Resisting Ryder
Blakeley Wilde
Copyright 2014 – Blakeley Wilde
All Rights Reserved
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and events are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to events, locales, or persons (living or dead) is purely coincidental.
Ryder Jacks is a good guy, or at least he tries to be. On his own since 18 and recruited into the Hellfire MC, he’s paid his dues and worked his way all the way up to VP. When he finds out that his estranged brother was murdered in cold blood, possibly by one of his own Hellfire men, he vows to bring the killer to justice.
When Stormy Jacks opens her door the night of her husband’s funeral, she cannot believe her eyes. The man standing before her is the spitting image of her late husband, and he claims to be his brother. Only Stormy never knew he had a brother…
Ryder begs for Stormy’s help in finding Jett’s killer which will require her to go in deep into the MC world, a world of which she had promised herself never to return. Can she trust him to keep her safe? And when sparks start to fly between them, can she trust him with her heart?
AUTHOR’S NOTE: This book is chock full of steamy romance, peppered with tasteful sex scenes, and spiked with a love triangle for good measure. Intended for mature readers. This is a full-length, standalone novel that contains a HEA ending.
DEDICATION
To my one, true love. You are the definition of crazy, passionate, inexplicable love, and this book would not have been possible without you.
-Blakeley
PROLOGUE
After Jett’s funeral, Stormy turned her phone off. She sped home to their little trailer on the outskirts of the city, locked all the doors, and drew all the curtains. She wanted to be alone. She wanted to be alone with her memories, with Jett’s things, with whatever she had left of the life she had loved. She wanted to see if she could feel him around her. She wanted to grieve. She wanted to cry. She didn’t want to be judged, consoled, pitied or stared at.
Stormy ransacked their shared closet and threw on a thick, hooded sweatshirt of Jett’s. It was the closest thing she was going to have to being held by him. She flipped through some pictures of the two of them, but there weren’t many. He always hated to be photographed and Stormy never knew why. He was gorgeous. He had a sort of quiet sex appeal about him. Half-Hispanic and half-Caucasian, he was tan with dark, chocolate brown hair and the most mesmerizing hazel eyes.
She laughed. She cried. She laughed and then she cried some more. She never knew she could experience so many different emotions all at the same time.
She threw herself on the broken-in couch and grabbed one of Jett’s many motorcycle magazines off the coffee table. As the Vice President of the Iron Souls motorcycle club, biking was his life. She flipped through the pages, the pages that Jett himself had once touched, and she felt a little closer to him. She thought about all the trips they were going to take, just the two of them. Trips that, now, would never happen. She thought about hopping on his bike and going solo, but that would require money. Jett had been her sole supporter for the last three years. As his old lady, she didn’t have to work. Now that he was gone, she was going to have to find a way to support herself.
She didn’t want to sell their little trailer, but it was going to be the only way she’d be able to travel the country in his memory. The trailer probably wasn’t worth a lot. He had bought it for her in their hometown a year ago so she’d have a place to stay when they started a family; yet another thing that would never happen now that Jett was gone.
With swollen eyes growing heavy, she laid back down on the couch, covered up with a blanket, and let the tiredness take over. It was an uncommonly chilly, rainy day in June and Stormy just wanted some warmth and comfort. She’d spent the entire day grieving, and she was exhausted.
No sooner had she closed her eyes, did she hear a knock at the front door. She thought about ignoring it. It was probably her mom or Brooklyn stopping by to check on her since her phone had been off all day.
The knocking on the door continued and then continued some more. For a split second, Stormy worried it was someone looking for Jett. There were always random strangers showing up at their place looking for him, but she never had to deal with them. Jett always took care of it.
She peeked out the front window in the living room and saw a bike in her driveway. It was dark outside, but from what she could see it looked like a black BMW cycle, and she had never seen it before in her life.
She wiped her tear-stained face and finger-combed her hair before opening the door. Standing before her was a man the spitting image of her beloved Jett; chocolate hair, hazel eyes, and all.
“Are you Stormy?” he asked.
“Who are you?” she responded.
“I need to talk to you,” he said as he clutched a letter in his hand.
CHAPTER 1
“Wh-who are you?” Stormy stammered. Her heart raced as she waited for the man standing at her front door to speak.
She couldn’t believe Jett was standing in front of her in the flesh, only she knew it wasn’t him. She had just buried him that morning, in the rain, on that insufferable, cold June day. This version of Jett looked a little bit older, a little bit more ripped, and a little bit different. There was something behind his eyes that she’d never seen in another human being before, and yet at the same time his eyes felt like home.
He had Jett’s same chocolate brown hair, and his hazel eyes were framed by the same dark lashes that Jett had. He stood about Jett’s height, slightly taller, and had a few extra pounds of muscle on him, but if she squinted just right, the man standing before her was Jett.
“Ryder,” he said. Even his voice was soothing like Jett’s. “Ryder Jacks.”
Stormy was confused as she tried to wrap her head around who this person was. Was she dreaming? Was he a relative? Did he think she inherited money? Why wasn’t he at the funeral? A million questions swirled around in her mind as she braced herself against the door.
“I’m sorry,” she said as she managed to swallow the lump in her throat. “Are you a relative? A cousin?”
“I’m Jett’s brother,” he said. “May I come in?”
Stormy swung the door open wide and motioned towards the living room. Ryder stepped in and took a look around at the humble little trailer she called home. They hadn’t even begun to decorate it much before Jett was murdered in a bad drug deal and their cozy little life had come to a screeching halt.
His heavy shoes clomped on the beat up faux wood floors as he shuffled his way to the living room and sat down.
“You don’t happen to have anything to drink do you?” he asked. “Beer? Liquor?”
Stormy narrowed her eyes as she hesitated for a moment. She didn’t know this guy yet he had just walked into her house and asked for alcohol.
“Wine,” she said. “I have some wine. That’s it.”
“Wine works,” he said as he sighed and leaned back onto the couch. He seemed to have something heavy weighing on his mind but had no qualms about making himself right at home.
When Stormy returned with two wine goblets filled almost to the top with red wine, Ryder sat up. He sipped his wine, then gulped it, then chugged it until nothing was left. She looked at
his black leather jacket and tried to read the logo on the arm. It was a little skull and crossbones with “Hellfire MC” stitched beneath it. She vaguely remembered Jett talking about a rival motorcycle club – hell something – but she wasn’t sure.
“I’m normally not a drinker,” he said. “I swear.”
Stormy wasn’t convinced.
“It’s fine,” she said. “I needed a drink too.”
“Honest, I’m not,” he insisted. “This is just really weird for me. It’s weird being here. Back in this town.”
Stormy nodded and sipped more of her wine. She had so many questions but didn’t know where to even begin. One second she wanted to wrap her arms around him and pretend he was Jett, but the next second she was wary of Ryder and his intentions. It didn’t feel real to be sitting with a person, Jett’s brother no less, that she didn’t even know existed.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t even know you existed. I’m still kind of in shock.”
“Really? Jett never said anything me?” he asked.
“No. He pretty much implied that he was an only child. Or I guess I just assumed.”
“That’s really, really weird,” he said as he scratched above his eyebrow and then folded his hands in his lap. He leaned forward before cocking his head. “I guess I get it.”
“Well, I don’t get it,” Stormy snipped. “I’d love if you could fill me in. I’m really confused right now.”
“Stormy,” he laughed. When he smiled, all she saw was Jett’s smile, right down to the shape of his perfect, white teeth. “There’s so much more than I could ever begin to tell you. Our family is so complicated. More than you could ever begin to imagine.”
“I want to know everything,” she demanded.
“There’s a reason he didn’t tell you everything,” Ryder retorted. “I should probably respect my brother’s wishes, don’t you think? Maybe he didn’t tell you things as his way of protecting you?”
“Maybe,” Stormy said as she shrunk back in her seat. Her eyes felt hot as the tears began to well up. “Guess I’ll never know, will I?”
Ryder, upon seeing the tears, scooted closer to her. He went to put his arm around her but stopped. It seemed like the natural thing to do, but they were still more or less perfect strangers.
Stormy wiped her eyes. “So what do you want from me, Ryder? Because I’m pretty damn sure I don’t have any money if that’s what you want.”
“Oh, I don’t want any money,” he said as he placed his hand over his chest. “Swear.”
“So why are you here?” Stormy demanded. “What do you want?”
“Because you’re my brother’s widow,” he said. “Jett and I weren’t talking these last few years, but I feel like I owe it to him to make sure you’re okay.”
Stormy paused trying to wrap her head around a concept that made no sense whatsoever.
“So let me get this straight,” she said as she stared him square in the face. “Jett didn’t talk about you, didn’t tell me you existed, but you want to take care of me? Yeah. Right. Makes perfect sense.”
Ryder laughed. “I know it seems crazy. I’m just trying to right some wrongs, you know?
“A little late for that, don’t you think?”
“It’s never too late to do the right thing.” Ryder shifted uncomfortably. “I also want to find out who killed him, and I need your help.”
“The police said it was someone in a rival gang,” she said. “Honestly that’s all I know. I’m afraid I won’t be of much help.”
Stormy rolled her eyes. She was still having a hard time buying what Ryder was trying to sell her. Something seemed fishy.
Ryder’s eyes danced around the room and he took a deep breath. “It was one of my men.”
“What?!” Stormy yelled.
“I’m pretty sure,” he said. “I just need your help because I don’t know for sure.”
“Help? How?”
“If you become my old lady and I bring you into the group, maybe we can see who treats you differently or acts differently around you,” he said.
“Wow,” she replied. “I don’t even know you, Ryder.”
“Ask me anything,” he said.
“When did you move out of Coleville?” she asked. If he wasn’t going to volunteer any information, she figured she could at least ask questions and try to piece something, anything together.
“When I was eighteen,” he said. “I was into some bad stuff. Smuggling cocaine. Got recruited by the Hellfire Motorcycle Club. Never came back.”
“Why didn’t you come back?”
Ryder chuckled as if her question was silly. “Would you want to come back to Coleville if you didn’t have to? I worked my way up to VP. It’s hard to walk away from all that power. Why are you still in Coleville? There’s nothing here.”
“My family’s here. It’s not that bad,” Stormy shrugged.
“Well, when your family is like mine,” he began. “Sometimes it’s not worth coming back for. My mom was a drugged up hooker. My dad left when we were little.”
“So you just abandoned your younger brother? Nice,” she retorted.
“Jett was sixteen when I left. He wasn’t a kid. He could fend for himself. Plus I figured he’d be out of the house sooner or later,” he justified it. “Unfortunately he didn’t take it that well and stopped talking to me.”
“Can’t say that I blame him. Pretty shitty thing to do,” Stormy said as she scowled at him. “But then again, I can’t say I blame you for wanting to get away from your mom. If you can even call her that. Jett told me stories.”
“Good old, Misty,” Ryder said as he stretched his hands back behind his head and sunk back into the couch cushions. “How is that crazy broad doing these days?”
Stormy was a little taken aback by Ryder’s candor, but on the other hand she appreciated that he wasn’t trying to put on an act with her. So far he appeared to be forthcoming and genuine, but only time would tell.
“She hates me,” Stormy said. “That’s about all I know. She thinks I took Jett away from her. Really I told him to stop supporting her drug habit by giving her money every other day.”
“Yeah, she’s obsessed with money,” he said. “And getting her next fix.”
She wanted to ask more questions, but she didn’t want to bombard him just yet. It seemed like a few questions here or there were getting him to open up about things without realizing it. She was going to have to be strategic if she wanted to get any more information from him.
An awkward silence filled the space between them for a few moments until Stormy got up and grabbed their empty wine goblets. The moment she stood up, she felt dizzy. She then remembered she hadn’t eaten all day.
“Whoa,” she said as she braced herself on the arm of the couch.
“Need help?” Ryder asked.
“No, it’s okay,” she said as she swayed her way to the kitchen. She rinsed out the wine goblets and returned to the living room where Ryder was paging through one of Jett’s old magazines that had been sitting on the coffee table.
“We loved motorcycles as kids,” he said as he paged through. “I’m the one who introduced him to the world of bikes.”
Stormy smiled. For a brief moment it felt just like Jett was sitting there, on the couch, in his favorite spot, reading his favorite magazine. For those few seconds, Jett was still there. He wasn’t dead and buried in the cold, hard ground.
“This is really awkward, but do you mind if I stay here tonight?” Ryder asked as he looked up at her with his hazel eyes. “I’ve been riding all day, and I’m exhausted. I could just pass out here on the couch if that’s okay?”
“You’re Jett’s brother. Of course it’s okay,” Stormy said as she went to grab blankets and pillows for him.
She glanced at her watch, which read nine o’clock, and decided it was probably a good time for her to retire as well. Her swollen eyes were so fatigued that she wanted nothing more than to crash for the night, but havi
ng a perfect stranger staying in her house was going to make it a little difficult.
“Here you go,” she said as she tossed him some clean linens and a fluffy pillow. “I hope you don’t mind, I’m going to go to bed now. It’s been a really long day.”
“Yeah, of course,” he said.
“Goodnight,” she said with a shrug as she walked back towards the bedroom.
“Stormy?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for letting me crash here tonight.”
“That’s what family does.”
Stormy locked her bedroom door the minute she got inside. She didn’t know Ryder from Adam, and although she wanted to believe his intentions were good and that he was a good guy, there was a reason Jett never told her about him. She didn’t trust him quite yet, and it was going to take some time.
As soon as she climbed into her bed and under the covers, she tossed and turned as she struggled to shut her mind off. Within minutes, however, her tired body won against her wound up mind and she was out cold.
CHAPTER 2
The moment she opened her eyes, the sun was shining and the alarm clock read a little past seven o’clock. She had hoped to sleep in that day. The more time she spent sleeping, the less time she’d spend mourning Jett. The less hours she had to spend in a world without Jett, the better.
She heard a light rapping on her door.
“Stormy?” a man’s voice called out. “You up?”
Stormy shot up, forgetting for a second that Ryder had stayed the night. She pounced out of bed and unlocked the door.
“Yes,” she said. She only opened the door a few inches, but standing next to him felt just like standing next to Jett. The top of her head lined up right at Ryder’s mouth, about like it did with Jett.
“Do you want to go out for breakfast? I’m starving. My treat,” he offered.
Stormy laughed for the first time in days. “That’s why you’re knocking on my door at seven in the morning?”
Resisting Ryder Page 1