Ripper (Steelwood MC #2)

Chapter 1 Haven

Haven

After abandoning my car two miles away and walking through the darkness using nothing but a star-lit sky to guide me toward my destination, I make it.

Right at the heart of the Steelwood MC. A building far too big for something all the way out here in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but grass and trees.

Bikes are lined up in a long row; the owner of each is inside, where music vibrates through the walls. Too many to count on both hands together. Meaning, I’m about to enter the Devil’s den—my deathplace.

Using the darkness to my advantage, I creep up from the back and try to remain unnoticed as I move along chipped brick walls toward the source of the music. Reaching the corner, I pause long enough to steady my heart and catch my breath.

Not that it matters. Just thinking about heading inside is all it takes to make me dizzy. My fear is what will give me away at this rate. I’m one panic attack away from drawing unwanted attention.

I can do this. Think of Paulie.

Taking in a deep breath, I ignore all the warning bells and make my way into the clubhouse.

The sound of music and cheers swallows up the silence of the outside, devouring it like a meal.

I’m left dizzy by the smell of cigarette smoke and spilled alcohol.

If I’m not careful, I might accidentally step on broken glass or liquid.

How my brother regularly hung out in a place like this is a complete mystery to me.

I have an unsettling feeling of being watched, as if I’ve already been noticed, but I know it’s just fear trying to make me run. I won’t run.

Someone turns the jukebox up, the song’s beat matching my heartbeat. The thump thump thump is overwhelming.

Instead of letting myself freak out like I want to, I focus on my mission here. One small task to handle, then everything in my life can go back to the way it used to be.

I’ll convince Paulie to stay far from thugs with drugs. Then, I’ll make enough room for him in my home so I can keep a good eye on his actions, so we don’t get in such a tight spot ever again.

First things first. Confirm Eliza Parsons is here. Then convince her to come with me. Take her to Meadow Falls so the Crimson Road MC can have her. Easy as pie.

Where do I even begin? I can’t exactly ask for the pretty blonde without attracting unwanted attention. Sure, I have a picture, but that’s a quick way to look suspicious.

Spotting a bar with a pretty good view, I stroll over with the intention of scanning the faces to see if any of them stand out. I just need to find someone who stands out.

I’m way in over my head.

There are so many blonde women here, it’s not funny. Most are sitting on the laps of bikers. A few are throwing back shots, as if tomorrow isn’t Wednesday.

I’m not the one to judge, but something tells me none of the women I can see is the one I’m looking for.

Just as I’m disappointed by the last head of blonde hair, a man plops down next to me. One look at him and fear tightens in my chest. He’s wearing a patch on his chest with “Vice President” spelled out in all caps.

My nerves start prickling up, and I force my eyes forward in hopes he won’t notice me.

He leans forward, calling out for a drink, waving to a woman who seems to be ignoring him as she pours someone else a drink.

Stay calm, Haven. Breathe.

I’ve mastered the art of being invisible; now is the most crucial moment of my life to take advantage of it.

The same woman drifts our way, but she doesn’t stop in front of him. Instead, she stops in front of me.

“Need something to drink, sweetie? You’re looking pale.” Her brows pinch together as she tilts her head. “Maybe something to eat.”

“Do you have anything non-alcoholic?” I ask quietly, thinking it can’t hurt to try. I’ve never been to a bar, but I can’t drink anything that might impair me, even if it makes me stand out. Food isn’t an option, not when I know I won’t be able to keep it down.

The corner of her mouth twitches as she tries not to smile, but she nods and disappears long enough for the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up.

He’s watching me.

Telling myself that it’s just my imagination, that I’m trying to psych myself out, my eyes trail to the side to confirm my suspicions.

The man isn’t discreet about it. With a slight smile, he leans on his arm, fixing his gaze on me as if nothing else in the room interests him.

The heat I feel on my cheeks forms too quickly, spreading to my ears.

It’s because he’s good-looking. Closer to Paulie’s age. A little stubble on his cheeks and a curve on his lips that probably wins over women’s hearts with ease. Heck, mine beats a little faster because of it.

Quickly, I learn it’s not just his looks that are in his favor.

“Haven’t seen you around here.” His voice is a deep, silken tone, a low hum that twists something deep in my gut. Not exactly unsettling, but foreign enough to make me squirm. “Got a name, sweetheart?”

The answer almost comes easily, down to the point that my lips already part. I don’t know if it’s his tone, or his smile, or what. Maybe I just want to hear what Haven sounds like coming from his lips.

Before I can answer, the woman returns. She’s cradling a red drink that’s fizzing with carbonation. Sliding it toward me, she doesn’t ask for anything in return. Instead, her eyes narrow on the man currently wearing blinders.

“Ripper.” She clicks her tongue at him with a frown, rolling her eyes when he turns his smile at her. Seems he likes any woman’s attention on him, even the bartender’s. “Leave the girl alone. Does she look like she wants you in her space?”

The question is rhetorical, but his gaze moves between us. I feel every inch of my body as his eyes ghost over me, drinking in my appearance. Not even being subtle about his curiosity, he leans in and smells thickly of spice. Close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off of him.

When I flinch, he sighs and pulls back. His smile momentarily fades, revealing a hint of annoyance so quick that it makes me question my eyes. “Suppose not. Can’t help myself. I’m attracted to beautiful women.”

This guy thinks I’m the good-looking one? He must’ve already had too much to drink.

Hiding the tremble of my fingers behind gripping my glass, my throat bobs with my next swallow. The fizz tingles my tongue, and if I weren’t feeling nervous, I could’ve really enjoyed this drink. It tastes like soda, and the cherry is a little bonus.

While he turns his attention away from me, he remains still, calling the woman Raven and sweetly asking her for a drink.

“I get you’re bored just hanging out here, but there’s probably something better you could do than trying to pick up another woman,” she says, clicking her tongue as she fills a glass with dark liquid. “Find a new hobby or something. I honestly thought you were doing pretty well lately.”

He swats his hand, hardly disproving her claim. I guess it makes it easier knowing he’s a ladies’ man. It’ll lessen the chance of him lingering in the back of my mind. I already have enough haunting me as it is.

As they chat, I sip the drink down as fast as I can so I don’t have an excuse to linger. Needing some distance so I can feel safe again, the cost is a sore stomach, as the carbonation brings discomfort.

Watching people come and go from the bar around us, I figure it’s okay just to leave my empty glass. As soon as the chance arises, I’m gone. Running away with my tail between my legs, I find a quiet corner to hide in and rethink my plan.

I’m having a tough time believing that some rich guy’s daughter is hanging out casually here. Are they sure this is the place she’s staying in? Could she be somewhere deeper in?

As my stomach twists and turns into tighter knots, I groan softly as I scan the faces of the bikers, hoping one will stand out.

They all look the same. Scarred or tattooed, all wearing leather, and the same creepy skull against their back. They resemble the same kind of men who kept my brother captive. It’s hard not to confuse the two.

I… don’t even know if Paulie is still breathing. That’s the scariest part of all this. The last time I saw him, his eye was swollen shut, and there was blood.

So much blood.

At this rate, it seems inevitable that the outcome will be the same. I’m going to lose the only family I’ve got left.

Doubt whispers in my mind. What if this is for nothing? A wild goose chase as Paulie’s time bleeds out unseen. Nausea grips me, my hand trembles, and I clench it into a fist, nails biting into my palm.

Lifting away from my hiding spot, I’m on the move, determined to find what I’m looking for before these thoughts consume me.

I pass a grimy, unmarked door—a storage closet, maybe—and then another that clearly leads to a foul-smelling restroom. I need something more. A private space. Somewhere, a privileged daughter could be stashed away from the filth and noise.

Against the back wall, two doors show more promise. With my eyes set, my steps grow faster. Breathing in deep to calm myself, it’s the familiar scent of spice that makes my skin prickle up with goosebumps.

“You need help finding something?” Directly behind me, a voice rings out.

My heart pounds wildly inside my chest, as if trying to escape. Despite this, I gather the courage to tilt my head back and meet the intense brown eyes of the guy at the bar.

Ripper. The Vice President.

He’s still smiling with a casual, friendly lip curve that doesn’t reach his calculating, flat eyes. The smile feels like a threat, the scariest thing I’ve seen since entering.

I need an excuse, and I need one now.

“Uh.” My brain betrays me by short-circuiting. What comes out is a strangled sound, a struggle of a response. “No. Just trying to find the exit, actually.”

His gaze remains fixed. He doesn’t look at the main entrance but instead fixes his eyes beyond me, toward one of the heavy doors. His smile slightly broadens, subtly acknowledging my weak lie. Then, he presses his hand steadily against the small of my back.

“Let me help,” he says with a low, inviting purr that leaves no room for refusal. “Right this way.”

I don’t get the chance to respond before I’m being pushed toward my destination. Like he doesn’t want to make a scene, he leads me toward a place I’m starting to think isn’t harboring Eliza.

The door easily swings open with Ripper’s free hand, swinging back closed as he pushes me through.

I don’t even get the chance to take in the bare room, not before I’m being pushed against the wall right next to the door.

My breath catches as his hand touches my throat. He doesn’t squeeze hard enough to cut off my air, just enough to create pressure with my next nervous swallow. As fear fills my chest, my immediate reaction is to try to grab his wrist.

This guy might as well be made of steel because he doesn’t even wince when I dig my nails into his flesh.

He leans in, filling my lungs with that same spice smell from earlier. Cinnamon. My head spins, and my legs feel weak. Is it because of the fear he’s bringing out of me, or is it him?

His smile morphs into a flat line, and the danger I sensed from him earlier is now fully radiating from him.

“Tell me something.” His command drops out like a purr as his thumb brushes my racing pulse. “You don’t belong here. So, who are you? Don’t even think about lying again, beautiful. Once was enough, even if it was a pathetic attempt.”

Does it matter? Regardless of the answer, I’m pretty sure I’m doomed. This Adonis-like guy is the one likely to be the one to end me.