Ryker (Kings of Korruption MC Book 1) Read online

  An unfamiliar tightness forms in my chest when I see that it’s Charlie sitting on that bench, crying all alone in the dark. This woman has been driving me fucking insane for days. I can’t seem to get her out of my head. If I’m not thinking about her tits, or her ass, or what it would be like to be inside her, I’m thinking about something she’d said or that sexy shade of red she turns when I say something suggestive. It’s been a couple of weeks since I’ve gotten laid. I need to find some random chick, get me some and move the fuck on.

  Knowing she’s upset about something, I have the overwhelming urge to go to her and make whatever’s wrong, right. Slowly, I make my way toward her, mentally cursing myself for being so weak. I need to leave her to cry. She’s not mine to take care of. Ignoring my own advice, I approach her, unsure what to do but needing to do something. I need to know what’s wrong with her.

  Maybe I’m too quiet as I approach because I’m pretty sure I scare the shit out of her when I speak. “Charlie?” She makes a little squeak and jumps in her seat. Her head lifts in my direction, her face is cast in shadows. “You ok?”

  She quickly wipes her face with the sleeves of her long grey sweater. “Ryker! Yeah … um … I’m good. Just getting a little air.” Her voice quivers, and I can still hear the tears in her words.

  “Ah. I see.” Now what? I’m completely out of my element here. “Mind if I sit?” I gesture towards the seat on the bench beside her.

  “Oh … yeah … I was actually just heading back in anyways. My fifteen minute break is just about over.” She’s attempting to be nonchalant and act like everything’s fine, but the thought of her upset about something causes my fucking guts to churn and I want to do something … anything. As long as it makes her not cry anymore.

  Sitting on the bench, I turn my body towards her, and before I can stop myself, reach out to grasp her chin. A small gasp escapes her as I gently tilt her face to mine so I can look into her eyes. Now that I’m closer, I can see her clearly in the moonlight. The shadows dance across her face, doing nothing to hide her watery eyes and the tear stains on her rounded cheeks. “Why were you crying?”

  I hear her breath hitch and she stiffens under my fingertips. “I wasn’t crying Ryker. Like I said, I was just getting some air.” She waves her hand in the air, changing the subject. “I’d love to sit and talk, but I really do have to be getting back in.” She smiles tightly and moves to stand. I grasp her clasped hands and press them down gently, indicating for her to stay put.

  “Bullshit, Charlie.” My words are harsh but said in a whisper, hopefully not conveying anger but concern. “I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

  She gives me a sad, shy smile. “I don’t need help. I just get a little emotional sometimes.” She takes a deep breath. “One of my patients just passed away, and there are times when that makes my job a little … difficult.”

  My heart clenches in sympathy. The feeling is completely foreign. I hate that she’s hurting and don’t know what the fuck I can do to make her feel better. This woman should never cry, and I want to be the one to fix it for her. Fuck. Why can’t I just leave her alone? I shouldn’t be doing this with her.

  “Why do you do it?” I know I shouldn’t ask, but I genuinely want to know. I’d wondered more than once since Smokey had been moved to palliative care. Why would someone like her want to work in a hospital like this and be around dying people all the time?

  “Do what? My job?” I nod my head to indicate that yes – that is what I’m asking. She takes a deep breath and I hear her swallow hard. “I love my job. It gives my life purpose.”

  “I have to admit baby, I don’t understand.” Her eyes shoot to mine at the word baby. I don’t know why I called her that, but right now, I don’t care. It just came out.

  The expression on her face is vulnerable – maybe even a little unsure. “It’s a long story.”

  “I’ve got time.”

  She smiles again. “Well, unfortunately, I don’t. I really do have to get back in a few minutes. Long story short, these people are dying.” She sends me an apologetic smile. “My job is to make their final days comfortable. Allow them to tie up loose ends, laugh and cry with their loved ones. And allow them to say goodbye.”

  Her eyes fill with tears again. “Being able to do that for them … for their loved ones, it’s an honor. I don’t take it lightly. It can be hard not to get attached to some of them, and when they pass, it breaks my heart. Every time.”

  I nod. That makes sense. She’s so different from any other woman I have known. She’s sweet and kind and she cares about people - even complete strangers. She’s pure. I haven’t spent a lot of time among civilians, having spent most of my life surrounded by the club, but I know that she’s not like most women. Even civilian women. She’s in a class all of her own. It reminds me, once again, just how different we really are, and that she doesn’t fit in my world.

  A slight breeze in the air causes a stray lock to escape the mass of hair she has piled at the back of her head, only to blow across her cheek. Ito clench my fists, resisting the urge to sweep it behind her ear. She takes another deep breath, wiping her eyes with the sleeves of her sweater and smiles at me.

  If I wasn’t already sitting, I would have been knocked on my ass. Fuck me. Her beauty gets me every time. Even in the dark, her chocolate brown eyes are glistening and filled with kindness. Her dark curly hair is unruly and pulled away from her face in her trademark messy bun. “I’m sorry, Ryker.” Every time she says my name, a jolt goes right through me. This is unfamiliar territory and I’m not sure how to deal with it. “You’re here for Smokey. You don’t need to be listening to his crazy nurse crying alone in the darkness.”

  “Baby, don’t worry about that. I like hanging out in the darkness with you.” I bend forward slightly and catch her eyes with mine, giving her my most charming smile. What am I doing?

  She chuckles softly and stands. “Well, I better be getting back to my rounds. Thanks for listening, Ryker.”

  My mind racing, I just nod, toss my cigarette and watch as she turns and walks back inside. I’m not sure what to do with what I’m feeling. Charlie is unlike anyone I’ve ever encountered before and I’m drawn to her like a moth to a flame. I can’t not flirt with her – it’s impossible.

  One thing I know for certain is that she’s just too pure for someone like me. Listening to her describe her job only proves it. She’s the light and I’m the dark. My dark would eat every ounce of her beautiful light, leaving her tarnished and dimmed. It’s going to take some effort, but I need to keep my distance from now on.

  Chapter Four

  Charlotte

  My little meeting in the garden with Ryker has my head spinning. On one hand, he represents everything I’ve feared for years. Danger, criminals and instability. On the other hand, he makes me feel completely safe and that isn’t something I’ve felt in a very long time – ever really. He’s attentive and sweet. I wasn’t prepared for that.

  Over the last few days, Smokey’s had several visitors and all of them had been wearing a leather cut with the Kings emblem sewn onto the back of it. Each and every one of those men scared the crap out of me. Some of them were perfectly polite, though a couple of them had openly leered at me, but every one of them had a dangerous vibe that was all too familiar. Ryker had that vibe too, but somehow, he also intrigued me. It just doesn’t make sense.

  At eleven o’clock, finished with my shift for the day, I walk the six blocks to the small two bedroom apartment I share with my sister. It’s dark tonight, and the moon’s glow has been muted by dark clouds in the night sky. As I approach the block that my building’s on, I get the feeling that someone’s watching me. An icy shiver runs down my back, goosebumps race across my entire body and I’m completely creeped out. Looking around quickly, I hurry to my building, thankful for the security locks on the front doors.

  I dash up the stairs and when approaching my apartment I come to an abrupt halt, see
ing the door cracked open. Something isn’t right. My heart beats frantically in my chest while I fumble around my purse for the pepper spray I’d bought a few months ago. I’d gotten my sister one too, making her promise me she’d carry it at all times. She thought I was paranoid.

  I look again at the open door, trying to calm my racing thoughts. Should I call the police? Should I go in? What if someone is still in there? What if Anna is in there? What if she’s hurt? My mind races, trying to decide what the hell to do. I don’t own a cell phone and it’s late. I don’t want to bother a neighbor for their phone, only to find out that Anna is alright and that I am completely paranoid. But Anna could be in there, and she could be hurt. The longer I stand out here trying to form a complete thought, the longer she could be in danger.

  Steeling my nerves, I cautiously approach the door to what is supposed to be my safe place. I place a hand on it and slowly push it open, the hinges squeaking loudly. My heart beats a staccato rhythm in my chest as my eyes flick rapidly around the room, looking for any signs of an intruder.

  “Anna?” My voice is quiet, coming out in a squeak. I need to know if she’s home. Maybe she’d left the door open by accident. Maybe she just hadn’t latched it completely when she left. Just in case, I call out again, louder this time. “Anna? Are you in here?”

  Silence greets me. Another quick glance around the room shows that nobody’s hiding in there and nothing seems to be missing. Slowly, I go from room to room, checking for any signs of a burglar … or something worse. My bedroom is the last room to be checked. So far, my search has shown nothing wrong or suspicious, but I still open the door with caution.

  My room is my sanctuary. The furniture’s old, but well maintained, the wood stained a dark brown. A white and green ceramic vase holds a place of honor on top of my nightstand, filled with fresh flowers, which I replace every Friday. I love the smell of fresh flowers, the smell reminding me of my mother. The vase had been my mothers, and her mother’s before that. It was one of my most prized possessions.

  The double, four poster bed has a handmade quilt in white and mint green, neatly lying on the immaculately made bed. Or at least, it had been immaculate. I tend to be a bit of a neat freak. Instead of being neatly made, the bed has a clear rumpled quality on one side, in the shape of a body. A very tall body. It’s obvious that someone had been lying on my bed ... but who? My skin crawls and I have to concentrate on my breathing to avoid hyperventilating.

  Relieved that Anna’s not home, therefore hopefully not in apparent danger, I call her cell phone. It goes directly to voicemail. “Anna? Hi … um ... we have a bit of an issue here. Can you call me as soon as you get this? Thanks. Oh, and Anna? Be safe.” I know my voice is shaking, but I’m completely freaked out.

  With that said, I hang up the phone and go to the door to lock it. Maybe I’m overreacting. I tend to do that. Nobody is here, nothing seems to be missing, and it’s highly doubtful that anyone had broken in to my apartment just to sleep in my bed. Anna must have been preoccupied and just forgot to latch it. But even if that’s the case, who had lain on my bed?

  Clutching my pepper spray like a lifeline, I sit on the couch, pulling my knees up to my chest. Fear threatens to overwhelm me. Eyes on the door, I pray the next person to walk through it is my sister.

  ***

  Ryker

  I don’t know what’s worse, someone you love dying instantly or having the time to come to grips with their death, while getting a chance to say goodbye. I’ve lost people the first way, but now, with Smokey about to go out the second way, I’m not sure which is easier. I’ve been preparing myself for his death for months. All of his affairs are settled. He’s said goodbye to everybody that ever mattered to him. All that’s left is for him to just die. He’s ready. Tired of fighting to live, Smokey has accepted his fate and isn’t afraid anymore. It’s me that’s not ready. I need that fat bastard, and I’m not sure how I’ll live in a world where he doesn’t exist.

  It’s around noon when I get the call that Smoke has taken a turn for the worst. It’s time. I usually head in around three o’clock and stay with him until morning. After calling a few of our brothers, I rush to the nursing home, hoping that I’m not too late to say goodbye.

  Seeing him lying in that bed, even more withered than when I’d left that morning, sends pain and panic through my body. This is really fucking happening. What the fuck am I gonna do without Smokey?

  Ellen is the nurse on duty. We’ve met a few times before when she was on shift and I liked her. She was good to Smoke. I ignore the flash of disappointment when Charlie isn’t the one that walks through the door. I may just need a little of her light to get through this, and that thought throws me. Ellen explains that Smokey’s no longer conscious, but that he isn’t in any pain and can still hear us.

  A few of our brothers come and go, getting in one final goodbye to a good friend. I stay for all of it, and between visits I carry on a one way conversation with him. I’m only there a couple hours before his breathing is coming faster and shallower. Ellen tells me that it won’t be long now.

  It’s scary as fuck watching my buddy laying there, about to die. She gives us our privacy and I’m left alone with him once again. Placing my hand on his shoulder, I attempt to say my final goodbye, praying that he will go quickly now. I can’t bear to watch the poor bastard suffer any longer.

  “Brother, you’ve been a good fuckin’ friend.” I clear my throat to get rid of the lump that’d formed there when I’d gotten the phone call this afternoon. Damned thing seems to keep growing back every time I clear it. “You and me both know that my old man was a dick. You weren’t a dick though. You got me through a lot of rough shit. I am who I am because you gave a fuck, and for that, I thank you, man. You’ve been like a father to me. I just wanted you to know that.”

  After pouring my fucking heart out to what was left of my buddy, I just sit beside him with my hand on his forearm – waiting. Tears keep welling up in the corners of my eyes. I won’t let those fuckers fall though. I will not cry. My father taught me early in life that only fucking pussies cry, and I’m no pussy.

  After a few minutes, Smokey lets out one last rattley, deep breath and then goes silent. I can only sit there and stare at him. He’s gone. Like really fucking gone. Shaking my head, I quickly wipe away a tear that escapes from one eye. Taking a deep breath, I stand and whisper, “Goodbye, brother”. With that, I turn and walk out of the room without looking back.

  As I walk by the nurse’s station, Ellen looks up with a question on her face. I give a curt shake of my head and keep walking, right out the door. I don’t make it far. My entire body is shaking, and I feel lightheaded. There’s no way I can drive in this condition. I need to calm my nerves. I walk over and sit down on the bench Charlie had been on the other night. After lighting a smoke, I sit and think about absolutely nothing. My mind is blank. Numb.

  “Ryker?” I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here before her voice brings me back from the edge of wherever the fuck I’d just been. Charlie. A light amidst all of this darkness. “You ok?” She sounds hesitant and a little concerned.

  I look up at her just as she sits down on the bench beside me, then attempt once more to clear my throat. “I … uh …” I can’t even form a complete fucking sentence in my mind, let alone speak one.

  She nods in understanding. “It’s not easy to lose someone you love.” Her eyes fill with tears and she smiles sadly. I can tell that she’s speaking from experience. Who did Charlie lose? “Smokey seemed like a good person. I didn’t know him before he was sick, but you generally get a feel for a person when they’re at their weakest. He was a good guy. And he seemed to really love you.” She reaches out tentatively, like she’s not sure if I will bite, and gently takes my hand, giving it a squeeze before she lifts her eyes to meet mine. “I’m sorry that you lost him, Ryker.”

  I have to look away, hiding another fucking tear as it runs down my cheek. Fucking pussy. Swallowing th
at damn lump, I pull my hand free and use the heel of both hands to grind into my eyes. I lean forward and place my elbows on my knees. Burying my face in my hands, I take a deep breath. I don’t respond; I have no words.

  Charlie moves closer and places a hand on my back, rubbing in slow, soothing circles. It feels good – comforting. Just what I need. I want to curl up in a ball on her lap and have her soothe me like she did to Smokey. I want to wrap my arms around her and just hang on until all of this awful shit just goes away. Instead, I sit there and try to get a grip on my emotions.

  After a few minutes of silence, she stops rubbing my back and bends forward to look me in the eyes. I hitch my mouth up on one side in a sorry attempt at a smile. She smiles sadly back at me, then lifts her hand as if to touch my face, but pauses, eyes searching mine.

  I don’t move – I can’t. I just continue to stare into the deep brown eyes that are locked on mine. My heart loses it’s steady rhythm and pounds furiously in my chest. Slowly, her hand moves forward and gently lifts a lock of hair that’d fallen across my forehead, smoothing it back into place. The action itself is sweet, but the wave of need that washes over me is not. It’s intense. I need her right then. I need her comfort. I need her compassion. I need her joy and her laughter, but most of all, I need her love. Charlie makes me feel actually connected to another human being somehow. I’ve never felt that before, with anyone.

  The need is so strong, I forget to breathe for a few seconds. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath. I have to get a handle on myself. I’m a dude for fuck sakes. Dudes don’t get all breathless just because some chick touches their hair. They don’t feel connections with their dead buddy’s nurses and dudes, especially this dude, do not want or need that connection. Charlie doesn’t need that connection.

  Grasping her wrist, I pull her hand from my hair and place it gently but firmly in her lap, then I stand quickly and turn to look down at her. “Thanks, Charlotte. You were great to Smoke. I appreciate what you’ve done for him. You’re a good nurse.” I smile tightly at her. She stares at me and nods. Nodding back, I turn and stride over to my bike. Driving away, I see her standing there watching me, her brow furrowed in confusion. I pretend not to notice and get the fuck out of there.