Tripp (Knights Corruption MC Series Book 4)

by S. Nelson

  Tripp

  Copyright © 2017 S. Nelson

  Tripp/ S.Nelson.—1st edition

  ISBN-13: 978–1541002340

  ISBN-10: 1541002342

  Editing by

  Hot Tree Editing

  Cover Design by

  CT Cover Creations

  Interior Design and Formatting by

  Christine Borgford, Type A Formatting

  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 author, 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, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the publisher’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Tripp

  Prologue

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Thirty-Two

  Thirty-Three

  Thirty-Four

  Thirty-Five

  Thirty-Six

  Thirty-Seven

  Thirty-Eight

  Thirty-Nine

  Forty

  Forty-One

  Forty-Two

  Forty-Three

  Forty-Four

  Forty-Five

  Forty-Six

  Forty-Seven

  Forty-Eight

  Epilogue

  Coming Soon

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Other Books by S. Nelson

  If there is ever a time you feel like you just want to give up, dig deep to find your strength and continue to forge ahead. The results will be that much more rewarding.

  “Stop! It’s not what you think,” she cried, clutching the back of my cut and trying to pull me off the man I found in our bedroom. In our fucking bed. “Tripp, please. . . .”

  I wrenched my body to the side. It took only seconds before she got the hint and her hands fell to her sides.

  “If you don’t back the fuck up, Rachel, you’re gonna regret it,” I warned. The blood pumping in my veins was thick, my heart threatening to explode the more enraged I became. I’d never put my hands on a woman in anger before, but this bitch was pushing my limits for sure. Bad things happened when I lost control, and although I’d be justified to flip the fuck out right then, I still tried to keep it together. As best I could.

  My thoughts pored over the past couple months, trying like hell to shove the haze of red from my vision. The mysterious incoming texts late at night. The sudden trips out with friends she hadn’t spoken to in months, if not years. The out-of-town trips she suddenly had to take to visit a sick relative, someone I’d never heard her mention before. All of her excuses should have screamed she was fuckin’ around, but I’d been so busy with all the shit goin’ on at the club I simply took her at her word.

  What a big fuckin’ mistake.

  “You think you can fuck my woman and get away with it!” I roared, slamming the stranger against the wall, the thud of his head hitting the plaster echoing around the room. “I hope she was worth it ’cause now I’m gonna kill ya.”

  The guy sucked in a strangled breath, his eyes popping wide as I tightened my grip around his throat. He clawed at my hands, but it was useless. I knew I wasn’t gonna snatch his life, but I sure as hell wasn’t gonna tell either one of them that.

  What the fuck did she see in this guy, anyway? His long hair was unkempt, his beard scraggly at best. I towered over the guy, and while I realized I was larger than most, my size didn’t detract from the puniness of the man she’d chosen to fuck around with behind my back.

  In retrospect, I’d stupidly decided to be faithful to Rachel. I’d had plenty of opportunities to fuck around, but I’d made a commitment. I thought we both had. I was a one-woman type of man, which was quite the conundrum in the lifestyle I’d chosen. Pussy flowed easily for everyone involved in the Knights Corruption. Shit, for all the clubs I’d known. And while most chose to partake, there were a select few who chose one woman and one woman only.

  Foolishly, I’d been one of them.

  As I glanced at Rachel, my heart splintered a little more with each passing second. She was still trying to convince me to let go of the guy, fear in her eyes at what she thought I was gonna do. She had feelings for this fucker, which meant whatever she’d felt toward me had waned. We had our issues but I thought we were good . . . all things considered.

  “Please,” she continued to beg. “Let him go, Tripp. I promise it won’t happen again.” She grabbed my arm and tried to yank me back, but her feeble attempts only served to irritate me further. I needed to get outta there, but not until I’d finished teaching them both a lesson. Squeezing tighter still, I only released my grip when the guy’s eyes closed, his lungs ceasing to struggle for air. I hadn’t killed him, although I wanted to; I’d merely choked him out. As soon as I backed away, releasing my hand from around his throat, his limp body slumped to the floor. I waited to see if Rachel would rush toward him but she didn’t, although her eyes kept flicking from mine to his and then back again.

  Turning fully toward her, I shook my head when I saw the look of fright on her face. She had no idea what I had planned for her, probably thinking I’d killed her lover and that she was next. Apparently, she didn’t know me at all. Or did she? I’d killed before, sure. Numerous times, in fact, but always in retaliation or defense. Never because of infidelity. Although, I’d never been put in this type of situation before.

  Stalking toward her, I assessed her body language.

  Fear.

  Regret?

  Didn’t matter. I was done with her, but that didn’t stop me from retaliating. Her back slammed against the wall, her hands coming up in front of her to protect our bodies from colliding. I came to a halt inches from where she stood pinned, my jaw clenched and nostrils flaring. I was so enraged I had no idea what to say. I wanted to wrap my hands around her throat just like I’d done with that fucker, but instead I kept them at my sides. My nails dug into my palms, drawing some of my attention away from thoughts of hurting her.

  When moments passed and still I hadn’t moved, she reached out and cupped my face. “I’m so sorry, baby. It’ll never happen again. I swear.” She flicked her eyes to the unconscious man and then back to me. It was then I noticed her pupils were dilated. She was on something, but since her choice of drug varied, I had no idea what it was. “I’ve just . . . been so lonely. You’re always gone, and when you’re here, you’re not really with me.”

  I gasped as if she’d sucker punched me in the gut. “Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me? You’re trying to blame me for you bein’ a whore?�
� Fury boiled my blood. I jerked my head away from her hand, her fingers falling from my face. I stepped closer, my chest brushing against hers. She stood before me completely naked. Having caught them in bed together, she’d never had the chance to throw on clothes. And while the thought of fucking her senseless normally arrested me whenever I saw her big tits and round ass, her standing before me with not a stitch of clothing on right then only served to disgust me.

  Another man had been inside her. Tasted her. Promised her God only knew what, and from the looks she kept sneaking at him, she professed her own hopes and dreams to that bastard as well.

  She reached for my hands, but I shrugged her off. “I’m not blaming you. But you can’t blame me either. I know you’ve fucked around on me, and although I didn’t cheat to get back at you, I’m not gonna stand here and let you intimidate me anymore.”

  “What the fuck are you talkin’ about?” I yelled. “I haven’t fucked anyone else for the past two years. Ever since we agreed to be together.” As for the other bullshit she spewed, I couldn’t help it. At six four and two hundred thirty pounds, I couldn’t help but intimidate most people, even her. I admitted that I used my size to get what I wanted most of the time, and if I were being honest, I loved that she felt inferior right then.

  Her eyes darkened, her posture becoming rigid all in the blink of an eye. Rachel could be a bitch when she wanted and right then was a prime example, trying to turn the tables on me to excuse her abhorrent behavior.

  “You can say whatever you want, Tripp. I know you’ve fucked around, but I’m not gonna stand here and try to convince you to come clean.” Pointing toward the man on the floor, she said, “I fucked him. Plenty of times. And now it’s over, so the sooner you forgive me the sooner we can get back to us.” Rachel had done a complete one-eighty in the span of minutes. At first, she played off her actions with remorse, apologizing with a look of guilt plastered on her face and riddled in her voice. And then she tried to blame me for fuckin’ around, acting as if her cheating was merely a bump in the road of our relationship. As if that shit was normal and should be forgiven with no questions asked.

  I wasn’t gonna lie. She hurt me. But I wasn’t gonna sit there and cry about it either. I refused to embarrass myself by givin’ her the time of day any longer. No, she fucked up . . . and good.

  I need alcohol.

  Slamming my hands on the wall, one on each side of her head, I shouted, “Fuck you!” A quick thought of head-butting her flitted through my brain, and while the image satisfied me, I would never do such a thing. Retreating a step, I said, “We’re fuckin’ done. Get your shit and get out.” Turning my back on her, I strode toward the hallway, shouting over my shoulder. “When I get back, you better not be here.”

  I heard her yelling but ignored her as I slammed the front door behind me. Two minutes later I was on the open road, embracing the wind and the feel of my bike between my legs. The rumble and vibrations calmed me. My grip on the handlebars loosened the farther I rode, putting as much distance as I could between me and the woman who fucked me over.

  Had I known how my night would turn out, I might have stayed at home and watched her leave instead.

  Tripp

  Lying in bed I took a deep breath, willing the ache from my body, but it was useless. The evidence of the life I’d lived riddled my skin. I’d been shot more times than I’d like to recount, though thankfully nothing had happened to me in the past year. It was a nice change of events.

  Absently tracing the scar near my heart, I thought about what I had to take care of later that day. Sighing, all I wanted to do was close my eyes and go back to sleep, but Marek wanted me to check out how shit was goin’ at the new titty bar, Indulge. I had a hand in hiring the last round of talent, and four out of the five were still employed. We’d fired one of them for doing drugs; that shit just wasn’t tolerated.

  I believed someone had been hired to replace the chick we got rid of, but I wasn’t sure. I’d been out of the mix for the past couple weeks, helping my prez deal with the final obstacle we faced.

  Psych Brooks.

  Leader of our most hated enemy, the Savage fuckin’ Reapers.

  All the brothers had taken turns standing guard to make sure that bastard got exactly what he deserved. Strung up like an animal in the basement of our club’s safe house, he’d been deprived of adequate food and water, only being provided with the minimal amount to keep the breath in his lungs.

  Daily beatings occurred, mostly at the hands of Marek, then Stone and Jagger. And that was because Psych had fucked with all three of their women. Sully had received the brunt of his abuse her entire life, seeing as how she was the daughter of the evil bastard. Her father never protected her, not once in all the years she lived with him. Shit, I hated even calling him her father, because he certainly was not.

  When I broached the subject of Psych’s demise, asking Marek when he was gonna end the fucker’s existence, a sadistic grin lifted the corners of his mouth. Normally the image would have been out of character for the leader of the Knights, but whenever the subject of his wife’s father was mentioned, the look was expected. “I’m not done with him yet,” Marek would always respond. I understood, and while I agreed that he should drag out the man’s torture as long as possible, I also wanted to be done with him. We needed to move on, and put the last link to our old life to rest once and for all.

  But all in due time, I supposed.

  Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I quickly stood and stretched my arms above my head, chasing away the last traces of sleep. Padding toward the bathroom, my mind was a flurry of thoughts, none of them bringing me an ounce of comfort. I was up next in the rotation at the safe house, and while I didn’t mind gettin’ a little bloody in the name of payback, I’d much rather chill out at home.

  After a hasty shower, I grabbed some clothes from my closet, dressed, and snatched my keys. An hour later I pulled up to the safe house, shutting off my bike’s engine and glancing around the garage to see who else would be joining me, if anyone. Looked like I was the first to arrive. Never paying much attention to who was scheduled to show up when, I strolled inside the house with thoughts of gettin’ this shit over with so I could hit up The Underground on the way back. My home away from the clubhouse. The club’s bar didn’t bring in much of a profit, but it was my go-to when I didn’t want to be surrounded by everyone.

  We were on strict orders to keep shit as quiet as possible, so no more than three men were allowed at the house at any given time. Marek feared if people came and went at all hours, we’d draw too much attention and the neighbors would get suspicious. My thought, however, was that anyone who lived close would keep to themselves, fearing what would happen if they butted their noses into our business. The few times we did see our neighbors they averted their eyes and hustled inside their homes, slamming their doors before we even had the chance to nod hello. Not that we were out to make friends, but a welcoming acknowledgment here and there couldn’t hurt. At least, that was my take on it.

  Strolling through the kitchen, I snagged a beer from the fridge before venturing into the basement. The creak of the wooden steps echoed through the enclosed space, the ominous sound perking my ears with each thump of my foot. The scene I walked into was straight out of some horror movie.

  A man shackled to a wall, head hung low and beaten so badly he was barely recognizable. But it wasn’t some low-budget film; it was fuckin’ real life, and the strung-up man was evil personified. Psych Brooks deserved every bit of pain he’d endured, plus whatever was left in our arsenal to deliver. So far, most of his teeth had been knocked out and his jaw was broken, which made eating impossible. The leader of the Reapers was on borrowed time since he could no longer take in food, so we made good with the time he had left. All the fingers on his right hand had been broken, along with his left femur. He’d howled when Stone had taken a sledgehammer to his leg, his wails the sweetest sound to our club’s VP.

  I was
more of a subtle torture kind of guy—rubbing salt into tiny slits in the skin, shoving sharp objects under the fingernails, that sort of shit.

  Once I’d hit the last step, I covered my nose with my hand. “Holy fuck, it reeks down here!” For a split second I thought I saw Psych lift his head and grin, but it could have been my eyes playing tricks on me. The man was more than beaten down, holding on to the last remaining threads of his life.

  Marek had told us all that with each of our visits we were to inflict some sort of pain on Psych, making sure to save the big shit for him. Broken bones, stretching his limbs by tugging on the chains—all that sort of shit was permissible, but no one was to slice him open or cut off anything. That was to be left for our prez.

  Ever since Sully had come into Marek’s life, I’d witnessed the changes in him. Before her, he was a serious guy, but pretty laid-back. Not too much rattled him. He took things as they came, reacting when necessary and taking appropriate action.

  These days, Marek barely cracked a smile, except when his wife was around. He’d aged a few years in the short span of time since her arrival. His expression was a constant grimace, and his eyes had taken on a darkness only a few of us could relate to. But it was all understandable. Knowing what Psych had done to his daughter her entire life, what he allowed others to do to her, gutted Marek. He didn’t have to voice it in order for it to be known to all of us. I only prayed that after he finally had the chance to purge, after he was able to rid the world of Psych, he’d go back to the man I once knew.

  Revenge had a funny way of flipping you on your ass, however. For so long, thoughts of getting even fueled the desire for justification. But when it was all said and done, sometimes all you had left was a shell of your former self.

  As I reached for the chains, knowing my form of torture that day was gonna be to stretch Psych’s arms so far above his head he’d have to step on his tippy-toes or else risk popping out his shoulders, I heard footsteps above me.

  “Grab me another beer,” I shouted toward the stairs, not givin’ a damn who was there as long as they brought me a replacement. I was gonna be there for a while and wanted extra suds to help deal with what was to come. I’d never say I was a fan of inflicting pain, but the shit didn’t faze me either.