fucking sense in that thick ugly fucking head of yours, I’ll spell it out. Burying them live is the point. It sends the kind of message that we want out there. Don’t fucking fuck with us.”
Skinny nodded frantically. Kill rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath. He stormed out of the room and the guys assembled, Shawn included, breathed out a sigh of relief. No one was going to be joining Pete there in being put to ground.
It didn’t mean it couldn’t happen. The Servants didn’t have laws about murdering brothers in the MC, like most MC’s did. It was cut-throat and savage and inhumane. For the most part, people survived. They stuck together because they were brothers, the only family that guys like them ever could hope to have. They couldn’t make it in the normal regular world, so they made it there. It wasn’t often kill or be killed, eat or be eaten. They weren’t often on the food chain, but it had happened in the past.
Fuck, Shawn knew it could happen anywhere. At his last club, their prez, Bone, got a little too cocky for his own good and he’d been done down straight up, left to bleed out where the rest of the club could find him. The fucker had their VP put down just for being too popular. So yeah. Shit got real. Even with laws, some clubs put their own down.
Still… as Big John carried the bloodied sack of shit that was Pete out of the room, a shiver crawled up Shawn’s spine. Being back on the food chain certainly wasn’t the best feeling in the fucking world.
Chapter 2
KAYLA
“No. I’m not having some thug babysit me!” Kayla tried not to pout, but she felt her bottom lip come out. She knew it was her father’s weakness.
She was an only kid. Spoiled as hell. It had been just them for six years now, since the fucker that was cancer claimed her mom. Kayla didn’t know if she believed in heaven, but she found herself hoping it was real, just so that her mom was there, pain free. Watching someone you love suffer was the worst kind of hell. A living hell. An inescapable hell that stayed with the survivors long after. She knew she was the last thing left in her father’s world, as he was hers.
“I’m sorry, Kay, I’m not budging on this one.” Alexander Mariani folded his arms and leaned back in his desk chair. He stared her down, his dark brown gaze unwavering.
Kayla felt her shoulders slump. She wasn’t sure what her father had got himself involved in over the past year while she was finishing up at college, but things had changed. She sensed it in the constant look of anxiety written all over her father’s gentle features. The shock of gray hair that kept on graying, the new lines around his eyes, the sagging of his lips and jawline, the new security cameras around the outside of the house and the brand new fence and gate that surrounded the property. Then there were the random bikes that drove by, circling the house every now and then. Kayla knew it wasn’t by chance. Something was going on.
Something dark and underhanded and shady. She wanted no part of it. She wanted her father to have no part of it.
“Please, dad, come on. I don’t want to be a part of this. I don’t even live here. I- I’m not a part of whatever business you’re doing. I have my own dreams. I- I don’t want this to shadow what I’m doing. I want people to see me as a legit operation. I can’t run a business when my dad is doing deals with crooks.”
Her father sighed. He seemed to slump in on himself and grow a little smaller, like he was shrinking away every single day until he’d be gone completely. She couldn’t take it. It was like a barb straight to her heart to see her father that way. She loved him. He’d suffered right along with her mother. Losing her almost killed him. Kayla wanted him to have some joy left in his life. She wanted the light to come back to his eyes.
“I’m sorry. This is how it has to be. At least for the time being. Wherever you go, you’re going to have to have a body guard for the foreseeable future.”
“Why?” The fact that he’d used those exact words, body guard, shook her to her core. “Dad? I keep trying to tell myself that this is going to get better. That you’re not really involved with something terrible. That maybe you just know a few people you shouldn’t and uh- maybe their businesses are on the kind of side that doesn’t report yearly taxes, but… I don’t want to think you’re doing something where people could actually get hurt… dad… are you? What do you have yourself mixed up with?”
Her dad breathed a long drawn out sigh again. His lips thinned out further and Kayla swore that he aged another year right in front of her eyes. Her dad was fifty-two. He looked like he was seventy-two. “The less you know, the better. I don’t want you involved in this. I’ve done my best to keep things that way but you’re my daughter and when things get- strained in the web that connects us all, I need to know that you’re safe.”
Kayla gasped. She expected her dad to deny everything. To tell her she was worrying for nothing. That it was just some stupid standard protocol. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end and a chill brushed up her spine. Her stomach flipped uncomfortably like she’d just swallowed a rock and it was trying to digest through.
“Please tell me you’re not serious,” she begged in a last ditch effort to hang onto her father as the normal, legit businessman she thought he was.
He slowly shook his head. “I’m sorry. All I can tell you is that I’ve made some investments with business partners and while some of the businesses are legit, others are- others I can’t talk about.” His eyes begged Kayla to try and understand. Or at least, if not understand, to forgive him. “One of my partners has a few people that don’t like that he’s in charge now. It wasn’t always that way. This new threat was against him, but I’m just in the storm’s path. The guard is a precautionary measure. For both of us.”
Kayla slowly shook her head. “So all this time I was away and you kept telling me you were fine every single time I called, that the cameras and fences were because of an increase in break ins in the neighborhood, you were actually lying to me.”
Her father didn’t even try and deny it. He looked tired. So very, very tired. “I’m sorry. Like I said, the less you know, the better. Please just trust me on this. It will likely only be for a few weeks. The guard will have to stay inside your condo with you but I’ve been assured he’s-”
“What? Stay inside my condo,” Kayla choked. “No way! I’m not having some random guy that I don’t even know, a dangerous random guy who is probably violent and horrible, stay in the same house with me.”
Her dad reached out and gripped her hand and it terrified Kayla how cold it was. She couldn’t look at him any longer. She couldn’t bear to see the fear and love in his eyes. She let her eyes roam around the office instead. It was the one room in the house that had always been off limits
to her as a kid. There were two large bookcases filled with classics. Her father loved reading. The room was windowless, but was hung with original oil paintings of colorful scenery. Her father’s ancient oak desk was piled high with papers and his laptop sat closed in front of him.
“This man might seem like a threat, but I promise you, there is worse out there. Men more violent. A thwarted man, one who has been humiliated and denied his prize, is a dangerous man. Trust me. This man might appear rough. He might sound rough and look rough and even smell bad. He might be dressed in leather and drive a bike, but he will keep you safe. If need be, he will sacrifice his life for yours.”
Kayla’s mouth dropped open. She wanted to tug her hand away from her father- a man it turned out she didn’t really know at all, but she couldn’t find the strength. “Why would he do that?”
“Because,” her father said gravely. “It’s his job. It’s what he’s paid to do.”
“He’s a biker,” she stated flatly. “If he’s being paid to do a job, he can be paid to do the exact opposite. Are you sure you can trust him?” She couldn’t believe she’d actually just asked that question.
“I don’t have a choice,” her father replied gravely. “We have to trust him.”
He dropped her hand and stood slowly. He extended his arms and she had no choice but to step into them. This man was her father. He’d cared for her. He’d cleaned her up and comforted her when she was sick as a child. He’d come to every single one of her school plays and her dance recitals over the years. He’d taken her shopping more times than she could count, driven her around to friends’ houses, taught her how to drive.
He was her rock when her mom was dying. He’d walked through every painful step of the way with her. He’d been there for her after the funeral, when she thought her whole world was going to come down around her. He’d supported her. Paid for her college, even though he didn’t approve of what she was doing. He didn’t think that cooking or owning a restaurant was good enough for his daughter, but when she’d asked for the training and then gone to get her Business Degree, he’d encouraged her. Helped her keep up with her studies even with the long hours she spent at the hospital, and later, at home, with her mom.
Lonely Rider - The Box Set: A Motorcycle Club Romance - The Complete Series Page 77
