Ryder (Knights Corruption MC Series Book 5) Read online

  Ryder

  Copyright © 2017 S. Nelson

  Ryder/ S.Nelson.—1st edition

  ISBN-13: 978–1546957294

  ISBN-10: 1546957294

  Editing by

  Hot Tree Editing

  Cover Design by

  CT Cover Creations

  Interior Design and Formatting by

  Christine Borgford, Type A Formatting

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the publisher’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Elmarie—I dedicate the final ride of this series to you, someone I’m honored to call a friend. I adore your enthusiasm for my stories and truly appreciate all of your wonderful feedback.

  Contents

  Ryder

  Dedication

  Prologue

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Thirty-Two

  Thirty-Three

  Thirty-Four

  Thirty-Five

  Thirty-Six

  Thirty-Seven

  Thirty-Eight

  Thirty-Nine

  Forty

  Forty-One

  Forty-Two

  Forty-Three

  Forty-Four

  Forty-Five

  Epilogue

  Note to Reader

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Other Books by S. Nelson

  My hand covered my injured cheek while my lips moved in silence, praying to be saved from the monster who’d attacked me. Again. I wished for his death, and sadly, even at the tender age of seven, there were moments I wished for my own.

  Still whispering my pleas, I finally opened my eyes. That was when I saw him standing in the doorway to my bedroom, huffing and puffing as if he’d run a hundred miles just to get to me.

  Words formed in my throat, but when I opened my mouth to plead for him to leave me alone, only silence sounded. His black eyes stared me down, the intensity enough to make me cower on my bed. With my hands clutching the superhero blanket beneath me, I closed my eyes once more and tried to escape what was going to happen next. Unfortunately I knew all too well the pain I was about to endure in the next few minutes, although it would certainly feel like hours.

  “Look at me, you little shit!” he thundered, pounding the doorframe for emphasis. When I refused, I heard him shuffle his heavy feet across the wooden planks of my bedroom floor. “What did I tell you about interrupting me and your mother?”

  I’d woken to the sound of my mom begging him to stop. I knew what was happening and, although I was terrified, I had to help her. After racing from my room, I’d flown down the steps and found her crumpled on the living room floor, clutching her belly with one hand while the other was raised in the air to try to stop his next attack, blood dripping from her nose. As I ran toward her to try and protect her, I was hit so hard I flew across the room and crashed into the far wall. I was a small kid, weighing nothing at all, especially compared to the man terrorizing us. She tried to crawl toward me, but he stepped on her back, pinning her to the ground. With defeat in her voice, she told me to go back to my room, promising that she’d be all right. I didn’t believe her but I didn’t want her to watch him hit me again, so I scrambled to my feet and ran back to my room.

  I heard him getting closer so I squeezed my eyes tighter, but my loss of sight didn’t stop my mouth from opening.

  “You’re hurting my mom,” I cried out.

  “That’s none of your business,” he spat.

  I tried my hardest not to appear scared, but I was. When I pried open my eyes, I saw him standing directly next to my bed, his hand on his belt buckle.

  “I’ll teach you not to interfere,” he slurred, his stinky breath making me sick to my stomach. He’d been drinking that brown liquid again. He took another step closer, the belt loosening and sliding through the loops of his pants. Instead of holding on to it, however, he tossed it on the foot of my bed. “You’ll learn your place in this house,” he threatened as he unzipped his pants, a stranger than normal look in his eyes as he snagged my ankle and yanked me down the bed. Without much effort, he flipped me on my belly and knelt across my lower legs to keep me from getting away. “Don’t fight me or you’ll hurt yourself.” I didn’t understand what was about to happen.

  Why wasn’t he hitting me?

  Why was I on my stomach?

  Why was he taking his pants off?

  Before I formed another silent question, I heard my mom screaming at him to get away from me. When the pressure on my legs lessened, I turned around and I saw that he had ahold of her hair, her arms swinging wildly, trying to hit him. “Don’t you touch him, you bastard,” she gasped, her breath coming in short spurts as she winced with every movement. She didn’t care that she was bleeding, that bruises were forming on her face and arms, that some of her ribs were probably bruised or broken. Her only concern was for me.

  He shoved my mother to the ground, grabbed the belt that had been tossed on my bed, knelt down next to her and wrapped it around her neck. Everything happened in slow motion and yet at a frenzied pace all at the same time. Her green eyes bulged wide, while her fingers scratched at the rough leather robbing the breath from her lungs.

  “Noooo,” I screamed as loud as I could, watching the life slowly start to drain from her face. Finding my last bit of strength, I launched off the bed and flew toward her, trying to loosen the belt, but it was useless. He was too strong.

  When all of the fight had left my mom, he let go of the belt and stumbled backward, mumbling something only he could understand before disappearing from my room.

  Burying my face in her neck, I cried harder than I ever had before, praying she would start breathing again. Hoping this was all a nightmare and I’d wake up any minute.

  But it wasn’t a nightmare.

  My mom had just been murdered, a tragedy that shaped the person I would eventually become.

  Ryder

  The muscles in my hand burned, the ache intensifying with no sign of relief. My knee was wedged into his back, holding him steady against the gravel beneath me. Rage bubbled inside me, overtaking any sense of rationality I had left, which was but a frazzled thread. Words tried to escape, but nothing passed my lips except my harsh breaths, panting like some kind of rabid animal.

  Fury.

  Revenge.

  I felt it in spades but I couldn’t move from the spot I was
frozen in. I tried so hard to exact my kind of justice, but my mind was spiraling out of control, ensnaring me deep in its tight grasp.

  “Ryder.” I heard my name as if it’d been whispered. I’d been staring into the face of the man who’d changed my world forever, but his lips never moved. “Ryder,” I heard again, that time a little louder. Before I could shout out and ask who said my name, the man I’d been pinning down vanished, as if he’d never even been there.

  All of a sudden a sharp pain radiated through my leg. “Ryder!” A female voice captured the letters of my name, shouting out in fear and anger, both emotions mixed together to form a jolt that thrust me from whatever world had dragged me under, trapped in the deepest recesses of my mind. My eyes were already open, but as my vision tunneled and then expanded, I realized that Braylen was lying on her back . . . and I was pinning her to the mattress. Her legs were spread wide and flailing, my knee wedged between them to keep them apart. I’d captured both of her arms with my large hands, trapping her so she was utterly defenseless. That was until another wave of pain shot through my calf again.

  “Fuck!” I yelled, staring down into the face of the woman who’d been sharing my bed for the past five months. Her wild blonde hair was fanned out on the pillow, the look in her eyes telling me she was gonna lay into me as soon as I fully came back into the moment.

  “Get off me,” she cried out. “You’re hurting me.” She bucked beneath me and, although she didn’t possess the physical ability to budge me, her show of strength was enough to tell me she meant business. Before I could move, however, she kicked me again, that time the heel of her foot grinding into the tensed muscle of my calf.

  “Goddamnit, Bray, stop fuckin’ kickin’ me.”

  Of course, she didn’t listen, as was evident when another surge of pain hit. Knowing she wouldn’t stop until she was released, I rolled off her and hit the mattress on my side of the bed. For as much as I wanted to massage my leg, I remained still, doing my best to catch my breath, trying to understand why I was on top of her in the first place.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” She sat up straight, scooting down the bed to put some distance between us. “I can’t deal with this much longer. Your nightmares are getting worse, this time affecting me.” It wasn’t until I saw her clutching her forearms that I tried to move closer. I glanced from her arms to her face, cursing silently when I saw the first tear fall. I reached for her, but she moved back. “Don’t touch me,” she rasped, more tears falling down her reddened cheeks.

  “I’m sorry.” It was the only thing I could think of to say, although I knew those two words weren’t enough to tell her how much I hated myself for hurting her, even though I had no idea I’d been doing it. I’d been trapped in another nightmare, helpless because I had no control when the past came to claim me.

  Several minutes passed, allowing both of us to regain some sense of calm. When she finally cast her gaze toward me again, I saw her red and puffy eyes. Her breaths were still short and choppy, but not as erratic as when I’d first released her. I hated that I’d marked her, bruised her tender flesh while in the throes of my darkness.

  “I’m sorry,” I repeated, hoping she could see from my expression that I meant it. I was used to being guarded, keeping my past from everyone around me, including all of my brothers at the club. I figured if I told anyone it would make it real. I knew how ridiculous it sounded, my reasoning beyond irrational and fucked up, but it was how I chose to deal with my mother’s death—keep it close and private. It was the only way to protect the last piece of myself.

  “Why won’t you ever tell me about your nightmares? Maybe I can help you,” she whispered, already preparing herself for the anger she knew was coming, even though I knew damn well she didn’t deserve any of it. Not that time, at least. Braylen certainly knew how to press my buttons, challenging me every single time she found an opportunity, but right then she was simply concerned.

  An attribute I both appreciated and loathed.

  Inhaling deeply, I clenched my jaw before shouting, “I told you I don’t remember my fuckin’ nightmares, so how the hell are you gonna help me?” I hopped off the bed and strode toward the bathroom, slamming the door before she could even respond. I knew she knew I was lyin’, but I didn’t want to give her a chance to call me on my bullshit.

  After a hurried shower, I walked back into my bedroom only to be greeted with an empty space. Braylen left. I wasn’t surprised, though. Not in the least. I’d been a real ass, first by bruising her, then yelling at her as if she was at fault for my fucked-upness.

  I should’ve chased after her.

  I should’ve called and attempted some sort of half-assed apology.

  I should’ve told her what haunted my dreams.

  But I couldn’t do any of it. Instead, I collapsed on top of my bed, hoping she wouldn’t curse me out too bad when I finally did contact her.

  Ryder

  Slamming back my third beer, the alcohol did nothing to soothe my nerves. It’d been two days of silence from Braylen. Normally, I’d give her the time she needed, especially since I was usually the cause of her anger. Although for some reason, this time was bothering me more than normal. Was it because what I felt toward the woman had been intensifying over the past month?

  But safety lived in silence and denial. It was how I’d survived this long, and I refused to change because of a woman.

  Trying to push aside all thoughts of Braylen Prescott, I focused on gettin’ piss drunk and passing out. And since Trigger refused to serve me hard liquor, knowing damn well what happened when that stuff coursed through my veins, I had to drink what he offered—beer. But as long as it did the trick, I wouldn’t complain. Not too much, anyway.

  “You’re unusually ornery tonight,” Trigger acknowledged. “What’s up your ass?” Slinging a towel over his shoulder, he went about cleaning up behind the bar. Trigger was the club’s resident bartender, lending an ear to those who needed it and givin’ shit to those who deserved it. Apparently I was the latter. Tucking strands of his graying hair that had come loose from his ponytail behind his ear, he locked eyes with me and waited for me to engage.

  “Ornery? Since when did you start breakin’ out the big words?” I swallowed the rest of my drink, tapping the bar to indicate another. “Did you get one of those ‘word a day’ calendars? Deciding to test out your fake smarts on the likes of us?” My laugh was humorless. Giving someone else a hard time helped to take the attention off myself.

  “Just because your dumb ass has a limited vocabulary doesn’t mean we all do,” he retorted, sliding a fresh glass my way.

  I never let on that I was a smarty in school. High honors and all that good stuff. School came easily to me, numbers and theories the easiest. It was how I was able to help invest a lot of the club’s earnings years back, setting us all up for life with the returns.

  “Whatever.” Focusing on losing myself to the suds in front of me, I zoned out and thought of nothing except becoming sloshed enough to barely keep my head up. But I should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy, not planting my ass on a barstool at the club. When I’d arrived earlier, only Trigger was present, the rest of the guys out taking care of what they needed to before gathering back together.

  Most days I loved the company, even though I was more on the quiet side, sittin’ back and takin’ it all in. But right then, I wanted nothing more than to be left alone. Those hopes were dashed as I heard Breck, Cutter, Jagger and Tripp stride through the entrance.

  “Holy shit!” Tripp shouted. “What brings you here, stranger?” The nomad of the club strolled toward me, clasping me on the shoulder once he closed in on me. “Where the hell you been?”

  “I was just here the other day,” I gritted, keeping my simmering temper in check.

  “Last week,” Cutter said as he walked toward the kitchen. If I thought I was a quiet one, Cutter had me beat, usually only speaking when he wanted to call people out on their bullshit.
r />   “He’s too busy wrapped up in Braylen’s pussy,” Breck taunted, taking the seat next to me. Does he have some sort of death wish? “Tell us, Ryder, does she have a magic cunt?” He laughed, but it was cut short when I jumped up and hauled him off his chair by the scruff of his neck. There was a quick flash of fear in his eyes, but it was gone seconds after glancing at my drink of choice. Had I been drinking hard liquor, he probably would’ve pissed himself because he knew what I was capable of when it passed my lips. They all did. They’d seen it. Hell, they’d had to beat and restrain me to get me to calm the fuck down. Or pass out. Whichever came first.

  “What?” Breck laughed. He was the complete opposite of his father. His unkempt shoulder-length brown hair and beard were way past due for a trimming. The biggest difference, however, was his ability to spout off at the mouth and irritate the fuck out of most of us because he never knew when to shut up. “It’s an honest question. We all wanna know.” He brought his drink to his lips even as I held him tightly in my grasp, spilling the contents down his front when I shoved him away from me. “Fuck,” he mumbled, wiping the dots of beer off his cut.

  After chugging down the rest of my beer, I attempted to leave but Tripp stopped me, stepping in front of me and arching a brow. “You good?” Two simple words. Too bad he had no idea how complicated his question really was.

  “Yup.”

  “Good, ’cause you’re up tonight.”

  “For what?” I racked my brain to try and figure out what he was talkin’ about, but I came up short.

  “Jagger’s fight. It’s you and me, brother.” A slight smile curved up the corners of Tripp’s mouth, trying his best to lighten my darkened mood. The nomad knew I had secrets, a mistakenly shared word here and there during our convos, but he had no idea what I’d been through before becoming a part of the club. None of them did, and that was how I wanted to keep it. I didn’t need anyone’s sympathy or pity. That would only make it worse.

  “Fine,” I agreed, sidestepping his large frame. “Send me the time and location,” I shouted over my shoulder as I approached the door to leave.