Lonely Rider - The Box Set: A Motorcycle Club Romance - The Complete Series

by Melissa Devenport

Trace thought that he’d have to find Bone either in his office, deep in the heart of the club, or in his rooms. It turned out, he was sitting at the bar on a decrepit stool, a half empty bottle of whiskey in his hand. He was upright, eyes glassy, but wild, dark hair mussed, shoulders forward. Even drunk off his rocker, he was still easily the most intimidating man Trace had ever met.

  It was his eyes. They were dead. Devoid of life. Devoid of emotion. Devoid of anything at all. Bone lived for blood. He lived for vengeance. He lived for the thrill of taking back what was his and taking what wasn’t. He lived for the road, a bike roaring between his legs. He lived for power. If he didn’t have it, he’d stop at nothing to gain it.

  “Bone.” Trace slid into the bar stool beside him. Already he was wary, his heart beating faster, adrenaline rocketing through his veins, the hair on the backs of his arms on edge. “I have information.”

  Bone lifted the bottle and took a long pull like Trace wasn’t even there. He slammed it down after and wiped his hand with the back of his mouth. “It better be fucking good,” he growled. His voice was no different drunk than it was sober. Menacing. Frightening. A horrible growl that sent the fear of god straight to a man’s soul.

  “You have your rat,” Trace said. “I have something else for you.”

  Bone’s frown gave away his interest. His eyes burned through Trace. “You want something. I can tell. Spit it the fuck out then. I haven’t got all night.” He feigned boredom. It was obvious he wanted to know what Trace had to say, but Bone had never been the kind of man to give up the upper hand.

  “I want a trade. A life for a life.”

  Bone stiffened. His leather jacket crackled as he shifted, his hands folding over themselves on the bar. It was a casual pose, too casual, and Trace wasn’t fooled. He braced. He had a knife strapped to his leg, just above his boot. He wouldn’t be able to go for it on time. The gun at his back was a better bet. He knew how fast Bone was though. The guy could put a bullet through his head before he’d even get his hand halfway to his own weapon.

  Instead of going for his firearm and killing Trace on the spot, Bone turned away. It was eerie, not being able to see the guy’s face, but Trace was good at reading body language and Bone’s spoke of deadly violence not far into the future.

  Trace knew he had to push on or he was going to become a corpse carried out the back fucking door. He didn’t want to drown in his own blood. He couldn’t. He couldn’t give up. He wanted his fresh start. He’d already decided he’d go to Sandy again. Beg her again if he had to. He’d find a way to prove to her that he belonged in her life. He had to have her by his side. His life wasn’t worth living without her. Without his son.

  He was a father. He wanted a chance to prove to himself that he could do it. That he could be something other than what he was and what he thought he’d always be.

  He wanted that chance.

  “I have information,” he began. “But first, I need your word. A life for a life. Mine for yours.”

  There was no other way to say it, but just to come straight out and offer it up. Trace thought he was ready, but nothing could have prepared him for the explosion beside him.

  Bone erupted out of his seat. The bar stool fell to the ground, a dull thud drowned out by the rush of leather. Trace tried to go for his gun, but he already knew it was too late. Bone slammed him down on the bar so hard that all the air rushed out of his lungs. His shoulders took the brunt of it and his neck snapped back painfully. He was pinned, Bone’s meaty hand around his throat. He stared up into the blood shot, wild eyes of the man he’d sworn allegiance to. Metal rings flashed and glimmered in the overhead lights on the very hand that was wrapped around Trace’s throat.

  Garbled sounds came out of his mouth as he rasped for air, but couldn’t find it. His lungs burned and tears spilled out the corners of his eye. The pressure building behind his eyes made his fucking eyeballs feel like they were going to pop right out of the sockets. His throat was being crushed, slowly, methodically. Bone knew what he was doing. He liked to watch the life leave a man’s eyes.

  “You want out?” he spat, literally spraying spittle all over Trace’s face. “You fucking want out of this? I’ll give you a way out. The only way that anyone leaves here. You think you can barter your way out? You fucking idiot. You’ve gone soft, just like the rest of them. You’re going to go out, just like Big Ted, just like the others who think they can cross me and trade information for a ticket out of here. This isn’t some fucking school girl party. I’m the Prez. If you can’t give your life for this organization, then your life is forfeit.”

  Trace’s vision darkened at the corners. His lungs felt like someone had ripped them out while he was still alive and filled them full of fiery coals. His throat was about to cave in from the pressure of Bone’s unrelenting hold.

  His last thoughts were of Sandra. Her beautiful face, her silky soft hair, her cornflower blue eyes. He thought of Alex, the son who would never know his father.

  He’d tried. He’d fucking tried and like so much of his life, he’d failed.

  Bone’s body jerked sharply in front of Trace. He couldn’t see it, but he felt the jolt. The horrible death grip on his neck relaxed and just enough that some of the black faded from Trace’s vision. Though his throat still ached and his lungs were on fire, though he was half fucking gone himself, his eyes focused and he watched, in horror, as a trickle of bloody spittle flowed between Bone’s parted lips. The terrible look of shocked surprise remained in his eyes long after they saw anything at all. The hand on his neck became limp and the dead weight of Bone’s lifeless body slumped against him for a second before the weight was hauled off of him.

  He stared into Tommy’s face. His eyes were as cold as ever, his lips twisted in a vengeful snarl that turned into a smirk when he hauled Bone away and dropped his body on the floor. The knife handle protruding out of his jacket was as wicked and deadly as the blade had been. A deep, wine colored stain spread below the body of the man who had been as ruthless and horrible in life as his death was.

  “You live by the sword, you fucking die by the- oh wait. That was just a little butter knife. Surprising how effective it can be.” Tommy actually grinned as he bent and retrieved his knife. He gave it a sharp tug and it came free, the wicked blade bloody. It was no fucking butter knife.

  “What the fuck did you just do?” Trace’s eyes flew to Tommy’s face. He knew he looked like a stunned moron at the moment, clutching his throat, rasping for air, but he couldn’t help himself.

  Bone was dead. Truly dead. He’d tried to kill him and somehow he was still alive and Bone was the one on the floor, the lifeblood seeping out of him. Tommy wiped the blade on his jeans and stuffed it back into the sheath near his boot. He wore the knife in almost the exact same spot Trace did.

  ‘I knew the fucker wasn’t going to let you go. There aren’t any exchanges here. You were going to tell him and then my plans would have been ruined.”

  “Your plans?” Trace gaped.

  “That’s right. I made the deal.” He stared down at Bone’s corpse, entirely bored. “I was the rat all along.” He laughed at the horror on Trace’s face. “Don’t look so surprised. I was fucking sick of this place. Sick of doing the bidding of a murderous mad man who had only his best interests at heart. That’s not a club. That’s not a brotherhood. It’s a fucking dictatorship and dictators usually end up dying violent deaths.” He indicated Bone’s body. “Just like that. Stabbed in the fucking back by yours truly. I’m quite proud of the placement actually. Right between the ribs. Straight through to the heart. Exactly as I wanted, even though he was angled completely the wrong way.”

  “Tommy!” Trace rasped. “We have to get the fuck out of here.”

  “Oh, I’m leaving. Don’t worry. I’ve already got my exit planned. I had that down all along. Bone was supposed to die at the end of this week. I couldn’t let that not happen. I couldn’t let you tell him. I actually came in here planning on killing you
both, but I’ve changed my mind. You’re harmless enough. You want out as badly as I do. I gave us a way. Now you can leave. Take that family of yours and get far away from here. Not one of us is going to come after you. The men all wanted out as badly as we do. Ever since Big Ted. That was the last straw. They won’t die for a lunatic. They won’t march to the orders of a mad man. We aren’t fucking puppets. We were supposed to be brothers.”

  “And that kid in the basement that you tortured as the rat?”

  “Oh that.” Tommy laughed that sickening laugh again. “Bone was never going to check up on me. I gave him a few minor cuts and bruises. Pulled out a tooth. Big fucking deal. He’ll live. If I was you, I’d go untie him. Otherwise he might rot down there forever, forgotten completely. I’m shipping out now. It was good knowing you.” He stuck out a bloody hand, but Trace didn’t shake it. He didn’t know if he could find the strength to even lift a hand, let alone get himself the fuck out of there.

  “I…”

  “Suit yourself.” Tommy dropped his hand. “It was good knowing you. Good look with the family life and all that.” He turned and sauntered away, his footsteps fading down the hall until they were gone completely.

  The acrid scent of death choked Trace when he was alone with the body. Sharp and coppery, it coated and filled the air.

  He forced himself to move. Forced his lead feet, his aching body, his lungs which were still screaming, the pain radiating out from his throat into the rest of him, slowing him down… he forced himself forward, in the direction of the basement.

  A life for a life.

  Except Bone was dead and he was still alive.

  He’d get free. He’d get free and he’d find Sandy. He’d take her and Alex and he’d start over.

  He’d been given a second chance. A third chance. Fuck, he was probably on his hundredth chance. He’d finally woke the fuck up and he wasn’t going to waste it.

  For the first time, he was finally, finally, going to live.

  Chapter 18

  SANDRA

  The alarm was going off, cutting into her dreams. Sandra pulled herself from sleep. She had no idea why she was so tired. It felt like she’d only been asleep for a few hours. She worked early, but normally she wasn’t so exhausted that she couldn’t open her eyes.

  When she unglued her heavy lids, she sat upright, staring into the dark of her room. She blinked, confused. Her phone sat on the night stand where it always was and it wasn’t her alarm going off.

  “Mom?” Alex appeared in her doorway, a tall, thin shadow. “Why is someone ringing the buzzer? It’s four in the morning.”

  Her alarm was set to go off in fifteen minutes, she realized. It wasn’t that early and she wasn’t actually that tired. Just out of it. Balling her hands into fists, Sandra rubbed at the remaining sleep that clung to her eyes.

  “I’m not sure, honey.” She blinked. “It’s probably just someone who has the wrong apartment number.”

  “But they’ve been ringing it for the past five minutes.” Alex paused and the buzzer rang through the house again. “And they aren’t going away. It keeps ringing. I don’t think they have the wrong place. I think they want in.”

  Sandra shoved back the covers. “That’s sure as hell not happening. Don’t worry. They can’t get in. If someone does end up letting them in and they knock on the door, I’ll call the police. They won’t be able to get past the locks.”

  Alex’s face paled, even in the dark and Sandra was sorry she’d scared him. “Sometimes people just drink too much and come and ring buzzers because they’re too drunk to know the difference. That’s probably all it is.”

  Alex sat down on the edge of the bed. “Do you think that we should call the police anyway?”

  “They’ll probably stop. Just wait a minute.”

  They both paused. She glanced at her bedside clock, which read four minutes past four. The buzzing continued straight through for two minutes.

  “Maybe someone got kicked out. Maybe they’re just buzzing trying to get back in.”

  “Then maybe the police are already on their way.”

  “Maybe.”

  They both sat there, listening to the incessant buzzing. It didn’t stop and finally Sandra stormed through her room. She grabbed her phone, turned off her alarm before it went off and added to the noise, threw on a robe over her t-shirt and shorts that she wore to bed, and stomped to the intercom. She slammed her finger down on the talk button, silencing the buzzer.

  “Look. Whoever you are, you have the wrong apartment. Please stop ringing our buzzer.” She paused, her finger hovering over the button that would let her listen to whoever was out there. Finally she pushed it.

  His voice, the voice she’d never forget, cut through the apartment. It was crackly over the shitty intercom, but it was unmistakably Trace’s. “Please. Sandra. You have to let me in. This isn’t about us at the moment. It’s about your safety. Don’t send me away. Don’t call the police. Just open the door and wait for me and I’ll be up in a minute.”

  She closed her eyes while her breaths grew shallower with every passing second. The hair at her nape stood on end. Her heart beat out a hard, unsteady pattern in her chest. A tremble started in her feet and spread up her legs, up her spine, into her arms and down her hands so that even her fingers were shaking.

  “Mom?” Alex appeared behind her, his face creased with worry. “What’s going on?”

  “I…” Oh god. There’s so much that I haven’t told him. “I’ll explain to you, I promise.” She swallowed down the panic that threatened to lodge itself in her throat. “For now, honey, can you please go into your room and lock the door. Put on your headphones or your video games and don’t come out. Can you do that for me?”

  Alex stared her down and for a minute, Sandra thought that he was going to refuse. She wouldn’t have blamed him one bit. He finally nodded slowly, turned and walked off down the hallway. She couldn’t hesitate after that. Not when the note of panic in Trace’s voice both tugged at her heart and set her teeth on edge. He wasn’t the kind of man to show weakness. When he came to her door basically begging her to let him in, telling her they were in danger, she believed it. It wasn’t some ploy just to get inside her apartment and beg her for another chance.

  At least she hoped not. After Trace dragged her off into the shadows for no reason whatsoever other than to talk to her, she had no idea what he was actually capable of.

  If this was a joke, she knew that she’d never forgive him and by the end of it, he’d know it too.

  Her hand wavered as it hovered over the button to buzz Trace in. She let out a shaky exhale and pushed it. Her heavy feet carried her to the front door. She unlocked it and had only a few seconds to wait before Trace appeared in the peephole’s vision. She pulled the door open and there he was, as large and dangerous and darkly handsome as ever.

  There was something wrong with his eyes. They glistened with a feral sheen. He shoved inside roughly, pushed her out of the way and slammed the door shut. He did up the locks and pressed his back against it like there were someone outside waiting with a battering ram to break it down and he could stand between her and the invasion.

  “What the hell?” Sandra breathed. “If you wanted to scare the hell out of me and Alex, then you definitely succeeded.”

  “I didn’t want to scare you.” Trace reached out and she shrunk back. She had nowhere to go. Her spine literally pressed up against the hard wall. He gripped her upper arms so hard that she winced. Even through the cushioning of her thick robe, it felt like her skin was going to be bruised from the hard hold. She winced and he released her. “Fuck,” he breathed, face cramping. “I’m sorry. I- you have to listen to me. I don’t have a lot of time. Shit went down at the club. Bad shit. I don’t think there’s anyone coming after me, but I’m not going to take that chance. It wasn’t me. I didn’t do anything, I need you to know that, but our Prez is dead. He tried to kill me first.” He jabbed a finger up to his neck, where she
noticed the harsh red and purple marks there for the first time. She gasped.

  “What the-”

  “I’ll explain later. I promise, I did nothing. I have never killed anyone, I need you to understand that. I’ve done a lot of shit in my life, but I never actually pulled the trigger or sunk that knife in. Please, I need you to believe that.”

  “Okay,” Sandra agreed hesitantly. Trace was acting completely crazed and it froze her blood. She couldn’t remember a single time in her life when she’d been so scared. “I believe you.”

  “Good. I- the club is a mess. This is the only time I’ll ever be able to get out. Most of the guys wanted to leave anyway. No one is going to hunt me down. They have their own lives to lead, but I’m not going to risk leaving you behind. It’s far safer if we all disappear.” He blinked hard and his voice softened. “I couldn’t leave you behind if I tried. I wanted to start over because of you. I’m sorry it took me so many years to realize that. I’m sorry that I’ve fucked everything up so badly. I don’t care if you hate me at the moment. I don’t care if you never want to see me again after this. No, that’s not true. Of course I care. It would kill me, but I’ll live with your decision. I just need you to come with me right now. You and Alex. Pack a bag. We have to leave as soon as possible.”

  “But- but- I have a life- this place, my job- Alex’s school.”

  “None of it is going to matter if someone comes looking for me. They won’t find me and if they get pissed off about that, my enemies or guys who used to be my brothers, there is going to be hell to pay. You’re not safe here, Sandra. One of them already knows that Alex is mine. It’s not difficult to find you or him. I can’t take that chance.”

  When black spots danced in front of Sandra’s eyes, she realized she’d been holding her breath to the point of nearly passing out. She drew in a long, shaky breath in an attempt to fortify herself.

  “I’m sorry.” Trace swore under his breath. “I never wanted to get you mixed up in this. In any of it. It’s why I went away the first time. I wanted you, Sandy, more than anything in the world. I just- I was stupid. I made the wrong decision and once I made it, I was done. I couldn’t risk endangering you by being with you. I couldn’t have you as my old lady. Our Vice Prez, last year he didn’t agree with Bone and Bone hunted him down, killed him and his old lady. He sent me to kill the daughter. I- I didn’t do it. I helped her and the guy she escaped with fake their deaths. I told Bone that they were dead. I swore to him. I betrayed my own club to save their lives since- since she saved mine.” Trace swallowed so hard his poor bruised throat bobbed with the movement. “That’s not important though. What matters is that we get you both out of here so nothing like that happens again. It’s not probably or likely, but I’m not taking any chances.”