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

by Ali Parker

  I winced, as I did every time Cynthia crept into my thoughts. It happened a lot lately, and I knew it would as the upcoming holiday season always reminded me of her. It was her favorite time of year, and she made each year even more special than the last. It was the one time of year she didn’t comment on how much I worked since she was equally busy with shopping and decorating our apartment.

  At least until the cancer diagnosis. She’d started the Christmas charity for kids with cancer two years before she started treatment. And even though it was something that reminded me of her every year, I had to keep her legacy going. It was something I’d keep going for as long as I possibly could. My backing the event gave hope to these families.

  A ringing sound through the speakers in the car broke through my thoughts. I pressed the button on the steering wheel after reading the caller ID on the dashboard.

  “Hello Sam,” I said to my head of staff and security. I managed to leave him in Manhattan this year, and it was a hard-fought argument to do so. I played to his ego and had told him I wanted no one else to keep my affairs in order while I was away.

  “Good afternoon, Michael,” Sam said. “After not hearing from you since yesterday, I wanted to check in.”

  Sam wasn’t much older than me, but he was a fatherly-type of man. Overbearing as hell sometimes but I’d rather he be really good at his job than being a slacker.

  “How’s everything there?” I reached up to brush my hair back.

  “Just peachy. Where are you?”

  I glanced at the nearest exit sign. “I’m about forty-five minutes out. I could make that thirty if you need something.”

  “No, no, Sir,” Sam said quickly. “Take your time.”

  I laughed. Sam hated driving with me. Which I think is another reason he decided to stay in Manhattan. I would have given him time off for the holiday, but he insisted on working through it. He didn’t talk much about his family, but I was under the impression they weren’t close.

  “I wanted to see if you were going out or staying in for dinner tonight,” Sam asked.

  I weighed my options. I really needed to get back to work after being “off” for the past few days. Granted, I was on the phone for much of the time. I needed to sit in my office and pound the keyboard for a few hours.

  “I’ll be staying in tonight. I need to get work done.” My mind flipped to work-mode, and I started mentally organizing my priorities. I had a lot of catching up to do before Monday.

  “Very good, Sir. I can call Fiona in to make you something.”

  “No,” I said quickly. “I gave her the holiday off since I was going to be away. You can order something in.”

  “Do you have a preference? Italian? Chinese?” When my personal chef, Fiona, was working, she tended to keep my meals clean and healthy. Sam knew when we ordered, I went all out, not caring about carbs or salt content. We only lived once, right?

  “Surprise me,” I said. I made enough decisions on a daily basis, even on vacation, and I was never picky about food.

  “I will see you in a short while, Sir,” Sam said, ending the conversation. “Focus on the road now.”

  “Bye, Sam.” I chuckled and ended the call.

  A heavy sigh left me as my thought ran rampage through my mind. While being away from the city was relaxing, I felt more at ease when I was home. My staff was top-notch and I expected nothing less. If only I had an assistant as good as the rest of them. I made a mental note to get in touch with Sandra first thing in the morning about the interviews on Monday. There were a lot of menial tasks that I wanted to pass off to an assistant so I could focus on the new year to come and the upcoming projects. I hadn’t needed an assistant in the past.

  My secretary had always been enough. But with the growth of my company over the past few years, I needed to shift my focus to the bigger projects and pass along the smaller ones to someone who was competent. The qualifications for the role involved business degrees. I didn’t need an assistant to get my coffee. I needed someone to be my right-hand man. I already knew I probably wouldn’t like most of the candidates, but I needed to weed through the interviews to narrow down the scope of the position.

  As much as I didn’t bring personal life into my work, I’d be spending a lot of time with this person and would need to get along in a positive way. I hated distractions, and I’d expect the same attitude from my assistant.

  After mulling over the traits I wanted in an assistant, I shifted that a few positions down on my priority list. I couldn’t do anything about that until Monday. Though something I could work on tonight was reviewing the numbers for next year.

  “Text Sandra,” I said aloud. Then I heard a dinging sound, and an automated voice spoke to me through the car speakers.

  “What would you like to say to Sandra?” it responded.

  “Email me the next quarters figures as soon as possible.”

  The message sent and I settled into my seat. Knowing Sandra, she would already have them and projections for the next year. She was an asset I was grateful to have… most of the time.

  There was a peace surrounding me after coming back from Maine that I enjoyed tremendously, but it would soon fade into oblivion. I had some business goals to hit, and once I had a goal, I rarely took my focus away. I had an insatiable itch to work now, and I couldn’t do much from sitting behind the wheel. So I decided to use technology in my favor and continue to make my way down my mental to-do list for today.

  ***

  When I reached the City, I was surprised that there wasn’t much traffic, even for a holiday weekend. I suspected everyone who had left for the long weekend to start to Fredrick in tonight and tomorrow. I’d made the right choice to come back a day early. Giving myself the time to get back to normal was what I needed to kick off what was projected to be a busy month.

  By the time I reached the front of my building, I’d already had the report from Sandra and several other email request responses. I loved living in this time. I wondered how anyone got any work done before cell phones. And it made long, boring car rides much more productive.

  I left the car idling by the curb and started to organize my things. I shoved my phone and wallet into the case and closed it.

  My door opened. A rush of cold November air enveloped me and I shuddered.

  “Good evening, Sir,” the valet said. He tipped his hat to me and stood dutifully by my door.

  I popped the trunk and got out of the car. I gave him a generous tip and rounded the car to grab my bag and coat. I traveled light. Something that I didn’t realize until Cynthia died. She was the one packing a majority of the bags during any of our vacations. I only needed essentials. I closed the trunk and drummed my hands over the surface of the car. I didn’t know when I’d see her again. I rarely took road trips and while I was home, I had a driver bring me around the City.

  “Take good care of her.”

  “I will, Sir.” The valet nodded again and got into the car.

  I stepped onto the sidewalk and watched my car drive away to the heated parking garage. There she’d be washed and vacuumed so next time I saw her she’d look like a model from the showroom.

  I chuckled to myself. I didn’t remember when I started referring to cars as female. She was precious to me. She was one of the most expensive items I’d ever purchased. I wasn’t ashamed to think of her as an accomplishment. I worked my ass off for my money and status, so I didn’t need to apologize to anyone.

  When my car had disappeared around the corner, I turned to my building. I nodded to the doorman and was pleasantly surprised to see Sam waiting for me in the lobby.

  “Do I have a tracker on me?” I joked.

  He lightly tapped on his temple. “I have a sixth sense about you. And I can tell time.”

  I reached out my hand and he took it, shaking firmly. “Well, it’s good to be back.” I looked around the lobby, nothing had changed on the outside, but something about it felt different. I suspected the feeling would
be gone by the morning.

  “How was the remainder of your drive?” Sam asked.

  “Productive,” I said as we headed for the bank of elevators.

  “Your dinner will arrive in approximately thirty minutes. I thought you’d want to settle in before eating.” He gave me a quick glance to the side. He wanted to ask about the women I’d slept with. He was forever concerned that in my need to sate myself I’d get someone pregnant and we’d end up with more on our hands than we bargained for.

  “Thanks, and stop looking at me like that.” I smirked. I needed a quick shower and then I’d have dinner in my office. I had far too much to get done, and my to-do list was pulling at my attention something horrid.

  “I’m not looking at you in any way, Sir.” He nodded, but kept his eyes forward. “I just want to remind you that I’m here should you need me.”

  “I’m aware. Stop worrying. I’m not twenty anymore. I understand risks better than most.” I stifled a smile. He wasn’t ever going to let up, which I was grateful for. He was my conscience when life got hard, and it did – often.

  “Very well, Sir,” he said and pressed the up button for the private elevator.

  When the door opened, I stepped inside with Sam on my heels. He stuck his access key into the slot for the penthouse and turned. The small light next to the keyhole lit up green.

  The tension in my shoulders increased, but in a good way. I mentally worked through my to-do list and shifted my priorities again. It was a habit of mine to keep myself on track. I shifted a few more items down the list, like the Christmas charity. I wanted my new assistant to spearhead that this year under my close supervision. It would be a test for whoever I decided to hire. And it might help to keep thoughts of Cynthia at bay.

  The elevator doors closed and Cynthia’s smiling face was in the forefront of my mind.

  I’m going to make you proud, baby. I just wish like hell you were still here to be a part of it with me.

  Chapter 2

  Rainey

  “Mommy, what is this thing?” Tanner held up a dark brown blob of an ornament. It slowly spun on the metal hook in front of him. The look of disgust on his normally adorable face was laughable.

  I stood from the couch and walked over to him. “Tanner, honey, Mommy made that when she was in preschool.”

  “It’s really ugly,” he said, curling his lip. “Like super, duper, uper ugly.”

  “It’s sentimental,” I said and ruffled his sandy blonde hair and laughed. There was something precious about the fact that kids didn’t have a filter. Not in the slightest.

  I took the ornament from him and examined the damage that another year in a box took on the fragile piece. I think it was supposed to be in the shape of a bear made from clay. One of the eyes was missing and there were several chips on the surface, but Mom insisted we keep it throughout the years. I knew not to throw it away. It was the first ornament we hung every year. She’d definitely look for it.

  The door in the kitchen squeaked open.

  Speak of the devil…

  “Rainey?” Mom called out.

  “In here,” I said, quickly placing the ornament on the tree. Tanner had already put several ornaments on the tree, so I had to make it look like we’d done that one first.

  The branch bowed under the weight of the ornament, and a few needles dropped to the ground. Tanner insisted we had a real tree every year. I had his Dad, Killian to thank for that. Killian had told Tanner that real trees were the only option for Christmas. Thinking of Killian made my head hurt. He had a stubborn personality that had a way of grating on my nerves.

  And at the impressionable age of six, anything Killian said was final in Tanner’s eyes. And I couldn’t say much. He didn’t see his father often, and I wanted to give him as normal of a childhood as I could even though his parents were separated.

  “Grandma!” Tanner cheered. “Want to help me put the ornaments on the tree?”

  Mom stood in the doorway, holding a plastic container in her hands. She narrowed her eyes at the tree and seemed satisfied when they landed on the ancient bear slash blob ornament. She put the container down in the kitchen then came back into the living room, raking her fingers through her short blonde hair as if the walk upstairs had ruined her perfectly coiffed style.

  “Of course I do.” She smiled down at my son.

  “Let me warn you now…” he paused and glanced back at me before leaning in toward my mother and lowering his voice. “Some of these are ugly. Really, really ugly, Grandma.”

  She laughed before turning to me. “I don’t understand why you’re setting up so soon,” she said, her arms folded across her chest. “That tree might not last until Christmas.”

  “Tanner insisted that we get the tree as soon as Thanksgiving was over.” I shrugged. In a way it was a good idea, but my mother was probably right. I wasn’t going to last. I promised myself I was going to get a job before Christmas. By decorating early, that was one less thing I had to do while I focused on interviews.

  “I’m going to water it every day!” Tanner bounced around excitedly. He’d already hung about ten ornaments in a small clump on the tree right at his eye level, and we were running out of the - quickly.

  “Honey spread them out a little more.” I ruffled his hair.

  “Let me help you, dear,” Mom said and started for the ornament box. Most of the ornaments were from her collection, but she saved most of the fragile ones for her fake tree that would go up later in December. She was always last minute, but maybe it was an activity that she and Tanner could do while I was interviewing. Or working. I hoped for the latter.

  Mom had to squeeze by me since the room was too small for three people, a tree and numerous boxes of decorations.

  “Grandma, you’re tall, how about you put on the ornaments near the top and I’ll do the bottom ones,” Tanner said.

  “That’s a good plan,” Mom said, digging into the box between them.

  I sat back down on the couch and watched them put a few on the tree. Mom tried to give Tanner a history lesson on each piece, but he wasn’t paying attention. He frequently had that blank expression on his face when I was trying to tell him something important too.

  “Do you want some coffee?” I asked. I already knew the answer before she said it. Mom was a caffeine addict.

  “Do you need to ask?” she replied, giving me one of her famous looks. My mother could convey a how range of emotions with one of the many expression she loved to use.

  I went into the kitchen and pulled out a filter and the can of coffee. There was just enough for one pot, so I jotted down a note to pick up more. My grocery list was getting larger each week and with no paycheck, I’d have to borrow more money from my parents. I knew they didn’t mind, but I hated doing it. I made a mental note to go downstairs to use their computer and find at least three more job openings this week. I dumped the remainder of the coffee into the filter and filled the water reservoir.

  While the coffee was brewing, I glanced at the food container on the counter and peeled the top away from one corner. The scent of the lasagna made my stomach growl. It was still warm. I grabbed a fork from the drawer and took a quick bite. So delicious! I quickly covered the food again and placed it in my refrigerator for tonight. I was afraid of eating the whole damn thing if I saw it again.

  I walked back to the living room as if I hadn’t sneaked a taste.

  “What’s Dad up to today?” I asked, opening the next box of decorations. Tinsel burst from the stuffed box and I tried to untangle it.

  “He’s checking some job.” Mom snapped her fingers and I looked up at her. She mimed swiping her hand over her hair.

  I did the same and realized I had a chunk of lasagna in my hair. Busted. I smiled at her and tied my hair up into a messy bun. It was always in my face. I needed a cut and coloring really bad, but that wasn’t in the budget this month.

  She rolled her eyes. “You never could wait.”

  “It’s
so good, though, Mom.”

  “Well, you know how your father is with leftovers. I need to give it to someone.”

  Dad hated leftovers. It was a repeated argument in their house. At least Tanner and I would benefit from Dad’s pickiness. Though I had an idea she made two lasagnas instead of one, knowing we would be able to eat it for a few days.

  “Can I have some too?” Tanner asked. He was a scrawny kid, but he could eat more than me. And he did on a regular basis.

  “No, we’re saving that for dinner,” I said.

  He stuck out his little bottom lip.

  “But if you’re hungry, you can have a snack,” I amended.

  “Cookies!” Tanner pumped his fists in the air and hopped over the ornament box and ran into the kitchen.

  “No more than two!” I laughed and resumed his ornament-hanging duties.

  “Any luck on the job front?” Mom asked now that Tanner was out of the room. The kid was like a sponge and repeated everything he heard. I didn’t need him to say anything at school about my work situation. Or worse, to Killian.

  I picked out one of the more fragile ornaments, a large red and green ball, and hung it close to the top.

  “I found a job this morning that looks pretty good. And I’m qualified. I’m going to check on it Monday.” Nerves raced through the center of my chest. Another job interview, another try, another possible failure.

  “Well you just graduated in May so don’t worry if you can’t get something.”

  “Mom, I do worry,” I said honestly. I expected bigger things for myself at twenty-nine. And for six months I’d been working my ass off to find a good job. “I’m not twenty-one and fresh out of college. I have a kid and I need to find my own place.”