Chapter 6- Betrayed
Tiffany
Barely cognizant of her surroundings, Tiffany laid her head against Ryder’s muscular chest, marveling at how safety could feel so unfamiliar. After years of running, having a real home—even one filled with outlaw bikers—felt like a dream she might wake from at any moment.
Enjoying the warmth of his body, she allowed him to carry her into their place. Well, it was really his place. Ryder was a bit of an anomaly in that he was a biker with a nice house and insisted upon her moving in with him.
Though living with him was like a dream come true in terms of having good company and someone to cuddle up to, Tiffany did feel guilty for not contributing. At the moment, though, all those worries were a million miles from her mind.
Ryder kicked the door shut and juggled her slightly as he flipped the lock. The house still smelled of the cookies she’d baked earlier in the day, but the sweet scent of almond was nothing compared to the smell of her hot, sexy man. He exuded expensive cologne and sexy male. Kissing his chest, she fisted his shirt in her hand.
“You awake, kitten? We’re home.”
In a sleepy haze, she responded, “I haven’t had a real home in a long time.”
Lifting her slightly, he kissed her forehead. “Well, you got one now. Having you here makes a house worth having.”
“You say the sweetest things.”
“I love you,”
he said, his voice rumbling in his chest. Peering down at her, his eyes were practically glowing with happiness…or maybe from the endless shots in celebration of Ace making the cut.
“I think that’s the alcohol taking, handsome.”
Heading straight to the bedroom, he set her on the bed and began peeling off her clothing. “I’m not the one who’s had too much to drink, sweetheart.”
Helping kick off her pants, she mumbled, “I’m not drunk. I providence…romance…promise.”
Kicking wildly, she tried to get them over her boots, forgetting that they had been tucked in.
Kneeling down, Ryder gently pulled her boots off then her pants. “Yeah, you sure don’t sound too sober.”
He rose, and she immediately went for the snap on his jeans, since it was at eye level.
Smacking her hands away, Ryder began working her shirt and bra up and over her head. “Cut it out, sweetness. You ain’t gonna be playing with my cock tonight.”
Flopping back on the bed, wearing only her panties, she gazed up at him. “Are you getting naked?”
“I always sleep naked. You know that. You are in no condition to be trying to have sex.”
The idea that he could take advantage of her at this point in their relationship was sweet if not a little frustrating. She knew what she wanted, drinks or no drinks, but persuading her gorgeous biker would take some serious work.
“Maybe I could lay on your side with my legs spread. If your cock accidently fell into me, well, no one would have to know.”
Chuckling, he began tearing his clothing off. “How’s about we sleep and see who accidentally falls into who when you’re nice and sober?”
Shaking her head, she placed one foot on his lower abdomen. “I don’t like that plan.”
“Tough shit, princess. You never gave me permission when you were sober to fuck you drunk, so we ain’t.”
Rolling over with sharp, forceful movements, she pouted. “You make me so sad.”
Scooting up behind her, Ryder slid his arms around her waist and pulled up the blankets. “There, there. Everything’s going to be okay.”
His warmth at her back and his voice in her ear were so soothing—not just his physical presence, but the way he guarded her even from himself. In her old world, power meant taking. Here, it meant knowing when to step back.
Tiffany didn’t have energy enough to continue arguing. Shoving her bottom back, she snuggled her back against his bare chest and closed her eyes.
Ryder
Smiling to himself, Ryder tucked the blanket around his softly snoring old lady. Peering around the side of her head, he pulled her hair back out of her face and kissed her on the cheek. This woman was the one. There were no doubts niggling in the back of his mind this time.
Rolling onto his back, he thought his situation over.
It amused him to no end that she was all about riding his dick for all of about three minutes, and then she was out like a light. Not that he wouldn’t like to get his dick ridden, ‘cause he sure as hell did. However, taking advantage of the one person he cared about most when she was thoroughly intoxicated was wrong in every sense of the word. Hell, the fact that she was too drunk to understand that was proof enough for him of what a bad idea it was.
His phone on the bedside table lit up. Who the fuck would be calling at this hour, he wondered as he stalked to the living room. Club calls never came at convenient times, but late-night ones usually meant trouble. The kind that left marks. Climbing out of bed, Ryder stalked to the living room before answering the call.
Darkness’ raspy voice sounded through the line. “That hot little bitch of yours pass out on you?”
“How the fuck did you know that?”
Croaking a laugh, his boss responded, “You answered your phone. You wouldn’t have done that if you were busy. You left here thirty minutes ago. It takes twenty to get to your place. I’ve watched you fuck club whores, and you ain’t ever finished in less than thirty minutes. Ergo, she’s sleeping, and you’re thinking about having a wank.”
“Ergo, you’re a prick,”
Ryder retorted, annoyed that he was right and even more so that they were even discussing this.
“I knew it,”
Darkness said with smug satisfaction.
“You ain’t the fucking genius you seem to think you are. I hope you know that.”
Darkness’ voice sobered. “Ain’t no call to be gettin’ nasty with me, brother.”
Sighing, Ryder dropped down onto the sofa and dragged one hand over the side of his head. “Sorry, man. You’re right. What’s up? You must have called for a reason.”
“I just got a call. The night watchman says that new property we’ve got our eyes on got tagged tonight. Thinking about going out for a look and wondered if you want to join me.”
The house was shrouded in darkness, and Tiffany was off in dreamland and not likely to wake up till morning. Late morning. Which left Ryder with fuck-all to do. “Well, since I clearly don’t have anything interesting to do with my night, sure.”
Darkness laughed. It was an empty, soulless sound that sent a shiver up Ryder’s spine. “Meet you there, brother.”
Going to the laundry room, Ryder pulled some clothing from the basket and got dressed. As he pulled the zipper on his fly up, he frowned, realizing he was pulling on dirty clothing to keep from waking his lady. He didn’t know quite how he felt about that. His club brothers would definitely consider that being pussy-whipped.
But whatever, right? At least he had a woman, which was more than half those assholes could say for themselves.
Quietly leaving the house, Ryder climbed onto his bike and coasted down the driveway a bit until he was certain the noise of the engine wouldn’t wake Tiffany, then he hit the road, ending up at the site in a little under an hour. In the distance, he spotted Darkness sitting on his bike, talking to the night watchman. Ryder eased over to listen to their conversation.
“Well, what can you tell me, dipshit?”
“I…I did…didn’t see…see…see…no…nothing.”
The disgusted look on his president’s face told Ryder the man wasn’t coping with Dwaine’s speech impediment very well. Motioning him over, Ryder began asking yes and no questions to get the information they needed.
“It appears Dwaine did rounds each hour and was working the seven-to-seven night shift. On his ten-pm round, he noticed the graffiti, meaning the unit had been tagged somewhere between eight and nine,”
he relayed. “Can we see the log entry for that period of time?”
“There ain…ain’t been no…nobody…but…m…me.”
Darkness climbed off his bike, impatience radiating off him. “Let’s go have a look.”
“I don’t have a good feeling about this,”
Ryder said, uneasiness creeping through him. “You go have a look, and I’ll circle around, just in case.”
“Good call.”
Knowing that Darkness would give him a ten-minute head start to scope out the area, Ryder took off on foot.
Pulling out his gun, he moved soundlessly through the brush surrounding the property.
Thinking back to his childhood, Ryder felt as if he were eight years old again.
His father used to take him out to the forest, and they would take turns stalking each other through the thicket with paintball guns.
Even to this day, the sting of a well-placed paintball pellet brought back fond memories.
The thrill of nailing his old man every now and then never got old.
Something about stalking at night really flipped all the right switches for Ryder. The skills his father had drilled into him since childhood weren't just games anymore—they were survival tools, honed by years of club enforcement. Tonight, those lessons might mean the difference between life and death.
The low-light situation, the chilled air filling his lungs, and the slight mist his exhale created felt both familiar and right.
His ears perked up, as he heard a slight rustle of leaves off to his left. Moving silently in that direction, Ryder brought his weapon up when he heard someone click a bullet into a rifle. There was no other sound like it. A thrill surged through him as he realized that he was probably up against a sniper, maybe even a professional hitman.
Adrenaline pulsed through his system as Ryder put one sure foot in front of the other. He hadn’t gone more than a few feet when a glimmer in the moonlight caught his eye. Pulling a branch aside, he zeroed in on it and discovered it was the backside of a scope.
Smiling at the leather-clad female setting her sights on Darkness, he raised his weapon and squeezed off a shot to her shoulder. The arm holding the gun went limp, and he moved forward before she could turn around. Jerking her up and back by her hair, Ryder discovered she had several weapons hidden on her small body. Divesting her of the various assortments of handguns, knives, and her trusty snipper rifle, he perp walked her down to the warehouse.
The look on his friend's face when he caught sight of the woman was nothing short of pure, blind fury—the kind that came from old wounds ripped fresh. Ryder had seen that look before, usually right before blood hit pavement. “Abigail Fucking Andrews. Long time, no see, bitch.”
“Darwin Fucking Dawson, as I live and breathe.”
Ryder did a double take between the two of them as they shot daggers at each other. Tossing the sniper rifle to Darkness, he stated flatly, “Bitch had you in her sights when I rolled up on her.”
The woman fell onto one knee. Glancing down, Ryder realized she had one finger pressed into the bullet wound and her hand smashing down around it. “Forgot to mention, I winged her.”
Darkness stalked up to her, crunching gravel under his boots. Squatting down, he looked her in the face. “Let me get this straight. You were going to shoot my ass?”
“I got no choice,”
she claimed, her voice strained. “The devil’s comin’, babe. Either you’re taken out, or my world goes to shit.”
The older biker’s upper lip curved into a snarl. “You still run with Seven Devils? That ain’t so smart. I’m surprised you’re still walking and talking, bitch.”
A sinister voice rang out of the darkness, and a mean looking fucker Ryder had never seen before stepped out of the shadows. “Abby made her choice between the Devil and the Darkness. Now, she’ll do as she’s told, like everyone else.”
Coming instantly to his feet, Darkness somehow ended up with a weapon in each hand. “You should keep your dogs on a shorter leash, Devil. This pretty little bitch strayed onto my property. That makes her mine.”
Flicking his hand matter-of-factly, he stated, “Possession is nine tenths of the law, you know.”
Staggering to her feet, Abigail tried to run to Devil. Darkness snapped out one arm, catching her in the chest. The woman bounced back and landed on her ass. Without looking back, Darkness growled, “Don’t try that again or I’ll put a bullet in your brain pan, bitch. You and me, we got business to discuss. After that, you can go crawling back into whatever hole you climbed out of.”
Turning his attention back to the man, Darkness sighed. “Why’d you tag this building, Devil? You marking territory for your club?”
“Fuck no. I’m not interested in this little backwater town. We use the river. Don’t need your dumb fucks unloading lead on our boats as we speed by.”
“You could have phoned that shit in.”
“Yeah, my communication skills suck, but I’m bettin’ you ain’t gonna forget our little conversation tonight, now are you?”
“You’re fucking mental if you think we’re gonna roll over and play dead.”
“Didn’t think for a minute you would.”
His cold eyes slid to Abigail.
Darkness spoke sourly. “That’s why you sent your bitch to snipe my ass?”
The other man shrugged, his dirty, worn leather cut shifting on his rail-thin body. “Putting a bullet in your head seemed like the shortest distance between two points. This was supposed to be the job that set little Abigail free.”
Wheezing a humorless laugh, he snarled, “Looks like it turned out to be the job that got her a new master.”
Darkness froze, and Ryder could tell the little wheels in his head were turning. “Can you give me a terribly compelling reason not to blow your head off where you stand?”
“Killing me won’t change a thing. My old man’s out, and he’ll raze your little club to the ground for spilling one drop of Devil blood.”
Faster than any of them could blink, Darkness squeezed off a round, and Ryder pressed his lips together in a firm line as blood drizzled down the other man’s ear. Neither of them even flinched. Men like Devil and Darkness never flinched, much less backed down, even in the face of certain death. Ryder couldn’t shake the feeling that Abigail Fucking Andrews was at the center of the bitter discord between the two men.
Devil bit out harshly, “Blood for fucking blood it is then, you crazy motherfucker.”
Ryder watched the woman reach up and touch Darkness’ arm. His head jerked ever so slightly, and the other man melted back into the darkness. Ryder sensed several other sets of footsteps moving as well. Just when he was thinking of lowering his weapon, they heard a rifle click.
Ryder knew in an instant they were going to kill the girl. He aimed and shot in the direction of the sound, and Darkness turned and dove in front of his would-be sniper. Neither of the men turned out to be lucky. Ryder missed his shot, and Darkness caught a bullet to the back.
White-hot fury bloomed in Ryder’s chest. Stalking over, he knocked the woman out cold with his fist, so he could attend to his brother without her catching them unawares. There was some more movement in the direction of the shooter, then a rain of fire from the upper warehouse window. Dwaine could shoot better than he could talk, thank fuck, and after a moment, the roar of motorcycles told Ryder the Seven Devils had taken off.
Dwaine came running down with a first-aid kit. Coming to a skidding stop on his knees, he mumbled, “S…saw what ha…happened. Called…the…the…clubhouse.”
“Shit, shit, shit. This is bad. Are they bringing a doctor?”
Ryder asked, thinking fast. Dwaine elbowed him aside and began working on Darkness. The man actually seemed as if he knew what he was doing. “You a medic?”
“A…army.”
Nice. “Fucking fantastic,”
he praised, glad the man was there. “Is it as bad as it looks?”
“Y...yes.”
“Shit. Do your best, my friend.”
Dwaine shot him an annoyed look, and Ryder realized they weren’t exactly friends. They’d gone to school together in this small town and went their separate ways upon graduation. The thing was, Dwaine never stuttered before he left for the military. A man had to wonder what happened to trigger something like that.
Darkness groaned. Ryder dropped down on all fours to look him in the face.
“Everything’s gonna be okay, prez.”
Darkness opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out, and Ryder watched helplessly as his eyes slowly drifted closed. War was coming—he could feel it in his bones, the same way he'd felt it before every major club conflict.
But this time felt different.
This wasn't about territory or business. This was personal, carved in flesh and sealed with blood. He could only hope that Dwaine really knew what he was doing, because the Blind Jacks were going to need every brother standing for what was coming.