Broken (Motorcycle Club Romance): Ryder and Sawyer 1 (Fallen Idols Motorcycle Club Book 3)

by Rylan, Savannah

  Broken

  Fallen Idols MC 3

  Ryder and Sawyer Book 1

  Savannah Rylan

  Broken

  Published By Savannah Rylan Books

  Copyright © 2015 Savannah Rylan

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places or events are entirely the work of the author. Any resemblance to actual persons, events, or places is entirely coincidental.

  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. Please purchase only authorized editions and do not participate in piracy of copyrighted materials.

  Cover art by Cover Up Designs

  ONE

  SAWYER

  Five years ago, I swore to myself that I’d never set foot back into Brooks Landing. Me, and the secret I took with me, were to never return. The club and everything that went with it was no longer a part of me. They had already taken too much. Dad might not be dead, but with a life sentence in prison, he might as well be.

  Then, one phone call had me packing my bags, and hightailing it back. Mom needed me.

  And, even though I despised the club for what they did to my family, I wouldn’t let them keep me away from my sick mother. Leaving her behind was hard. She was always there for me when I needed her. Growing up, she never missed a single game or concert, and even went as far as joining the bitches of the PTA. A part of me wished I had told her; she would’ve made the darkest time in my life a little brighter, but another part knew with Dad locked up here, she’d never leave Brooks Landing. And I was right.

  I tried talking her into getting treatment in New York, but she refused to leave home, and I refused to let her do this alone. So, I swallowed my pride, and hopped on the next flight out of New York and headed back home.

  I’d been in town for a couple days. I was sure word had spread. There were eyes and ears everywhere in this damn town. You couldn’t even wipe your ass in peace. I sure as hell didn’t miss it.

  What I did miss, however, was the park on Marigold where Dad taught me how to ride a bike. The ice cream shop down by the boardwalk that had the best brownie sundaes I’d ever had. Most of all, I missed my family—at least what was left of them.

  I looked out the window of my childhood home, and spotted my brother in the driveway, working on Dad’s old bike. Mom mentioned he’d been tinkering, and was determined to get it back on the road.

  The unmistaken sound of motorcycles roared past the house, and I peeked through the blinds, looking for the Club’s cuts.

  Instead of seeing Fallen Idols sprawled across the leather, I saw the token Las Almas skulls and curvy letters. I might’ve been out of the loop for five years, but that didn’t matter. I could’ve been gone twenty, and I’d still be able to guarantee one thing: Las Almas did not belong in Fallen Idols territory.

  When they stopped in front of my house, my jaw nearly hit the floor. Cruz, my little brother, walked over to them, and I rubbed my eyes to make sure I wasn’t imagining this. Two thoughts flashed through my mind. The first was, those Las Almas guys had balls. Second, my brother was a goddamned idiot. Was he trying to get himself killed?

  What the fuck had been going on since I left? It didn’t matter. I was back, and this shit wasn’t going to fly.

  I stormed outside, about to lay into my brother, when I heard Cruz say, “You can’t come here. You’re going to get us caught.”

  “Cruz?” I called out to him.

  “Shit,” he mumbled, as the two guys turned their hard gazes on me.

  Cruz took after my mother, his dark features reflecting our Mexican heritage. It was like he had nothing in common with my father and I. He looked like he belonged with the Las Almas.

  Over my dead fucking body. It didn’t matter how much he resembled them physically, they were the opposite of everything my family stood for. “What’s going on here?”

  “Nothing. They’re just asking for directions,” Cruz lied, and he knew I didn’t believe him. His lip twitched, and I could tell he was talking out of his ass.

  “Hopefully, you’re sending them back to their own town. Don’t want any problems here.”

  I stood my ground, not allowing fear to overtake me.

  “We detoured. Got lost in the neighborhood,” the guy with the goatee and black bandana on his head said, inching his bike up my driveway. “Why don’t you come hop on my bike, and show me personally how to get back to the highway?”

  “Why don’t you get the fuck off my property before I call the cops on you for trespassing? Or, maybe, for drug possession with the intent to sell.”

  Mr. Goatee held up his hands. “I don’t have any on me.”

  A devilish smile settled on my face. “Are you sure about that?” This was Idol’s territory, which meant the cops in this town, or at least one faithful one, was on their payroll, not Las Almas.

  He scratched at the hair on his face. “She’s a feisty one, isn’t she, gringo?” he said to Cruz, boiling my blood.

  “What did you call him?”

  His dark gaze raked over me like an animal sizing up its prey. “You get pretty when you’re mad,” he said, licking his lips, and making me want to vomit on his cheap ass boots.

  I narrowed my eyes at him. I knew his type: a misogynist pig that expected women to bow down to him. Cower in terror. That’s what Las Almas was all about. Beating their old ladies and treating them like objects to fuck, instead of people. That’s the only thing I’d give to the Fallen Idols. They were good to their girls. They didn’t tolerate that other shit.

  Another motorcycle echoed in the distance, and the guy who’d hung back called to his overzealous friend. “Ese, let’s go.”

  The slimebag didn’t take his eyes off of me as he backed down my driveway. I didn’t waver. I would never let him think that he scared me. I didn’t break my stone cold stare until they were no more than a speck in the rising sun.

  Once they were out of sight, I turned to Cruz. “What the fuck was that about?” I pointed to the street where those two enemies were just parked.

  “I told you, I was giving directions.”

  “Don’t bullshit me. You stay away from them. You hear me?”

  He pushed passed me. “You’ve been back for what? A day? Two? And you think you can tell me what to do? I don’t think so.”

  I knew he was mad at me for leaving. Everybody was. “Just because I left, doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. You are my brother. And those guys are bad news. I already lost Dad to a jail cell. I’m not going to lose you too. Or worse...” I couldn’t even say it. Thinking of my seventeen-year-old brother six feet under, ripped deep in my gut, and scared the shit out of me.

  I looked over at Cruz. The man he just was, standing tall talking to Las Almas, turned into the twelve year old boy I remembered. His dark eyes clouded with sadness, but with one single blink, he was gone again. “I’ve been taking care of myself long enough. I don’t need you to tell me how to survive.”

  Cruz stormed off, and slammed the front door.

  Welcome home, Sawyer.

  TWO

  RYDER

  Sawyer had been back for two days, and I had yet to see her, but that didn’t keep her from fucking with my head. So, like a
pathetic goddamned loser, I drove by her house in hopes of catching a glimpse of her. I didn’t even know what I would do if I saw her. I just couldn’t stay away, knowing she was so close.

  I hated her guts for leaving me. For disappearing into the night without a single shred of evidence as to where she was going. Still, a part of me didn’t hate Sawyer at all. That part was a dark and empty place, but it was there, and it missed the hell out of her.

  I parked my bike down the street, and looked at the house that used to be like a second home to me. Now, it was a reminder of Sawyer’s betrayal, and the black hole that I spiraled into when she left. If it weren’t for the club, I’d probably be dead in a ditch somewhere. Then again, I had a feeling the club was the reason Sawyer left me to begin with. The MC destroyed me, and yet saved me; talk about a fucked up double-edged sword.

  The front door opened. Even through the dark night, I could make out every beautiful inch of Sawyer. Her long legs were bare in a tiny pair of shorts, and I imagined them wrapped around me, her foot digging into my ass, urging me deeper. Her blonde hair fell loose around her face, and I yearned to tuck it back into place behind her ear. God, I was a fucking pussy!

  One look at her, and I was a freaking teenage boy who couldn’t control his dick. I needed to get away from her. Being there was a mistake. So, with one last glance, I hopped on my bike, and rode the hell out of there.

  I pulled up to Raven’s Nest, and went right in. My shift behind the bar didn’t start for an hour, but I needed some sort of release.

  Rev, a cigarette hanging from his mouth, sat at the bar talking with Larry, the bartender on duty. Blaze, a new prospect, sat to Rev’s right, nursing a beer. I wasn’t in the mood to talk or drink. I had something else in mind.

  Candy was in the corner, just waiting for one of the members to have their way with her. She’d been trying to get with me for months, but she was used more times than a fucking bus, and I didn’t like sloppy fifths. But, tonight, I needed to get Sawyer off my mind.

  I held my finger up, and beckoned Candy to come to me. She instantly straightened, pushing her tits up, before strutting my way.

  She winked at me, and I was surprised with all that black shit caked on her eyelashes that she was able to do so.

  Her scrawny arms linked around my neck, and she pressed her mouth against my ear. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time. Where do you want me?”

  I took her hand, and guided her to the backroom, but the door was locked, so I went to the next door. I turned the knob, and yanked her into the men’s room. It would have to do. Besides, I wasn’t doing this for pleasure. The only thing I wanted was release.

  “Get on your knees,” I said, and dropped my pants. My cock sprang out, ready and waiting.

  “I like a man who takes charge,” she purred, and tried to kiss me.

  I pushed her face away from mine. “Stop talking.”

  Candy did as I asked, and sunk to the floor, licking her lips. She wrapped her hand around my shaft, and smiled up at me. “Always knew you were packing.” Her tongue snaked out, and she licked my tip. “Mmm, delicious,” she moaned.

  “What did I say about talking?”

  She went to answer, but as soon as her lips parted, I thrust my cock into her opened mouth. Her eyes widened, and I felt the spasm of her gag reflexes, but she quickly recovered, sliding her lips up and down as she worked her hand on my base.

  Her head bobbed back and forth while her tongue twisted and twirled, but I barely noticed. She might as well have not even been there because all I could focus on was Sawyer, and the memory of her body, hot and writhing beneath me. Damn it to hell. This wasn’t working.

  I grabbed Candy’s hair, fisting it in my hand, and controlled her rhythm. I pumped in and out of her mouth, and, like an obedient whore, she lapped up every inch.

  She might not have been Sawyer, but a guy could dream. I closed my eyes and imagined Sawyer’s pretty lips taking me all in. I thrusted harder, hitting the back of her throat, and moaned as she cupped my balls in her hand. Her mouth tightened as she pulled up, then loosened as she went right back down. The combination brought me closer to my release.

  “That’s right, baby. Suck me hard.”

  In response, she moaned, causing little vibrations to spread across my shaft. I grabbed either side of her head, and slid in and out slowly as the vision of Sawyer impaling my cock flashed in my mind. My speed picked up, and I drove into Candy’s mouth over and over until I gushed all over her face.

  I stumbled back, and rested against the cold porcelain of the sink. Candy ran a finger over her face, scooping up my cum, and sucking it off her finger. Most guys would be turned on right now, but all I could think about was getting the fuck out of there.

  I grabbed for my pants, and pulled them back into place. Candy knew how to suck a dick, but, unfortunately for me, it did shit. I was still wound tighter than a fucking timing belt.

  “My turn?” she pouted, creeping her finger up my chest.

  “Sorry, Candy. Not this time.” I reached for a couple paper towels, and shoved them at her. “But thanks for that. Now clean yourself up,” I said, and left her alone in the bathroom, covered in my jizz.

  THREE

  SAWYER

  Mom was asleep, so I decided to sit on the front steps, which had become my new favorite place, and absorb some of the California sun I’d been missing. The manicured lawns and kids running across them was a far cry from New York City, but it was a nice reprieve. I didn’t miss the loud traffic and busy streets.

  I sighed with pleasure as the warm sun caressed my bare skin, peeking out around my light summer dress. I kicked my legs out, realizing cowboy boots weren’t the best thing to be wearing if I wanted a tan. I pulled my legs back, and peeked down at my boot to the tattoo I wished I could remove. Instead, I was stuck wearing boots in the beautiful California weather to cover up the stupidity of my past.

  After a few minutes, I went back inside to finish putting the laundry away. Mom’s clothes were already put away, and all I had left were Cruz’s.

  His door was ajar, and I eased it open. Cruz turned, but it was too late. I already saw the Fallen Idols markings on the cut he pulled on.

  “Why are you wearing the Idols cut?”

  “What the fuck are you doing in here?”

  “Don’t change the subject,” I said, holding my finger up. “They’re the reason Dad’s in jail.”

  “They tried to protect him,” Cruz retorted.

  You’re really going to defend them?” I shook my head in disgust. “First, Las Almas, and now the Idols. Have you lost your goddamned mind? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

  Cruz turned from me, swiping up his backpack, and giving me a clearer view of his leather vest. Anger reached its boiling point, and the only thing keeping me from screaming was my sick mother down the hall.

  “You’re a prospect?” I ran my hand through my blonde hair, trying to get a grip and calm myself, before I totally lost it.

  “Ryder warned me you’d flip,” Cruz said, and my heart stopped at the name.

  I’d been home for almost a week, and managed to avoid hearing that name. As long as I didn’t hear it, I could pretend it never existed. Now, my own brother was the one to throw it at me, cutting open an old wound that never quite healed.

  I swallowed down the rage clawing its way up my throat. “Ryder knows about this?”

  “He’s the one who sponsored me.”

  The last thing I wanted to do was pay a visit to Ryder. Lord knew what it was going to do to my head and my libido. I had never been able to resist him, and I sure as hell hoped that I could face him and do what I needed to do – rip him a new one for recruiting Cruz, before he could fuck with my head or body.

  I dropped the laundry basket, and headed to the living room to grab my keys.

  “Where are you going?” Cruz asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.

  “Lower your voice before you wake Mom.�
��

  I spun toward the door, and Cruz blocked my path. “Then tell me where you’re going.”

  “It’s time I gave someone from my past a visit.”

  Cruz ran his hands through his dark hair. “He’s going to flip. At least let me give him a heads up.”

  “Don’t even think about it,” I said through clenched teeth.

  I hopped in Mom’s Nissan, and headed to the one place where I knew I’d find my ex-fiancé.

  ***

  Raven’s Nest hadn’t changed much since the last time I’d been there. A free standing building that looked innocent enough from the outside, but there were more criminals behind those walls than in the county jail. To most, it was the local biker bar, but to those in the know, it was the clubhouse for outlaws. A safe house where the brothers banded together, and discussed club business—aka all their illegal activities.

  It might’ve felt like a lifetime since I’d been here, but I knew the building wasn’t the only thing that hadn’t changed. I pushed the doors open, and the three MC members at the bar turned at the sound. Ace and Rev were two faces I’d never forget. I had no idea who the third was; must have been some new blood. Two sluts in the corner didn’t even take their lips off of whoever’s bald head that was.

  “Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in,” Ace jeered in his British accent that, as a kid, I found intriguing, but now knew it was the only thing fascinating about him. He was a drunk with a gambling problem, and by the snifter of brown liquid in his hand, I’d wager to say the club was still cleaning up his messes.

  “Where’s Ryder?” I demanded, not in the mood to shoot the breeze with a bunch of middle-aged men that couldn’t protect my father from life in prison.

  “Nice to see you too, sweetheart,” Rev retorted before he took a drag off his cigarette. His dark hair had greyed at the edges, but was still a frizzy mess.

  “I’m not here for a reunion. I’m here to talk to Ryder.”

  Rev called for Ryder down the hall then came back, grabbed a bottle of tequila, and plopped his ass on the bar. “This is about to get good,” he stammered.