Ryder: MC Biker Romance (Great Wolves Motorcycle Club Book 8) (2 page)

My bag might weigh
me down, but I wasn’t leaving that behind. My thoughts raced, and all the
possible scenarios flipped through my head.

Daddy would be
enraged by even the smallest show of disobedience. But marrying David Wexler?
Worse going on a honeymoon with David Wexler? None of it computed. I couldn’t.

I had a lot of
actual and emotional baggage to carry for someone who needed to haul ass. I was
so scared.

When I dropped
from this window, I would really be leaping into the unknown. I’d be crossing a
threshold for sure.

I held tight to
the window ledge for another second. My white pumps dangled. I felt the silk of
my dress snag on the bricks of the church.

Oops. I was
shredding the princess outfit more and more with each passing second.

Then I heaved
myself out. I fell to the ground in a heap of white.

I didn’t stay on
the ground long. I popped up, gathered the voluminous skirt of my fairy tale
wedding dress in a chunk, and held it to one side.

Then I ran.

I ran as fast as
my white stilettos could carry me.

Ryder

I needed to just
ride. I got on my bike and revved the engine. Sometimes it was the best way to
clear my head. To think.

Or to not think.

I looked down at
the patch on my leather.

I was an officer
now for my club. It was pretty cool. Seemed like yesterday I’d just earned my
Great Wolves Grand City cut and now I had the patch of an officer.

It was the auto
body shop. That’s what did it.

I was getting to
be pretty damned responsible.

Great Wolves, my
M.C. ran MMA Gyms, Security Services, and now thanks to me, they were starting auto
body shops. Pretty damn lucrative and it was my idea.

Sawyer, my Prez,
had given me the honor of Sergeant at Arms because of it. And because there’d
been some changes at the top.

Stone, my best friend,
had moved from our charter to one down south and Hagan, the old VP had been
shot in cold blood. Yeah, bullet holes had led to an opening at the table. Sad
but true. No matter how legit you were, violence was a part of the patch.

The recent meeting
at the table of the Wolf Den was fresh in my mind as I watched my treads grip
the back roads.

“I’m going to be
touring for the next month with our MMA fighters. I need this shit locked down.
I need you all to be solid at this table. We’ve got a lot of moving parts.”
Sawyer had said.

With Sawyer out of
the picture for a few weeks, he knew it was important we were settled. Great
Wolves were legit and above board, but that meant strong, stable dudes at the
top so the members didn’t go off and instigate their own mayhem.

Sawyer was our Prez,
and now Steele was our VP. 

Ridge, who’d been
in charge of me when I was a probie, was now Secretary. It was funny the way
the young guys I’d come in with were now moving up. Becoming leaders.

I guess that was
what happened if you were good enough to be a Great Wolf. It wasn’t for
everybody. And that was what put the great in it.

Ridge was scary,
loyal, and didn’t joke around too much. Although he fucked women as if it was
his job his actual job was keeping us in line Stone and me were coming up.

Ridge did his job
for the M.C. well and if the noises I heard from the ladies in the back room
were any gauge he did the other well too. I liked Ridge’s life philosophy.

Hot women, quick
sex and no attachments. I knew there weren’t many women like Sawyer’s old lady
or Stone’s hot new wife.

The only girl I’d
ever spent any amount of time with lately was Dusty. Our bartender and that was
fine with me. She was one of the guys.

The rest? They
seemed to want to fuck anything in leather and turn around and fuck you over.
Nope. Not for me.

I was happy and
very unattached to any women but very attached to my club. I knew I was with
good, tough, loyal badasses. They’d taught me all I knew since my probie days.

Larry, the old
timer, was keeping his job as Treasurer. We were making a lot of bank these
days and having Larry, who Sawyer trusted above all, keep the money locked up,
made us all feel pretty secure.

Now I was
Sergeant-at-Arms of the Great Wolves Grand City Motorcycle Club. Un-fucking-believable.
I would have smiled, but I was on the bike. I wasn’t in the mood for a grill
full of bugs.

I rounded the
curve of a long empty country road. The spring was just starting to turn things
green. I needed the air. I needed the freedom my bike gave me. Even if I was
now a responsible officer of my club and ran a fucking business, the open road,
even for an hour or two, was necessary. If I didn’t ride, I got “squirrelly” as
Sawyer called it. It was my medication.

I was going to
spend a day, maybe three, rough, out in the country, sleeping at a campground I
knew. That was one thing my old man taught me. How to camp. I loved the grease
and the engines of the Great Wolves Auto Body shop, but every once in a while I
had to clear it out of my lungs. I had my best ideas on the road or in a tent.

The members
understood. We all had days, sometimes weeks, where we needed out. Except for
Sawyer. As the Prez, you were never out I guess.

The wind, the
engine, the trees whipping by, all of it was my drug. I was enjoying it, and it
was the perfect way to balance my new responsible life of running Great Wolves
Auto Body. I was completely in my own head. That’s until I saw something on the
side of the road. Something very out of place.

A cotton candy
shaped puff of white caught my eye as it moved strangely forward along the side
of the road. It was sort of hard to make out what I saw so I eased back on the
throttle as I got closer.

It was a woman.
And I had to close my eyes tight and re-focus them to be sure I was really
seeing her.

She was running,
pretty damn fast actually, for all the fluff that she was hauling with her. I
scanned her from head to toe as I approached.

She had piles of
blonde hair with flowers woven in and out of it. I could see white netting,
lace, and sparkle covering her from the neck to her tiny waist, and then an
explosion of white skirt. She was carrying it to the side, as her legs, covered
in white fishnets, pumped fast. At the bottom of this wedding cake topper, gone
rogue was a pair of muddy Converse tennis shoes.

Well,
that explained how she was able to haul
ass as fast as she was.

As I got closer,
she made a break for the tree line and off the road. I’d probably spooked her,
but I really did want to know what the story was. There was no one around for
miles. Where had she come from?

As she scrambled
to the woods, I called out.

“Hey, stop!” I
lifted my helmet off my head. I watched her trip and take a tumble. I put my
stand down and got off the bike.

“Stay away!” She
yelled as she tried to get up, navigating her giant dress, which was now
grass-stained. It was like a tangled fishnet around her legs.

I put both my
hands up. I supposed my leather and current Mohawk hair style was not the most
reassuring sight for anyone to see much less a sprinting, uh, bride? Yes. I was
looking at a runaway bride here.

“Listen, Princess
Buttercup. I’m not here to hurt you. Just looks like you need a little help.”
She was looking down, her back to me, and she was still.

When she turned
her head and lifted it to face me, I felt something very strange. She had gray
eyes. I’d never seen that color of eyes before, and they looked very much like
the eyes of someone being hunted. Panic was just under the surface. And she was
thinking. It showed in her eyes and furrowed brow.

She looked up and
down at me. Nothing about how I look was going to make her feel safer. That I
knew.

“Are you a Great
Wolf?” She asked me. Which was a surprise, odd that this little princess knew
what a Great Wolf was, didn’t seem like it fit?

“Yes.”

“I need a ride.
Fast. Out of here. Now.” She figured out a way to stand up, despite the massive
amount of white fluff pulling her down, and she looked me in the eyes again.

I moved from her
eyes to button nose and perfect bow shaped lips. God this princess was like out
of a book for sure. I still wasn’t one-hundred percent sure that this was real.
Had I accidently smoked something more than a little weed lately?

“Well, you’re in
luck. Riding fast and out of here is my current destination.” I put out a hand,
and she hesitated. She looked down the road. It was empty. Was she expecting
something to be there? It was just the two of us. Her gray eyes were beautiful,
no question, but scared.

The road she’d
been running along was deserted that I knew since I was on it. What was she so
worried about?

We stood on
opposite sides of a drainage ditch that kept the Michigan country roads flood
free in the wet spring. We were the only two people in sight on this clear
spring Sunday morning.

A biker and a
bride sizing each other up. I’m sure it made a curious picture.

Then she put her
hand in mine. I noticed how rough and dark my skin looked next to her soft
white skin. I also noticed a stiffening in areas I did not expect. It was a
shock. Apparently, I had a Princes Bride fetish that I was unaware of until
this second.

I pulled her
across the ditch and up to me. She leaped at that same moment, and we were
about half an inch apart. I took a breath in through my nose. There was a sweet
smell to her hair. Maybe it was the flowers. I could see they were real and
interwoven in this elaborate hair situation. I wanted to get closer to her. To breathe
in again. Instead, I stood still and let her get her balance.

Her stormy eyes
met mine. I meant to kiss her. I really did. I questioned myself again. Had
someone put a magic mushroom on my last pizza?

But I snapped out
of it.

“Where to?” I
said.

“Anywhere but
here,” she said, and she kept her hand in mine.

“Alright,
Princess.” I guided her up to my bike and watched her hike her dress up. This
time, I caught a glimpse of garter belts. Shit. This was likely a very messy
situation I was helping her out of. But the garter belts were enough. Mess or
not I was putting her on my bike.

“My name isn’t
Princess.” She said.

“Oh yeah, well you
look like one. Except for those kicks.” I answered as I made sure she had all
of her dress up and safely tucked in away from my tires and around her.

“My name’s Juliet,
Jules. You can call me Jules.”

“Sounds like a
very princess name if you ask me. I’m Ryder. Keep that dress up so you don’t
get killed. And hold on tight.”

“Are you headed to
a town?” She asked me.

“I’m headed to a
campground. Few days off. That work for you?”

“It’ll do for now.
Let’s go.”

“Okay Princess,
uh, Jules.” And I got on my bike and kicked the stand out. I revved it up and
unleashed. If she wanted to go fast, I’d show her fast.

She held on,
looser than I’d recommend at the speed we were going. She was a little wild
this runaway princess bride. That was clear. She liked the speed so I took the
pins out for her.

I wondered for a
second, who was the prince or groom she’d left behind? Was he the one that
sparked the fear in her eyes when she’d looked at the road behind her?

I didn’t wonder
for long. Instead, I enjoyed the road, the wind, the clean air, and the feeling
of having Jules lightly hold on as we road.

The smell of flowers
mixed in with the smell of my leather. The combo worked. It worked like crazy.

Jules

Hot. There was no
other way to describe Ryder. He was hot. He looked like Brad Pitt era Thelma
and Louise wrapped tight in leather and topped off in a Mohawk. And he had the
sexiest smile I’d ever seen. I mean ever. And I had been treated to some sexy
smiles when I dated the captain of the football team in college.

Ryder’s smile let
me know he’d seen my garter belt but wasn’t going to mention it. He didn’t need
to.

I had been on fast
bikes before. And I knew exactly what every patch on Ryder’s leather meant. He
was Sergeant-at-Arms of the Great Wolves M.C., Grand City Chapter.

I was raised in
the club. Just not that one. I was raised to hate the Great Wolves because
Daddy said to.

“They’ve gone soft,
and they act so fucking superior. Fine with me. I’ll take every last cent they
would have earned. Idiots.”

I’d heard that and
versions of it right before I’d left home for college. Now that I was back, I
tried to remember the latest. I remembered Daddy saying there was some sort of trouble,
but I hadn’t listened to details.

I wish I had.
Whatever. I could use Ryder’s fast bike and clear appreciation of my looks to
get as far away from the church as possible. He’d told me to hold tight, but I
didn’t need to. I could have driven this bike myself. I held on but only just
enough.

And I kept looking
back. I envisioned the scene. Ross would be in deep shit when my Daddy realized
I’d slipped away. That gave me a pang of guilt, but I brushed it aside. He’d
have to fend for himself just as I was doing.

I squeezed my eyes
shut and blocked out the scene. I didn’t want to imagine the rage I had set off
in my Daddy.

I had to stay in
the present if I didn’t want to be dragged back by my hair to that damn church.
For a brief second, I let myself enjoy the ride. Enjoy Ryder. He smelled good.
He felt good, and he was handling this bike well. Fast, confident, but also
careful. He was making sure I had a good ride. Which I noticed as he smoothed
out the curves and avoided the constant Michigan potholes.

I put my head on
his shoulder. I shouldn’t have. But it felt right, and it helped me think. It
helped me plan. I had to stay out of sight. Was this campground Ryder was
headed to also a good idea for me?

I mulled it over
for half a second or less. When I felt, Ryder pull up on the throttle. I looked
to see why up ahead. And then I looked behind. There were two bikes on our path
and one behind us.

Fuck.

The Devil’s Hawks
had caught up to me. Shit. The two bikes were stopped and blocking our
progress. Ryder had no choice but to stop. He enabled the kickstand of his
bike. He looked at me and said in a low cold voice, “Stay right here. These are
some bad dudes.”

“But...” he didn’t
give me a chance to explain.

“I’m badder.” And
he flashed that smile at me. Shit. He had no idea what he’d done by picking me
up.

Daddy had sent
Boone and Headlock. They were mean, tough, and stupidly loyal. If Daddy said jump,
they did. Behind us was a guy I didn’t recognize. I didn’t focus on him. I
needed to warn Ryder. Ryder didn’t know what they were capable of. I did.

I knew Boone and
Headlock were deadly. 

Ryder spoke up
first.

“You’re gonna want
to move out of the way.” His smile was still there, but his eyes had changed.
The sexy flirt was gone and instead Ryder was something else. There was ice in his
eyes now.

“You go from Devil’s
Hawks to this piece of shit Great Wolf?” Boone was looking in my eyes and
ignored Ryder’s request.

“This isn’t your
business Boone,” I said, and Ryder looked at me.

“You know these meatheads?”
Ryder asked me and I caught the surprise in his expression.

“Oh, we know you
don’t we Jules? Not as much as we’d like. Kept that pussy locked up tight but
not after we get you back to the church, right?” Boone said.

“Don’t be such a pig,
Boone.” The other Hawk was rustling behind us. God. Did they plan to shoot Ryder?
Force me to go with them? I struggled with the question of just how far Daddy’s
guys would go to bring me back.

“Maybe we take a
little side trip on the way back to the church.” Headlock apparently took
Boone’s disgusting lead.

“I’m sure I don’t
know what you’re talking about, but this lady doesn’t have to go anywhere with
you.” Ryder put a hand behind him and around me. Jesus I was going to get this
man killed five minutes after meeting him.

I decided to end
it right then. I wasn’t going to risk it. This was my problem and running away
had failed. I’d come up with something else.

“Ryder thank you,
but I can’t let you get in any trouble because of my situation. I shouldn’t
have dragged anyone else into this.”

I walked out away
from Ryder and toward Boone and Headlock. I looked at the other Hawk, who was now
next to Ryder. We were really penned in. I looked at the smallest of the three
Hawk’s patch. Dirt. His name was Dirt? Ugh.

“I’ll ride back
with Dirt.” I figured that was one way to keep my distance from Boone and
Headlock. They looked like the worst of the three evils.

Ryder stayed on
guard. The situation was about as tense as it could get but once I got on Dirt’s
bike, I’d be okay. Well, Ryder would anyway. I’d be screwed again.

Almost paralyzing
disappointment washed over me. I had a moment when I was running when I had
hitched a ride when I thought it was going to work. I was going to escape
before they knew I was gone. I hoped for that moment that I had pulled it off.
But as soon as these three showed up, I knew I was going to have to give myself
up. I wasn’t going to drag this handsome and kind stranger into my drama. I
felt guilty that he was even here.

“Listen, Jules
you really don’t have to go with these three,”
Ryder said, and I kept getting farther from him and closer to Dirt.

“Thanks, really,
please, this isn’t your problem. You don’t want to get involved in this mess.”
I said, and Ryder looked skeptical, and I’d almost say hurt. Of course, I’d
only known him for a few minutes. I was clearly projecting.

“I don’t mind a
mess.” He said, but I turned away. He had no idea. And it turned out neither
did I.

Dirt smiled at me.
He was one of Daddy’s yes men. A soldier. He was one of the dozens. But Dirt
was better than Boone or Headlock. They’d already said what they thought ought to
happen to me.

As I got closer,
Dirt reached into a bag that he’d stashed behind him. Before I had time to even
process what I saw, he pulled out a finger. Not his finger. An actual severed
finger!

I felt revulsion
so strong that it nearly knocked me over.

“Dirt? What did
you do? What is that?” I screamed.

“Oh, it’s Ross’s.
That’s what you get when you fail the Devil’s Hawks.” Dirt took a step toward
me with his horrific and bloody prize. This was my fault. I had caused this. I
had slipped out of Ross’s fingers, and now Daddy had shown me in the most
violent way what that meant. Ross had suffered because of me.

But I couldn’t go
with Dirt, Boone, or Headlock. They were monsters in my eyes, barbarians. The
finger was still bloody, still recognizable. Oh God, poor Ross. I just wanted
to run away. Run into the woods. I forgot about Ryder, Boone, Headlock, only Dirt,
who stood in front of me we the evidence of my Daddy’s brutality, was in my
mind. Daddy’s brutal visual aid was like jet fuel.

Dirt took another step
forward, and I bolted. I didn’t have a plan or a strategy, just get away. Get
away fast.

Dirt was clumsy.
When he grabbed for me I had already started running. I had a ton of wedding
dress slowing me down, but I didn’t care. I leaped over the ditch and into the
field next to the road.

I landed on my hands
and knees and looked back. Ryder! He’d wound up and punched Dirt so hard he had
to be unconscious. It had allowed me to put more distance between me and all of
them.

But Boone and
Headlock were closing in fast on Ryder. They were going to overtake him for
sure.

“Ryder LOOK OUT.”
And he turned around to find both of Daddy’s goons coming at him. I really
should have taken the moment to keep running. To head to the tree line. To run
like hell until my heart exploded. I should have said sorry about your luck
Ryder.

But I couldn’t. My
selfish focus on my own trouble had already claimed one victim, Ross. I
couldn’t let it claim another.

I watched Ryder
kick a gun out of Headlock’s hand and then pummel him in the nose. Ryder, who
seemed so easy going and fun, was anything but. He’d be a more challenging
target for Daddy’s goons then they’d expected. But still that he was a target
at all was my fault.

I was stunned as I
watched Ryder handle Headlock with a few more devastating blows. I also saw
Boone take out a handgun and aimed at the two of them. He was getting ready to
shoot. I suppose he only hesitated because Ryder and Headlock were so close. Plus,
if Boone killed Headlock, he’d have to explain that to Daddy. Daddy decided who
lived and died.

I had a second of
indecision. I could run back and try to get the gun from Boone. But I knew I
was no match for him physically. And in a wedding dress no less. What I did
have was a good arm.

I looked around
quickly and there it was. A rock that fit right in my fist. I stood up and took
aim.

I may not be big,
but I was a pitcher on my high school softball team. I knew how to throw. I
launched the rock at Boone. His head was my target, and I hit it. The rock I’d
launched landed squarely on his temple.

It stunned him and
distracted him from Ryder and Headlock. He lifted a hand to his now bleeding
head and changed his focus to me. Good. I had Ross’s blood on my hands. I
didn’t want Ryder’s too.

Boone turned the
gun on me. Fine. Ryder at least wasn’t in the crosshairs now. Just me. Now and
probably forever. Damn Daddy.

“Take another step
and I’ll shoot you,” he said to me.

“Daddy won’t be
too happy if I get shot.”

“He told us to
bring you back. That’s all. Didn’t tell us not to wing you.”

What the hell?
Would Boone really shoot me? I didn’t know. But I wasn’t stupid enough to test
it.

I was no match for
Boone in any category. Boone was fast, huge, and accurate. He closed the
distance over the ditch in about three steps. In an instant, he had his strong
hand wrapped tightly around my arm and yanked me forward.

He barked in my
ear. “That’s enough of your bullshit. Let’s go.” And he dragged me along.

He also made an
incredible misstep. He’d put his back to Ryder. Ryder had taken care of Dirt
for good it appeared, and Headlock was also now in a heap.

Somehow, in my
flight from the Devil's Hawks, I’d stumbled onto a one-man wrecking crew, and
he was pissed. The smile and the sexy flirt were gone.

I hadn’t seen
anyone in my entire life as lethal looking as Daddy until this moment. And his
name was Ryder.

“Get your fucking
hands off the lady.” He said in a low voice that scared me and got Boone’s
attention.

“Stay out of it,
Great Wolf. She’s not your business.” Boone squeezed tighter, and I winced. His
whole hand fit around my bicep.

“She is now,” said
Ryder. Boone had me in one hand and a gun aimed at Ryder in another. I knew
Boone was going to kill him. I’d underestimated Daddy’s club. An
underestimation that had already lead to gruesome violence.

I looked Ryder in
the eye. I hoped he sensed what I was throwing at him.

With all the
strength I had, I pulled away. Boone’s grip didn’t loosen, but I did pull him
off balance. And his gun off its target.

Ryder didn’t
hesitate. He grabbed for it, and Boone was forced to let me go. I fell to the
ground and watched Boone and Ryder struggle against each other as I crawled to
get the distance between Daddy's men and me. Ryder had grabbed Boone’s wrist. Their
bodies clashed as they wrestled for the gun.

Then it went off.
It cracked the quiet of the countryside with a loud pop sound and stopped the
struggle between the men. Was it Ryder? Had I caused another man to be hurt
today?

The two men
separated. Ryder didn’t have the gun. It was still in Boone’s hand. He’d
somehow shot himself. He grabbed at his thigh, and I saw a red splotch stain
the denim of Boone’s jeans. It had ripped a whole in the side, but it looked
more like a scratch.

“You fucking son
of a bitch.” He spat the words at Ryder and dropped to one knee as he examined
himself.

“It grazed your
leg you pussy,” Ryder said and then he was a blur of aggression. Ryder kicked
the weapon out of Boone’s hand and then kicked it again into the field. He
wound up again and struck another devastating blow across Boone’s jaw. Boone
went down. In the space of a few minutes, he’d rendered all three Devil’s Hawks
unconscious.