by K. Renee
A Wayward Saints MC Novella
By K. Renee
Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Epilogue
Sneak Peak at Wayward Secret
About the Author
Acknowledgments
Dedication
To my supportive family and friends.
Copyright
Wayward Ryder
© 2016 K. Renee
Published by K. Renee
1st Edition
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
Published: K. Renee - 2016
[email protected]
Cover Design: KLa Boutique
Formatting: K. Renee
Cover: © Kruse Images & Photography: Models & Boudoir
https://www.facebook.com/KIPmodelsandboudoir/?fref=ts
Cover Model: Robert Simmons
https://www.facebook.com/Robert-Simmons-1454791651453000/?fref=ts
Editor: TCB Editing
https://www.facebook.com/TCBEditing/?fref=ts
ISBN-13: 978-1523259656
ISBN-10: 1523259655
Chapter One
Looking down at the number that just popped up on my phone makes me want to chuck it against the wall. Last time I talked to that bitch was when she decided that she couldn’t be part of my life anymore. She didn’t like the biker way of life, and thought that I would just end up cheating on her ass.
Even after I had promised her that I wouldn’t, she still left, and took half of my fucking heart with her.
I have no idea why she is even texting me right now. It’s been years since we last spoke, and it didn’t end on friendly terms. Clicking on her number, I read her message, even though I probably shouldn’t after everything this bitch has put me through.
Unknown: Ry, I need your help. I know you probably still hate me, but I really need you.
Fuck. At least she got the hating her part right. Going against my better judgment, I write her back, and see what she could possible want after six years.
Me: What do you want?
Unknown: Can you meet me?
Me: Fine. Where and when?
She texts me a place and a time, and I kick myself for even replying to the bitch. I need to meet up with her like I need a fucking hole in my brain. I pull on some jeans from the floor, and pull my boots on. Grabbing a clean t-shirt, I pull it over my head, and head out of my room.
Walking though the clubhouse I run into Brant and Jase talking about their ole’ ladies, and planning some dinner or some shit. Chuckling, I walk over to them, and smack them both on the backs of their heads.
“You fuckers sound like fucking pussies.” They both get grins on their faces, and shrug off my comment. Taking a seat next to Brant, I wait for them to start their shit talking.
“Just wait Ryder, you’ll be a pussy again one day,” Brant says, tossing a napkin at me.
“Fuck that. The only bitch that got close to being my ole’ lady split years ago, and that ship has fucking sailed. I plan of taking over Jase’s pussy supply, since he got all fucking tied down like your bitch ass,” I say, and grin at them both.
“I got to go; I’ll talk to you fuckers later.” We all mutter our goodbyes, and I stand up making my way outside to my bike.
Starting the engine, I can only think that I’m making a huge fucking mistake going to see her. I liked it better when I didn’t have to think about her, and all our fucking memories. I wasted four years of my life with her.
Pulling up to the coffee shop we used to hang out in high school, I remember the last time we were fucking here together. We fought about me joining the Wayward Saints, and how she couldn’t stomach seeing all the whores hitting on me at every turn. She didn’t want me to become a member because she was afraid of something happening to me, or worse, me getting killed.
I tried for weeks to get her to understand why I was doing it, but no matter what I said or did, it was never enough to keep us together.
Sitting on my bike, I watch the people walk in and out of the coffee shop, but I don’t see her. After waiting for twenty minutes, I check my phone, and send her a message.
Me: Where the fuck are you? I have shit to do.
She doesn’t reply, so I stick my phone back in my jeans, and contemplate leaving. I shake my head as I pull a cigarette out of the pack, and put it to my lips. Before I can light it, I hear a voice behind me say, “You know those will kill you.”
I light the cigarette, and turn around to see the girl who walked out on me six years ago. She doesn’t look like she’s changed a bit. Her long black hair is curled, and her body is still just as tight as I remember it being. Her brown eyes look sad. I try to think with my head instead of my dick, but it’s fucking hard - literally and figuratively.
“Looks like you haven’t changed. I don’t remember the last time you were actually on time for something.”
She snickers, and walks closer to me. She tosses her black hair over one of her shoulders, and plays with the ends.
“It’s good to see you Ryder.” Her voice is quiet, and she looks unsure of what to say.
“You too. You look like you’re doing well,” I throw out there. Hell, I don’t even know how to fucking process seeing her again.
She blushes, and hides her face in her hair. Grabbing her wrist, I pull her closer, and move her hair out of her face. She’s way too beautiful to be covering her face.
“Why did you need to meet with me?” I question.
I’m not here for a reunion, and I want to get back out of her life before I do something fucking stupid like fuck her on my bike.
Her eyes roam my body, and I have to force myself to remember that she’s the one who left me. She’s the bitch who fucking broke me.
“I need your help. I got in over my head, and I can’t get myself out of it.” I watch as she fidgets with her hands. She keeps looking over her shoulder, like someone is going to come after her at any minute.
“What did you do?” I ask bluntly.
“A couple of years ago I started dancing at a club, and before you say anything, please don’t. I needed the money, and it was the only way to make a lot without having a college degree. I get paid really well and…” she trails off.
I force her to look at me. “And what Danielle?” I grit out.
“They are now forcing me to take men to the back and fuck them. I only got in it to dance. I never wanted to be an escort. What do I do?”
Looking into her eyes, I see the tears starting to form, and part of me wants to do everything I can to
help her. But the other part makes me want to laugh and say, this is what you get.
“Ryder,” she whispers, when I don’t say anything.
“Don’t you have some fucking boyfriend to help you get out of this mess? You’re not my girl anymore, and I don’t see why I have to be the one to bail your ass out.”
She shrinks back, and pulls out of my grip. “You know what? Forget I even asked you. I’ll figure it out on my own.”
She turns to leave, and I get a sick feeling in my gut. I loved her for a long time. If she can get the fucking guts to come ask me for help, I should be able to fucking man up and help her.
“Don’t go. I’m sorry,” I say, getting off my bike, and going after her.
She’s about to get into a nice BMW that I wouldn’t be able to afford in a million years. I grab her door, and keep her from closing it.
“No, it’s fine Ryder. I shouldn’t have even contacted you,” she sighs. Her brown eyes are still just as fucking beautiful as ever, and staring into them makes me want to fuck her, and help her all at once.
“Danielle, just fucking tell me what you need me to do.”
She slowly gets out of her car, and stands in front of me. “I just want to get out of this club and move on from these people. I want my life back, and I know I’ll never get it back if I am forced to do something I don’t agree with. I’m not a whore, and I don’t want to be forced to sleep with these men. Dancing I can do, the rest I can’t.”
“Where are you working?” I ask, not really wanting to know the answer to that. I can’t fucking imagine my girl working as a fucking stripper.
Shit. She’s not mine anymore.
“Mickey’s,” she whispers.
Fuck. That club is in Black Hills territory, and I have no idea if it’s actually owned by them or not.
“Danielle, who owns that club?” She shrugs, and looks at me with sad eyes.
“I don’t know, I just work there,” she says, trying to look over my shoulder.
“Ellie, who are you looking for?” I ask, looking behind me.
“Evan. He’s kinda my boyfriend, slash douche bag, who got me this job. I think he’s the one who calls the shots there, and he won’t let me leave him. I tried a week ago, and he backhanded me.” She casts her eyes down, and her body heaves.
Pulling her body into mine, I get a million jolts shooting through my body. She still fits me like a she’s meant to be with me. This girl was my high school sweetheart, and I would do anything for her then, and apparently now too.
Chapter Two
He hit my girl. All I can fuckin’ think about right now is that mother fucker hit my girl. Shaking my head, I force myself to remember, she ain’t mine anymore.
“What do you need me to do?” I don’t know how exactly to help her unless she spells it out for me. I don’t want her to go all fucking crazy defending him, if I try and take his ass out of the picture.
“I want out of this life Ry. I want to be happy again.” Tears pool in her eyes, and I have a hard time looking away from her. She was my fucking life until she decided she was too good for me and the life I lived; maybe I shouldn’t help her.
She got herself into this mess, I’m sure she can get herself out. She might have to suck a few dicks, but she’s a big girl now.
“Ryder,” her lip trembles, and she wipes a tear from her eye. “Please help me. I can’t do this alone.” Her fingers grip the edges of my cut, and I can see the fear in her eyes.
Fuck.
Sighing, I look at her once more before I tell her to follow me to the clubhouse. She nods her head, and gets into her car. Dropping the cigarette on the ground, I stomp it out, walk over to my bike, and start the engine. I pull out in front of her, and lead her towards the clubhouse.
Halfway there, I notice a car following us. I take a few less traveled side streets, and see the car still tailing us. Pulling over to the side of the road, I put my kickstand down, and stand up. The car slows, but doesn’t stop like us. Danielle is looking at me like I’m crazy, but I keep my focus on the car, as it speeds by.
Looking back at Danielle, I see her eyes widen as she takes in the car. She rolls her window down, and yells my name, “Ryder? Who the hell was that?”
Walking over to her car, I lean in the window and ask, “That wasn’t your boyfriend?”
She shakes her head no. I stand up, and start back towards my bike. “Follow me. I need to talk to the club.” She nods her head. I straddle my bike, and take off towards the clubhouse.
When we finally pull up, I park and wait for Ellie to walk over to me. She has on these fuck me heels, and I’m surprised she can even walk in those fucking things.
Leading her inside, we pass a few of the brothers talking about who the fuck knows what.
“Where’s Prez?” I ask them. They look around the room for a second, but don’t give me an answer, instead their eyes land on Ellie.
“You fucking think about it, and I’ll break your dicks.” The prospects pale, and Bentley just grins back at me.
“My old man is in his office. He’s pissy though, so I wouldn’t bring him any problems,” Bentley smirks.
Grabbing Ellie’s hand, I drag her behind me towards Prez’s office. “Where are you dragging me Ry?” she asks, barely being able to keep up with me.
Stopping, I turn towards her. She trips, and I steady her. Her fingers grip my arms, and when she looks up at me, I can see the lust fill her eyes. Her breathing hitches, and blush creeps up her neck.
“Just remember this was all yours once upon a time ago,” I smirk.
Her eyes flash with embarrassment, and then anger. “Fuck you Ry. You were gonna get yourself killed, or worse, and I couldn’t watch that happen. I fucking loved you too much to watch something happen to you.”
Without even thinking, I pull her towards me, and bring my lips down on hers. Gripping the back of her neck, I pull her flat against me. A moan slips past her lips, and she grips my arms harder; her finger nails digging into my skin.
Instead of going to see Prez, I pull her with me towards my room. She doesn’t stop me when I pull her in the door, so I kick the door closed behind me. Spinning her around, I push her up against the door, and slam my mouth down on hers.
Picking her up, she wraps her legs around me, causing her dress to ride up to her thighs. Running one of my hands up her thigh, I stop it on her ass, and give it a squeeze. She breaks our kiss, and leans her head back against the door. She arches her body into mine. I press into her while I undo my jeans, and pull my dick out.
In one swift thrust, I slam into her, and she moans loudly. Groaning, I run my lips down her neck, and thrust in and out of her at a slow pace. “Ryder, harder. Please fuck me harder,” she whimpers.
Pulling out of her, I let her slide down my body, and walk us over to the bed. I turn her around, push her face down on the bed, and pull her hips up to me. Slamming back into her, she arches her back, and throws her head back. Her eyes roll into the back of her head, and I just continue to thrust into her at a frenzied rate.
Reaching around to her pussy, I rub her clit, and I slide my other hand up her body and pinch her nipple through her dress. “Oh god,” she moans, slamming back into me every time I thrust into her.
Her body tenses up, and she yells out my name as she comes. Her fists grip the blanket as I kiss up her neck, sucking on the spot right below her ear that always affected her back then. I slam into her a few more times, before I come inside of her.
“Fuck,” I roar, collapsing on her. My weight pushes her onto the bed, but she doesn’t complain.
Pulling out of her, I roll over, and take a few deep breaths. Fuck I forgot how fuckin’ good it felt to be inside of her. She’s the only girl I’ve ever fucked bareback, and probably the only one I ever would.
She turns and looks at me with a small smile on her face. “Wow,” she breathes.
Reaching over to her, I grab her arm, and force her to come to me. When she’s lying on t
op of me, I kiss her until she’s panting for more.
“Fuck I forgot how good you felt wrapped around my dick,” I whisper against her lips. She grins, and grinds down against my dick causing it to harden again. Before I can fuck her again, her phone starts to ring.
She gets a worried look on her face before she scrambles off of me to get it. When she looks at the screen, her face pales, and she hits the answer button.
“Hello?” she asks.
I watch her whole body tense up, and she refuses to look at me. Getting up from the bed, I pull my jeans up and button them, before walking to her and forcing her to look at me.
“Who is that?” I mouth to her. She shakes her head no, but I don’t let it fly. I want an answer, and if she’s this scared, then I am gonna do something about it. Scaring women is not something men should fucking do. We should fucking protect them, and fuck them.
“No, I don’t work tonight…” she trails off, watching my expression.
“Sorry, I’m not in town at the moment or I would say yes.”
Grabbing her hand, I walk her back over to the bed. I grab my phone, and shoot off a text.
Me: Do you know who owns Mickey’s?
Brantley: Why?
Me: Just need to fucking know.
Brantley: It’s in Black Hills territory, but I don’t think they own it.
God I fucking hope not. Because when I get Ellie the fuck out of there, I will be bringing more shit to our doorstep.
She says a few more things to whoever is on the other line before she hits the end button, and sets the phone down in her lap.
Searching my phone for Trace’s number, I hit call, and wait for him to answer. “Yeah?” he asks, when he finally answers.
“I need some information. Can you find out who owns Mickey’s?” I ask. I hear some typing, and then he groans.
“You know this is in Black Hills territory right?” he questions.
“Yeah Trace I do. Need an owner’s name,” I grit out.
“Looks like a dude named Vincent Mangotti,” he says, after a few minutes of silence.