Ryder: (A Gritty Bad Boy MC Romance) (The Lost Breed MC Book 1)

by Ali Parker

  More mumbles went around, and a soft laugh bubbled up in the crowd.

  Joe smiled and nodded at everyone. "If today had just been about the passing of a beautiful woman, then we'd celebrate, but it's not. It's about someone in this fucking city thinking they have the right to steal our crown jewel. It's about someone thinking that they can come into my house and take from me the one thing that belonged to me alone."

  The emotion that flowed freely was anger, and the priest backed up a little. Joe was known for being the most generous of bastards in the city—and yet the most deadly.

  A time of retribution and retaliation was coming.

  When we had the ability to pinpoint who was going to suffer for what was done to Vivian, it was going to be a bloodbath. Joe placed his hand on the casket again as the rain shifted and sprayed him. He looked fierce and ready to take on the whole damned city if necessary, but his expression only mimicked the battle cry we all felt deep inside for justice to be served swiftly.

  "We will find them, baby. We'll find them, and I'll kill every last motherfucker that was involved. Before I join you in the ground, we will avenge your death."

  "Yeah!" one of the syndicate brothers yelled from the back row, a few others joining in.

  Joe looked up at everyone and nodded. "Yeah."

  They all yelled their agreement but me. I was far too lost in my thoughts. How someone could be ballsy enough to hit Don Joseph Castaletta, a name that shook fear across the United States and half of the countries we dealt with overseas, was beyond me. It was almost unbelievable, and yet there we stood, burying our matriarch.

  I glanced up to Joe's dark green eyes boring into me. A look of question stained his aging face.

  A simple nod added my agreement to the Don's statement. There would be no one else at the front of the search for Vivian's killers outside of me, Joe, and Izzy, and everyone gathered to say goodbye knew it.

  Chapter 2

  Demetri

  The rest of the funeral was a blur. The priest tried to bring in a little more about the Lord into the mix, but I had already had my fill. A hole in the ground was the only rest and reprieve I expected after the life I had chosen to live.

  I walked away from the crowd and moved along the dirt-covered tombstones as the rain lightly misted from above. I tried to work through the various enemies we had made over the years, finding the list much longer than I had anticipated. But we weren't just looking for a casual enemy or a rival syndicate. Whoever took Vivian's life had to have tracked her to know exactly where she would be, and that Joe wouldn't be beside her.

  The fuckers knew what they were asking for. It was a death wish of the most daring kind — to rape and kill a mobster's wife in cold blood.

  Joe would grieve today with his family and his kids, but I knew damn good and well that tomorrow he would be on the war path. Nothing would stop him or the rest of the syndicate until this mystery was solved and vengeance was ours.

  I turned my head at the sound of footsteps. The leaves lay scattered along the ground from the long winter, giving the scene more color than any of us wanted in the midst of our suffering.

  Tugging my black leather bomber closer, I offered a sad smile as I laid eyes on Izabella. Her long dark purple coat hid the black dress she'd had me zip up that morning. Every cell in my body woke up standing in the bedroom behind her, and it was all I could do not to slide the dress off her shoulders and help her forget everything.

  I opened my arms to her in a brotherly fashion and lifted my head, beckoning her to come to me.

  She walked slowly, her head down, but sea-green eyes cast toward me. Her silky raven-colored hair cascaded around her shoulders and danced along the curve of her breasts. She was a picture of blissful innocence, which didn't belong at all to the sensual vixen who stopped short of reaching me.

  We spent all of our time fighting one another, but for that day, for that moment, I would relent and be anything she needed me to be to help her find peace.

  I took another step toward her and wrapped her in my arms, leaning down and kissing the top of her head as the smell of her skin tugged at desire deep inside of me. I'd spoken my condolences to her that morning back at the mansion and held her while she cried. I didn't need to speak them again. We were both hurting, and the simplicity of allowing a hug between us was enough. It was more than either of us had offered the other in far too long. I almost couldn't remember why we were so determined to keep ourselves at arm’s length. Seemed futile in the midst of our shared loss.

  "I still can't believe this is happening," she whispered against my chest as I brushed her hair back and tightened my hold on her.

  "I honestly can't either. We'll find out who did it, Izzy. Don't you worry at all about that."

  She laughed sardonically and pulled back, the look on her face quickly reminding me that her innocence was simply a facade that worked increasingly well to get what she wanted. "I'm not worried at all. I plan to find him before any of you do, and then I'm going to make him suffer far more than I do today."

  I lifted an eyebrow and gave a smug look. It would be agony to suffer by her hands on a good day, but now? Fuck no. I almost felt sorry for the bastard that killed Vivian simply because nothing caused more pain than a woman scorned. Izabella was far beyond the simple emotion of scorn, which left the recipient of her attack on the wrong end of the battle. It was going to be bad if Joe caught up to him, but if Izabella happened to first...

  "What are you thinking?" she asked, pulling me from my thoughts as she backed up a little and pressed her back to a tall pine tree behind her.

  The shape of her figure couldn't help but beckon my attention, even through the confines of the large coat she wore. Her long sculpted legs crossed at the ankle, her two-inch heels professional and still sexy as hell. I'd seen what was under the coat a few times in my life, and I'd have paid a lot for the freedom to demand seeing it again.

  I gave myself the pleasure of a quick glance across the length of her. Beautiful didn't even began to capture her.

  I shifted my eyes up toward hers and found her staring back with no emotion to be found. Cold. Empty. The perfect killing machine.

  "I was almost feeling sorry for the bastard that killed your mom. If you get to him first, it's going to be way worse than if Joe or I do." I licked my lips absently and ran my hands down the front of my suit jacket.

  "Why? Because I loved Mama more?" Her eyes followed my tongue closely.

  "I wouldn't doubt your love for your mom, but I was thinking because we would just shoot him point blank, but I'm pretty sure you'd make him suffer long and hard for what he did."

  "Long and hard. Sounds like my kind of date." She shrugged and stood up, stretching a little and turning to walk back toward her family. "Actually, I could use something to get my mind off of things. Long and hard will do perfectly."

  A soft chuckle lifted from me as I shook my head. I had something long and hard she could take her time enjoying. It was more than ready to get her mind off of any and everything that might plague her, but it wasn't happening. The last time we let passion pull us into depravity, neither of us had wanted to come up for air. It was a dangerous place to be with so many people working to take your life.

  Besides, we were too much like family, and no matter how much we might pine for each other, we kept it to ourselves. We would tease one another for the rest of eternity with the heat of what could be between us, but nothing more.

  "Wear yourself out, Izzy."

  She walked toward her father, and Joe opened his arms to her as they shared a long hug.

  Freddy and Marco stood over to the side, looking sullen.

  Marco caught my attention and motioned for me to join them. The oldest boy of the Castaletta crew, Marco was Joe's Consigliere, the guy that made sure all the business shit was in order. I was Joe's underboss, the guy in charge of everyone else.

  There had been a good handful of years that Marco had been second in command, but a
fter figuring out that he hated people, he switched positions to focus more on paperwork and managing Joe's affairs.

  Freddy was the youngest Castaletta and the capo for our narcotics ring. Too bad the little punk ass smoked as much as he sold. His greasy appearance and glassy eyes made it easy to tell that he was a doper and had been for a long time.

  "I think we should let things go for today. Tomorrow we get started again on trying to figure out who did this shit," Marco spoke slowly, his drawl lackadaisical, as was his way of doing things in life.

  "Fuck that. I say we get in the car now and go figure out what the fuck happened to Mama." Freddy sniffled, his eyes red and puffy—from sadness or drugs, perhaps a combination of the two.

  "Freddy. I don't think that's a good idea with the family here. We need to be with everyone, and you need time to grieve," Marco spoke softly, reaching out to touch the younger man on the shoulder.

  "No, I'm with him. We need to get on this. It's been four days since Vivian was murdered." Everyone flinched as I spoke the words no one wanted to say. The Don's wife hadn't simply died, and she hadn't passed — she’d been raped and murdered in cold blood. Someone had gunned her down and taken her life not because she wore pretty clothes or had a nice purse but simply because of who she was.

  "And we've been looking for four damned days and haven't found shit, have we?" Marco retorted, his face flushing a little. He touched his finger to his head and closed his eyes. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you."

  "It's all good." I looked over to see where Izzy and the rest of the crew were, glad that they weren't around to witness the backbone of the organization falling apart. "You go with the family, and Freddy and I will go look at a few more things that I wanted to check out at the crime scene. Today's Election Day downtown. There ain't no damned way the cops will be on site today. I just want more time to look for anything we can find. I'm sure the boys in blue swept the place half-assed like they do everything."

  "I think Freddy should come home with me. His mother was buried today. I don't think he's stable enough to deal with anything that you might uncover." Marco moved his hand from Freddy and crossed his arms over his chest.

  "I'm fucking right here. I'm going. You aren't my daddy, so back off me."

  Marco started to respond, and I stepped in. "I'll take him for an hour, and then we'll be back at the house. Your father and sister are motioning for you to join them. Tell them that Freddy and I are going to grab a few things at the store and then we'll be back at the mansion, got it?"

  I stood a good foot over Marco and Freddy. My height and size was something I was more than happy to use to my advantage.

  "Fine, but only an hour." Marco looked between us and then turned on his heel and walked off.

  Freddy stood stone still and spoke when Marco was out of earshot. "What's his fucking problem? It's almost like he doesn't want us finding Mama’s killer. What the hell?"

  I put my hand on Freddy's shoulder and walked toward the long black Cadillac that awaited us at the back of the funeral procession. "I don't think it's that at all. I just think he wants everyone together, which isn't too much to ask."

  "Then why'd you front him?"

  I rolled my eyes. "I didn't front him. I simply told him that I wanted to check things out, and taking you with me would be a good time to confront you."

  Freddy stopped before reaching the car, a look of confusion sweeping over his face. "Confront me on what exactly?"

  I slid my tight grip up from Freddy's shoulder to the side of his neck, pinching a little and moving the punk-ass toward the car. "On you not doing your job right and how bad I'm going to fuck up your life if you don't start."

  To Be Continued…

  Authors Note: This Castaletta series is FILLED with twists and turns. It’s a sexy love story, but there is some intense-ass drama around every bend on this one. If you’ve enjoyed what you’ve read thus far… pick up a copy HERE. It’s a wild ride you’re not going to want to miss.

  Money Can’t Buy Love

  A Look Behind the Curtain

  Sneak Peek

  (A Sexy Bad Boy Billionaire Novel)

  Sometimes love demands a second chance, but it will never be bought, no matter the amount.

  Michael Carrington promised himself after losing his wife that he was done with love. No more investing in anything he wasn't capable of walking away from. Sex and high-dollar business deals had become the center of his world. Throw in a touch of danger, and he had all he needed outside of a new assistant.

  Rainey Foster had finally graduated college, and as a struggling single mom, she just needed someone to give her a chance. She was willing to go all in with the right employer, as long as the buck stopped there. He could have her time, her commitment and her attention, but no one will ever have her heart again. She thought she had things figured out until she comes face to face with the illustrious Michael Carrington.

  Powerful. Confident. Sexy as Hell.

  Lust might ignite the flame between them, but love will have its way.

  Chapter 1

  Michael

  “So good,” the pretty blond I had bent over my hotel bed moaned as she gripped the sheets, taking me like a champ.

  “Yeah. You are.” I ran my hand up her back, pressing my fingers into her skin as she arched and cried out. I’d hit the spot deep inside of her I’d been after for the last thirty minutes. She was exquisite, and where I wished she was the ballsy red head I’d met in Bar Harbor a few months back, she wasn’t.

  Lisa was soon to be a faint memory, though I hated to see her go. I’d almost given up my bachelorhood for the pretty girl, but she wanted a younger man. Good for her. The blond beneath me was more than happy to let me take the reins, not that she had much of a choice.

  I rolled my hips and drove the full length of my cock deep inside of her as she whimpered and pressed back, hungry for anything I would give her.

  “Michael. Don’t stop.” She lifted up a little and tucked her hips in, tugging on my erection tightly with her sweet body.

  “I won’t. Just come for me.” I bent over the top of her and pressed my teeth into the back of her shoulder as she came, trashing beneath me. She sounded like every other woman I’d been with over the last few years, and yet there was something so beautiful about watching each of them lose themselves in pleasure.

  Pleasure. It was almost a four-letter word in my world, and one I indulged in a little too often, but life was short. That was a lesson I knew all too well. I forced away thoughts of my late wife and doubled my efforts, wanting to hear Sandy… or was it Sarah, come again. Whoever she was, I wanted to hear her blow one more time.

  “Fuck,” she cried out and bucked against me, riding me in a way that had me wanting to give her my number instead of walking out and never looking back.

  “Let yourself go.” I stood up and ran my fingers up the sides of her spine, pressing in hard until I reached her hair. With a handful of her blond silkiness, I rammed into her until the world exploded and all that was left was pure, unadulterated bliss.

  Why anyone would choose liquor or drugs to disappear from life was beyond me. Fucking was legal, free in most cases and so much better than the alternatives.

  It was, for sure, my drug of choice.

  ***

  I crossed the border into New York State a little while later and my foot instinctively pressed harder on the gas pedal. “I love this city.”

  And it loved me too.

  I smiled and gripped the smooth steering wheel of the Maserati, quickly switching over to the left lane. There was something about being so close to home that made the blood pump faster through my veins. Nothing compared to the hustle and bustle of Manhattan and I could feel its energy from miles away. The slick surface of the road was no match for the luxury car. The tires hugged each curve as if the ground was bone dry. The cars in front of me moved out of the way as if they sensed my urgency to get home.

  Lisa and the blond
, and every other woman I spent time with in Bar Harbor were in the rearview mirror. I was headed back to my life, back to the throne where I ruled as king.

  Overcast clouds hung heavy in the air, and I hoped I’d missed the brunt of the rain. I didn’t want traffic to slow down when I was so close. This highway was known for the insufferable rubber-neckers.

  I still had a ways to go before I arrived home, which didn’t bother me much at all. I forcefully relaxed my shoulders. The trademark tenseness that all New Yorkers experienced had started to creep into my muscles. Normally, I didn’t give much notice to the feeling. The relaxation from my mini-vacation fought the tension, wanting to linger in the experience a bit longer.

  I wasn’t ready to let go of the past few days just yet. Spending Thanksgiving at my summer house in Bar Harbor, Maine signaled the start of the holiday season for me. I’d started the event only two years ago but this year had surpassed the rest.

  It gave me a place to be a different guy, allowing another part of my personality to push forward. It was the part of me that Cynthia loved best. The softer side she would say.

  I’d sponsored a community event far away from the Manhattan spotlight had been good for my soul. I admired the genuine nature and kindness of the people in Bar Harbor, and I was happy to give back. Meeting my old friend, Drake Demarco’s new wife, Sicily had been a bit of a blessing too. The pretty Sicilian baker had helped with the event, allowing me a chance to get to know her a little better. The fact that she was Lisa’s best friend should have caused awkwardness, but Lisa and I had been short lived. I wanted a relationship, surprising myself, and she wanted freedom, or so she said. Funny how freedom came in the body of a twenty-something year old man. It was a loss on my part, but one I’d eventually be thankful for. I didn’t need commitment, though a part of me yearned for it. I forced my thoughts back to the warmth I felt when I gave back, like I had recently in Bar Harbor. It was feeling I enjoyed. Maybe a little too much. I knew that same feeling would continue when I started planning the charity Christmas event that Cynthia had started years ago.