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

by Melissa Devenport

  Since the couch was the only piece of furniture in the room, Shawn took a seat. Brick hovered over him, obviously enjoying the intimidating stance. Fucker.

  “Just came from church,” Brick started.

  That had Shawn’s attention. He kept his wise ass mouth closed and leaned forward. The house was silent. Kayla had done as he asked and stayed in the bedroom. She was probably curled in a ball on her side, her face turned away, doing her best to regulate her breaths to seem like she was asleep, even though she could hear them in the other room.

  “Kill met with Drake. Told him he didn’t appreciate being kept on the dark on what the fuck is going down. It doesn’t make sense that Marcello would come after Drake and his business partners just because he didn’t get to pooch Drake’s sister after all.”

  “He was supposed to marry her,” Shawn interrupted. “And who says pooch anymore?”

  “Fuck you, you little prick.” Brick leaned in and Shawn shrunk back. It was either cede the space or find himself on the business end of Brick’s fist or boot, neither of which were a particularly attractive option.

  Shawn flipped Brick the bird. “Okay, okay, I’ll shut it.”

  “I should break every single one of the teeth in your smart ass mouth. Maybe then you’d learn to shut the fuck up once and a while. You’re just a prospect. I’ve never seen a fucker as mouthy as you.”

  “Guilty as charged,” Shawn grinned. “I can’t help it. I was born that way, I guess.”

  Brick’s jaw clenched and it was obvious that he was trying to keep it under control. His instructions obviously weren’t to beat the piss out of the club prospect. Which was a happy thing for him, because Brick would have done it and enjoyed it.

  “Turns out that it wasn’t the bitch that Marcello is angry about. The guy’s a prick, but he’s got connections. He’s not the kind of guy that people should fuck with lightly. I guess Drake didn’t get the memo. The fucker is too big for his britches. He decided he wanted to go on a mission to make himself a little more money. Start a new line of commerce. That’s where the girl’s father came in.” Brick’s eyes flicked up towards the wall, where on the other side, the bedroom was. Where Kayla was.

  Shawn tensed. He didn’t want to give anything away, but he couldn’t fucking help it. There was no doubt that Kayla could hear every single word they were saying. He told himself that’s all it was. Concern for her feelings. Since when have I cared about anyone’s damn feelings? It was true. He wasn’t a feelings kind of guy. He purposely shut that shit off in himself. He couldn’t live the life he did, see the things he did, hear it, do it, if he let himself feel much of anything.

  “You going to tell me what they were doing?” Shawn asked, brow raised. “Because I kind of want to get back to that nap.”

  Brick’s eyes darkened dangerously. Shawn braced for a fist straight to the gut, but none came. Brick began to pace in front of the couch, doing what he could to wear off some of his aggression. Jesus, the guy would be better off armed up and sent into the field at the moment. The Servants were unlike other clubs in that they didn’t have a VP. Their prez liked to be the only one at the helm. Kill was a crazy bastard and no one ever thought about bringing up having a second in command. If they did have bullshit titles, Brick would have been pretty close to filling those shoes. Which was likely why he was at the house and not some other less worthy piece of shit. His presence there also let Shawn know that his job had just turned real serious real fucking fast. This wasn’t just about babysitting anymore.

  “Drake decided to start selling and moving guns. Not to clubs around here, but he was moving them through Marcello’s territory, right under his nose.”

  All the blood drained out of Shawn’s extremities, leaving him cold. “Move and sell weapons? With who? Who the fuck was that bastard using if it wasn’t us? He pays us for protection. We should have had first shot at this or at least he should have filled Kill in on what he was doing.”

  Brick nodded. “The guy’s a dumb fucking prick but he’s a powerful one. Smart. Well-connected. He might be over-confident, but then again, he’s young.”

  “You can’t tell me the fucker was just sitting around doing his classes, letting his big-bro take the lead all these years. He was waiting. He was waiting for the right fucking time to off him. He probably used his sister as an excuse. When shit went sideways with her, he killed his bastard brother who was going to let her be raped by his men and then passed on to fucking Marcello. God knows that the bastard wouldn’t make for a very kind husband. So Drake looked like he was just cleaning house. Getting rid of his crazy brother who no one liked. He seemed like the better option. A more rational, nicer, able to do business with kind of guy.”

  Brick gave his head a shake. “I don’t know what he’s like, to tell you the truth, but he fucked up by not telling Kill what he was doing. Anyway, we know now. Marcello obviously thinks that the Servants are involved in whatever it was Drake was doing with those guns. I don’t know much more at this point, but Kill is meeting with him tomorrow morning.”

  “Hopefully it doesn’t get ugly. Or maybe it should. If Kill offed Drake then we wouldn’t have to worry about any of this. The Cannelli shit-head, Marcello… what does it matter who’s paying us for protection?”

  “It matters,” Brick said tersely, like he was explaining things to an idiot, “because Marcello never liked the Servants. It’s part of the reason that Kill considered Drake Cannelli’s request when he reached out for protection. The club has never been friends to either. We don’t get involved in underground bullshit. We have enough dumb fucks to worry about with the amount of gangs and clubs in this city and new ones cropping up all the time. We never wanted to get involved in bullshit that ain’t our fight.”

  “And now we are. Because Drake Cannelli sucked us in.”

  “He might have been trying to keep us out of it. That’s the reason the fucker is still alive. Kill had to consider that maybe he was trying to use other contacts to deal with and move those weapons so that he wouldn’t start a goddamn war between clubs. He was doing it right under Marcello’s nose. The guy owns most of the ports around here so that’s where Cannelli fucked up. He was paying Marcello’s men to allow a few of his own ships to come and go as they pleased. Well, Marcello found out about it and he obviously wasn’t having it. Those guys ended up with more than just a bullet in their brains. That would have been the merciful way to go. They were delivered, right after your assignment’s house was shot up, to Drake Cannelli’s doorstep, in pieces.”

  Shawn shuddered. “That’s fucking rough, man. Even for guys like them.”

  “Guys like them?” Again, Brick looked at him like he was an imbecile. “You have no idea what guys like them are capable of. Just because Drake Cannelli is new at the helm and hasn’t really had time to exert his real influence. Just because he seems like he might be a decent guy doesn’t mean he isn’t capable of being a real bastard like the rest of them. You think that Kill is bad sometimes? That the rest of the clubs out there are unmerciful? You have no fucking idea. We’ve never sent a dismembered corpse to any of our enemies. That shit is fucking low, but these guys, they feed on it. It makes them feel fucking powerful and they need that.”

  “So what you’re saying…” Shawn crossed his hands behind his head and pretended to be bored. He didn’t yawn because he knew Brick wouldn’t be able to resist putting his fist right through his teeth just for the insult. “Is that my babysitting job just got a hell of a lot more complicated.”

  “That’s what I’m saying,” Brick snarled. His eyes narrowed and his already thin lips thinned out. The fucker could have been almost pretty, in another life, but not in this one. He was too square, too chunky, too mean looking, like that clay that was supposed to make a nice brick had gone into the oven and churned out something lumpy and mean and fused together all wrong. “We’re moving you both in the morning. Pace will come for you with the van. Be fucking ready. This isn’t a game. It’s not
some babysitting assignment anymore. Marcello might have sent a warning last night, but he’s done fucking around. We have to get you and that girl back to the club.”

  “Where’s her father?” Shawn asked, because he could only imagine what Kayla was thinking and feeling in the other room and for some stupid reason, he actually cared.

  “We got to him before Marcello did. The guy was too busy taking care of his men first. I guess his torture and dismember party went long into the night. He cares more about being a sick motherfucker than he does about getting the job done right away, lucky for Drake and his associates. And for us. Since it’s our job to try and keep these bastards alive. He’s with Drake, holed up at the Cannelli house. There isn’t a better place for him to be. The fucking place is built like a fortress.”

  Yeah, well, his brother wasn’t exactly fucking around. And it was his father who built it. The point was, the Cannelli family had been shit for a very long time. Marcello might not be joking, but the Cannelli’s didn’t fuck around either. “Drake better be paying extra for this one,” Shawn snorted.

  Brick’s hands clenched at his sides. The blood-lust in his eyes was obvious. He would love nothing more than a good fucking fight at the moment. Shawn wouldn’t mind one himself. Whatever beast lay at the center of him screamed to get free. He was restless and cagey and felt all wrong on the underside of his own skin. It wasn’t a nice fucking feeling, fuck you very much. He was reminded that twenty minutes ago he was about to sink into Kayla’s warm, tight heat and then Brick had interrupted it all. So yeah, Shawn wouldn’t mind giving as good as he got at the moment.

  He thought about it, but then decided against it. They all needed to save their strength for what really mattered.

  The all-out fucking, unholy, blood bath coming their way.

  “The other clubs hate Marcello as much as the rest of us,” Shawn said tersely. “Kill going to call a meeting with the other guys and see what can be done? We aren’t going to this one alone.” That much was obvious, even to him, a prospect.

  “What Kill does or doesn’t do, isn’t any of your business at the moment. All you need to know is that you and the girl need to be ready to move in a few hours. Pace will pull up in the back alley at exactly three minutes past five. You both need to be in that van. He ain’t gonna wait around for you, and if you endanger any of us by being late, you’re both on your own.”

  “Got it,” Shawn said seriously. Because he was a world class dumb-ass, he couldn’t resist throwing in one final jab. “What if my phone time is off?”

  Brick moved so lethally fast, it was actually shocking for a man his size. He looked like he’d be slow and Shawn had never really seen the guy in the heat of the action before. Torturing a fucker before? Sure. Pounding on a bastard. Yup. Fighting one of his brothers after a few too many and a dispute over a club-whore? Check and check.

  He was still shocked at Brick’s speed and accuracy. The bastard stared back at him with bloodshot eyes. His snarl could have curled the stones of a much braver man right up into the guy’s throat. Luckily, Shawn’s stones were already rammed up his throat compliments of how fucking blue they were and Brick’s ill timing.

  “See that it’s fucking correct,” Brick growled before he released Shawn. He fell back against the couch and stared up into those fearsome dark eyes.

  “Sure thing, boss. See you later. Can you tell Pace to bring some of those cheesy chips? The ones that taste like they rolled out of a day old gym bag filled with sweaty socks?”

  “You know what?” Brick shook his head. “You’re going to end up on the wrong end of a barrel one day, you little prick, and you’re going to get that smart mouth of yours blown clean fucking off.”

  Shawn could only grin back. “I’ve known that since I was like, ten years old.”

  Brick ground his teeth audibly. He turned and marched off towards the door, which in the small room, took him about two seconds to reach. Shawn followed him there, just so he could put the locks back in place. Brick shot him a black look over his shoulder before he slammed the door shut and disappeared into the night.

  Shawn did up the locks. He leaned against the door after, breathing hard.

  An image of his mother’s worried, tear streaked face filtered into view behind his closed lids. It changed, morphing into Kayla’s face, her dark hair and tear-stained eyes, her full lips quivering with pain and fear. He’d always known it was his destiny to end up the way Brick described.

  This was just the first time it actually hurt right where it was supposed to.

  In his damn chest, right in the spot where his heart used to be.

  Chapter 10

  KAYLA

  Her life was in danger. Her father’s life was at risk. If Shawn thought she was just going to lie down like a scared, lifeless dog and do nothing, he had another thing coming.

  As soon as whoever had been in the house with him, one of his club members- or whatever they were called- left, Shawn walked into the room. He found her sitting at the edge of the bed, fully dressed, arms wrapped around herself.

  She wished she could ward off his presence. She wished she could protect herself from what he did to her just by being in the room with her. It was like… god; she didn’t know what it was like. She’d never experienced anything like it before. It was like when Shawn entered the room all the air got sucked out of it and he grew ten times his size. Her mind went to places that it had no business going- namely to what they were doing before they got interrupted. Her body wanted more. It wanted to pick up where they left off, but her brain, which had finally snapped back into the ON position, was giving her a huge, hell no, to that idea.

  So instead of focusing on the fact that her hard nipples and the ache between her thighs, which was enough to make her want to touch herself just to relieve the pain, she leveled Shawn with a hard glare.

  “If you think that you’re going to take me and load me in that van…” she started, but quickly trailed off when Shawn rolled his eyes.

  “No one wants to get in the van. I get it. I don’t. You don’t. You want to go back to your life, whatever it was you were doing before all this. Your restaurant or whatever, but honey, that’s not going to happen anytime soon. Not unless you want to take a bullet through that pretty head of yours. I personally think you look much better without it. You obviously have a good brain. It would be a shame if it was spattered all over the wall. You probably have a good heart too. Keep it working. Don’t let someone pump it full of lead and drive off on their merry way. In short, I’m telling you that you might not want to get in the fucking van and go to our clubhouse where we can keep you safe, but you are going to get in the fucking van and go to our clubhouse where we can keep you safe. End of story. If you give me any trouble, I swear on my granny’s grave that I will tie you up and toss you over my shoulder and carry you out, gagged, so that you can’t make a single noise.”

  “You- you wouldn’t dare,” Kayla hissed.

  Shawn’s ice blue eyes danced with humor. Clearly, he was enjoying himself. Fucking bastard. It was even worse that with his lips turned up at the corners in a mocking grin and his eyes flashing like that, his arms folded over his chest, biceps bulging and that t-shirt straining everywhere, he was really damn attractive.

  “Not only would I dare. I’d enjoy myself immensely.”

  “No, I couldn’t tell,” she said, words dripping with sarcasm. “So…” she didn’t want to ask the question that was driving her nuts, but she had to. If she didn’t, she’d just spend more torturous hours tossing about the horrible alternatives and outcomes in her head. “So, what happens now? What are you and your biker gang going to do about any of this? You’re here to keep me safe. I get that. I get that my dad worked himself into this whole mess. He should never have got involved with whoever that Cannelli guy is. My dad is a good man. That guy- he’s- god. He’s just… trouble. My dad never would have done something like this on his own.”

  Shawn’s dark brow arched
annoyingly upwards. “Are you sure? How well can we really ever know another person? Maybe this shit was your dad’s idea and Drake Cannelli liked it. He had the manpower and the resources and your father had the brains.”

  “No!” Kayla refused to consider that option. “No, he would never have done something like that. Selling guns? Moving guns? That’s for… for…”

  “Bad people? Criminals? People like me?”

  “I…”

  “Funny, just half an hour ago you seemed to be perfectly fine with the fact that I am what I am. You seemed to be just fine with all that dirty talk. And the fact that I do bad things and look like this no doubt had you wet long before we started any of it.”

  Kayla’s darker complexion often prevented outright blushes, but as heat flooded her body- carnal heat, not the heat of shame like it should have been- she knew that her face was scarlet. She wasn’t sure whether her rage or her embarrassment was worse.

  “You…” she stammered, unable to force anything else out. Shawn just stood there, all his muscled muscliness on display, bulging here and there since his arms were still crossed, staring down at her with that knowing look in his eyes and that smirk on his face. “Fu-”

  “Uh-uh,” Shawn shook his head, cutting her off. Her hand was already raised to flip him the bird. “We’re done with that. Shit just got real. Marcello isn’t fucking around. What we did here is done. No one needs to know about it. From here on out, we make one mistake, it could cost our lives or the lives of my brothers or maybe even your father. That can’t happen. You got me?”

  “I…” she should have been perfectly happy to let what had happened between them get filed away into that category of shitty mistakes brought on by my sexual deprivation and emotional trauma never to be repeated or spoken of again. She should have, but her body was going into full on revolt mode. The throbbing between her thighs got worse and even slamming them together couldn’t stop the spread of heat. Her nipples were so hard they were probably going to cut her bra into shreds if she moved an inch.