Read Final Ride: Hellions Motorcycle Club (Hellions Ride Book 9) Online
Authors: Chelsea Camaron
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Challenged
(Vipers Creed MC#1)
Copyright ©Ryan Michele 2016
Prologue
My head filled with a cloudy, dense fog that I couldn’t shake. Even with my eyes open, a filmy haze covered them, making everything blurry. Voices were muffled, as if I were under water, sinking. I thought I recognized one, but I couldn’t tell for sure.
Too hard to think.
I attempted to pull my arms up, but they were immediately halted by something. The hard, cold, heavy attachments clinked like metal. Even straining to move them, my muscles were so weak, so lethargic I couldn’t. I tried my legs, and the same thing happened.
A hard surface pressed against my back as the cool air of the room cascaded over my skin, my nipples, my stomach… Oh God, was I naked?
I opened my mouth, wanting to scream as deep panic set in. Unfortunately, nothing came out except air. Even that took more effort than I had in me.
Placing the pieces of the puzzle together, I couldn’t make heads or tails out of anything.
Heat at my side had me turning in that direction, only to see a fuzzy, black figure. I squinted then blinked, trying to get the focus to come back, but nothing. Not a damn thing.
“Hello, darlin’. Welcome to hell.”
Chapter One
Trix
A lump gathered in my throat settling like a rock, hard and brutal, sucking the wind out of me. My hand slightly twitched as I dialed the number I never in a million years thought I would call. I switched the phone to my other hand in an effort to shake out the trembling, because nervousness wasn’t an option. Trix Lamasters would not turn into some twit who couldn’t think straight over one phone call. Being a shrewd businesswoman, I’d learned from the best not to let shit get to me, how to compartmentalize things and deal.
I swallowed hard, moving the lump from my throat to settle into my gut like a boulder. As I focused, my breathing evened out. The thick steel in my spine could handle anything life threw at me, including this call. Including the man who would be on the other end of the line.
The green button stared back at me, my finger hovering over it. Then I pressed it and pulled the phone to my ear just as it started ringing.
One ring … two … three …
“What?” was barked through the phone line with a male’s voice tainted by harsh impatience.
“Can I talk to Cade? Shit.” I stopped myself. He wasn’t Cade anymore. I needed to remember that a lot had changed. “I mean, Spook. Is Spook around?”
Silence.
“Hello?” I pulled the phone away from my ear, looking at the bright screen, making sure the call hadn’t dropped. Nope, the little numbers in the corner were still counting away. I pressed it back to my ear, waiting a few beats.
“Who wants to fucking know?” His tone turned gruffer, almost as if he were a protective watch dog of Cade’s, and nothing or no one got past him.
Watch dog or not, I wasn’t about to get eaten.
“This is Trix Lamasters. I need to speak to him.”
More silence, not even a breath or noise in the background.
“Hello?”
His voice came over the line right as I intended to speak again. “Stop fucking saying hello. I’m here.”
Hell, maybe someone pissed in his Wheaties this morning, his attitude having nothing to do with me. Or maybe it was just him.
I slapped my hand to my forehead as the word
dumbass
rang in my mind.
“Sorry, I thought the call dropped.” Now I apologized to the rude man?
Get a grip, Trix.
“What do you need with Spook?” The guard dog didn’t give me an inch. Nevertheless, he didn’t need to know my business.
I needed a diversion.
“Can you just get a message to him to call me?”
“Babe, either tell me what you need, or nothing fuckin’ gets to him.” His tone turned flat and resolute.
“Fuck,” I muttered then heard him chuckle. The damn man needed a bone before he played. Asshole. “An employee of mine has been seen at your clubhouse. I need to talk to her.”
“Call her,” he quipped.
“She doesn’t have a phone,” I retorted, feeling the fire burn in my veins.
“Not my problem,” the man sneered. From his attitude, I knew he would have no problem hanging up on me right now, never telling Cade I needed to talk to him. Good thing I dealt with assholes on a regular basis.
“Look, the bitch owes me money.” Anger raced through my body. I let it be heard through each clipped word.
He let out a deep laugh that was almost intriguing if he weren’t a jerk. “You may as well kiss that cash good-bye.”
My pride had other ideas.
“Fuck no. I want what’s owed to me.” I sighed, needing a different tactic. “Look, can you just give Spook my name?” He would either call or he wouldn’t, but maybe that would get the dog to want to nose around. Maybe curiosity would get him to spread my name at least.
“This is gonna be fun. Hang on.” The man must have covered the mouthpiece with his hand, because everything he said was muffled except for him calling Spook’s name. That, I could hear clearly. My adrenaline spiked at the thought of Cade coming on the line.
“Yeah?” a voice I recognized from my dreams said into the phone. The deep, raspy tenor had grown over time and slithered down my spine all the way to my knees, giving them a slight tremble. It took only one word to make my stomach flip.
Fuck, I knew this was a bad idea, but
I wasn’t that girl anymore. He would not have power over me. I wouldn’t allow it.
I paced my small living room, needing the movement to get my knees back in line.
“Cade? It’s Trix Lamasters.”
“First, the name’s Spook. Second, who?”
That one kind of stung. Alright, more than stung. It tore another hole in my already battered heart was more like it. The asshole didn’t even remember me, but what did I expect, being one in a sea of many? There was absolutely no reason I would have stood out to him.
“We went to school together,” I tried.
Silence.
I rolled my eyes to the ceiling, hoping divine intervention would give me the gift of patience or a gun. Neither came.
“Whatever. I get you don’t remember me, but you have one of my employees there. I need to talk to her. She owes me money, and I need it back.”
“Trixie Lamasters.” I could hear the devilish grin as his words snaked over the phone. Not going to lie, my pussy quivered.
No one called me Trixie anymore, because once upon a time, he did and I had loved it. After he abruptly left my life, taking the one thing I could never get back, I refused to let anyone call me by that name. Never again would I allow the hollow feeling that name represented to seep through me. Now, hearing him after fifteen years, the vault of memories opened wide, something I did not want to happen. I didn’t want to feel, yet each recollection of the past bombarded my mind.
“Long time.”
I paused mid-step as a flash of younger Cade hit me. Shaking my head clear, I continued to pace through my living room.
“Yeah, very long. Anyway, you have a woman there by the name of Nanette King. Can you hand her over to me?”
I wouldn’t let the smoothness of his voice draw me in like it had all those years ago, reducing me to a pile of teenaged mush.
Strictly business
, I told myself, because business I could handle.
“How do you know she’s here?”
“I had her followed, and it led to you.”
I guessed he didn’t like the fact that I had found her that way, judging from the muttered curses that followed. Each word made me smile. I had a payroll of people who worked for me now, and some little twit-fart would not run off with my money. That wasn’t how I operated my business.
Nanette had fallen off the radar. Cade’s club happened to be the last place she was seen; therefore, I had to call him. I may as well have strapped zip-ties around my wrists, locking them in place.
“First, if she’s at the club, there’s a reason. Second, bitches here don’t go by their real names, so I don’t know if she’s around, because I don’t know a Nanette. Third, you come to the clubhouse, and we’ll talk.”
Business was business, but my heart spiked at the thought of seeing him again.
Cade’s club, Vipers Creed MC, had been in Dyersburg for years. Even before I came into this world, their presence had been well known. This town had tales, but these days, the Vipers were mostly known for Creed’s Automotive where they made custom bikes and cars in their own little world located on the outskirts of town.
I’d hoped to avoid a meeting since I couldn’t see any point to it. I wasn’t in the mood for a high school reunion. The past needed to stay there, locked up tight.
“I’ll describe her to you. Tell me if she’s there, and I’ll send someone over to get her,” I declared, trying to veer him from this path.
Negotiations were something I excelled at. There had to be an arrangement that suited us both, one we could manage over the phone. It would be the best course of action. The less contact I had with him, the better. I could have Ike, one of the bouncers at Sirens, pick her up. Win-win all around.
He chuckled, and my body went on alert because of the slyness in it.
“Babe, you don’t get how this works. You want something from me that I have, bring your ass here, and we’ll discuss it. Tomorrow night, seven.” Silence.
This time when I looked at the screen, the number fifty-seven blinked rapidly. He’d hung up on me.
“That arrogant piece of shit!” I growled, tossing my phone to the couch where it bounced on the cushion.
I should have known he’d still be a dick. Some things never changed. Guess I was going to meet up with Cade after all.
I completely ignored the slight tremor that thought caused.
Available now through all major ebook retailers!
About the Author:
Ryan Michele found her passion in bringing fictional characters to life. She loves being in an imaginative world where anything is possible, and she has a knack for special twists readers don’t see coming.
She writes MC, Contemporary, Erotic, Paranormal, New Adult, Inspirational, and other romance-based genres. Whether it’s bikers, wolf-shifters, mafia, etc., Ryan spends her time making sure her heroes are strong and her heroines match them at every turn.
When she isn’t writing, Ryan is a mom and wife living in rural Illinois and reading by her pond in the warm sun.
Ryan can be found on social media at
www.facebook.com/AuthorRyanMichele
http://www.goodreads.com/RyanMichele
Twitter @Ryan_Michele
Without Regret by: Cat Mason
Copyright Amy Cox in affiliation with
Cat Mason Books
Chapter One
Facing Reality
Rachel
Doormat.
The one word I never thought I would be using to describe myself. When I look in the mirror, I hate the person I see staring back at me. How did I get here? I used to be the life of the party; Rachel Davidson was fun.
This change did not happen overnight. My downward spiral was a slow, yet painful, ride that I watched unfold like some train wreck I was helpless to stop. My happiness was stripped, piece by piece, by the man I fell in love with at a college dorm party. But, before my very eyes, that man began to change into someone I no longer recognize. No one sets out to be steamrolled by someone. However, I didn’t see the disaster my life was becoming until I was standing in the wreckage.
Once the blinders came off and I saw everything for how it truly was, I knew that I had to leave. Graduation day came and I was packed up, having made peace with my decision to let go of the man who had once stolen my heart. Then everything changed and my world was rocked to its foundations. Two lines on a white stick would forever tie me to Tim Willis forever. One year later, here I am with a baby and living with a man that I really think only puts up with me.
I don’t regret my daughter, Alyssa, for a minute. However, she deserves a father who holds her, talks to her. She deserves to be loved by him. I have racked my brain trying to figure out what I have done to make him so indifferent; how I could possibly make things better for us. Nothing has worked. I am horrified that this is how I will spend the rest of my life. Unhappy. Empty. Lonely and aching for a void to be filled that only grows larger by the day.
This should be a happy time for Tim and I. Today makes three years since our first date. I have spent hours making sure everything is perfect. Our apartment is spotless and his breakfast is hot and ready on the table just as he steps through the door after working all night at a local factory. Taking a deep breath, I muster every ounce of strength I have left to meet his eyes. My hope is that the man who had once made me feel so special will be able to see how unhappy I am. If he loves me at all, he couldn’t possibly want that, right?
“Morning, Tim.”
“Yep,” he mumbles, dumping his lunch box and jacket to the chair. Passing me, he walks into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. He is never talkative when he comes off the night shift. Just one more thing I miss. Tim and I used to spend hours every night talking. Eventually, it became less and less. Now, I can’t remember the last time he actually heard what I had to say without becoming defensive or irritated.
When the door opens, I quickly dismiss my thoughts as he eyes the table. “Breakfast, huh?” he asks, taking a seat.
“Happy Anniversary, Tim,” I smile, sitting down beside him.
“Oh, is it now?” Shrugging, he digs into his food. The smile that was on my face fades, just the tone in those four simple words and what little hope I had drains from me.
“I thought we could talk,” I force out, swallowing hard. I am determined to say something, anything, to try and explain how I feel.
Tim drops his fork to the plate and looks up at me. He exhales loudly, frustration radiating off of him in waves. “What is it?”
“It’s just,” I start, my hands twisting in my lap nervously. “Are you happy with this? With me? I mean—”
“Of course I’m not happy with you,” he snaps, interrupting me. “Do you think I enjoy coming home from working all night to a dirty house and an inquisition from you.” His reply is cold. “I’ll make it really easy for you so you can understand. If you want me to be happy, you’d clean the sink in the bathroom and mop this damn floor. It’s like you enjoy living in filth.”
Telling him that I mopped last night before I went to bed wouldn’t matter, so I don’t argue. The fact that I bleach that sink every morning before he comes home is irrelevant. Nothing is ever good enough. Standing up, I walk over and scrape my untouched breakfast into the disposal. “If you weren’t hungry you shouldn’t have fixed the plate. Wasting my hard-earned money on food you didn’t even eat. You are bound and determined to piss me off today, aren’t you?” he scolds before downing his juice.
“I’m going to check on the baby,” I inform him as if it matters.
“Hey,” Tim calls out making me stop in the doorway. I turn expectantly, meeting his eyes. “If you’re going to go pout, at least admit it. Fuckin’ baby,” he bites out hatefully, “You act like such a goddamn child. Sometimes, I wonder if you’re even worth all the trouble.”
My jaw drops in shock at the venom in his words. Why do I let him talk to me that way? What would he say if I stood up to him just once? My fists ball at my sides, my frustration boiling over. Taking a deep breath, I roll my eyes. “Kiss my ass,” I mutter, turning my back to him. “Prick.”
The chair scrapes across the floor, screeching loudly over the tile. “What the fuck did you say?” he asks angrily. “Sounds like you’re lookin’ for a fight this morning.”
My knees shake at the intimidating tone that is meant as a warning. This fight would not solve anything. Shaking my head, I take a second to breath and force myself to calm down. “I said leave the glass, Tim. I’ll wash up the dishes later.”
“Whatever,” he grumbles behind me. “Make sure you mop, too. What kind of mother would let this place get so disgusting?” he growls. Shoving around me, he storms into our room, slamming the door behind him so hard the floor vibrates beneath my feet.
Hurrying into the nursery, I let the tears fall. I won’t dare cry in front of Tim; that would only fuel his fire. I bend to every request, comply with every demand, but still it is never enough. I could beg him to open up to me, but he has this wall up and I am the last person he will let in. It has been months since he has even used my first name when talking to me.
Today was going to be the turning point in our relationship. Our talk was supposed to make things better between us. It hadn’t though. I was naïve to think anything is going to change that. It is foolish to keep putting everything into a one-sided relationship that I didn’t want any more than he did.
Looks like today is a turning point, after all.
Hindsight is a dirty little bitch. Why is it that true understanding and realization are so much easier to grasp after the fact? Looking back, everything should have been clear; especially the day Alyssa was born. Of course Tim didn’t say sweet things to me after giving birth to our daughter. My pleas for him to hold her or sit with me may as well have fallen on deaf ears.
“I don’t cuddle or whatever the hell it is you’re expecting from me. This is what you wanted.” He gestures to himself and the baby, then shakes his head. “Get used to it,” Tim barked before leaving the room.
He did not come back until they released us to go home. I was devastated. What kind of man feels nothing for his newborn child and the woman he claims to be building a future with? Hell, I have seen him high five a complete stranger at the pool hall.
“Good morning, Princess.” Lifting her from the crib, I cuddle her in my arms. “How is my beautiful girl this morning?” Her gassy grin begins to lift my mood immediately.
After Alyssa is changed, I settle into the rocker to feed her. As she latches onto my breast, I try to relax and tune out the blaring television from across the hall. I feel like a single parent most of the time. Sadly, I have grown used to doing everything myself. If you had told me this is how my life after college would be, that my degree would be sitting unused in a frame in the closet, I would have laughed at you.
I expected a happily ever after. Wrong. No glass slipper or charming prince here, ladies. I settled out of fear, and now I am completely miserable. My heart sinks. What kind of example am I setting for my daughter? I can feel all the best pieces of me slipping away with each passing day. What will happen when the last of me disappears forever, leaving me just a shell of my former self? I just don’t know anymore.
Clearing his throat, Tim steps into the doorway wearing just his boxers. The low slung blue cotton against his tanned skin is like candy for the eyes. Even though I know I shouldn’t, I can’t help taking in the view.
Yeah, I stare even if he is an asshole…
“Hey.” His eyes drift down to my exposed chest and the baby as she eats. “For fuck’s sake,” he groans in disgust, yanking a hand through his dark brown hair. “Cover yourself up.”
Looking away, in an attempt to mask my hurt, I pull a blanket over us. Once again, Tim’s comfort and happiness is more important than anyone else’s. “Sorry, Tim. What do you need?”
“Come here when you’re done with the kid,” he replies, then walks back into our room. I hear him flop onto the bed, the springs of the mattress creaking. The flicker of his lighter tells me he is smoking inside the apartment again.
Once I have finished feeding the baby, I turn on her mobile, and lie her back in the crib. “I’ll be back later, sweet girl,” I whisper as her eye lids begin to droop.
Walking into the master bedroom, I brace myself. It’s safe to assume I am about to get an ear-full about whatever is eating at him at the moment. Tim is sprawled across the bed on his back, his erection tenting the front of his boxers. “How ‘bout some?” he asks, patting the mattress with one hand.
Now there’s a seduction scene...
“Tim, we really should talk.”
Pushing up on his elbows, he jerks his chin in the direction of his dick. “I’m tired. I don’t want to talk. I want you to get your ass over here and take care of me so I can go to sleep.”
Knowing five minutes of sex is better than a thirty-minute argument that will only wake the baby, I walk over to the bed, and lie down next to him. I don’t say no, even though I don’t really want this. Sometimes giving in is the easiest way with him. Picking battles in an effort to avoid the eggshells, so to speak.
Pulling our brown comforter over us, he grips my hips. The moment he touches me, I know this is a mistake. Tim pushes my shirt up over my head. His mouth sucks and bites roughly at my nipple. “Wait,” I blurt, pushing against his chest. “I can’t even see, Tim.”
“Who gives a shit. This isn’t about you anyway.” Fumbling around, he pulls my underwear to the side. No connection and no intimacy. This is all about his release. My face is completely covered by my shirt when he plunges into me. The force of his hips cause the blanket to twist and bunch up, covering me as well. I’m an empty vessel that Tim is simply using and he doesn’t even respect me enough to look me in the eye while he does it.
The monotonous in and out, in and out, does nothing for me. Not like that matters to Tim. He said it himself; this is all about him anyway. It always is and I see now that it always will be if I continue to stay in this mess. I try to let my mind drift to happier times with him; but there are few, very few, that he hasn’t ruined lately with digs at me.
I was so determined to make this work. I had even convinced myself that my pregnancy was a sign that we belonged together. So I stayed, and put all my faith into Tim. Waiting patiently for him to open up to me and be a father to our daughter. However, Tim never acknowledges her unless she is in his way of getting what he wants. He looks at her like an inconvenience. I don’t know what more to do, but in my head I am screaming.
This can’t be all there is for me in life, can it?
My mind continues to drift until he finally stills above me. “Shit, you could at least move or something,” he grunts, rolling off me. “Fucking you is like bangin’ a goddamn corpse.”
“Sorry,” I answer, rolling out of bed and righting my clothes. “I have dishes to do,” I add in a hushed tone with my eyes to the floor.
Dammit, stop being so fucking weak, Rachel! Quit apologizing to this asshole!
“You better keep that kid quiet. I should’ve been asleep already,” he says coldly as I close the door.
Once I clean myself up, I finish the dishes. By the time I put the last plate in the drainer, my anger and resentment is boiling over. I can’t bear the cold way he is with me any longer. It is as if he is repulsed by me. Like he hates me. Though he has no problem looking over it the moment his dick gets hard.
While I was pregnant with Alyssa, I overheard him talking to his buddies one night about his ex. “A guy can get it up for anything with a willing hole.” He then continued to tell them how he kept her around just for regular sex. The thought still makes me ill, but yet I stay. Why?
I wish I could turn it off. That I could stop feeling anything for the man he once was. All the constant rejection wouldn’t hurt so badly. My self-esteem is destined to die a slow and painful death if I stay on this hamster wheel. This is no way to live.
The phone rings, making me jump. Quickly, I fumble for the receiver so it doesn’t wake Tim and cause another argument. “Hello?”
“Rach…” A sob chokes out of my sister, Kate’s, voice making my blood run cold.
“What’s wrong,” I ask, pacing the length of the kitchen. My mind begins to spin, overloaded with the possibilities of what could be wrong.
“Dad is sick.” Three words that no one ever wants to hear rattle me to the core. I collapse into the chair beside me, as she continues. “He’s been sick for months and none of us knew.”