Made to Riot_A Motorcycle Club Romance_The Ancestors MC

by Nicole Fox

  “It’s people,” said Donny. “It’s human trafficking.”

  Fuck.

  “You’re kidding me,” I said. “You’re fucking with me, you little asshole.”

  “Money was too good, they said,” said Donny, shaking his head. “These other gangs, they bring in girls from Eastern Europe, sell ’em to rich fuckers who do God-knows-what with them. And the Ancestors get a fat cut to let them run through our territory. They even let ’em have fun with some of the girls, too.”

  I wanted to put a pair of rounds right in Donny’s goddamn head. Only my word kept him alive.

  “Your old man, he didn’t want none of it. He told them that he wouldn’t be around if that’s how they were gonna run things. There was a big fight one day, and they almost came to blows about it. Finally, they came to an agreement: he left without a word, but in exchange, you got sponsored for membership.”

  “Why the fuck would he want me to be a member of a crew that does this kind of shit?” I asked.

  “I think he figured that you’d maybe be able to change things from the inside out.”

  I was furious; I couldn’t believe my crew would get into such scummy shit. At the same time, however, I felt a sense of pride for my old man, knowing now that he couldn’t be a part of this racket.

  “The bosses, though,” he said.

  “What about them?” I said, raising my voice to a roar.

  “They knew what your pops had in mind. They knew that with your name you could make your way up in the crew, maybe be a boss yourself one day. And they knew that this would just mean more problems down the road.”

  I clenched my teeth hard, knowing now just what he was going to say next.

  “That’s why they told me to ice you.”

  Betrayed. Betrayed by my own crew. And not just by some fuck like Donny looking for a sideways promotion; I was getting stabbed in the back by the elders of my fucking tribe. I’d pledged my life to the Ancestors, and they’d thanked me by trying to have me snuffed out so I wouldn’t cause problems. This wasn’t the crew I knew. My pops had been right to leave. I only wished he’d taken me with him.

  Right now, at this moment, all I could think about was getting on my bike, going straight to the club, and putting a round right through each of those asshole’s eyes.

  They’d pay for this.

  “Please don’t kill me,” begged Donny, sensing my rage.

  “Where’s my bike?” I asked through clenched teeth.

  “In, in the garage,” he said. “It got kinda fucked up in the crash, but it should be good to go. You’re not gonna kill me, right? I did everything you asked, and none of the bosses know that you know.”

  I considered what he said. Then, a thought occurred to me.

  “They know you’re planning to kill me, right?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Then I want you to call the bosses and tell them that I’m dead. Tell them that I’m dead and that you want to meet me in person tomorrow night.”

  “Are you … gonna kill them?” asked Donny, his voice fearful.

  “None of your business,” I said. “Nothing that happens with the Ancestors from here on out is any of your goddamn business.”

  Donny nodded, understanding.

  “Now, call.”

  He slipped his phone out of his pocket and called one of the bosses. I wasn’t sure who was on the other line, but it didn’t matter.

  “Yeah, I got him.”

  …

  “Ran him off the road.”

  …

  “Yeah, the girl too. But listen, I’m gonna be tied up with, uh, odds and ends for today—you know. But we need to meet up tomorrow; I found out some shit that you all are gonna want to know about.”

  …

  “See you then.”

  He turned the phone off and looked back at me, waiting for something like permission.

  “Get dressed. Get on your bike. Go west. I see you again, you’re fuckin’ dead,” I said, my gaze locked on his eyes.

  Donny nodded in understanding before scooping his clothes off from the floor and running out of the room.

  “And don’t forget to change the bandages!” Anya yelled out.

  Ever the nurse.

  A moment passed while I considered everything that had just happened, everything that I’d just learned.

  “What are you going to do?” asked Anya.

  “What do you think?” I said. “I’m gonna kill them all.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Anya

  I let out a sharp gasp as I stepped out of the room, my eyes settling on the scene of bloodshed in the hallways of the bar. Four men, the ones who’d killed Spider and run Bryce and me off of the road were lying here and there, gunshots riddling their bodies. By instinct, I dropped to my knees and took the pulse of the biker nearest to me and took his pulse. Sure enough, he was gone.

  “You … umm, didn’t mess around,” I said as we stepped over the bodies and down the hall.

  “It was them or me. Them or us.”

  I was struck by just how used to killing I was becoming. Sure, I’d seen my share of blood, gore, and death in the hospital, but this was something else; this was like I was in the middle of a war zone.

  We made our way to the garage where, sure enough, Bryce’s bike was parked. Aside from some major scuffs on the side, it looked to be in pretty good shape.

  “What are we gonna do?” I asked as Bryce made a slow circle around his bike, inspecting the damage.

  “Well, we’ve got a day before the meeting,” he said, not raising his eyes from the bike. “That’s the next time that I know for sure that the bosses will all be in the same place. Perfect time to take them all out at once.”

  “And what about until then?”

  He thought about it for a second, apparently not having considered what he’d do when not running for his life.

  “I don’t know about you, but I could go for a hot shower.”

  That sounded like heaven. Bryce wheeled his bike out of the garage, and I followed him out. Once outside, I saw that we were in some rural area, trees all around us, a small, unpaved road leading into the woods.

  “Your phone work?”

  I nodded.

  “See where we are.”

  I pulled up my maps app and after taking some time to load due to the reception, I saw that we were about a half out outside of Atlanta, in the opposite direction of Adeline. Bryce nodded and hopped on his bike. I got on the back and wrapped my arms tight around him. As he revved the engine and pulled us out onto the road, and as I placed my head against his back, I realized how horrible it was for him to be gone, even for a short time.

  How had I fallen so hard in such a short time for a man like him? I knew that high-adrenaline situations could make people feel stronger emotions for one another than they otherwise might not, but there was something different about Bryce. He was unlike any man I’d ever met.

  I savored the ride back to Atlanta, taking in the cool, calm air, knowing what lay ahead of us. Part of me wanted to head back to Adeline, back to the life that I’d known, but I just couldn’t. I couldn’t go back to that house with my brothers and leave Bryce to figure this all out on his own. I’d come this far, and I was going to see things through.

  Soon, we arrived back at Bryce’s apartment.

  “Wait here,” he said as we stood outside the door to his place.

  He opened the door and stepped inside. He walked through the space with careful steps, his gun in his hand, looking around to make sure that no one was waiting in ambush. Once he was satisfied, he hit the lights and gestured for me to come in.

  He clicked the safety on the gun and tossed it to the side, as though he were ridding himself of the events of the last several hours. He plopped down on the couch, staring into the middle distance as he sat back.

  “Goddamn, I need a drink,” he said.

  For once, I agreed. At his liquor rack, I took out two glasses, pou
ring a measure of whiskey into one and vodka into the other. I brought the drink over to Bryce and sat down next to him. Looking down at the glass in his hand, he scoffed and shook his head before throwing the drink back and downing it in a quick swig.

  “How’ve you been around me for this long and not known just how I like my booze?” he asked, a small smirk forming on his lips.

  I smiled and shook my head as I got up to pour him another drink, this one stiffer than the last. Looking back at Bryce, I could tell that despite his joking around, he was deep in thought. Sitting down next to him and handing him his drink, I put my hand on his back.

  “You want to talk about it?” I asked.

  “No,” came the response, quick and sharp.

  I should’ve known.

  “Come on,” I said, deciding to try my luck, “after all we’ve been through you can open up just a little.”

  His jaw worked underneath the stubbled skin of his cheeks as he thought the matter over. Taking a sip of his whiskey, he stood up and walked over to the massive windows of the apartment, the nighttime city beyond a backdrop behind his muscular frame.

  “I just can’t believe my own crew would do that to me. I can’t believe that they’d get involved in that kind of bullshit.”

  He turned back to me, taking a slow sip of his drink.

  “The Ancestors have been around since Prohibition, and we made our name in the south running booze. This was back before even my pop’s time. He told me that he’d heard from the old timers who’d run whiskey that there was a code in the crew, that though we might run booze and guns, we’d never be the scourge on the city that the other crews were—the ones who got involved in the hard shit, the ones who really made life hell for you regular folk.”

  “But that’s all over now,” I said, understanding.

  “Looks that way. Figures that we’d only be able to resist the easy money for so long. I just didn’t think that the bosses would go to these lengths to score some fast cash. But then again, if we don’t then other crews will.”

  I watched Bryce closely as he spoke. Though he was revealing what he was concerned about, I could sense that he was still holding back the anger that he was truly feeling. But I didn’t want to push him too much.

  “What about when this is all over?” I asked. “What then?”

  “When this is all over?” He let out a dry laugh as he brought his drink up to his lips. “No point in thinking that far until all this is over and done with. No sense in planning for the future when you might be in a shallow grave at the end of the next day.”

  “But you can’t think that way,” I said, protesting. “Don’t you have any dreams? Surely you can’t just be thinking about revenge non-stop?”

  “Trust me, when you’re this fuckin’ angry, thinking about revenge constantly isn’t that hard.”

  Then again, maybe he could.

  He took another drink, now seeming to consider the question.

  “Dreams for the future, huh? What kinda dreams you got, little lady?”

  I froze in my seat, not prepared to be put on the spot like that.

  “Oh, um, my dreams?” I asked. “I don’t know …”

  Bryce let out another laugh.

  “Come on,” he said, a broad smile forming on his face. “You’re sitting here telling me all about how important dreams are, and you can’t think of a single one you have?”

  I felt a hot blush form on my face.

  “I mean, they’re stupid. Well, boring at least.”

  Bryce sat back in his seat, his drink in front of his lips.

  “You show me yours and I’ll show you mine.”

  I couldn’t pass up that kind of deal.

  “Well, like I said, it’s not very exciting. I guess I just imagine myself getting a nice little house outside of the city, close enough that I could drive in to see a show or have nice dinner out. I’d live with a good man who took care of me, maybe I’d have a garden in back where I could grow herbs and flowers. And there’d be enough space to relax in the sun on nice days. I imagine sitting out there on a Saturday afternoon, maybe in a hammock, a glass of iced tea next to me, a book open on my chest, listening to the breeze in the trees, not a care in the world.”

  Bryce said nothing, letting me do all the talking.

  “Oh, and there’d be a dog. Maybe a Weimaraner—something big and cute. Not sure on the exact breed.”

  Bryce looked away, seemingly letting the image settle in his mind.

  “Peace and quiet, huh?” he asked.

  “Absolutely.”

  A moment passed.

  “Now,” I said. “You show me yours.”

  “I wasn’t kidding about not planning for the future,” he said. “In my line of work, you live and die by being as present in the moment as possible. I might not’ve gotten out of that ambush in the alley if I’d been thinking about my, uh, five-year plan, you know?”

  “Well, I promise I’m not going to come at you with a knife right now,” I said with a smile. “Think about it.”

  “Well,” he said, “I guess I’ve always kinda wanted to own my own shop.”

  “Your own shop?” I asked. “Like an arts and crafts store?”

  He shot me a sly smirk.

  “No, I mean my own bike shop. I love to ride, if you haven’t figured that out already. And I guess, thinking about it, being alone in my garage, some good music playing, drinking a cold beer on a Saturday afternoon, working on my bike … it’s really the only time I can chill out, you know? Not be thinking about life.”

  “Be at peace,” I said, putting it in my own words.”

  “Something like that. I’d have my own place, maybe a few other trustworthy guys who’re good with a wrench. I’d make big bucks off those suburban weekend warriors bringing in their fancy hogs for a tune-up, maybe shoot the shit with some real riders every now and then. I could get my hands dirty without having to, you know, actually get my hands dirty.”

  “Leave the criminal life behind,” I said.

  “Crazy to think about. I’d always imagined that my pops and I would be running the crew someday, but I guess life always has other plans in mind.”

  “Best you can do is adapt.”

  “’Spose so.”

  I took another sip of my drink as I sat back, letting the two images blur together in my mind. I imagined waking up from a refreshing nap in my backyard on a Saturday afternoon, coming into my home and hearing Bryce working in the garage. I could bring him something cool to drink while he worked on his bike, and maybe when he was all done, we could go for a long, easy ride in the countryside, my arms wrapped around his body as we drove for hours without a care.

  Sounded pretty nice to me, but who knew if a man like Bryce could ever settle down to enjoy something like that. And who knew if he’d even have anything to do me if we got through the next day. I guess there was only one way to find out.

  Soon, my drink was empty, and a mild, pleasant buzz warmed my body. I looked over at Bryce, whose own body was dirty with grime, sweat, and a little blood. He was a wreck, I could tell, but he seemed to think that all he needed was a few minutes rest and a little bit of whiskey and he’d be right as rain again. He was tough, that was certain, but no one was invincible; he’d crash and burn living this hard one of these days.

  “So,” I said, leaning in close to him, “how about that shower?”

  He turned to me with a wicked grin.

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Anya

  My eyes moved up and down Bryce as we stood in the spacious bathroom, the room filling with hot steam by the moment. Placing my hands on his hips, I grabbed onto the hem of his shirt and pulled it up, slowly revealing the sculpted body that I just couldn’t get enough of. My eyes clung to his abs, which were slick with sweat, before moving up to the contours of his hard, square pecs. Finally, as I pulled the shirt over his head, my gaze slid along his shoulders and arms and
I felt myself grow hot at the sight of them.

  Bruises and small cuts marred his otherwise perfect body, and all I wanted to do was make him feel better.

  Bryce began on my clothes, stripping me slowly out of my shirt and bra, his eyes lingering with hunger on my bare breasts. He moved closed to me, placing his hands on my hips and kissing me softly just behind my ear, the sensation sending tingles down my spine. The hushed spray of the shower, and the feeling of hot water pouring down my body were almost more enticing than Bryce’s touch.