by Nikki Landis
Table of Contents
Prologue
Part One
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Part Two
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Epilogue
Sins of the
FATHER
Ravage Riders MC #1
A Second Chance Sci-Fi Alien Time Travel Romance
Copyright © 2018 Nikki Landis
All Rights Reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Edited by iPublishGlobal
Cover by Victoria Cooper Art
Table of Contents
Copyright Page
Prologue
Part One | “Undeservedly | You will atone | For the sins of your fathers.” | ~ Horace
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Part Two
Five years later . . .
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Epilogue
Thank you for reading!
Playlist:
About the Author
Prologue
The blonde’s perky tits bounced as she gyrated, her hips swinging seductively to the beat of the rhythmic music as she swayed, her arms reaching above her platinum head, bent at the elbows as she twirled her fingers in a come-hither gesture. A bold suggestive smile curved her too full lips that were stained bright red from the cheap lipstick she wore. With a seductive look of determination, she sauntered closer, her eyes on the man of honor.
Peter saw her obvious approach and groaned inwardly. His eyes roamed over her petite frame and lingered for a few seconds before he turned away, dismissing her before she had a chance to speak. Another piece of ass was nothing new. He was sick of the constant flaunt of attention seeking pussy in his face.
If he wasn’t so god damn tired, he might have got up and gone to his room but nights like this proved he would never escape his life in the MC. No matter how much he gave up, or how much he handed over his soul . . . he was always required to give more.
Fuck Rafe and his bullshit.
“Welcome home.”
Rafe, the club’s president, sank onto the couch beside him, his smug look of self-righteousness the same as it was a year ago before Pete was arrested. Nothing had changed.
“Thanks,” Pete mumbled, not the least bit interested in the blonde with her bouncing tits and fake spray on tan, or the countless others paraded half naked in front of him. These little ‘bunnies’ or ‘puppets’ were all the same. Just wanted to be old ladies to a club member, didn’t matter which one.
Fuck that shit.
Peter wasn’t going to be used.
“You good Edge?” Edge, the nickname Rafe had given him because Pete was always on edge, ready to snap in rage. He fucking hated it.
His leather vest with the Ravage Riders MC skull logo on the back and his name Edge stitched on the front was tossed in his lap.
“Put your leathers on man. I don’t like to see you without your cut.”
Rafe’s amused expression darted from Pete to the perky blonde as she sank into his lap. His hands cupped her breasts and pinched before he yanked her closer and slammed his lips down on hers.
“Blow me,” he instructed as the girl dropped to her knees and began to unzip his pants.
Pete knew this would happen. Rafe had been giving him shit for years trying to entice him with every slat that walked through the door. Pete didn’t care about the public display, it wasn’t the issue. You could almost always find some kind of debauchery happening every night at the MC. The clubhouse was so full of free pussy he was surprised they didn’t change the name to Cathouse or some shit. Just how things were. With Rafe as Pres, that’s how they would remain.
He ignored the smacking and slurping sounds from the blonde and focused his gaze across the room looking for R.J. His best friend had been scarce tonight. Considering what was happening next to him, he could understand why.
This shit got old fast.
Neither of the guys indulged in this lifestyle when they could help it. Their mutual problem was one that haunted both of their dreams . . . and their past. The same girl.
Rae.
Rage rushed through his veins like sharp poison, stinging and burning them. Thoughts of her always brought the same reaction. Pete’s fist clenched the red plastic cup, once full of beer, in his hand a little too tight. Good thing he already downed it. Why were these cups always fucking red? His patience was wearing thin and he was sick of the constant act around Rafe.
Alcohol was an easy escape and one he sought often.
He was an expert at getting drunk. Ask anyone.
And he had a temper too.
Pete used to be a different guy, one who gave a shit and cared about doing the right thing. A low bitter chuckle rumbled in his throat
as his best friend’s gaze caught his across the room, appearing in the doorway with a frown. R.J. glared in Rafe’s direction and ticked his head toward the exit, but Peter mouthed the word ‘no.’ He wasn’t ready to leave quite yet.
There were a few things he needed to settle before he attempted to make all his wrongs right. Not an easy choice for a man whose life was condemned, but vengeance was bittersweet, and he intended to savor the moment once it arrived. For now, he had a plan to enact, which meant taking necessary risks. Right or wrong he was determined to avenge the wrongs done to him and those he loved. Doing the right thing caused him to lose the only woman who ever meant anything to him.
Rae was gone forever because of his choices . . .
So . . . fuck doing the right thing.
He didn’t give a shit anymore.
Time was ticking, his hatred burning deep and simmering low, ready to ignite in a flame of righteous revenge. So much time had passed. Too many years to count.
No more waiting, it had been long enough. Rafe would answer for his crimes.
Five years.
Five long painful years.
An eternity.
But just like the Grim Reaper . . . death was about to seek retribution.
The name of vengeance was Peter “Edge” Harding.
Part One
“Undeservedly
You will atone
For the sins of your fathers.”
~ Horace
Chapter 1
The cool gray concrete façade of the dimly lit warehouse pressed tightly against my back. I ducked below the dirty glass block windows, sank directly below to crouch, and paused to catch my breath. The frantic beat of my pulse thrummed in my veins from the sudden burst of adrenaline. Excitement always did this to me. The thrill of the upcoming fight and knowing we held the element of surprise sent a surge of pleasure through my veins. I was like a junkie who needed their next fix.
Maybe I was addicted to the fucked-up life I now led.
Bumpy impressions from the uneven surface ground into my back as I froze, the movement inside slow but intentional as the voices grew louder for several minutes before they faded away completely. I never moved. Even when it became uncomfortable. Not until I knew it was safe and wouldn’t reveal our position.
I’m not a pussy. And this isn’t my first fucking rodeo.
Tonight was all about retribution.
Any chance to give these fuckers a little payback . . . I took it.
The meager light shone through the grimy, cobweb covered glass planes and cast a pale-yellow light through the gaps as I listened for footsteps or any indication our cover had been blown. Beside me, R.J. checked his Glock and cocked the gun as his fingers tightened over the steel barrel and twitched. When our eyes met, I knew my brother had my back as much as I had his.
That’s how family worked . . . and the MC was family.
For life. The RRMC was life. A death sentence without parole.
That’s it. Once you’re in, you stay. Forever.
This life was all I’d ever have so tonight wasn’t a chore, it was my fucking duty.
I glanced behind me to check my six and ticked my head in Jake’s direction. He nodded his head of long dark hair tied into a ponytail and indicated the rear of the building was secure. To his left and right flank I spotted ‘GQ’ Luke – the guy was a little too pretty – and the unruly red hair of Valan. Ghost was a few feet behind, his skull tattoos covering much of his exposed skin. His skeletal mask completed the look. Crazy fucker.
Beckett and Shane were on back up if needed.
Moving steadily forward we kept in tight formation, gesturing to one another in the dark. My brothers and I didn’t seem to need words to communicate. It was as if I could sense their thoughts and intentions before they ever moved. We’ve always been able to control a situation like this, reaching the same goal together without much effort. Like a well-oiled machine or our Harley’s, we could perceive each other’s plans or meaning without asking. This was vital, an integral part of how we worked as an MC and functioned as one massive strong beast.
I’ve never given much thought to how we connect so strongly without effort, but I suppose it’s life in the MC, crazy and dangerous, that developed these abilities.
The outdoor lights were dim and worked to our advantage. We knew exactly how many of these motherfuckers were gonna be on watch. Surveillance had given us decent Intel. The first two guards outside didn’t see us in time. Valan took out one, his beefy arm around the guy’s skinny neck before he could fight. GQ picked off the other as his blade sank into the soft flesh between the bastard’s empty ears.
Not a sound disturbed the silence of the night, except for one single grunt quickly extinguished. The lifeless bodies were hidden in the bushes off the edge of the property. Efficient and ruthless, my brothers proved time and again their worth.
Time to watch for the remaining MC members.
Not ours, of course. These bastards belonged to our rival MC, and they deserved everything coming for them tonight. One in particular, a dark Native American guy, was high on my list of targets.
This shit was personal with him – Akando – a name I wouldn’t forget.
“Edge?”
I swiveled in R.J.’s direction and ticked my head toward the door.
“Akando is mine. Everyone else is fair game,” I whispered, my words heavy with anticipation.
Only minutes later the next few members exited the warehouse. They didn’t get far. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. There would be no mercy this night.
I tapped my hand restlessly against my thigh in a flash of nerves. Where was this Akando fucker?
Shots rang out a few minutes later, erupting from one of the warehouse windows, smashed seconds before the gunfire began to spray bullets into the dark night.
It was only a matter of time before they realized their guys weren’t coming back inside. Didn’t matter. No one in that warehouse was walking away, so the point was moot.
We easily avoided the careless shots being fired and busted through the door, spreading out and clearing the two fucktards by the windows. I shot both before a second thought entered my head, my brothers right behind me as we entered the warehouse.
I’m a marksman and a damn near perfect shot. The heart or the forehead, the only two places I ever leave a bullet. No loose ends. No screw ups.
No second chances.
We kept moving, taking out more targets and searching the interior for any hidden MC members. A large table sat in the middle of the dusty room covered in bricks of coke and hundreds of little dime bags spread across the surface as it was cut for maximum resale. Stupid fuckers. There were other less dangerous ways to earn.
Not that Rafe listened to me or my opinions.
The RRMC club president knew best. Asshole.
“Edge, isn’t this a surprise?”
The voice echoed somewhere close off to my right.
Turning the next corner swiftly, we ended up face to face.
“Akando,” I growled, leveling my gun right at his heart. He wasn’t going out that fast but he didn’t need to know it.
“How’s Rae? I have to admit I jerk off every night thinking of her sweet little cunt.”
Rage pounded my temples, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction, “My girl is safe. Right where she needs to be.”
He snorted, both of us moving steadily closer to the other. There were only a few feet between us and the air rippled with expectation. Too much space. All I wanted was to smash his skull into the ground. But first, before he died, he needed to feel pain. I wanted to hear his screams. I needed to hear him beg.
Without warning he rushed me, his head connecting with my torso, but I was ready for him. We fell to the ground, the impact hard, but I ignored the jarring of my body against the hard concrete floor and brought my knee sharply up, connecting hard with his jaw.
Dazed, Akando was sprawled on the ground, it provided the d
istraction I was looking for. Seconds later I landed a brutal left hook, followed by another to his right cheek, his head flopping uselessly around on his neck. Several more hits gave him a busted nose and a black eye before I landed a few choice hits on his rib cage too.
Spitting blood and holding his side, he moaned, “Edge, I’m sorry.”
“For?” I roared.
“For not killing you sooner!”
Two minutes later he was swaying on his knees before me, my knuckles dripping his blood. I grabbed his head by the hair and forced his gaze up to mine, “You dumb motherfucker. You’ll die for touching my girl. I’ll never let you live after what you did.”
Behind me I knew the warehouse was secure. My brothers had my six.
I was free to torture, maim, and do what I wanted to this asshole.
“I wish I would have raped her now,” he sneered.
Wrong answer.
Taking my lighter, I flipped open the lid and smiled cruelly, “Hold him.”
For thirty minutes I tortured him, burning and slicing his body with my hunting knife, severing fingers until he passed out. Ghost found a bucket of stagnant water and threw it on him until he awakened, sputtering and mumbling curses at me.
“Any last words motherfucker?” I asked, ready to end this once and for all.
“You don’t know what you’ve done tonight. Striker will come for you Edge. You won’t survive it.”
“Maybe, but you’ll never know.”
He was suddenly serious, his eyes locking on mine, “Ask Mack about that night. Find out the truth about Ron, your dad, and the RRMC. Get answers Edge, don’t be a fucking pussy.”
“What are you saying?” I yelled, hating how his slurred voice seemed to ring with the truth.
“I’m going to die and I’m ready, but I die knowing what really caused the feud between us. We used to be brother MC’s.” His head fell forward and he let out a raspy sigh, “There’s a lot of shit and lies on both sides.”
“Fuck,” I whispered, certain he wasn’t lying.
I walked away from Akando, suddenly disgusted. Not with myself, but the knowledge that my own reservations and questions about the death of Rae’s father and Max’s exile were grounded in truth. “End him,” I ordered, leaving the carnage in the room behind as I walked outside into the cool night air.