I screamed and yelled, but nobody heard me. Tears streamed down my face in fear and rage. My legs gave out, and I collapsed to the floor. The world went dark and I failed again.
I kept trying to swat away the person caressing my face, telling me everything would be okay, because it wouldn’t. Nothing was okay, and it never would be. But, no matter how hard I tried, they wouldn’t go away.
A wet swipe across my cheek had me gasping for air. My eyes popped open to find two curious brown eyes, surrounded by brown and tan hair, staring back at me. Beauty tilted her head, her ears perked in worry. I gave her a pat on her head and sat up, swinging my legs to the edge of the bed.
I wiped a hand over my face, trying to push the memories back into the far corner of my mind. I didn’t bother telling myself it was just a dream because I knew better. I swallowed the emotion rising in my throat, and took a few steady breaths. Sweat dripped from my forehead and burned my eye.
The damn dog jumped right into my lap, and rested her head against my thigh… the one that still ached every now and again.
“For something that weighs five pounds, you give off a hell of a lot of heat,” I mumbled, and she gave me some serious side eye. “Come on,” I said, and she jumped up, wagging her tail like crazy and running in circles around my leg. She chirped, because no sound that came out of her ever sounded like a bark, as I pulled on a pair of gym shorts over my boxer briefs. She attacked my sneakers, as I tried to slip my feet into them until I finally lifted my foot out of her reach. When I put my foot down, she attacked the laces.
I stood as she jumped up on my leg, and then walked backward on her hind legs like a goddamned circus act. I shook my head. I didn’t want her. Aubree made me take her during The Hill Foundation’s Paws for a Cause, a bi-yearly event ran by the club to prove to the town people that we were upstanding citizens in the community, just like them.
Beauty wouldn’t leave me the hell alone and, once Aubree learned of her name, she insisted I had to take her because it was fate. Fate, my ass. I didn’t believe in fate, just coincidences. But Aubree was impossible to say no to, so I left that day with a rat for a dog. Though, and not that I would ever admit it, Beauty wasn’t half bad. She woke me from my nightmares every single time and stayed close after. She was a hyper ball of energy when I came home, always so fucking excited to see me and, as much as I refused to acknowledge it, I guess it was nice to not come home to an empty house. It surprised me how good it felt to have something be that happy to see you, even if it was a little rat.
I opened the door and slipped out into the misty cool night. Beauty followed. Above everything, she became a good running partner, always ready to go. I took off, smacking my foot on the pavement and closed my eyes for a second, as I left all that shit behind me.
The air rushed across my skin like a shower, washing away the grime. Cleansing me of the memories that haunted me. All of the Outlaws had their escapes. For Cash, it used to be sex with randoms before he got pussy whipped by Aubree; now, it’s sex with her. Miles, before he took his own life, would go on bingers. Kade’s escape had always been Sienna, even before she gave him the time of day. Dice used to ride for hours. Hudson got lost in computers, and Braxton blew shit up while getting drunk. For me, it was running. The least Outlaw-ish thing to do, but it was the one thing from my past that I kept.
The only thing from my past.
Nothing else mattered anymore. I left and never looked back; it was better that way. I wasn’t the man everyone thought I was, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to stick around for them to figure that out on their own. No. It was better this way.
I turned onto Park and, just like clockwork, made it not even two feet before Beauty came to a stop and sprawled out on the side of the road. She was a good running partner for about ten minutes. Once we went more than a few blocks, she’d get that fuck you look on her face and refuse to move.
“Come on, girl,” I said, but she rolled to her side. “Come on.” She ignored my request, and turned belly side up. “You’re a pain in the ass. You know that?” I rubbed a hand over her stomach, then scooped her up.
Her tongue curled up as she panted, and I cursed myself for forgetting to grab a bottle of water. I held her in one arm, and set my pace again, a little slower so she didn’t bounce around so much. Her panting evened out, and, when I glanced down at her, she looked like she was fucking smiling. Yeah, I’d be smiling too if I had a sucker carry me around all over the fucking place.
I cut down Sycamore and ignored my usual route, so I could get her some water. As my house came into view, Ryan’s face crossed my thoughts. I still couldn’t believe Stanson’s fucking kid, his goddamned replacement, was a girl. He was out of his fucking mind if he thought getting her involved with the club and our business was a good idea. She would be eaten alive, and spit out in a heartbeat.
I wasn’t worried about my brothers, but the other clubs. They would fuck with her, torture her, and they would make sure that she knew who was in charge and it definitely wouldn’t be her. There was nothing intimidating about her. Strip the uniform away, and she was just another innocent with too big eyes and nice lips.
I just hoped she could man up and fill Stanson’s shoes, without us having to babysit her ass.
4
Ryan
By the time I made it home the other night, I fell asleep after half a glass of wine, and never got past the first document in the folder Dad gave me about the Outlaws. With a few hours to spare before I had to go endure the torture of family dinner, I got to work.
The file was massive, but Dad had it organized by member, and then a miscellaneous section for unsolved crimes that Dad most likely assumed were related to the Outlaws. I bypassed Cash Archimedes Logan, Eugene “Dice” Warren and Kade Michael Danielson before I got to Bentley “Beast” Harris. After meeting him, I was curious. With eyes like his, there were secrets, dark and twisted possibly, and I needed to know what they were.
The first picture was a mug shot taken nine years ago for assault, and, after that, another one three months later for the same offense. There was a total of five mug shots, all for assault, but they all seemed to stop as of six years ago. Maybe he learned to control his temper, or maybe the threat of more time had him resisting his urges. The last guy he assaulted had to have his jaw wired shut and drink through a straw for two months. The only reason Beast was let off the hook was because there were “supposed” witnesses that said it was self-defense. Why did I have a feeling that was a bunch of bullshit? Especially since one of the witnesses changed their story completely a few days later. I’d bet every bottle of wine in my fridge that the Outlaws had a visit to that witness, and either paid them off or threatened their life.
I continued flipping through the files. All I knew about Beast was that he liked to beat people up. There had to be more. A reason he was like that. Or maybe there wasn’t. Maybe he was just that way because that’s how he was born. Chris always told me I needed to find the reason why people did bad things. In our line of work, he found it quite amusing since we dealt with criminals and thugs all day, every day. After he was killed, I realized it didn’t matter. I didn’t give a fuck about what made people the way they were. Their past didn’t change a damn thing. But, for some reason with Beast, I couldn’t shut off that internal nag that wanted to dig deeper.
Unsatisfied with the information Dad had on Beast, I flipped through the other files. Miles Harper was a real hoot. He had more arrests than I had underwear. It seemed every few months he had some charge against him, but then they stopped. I skimmed down and found out why. Cause of death: Suicide.
It seemed Miles’ file started the list of deceased members. Nick Jacobs, former president and founding member, was next. Shot and killed with no suspects. Had a daughter, Sienna, who wasn’t an Outlaw, but had her own file as well. Behind Nick, another Logan and, by his age, I assumed he was the father to Cash Logan. Also died of a gunshot wound.
The miscellaneous fil
e was filled with unsolved murders and even an abandoned Mack truck on the side of the highway, littered with bullet holes. I went through all the files, learning about each member’s arrest record.
I curled my feet under me, and held Beast’s first mug shot in my hand. He was so young compared to the man I met the other day. His face was still chiseled, but not nearly as strong or defined as it was now. His hair was long with a slight curl, and that deathly look in his eyes was even more intense. Funny how with age it softened slightly, even if it was still terrifying, though almost impossible to look away from.
My cell phone rang, snapping my attention away from the picture. I searched over and under the documents scattered across my desk until I found it. I let out a loud sigh when I saw Mom’s cell number pop up on the screen. I loved her dearly; even if she was overbearing and at times impossible, but my God she could drive a sane person crazy.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Ryan, it’s your mother,” she said with the Filipino accent she never lost.
“I know, Mom. It says it on my phone. What’s up?”
“I want to make sure you’re coming for dinner.”
“I already told you I’d be there.”
“Malaya and Taylor are bringing the kids,” Mom explained, even though we already had this conversation two days ago. I also had the same conversation with both Dad and my sister. Part of me was happy to be home, but another part of me missed the escape that living across the country gave me. I could dodge Mom’s calls because I wouldn’t have to see her often enough to have my ear chewed off. Her guilt trip was insufferable, but the severity wasn’t so bad when I was in Detroit.
“Anything else, Ma?” I would be seeing her in an hour so, honestly, the call was pointless.
“You should wear that dress I sent you for Christmas.”
I rolled my eyes and tried not to let my sigh be too loud. “Why would I do that?” A short black cocktail dress seemed a little over dressed for a family dinner with my niece and nephew, who found joy in jumping on me.
“Do you not like my gift?” Mom asked, and I wasn’t stupid enough to fall into that trap.
“No, I didn’t. I loved it. I’ll see, Ma. I got to go. I’ll see you in an hour.”
She reluctantly got off the phone, and I slumped into the brown microfiber couch, feeling like I just ran a marathon. Talking to her was exhausting.
I looked down at my Detroit PD t-shirt and cut off shorts, and I got up, silently cursing. I had no plans to change. I was comfortable, but, if I showed up looking like this, the backhanded compliments would never end.
There was no way in hell I was going to wear the dress she got me for Christmas, but in hopes of keeping her off my case, I would change. Welcome home, I thought as I headed to my closet. There at least had better been wine when I got there.
My parents’ house was on the outskirts of town, and the opposite end of where the Outlaws did business. Growing up, Dad made sure to keep us as far away as he could from any of their dealings. He even resorted to sending us to private school, so we wouldn’t make friends with any of the Outlaws’ offspring. In the summer, Malaya and I would go back to the Philippines to visit our grandmother. So, even though Black Hills was my home, the town itself never really did feel like home.
The house, on the other hand, was home. It’s where I had my first steps and said my first word. It’s where I would sit on Dad’s lap in the morning while he read the paper in his clean-pressed uniform before heading out for his shift. It’s where we’d gather around the dining room table every evening for dinner and, if Dad was running late, we would wait and wait and wait until he arrived before we were allowed to eat.
Some nights, it would be hours and Malaya and I would sneak food when Mom would go check out the window for Dad’s car. It didn’t happen often because Mom would lay the guilt on, sulking about how hungry we were. Dad always insisted we started without him, and I couldn’t agree with him more. I thought Mom was off her rocker, but with a few years under my belt, I understood it.
The paperwork he had to finish would always be there. It wasn’t going anywhere. He could come home, eat, then go and take care of what couldn’t wait. She wasn’t being a pain in the ass. She was just trying to keep the family together. To give us those moments together because eventually, when Malaya and I went to college, they became fewer and farther between.
So, maybe she was a little crazy, but the crazy came from a good place that I now could respect.
My brother-in-law’s car was in the driveway, so I knocked on the door, which I found weird in itself, and then let myself in. The unmistakable sound of my niece and nephew fighting with one another filtered down the hallway. Mom’s stern voice rose above them, and then there was silence. I laughed, remembering how many times she used that voice on Malaya and me.
“Hello?” I called out, as I walked down the hallway, running a hand down my purple top. It had a little lace around the collar, so I figured that made it dressy, even if I did pair it with skinny jeans.
“Ryan,” Mom said, coming toward me with a light pink apron wrapped around her small frame. Her black hair was perfectly combed into a chin length bob and had a gray streak running down the front that looked like she put it there on purpose. She was a good six inches shorter than me, which made people think she was sweet and innocent. Boy, were they wrong. She was a feisty little thing, and I had no idea how that small body of hers carried all that sass. “You came.”
“I said I would.”
She held her arms out to me and stopped, resting her hands on my shoulders and skimming her gaze down my body. “No dress?”
“I didn’t think it was appropriate for dinner with the family.”
“I see. Well. You look…nice.”
She said nice, but her tone made it obvious that she didn’t mean it. I don’t even know why I bothered. I should have just stayed in my t-shirt and cut offs.
“Thanks,” I said, looking over her shoulder to the kitchen and searching for the bottle of wine. Please let there be wine. She started fussing with my hair, and reached for the hair tie, when I pulled away. “What are you doing?”
“You have such beautiful hair. I don’t understand why you hide it in these buns.”
“It’s easier.”
“Aunt Ryan!” Emma said, running down the hallway with her arms in the air.
“Emma!” I said, and scooped her up in my arms, grateful for the little nugget. She had no idea, but she just saved me from her grandmother. “How’s school?”
“Good!” She smiled, showing off her missing front teeth. “Our class is hatching ducks.”
“Ducks? Get out of here!”
She swatted her light brown hair, like her father’s, out of her face. “I swear. And my teacher said, if our parents say it’s okay, we can take one home.”
“Let me guess. Mom said no?”
Emma pouted her little lips, and those big brown eyes flashed with trained sadness, getting me right in the heart. “I’ll work on her for you.”
“Yay!” she cried out, and hugged me, before I put her back down.
Joel came racing past me, and I grabbed his arm before he could get too far. He was all limbs and clothes. “No hi for your favorite aunt?”
“Hi, Aunt Ryan,” he said, and reluctantly kissed my cheek before taking off again. At eight, he was already getting too cool for public displays of affection. It broke my heart and made me wish I spent more time with him as a baby.
I finally made my way into the kitchen, as Mom reached for the back of my shirt and tugged at it. I spun around, and she shrugged.
“Ryan, you’re here,” Malaya said. We were sisters, but she was everything Mom wanted me to be. From her long black hair that sat perfectly against her shoulders to her navy blue wrap dress and gold accessories, she was perfect and everything I would never be.
“Why didn’t anybody think I’d actually show? I said I was coming.” As much as they all drove me nuts, I missed t
hem. I missed the smells of Mom’s cooking, sitting around the dinner table and talking about our lives. Hearing my niece and nephew laugh together when they thought no one could hear them.
“Stop being so dramatic,” Malaya said, and gave me a hug.
I found Taylor on the other side of the counter, standing next to a guy I had never seen before. I arched an eyebrow at my brother-in-law and his cheeks flared up.
“Ryan, this is Steve. He works with Taylor,” Malaya offered.
I crossed my arms over my chest, and ignored the balding man to Taylor’s left, as I eyed my brother-in-law. Steve stepped forward, and Taylor mouthed his apologies, making it clear he was only a puppet in this set up.
“It’s very nice to meet you,” Steve said, holding his hand out to me. “You’re very beautiful. Taylor didn’t do you enough justice.”
“Is that so?” I tore my angry gaze away from Taylor, and forced a sugary sweet smile. “Pleasure’s all mine,” I said, taking Steve’s hand and making sure to squeeze extra hard. His soft jaw ticked, and he used a smile to cover up his pain, as I pulled my hand away.
“That’s some grip you have there,” he said, shaking his hand out.
I wasn’t short, but this guy was an inch shorter than my 5’7, and he looked to have a good ten years and a hundred pounds on me. And not muscle weight, either. He was round in the stomach, and probably couldn’t outrun a hermit crab.
“Are you also an accountant?” I asked, grabbing the wine bottle off the counter and pouring myself a very generous glass. Malaya could give me a ride home after this stunt.
Dad was nowhere to be found, which meant he knew what was happening and wanted no part. I couldn’t decide if that made him a good man or just a smart man.
“A CPA, yes. I’ve been with the company for fifteen years, have my master’s degree and…”
“Like long walks on the beach,” I interrupted not able to help myself.
Beast (A Righteous Outlaws Novel #4) (The Righteous Outlaws) Page 3
