Raw: The Ultimate Mc Collection (19 page)

I was taking a huge risk here.  Showing up unannounced.  Early, when I knew he might still be asleep. When I had no idea if he would even be alone.

It had been two months since I said goodbye to him.  Two of the longest months of my life. 

“Well, hello there, Sam!  Or, Grace, I guess?”  Doc was in the kitchen, standing in front of the fridge, a beer in his hand even at this early hour.

“Hi, Doc!” I replied. His wild hair, his sweet demeanor, his crooked smile warmed my heart. “I’ve missed you!”

“How are you feeling, hon?” he asked.

“I’m feeling pretty good, Doc, thanks,” I replied. “Is Ryder around?”

“Still sleeping,” he said, gesturing towards the hallway.

“He alone?” I asked, hopefully.

Doc chuckled.

“Far as I know,” he said. “He’s been pretty down and lonely since you left.”

“Thanks, Doc,” I replied, kissing him on the cheek.

I tiptoed down the hallway, leaving Doc in the kitchen and the people in the living room undisturbed. 

I took a deep breath, and peeked inside.

He was still asleep, his chest rising and falling under the sheets, the sunlight streaming in over his naked shoulders.  The sight of him took my breath away.  

I had been yearning to see him again, feeling completely lost without him these last few months.  He was the first thing I thought about and the only thing I continued to think about the entire day.  

I was grateful we had saved all those girls, sure, but the victory was empty without Ryder by my side.  Now that I knew he existed, that our love existed, there was no way I could be happy without him.

I was determined to find a way to have him in my life.  I knew that couldn’t happen if I was a cop. 

Eventually, the solution came to me - in a dream, actually.

Another visit from my dad, the only person in my past who had ever been good to me.  As good as he could.  As good as he knew how.  He, too, had escaped the hell of living with my mother and her sons.  All she ever did was cheat on him, and he endured it as long as he could. And then, when he couldn’t anymore, he simply left.  Just like my sister did.  And just like I did.

We all just had to go through hell first.

I blamed them both for leaving me behind, but eventually, I understood.  My dad didn’t know what had happened to me, he could only work with what he knew. If he had known, I’m certain he would have whisked me away.

But things didn’t work out that way.  They were what they were. 

I came to accept them. 

Just as I had come to accept Ryder.  Now, all I needed to get him to do was accept me, too.  

“There’s more than one way to skin a cat,”
my dad had said to me in my dream.  I wasn’t sure what he was talking about, but after a few days of it lingering in my head, I understood.

After much contemplation, and many meetings with my Captain, I decided to quit the force.  I convinced them to keep me on as an outside consultant, but I would no longer be a police officer.  

I was beyond delighted. Relieved. If everything went as planned, then maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be all right after all.

I entered Ryder’s room, quietly walking over and sitting on the edge of the bed next to him.  His blue eyes flew open, and widened when he saw me sitting there.

“Hey,” I said, smiling down at him. “Remember me?”

EPILOGUE

They walked hand in hand along the moonlit path through the dense forest.  It was dark, quiet, the soft sounds of various forest critters echoing through the trees. As they pushed through the tree line, they approached what had quickly become their favorite spot.  

After six months, it had become a habit to visit after dinner every night, wandering out to sit next to the rushing creek, listening to the sounds of the night as they talked about their day.  Some nights they kissed for hours under the moonlight, and then there were the nights when they weren’t able to wait until they got back home to make love and Ryder took her right there on the fallen pine-needles.

Life had settled into a somewhat normal routine for them.  Whatever normal was.  Ryder had insisted he couldn’t leave the clubhouse, and Grace had moved in.  The constant partying had taken some getting used to, but she enjoyed the moments like this when she got to be with Ryder alone and away from his club.

They had begun building their own cabin not far from the clubhouse.  It was in the beginning stages, but soon they would have their own private house, where they could get away from the club anytime they wanted.

As for the club, they had welcomed her with open arms. Even Cherry had apologized.  She seemed to look up to Grace now, even confessing that she, too, was a survivor.  They had become fast friends, and Grace almost felt like she had a new family.

It was comforting.

Riot had become her right-hand computer guru, helping her set up stings in the chat rooms that held so many predators just looking for the next thirteen year-old girl they could lure away from her home and take advantage of.  Once she had hooked one, she got the Bureau involved and turned the information over to them.  

Grace was able to do the job she loved, and be with the man she loved, all at the same time.  

Everything was working out perfectly.

Tonight, Grace and Ryder sat on the rock by the creek, while Oliver, the owl, perched in the branches above them.  He followed them out here every night, and Grace had eventually named him.  Ryder wasn’t still wasn’t quite sure what to make of him, but he tolerated his presence.  Not that he had much of a choice in the matter, though.

They didn’t mind.  He was a reminder of the past, and that was just fine. 

“Do you wish you had never remembered?” Ryder asked her, as she leaned into his arms.  He wrapped them around her, pulling her in close to his chest.

“Not for a moment,” she replied, settling into his loving warmth, the familiar scent of leather comforting her like a soothing lullaby.  

“You have to remember where you came from to appreciate where you are.”

***THE END***

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

CHAPTER ONE

Lacey

Some dates are more memorable than others.

“So, you’re Lacey?” the handsome, middle-aged man across the table from me, asked.

“I’m whoever you want me to be,” I replied, smiling sweetly at him.

He chuckled, nodding his head, stretching out his arms and placing his hands behind his head as he leaned back in his chair.  An air of confidence exuded from his large frame.  Light threads of silver wove through his black hair, his heavy hooded eyelids squinting as he laughed.

“Monty said you were eager to please,” he said, his smile, while it might have been charming and playful to any other young woman, was sickening to me.

I didn’t reply.  Not with words.  Instead, I winked at him slyly, a half-smile forming on my red-painted lips as I slipped my stiletto off under the table, and trailed my black-stockinged toe along his ankle.  I slipped under the slacks of his Armani suit, slowly inching up his leg.  It worked every time.

It shut them up.

I hated hearing them talk.  And most of them loved the sound of their voice more than anything else they were paying for.  They thought they were so charming.  So smart. So entertaining. So fucking
important.

To me, they were none of that.  They were boring on the best nights, and downright abusive on the worst.

I played along.  I played the part perfectly - the pretty girl that knew how to pretend you were fascinating during dinner and, even better - how to pretend you had the biggest prick she had ever seen at your hotel room afterwards.

I knew how to follow the rules.  Because I knew what happened when I didn’t.

After hours of small talk over an outrageously extravagant dinner, my companion paid the check, and we walked down the street that led to his five-star hotel.  When he said he wanted to stop at the corner store, I figured he was buying condoms.

But not this guy.

No.

He bought a dozen eggs. And a bottle of wine.  Sure, the eggs were odd, but I was trying not to overthink things.

When we got back to his hotel, the first thing he did was open the wine and offer me a glass.  I accepted, downing it quickly and asking for more.  He refilled my glass as I sat on the sofa.  He sat next to me, each of us silently sipping the dry, red wine.  It was painfully awkward, and I tried to make small talk again to break the ice.

“So, you live in Seattle?”

“Yes, I do.  I’m the CEO of Puget Energy.  I’ve known Monty for two years now. He’s a very…efficient…politician.”  He sipped his wine, and looked over at me.

“Yes, he is,” I replied.
 He was also a very efficient prick
, I thought to myself.  Monty Patterson had been the mayor of Seattle for two years now.  He just so happened to be my pimp and owner, also.  And he had been for four long years before he even ran for office.

“Does he treat you well?” the man next to me on the bed asked.

“Of course,” I lied.

He nodded, staring out through the glass door that led to the balcony of his room and overlooked the bright lights of the sprawling Seattle skyline.

“Do you like eggs?” he asked.  He rose to his feet, and I watched him with confusion as he began to undress.

“Eggs?  I’m not very hungry…after that dinner we just had and all…” I said.  What an odd question to ask, I thought, especially as he began to take off his clothes.

“There’s something about them, you know?” he said, as he loosened his tie.  “I love their texture.  So smooth.  So round.  So solid.  And yet, so fragile.  Delicate, even.”

“Um, sure, I guess so…” I wasn’t sure what he was getting at, but he wasn’t paying Monty fifteen grand for me to think.

“More wine, Lacey?” He stood in front of me in nothing but his silk trousers and black dress socks.  He was in good shape, I had to give him that.  Thick, curly hair covered his muscular chest and the six pack that he was obviously very proud of.  The hair tapered down into a thin line that disappeared into his pants.

“Absolutely,” I replied.  Wine was one of my best friends on nights like these.  Hell, it was my best friend every night.  It made all the bullshit a little easier to endure.  He filled my glass once more before leaving the living area and returning to the kitchen of the suite.

I looked around at the penthouse while I waited.  I had a keen eye for nice furnishings, and this hotel had not skimped on their decorating budget.

I was used to nice things by now.  Not that I had grown up this way, though.  While my mother had desperately longed for a life filled with luxury, it had remained just outside of her reach.  Not that she hadn’t gone to the dark depths of humanity to obtain it, that’s for sure.  When you’ve sold your child to the devil, after a lifetime of using her for your own financial gain, well…you’ve reached a pretty dark place.

It’s not that my mother was evil.  She was just stupid, heinously misguided and tragically poor.  I had the misfortune of being the one child born to her, and consequently, the only chance she felt she ever had to acquire the lifestyle she had spent her life chasing.

The high life.  The good life.  The life of luxury.