RAW: THE ULTIMATE MC COLLECTION

by Palomino, Honey

  “You need a name,” he said. “You know, until you remember yours.”

  “Oh, yeah? Sure, okay,” I replied. “Any suggestions?”

  “Suggestions? Oh, let’s see…how about Barbie or Bertha?” he said, laughing at his own joke.

  I wrinkled my nose.

  “Do I look like a Barbie or a Bertha? Really?” I asked.

  Ryder laughed, his eyes crinkling at the edges. The neon light from a sign behind the bar reflected off one of the grey hairs on his temple, shimmering in the light. It was enchanting and completely distracting.

  “How old are you?” I asked.

  “Oh, I’m getting up there. I’m forty.”

  “You’ve been in the MC for a long time?” My mind was suddenly flowing with questions for him.

  “Yeah, a really, really long time. My old man was the president before me,” his blue eyes darkened when he mentioned his father.

  “And your Mom?” I asked. His eyes widened, and he looked away before he answered me under his breath. “Long gone. She’s long gone. She died a while back, but she was dead to me before then.”

  “Oh,” I said quietly. I saw just a glimmer of pain in his eyes before he looked away, shutting down any flicker of emotion before it could surface. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all good, no worries. She didn’t know the first thing about being a mother, so it’s good she wasn’t around. I’m better off for it, clearly!” he said, spreading his arms to his sides.

  I smiled, shaking my head at his sarcasm. Truth was, he seemed just fine to me. He obviously had a different opinion of himself.

  “So, what exactly does the club do? What does the President of the Gods of Chaos do?” I thought that might be a forbidden question, but I asked anyway.

  “I do a lot of things. I make the decisions about what jobs to take. What direction the club is going to go in. It’s a democracy, though. We vote. Sometimes, I veto the vote,” he said, chuckling.

  It was a vague answer, but I decided not to press the issue. I had other things on my mind, and as much I wanted to know everything about him, including what he looked like under that cut, I had bigger questions to ask.

  “I’m glad we have some time to talk,” I said, between scarfing down bites of my burger. “I have so many questions for you.”

  “Apparently, you do. But first, we were deciding on a name for you,” he reminded me.

  “Oh, right. I got, um…,” my gaze landed on the grey hair on his temple again, still shimmering amongst the dark ones, still distracting me, still forcing me to use all my strength not to reach out and caress it, “…distracted. A name, okay, let’s see. Maybe I should pick it? You seem to only know the most awful names in existence.”

  He laughed, throwing his head back, the sides of his eyes crinkling again, my insides melting with yearning for his touch.

  Why was I thinking like this? Why did he have this pull that I couldn’t shake?

  “I got it,” I said.

  “You do? Okay, wait,” he said, wiping his hands on his jeans before offering his hand for me to shake across the table.

  “Hello, nice to meet you. I’m Ryder,” he said, a twinkle in his eye.

  What a charmer, I thought, as I put my hand in his.

  “I’m Samantha,” I said, letting the name roll off my tongue. “But you can call me Sam. Nice to meet you, Ryder.”

  He shook my hand briefly, but then brought my palm up and brushed his lips against the back of it.

  “Sam,” he said, his intense gaze staring right through me. “I like that.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “I think I do, too.” And I did. It felt good. Solid. I needed solid.

  “Okay,” he said, smiling. “Sam. Now, what questions can I answer for you?” he said, taking a swing from his beer after winking at me handsomely.

  “Oh, questions. Right.” I was a mess. My focus should have been on looking around the bar, maybe combing through the paper, driving through town even, but instead I was sitting here in this booth with Ryder acting like a damned kid on a date. I should have been hysterical. And deep down, I was. The panic and terror I felt was like a big, black box in my stomach that I was doing everything I could to shove even deeper.

  So, maybe I was distracting myself.

  Maybe I didn’t want to remember.

  Or, maybe Ryder was just that goddamned sexy. I was a woman, after all. And he was a man. A white-hot, devastatingly handsome, strong and protective man that had saved my life. And while I may not remember who the fuck I was, I was well aware of the sparks that were flying between us. And what a delicious distraction they were.

  I knew something out there was waiting for me. I knew the truth was out there, but instead of giddy anticipation, all I felt was dread when I thought about recovering my memories. My intuition was still there. And whatever was waiting for me, whatever truth would be unveiled eventually, that intuitive sense was warning me of something.

  There’s a reason you don’t remember, I thought.

  I watched Ryder drinking his beer, his burger consumed long ago, waiting patiently to offer any help I needed.

  “On the night you found me,” I said, taking a deep breath, “where was I exactly?” I had been going over what he told me in my head, and there were so many holes.

  “On the side of the road that leads to my clubhouse from the highway,” he replied.

  “Okay, and you were alone when you found me?”

  “Yep,” he nodded.

  “And? So, what happened?” I was frustrated. I wanted all the answers at once and having to ask all these little questions to get the whole picture was infuriating.

  His muscles flexed as he brought his beer bottle to his full lips again, and I licked my lips as I watched him swallow. His every move was a distraction, and my body was reacting in ways that were in complete contrast with my brain. I wanted answers, I needed answers, but the intensity of his unwavering attention was dissolving every ounce of my resistance to those sparks between us.

  My nipples hardened, and I grew even more frustrated. Did I not have any control over my body at all? As if to answer my silent question, Ryder reached over the table, using his napkin to wipe the side of my mouth.

  “Ketchup,” he said, as if we had known each other for years. The gesture was so simple, so meaningless, yet so intimate, that it stopped my racing brain in its tracks.

  Slow down, it said.

  Relax, it said.

  Everything is going to be just fine, it said.

  No, you don’t have even one ounce of control, so just chill the fuck out.

  And he didn’t even know it. He sat there, unaware, drinking his beer and acting as if the entire universe didn’t hinge on this moment. For him, it didn’t. I was just some woman that fell into his path, some temporary distraction that would be gone in a few days’ time. But for me, he was all I had.

  And I was enthralled. It was as if going to a candy store and finding only one, perfect piece of chocolate waiting for you. Because, really, did you truly need anything else?

  My gaze had drifted away with my thoughts once again, and his deep voice brought me back to him.

  “I want to show you something. Finish your beer,” he said, gesturing to my half-empty glass.

  He paid the bill, and within moments, we were flying down the winding road again, the sun slowly setting in the distance ahead of us. A few miles later, and we were on the 101, traveling north along the coast, the majestic cliffs towering over the crashing waves below.

  Ryder pulled off the highway, parking the bike next to a steep flight of stairs that led down to the beach below. We left our helmets on the bike, and he grabbed my hand, intertwining his fingers in mine, as he led me down the stairs. Once again, tall trees towered around us, obscuring any view of the ocean until we reached the bottom.

  When our feet finally sank into the sand, I looked up and gasped at the gorgeous sight in front of me. I was delighted by it all. I reached down and
grabbed a handful of sand, letting it run through my fingers. It was soft. Cold. Solid and yet completely fragmented all at once. My boots sank into it with each step as Ryder guided me further towards the water.

  The sunset was magnificent.

  Pink and purple streaks lay over a deep, indigo background, the ocean crashing onto the shore in a splash of blue and white and grey. I let go of Ryder’s hand and took off running towards the water.

  The waves were so strong, the wind whipping up around them, as they crashed violently onto the beach, sliding along the slick sand like one, big, long snake, and then slinking back into the water, untouchable, unstoppable.

  Relentlessly powerful, its beauty pulled me in, hypnotized me.

  Ryder’s hand on the small of my back pulled me out of my reverie.

  “I thought you might like this,” he whispered in my ear. I leaned back into him, his arms sliding around me warmly, as if we had stood here a million times before.

  “I do,” I answered. “How is it possible that I feel like I’ve seen this view hundreds of times, and yet I feel like I’ve never seen it until right now, all at the same time? Nothing makes sense.”

  “I know. I can’t imagine how you must feel. I wish there was something I could do, I really do.”

  I pressed back into him again, and his arms tightened around me. I needed this comfort, this human contact. I needed a hug.

  I turned around and melted into his arms, burying my face in his chest. His huge biceps engulfed me, and I felt tiny in his embrace. I felt safe. I breathed in deeply, inhaling his scent - leather, always the leather - mixed with the saltiness of the ocean air. Over and over, I breathed it all in - great, deep, gulping breaths - as if I had been starving for air, starving for the comfort of Ryder’s arms, anyone’s arms. My breathing turned to sobs. Before I knew what was happening, tears spilled from my eyes as I cried in his arms.

  He held me tightly, caressing my hair, murmuring reassuring words that I couldn’t hear. The crashing waves and my own sobbing drowned out everything else.

  I pulled away, and Ryder reached down, tipping my face up to his and wiping the tears from my cheek with his thumb.

  “I’m nobody, Ryder,” my lips quivered as I spoke to him. Sadness and desperation washed over me. “I have no where to go. No past. No future. I’m like a lost ship, all alone out in the ocean, no solid foundation below me, no compass, no sense of direction to guide me home. I have no idea which way to turn.”

  His eyes darkened as he pulled me closer, his voice low and deep and solid.

  “Sam, it doesn’t matter who you are. What matters is your heart. That’s the part of you that’s true, that won’t ever change. All that other stuff can be re-learned, and what you don’t remember, well, there’s probably a good reason for that. But your heart? That’s what’s true. Everything’s going to be okay, Sam. Let your heart be your compass. Let it guide you in the right direction. In the meantime, just relax and let me be your lighthouse.”

  His lips came crashing onto mine like the waves crashing onto the shore behind me, and I melted into his arms, his kiss warm and soft and full of such sweet passion that it almost broke my heart. I could feel him holding back, his desire to be gentle with me fighting with the growing desires of a man. His cock throbbed hard between us and I pressed my body into him, kissing him back fervently, wanting to somehow let him know how much I needed him, too.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Ryder

  Rock music poured out of the windows of the clubhouse as we roared up. Dozens of my brothers, all wearing Gods of Chaos cuts, were streaming in and out of the door, while others were outside, bottles of beer and whiskey clutched in tattooed fists, standing in a circle and cheering on whatever was going on inside. I couldn’t see through the crowd, but I knew what was there. I groaned as I took off my helmet, shaking my head to warn Sam that it might not be so pleasant.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “Riot. Slade. They’re fucking idiots,” I said.

  “What are they doing?” The sound of a loud smack echoed through the trees, followed by a loud raucous cheer from the crowd.

  “Bleeding, probably,” I replied, shaking my head. “You can see for yourself. Come on.” I grabbed her hand, pulling her through the crowd.

  When we broke through, Riot was pinned to the ground and Slade was sitting on top of him. They were covered in dirt, their bare chests streaked with blood and mud. Huge smiles stretched across both of their faces, as they beamed at each other through blood-stained teeth.

  “Looks like we got here just in time for the after-fight make out session,” I said, just as Slade jumped off Riot, grabbing Riot’s outstretched hand and hoisted him up to his feet. They hugged, patting each other on the back hard, and then threw their arms around each other and walked out of the circle. Another raucous round of cheering erupted from the crowd as they parted to let them pass through. Slade reached down and scooped up a helmet at his feet that was overflowing with crumpled cash. Victoriously, he held it up over his head as he passed by.

  “Hey, Ryder,” Slade said, grinning.

  “Hey, Slade. You win today?"

  “Sure did, brother!” he replied.

  “I let this mother fucker win!” Riot said, his cheek smeared with drying blood. “I can’t stand the sight of his little girl tears when he loses!”

  “Yeah, yeah, you fucks are insane,” I said, turning to Sam. “You want another drink?”

  “Sure, a beer sounds great,” she replied, as the crowd began thinning out, everyone spreading out around the various bikes parked in front of the house or going inside.

  I glanced down at her, and felt my heart skip a beat. Those fucking eyes of hers were going to kill me if I didn’t get a fucking grip on myself.

  I reached down, quickly brushing those full, perfect fucking lips with mine. She tasted like salt, and I felt my cock swell as I kissed her again.

  If I hadn’t been so hyper-aware of everyone around us, I would have done a hell of a lot more than kiss her. But I didn’t. I stopped. Turned. Left her there.

  Like an asshole.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Grace

  I looked around as Ryder walked inside, feeling completely at a loss with what to do with myself.

  I spotted Cherry and Tiff on the porch, leaning against the railing, and I walked over to them. Tiff smiled and Cherry squinted her eyes, her gaze traveling from my head to my toes.

  “Well, well, well,” she slurred, her eyes bloodshot and watery, “if it isn’t Sleeping Beauty!”

  “Sam,” I said. “You can call me Sam.”

  “Sam? Did you remember who you are then?” Tiff asked, excitedly.

  “Oh, no,” I said, looking away, wishing that I had. “Nothing’s come back. Ryder and I just decided I needed a name in the meantime.”

  “Ryder and I?” Cherry snarled. Her lip curled and she looked at me with disgust.

  “Um, well…” I wasn’t sure how to respond to her. She was obviously completely wasted.

  “So, now you and Ryder are ‘Ryder and I’?” she asked, making air quotation marks with her hands. She lost her balance as she let go of the post, and swayed against Tiff. Tiff barely caught her, saving her from crashing down the front steps.

  “You know,” she said, leaning in to me, her breath stinking of cigarettes and whiskey. “Ryder doesn’t do that.”

  “Doesn’t do what?” I asked.

  “Relationships!” she spat out the word, and I moved away from her. “He’s not the “Ryder and I” kind of guy, sugar, if you know what I mean,” she continued.

  “Cherry! Stop,” Tiff said, looking at me apologetically.

  “It’s okay,” I said.

  “It’s okay,” Cherry repeated, mockingly. Cherry had been so nice earlier this morning, hell, everyone had, and it took me completely off guard to see her being so nasty now.

  “Are you okay, Cherry?” I asked.

  “Fuck you!�
� she said. “You think you can waltz your pretty ass in here and just take over Ryder’s bed, like you’re the only piece of ass in his life! No, Ryder doesn’t do that, bitch! You think he wants more from you than that fresh little pussy between your legs?” She reached down, and to my utter amazement, cupped my pussy in her palm and squeezed. I jumped back as fast as I could.

  “Cherry, I…” Why was she saying these things to me? Was she fucking him? Of course she was. I was at a complete loss for words. And then she lunged at me again.

  I didn’t even realize what was happening until I felt her hand tangled in my hair, trying to pull me to the ground. I yanked back with all my strength, and she fell down on the porch, a handful of my hair wrapped around her fingers, as I stared down at her with astonishment.

  “Cherry, what the fuck!” Tiff yelled at her. “God, Sam, I’m so fucking sorry…” her voice trailed off as she leaned down to help Cherry to her feet.

  I walked away, pushed through the crowd that was forming again, no doubt waiting for the next bout of entertainment. I wasn’t about to be it.

  I ran down the steps and past the bikes, my footsteps quickening as I headed down the dirt road.

  I needed to get away. I needed to be alone. I needed time to think.

  What the fuck was Cherry talking about? Her words sank in as my feet carried me farther away from the clubhouse and I began to realize just how much of a fool I had been. Of course Ryder wasn’t that type. What was I thinking? Of course he would be involved with all those women there.

  He had saved me. So what?

  He had sat by my bedside for days, waiting for me to wake up. So what?

  He had offered his home, his bed, his food, his time, even the comfort of his arms, for as long as I needed it. So what?

  He had kissed me on the beach with such intense passion that it calmed every panicking voice inside my head. So what?

  What did any of that mean?

  It didn’t mean a fucking thing. Was I really that much of a fool? Had the amnesia made me forget the basic traits of men? Especially drop-dead gorgeous leather-wrapped men with the swagger and confidence of Ryder. He could have any woman he wanted. And I’m sure he did, and often, too.