marked and all.
Opening the shaving kit, I reach in for the black box I hid a week ago.
Going back to our bed, I trail the wash cloth up the inside of Roe’s thighs.
“I could take a nap now,” she says, still not turning over. I can’t help but laugh.
I roll her over, she stretches her arms over her head as I clean her front and rub her pussy with the cloth. Setting the black box between her legs, she jolts up.
“The guys didn’t find my box of toys, did they?” she shrieks, and I laugh as I drop to one knee in front of the bed.
“Loved you then,” I begin as she looks between her legs and see the box. “Love your pussy, love your heart, fuckin’ love everything that is you, Roelyn Madeline Duprey. Would love to make you my wife. Pick a date, Roe.”
Her eyes grow wide. “Whitton Thorne! I can’t tell our grandchildren this is how you proposed!”
“Why not?” I laugh.
“Well, first, I can’t talk about you loving my pussy, and you keep telling me to pick a date. This is where you’re supposed to ask.”
I flip the box open and watch as her eyes grow big at the emerald cut solitaire. “Way I see it, I want something, I don’t ask—I go for it. I want you to be my wife, so pick a date and we can move onto me lovin’ my wife’s pussy and showing her everyday how much.”
She smiles as I take the ring and slide it on her finger. “Loved you then,” I say before kissing the ring and her finger, “fuckin’ love you now, and damn sure gonna love you a lifetime.”
“I guess I better pick a date,” she says, cupping my chin in her hands. “First, show me how much you love me.”
I growl and kiss her as I stand and then lay over her. “Say it, Roe, say you’ll marry me and then I’ll show you how much I love you and your pussy.”
“Yes, Whitton Thorne, yes, yes, yes.”
Epilogue
Sometimes the greatest battle we face is in our mind!
“Gotta ride out, brother,” Triple Threat says from my dining room table.
“Will you be back in time for the wedding?” Roe asks as she sits across from him. This is her thing: once a week, a family meal with my brother. Since TT cleared the air with her, they may not talk but my woman makes sure she includes him in everything she can.
I love the way she accepts him and understands he has his own demons.
“I promise, Roe, nothing will keep me from being there.”
The way he looks at me has me on edge. “You aren’t one to ride out alone. What’s the catch, brother?”
“Made a promise to you a lifetime ago. Won’t let her touch you or anything you got again.”
My blood runs cold. He’s found our mother.
“Nothing’s gonna touch me,” I try to explain. She’s kept her distance over the years. Why the worry now?
“Let’s just say I’m gonna make sure of it. The time has come, and she reached out to the wrong people in the wrong way.”
Roe’s eyes grow wide. “Waylon,” she starts, he lifts his hand and she corrects, “TT, please stay with us. No one will bother us.”
“I’m gonna make sure of it, sister,” he says, trying to soothe my woman.
Standing, he takes his plate to the sink. “Thanks for the food. I’ll be back before the wedding.” He never says goodbye, it’s just not a word he uses. With a squeeze to Roe’s shoulder he walks out.
I look at Roe before I stand and follow him out the door. “Way, come on.” He turns and his eyes meet mine. The determination in them tells me my brother knows more than he’s letting on. “At least let me come with you. Not alone, brother, don’t do this alone.”
“I took you away from her once, cost you years. Won’t do it again.” He turns back around, getting to his bike. His final words before the engine roars to life stick with me.
“She took enough from you, I’ve taken enough from you. Whitt, you’ve always been the good one. Now, have your life. You’re not my keeper anymore.”
Catch up with all the members of Ruthless Rebels MC in Schooled with Triple Threat and Jessica coming summer 2017!
Sneak Peak of Schooled (Ruthless Rebels MC #4)
Waylon "Triple Threat" Thorne – the untouchable.
Man of steel with a capital S
His crystal blue eyes are something dreams are made of down to the way he carries himself, everything is beyond reality.
My first lesson in heartbreak. What happens when we both learn we’ve been schooled in miscommunications?
Chelsea Camaron and Ryan Michele have teamed up to bring you an explosive new MC romance that will have you panting for more of the Ruthless Rebels. Hold on tight, it's going to be a wild ride full of action and suspense that these two authors are known for. Throw in two people who finally get their second chance, and things are about to get smoking hot.
Excerpt of Bound by Family by Ryan Michele
Bound By Family (Ravage MC Bound Series #1)
©2017 Ryan Michele
Prologue
Cooper
This life.
My life … is Ravage.
Some say it’s my destiny. Others call this my curse.
Lucky for me, I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks. The man I’ve become is because of a choice—none of that other bullshit. Everyone in life has a choice, a path. What direction you take is up to you.
For me, I had this moment in my life, a moment when I knew who and what I’d become.
It wasn’t forced or coerced as the talk has been around this small town. No, the moment that haunts my dreams is what created the man you see today.
Family.
From the beginning to the end, family is what you start with and what you end with. I’m bound to it, honored by it, and respected in it.
Chapter One
Cooper
The echo of the hammer hitting bone crackles through the air in the small, dank room. The man’s screams fill the space with pain, anger, and contempt. He doesn’t want us here anymore than we want to be in this dump. Unfortunately for us both, he fucked up and it isn’t an option. No, it’s a necessity.
Fucking Stu.
Ravage Motorcycle Club, my family, we run a tight ship, so to speak. There is a code, rules of sorts that must be followed. Fall out of line, there will be punishment. Stu fell out of line.
Ryker laughs off to the side, pulling me away from my thoughts as I let go of the man’s wrist, hammer still clenched in the other hand. The asshole, Stu, falls to his knees on the dirt floor, holding his broken finger.
That’s not the only one he’s going to get today for his stupidity.
He knows better. Everyone in Sumner, Georgia knows better. Hell, make that anyone who has ever heard of Ravage knows better.
“You’ve got a hell of a blow with that thing,” Ryker calls out. The man is twisted and warped. He does this shit for fun and entertainment. Part of me thinks he gets off on it, but to each their own. Me, I do this shit out of duty and responsibility. Regardless, he’s been by my side for years, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
When no response comes from me, Ryker walks up to the man and gives him a savage kick to the gut, making the man curl into a ball to protect himself. Green and Jacks stand off to the side of the small space.
We brought Stu to one of our outbuildings. It’s more like a rundown shack, but it has what we need to get the job done.
“I’m thinkin’ we need to take off some piggies,” Ryker eggs on, and a chuckle escapes me. He does have a way with words, saying exactly what he thinks with not an ounce of filter.
“Give me a shot,” Jacks, another one of my brothers and a friend from high school, says as he holds his hand out to me, waiting for the hammer.
Handing it to him, I then take a step back and cross my arms. It’s not me being a pussy. It’s me wanting to get this shit done so we can get the fuck out of here.
“Money,” I bark out to Stu as Ryker gives him another hard kick, thi
s one to his thigh.
Stu owes our club fifty thousand seven hundred dollars and some change for merchandise he purchased. We gave him a week after the initial payment of fifty grand went smooth. Ravage and Stu have a history, and in that time, this is the first instance when Stu hasn’t paid up in full. It’ll be the last time as well.
“I-I can have it b-by the weekend,” Stu stammers out as Jacks swings the hammer, hitting Stu in the ankle. Another crunching sound reverberates throughout the room.
Ryker smirks, coming to stand next to me and giving me a slight bump on the shoulder with his elbow. “Believe this fucker? Weekend?” He shakes his head and spits down at Stu. “Motherfucker, you have twenty-four hours to come up with the cash.”
“If we don’t have it by then, you’re done,” I add as Jacks takes another swing.
His cries of fear fill the air.
After an hour of making sure Stu gets the picture by using our fists and hammer, we ride.
***
Fresh air. The freedom of feeling the elements surround me. The delicate balance of navigating a road or eating asphalt.
It’s the best part of every day.
The ride.
My bike is a beauty. A Heritage Softtail Harley painted black and red—Ravage MC colors. Working on her has been my pastime for years, tuning and cleaning. I take care of her, and she takes care of me. Wouldn’t have it any other way. There’s something about taking garbage and turning it into something you love. That’s my bike. She began as a pile of shit and turned out to be absolutely perfect.
Life ties us down. Materials hold people back. The open road is about freedom. Ravage is freedom. We live to our code, our standards, and we take care of our own.
My mind clears on the open road awaiting me, nothing but blacktop and paint ahead. Riding allows me the peaceful time to think. Sometimes my rides last hours, while others only last minutes. Normally, whenever my mind figures out what it needs to, that’s the time I pull my bike to a stop.
Lately, the Ravage MC has been bringing in some serious money with all the deals that Pops has worked out over the years. Some of them bring more than others, but it’s becoming more difficult to filter the money. Especially with the amount of cash. There’s only so much we can put through the garage and Studio X, the strip club. Even Stu owes us, and when that cash shows up … Well, it’s got to go somewhere.
It’s been working well, but we had to stock pile cash in several of our vaults in the clubhouse basement. Having cash on hand is great in the times we need it, but it will continually increase over time if we keep at this pace. That being said, we need something else to funnel the money.
The thing is, I’ve been around the club my whole life. I prospected in early. Just turning twenty-two, I’ve held my place for four years now. I’m ready to step up anywhere needed. More so, I’m ready to give a fresh mindset and view to the way we do business. It’s all for family.
My Ravage family.
My top idea is a car wash. It’s an all-cash business, unless you let the customers use credit cards, which I would advise against. If we keep it all cash, we could put some of the money through there. I even searched the internet about all the working parts of one of the machines and how much it would take to build and maintain it. Ravage could easily do it, but the downside is all the moving pieces. Sure, we can go and fix the shit, but I want to work smarter, not harder.
There’s a way, and I will damn well find it.
My parents taught me many things. The first and foremost is to be my own man. If that means carving a new path for the Ravage MC, I’m up to the task.
***
Pulling up to the clubhouse, we park in the lot, all next to each other, turning off the engines and taking off our helmets.
This building is home.
My memory is damn good, which is both a blessing and a curse. My father doesn’t know, but I remember living with my biological mother and seeing stuff as a young child that was flat-out wrong. It’s not that he doesn’t care to know; we just don’t talk about it.
Besides, remembering those times only pisses me off. Seeing men come in and out of the small apartment, going into that woman’s bedroom then coming out a while later. She was always doped up on something. Back then, I thought she just wasn’t feeling well.
When she started hitting me, that was when I knew what fear was. A woman is supposed to love their kid, at least somewhat. Mine didn’t. Not at all.
The moment my father told that woman—my incubator, as we call her now—I was staying with him, that’s what I consider my rebirth. It was a new start. Not only that, but I had a new mother, as well. One who loved me, took care of me, and put all my needs above anyone else’s, not giving two shits what anyone thought about it.
When I started living, this ugly-as-fuck, cement-blocked building became home. Don’t get me wrong, we had a house, as well, but the clubhouse is where it all started for me.
“How’d it go?” Pops, the president of Ravage MC and my grandfather, asks upon us entering the building as I get chin lifts from the guys.
Pops has been the president since I came to Ravage—at least eighteen years. He’s done a great job building the Ravage Motorcycle Club into very profitable entities. Not only that, after the bullshit that went down when I was a kid, Pops keeps a tight leash on any and all our friends and enemies. One doesn’t do what we do and not have a huge basket of both, but Pops has kept it all in line.
“Ryker got a little too happy, so the guy won’t be having kids, probably ever, but the message was sent. If he doesn’t have it by the weekend, then we’ll take care of it.”
Pops chuckles.
“Hey, the fucker was tryin’ to stand up. If he would’ve stayed down, his nuts wouldn’t have cracked.”
Laughter is heard throughout the clubhouse.
Pops slaps his hand on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze. The look he gives me is different, but he says nothing as he walks to one of the tables and has a seat.
I’ve noticed things about him these last few months. The looks that come across his face when he thinks no one is looking, as if he’s tired and the weight of the world rests on his shoulders. There’s no doubt in my mind that it’s true.
Running an entire MC is a shit-ton of work. Even doing it for years and having it down pat, there comes a time when it could be too much. I kept my mouth shut about it, though, not wanting to overstep my boundaries. When Pops is ready to tell us what’s going on, he will.
Heading toward the bar, I grasp the cold beer sitting on it then join the guys at the table. Blood means nothing to any of us. We are a family of our own choosing. Each one of us couldn’t be more different if we tried. It’s as if we were put together in this clubhouse for a reason.
Take Becs. He’s the vice president and has recently told us that he’d like to step down and let one of the younger guys take his role. That decision is huge and one of the highest topics at our next church. Becs is quiet. Silent but deadly. He’s never up in your face, but one wrong move, and he will tear you down.
Then there’s Rhys. He’s silent, but his face, body—hell, even the air around him—screams “breath my air, and I’ll end you.”
My dad, Cruz, he’s middle road between the two. He has no problem getting in someone’s face, yet he’ll only do it when necessary. His face isn’t scary like Rhys’, but he has his own badass vibe he puts off.
Me, I’m more of a thinker, a planner if you will. I like to look at all the possibilities and facts before coming up with a strategy.
Somehow, all our crazy asses fit together, and we are bound by family.
Read more in Bound by Family www.authorrymichele.net
Excerpt of In the Red (Devil’s Due MC #1) by Chelsea Camaron
In The Red (Devil’s Due MC Book 1)
©2016 Chelsea Camaron
The event that shook one small town to its core was never solved. The domino effect of one person’s crime going unpunished is be
yond measure.
He’s no saint.
Dover ‘Collector’ Ragnes rides with only five brothers at his back. Nomads with no place to call home, they never stay in one place too long. Together, they are the Devil’s Due MC, and their only purpose is to serve justice their way for unsolved crimes everywhere they go.
She’s not afraid to call herself a sinner.
Emerson Flint still remembers the loss of her elementary school best friend. She is all grown up, but the memories still haunt her of the missing girl. Surrounding herself with men at the tattoo shop, she never questions her safety. Her life is her art. Her canvas is the skin of others.
However, danger is at her door.
Will Dover overcome the history he shares with Emerson in time? Will Emerson lead him to the retribution he has always sought?
Love, hate, anger, and passion collide as the time comes, and the devil demands his due.
Prologue
I hang my head and sit in silence. The television blares as strangers move about our house. Some of them are trying to put together a search party, and others are here with food and attempts to comfort. I want them all to go away. I want to scream or break something. I want them all to stop looking at me like I should be beaten within an inch of my life then allowed to heal, only to get beaten again. Do I deserve that?
Hell yes, I do, and more.
There is no reprieve from the hell we are in. I would sell my soul to the Devil himself if I could turn back time. Only, I can’t.
The reporter’s voice breaks through all of the clamor.
“In local news tonight, a nine-year-old girl is missing, and authorities are asking for your help. Raleigh Ragnes was last seen by her seventeen-year-old brother. According to her parents, her brother was watching her afterschool when the child wandered outside and down the street on her pink and white bicycle with streamers on the handlebars.
Scarred: The Ruthless Rebels MC Series Book 3 Page 13
