Midnight Ryde: A Bad Boy MC Romance

by Melissa Merit

  “I’m sorry about your friend,” Sara said, eyes wide and weary. She looked scared.

  She had no idea how scared she should be.

  “Thank you,” I said, forcing my voice to not reflect the storm brewing within my psyche. “Sara, you’re coming home with me.”

  I could tell immediately that she was ready to fight me on this.

  “I can’t,” she said, shaking her head. I didn’t blame her. I was a stranger, and for all she knew, a murderer. “I have to go home.”

  “You can’t go home,” I replied, my voice coming out a bit sharper than I intended.

  “You’re going to stop me?” she asked, eyebrows raised and hands on her hips. I admired the way she stood up to me, even knowing I could easily take down a fully grown man, much less a tiny girl like her. She was probably barely even twenty-one.

  “If I have to,” I said. Her eyes widened with fear. “Tyler has his boys out looking for you.” I added, to soften the blow.

  “What do you mean they’re looking for me?” She demanded, the color blanching from her face.

  “Tyler sent his boys to find you and bring you to him,” I replied, letting menace drip into my words. She needed to know how serious this was.

  “He’s alive?” She asked. She looked relieved. That surprised me.

  “Yes,” I said, feeling a little wounded over her relief. “And now he has his boys scouring the city for you so he can exact his revenge for you rebuffing his advances.”

  Sara looked like she might throw up.

  “W-what does he want with me?” She asked, voice trembling. The fear shining through her eyes had me ready to go exterminate his entire gang.

  “If his history is anything to go by, letting him take you at the bar would have been a kindness compared to what will happen if he finds you now,” I said, seething with anger. I wanted to drive my fist through a fucking wall.

  I would kill Tyler and fuck his goddamn corpse if anything happened to this girl.

  “You’ll be safe at home with me,” I said, trying my best to keep my tone of voice comforting. “I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  “Okay,” Sara said, nodding to herself. Her gaze was distant. She looked terrified.

  “We’re going to my apartment,” I said. If Tyler’s hounds were out looking for her, we needed to move quickly. “Since Tyler knows where you live, you won’t be safe there.”

  “How would he know where I live?” She demanded. “I only met him tonight!”

  “Does your friend know where you live?” I asked, trying to lead her to her own realization. She paled further.

  “Oh,” she said.

  “Come on,” I commanded. We needed to get off the streets.

  As I sprung into motion, the sound of her trailing behind me filled my ears.

  The distracted side of my mind reveled in the way that Sara was starting to take orders from me, and liked the idea of her getting used to it.

  Five

  Sara

  Following Ryder at this point was a survival technique for me. Not only because he had promised to protect me from Tyler and his gang, but because he was fully relieving me of any need to make decisions. I absolutely could not make any more decisions. Not tonight. Not now that my fear of talking to cops had been overcome by a fear of being kidnapped and god only knows what else by Tyler and his crew.

  The fact that I was still moving at all only felt possible because I could follow Ryder. I kept my eyes focused on his legs as he took one step after the next towards his apartment.

  Ryder came to a stop before me. In a daze, I stopped beside him, wondering if this was the right decision at all. What if Ryder was leading me here so he could kill me and do away with the only real witness to his crimes against Tyler?

  “My apartment is on the third floor. This way,” Ryder said, tilting his head in the direction of the nearby staircase to the building.

  “I’ll follow you,” I said in response, wondering again if this was the last bad decision I would make.

  As Ryder stepped into motion, moving once more in his brisk pace as he climbed the staircase, rounding the corner to climb the next. I had no idea where we really were, though I figured that I could use my phone to find out, worst case. This was definitely not the cute, suburban college neighborhood I was used to traversing.

  Something told me I wouldn’t be making it to work tomorrow.

  “And here we are,” Ryder said, pulling out his keys to unlock the vibrant red door that was before us. The faded gold numbers on the door read 317.

  Stepping into a strange man’s apartment in a foreign neighborhood would have felt weird even without the gang member factor. I was used to tumbling into bed with the occasional frat boy, but this was by far the riskiest thing that I had ever done.

  As Ryder opened the door, I followed him into the darkness. I heard the flick of the light switch and bright light flooded my senses, causing stars to dance across my vision. Once my eyes adjusted, I took a moment to look around the family room of Ryder’s apartment.

  The room was clean and orderly. It was minimalistic, save for the art decorating each of the walls. The art was very modern and trendy. His couch was covered in a simple black leather with a green afghan that looked faded and well-used.

  This was not at all what I expected to find. The only part that aligned with my vision for what his apartment would look like was the motorcycle helmet sitting on the table by the door.

  “Your place is nice,” I said, looking around. My eyes widened at the sound of motion coming from the back of the apartment. I swallowed, hard. Had Tyler’s guys found us?

  “Thank you,” Ryder said in response, just in time for a Rottweiler to come running into the room. Ryder seemed like he was finally calming down. “I take a lot of pride in it. Isn’t that right, Zeusy?” Ryder said, bending down to pet the giant beast, who was wagging happily.

  It was unusual to see a Rottweiler with a full-length tail. I giggled as the dog turned his attention on me, eagerly sniffing my pants. I smiled, scratching the dog’s head.

  “What a good boy,” I murmured to him. “I like all of the artwork you have,” I said to Ryder, moving closer to the nearest painting to get a better look. It was a scenic painting reflecting a myriad of greens and browns coming together to create an abstract forest.

  “Thanks,” Ryder said. “I like to collect new pieces when I ride anywhere far away that I like. It’s how I bring a part of it back with me, satiates the wanderlust.”

  I couldn’t keep my gaze from drifting to him. There was clearly more to Ryder than merely being the leader of some lowly biker gang. The more I learned about him, the more interested in him I was becoming. Something told me that I would be scolding myself by the end of all this, but for now I was willing to risk it to try and find out more about this protective, art-collecting bad boy.

  Ryder looked up, realizing I was staring at him. He smiled, raising his eyebrow in that hot, knowing way he does in response to my gaze. Damn.

  “So, how come you didn’t have your bike at the bar?” I asked, hoping my cheeks weren’t visibly betraying my embarrassment.

  “I don’t drink and ride,” Ryder replied without missing a beat. “Riding is my life. I’m not going to risk losing my life because I was too lazy to walk. My bike deserves better than that.”

  “That’s incredibly sensible,” I said, awkwardly. I could not wrap my mind around Ryder. Everything about him seemed to conflict with the last thing I saw. How could the guy who almost killed another be the same guy who collected local art and wouldn’t ride his bike after a beer?

  “Sensible for a guy who just beat an enemy into submission so fiercely that he nearly killed him, you mean?” He said, raising the eyebrow again and pinning me with his gaze.

  “I mean, I wasn’t going to say that,” I responded, dropping my gaze.

  “You didn’t have to,” he responded with a chuckle. “Your face already did.”

&
nbsp; “Sorry,” I said, blushing.

  “Don’t be,” he replied, firmly. “You’re absolutely right to raise the point. I won’t argue you on it.” He made his way to the kitchen, to our left.

  “So what happened back there?” I asked, trailing after him.

  The sight of him in this new context was breathtaking. Ryder, the guy with an apartment full of art. Ryder, the guy with a dog he loved. Ryder, the guy who loved riding so much he wouldn’t risk ever losing his license because it would make his passion a crime in the eyes of the law.

  “I was taking a leak,” he began, wrinkling his nose as if to say sorry with a sheepish grin. “Then when I came out, Tyler was on top of you and you were saying ‘no’ and he wasn’t backing off. I wasn’t going to let him hurt you, so I handled it.” His voice was deadly calm.

  I bit my lip nervously.

  “It looked like you weren’t going to stop,” I said, lifting my eyes to meet his gaze. His face was neutral, but a fire burned in his eyes.

  “If you hadn’t asked me to, I wouldn’t have,” Ryder said, simply. “I think the more important question is: are you okay?” He pinned me with the full weight of his attention again.

  Oh. I took a breath,

  “Yeah,” I said, lamely. I dropped my eyes to the floor. I mean, I wasn’t hurt. Ryder had stopped Tyler before he got too far, but that didn’t stop the fact that I could feel Tyler’s hands around my wrists, feeling him pressed against me.

  “Hey,” Ryder said, eyes full of a bewitching combination of anger and concern. “It’s alright if you’re not okay.”

  Tears immediately filled the corners of my eyes.

  Shit.

  “I, uh,” I began, taking a steadying breath. “I told him that I had no interest in sleeping with him, and then I went to go to the bathroom, and he followed me.”

  Ryder’s face was getting visibly red.

  I swallowed.

  “And then he was pressing against me, and I was saying no, and he just kept circumnavigating the situation by telling me that he knew I didn’t mean it, and that I didn’t need to pretend with him, and… He just wasn’t stopping.”

  Tears began slipping down my face now.

  I wiped them away furiously before continuing.

  “Then you were there, and I was so relieved that someone else was intervening,” I admitted, continuing to stare at the floor. “I don’t think I could have stopped him.”

  I looked up, finally meeting Ryder’s eyes. His body was rigid, betraying his anger, but his face was soft. He almost looked hurt.

  What had I said?

  “I like to think that anyone who stumbled across that would have intervened, but I would be lying to you if I said that you were Tyler’s first,” Ryder said.

  The idea of Tyler doing this to other girls was horrifying. The only thing worse than almost being a victim of him was now realizing that there had been other victims. Other girls who hadn’t had someone conveniently stumble across the scene and intervene.

  More tears, more nausea.

  “I’m sorry,” Ryder said, his voice tight with remorse and frustration. “I should have killed him for you.”

  My eyes widened in response to that. “No,” I heard myself replying. “You saved me.” I said.

  Instinctually, I moved towards him. Ever so slightly. His body was taut again, a clear indicator of the anger he was trying to reign in.

  “Thank you,” I said, my voice breaking ever so slightly.

  My eyes fell downcast, but in my peripherals I saw his body relax in response to my words.

  “How about a drink?” Ryder asked, gently, opening the cabinet and pulling out a bottle of whiskey. That would surely take the bite out of this night.

  “Drinking,” I laughed, humorlessly, “Is what got me into this situation in the first place.”

  Ryder went rigid again.

  “No,” Ryder said, firmly. “Tyler being a rapist is what got you into the situation. Nothing that you did invited his actions.” He growled.

  Again, I felt the traitorous tears welling in my eyes.

  “Go sit down,” Ryder commanded. “I’ll make our drinks.”

  I obeyed, making my way to the couch.

  It was starting to become apparent how Ryder had been made the leader of his gang. Something about him demanded obedience.

  Petting Zeus absentmindedly, I couldn’t help but wonder if Ryder demanded that same obedience in other aspects of his life.

  Six

  Ryder

  Mixing drinks probably wasn’t the best idea. Sara was upset. I was drowning in a sea of rage at the idea of the fear Tyler struck into her. At the idea of what would have happened if I wasn’t there. Or what could have happened if she had actually gone home instead of coming home with me.

  The sheer imagining of her walking into a dark apartment, only to be grabbed by Tyler’s lecherous crew members and hauled off, kicking and screaming, had me about ready to grab my gun and go hide at her place waiting for them. I would show them what happened to men who thought it was okay to hurt girls without their consent.

  Bastards, the voice in my mind hissed.

  All I know was I needed the edge gone, and there was no way Sara was going to sleep without alcohol. I could already tell. She was wound up too tight from the night’s events. Even now, I could see her on the couch, looking like she was falling in on herself.

  That needed to stop, or someone was going to die tonight.

  “Here you go,” I said, walking up and handing her a drink.

  “Thanks,” she said in response, giving me a sheepish smile.

  Watching her take a sip of the drink as I sat on the chair across from her was amusing. Her nose wrinkled the second the drink filled her mouth.

  “Too strong?” I asked, smiling apologetically.

  “No,” she laughed. And god was it sexy. “What’s all this crap you put in the glass to taint the whiskey?”

  “A little bit of everything,” I said, eyeing her curiously. “Generally the girls I bring home won’t drink whiskey straight.”

  “Get better taste in girls,” she said, with a teasing smile. She seemed to relax with the drink in her hand. “And don’t you dare feed me any more of this mixed drunk bullshit,” she said, boldly meeting my gaze.

  My dick twitched in response.

  “I’ll tell you what,” I said, mirroring her tone. “If you finish this drink, the next one will be straight whiskey.”

  She raised her eyebrows at me, clearly taking the challenge.

  I watched, more than a little turned on, as she drained the glass and held it out to me.

  “More please,” she said, with a devilish grin.

  Smiling, I drained my glass like she had.

  It might have been the alcohol, or it might have just been the fact that I was getting dangerously close to telling her to strip, but I decided to press my luck a little.

  “You can have more if you ask for it,” I replied, leveling her with my gaze.

  Her cheeks flushed ever so slightly.

  Perfect.

  “I said ‘please’,” she said in response.

  God, I was going to break her if she gave me the chance.

  “Yes, you said it. You did not, however, ask,” I corrected, giving her an expectant look.

  For a minute, she looked like she might fight me on it.

  “May I please have some whiskey?” she asked, with mock sweetness. She hit me with a challenging little smile and I felt myself wanting to kiss her desperately.

  “You may,” I replied, coolly. The whiskey was definitely hitting my system now, and I was itching to put my hands on this girl. I fixed her with a firm stare. Time to play my way and see how she responded. “However, if you ever ask me with that tone again, you’re going to be in trouble.”

  Sara’s cheeks turned a deep scarlet.

  Perfect, I thought.

  Smirking, I took her glass and made my way back to the kitchen. I filled two of
my glasses with bourbon on the rocks. This seemed a bit more her speed.

  I’ve always had a weakness for a girl that knows how to drink.

  When I returned with the glasses, it was apparent by the look on her face that her thoughts had drifted to the darker aspects of tonight again. She looked frightened and hollow, and exhausted. I felt the fire in my veins starting to burn again.

  “You look like you have something that you need to get off of your chest,” I remarked, holding the glass of bourbon out to her.

  Sara took the drink, looking relieved as she stared into it.

  “I just feel like on some level it was my fault,” she said, and she visibly fell in on herself.

  The rage that hit me had me damn ready to start cracking skulls. The fact that this girl believed she had played any role in Tyler’s actions was infuriating. I would not let her continue to believe that.

  “This was not your fault,” I said, my voice sharp. Her eyes widened slightly, and I grimaced apologetically. “This was Tyler’s doing. You didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t do anything. The blame is entirely on him, and he paid for it.”

  “I get that,” she said, taking a heavy swig of the drink before looking into it again. “It just seems like there’s something about me that makes guys think they can treat me like I don’t matter.”

  She sighed.

  I clamped my teeth down on my lip, trying desperately to reign in the blind anger pumping through me. There were so many things that I wanted to say, but I knew that right now she just needed someone to listen.

  I could listen now and kill Tyler later, assuming I hadn’t already.

  “I dated this guy a couple years back,” she said, taking another sip. “He seemed really cool in a douche-bag frat boy way, but then he just started getting rough and aggressive as we continued dating.”

  My blood began to boil as she continued.

  “Anyway, he would cheat on me and then accuse me of cheating on him. I broke up with him after he got drunk and threw me into a wall.”