by Lexie Davis
Vampire was right. Dammit. Ryker pulled off a glove and rubbed his forehead. He didn’t have any proof of Ghost other than a few pictures he’d snapped with his phone. There was no way that his father would have approved of it, and he knew the fucking club didn’t. The stupid bastard would probably talk his way out of it, though. He always fucking did.
“Take it to the club,” Vampire commented. “Let the process handle it the way it should.”
Ryker nodded. He could play by the rules, but when dealing with rogues, the rules went out the window. He got on his bike and led the way back to the club. He avoided Hartford Street to the best of his ability. He didn’t need to go by the free clinic just to dredge up the past. He might be tempted to pull his fucking bike in and stop by just to say hi.
He didn’t need that.
His anger pushed him harder. He became more and more aggressive without Ella in his life. She made him think that there was something better out there for him. That he could actually be something different than what his grandfather and father had drilled into his head from an early age. The reality was that he needed to man up and face the inevitable. He was meant for this life and he had to do it right. He’d stopped using drugs, again, choosing instead to handle the beat downs. Razor didn’t seem to mind it too much since most of the men he fought against in the club had lost at least once to him in the boxing ring. He became especially mean when he was on coke, but he hoped that was behind him. His head was more focused, his life more calm.
When they got to the club, Ryker called a meeting with the ranking members of the club. Ghost had yet to arrive back and Ryker couldn’t help but wonder if he was out doing his trade-off with Young Blood. He entered their meeting room, taking his spot to the right of his father. He laid his phone on the table before them.
“Ghost has been making deals with Young Blood behind our backs,” Ryker announced. “He’s been trading a kilo of our coke for guns from Young Blood and they’ve been flipping the coke to steal our business. They get their new customers hooked on the good shit we sell and then trade off for the dirty shit they sell.”
Razor narrowed his eyes. “Those are some pretty big claims. Where’s your evidence.”
Ryker clicked a few buttons on his phone and pulled up the pictures he’d taken. After Razor looked at them, he passed the phone around the table. It was one thing to go against his father like he’d done in the past. It was something completely different to go against the club and take money out of the club members’ pockets.
“Well, what are we going to do?” Sonny, the club’s long-standing treasurer, asked. “That little dip in income is costing us a large decrease.”
Razor glanced over at Ryker. “How did you find out about this?”
“I went on a run with him. We carried five kilos each to Torch and he only dropped four. Torch confirmed it when I asked him. Said he’d only brought four in for the past three runs. So I followed him. I wanted to know what the fuck he was doing with the missing kilo.”
He nodded. “I’ll handle it. Is there any other business to discuss?”
Ryker stared at his father. “You’ll handle it?”
Razor arched an eyebrow at him. Questioning him in front of everyone was a bad idea. He knew that in the back of his mind, but the words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them. He knew his father wasn’t going to do anything. There wasn’t another member in the club that was quite the lap dog for him like Ghost.
“I’ll handle it.” He glanced around the table. “Sonny, pay everyone and let’s get the fuck out of here. I need to ride.”
They divvied up their money for the week and dispersed. Ryker pocketed his phone and glanced over at Vampire, who simply stared back at him. It had gone just about how he’d expected it to. The club was starting to grow concerned about the leadership. If his father kept doing shady stuff, he’d get kicked off his throne.
Ghost entered the club with a fucking smile on his face. “What’s up, fuckers?”
He slapped Superman on the back and Ryker nearly laughed when his friend reared back to slug the idiot. Ghost backed off and walked around him, heading straight to the bar for a drink.
“Where are the bitches tonight? I need to get laid.” He poured himself a scotch and turned toward the rest of the club.
Razor pulled out his gun and cocked it. “Have you been trading one brick of coke for guns behind the club’s back?”
Ghost stopped drinking and set his glass aside. “Where did you hear that from?”
“Answer the question.” Razor put the gun in the small of his back and pulled his knife next.
Ryker stared at his old man, knowing exactly what that move meant. Razor always carried a gun, but when he meant business, he used a knife and it was gory. The club members hung back and watched, fascinated that his father was actually going to do something for once.
“I didn’t do anything.” Ghost slipped from the stool and grabbed the gun at his back to point at Razor. “Back off, man.”
Razor kept moving forward. “Or what? You shoot me, any one of my brothers behind me will kill you next.”
Ghost’s hand shook. “Not all of them. Some are more loyal to me than you.”
Razor gave him a deadly smile. “Yeah? Which ones?”
He glanced around the room, desperately looking for someone to stand up for him. When nobody did, Razor taunted him. “What? No one stepping up for you, Ghost? Maybe they don’t like you screwing them over. Or maybe they just got tired of hearing your fucking mouth.”
“I didn’t do nothing.” Ghost pointed the gun at Razor. “And if you come near me with that thing, I’ll blow your fucking brains out.”
Razor ran his finger along the blade, caressing it like he would a lover. “I trusted you, Ghost. I trusted you to have the club’s best interest at all times. But you betrayed me. You betrayed the club. You stole from us for your own fucking gain and there is a price to pay for it.”
Watching, Ryker thought about what his father said. A price to pay for leaving the club. It was rare that a member left the Roaming Devils. Once they let someone in, they were a lifer. You lived, breathed, and died a club member. If someone wronged the club, death came a little sooner for them.
Ryker watched as his father pounced, grabbing Ghost by the neck before he could shoot off any rounds. The struggle forced him to drop the gun and Razor took the leverage to slide the blade along Ghost’s carotid artery. Blood spilled out of the man’s neck and down his father’s arm, pooling at their feet as his body went limp. He always had to be fucking gory and now was no different. He dropped Ghost’s body, watching with coldness as he bled out on the floor. He kicked the bastard for good measure and glanced down at himself.
“Somebody clean this up.” He looked up and met Ryker’s eyes. “Looks like we need to vote a new VP in.”
Ryker knew what he was thinking and it was one hell of a way to move up in rank. His father wanted him at his side, ruling the table with him. He’d done it with his grandfather and it only seemed natural that Ryker would do it beside his father. Shit, he didn’t know what to think about it. The idea hadn’t even crossed his mind when he’d discovered Ghost’s secret. He just wanted the dickhead gone.
“We’ll vote tonight,” Razor said, walking toward the back. “I need to get cleaned up and I’m taking a ride. Everyone needs to meet around ten. We’ll have the vote then.”
With that, the crowd dispersed and the prospects got the job of cleaning up the mess. Vampire walked over to him. “I guess that went a little different than you’d thought.”
Ryker blew out a breath. “Mayhem at its finest.”
He didn’t know where he stood on everyone’s list for VP but he sure as hell knew that when somebody new took over a rank, it took a while for the members to get used to the authority. Who the hell was he going to have to kiss ass with now?
Chapter Eight
Ella curled up on her sofa with Netflix playing, planning to binge
watch the afternoon away. She tested positive for strep, so she couldn’t work until she wasn’t contagious anymore. She felt like a fire-breathing dragon and crunched ice cubes to keep her throat from drying out. It hurt to swallow, but she’d survive.
A fist pounding at the door made her cringe. She didn’t want visitors, not that she normally had a lot. Ever since her father got out of the hospital, he and her mother stopped by each time she refused to answer her phone. They didn’t quite get that she was a busy doctor with a non-stop work ethic, but thought she carried on a regular nine-to-five job like everyone else. She got up and opened the door, smiling at her mother, who held a bowl of homemade chicken noodle soup and a piece of chocolate cake.
“How are you feeling?” she asked, coming in and heading straight to the little kitchen.
“I’m okay.”
“You don’t look okay.” Her mother reached for her forehead. “You have a fever. You need to be in bed.”
“I’m fine, Mom. Really.”
Her mother didn’t listen. “Come on. I’ll tuck you in and let myself out so you can rest. Do you want me to get you some medicine?”
Ella wrapped her arms around her mom, calming her down. She rested her head on her shoulder and closed her eyes. Her mom squeezed her and smoothed her hand along her back.
“I love you, Mom. Thanks for bringing me chicken noodle soup.”
“Anytime, sweetie. Are you okay by yourself? You can come home with me. Just until you feel better. Or I can stay with you. Daddy won’t care.”
Ella smiled. “No. I’m fine. I had an antibiotic shot earlier. It’s kicking in, so I should be fine in a couple of hours.”
Her mother brushed her hair from her face. “You can always call me if you need me. Any time of the day or night.”
“I know.” She walked her mother to the door. “I’m probably going to watch TV and go to bed. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Her mother hugged her one last time, kissing her cheek before she moved away. “Call me if you need me.”
“I will.”
When she finally left, Ella took a deep breath and pressed her forehead against the closed door, not bothering with all five locks. She didn’t want to tell her mother that she felt drained. Her energy was wiped out and she felt horrible. After getting the bowl and the cake, she carried them to her coffee table and curled up on the couch.
She watched a few episodes of a new series before deciding to go to bed. She felt horrible and the thought of moving, even the short distance between the sofa and the bed, was too much. She didn’t pull off her sweats as she fell face-first onto the mattress. The softness gave her instant comfort. She closed her eyes and curled up with her pillow.
Sometime later a knock at the door woke her. She groaned and got up. She undid the one lock and frowned when she saw a Roaming Devils member on the other side.
“You’re Ella, right?”
“What do you want?”
“It’s Ryker. He’s hurt. Knife wound.” The guy glanced around. “Can you help him?”
Ella stared at him, trying to process what he had said. Ryker was hurt? Her heart sped up as panic set in. A million scenarios ran through her mind, with varying degrees of injury. A small part of her wondered why they didn’t go to the hospital. She knew that he liked to avoid questioning. It should have made her feel used, but the idea that he trusted her enough to take care of him made her feel anything but. “Of course. Where is he?”
The guy whistled and she watched as two of the Roaming Devils rushed up the stairs with a bloody Ryker in their arms. They took him into her apartment and put him on the table. The gaping wound had bled through his white t-shirt. He held his hands over it, groaning in pain. He closed his eyes, avoiding her.
“Do I even want to know what happened?” Ella walked over to him, still feeling horrible from her own sickness. The least he could do was tell her what had happened to cause him to bleed all over her kitchen table. After everything, some explanations would have been nice.
“No.” Ryker groaned.
“Another member didn’t like his change in rank,” the one member said. Three Roaming Devils she didn’t know stared at her, obviously untrusting.
“Look, I’m sick. Stop staring at me. I don’t normally look like this.”
Having no contact for a while was bad enough. He consumed her thoughts, and when she finally stopped thinking about him every second of the day, he showed up on her doorstep, needing her help again. She yanked up his shirt and inspected the gash. The first step was to stop the bleeding. There were so many precautions she needed to take in an effort to keep from spreading disease, but her mind barely comprehended those steps. She needed a mask and gloves. The thought of how he’d gotten stabbed floated through her mind even though relief filled her that he was okay.
“Good to see you’re still alive,” Ella remarked. “It’s going to need a few stitches. I think I have a suture kit. I had to get some from the hospital to take to the clinic.”
She rubbed her sweaty forehead, feeling feverish. Her throat ached and she knew the infection was kicking her ass right now. “Will one of you get me something to drink?”
“Yeah. Sure.” One of the men left her and disappeared into the small kitchen. She moved to the bag she had next to the door and grabbed a suture kit, mask, and gloves from it. When she came back, she snatched the floor lamp from behind the recliner to assist her.
“Here.” The guy handed her some ice water and she thanked him for it.
“Uh, what you’ve got … it’s not contagious, is it?”
“It’s strep.” She swallowed. Her throat was on fire. She sipped from the ice water, then set it aside. “I’m fighting a fever. It’s highly contagious, which is why I’m trying to combat this the best I can.”
Ryker stared at her. “We shouldn’t have come. I told you this was a fucking bad idea.”
“It’s fine.” She pulled the mask on, then the gloves. After dabbing at his wound with gauze, she opened the suture kit. It only took her a few minutes to sew him up. Fortunately, the knife hadn’t sliced any vital organs. “You’re as good as new. You’ll probably be sore for the next few days.”
“Thanks.” Ryker sat up, groaning. The guys helped him off the table while Ella cleaned up the trash. He glanced back at her. “Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t look well.”
“I feel horrible.” She tossed the trash and went to find some fever reducer. “I’m fine, though.”
She really didn’t want to talk to him. With him stopping by, she didn’t even know what to think. He hadn’t spoken to her since he’d broken down in her arms at the club. He didn’t appear to be high or struggling with drugs at the moment, but she couldn’t really tell. Ryker sent his friends outside and hung around, waiting for her to come back to the living room.
“What?”
The compassion in his eyes surprised her. “Thanks.”
She nodded and swallowed her pills. “Shut the door on your way out.”
“Yeah. Okay.” He walked to the door and opened it.
Ella climbed back into bed, shivering. She closed her eyes. The next thing she felt was a hand stroking her back. She rolled over and stared at Ryker. He’d come back in and was making himself comfortable on her bed.
“You’re not okay.” Ryker pulled her blanket tighter around her. “I don’t think you should be alone either.”
“And you think I want you here?” Incredulity filled her tone. He was the last person that needed to stay with her.
“Maybe not.” Ryker swallowed. “But considering your state, there’s not much you can do to get me to leave.” He kissed her clammy cheek. “Get some sleep. I’ll stay on the couch.”
He left her for the couch and she found herself not caring. She closed her eyes and drifted off.
Throughout the night, she battled with her fever. She shivered no matter how many blankets covered her. Ryker watched her from the sofa for a while before he finally got up. She
didn’t know what he planned to do with stitches in his side, but he moved in behind her, pulling her body against his. The heat was an instant comfort. He smoothed her hair back and tucked the blanket tighter around her. It was an odd gesture from him. Bikers didn’t normally take the time to care for others and she didn’t expect him, out of everyone in her life, to be the one willing to put his life on hold to make sure she was okay. When she thought she knew him, he surprised her. Her throat burned every time she swallowed. Believing something else went on between them was dangerous. The longer she entertained the fantasy of them being together, the more she’d convince herself that it was possible. He didn’t say anything, but simply held her, letting his body heat seep into her skin.
When Ella woke the next morning, Ryker was on the sofa, shirt and shoes off, watching TV. She sat up and frowned. “I thought you were a dream.”
Glancing away from the TV, he studied her a moment. In a gruff voice, he said, “No. Sorry.”
Part of her wanted to jump into his arms. Deep inside she knew that he’d hold her. He’d comfort her and shelter her. It was a damn good feeling too. But the other part of her wanted to kick him to the curb. Trouble followed him wherever he went and after their last meeting, she had no business allowing him to get so close to her. She had no business wanting to be that intimate with him. Standing, she walked past him to the bathroom. So what was she going to do? Her mind ached from the constant juggling of her thoughts. At some point in time, she needed to make a decision and stick with it.
Ella stared at herself in the mirror. Maybe his compassion came from how awful she looked. If she found herself looking like she did, she’d pity herself too. Her blonde hair was messy and needed to be washed. Dark circles had formed beneath her eyes, which definitely didn’t convey a come-hither look. Not that that was what she really went for. Her nose and forehead looked like she’d smeared baby oil on them.