Cage: Dead Souls MC #6 Read online

  Cage

  Dead Souls MC #6

  Savannah Rylan

  Copyright © 2019 by Savannah Rylan

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  1. Cage

  2. Sutton

  3. Cage

  4. Sutton

  5. Cage

  6. Sutton

  7. Cage

  8. Sutton

  9. Cage

  10. Sutton

  11. Cage

  12. Sutton

  13. Cage

  14. Sutton

  15. Cage

  16. Sutton

  17. Cage

  18. Sutton

  19. Cage

  20. Sutton

  21. Cage

  22. Sutton

  23. Cage

  24. Sutton

  Want to know what happens next?

  About the Author

  More Books by Savannah Rylan

  1

  Cage

  The smell of smoke and black powder residue hung in the air. Those fucking bullets whizzed by my head as I looked around for my father. I heard him screaming. Calling out for his men. And while I was a new prospect for the Night Outlaws, I had no idea my father would get me into this kind of shit. Some shootout between us and some asshole mobster who didn’t like the fact that we encroached on his turf.

  Then again, my father did warn me.

  “Scar! Lannie! Go left! I’m comin’ ‘round the back. Cage!”

  “Yeah, Pops!?” I exclaimed.

  “We need a distraction,” my father said.

  I rolled my eyes and leaned my head against the brick of the building. Of course, he needed a fucking distraction. All I did nowadays was distract. Grunt work. Sure, I was a fucking prospect. The newest guy of the group. That didn’t mean I had to push around paper and fetch their fucking coffee. Bunch of prissy assholes, if anyone asked me about it. My father included.

  And lately, my father had been on edge.

  “On my count!” my father roared.

  I looked over at him as bullets continued to pepper the air.

  “I see you!” Lars roared.

  “One!” my father exclaimed.

  Another round of bullets surged down the alleyway as Lars’ footsteps came closer.

  “Two!” my father roared.

  “I’m coming for you, Cage!” Lars exclaimed.

  My father stopped counting as his eyes widened, and I froze. Fuck. Did Lars know? Was that why he was shooting at us? Trying to gun us down?

  To get to me?

  “Anyone gonna say three?” Lars asked, chuckling.

  And the second I heard the click of his empty magazine; I rounded the corner.

  “Lars! Stop!” my father exclaimed.

  But my gun was already in the air.

  My vision tunneled and all I could see was Lars. The scar that ran down his face. That salt-and-pepper blonde hair that looked absolutely horrendous on a man that had acne scars in his fifties. His tailored suit was covered in the blood of his men. Men that died in vain without anyone having known their names. That was what happened when people got tangled up with someone like Lars Norden. They died without identity. Without grace. Without honor, in my eyes.

  Because some asshole that skimmed casinos and trafficked humans didn’t deserve to live.

  I aimed the gun down at his feet and made him dance. I shot at those shiny leather shoes as my father cried out in the background. They were falling back, trying to navigate the alleyways of the casinos we’d become so familiar with. Lars jumped, and every time he did, his eyes ignited with fire. He stumbled with his magazines as I pulled my other gun, taking his men out by their knees.

  I didn’t want to kill the nameless faces. But I sure as hell didn’t want them charging me, either.

  “You’re a dead man,” Lars growled.

  I was close enough to hear his words. To smell his threat. I slowly walked toward him, blocking his view of the Night Outlaws as my father scrambled to try and get them in place. Lars thought he had blocked us in, especially because we were such a small crew. But being small meant we could get into places without being noticed. Because no one knew our faces. We hadn’t been operating long enough for the police to sink their detective-like jowls into us.

  And we knew the sewer system well.

  I heard the scraping of the grates as I continued dodging bullets. I kept my eyes locked on Lars and my ears trained on the men around them. I pressed the button on my guns to release the magazines, then slammed them down into ones poking out at my sides. And the second I cocked my gun, more iron buzzed through the air. I felt the wind of the bullets that missed me. I felt the eyes of the men taking me in. Every cell, every detail. Committing all of it to memory.

  And putting her in even more danger.

  One by one, Lars’ men dropped to their knees. Blood splattered against walls and men gurgled on the alleyway water in puddles that had yet to dry from storms that rolled through weeks ago. Lars’ eyes connected with me, and I knew something was wrong the second he smiled at me. His gleaming white teeth dripped with venom that paused me in my tracks. And as his men knelt beside him, crying out in horror as I took out their kneecaps, I clicked my magazines out and jammed them into my sides.

  Taking up the last gun magazines I had on my hips.

  “It’s interesting, you know,” Lars said.

  I paused. “What is?”

  “The fact that you think you can win.”

  “Looks like you don’t have any more reinforcements,” I said.

  I pointed both of my guns at his face, but all he did was chuckle.

  “Did you really think I’d let your grimy little crew get their hands on my casinos?” Lars asked.

  “No clue what you’re talking about,” I said, grinning.

  And when Lars holstered his gun, my heart leapt in my chest. I was missing something. We all were. But I tried my best not to give away positions. I did my best not to look up on the rooftops at my father. At my brothers. At the men I’d come quickly to revere as family.

  “Did you really think your father could leave my side and do his own thing?” Lars asked.

  I paused. “What?”

  He chuckled. “Really? You know nothing of your childhood, do you?”

  “I know plenty.”

  “Including how your mother died?”

  I flinched. “Don’t you dare talk about my fucking mother.”

  “She was a beautiful woman, you know. Strong. Effervescent. The second I laid eyes on her… mm. Beauty wrapped up in silk.”

  I took a step toward Lars, daring him with my eyes to say one more thing about my fucking mother.

  “In the grand scheme of things, I hate that she had to go. Your father isn’t one for sharing. Even when it justifies the life of his family,” Lars said.

  “You—my mother died in an airplane crash,” I said.

  “Oh, I know. I rigged the plane.”

  My body teetered on its feet as the guns wavered in my hands.

  “What?” I asked breathlessly.

  “Oh, come on. That was two decades ago. Your father is a hard man to trace. Wasn’t really a fan of what I did once he found out. I guess he thought he could leave and do his own thing. Use my own codes and rules against me.”

  “My father… worked for you?”

  “You really should do better at keeping up,” Lars said, grinning.

  My mind spun as I grew sic
k to my stomach. Weak in my knees. My hearing spiraled as sounds sizzled and popped for no good reason. My heart fluttered wildly in my chest as images of my mother bombarded my mind. Her long blonde hair. Those big green eyes that sang me to sleep every night. I could still feel her cool hand against my head with every fever that raged. I could still feel her soft breast against my forehead with every cradle she afforded me.

  “Mom,” I whispered.

  “Such a lost little boy, and yet your father is the one that’s kept you in the dark all this time. If he simply would have stayed at my side like a good little boy, maybe your mother would be alive today. Who knows, really,” Lars said.

  “But you said—”

  “Ah, I wanted your mother. Sure. Though, she said ‘no’ on many occasions. It’s a word I find most women don’t believe themselves once they feel the touch of a real man. I figured beating the shit out of your father was recompense enough for not turning her over when I asked for her. But it was him leaving that triggered her death,” he said.

  “You killed my mother,” I growled.

  I shoved the barrel of the gun all the way into the man’s head. Though, his laughter was unnerving. His smile didn’t reach his eyes. They were dead. Cold. Black as night, with no remorse for the words falling from his lips.

  “It’s funny. I would have thought you would have looked up by now. You know, to figure out where your guys are,” Lars said.

  My hand trembled as my eyes slowly gazed up to the buildings my father commanded them to be on. And what I saw was forever etched into my memory.

  All three of my father’s men dangled over the sides. Dripping with blood, their eyes wide. Dead. Every prospect my father had ever brought on before I finally persuaded him to let me join the Night Outlaws. Scar, Lannie, and Brutus. I watched Lars’ men dangle them over the edge before dropping their bodies, their throats slit as they crumbled all around me. It literally rained down men, and when their bones dropped to the ground? The resounding crack forced bile up the back of my fucking throat.

  “Now, for that father of yours,” Lars sneered.

  My father struggled as two men brought him up behind me. I whipped around, my guns slowly falling down to my sides as I watched them drag him all the way up to me. Two massive men I didn’t recognize, shrouded in black with the deadest stare in their eyes. My father’s eyes ignited with fire behind the swelling. The ligature marks around his neck made me itch and lust for blood. I’d slaughter them. I’d kill them all before demanding answers from my father.

  The two men kicked my father’s legs out from underneath me, kneeling him at my feet.

  “Lars,” my father grunted.

  “Hello, Patch,” Lars said. “I was just filling your son in on his childhood. Care to weigh in at all?”

  My father’s eyes gravitated toward me, and that fire melted into sorrow. There was regret. Guilt. Anger. Sadness. An overwhelming sense of sadness that made my chest clench so tightly I thought it would cave in my sternum.

  “Is it true?” I asked.

  “Kill him, Cage,” my father said.

  I slowly looked over at Lars before I glanced back down at my father.

  “Did you really work for this man? Did he really kill Mom?” I asked.

  “Cage!” my father roared.

  “Answer the questions!” I exclaimed.

  Lars laughed, and I stuck my gun back in his face.

  “Shut up, or I’ll do as he asks,” I said.

  The mafioso held up his hands before my eyes fell back down to my father on his knees.

  “Is he telling the truth?” I asked.

  And when my father nodded, my entire world spiraled into an endless abyss.

  “What else aren’t you telling me?” I glowered.

  “Oh, I really should have some popcorn,” Lars said.

  “Silence!” I bellowed.

  “Like father like son, I suppose. Unable to follow orders and very willing to turn on those that provide him with life. Such a shame, really. I was hoping to recruit you,” Lars said.

  And before I could react, a gunshot rang out beside my ear.

  My father grunted as I pointed both of my guns at Lars. I took out his knees before pumping his stomach full of lead. I turned on the two men charging me from behind, putting one bullet in each of their heads. Direct shots before they dropped to the ground around us. Like they had dropped all three of my brothers.

  “Fall back. Fall back now,” Lars said breathlessly.

  And as the madman scrambled away, I fell to my knees beside my bleeding father.

  “Dad,” I whispered.

  “Son. Come… come here,” he choked out.

  I slid my arms underneath his and pulled him into the shadows. Away from the bodies and the tires that squealed to get away. Sirens sounded off in the distance. The glaring lights of the city cast glistening glares on the tears sliding down my cheeks. My father was bleeding quickly out of his stomach. Coughing up blood that sputtered in the air in front of him. He was dying. He knew it, and I knew it. And as I wrapped my arms around him, pressing down on the wound, his head fell against my shoulder.

  “You have to run,” he whispered.

  “I’m not leaving you,” I murmured.

  “The crew is done. There’s nothing for—for you.”

  He coughed, and the sound of him struggling to breathe pulled more tears down my cheeks.

  “Don’t cry. Don’t do it. Just—just listen,” he said.

  “Save your energy. I’m going to get you help,” I said.

  But as I stood to go, my father reached for my shirt. Tugged me back down with all his strength.

  “Find… your brother,” my father sputtered.

  I furrowed my brow. “My what?”

  “I’m sorry. Forgive me. For everything. But find your brother. Find him.”

  “I don’t have a brother, Dad.”

  “You do.”

  “What?” I asked.

  He coughed again as I wrapped my arms around him, holding him close to my chest. Pressing his ear against my heartbeat, like Mom used to always do for me.

  Like she used to do for both of us.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, son. Find him. Find Diesel,” he whispered.

  “Who is Diesel?” I asked.

  And as the sirens grew closer, my father’s last words forever etched themselves into my memory.

  “He’s the president of the Dead Souls.”

  2

  Sutton

  “There’s my princess,” my father said.

  “Hey there, Daddy. How was work?” I asked.

  “Oh, don’t you worry about that, princess. It went as well as it could have. Though, I regret to inform you I might have to go back out tonight.”

  “Ah, well. That just means I can eat pizza again.”

  “For the third night in a row?” he asked.

  I giggled. “You know it’s my favorite food. Especially when slathered with vegetables on top.”

  “How did I luck up with such a wonderful daughter?”

  “I don’t know. You don’t deserve it, but that’s none of my business,” I said, grinning.

  My father walked over and wrapped me up in a hug, kissing me on the top of my head. No matter how old I got, he always did it. And I knew he always would. I was his princess. His spoiled little mafia princess. He smelled of gunpowder and blood. Which meant he must’ve had a very interesting meeting with some people. I wasn’t an idiot. I knew exactly who my father was. Exactly what his name did to people’s knees on the streets. Lars Norden, the notorious casino skimmer with his name plastered all over leases and ownership of some of the finest casinos in this damn city.

  But I simply called him Daddy.

  “Save me a couple slices?” he asked.

  “Always, Daddy. I think I’m gonna make it a movie night anyway,” I said.

  “Let me guess. The Expendables again?”

  “They do so well with the explosions. And, c
ome on. Chuck Norris is in one of the movies. Chuck. Norris, Daddy.”

  “Maybe one day I’ll just have to track down that man and drop him at the doorstep for your birthday one of these days.”

  “I mean, I’ve already met Sylvester Stallone,” I said, smiling.

  “Only the best for my princess.”

  “I love you, Daddy.”

  “I love you too, sweetheart.”

  He kissed me on my forehead before letting me go. And as I watched him walk by me, I looked down at his hips. There were blood stains. Red splotches he missed that were soaking into the silken fabric of his suit. I rolled my eyes and made my way up the stairs of the massive mansion I’d grown up in all my life. The place felt more like a prison sometimes than a home. And I always knew when my father had fucked up at his job. Guards would appear at all of the doors and I’d suddenly come downstairs to one of those brute assholes making coffee in the kitchen.

  My father, the casino mafioso. Just another day in my world.

  But I was happy to play the ignorant little daughter if it got me all the treasures this planet had to offer.

  I slipped into my bedroom and closed the door. Then, I went over and unlocked my window. My private suite had its own decked out bathroom and a balcony. The only place in the house that didn’t have a recording camera slapped onto it. I begged my father for the privacy. Told him I couldn't feel comfortable knowing his security men were gazing at me in my nightgowns as I sat out on my balcony at night. It took some buttering up. A bit of batting my eyelashes. But I was able to get him to give me the privacy of that balcony. Which meant I got to see Cage a lot.

  I closed my eyes and conjured him as I sat down in my lounge chair on my balcony. Remembering the taste of his lips the first time we kissed. My fingers gravitated toward my mouth, dancing along the searing hot that always permeated them whenever I thought of that man. Oh, I was taken with him the first time I saw him. Strolling into one of my father’s casinos, wanting in on a game he was hosting. That leather jacket pulled over his broad shoulders made my pussy weep with want. His tight white shirt showcased every ring of his abs and the swell of his decadent chest. That etched blonde hair of his had been faded up the sides with a nice little mohawk to run my fingers through. Those steel gray eyes reminded me of the brooding strength he had underneath his dark wash jeans that were practically painted on.