by Ryan Michele
The road was winding, and each curve was more exhilarating than the next. He gunned the bike at times, then released the throttle on others. He knew this like the back of his hand. It was a challenging ride, and only experienced riders should do it. That was for certain.
Crow looked in his mirror, and I felt his body tense. Slowly, I turned my head as if looking at the landscape, but in my peripheral vision, an old blue pickup truck was coming up on us quickly. Much too fast for this stretch of road.
Crow kicked up the throttle as we began pulling away from it. The truck didn’t hesitate to speed up and catch us. Fuck. This wasn’t good.
My man grabbed my hand and pulled it up his chest, coming in contact with a gun he kept in his holster at his sides. Yeah, this shit wasn’t good.
I gave him a squeeze to let him know he was understood. Releasing the gun, I pulled it out, but kept it under his leather cut out of sight and between us. Releasing Crow, I readied the gun, then wrapped my left arm around him, keeping my right with the gun.
Him riding and shooting would be difficult with the terrain we were on, but I had no doubt that he would be doing that exact thing. Luckily, I was here to help.
Crow didn’t let up, and neither did the guy behind us as I stole glances.
We were hitting a tight curve and had to slow down a bit. That’s when I heard the ping of shots coming off the bike. Fuck. The asshole was shooting at us.
Crow heard it too because he began to move the bike in a way that would make it difficult for the shots to hit us. It was always more difficult to hit a moving target than a still one.
Two more hit the cement below, and I was done. Unlocking the gun and holding on to my man with one hand, I turned, gun up and fired off three. One hit the glass of his windshield and two hit the hood.
The gun came back out the window. I aimed at it and shot, but didn’t know if I hit it for sure. The hand went in, and he stopped shooting. That I took as a good sign, but the guy needed to be immobile. After two more shots and missing the damn tire, I took a breath in and out.
Guns were always in our home. My father taught me as soon as I could hold one, how to shoot, clean it, and take care of it. He taught me how to respect it. He also made me practice with it. A lot.
Tuning around, I aimed and fired off four. The truck swerved as the rubber exploded, disintegrating as the rim ate it up quickly. The hunk of metal hit a guardrail, then flipped hard and landed on the roof of the truck.
Fuck.
Crow slowed down and turned us around. He, no doubt, wanted to know who the fuck was shooting at us. Hell, I did too.
He parked the bike and didn’t bother with his helmet, keeping it on as we raced off the bike. His gun in hand, he handed me a cell. “Call Brewer. Tell him we’re on the curve at mile marker seventy-three. Bring the van and wrecker.”
I nodded as he took off, but I didn’t let him go far because I was on his heels all the while trying to find Brewer’s name.
“Ry. Stay over there,” he ordered, fire burning bright in his eyes. It was a warning, and I wasn’t a dumb woman. Moving off to the side where a large hill was at my back, I brought up the number, held it up to my ear, and kept my eyes on Crow as he stalked to the truck.
There was no fear inside of him. His gun was raised, and I swore if he took three bullets, he’d keep on moving. He was so damn stoic. This was a Crow I hadn’t met before.
This one meant serious business, was cold and ruthless.
Unshakeable.
Unfuckable.
Hard.
“Crow, my man. How’s things?” Brewer said in my ear.
“Brewer?” I asked, making sure.
“Who the fuck is this?” he barked, no doubt pissed someone had his president’s phone. I would’ve smiled at that, but not in this situation. I watched as Crow tried to see into the cab of the truck.
“This is Rylynn.” I relayed the message from Crow.
Then I got a, “Fucking hell. Be there in ten.” He disconnected, and I slipped the phone in the back pocket of my jeans.
A shot went off and hit the ground at Crow’s foot. At that I moved. My man wasn’t going to not have someone at his back. He’d be pissed at me, but we’d deal with it later. Crow was on the opposite side of the truck as I got down low.
The man had dark hair and blood coming out of several different wounds on his face. He held the gun unsteady with his right hand and was trying to turn his body to get a better shot.
Fuck him.
Crouching low, I took my shot, hitting the asshole’s hand as blood splattered everywhere and his cries of pain rented the air.
Crow looked over at me and shook his head, but there was a small smile playing on his lips.
I shrugged. “This is a partner thing, Grizzly.”
The smile grew. We had no idea where the assailant's gun went, therefore I kept my gun trained on the asshole while Crow reached in and pulled this dickhead out of the wreckage that was his truck.
Crow picked him up like he weighed nothing. He was pissed, but also had a smile. This was because the asshole in the truck not only had one hand shot to shit, he had two. The one I gave him while riding took out the fucker’s hand.
This felt great.
No one fucked with Ravage. Any of Ravage.
Crow’s face then turned stony, going back to the man he was a few moments ago. He was tight and purposeful.
“That fuckin’ bitch!” the man screamed, and Crow punched him hard in the jaw sending him falling to the ground in a heap. No doubt that hurt.
“You motherfucker.” Crow kicked him a few times in the ribs, but the man was bleeding profusely out of his hands.
I knew I should keep my mouth shut, but I didn’t know this man. Crow obviously did. If he needed him for information, him bleeding out wasn’t going to help.
“Crow!” I yelled, his hard gaze coming to me. “You need him for anything? Cause he’s gonna bleed out, and you won’t get anything.”
Crow peered down at the man. “Fuck,” he growled. “Grab the rags from my saddlebags.” I took off, grabbing them and some zip ties then coming back. Crow nodded to me while his boot was pressed into the man’s face.
My leather gloves became coated in this man’s blood as I wrapped the zip tie around his wrists and pulled it tight, stopping the blood flow. The man screamed, but I pulled with every bit of strength I had inside of me.
Without looking under the rags, I did the same thing to the other side. The man’s legs kept kicking up, so I sat on his thighs and zip tied them together, halting his damn movements. Then I went back to the other wrist and did the same thing as the other.
“Remind me not to piss you off,” Crow said, standing above me.
I smiled. “I will, don’t worry.”
After I finished, Crow removed his boot. “Simon,” Crow growled.
“Who is he?” I asked, moving to Crow’s side. Luckily no cars came by during all of this, and I’d hoped this was a stretch of land not too many people came on. This needed to be cleaned up before that happened.
“Sophia’s ex who I kicked out of her house.”
At the name, my body chilled. I didn’t know if this would be my reaction every time Sophia was brought up, but it was now. Fuck.
“And the plot thickens,” I muttered.
“Pixie.”
I held up my hand just as I heard the roar of pipes coming from behind us. Inside, I began to pray these were Rebellion and not some other club. Crow’s gun was out and pointed to them as he pushed me behind him.
His body eased, and I knew these were his men so I stepped out. “You boxing me in has got to stop, Crow.” The growl was deep because he was pissing me off with that shit. I knew how to take care of myself, and him treating me like glass wasn’t going to work for me.
“Never.”
I growled. Well, this was going to be a wild ride. That was for sure.
5
Crow
Rylynn, fuck sh
e was something else. Took off both hands without even blinking an eye just knowing this man was a threat to us. That was fucking hot as hell. I felt that tension though, when Sophia was mentioned. That was going to take some work.
Seeing my brothers, I pulled Rylynn in front of me, pressing my cock against her ass.
“You got me rock hard,” I murmured in her ear.
“Awe. Blood makes you horny. I’ll remember that.”
Wrapping my hand around her neck, I pulled her back and her lips attached to mine. It was awkward for her, but she didn’t let on, just kissed me back full force.
“What the fuck happened?” Brewer and Wrong Way were the first to get to us with the rest of the men following behind. Only then did I release Rylynn and turn to my brothers, my arm still wrapped around her.
“Simon. Shot at us and tried to run us off the road.”
Wrong Way studied the asshole. “Fuck, took off both his hands?”
Rylynn’s body shook with silent laughter, but she said nothing. I did. “Not me, brother.”
Wrong Way’s focus went to Rylynn. “You?”
Rylynn shrugged. “You act like it’s hard or something.”
Wrong Way burst out laughing. As did Brewer and my other brothers. Yes, Rylynn fit in perfectly.
Turning serious, I barked out orders. “This asshole goes to the clubhouse. He talks. Get the truck hooked up to the wrecker and out of here. Rylynn and I’ll meet you at the clubhouse.”
My brothers had stunned faces for a moment, but as we walked away, they got to work.
Now, to finish our ride. Then, get her in some clothes that didn’t have another man’s blood on them before we hit the clubhouse.
The clubhouse wasn’t a flurry of activity. It was calm with only a few of the brothers inside along with two mommas laying on the chairs in the television room.
Van darted out of the kitchen and ran up to me wrapping her arms around my hips. “Hi, Daddy!”
“Hey there, peanut. How’s it goin’ with Goldi?” The woman in question came out of the kitchen holding a towel and drying her hands with it, a wide, happy smile on her face.
“She taught me how to make corn pudding!” She was so damn excited about this fact. No doubt her mother never taught her anything in the kitchen. Fucking glad she was with me.
“That’s one of my favorites,” I told her, looking down as her eyes lit with excitement. It really was.
“I know. I’m learnin’ so I can make it for you.”
“Hey there,” Goldi said to Rylynn, wrapping her in her arms and pulling her tight. “So glad to have you back.”
“Happy to be back,” Rylynn responded as she pulled away. The light of the clubhouse lit her face. Fuck, she was beautiful.
“Got somewhere to be.”
Rylynn’s focus came to me as she nodded, knowing where that was.
“Maybe Goldi can teach you my favorite dish too.”
Rylynn laughed. “You’d be surprised to know I have a bit of Gordon Ramsey and Rachel Ray in me.”
“Oh, you do?”
She nodded. “But have to say, I’ve never made corn pudding.”
I bent down and kissed the top of Van’s head, then moved to Rylynn and kissed her lips. She was in good hands and not only that, I wanted her to feel comfortable here.
The clubhouse was my life, and the one time she was here before didn’t end well. I wanted her to have good memories and feel as if she belonged. Because she did, by my side.
Moving out the door, Brewer was on his way in. “Lookin’ for you,” he said. “Got him in the tomb. Ready?”
With a nod, we took off to the side garage where an ATV sat waiting for us. The tomb was on the other side of our property. An underground place that my father had put in thirty years ago. We’ve had to fix up the walls to make sure they were sturdy over the years, but we kept it.
It was so muffled down there, no one could hear a single thing. To get to it, we drove.
“You get anything out of this fucker?” Brewer asked me while I held on to the bar above my head. Our land was a bit hilly. Great for riding and fucking around.
“Nah.” Quickly, I went through what had happened, filling him in on everything.
“She shot off his hand while riding on the back of your bike?” Brewer asked as he pulled us into the old silo and cut the engine. The silo had been there over fifty years. My father told me stories about when it was built and that it housed grain.
When he bought the land, they didn’t tear it down. A few years after, they learned they needed somewhere that was private for chats. Therefore, this place was dug out underneath.
“Yep,” I tossed over my shoulder as I climbed from the ATV.
“Fuck, brother.” He lifted the latch to the cellar. “Don’t piss that woman off. Her aim is too damn good.”
On a chuckle, I climbed down the stairs, the smell of the dirt invading my nostrils. Lights were hung throughout the space, just bulbs with a pull switch. All of which were on.
The space wasn’t vast by any means, but it held my brothers, me, and the target of our visit giving us enough room to move. Wrong Way, Tex, and Phoenix were on one side of the room, while Hornet and Rooster were on the other. Brewer was beside me from following me down.
Simon was strapped by his arms, legs, and torso to a metal chair in the middle of the room. The chair was attached to bolts in the floor, unable to move. Simon had cuts oozing with blood and bruises everywhere, but he was nowhere near down for the count.
“Anything?” I asked, knowing the answer from Simon’s smug face.
My fist landed heavily on his jaw, sending his face flinging off to the side and blood splattering out of his mouth.
Phoenix pulled out his knife. “We were about to get creative.” He turned the blade this way and that, but Simon didn’t look scared one bit.
“No.” I shook my head and turned to Hornet. “Whip.”
Hornet’s grin turned wicked as he went over to the large cabinet and pulled out his short leather whip. He had much bigger ones, but with the confined space, we had to make do.
The leather cracked in the air as Wrong Way put out his arm. “One sec,” he said, grabbing Phoenix’s knife and cutting Simon’s clothes off him letting them flutter to the ground. Wrong Way then nodded at Hornet who began.
Simon tried to hold it in with each lash cutting his skin. He even bit his lip to the point of blood trying not to allow the screams to come from his lips. With each snap of Hornet’s wrist, the tension in the room started to thicken.
When the first cry of pain rang through the air, the tension lessened a bit. He would break, we just needed to find what did it for him.
“Why did you come after me today?” I asked him as sweat mixed with the blood running down his body.
“Fuck you!” he yelled.
Moving over to the cabinet, I rummaged through it. “We really need to get supplies in here.” Digging, I found an old bottle of bleach. Opening the cap and tossing it to the ground, ever so slowly I began to pour the bleach over Simon’s body making sure to get into the cuts deep in his flesh.
His screams were so loud the dirt could shake under our feet. Just what I wanted to hear.
“See. You came after me today. Was it on your own or did someone put you up to it?”
“Fuck you.” This time it came out shaky.
Lifting my chin to Rooster, I asked, “There any salt in there?”
Rooster went through the cabinet. “Nope.”
“Shame.” The last bit of the bleach came out of the bottle. “Shock?”
Rooster smiled while I heard Wrong Way chuckle. “Fuck yeah.”
“Set it up.”
We didn’t do this much because normally we didn’t have to, but Simon was appearing to be a huge pain in my ass.
Brewer moved into Simon’s line of sight, his body still shaking from the chemicals in his cuts. “Better start talkin’.”
“What the fuck are you doin’?�
� Simon gritted out shakily.
Rooster rubbed two of the connectors together creating a spark. Simon’s eyes grew wide, but he masked it quickly. At least we had his attention now, and he didn’t think this shit was funny anymore.
“Some shock therapy. Heard it helps people get their mind clear.” Rooster chuckled standing next to Simon. “Here, feel.” Rooster touched one of the prongs to Simon, and he jolted his back twisting and turning. “See, that’s not so bad.”
“Fuck!” Simon yelled as he convulsed. The fact he had words was impressive. A normal man wouldn’t be able to. This thing had a very high voltage to it. There was a reason Hornet wore leather gloves with it.
“We’ll just keep amping it up until you talk,” I warned, smelling the burnt flesh. That was a smell that did not appeal to me one bit.
Hornet did it again. Simon screamed. Then his head fell, but he righted it. I stared at Hornet making sure he understood me. We needed the man in pain, not passed out or dead. At least not yet.
Hornet rubbed the prongs together again as the fear hit Simon. “You kicked me out!” Simon finally yelled. This I knew, but there had to be more to it. There was always more.
“And,” I went on.
He said nothing, so I did. “Phoenix, time to play. You then Hornet. Get him to talk, now.” Phoenix smiled, pulling out his long blade. Back and forth they played with Simon.
Surprisingly it took four minutes. Simon’s time holding out was pretty good.
“Didn’t have a place to live,” he blathered, but none of us gave a fuck.
“What is the Purple Pride?” I asked, needing this information more than the fact the fucker tried to kill me. He was already dead for that.
Simon shook his head, but it was slower. Phoenix began to carve a word in Simon’s chest, while Simon screamed. The word asshole stood out loud and clear, blood dripping from it. If we weren’t careful the fucker would bleed out before we got what we needed.
“Talk!” Tex ordered, kicking Simon in the side where the word was carved. “I’m gettin’ bored with your fuckin’ shit.”
