Ryker: Dead Souls MC: Prospects #4 Read online

  “What about your mom?” I asked.

  Ariel slowly lifted her head. “Huh?”

  “You talk about Dad a lot. But, what about Mom?”

  “What about her?”

  “I don’t know. Do you miss her, too?”

  “I wouldn't know. I’ve never met her.”

  Oh. “I’m sorry, Ariel.”

  She shrugged. “You didn’t know.”

  “Well, now I do.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So, tell me something else about yourself.”

  “Huh?”

  I giggled. “Still not awake?”

  She yawned. “No.”

  “Well, think about something you want to tell me about yourself, and I’ll do the same. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  I scooped us up some eggs and sausage. I buttered some toast and grabbed each of us something to drink. I sat everything down on the table as Ariel slowly became more alert. Then, she started the conversation.

  “When I was three, Daddy said I poured chocolate all over the couch and fell asleep in it.”

  I giggled. “Must’ve been some good chocolate.”

  She grinned. “Is there any bad chocolate?”

  “Ah, a chocoholic over here. Good to know.”

  “Your turn,” she said.

  “Yep. My turn. Okay, let’s see. Oh! When I was a kid—maybe six or seven—tried caramel for the first time. And after I tried it, I started tipping up the bottle and squeezing it right into my mouth.”

  “Caramel’s yuck.”

  My jaw dropped. “You don’t like caramel?”

  She smiled. “Chocolate is supreme!”

  And when she thrust her fork into the air, I laughed out loud.

  “Well, looks like I’ll just have to change your mind,” I said.

  “Good luck.”

  “All right, tell me something else about yourself.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  I shrugged. “Anything you’re comfortable telling me. It could be something about your father, too. If you’re ready to talk about him.”

  “Why do you always want me to talk about my Daddy?”

  “I don't know. I guess because I notice you don’t talk about him a lot. And I’m wondering if you don’t talk about him for the same reason I don’t talk about mine.”

  She paused. “Why don’t you talk about yours?”

  I sighed. “My Dad wasn’t so nice. A lot of people know him, but not for good reasons. So, I don’t talk about him because I don’t like to be associated with him. I don’t like people judging me for his actions.”

  “Daddy says a child shouldn't be looked at like that because of what their parents do. Because they aren’t their parents.”

  “Well, then I learned something about your father.”

  “Huh?”

  I smiled. “I just learned your father is a very wise man.”

  “What’s ‘wise?’”

  “It’s when someone has knowledge or advice to pass down because of experiences in their life.”

  “Yep. That’s Daddy.”

  “So, I believe it’s your turn again.”

  We went back and forth like that over breakfast. And I learned the cutest little tidbits about this girl. Like, the time she first fell out of a tree, and when her father rushed out with tears in his eyes to care for her. Or the time her father made her a knotted rope climb for that same tree in order to help her conquer her fear of something that hurt her. She told me about all the times her father read her a bedtime story. Even called, whenever he worked nights. She talked about how her favorite story was Goodnight Moon, and how she’d get so excited whenever her father would call while he was working night shifts and recite the book to her as her bedtime story.

  He sounded like the greatest father on the planet.

  I wish I’d had a father like that.

  We cleared our plates, then made our way into the living room. I turned on Netflix, scrolling to a show Ariel wanted to watch. Something about orphans and strange things that happened to them, or something like that.

  I kind of recognized the main character.

  “That’s Neil Patrick Harris. He’s awesome,” Ariel said.

  I paused. “Are you reading my mind?”

  She giggled. “No. You just look really confused.”

  “That obvious?”

  “Your nose wrinkles up when you’re confused.”

  “Good to know the next time I need to cover it up.”

  I tickled Ariel, and she fell apart in laughter. She gripped her stomach and tried wiggling away, but I wrapped my arm around her. I smiled as her sounds filled the room. So sweet. So innocent. So full of life. I remembered sounding like that once. When I was younger. Back when I didn’t understand the kind of darkness this world was filled with.

  “Stop! I can’t breathe! Miss Kaylynn!”

  I stopped tickling her and she collapsed against the couch. And when I scooped her into my arms, she curled into me. I played the television show in the background again, watching as she inched closer against my body. Her head fell to my shoulder. Her legs curled up to her chest. And she rested against me. Panting. Sighing. Her eyes, already fluttering closed even though it wasn’t quite lunch time yet.

  How long have we been watching television?

  Those soft snores filled the space around us again and I reached for a blanket. I wrapped it around us, then laid down on the couch to take a nap myself. I stroked my fingers through her hair as the television became background noise. My own eyes fluttered closed as Ariel napped on top of me.

  And as I drifted off to sleep, Ryker popped into my mind.

  I saw his eyes first. Those piercing eyes as he sat down with us. Those rugged good looks. Broad shoulders accented with muscles pulled taut over his frame. His uneven, sun-kissed skin. It looked like the softest leather I could ever place my lips against. His lips. My eyes fell to his lips. Those barely-there lips that curled into the cheekiest of grins every time he looked at me. I dreamt about sliding my hand against his knee. Slipping my hand into his. The soup shop fell away, and Ariel ran off into the distance. Leaving Ryker and myself alone. In the black expanse of nothingness as the rest of the world fell away.

  “Hello, Kaylynn.”

  In my mind, we danced. He held me close, his hand slipping lower against my back. In my dreams, I nuzzled him. Planting a soft kiss against his stubbled jawline. In the darkness of the world around us, we swayed side to side. His arm, cradling me. His hand, holding mine. His lips, falling against my ear as he whispered sweet nothings into them.

  “You look beautiful tonight.”

  “I could hold you like this forever.”

  “You smell so sweet.”

  We danced and swayed. My nose softly tickled the skin of his cheek. He grinned down at me, those barely-there lips curling up the way they did whenever he looked my way. And just as our faces approached one another’s, I felt something move. Something stir.

  Before Ariel pushed off my body and woke me from my dream.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

  I groaned, my eyes slowly opening. “It’s okay.”

  “No, no. I just—I’m sorry.”

  I furrowed my brow. “I promise, it’s fine. I got tired, too.”

  “I’m gonna go.”

  Before I could even process what had happened, Ariel slid off the couch. Well, practically rolled off it. But still. I opened my eyes long enough to watch her bolt up the stairs, rushing to her room before the door slammed. I sighed as I fell back to the couch. I looked over at the television and saw Netflix asking me a question.

  “Are you still watching A Series of Unfortunate Events?”

  I rolled my eyes. “My life is a series of unfortunate events.”

  I laid back down, staring at the ceiling as my hand rooted around for the remote control. And when I found it, the Roku got turned off. I closed my eyes and laid there, wondering what the hell could have h
appened to Ariel. I knew better than to follow her. She was obviously upset about something. And the best way to deal with a girl like her who was upset was to leave her alone until she cooled down.

  But that didn’t mean I couldn't take her something.

  I rolled off the couch myself and stood from the floor. I walked into the kitchen, shuffling around for a pen and a piece of paper. I scrawled a quick note for her before folding it in half. Then, I walked it upstairs. I slipped the piece of paper under her door, hoping it made her feel better. Hoping the words I’d written down helped calm her raging soul just a tad.

  And as I walked back down the stairs, my mind fell back to Ryker.

  It’d been pretty silent on that front. And by silent, I mean I hadn’t heard from him at all. I wondered why he hadn’t contacted me yet. Why he hadn’t reached out or anything of the sort. I didn’t know how this dating thing worked without my parents. When I was younger, Dad simply set me up on dinners. They told me where I needed to be and when, then the maid helped me dress. That was it, as far as dating went. Once I got older, I shut down that part of my life. And after Dad died, I didn’t even entertain the idea. For one, I didn’t want to show people my scars. And becoming intimate with a man meant revealing to him the rippling scars down my back.

  And for another, I simply wasn’t interested.

  Until Ryker.

  In a fit of desperation, I picked up my phone. I pulled up an internet tab and started looking up things like “the rules of dating” and “dating for men.” Maybe there was something I didn't know about. Some sort of waiting period or tactic Ryker used that I needed to be aware of. I came across something called a “three-day rule,” and after I read it, my heart both sank and fluttered.

  Men waited three days before contacting a woman?

  It seemed absurd. If the man wanted to speak with someone, why didn’t he simply man up and call her? I guess I understood the whole “not looking desperate” thing. But it still seemed weird. Trite. Overdone, really. Still, it might explain why he hadn’t contacted me yet.

  The bad news was that I still had two more days to go.

  Why can’t I stop thinking about this guy?

  I ached for him, even though I hardly knew him. I wanted him, even though I didn’t know a damn thing about him. Was this what love felt like? Or possibly lust? I didn’t understand what either felt like. From an adult’s perspective, at least. If Mom knew I wasn’t a virgin and still not married, she’d have a fucking cow’s fit. My one moment of rebellion as a teenager had been giving my virginity away to some guy in high school as a “fuck you” to the rules and regulations Dad always held over my head.

  A lady never does this. A lady never does that. A lady does as she’s told, and a lady supports her man.

  Blah, blah, blah.

  I tried finding things to do around the house. Anything to keep myself occupied while Ariel slept. But around hour three, I went to check on her. The bright afternoon sun streamed through the windows, yet Ariel was fast asleep. So, against my better judgment, I decided to let her sleep.

  And sleep.

  And sleep.

  And sleep some more.

  By the time dinner time rolled around, I grew worried about her. I went and checked on her again, pushing my appetite off to the side. I walked into her now-darkened bedroom and placed my hand against her forehead. She didn’t feel hot. She wasn’t sweating, either. So, she wasn’t sick. Had she not slept well last night? Was she homesick?

  I rubbed my hand softly against her back, but she didn’t move.

  Let the poor girl sleep.

  I bent down and kissed the side of her head. Then, I left her be. If she was that tired, she obviously needed her rest. Maybe she was growing or something. Did kids sleep that much while growing? I picked up my phone as I made my way downstairs, deciding to do some searching around on nine-year-old girls. My fingers typed away on my phone, trying to look up as much information as I could that might help me in my endeavor to take care of this girl while shrouding her from the world.

  Then, a crawling sensation crept down my spine.

  Something felt… off. And I knew what that meant. I slowly walked over to the living room windows, making my way to the side of it. I slipped the curtain over, peeking through the blinds to see who the fuck was watching this house. And instead of finding a black SUV of some sort, I found a motorcycle.

  With a man straddling it.

  Staring straight into my eyes as he put down his kickstand and slipped off the seat.

  11

  Ryker

  “He was what now?” I asked.

  Diesel sighed. “There, for a couple months, Alex Petrov attempted to pledge the Dead Souls.”

  “What happened to him? Why didn’t he make it?” Bear asked.

  I still reeled from the shock of the news, though.

  “He botched a mission we were running at the time because of conflicting interests with his father’s own missions. He intentionally tanked it, we lost out on tens of thousands of dollars’ worth of merchandise when we were peddling it there for a bit, so he was let go,” Knox said.

  I shook my head. “Fucking—you talk about us holding back shit. But seriously?”

  “Hey, that hasn’t been relevant at all until now. You saw what was happening with our families and you still didn't come clean with yours,” Grave said.

  I sneered at him. “You think it’s my fault Ariel’s in this situation?”

  “All right. Settle down. I’ve had enough of this shit,” Diesel said.

  My eyes whipped over to Rock. “What’s the address of this woman?”

  He shook his head. “I’m not giving you that. I’ve got no guarantee you won’t go storming into that house.”

  “And if I do?”

  Diesel glared at me. “You won’t, because we need a plan in place.”

  “There’s nothing in this woman’s background that suggests she actually works with Lars and his men,” Rock said.

  “Except for the fact that she has my fucking daughter!” I roared.

  Rock stood up. “I’m not giving you shit until you promise me, you’re going nowhere near that house.”

  “I wouldn't give him shit at all, if I were you,” Brewer murmured.

  I drew in a deep breath and I saw the flicker of something behind Rock’s eyes. Just enough of a glimmer for me to see the bone he was tossing me. I sucked my anger down as much as I could, settling myself back onto my feet. And with a nod of my head, I sighed.

  “I get it. We have to go at this as a team. Like we’ve done in the past,” I said.

  “Yes. It’s the only way to protect all of our families and preserve yours,” Rock said.

  “Can I at least have the address to give myself a peace of mind? I can look it up on Google Maps and see my daughter’s not in some shithole?” I asked.

  “I’m sure Rock doesn’t mind doing that,” Diesel said.

  “With all due respect, I’d like to do it myself. I just willingly left my little girl behind with that woman. I’d like to have at least some semblance of control in this situation.”

  Saint sighed. “Give the poor man the address. Give him peace any way he can get it.”

  I knew Diesel didn’t agree, but Rock wrote down the address. I slipped it into my back pocket as the guys started talking over one another. Trying to figure out our next move. But Rock? He simply nodded his head with a grin across his cheeks. He knew. He knew what I was about to do. And as his head nodded softly down the hallway behind him, I cleared my throat.

  “Gotta piss, you guys. Be right back,” I said.

  Diesel waved me off, then continued brainstorming with the rest of the guys. And me? Well, I backtracked down the hallway before sneaking around in the dark. Making my way for that side porch door. Probably the worst fucking place to put a door in a clubhouse like this one. But it worked in my favor. I slipped away from the arguing crew and raced for my bike. Ready to get to this fucking address
.

  Ready to keep a watchful eye on my little girl.

  I walked my bike down the road before I struck it up. I didn’t want it startling the guys and having them come after me. Did they really think I’d sit back and let some random woman connected to the fucking mafia take care of my little girl? Fucking not. The only reason why I didn’t take Ariel from her in that soup shop was because I hadn’t been armed.

  And I wouldn't make that mistake this time.

  With two guns on either side of my body and one against my ankle, I raced off into town. At a stoplight, I slipped the piece of paper out and took note of the address. I punched the damn thing into my phone, pulling up a map before mounting my phone to my bike. I followed where it told me to go. Then, I found myself shell-shocked as I made my way into a neighborhood filled with massive homes.

  I mean, they were massive for me. Easily three times that of the clubhouse. So, around five thousand square feet a piece? Perfectly manicured lawns. Enough space between the houses for the neighbors not to disturb one another. Two-and-three story homes that backed up to forestry I didn’t think existed in the city of Redding.

  I drove up and down the streets of that neighborhood to make sure I didn’t spot anything off.

  If the mafia was watching the house, the last thing I wanted was to park my ass outside of it and be a sitting duck. That’d put me at risk as well as my kid. And that shit wasn’t happening. However, I didn’t see anything off. No black SUVs sitting around. No one in the trees, watching from tree-stands with scopes or shit like that. I even checked the slits for the sewers to see if anyone had perched themselves in there. And there was no one.

  So, I parked my bike in front of the house.

  It was a gorgeous house. I mean, the most rundown of the houses on the block. Kind of tucked away off the road a bit. Definitely shrouded by trees at any given moment. But still a nice house. With a bit of elbow grease and pressure-washing, the place would shine like the rest of the houses on the block.