Connected in Pain
Page 1
Connected in Pain
Ravage MC Rebellion Series Book One (Crow & Rylynn Trilogy)
Ryan Michele
Copyright © 2018 Connected in Pain (Ravage MC Rebellion Series Book One) (Crow & Rylynn Trilogy) Ryan Michele—Wicked Words Publishing LLC
* * *
All Rights Reserved. This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction in whole or in part, without express written permission from Ryan Michele.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
This work of fiction is intended for mature audiences only. All sexually active characters portrayed in this book are eighteen years of age or older. Please do not buy if strong sexual situations, violence and explicit language offends you.
This is not meant to be an exact depiction of life in a motorcycle club, but rather a work of fiction meant to entertain.
* * *
1st edition published: November 6, 2018
2nd edition published: March 2, 2019
ASIN: B07FKZMT5K
Contents
Other Books by Ryan Michele
Blurb
Prologue
1. Rylynn
2. Crow
3. Crow
4. Rylynn
5. Crow
6. Rylynn
7. Crow
8. Crow
9. Rylynn
10. Crow
11. Rylynn
12. Crow
13. Rylynn
14. Rylynn
15. Crow
16. Rylynn
17. Crow
18. Rylynn
19. Crow
Order Today!
Acknowledgments
Other Books Written by Ryan Michele
About the Author
Thank you!
Other Books by Ryan Michele
www.authorryanmichele.com/books
* * *
Ravage MC Rebellion Series
Connected in Pain (Crow & Rylynn Book 1)
Fueled in Fire (Crow & Rylynn Book 2)
Sealed in Strength (Crow & Rylynn Book 3)
Connected in Code (Wrong Way & Hayden Book 4)
* * *
www.authorryanmichele.com/books
Blurb
One night to drown all the pain is all it’s supposed to be …
Or so we thought.
We thought wrong.
* * *
Cocky. Self-assured. Confident. Skilled.
Crow is the President of the Ravage Motorcycle Club Rebellion Chapter, my father Rhys’ MC. He’s also much older than my nineteen years. Therefore, forbidden to me, which make him even hotter.
The way he commands the space, all alpha bad boy biker, is enthralling and grips that broken part of me that weeps for the loss of my grandfather.
He is the solace when all is lost. He’s also the only person who’s been able to calm my soul.
We both need each other.
* * *
The connection is too strong to ignore.
* * *
A second chance encounter ignites an already growing desire, exploding into a passion neither of us expected.
Our lives are intertwined in a way neither of us know and I wasn’t the only one in pain…
* * *
We were connected in pain, bound by family loyalty and consumed with lust.
But secrets, lies and betrayal changes both of our lives forever.
* * *
Decisions made will change my entire world.
If my choice is wrong, the one thing I’ve always had, respect within the Sumner Ravage MC, my family will be lost.
Forever.
To my Mom
You are the strongest woman I know.
The last few months you’ve fought, always laughing and spirits so damn high every step of the way, you’re an inspiration.
Love you.
Always and forever.
~M
Prologue
Crow
The calm before the chaos.
A moment to shut the world out.
The pavement passing beneath my tires.
Nothing but me, the wind, and my machine.
This moment and the many like it before were personal times to find peace in the pain, clarity in the confusion, and a way to clear the clutter of my mind.
Pipes rumbled down the long stretch of road, tires eating up the distance as the yellow lines passed under me in a blur. Heat pressed in from the sun above, the wind the only thing cooling my heated flesh. This was my favorite expanse of highway—off the beaten path, yet not. Close to home, yet not. The twists called to me like a red flag to a bull, challenging me and allowing me to just be free.
Free.
It was exactly what being a biker was about. Freedom from society’s expectations. Freedom from being boxed into someone’s ideals of what a man should do or be. Riding was allowing yourself to feel the elements, experience every bump, every curve, and every clearing.
The gravel under me moved behind me like all the thoughts in my mind. Clearing my head sometimes was difficult, much like this road could be at times.
The weight of the world laid heavily on my shoulders. So many things felt like they were coming at me from different ends, life spinning around not allowing me to just take a moment to stop and breathe. There was no extra time to think out what needed to happen and what needed to be done to get that result. Making decisions on the fly was something I excelled at, but sometimes I just needed that break from everything around me to allow my head to release and recharge.
When all the thoughts piled up, I needed the freedom only the open road could give me.
Hands on the bars, my body vibrated becoming one with the machine. With each rev of the engine, every curve of the road, every change of the gears, my mind settled breaking into a calm I could only get from riding. The Harley Davidson Road King had the miles under her leaving her engine fine tuned to a sweet hum. Over the years she’d had parts added, parts removed, things customized, but my 1995 ride was still a heavy beast with a black paint job and red ghosted skulls airbrushed onto the gas can. While I had owned other bikes, and will have many more in the future, this bitch under me was my first.
Loved my bike. Loved my club. Loved it more than words could say. Even loved the shit that came with it. But every man needed a break now and then. A way to put everything in your life into perspective and allow yourself that time.
These rides alone were mine.
Only mine.
There was little in life I had to claim as solely mine. My life was this club, Ravage. It was a choice I made knowing full and well I was giving everything I had to give to this world, this family. Every moment, I had to be ready to drop whatever I had going on for the club, and I would.
Still, though, I took this ride and many like it to decompress. Sure, some people didn’t understand it, couldn’t understand me, but I didn’t give a fuck.
While my brothers wanted to be alongside me to show our solidarity and I appreciated it, this was something that had to be done on my own. A time out of sorts for my soul. They didn’t have the responsibilities of being the president in the Ravage MC and having the final say in all decisions and making sure they were the right ones.
It was a balancing act to keep everyone and everything in line. Money, time, businesses, allies, enemies, brothers, hell life itself—all of it laid on a tight rope just waiting for me to misstep and topple over, taking my club down with m
e. Not that I’d ever let that shit happen. It was something to keep a tight hold on, which was what I did, how I rolled. It was why I rode every now and then, on this stretch of road, completely alone.
Peace.
The ‘Welcome to Rebellion’ sign passed by telling me I was home.
Who the fuck would name a town Rebellion?
Often times, we all sat back and laughed at the thought of it.
Rebellion, Alabama. Crazy name for a town.
It fit us, though.
Rebels with a cause or more like a mission. A solid foundation to build. That was us. All of us. My club, my people, and fuck anyone who got in the way of either.
This was where I ran the show, held the power, had respect, and with that came responsibilities.
Adulting sucked for some men.
Yeah, back in the day I never thought this would be me. My focus was different. Even young I had responsibilities. Ravage needed me to have a solid head on my shoulders, needed me to have a firm grip on who I was. This club made me the man I was today, modeling and shaping me to be the president of the club.
Driving into town the hustle and bustle of everyday life surrounded me. The calm I just found would soon disappear as the thoughts would crowd my mind once again much like the people on the go in Rebellion. People going to work in suits and ties while others were in uniforms. Everyone wanting to get somewhere as fast as possible without having to wait for anyone.
Most of them not knowing how the world really works, we took on the responsibility of keeping Rebellion, Alabama under our control.
Because of the chaos of the streets, I made a change for this ride and went around the town, down the backroads, and came up from the opposite way seeing the clubhouse on my left. Those few, extra precious moments to let myself simply be had me ready to take on the world once again.
One couldn’t see into our space through the tall metal structures that outlined the acres of land we owned. All they could see was pole barn metal, not the thick cinderblocks behind it giving us security. If someone tried running into it, they’d get a very rude awakening.
The gate was automatic and with a touch of a button from Ethan, a prospect, up in the tower above the wall, it would open wide. There was a walkway above the gate from one end to the other made of bulletproof glass allowing whoever was on watch to see all around them. We took our security very seriously because of the shit we were into.
There was a time we didn’t and paid a fuck of a price for it. That shit wouldn’t happen again.
Ethan lifted his chin, and the sun glistened off the gate as it moved to the side allowing me access inside.
This was where I was meant to be.
This was where I belonged.
Refreshed, I was back and on fire. Let’s fuckin’ do this shit.
Welcome to Ravage Rebellion.
1
Rylynn
One month and three weeks later
Pain.
I knew that shit well.
Not right now though. No, right now I was lost and in far too deep, but not lost in the pain for once since everything happened. It was a foreign feeling to not be wrapped in the darkness, the sorrow that had become my life.
I felt lost and found all at the same time.
Confusion, that was some of it. I was disorientated in a blissful way that was unusual for me.
My mouth tasted of cotton that had been up a monkey’s ass and my head throbbed like a village of ants playing the bongos, but that was a pain I could deal with. Too much booze did that to a woman, especially when she’d lost someone she loved. My head was normally screwed on pretty tight, but not last night, because I had to let loose. I couldn’t stay in the pain, stay in the emotions. I needed to escape. I had to get every miniscule feeling out because it’d been bottled up and waiting to explode, tearing me apart and eating at my insides for days now.
Nothing tore me apart. Nothing.
I was unshakable. Unbreakable.
At least, that was what I’d thought.
I was Rylynn Cameron Hutton. The daughter of Rhys and Tanner. Granddaughter of Dagger and Mearna. Sister of Mazie.
We didn’t break. It wasn’t in our DNA. We were taught to be strong and unfuckable. To ride the road of life with all the twists and turns of it not once letting go of that strength.
Life proved me wrong, though, with the death of my grandpa.
It was my kryptonite.
My family would never be whole again. A member of it no longer on this planet. It killed me and inside I was hollow, part of my soul forever gone. I felt the missing piece down to the core of my being. Every breath felt wrong, disconnected, like I was here but I wasn’t and nothing was right.
How were we supposed to go on? Every morning I woke feeling like maybe, just maybe, it was all a bad dream. Only I would look at my phone, call his number, and the same generic message met me every single time.
I missed his voice.
I missed his smell.
I missed his wisdom.
I missed him.
It killed me inside and out. I would never be the same without him. We would never be the same. Our worlds shattered into a million and one pieces, never to be complete again. The strength we had was being tested. We needed it now more than ever.
Going after the assholes who did this wasn’t an option for me. It was stated it was club business, and it took everything inside of me to refrain from looking because I wanted to tear them apart from limb to limb. The need for revenge rode me hard with every passing second, and keeping a hold on that proved difficult. Not impossible, but hard as hell.
Last night, the bourbon was great going down to drown my sorrow, but now—now, not so much. My head swam, thumped, and throbbed, my stomach roiling and wanting to expel. Fuck, how much did I drink last night?
Oh right. A bottle of bourbon with no chaser. If anything would do it, that would.
Even with the cotton mouth, the constant drumming, and the way my eyes couldn’t quite focus, for a moment last night, for a short bit of time, I forgot to feel.
I didn’t feel the loss.
I didn’t feel the gaping hole in my heart.
I didn’t feel one thing.
All I felt was each shot hitting the back of my throat as the alcohol warmed going down before settling deep in my belly. Every bit allowing the pain to be pushed away further and further, giving me a reprieve.
The cool air hit my skin, and I looked down noting my naked, nearly uncovered body, my calves the only thing the sheet hid. Even with the grogginess, last night crashed into me, visions flashing before my eyes, my body starting to heat at the thoughts.
The touches, kisses, caresses, unbelievable. I turned…
Crow laid next to me, sheet at his waist displaying his heavily tattooed arms and chest which were seriously defined. His face turned the other way giving me views of his sandy brown hair. Hair that was messed up due to my fingers twisting and pulling it during our marathon session last night.
Fuck me.
Guess if you’re gonna fuck up, may as well go big or go home.
I did.
Fucking the president of the Rebellion chapter of the Ravage MC was a huge mistake, and the first time I’d ever slept with a brother, something I swore to myself I’d never do. Growing up in this life I’d seen so much and I never wanted to have the title of that one girl that one night, but I guessed it was under my belt now and there was no going back.
Of all the guys in the club, it had to be him of all people. I was out of my mind.
Hot, sexy as hell, rough, take no shit—Crow.
Fuck, even his damn name was mysterious and foreboding, leading me thousands of ways in how to interpret. Too bad I didn’t ask him how he got his road name, or I assumed it was his road name because not many men would be named Crow, but who the hell knew anymore.
We were too busy doing other things to discuss the intricacies of his name.
Great things.
Hot things.
Things that didn’t involve conversations about names or pretty much anything. Movement, noises of pleasure, and the air conditioner kicking on then off were the only sounds in the room.
I was an idiot even if I still felt him between my thighs in delicious ways. But the worst part was I put myself in this position. He kept looking at me across the room at the clubhouse, and I approached him. No, I couldn’t believe it either, but I did. One touch of those sensuous lips of his and I melted. The rest was obviously history.
Searching the room for the time, I took in the space, needing to get my head out of the clouds and get focused. The layout was like any other hotel I’d ever been in: bed, TV, dresser, chair and desk. The sleek lines of silver around the mirror and accents of the furniture screamed of money. That could only mean one thing—we were at the Marriot right outside of Sumner, Georgia about twenty-five miles from my home.
Shit.
Too close, but still far away.
Since Crow gave me a ride last night on the back of his bike, now I had to figure out how in the hell to get home from here. Another stupid move, but being on the back while he drove the roads of my hometown with the moon shining down on us last night was incredible and worth every second of it. The getaway portion of the morning though, not having my Jeep was a hindrance. But I was a big girl and could handle anything life threw at me. That was what we did in my family. Problem, find a solution. End of story.