Bones: The Black Cobra MC #4

by Rylan, Savannah

  Bones

  The Black Cobra MC #4

  Savannah Rylan

  Kasey Krane

  Copyright © 2020 by Savannah Rylan & Kasey Krane

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Bones

  2. Thea

  3. Bones

  4. Thea

  5. Bones

  6. Thea

  7. Bones

  8. Thea

  9. Bones

  10. Thea

  11. Bones

  12. Thea

  13. Bones

  14. Thea

  15. Bones

  16. Thea

  17. Bones

  18. Thea

  19. Bones

  20. Thea

  21. Bones

  22. Thea

  23. Bones

  24. Thea

  25. Bones

  26. Thea

  Epilogue

  About Savannah Rylan

  About Kasey Krane

  More Books by Savannah Rylan

  Prologue

  Thea

  Ten Years ago

  I was accustomed to spending a lot of time by myself now. I was a loner and most of that pattern of behavior had to do with the fact that I had been a loner all my life. It wasn’t that I didn’t have a family. Technically I had parents and an older brother, and that was the life I had grown up knowing, but it wasn’t the life I ended up eventually leading.

  We were just kids when everything changed. When we left our parents and things were finally beginning to look up for us.

  Finally, I thought, we would not have to tie our fate to our parents. To the lives that our mother and father had chosen for us. The one that they forced us to live because they were addicts and did not care about the conditions that they were bringing their children up in.

  At least I had my brother, and at least he had me. He was always going to be the only family I had ever known and now, he was making some big changes that was going to change our lives forever.

  Our apartment wasn’t much but it was something. It was better than the nothing that our parents made us live in when we were younger, just a few years ago. The place they still lived in and where we’d escaped from.

  Now, we weren’t kids anymore, not as far as the real world was concerned. I had just turned seventeen a few weeks before, and my older brother, Drake, was now a strapping young man of twenty-one. We knew how to take care of ourselves and each other.

  The other thing I was aware of about my brother was that I knew he had his own life now, was that he was an adult, he had a more serious life away from mine. Before this, it had always just been the two of us against the world. Against mom and dad and their heroin addiction. Drake was always there to protect me, to cover my eyes to stop me from seeing mom’s body writhing and shaking on the floor when she overdosed. He was there to clutch my hand tightly at night, staying awake with me when I had nightmares.

  And now, he was a grownup and I knew I needed to act like one too. Our life was moving on and everything was changing for the better.

  Now that Drake had found us our own apartment, out of the heroin and crack infested neighborhood that we had grown up in; I could finally keep this place clean. I could finally focus on graduating high school. I could maybe think of a career and making something of myself, unlike the other kids in that neighborhood.

  Drake had his own aspirations.

  I knew he was involved with a local street gang, and they in turn were involved in activities which made sure there was always food on our table and our rent was paid in time. Drake was going to make sure we didn’t get kicked out of this place and that we wouldn’t have to return to where our parents still lived.

  But apart from the street gang, I also knew he had his eye on something else. I’d seen the way his face always lit up when he saw those boys on bikes pass us by on the streets. He stared at their leather jackets and patches longingly. He could never take his admiring eyes off a man from a motorcycle club. He wanted to be a part of them. That was the group he really wanted to belong to.

  For his sake I hoped his dream came true sometime. I loved my brother more than anything else in the world and I just wanted him to be happy. One of these days he would be, I told myself. And he’d get what he wanted.

  Drake didn’t always come home for dinner and even though I missed him and wished he was there to watch TV with me like before, I knew he was out there doing what he needed to do to earn us a living. So, I never complained. Where would I be without him? He saved me from everything.

  But the night before it happened, he came home, just as I was filling a small bowl up for myself with pasta.

  “Got any leftovers?” he asked, smiling wide as he walked into our little kitchen.

  “You’re home!” I threw myself at him, giving him a big tight hug because I was always that glad to see him. Drake pinched my cheeks, just like he used to when I was a kid and plucked the bowl out of my hands.

  I only pretended to be annoyed with him. I wasn’t really mad. I would gladly give him my dinner any night of the week.

  There was some leftover pasta and I half-filled another bowl with that and followed my brother to our cramped living room where he turned on the TV and threw himself on the couch. Just like how he used to stare at the club members admiringly, I glanced at Drake in the same way from the corner of my eyes as we ate. He laughed and ate while we watched a sitcom. Not that I was really interested.

  “How come you’re home early tonight?” I asked when the commercials came on. Drake shrugged.

  “It was going to be a quiet night and I thought I’d give my little sister some company. Aren’t you happy to see me?”

  “Of course, I am! If I knew you were going to be here for dinner, I would have cooked something more.”

  “Maybe next time we can go out for dinner, to a proper restaurant or something. How about that?” Drake scooped a forkful of pasta into his mouth and we smiled at each other delightedly. Things were really changing around for us. Going out to eat at an actual restaurant might not have been a big deal for other people—but for Drake and me it was.

  All our childhood, we had never experienced anything like that. Our parents barely even knew we were around most of the time or recognized us.

  “That would be something, yeah,” I said, and Drake reached over and pinched my cheek again. I tried to swat his hand away.

  “Stop that! I’m not a kid anymore!”

  “You’re always going to be a kid to me, Thea,” he laughed and pinched my nose between two fingers and tugged at it. When I was a kid, I was always afraid he’d really be able to steal my nose from me.

  I rolled my eyes at him now.

  “And you’re always going to be my obnoxious older brother!”

  He laughed at that and settled back in the couch. The commercials were over, the sitcom was about to resume and pull his attention from me again. But I couldn’t help but sport a big wide smile on my face because these moments were precious to me. Reminding me always of how important my brother was to my life. How when I got out of here and made a career for myself and got a good job, I was going to make sure I looked after Drake; the way he’d always looked after me.

  * * *

  Drake was gone by the morning, as usual, and I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye or ask him when he’d be back or what he was
doing for the day. Drake was a free bird and I knew I’d just have to wait and hope I’d see him again soon.

  I went about the rest of my day as usual, which consisted mostly of studying for my exams, cleaning around the apartment and daydreaming about a bright future.

  The truth was that I was finally at a place of peace in my life. I didn’t have to worry about my parents or money or educating myself. I wished my brother was around more because I enjoyed hanging out with him, but that was pretty much my only complaint.

  It was a lazy Saturday and I ended up not doing much. I was too lazy to even study for long. Instead, I worked on my dream board in the privacy of my bedroom. It was a secret project I’d been working on for a while now. Collecting all my hopes and dreams in one place for me to admire and aspire towards.

  Now when I looked back at it, at even the thought of the dream board I was building around the time—it made me laugh at myself because I realized how silly I used to be. Dream boards are for dreamers. For people who are not willing or able to take their lives and fate into their own hands. But back then I didn’t know any better.

  I truly believed that I could conjure up a happy future for myself; just by fantasizing about it.

  So, I was in a dream-state, hazy daze, feeling light and exuberant about myself that day because I thought I was staring a bright future right in the eye. I was floating on clouds for the rest of the day and when the doorbell of our small apartment rang in the night, just sometime after dinner; I thought it was Drake, coming home for dinner. Twice in one week, and in a row!

  I was excited when I pulled the door open, hoping to see my brother’s happy face on the other side, asking me if he could steal my pasta from me again.

  But the sight that greeted me on the other side of the door shocked me to my core. My blood ran cold and I screamed like I’d never screamed before.

  Drake was covered in blood. There was so much blood on his shirt, with more gushing out, drip-dripping on the floor as his two friends Rob and Mark dragged him into the apartment. I couldn’t even tell where the blood was coming from. His chest? His back? Was it a gunshot? A stab wound? I couldn’t tell anything.

  “Drake! Oh my God! Drake! What happened to you! Drake!” I was screaming and crying, while Rob and Mark deposited him carefully on our couch. Drake had his eyes open, but the eyelids were fluttering, drooping. I could see him trying to murmur something, but it sounded like gibberish.

  “Just get him some water, Thea!” Rob yelled.

  “Hospital. We have to take him to the hospital. I’ll call for an ambulance!” I huffed, filling a glass with tap water and bringing it over to him. I knelt down on the floor in front of him, holding the glass to his lips. Drake couldn’t move, he didn’t know where he was or what was being asked of him.

  I couldn’t stop the tears from gushing down my cheeks. In all these months of Drake getting himself involved with the street gang, I never once considered the fact that my brother could be in danger. In real actual danger. I believed he was invincible, that he would always keep himself safe from harm for my sake.

  “Drake please…don’t go…please…I’m going to call for an ambulance,” I whispered to him now, taking his bloodied hand in mine.

  “There’s no point. It’s too late now, Thea,” Mark said, standing over us. I clutched my brother’s hand, the way he used to when I was a kid and I was having a nightmare. Drake continued to murmur something. He was staring up at the ceiling. I could see how the light was diminishing from his eyes. He blinked rapidly and didn’t recognize me. He’d lost too much blood already; I knew I was going to lose him. He was going to go in a few minutes. Nothing could save him now…nothing could save me.

  “What…what happened to him?” I asked in a hollow voice. All I could do now was kneel beside him, cry, stroke his cold sticky hand. Wish I was someone else. Somewhere else.

  “He got stabbed, in the gut.”

  “By whom? Why?” I hissed. I didn’t know what I was feeling right then. Anger? Sadness? Desperation?

  “This guy called Gunther. He’s crazy.”

  “Why? Why did he stab Drake?”

  “We don’t know. Maybe he provoked Gunther in some way, maybe there was no reason for it. Nobody knows why that motherfucker does the things he does.” Rob was speaking above me. I didn’t have to look at him to know that he was distressed too. These guys were close friends. We were all united in our desperation for Drake.

  “Gunther…” I whispered his name, while Drake’s pupils seemed to dilate and then he batted his eyelashes rapidly and stared up. Nothing was moving anymore. Not even his chest.

  I let out a loud cry and threw myself on my brother.

  “No! Drake! No! Please!” Those were the only words I could think of. The only thing I could do. I couldn’t wrap my head around how this could have happened.

  Just last night, he was sitting on this couch, we were watching TV together…I had my dream board. I had plans! How could he leave me like this? Why didn’t he stay away from Gunther?

  1

  Bones

  My wounds had healed, and the Sons of Satan were over, but it wasn’t over yet. Lynch was dead. Patch’s woman, Samantha, was now safe from harm and the Sons of Satan, who had been trying to wage a war against us for the past two years and take over our business; were now disintegrated. Without Lynch, they were nothing. They had no real leadership and other than Gunther, there was nobody who could take his place.

  Even though Gunther had been Lynch’s VP and right-hand-man, we knew there was trouble brewing in that relationship. It wasn’t just Lynch who couldn’t rely on him, nobody in that club could trust Gunther. He was completely unreliable. It was like he literally had a screw loose in his head; as Samantha had described him to us.

  She knew him well because she’d been involved with the Sons of Satan for years while she worked as a barmaid in their clubhouse. They used to treat her like their own personal property; but it was all over now.

  I was happy for Patch that he’d finally found someone he could settle down with. Samantha and Patch were made for each other, or whatever other words you would use to describe that relationship. I wasn’t an expert at it, but Patch looked happy.

  In any case, there were other things on my mind. The Sons of Satan were destroyed, but it didn’t mean we were out of the danger zone yet. Gunther was still out there, and there were talks about a new club he was trying to start. The Smoking Beards or something, he was calling them. Samantha had minimal information on it, we would have to employ our own spies on the field to find out more.

  Not that we had any big fear to consider the Smoking Beards to be dangerous. They were just starting out, they were likely too small to do any real damage, and more importantly—they were being led by Gunther! Who nobody trusted and nobody was going to be loyal to for very long.

  However, the real danger lay in the fact that he was unpredictable. Who knew what that crazy motherfucker was capable of? Who knew what rash decision he might randomly take against us?

  We were aware that he was already pissed. We’d made a fool of him; we’d embarrassed and insulted him. He was sulking somewhere, raging mad and looking for revenge—which made him capable of doing anything.

  And also, he was coming after me.

  “You should’ve conked him when you had the fuckin’ chance,” Patch commented. This was after Church at the clubhouse. We’d just finished talking about the Smoking Beards and how we were going to have to deal with them. Nobody was interested. We’d just had a big victory. Lynch was dead. Business and life could resume as normal, fuckin’ finally!

  The Smoking Beards were just a minor problem on the side that Grimm wanted Patch and me to take care of.

  “You brought this upon yourself,” Grimm, our President, complained light-heartedly. Which was probably true to a large extent. Gunther viewed me as his personal problem. In the past few standoffs we had with the Sons of Satan, while Gunther was still Lynch’s VP, it a
lways happened to be me who came face to face with him.

  I was the one who held him back while Patch made his escape with Samantha. I was the one who punched him unconscious, who subsequently shot his shoulder and forced him to the ground. I was the one who made a fool of him in front of his club.

  “We had orders to kill Lynch, not Gunther. I didn’t want to get ahead of myself,” I told Patch who shook his head indulgently.

  “And now we have to go after him, make sure we crush that stupid new club he’s started. What makes him think he can just start a Club whenever he wants? Where’s he even getting members to patch in? He has no fuckin’ business to rely on.” Patch was grinning. He thought this was funny, just like the rest of my club did. Nobody really viewed Gunther as a real problem, and I probably shouldn’t have bothered with him either.

  Except that I’d seen the mad bloodlust in his eyes. Gunther was off his racks. He was a nut job. But he also knew how to work methodically. It wasn’t going to be easy to take advantage of him, even though he only had a small team working with him.

  “I’m sure he’s going to start working on forming some kind of network soon. He has contacts. As crazy as he really is,” I replied. Patch shrugged, he looked unconvinced.

  “This isn’t going to take us time. We just need to figure out where he’s stationed himself and his Club, find him alone and eliminate him. He’s like a cockroach, he doesn’t deserve to live.”