Ryker (Kings of Korruption MC Book 1)
Read Ryker (Kings of Korruption MC Book 1) Online
Authors: Geri Glenn
Ryker A Kings of Korruption MC Novel
Ryker
A Kings of Korruption MC Novel
Book One
By
Geri Glenn
Ryker
©Geri Glenn, 2015
Ryker is a work of fiction.
All characters, organizations and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.
This ebook is licensed for the personal enjoyment of the reader.
It is the copyrighted property of the author and may not be reproduced, copied or distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my daughters, Avery and Maryn.
Even though you are still far too young to read it, this book is for you.
You were there for every struggle and watched me pour every bit of myself into this project.
Let it show you that there’s no limit to what you can achieve, as long as you’re willing to put forth the effort.
Don’t ever let anything stand between you and your dreams.
Love you girls
xoxoxo
Chapter One
Charlotte
“There isn’t much new to report since you were in yesterday.
There's a new patient in room 239.
He just got here this morning, and he likely won't be with us long.
His file’s there for you to read over. Fifty-eight year old man in the end stages of lung cancer.”
I look up at Ellen as she finishes her shift change report.
I've only been working at the nursing home for about a month now, and have settled right into their palliative care ward.
The home itself is clean and basic; not at all fancy.
This is not a home for rich people.
Someone had once made an attempt to make it homier, but that attempt was an epic fail.
It still looks drab and institutional.
The corridors are long, with beige walls and dull, beige tile flooring.
Depressing, really. There are paintings along the walls and fake potted plants dotting different areas of the floor. The air inside smells of disinfectant and cheap lemon cleaner.
The staff here are nice though, and the job itself is exactly what I’ve been looking for.
There's something rewarding about making the last few days of someone’s life more comfortable for everyone involved.
Nodding, I pick up the file she's talking about, and flip through the pages.
Harold Harvey, fifty eight years old, stage four lung cancer.
He’s still so young.
I'm looking it all over and familiarizing myself with his plan of care when Ellen speaks again.
“There’s one other thing.”
I glance up from the file.
“What's that?”
She leans toward me and lowers her voice to a whisper.
“He's a member of a biker gang.”
My back stiffens with a jolt of fear.
“Ever hear of the Kings of Korruption?”
I shake my head while a ball of dread forms in my stomach.
Bikers?
This is
not
good news.
My sister had been involved with a biker gang just before we moved here.
It was
why
we’d moved in the first place – so she could break ties with them.
They scare the shit out of me.
The good news is, the gang I'd helped my sister run from was
not
the Kings of Korruption.
“They're a pretty big gang.”
She tilts her head slightly, a frown creasing her forehead.
“Or should I say motorcycle club?”
She waves her hand dismissively.
“Whatever.
Anyways, there's a chapter here in town, but they tend to keep to themselves.”
Her face breaks out into a grin.
“Mind you, after seeing some of Mr. Harvey's visitors, I wish they wouldn't.”
She wags her perfectly shaped eyebrows at me.
“There's a whole lotta hot biker down that hall lady!
Enjoy your shift.”
With those parting words and a wink in my direction, Ellen grabs her stuff and leaves.
I look over at the other two girls working this afternoon, but they aren't paying attention.
They're both leaning over the counter, peering down the hall towards room 239, trying to get a glimpse of the previously mentioned, hot bikers.
Rolling my eyes, I head off down the hall and start my rounds.
Checking in on my first three patients, I find all of them doing well and resting comfortably.
Taking my time, I wander to each room, dealing with each patient.
My dread grows as I get closer to the room where our new patient lays.
I can do this.
They aren’t the Devils.
There’s no way they’ll know who I am.
Will they?
My fear of all men on motorcycles is one I’d developed when my sister got herself tangled up with the Devil’s Rejects MC in Toronto.
My sister, Anna, has always liked her men bad, and the Devils are about as bad as it gets.
After meeting a few of them at the bar one night, she started hanging around their clubhouse on a regular basis, and became what I believe is called, a club whore.
They’d used her up and passed her around, with Anna loving every minute of it.
She’d been in a rough place in her life and had allowed them to treat her like shit.
This went on for about a year, then something happened with them and she still won’t tell me what that something was.
All I know is, she stopped going around and the Devils started showing up everywhere we went.
The store, our home, my job.
We never went to the police because Anna was worried they’d retaliate even worse.
Apparently bikers don’t like rats.
One day Anna came home with a broken arm, two black eyes and a bloody lip.
Again, she wouldn’t tell me what had happened but I knew then, it was time to get the hell out of there.
We packed up whatever we could fit in my beat up old Toyota Echo, and got the hell out of town.
I’d found this job online and that’s what led us here, to Ottawa.
We’re a five hour drive from the Devils, and I can only pray that it’s far enough.
We’d been here just over a month, and so far there’s no sign that the Devils are even looking for us.
I’m taking this as a good sign.
I continue my rounds, checking on my next patient.
He needs his catheter emptied and another blanket and I happily do this for him, deliberately stalling.
When I get to Mrs. Evans’ room, I take a deep breath, then open the door.
Mrs. Evans is a thirty year old mother of two young children, dying of cervical cancer.
Every time I come into her room, she greets me with a smile.
She never complains or gets upset.
Her bravery and acceptance of her impending death humbles me.
Her husband never leaves her side and her children come in each day to visit.
Watching this family, knowing their mother is about to leave them, makes my heart bleed.
I’ve been that kid – watching my mother die.
I know how devastating and scary it is.
I was older than the Evans children when my mom passed away but losing a mom at any age is traumatic.
This is especially true when you have to watch them wither away in a slow death that steals them from you day by day, right in front of your eyes.
They don’t notice me when I first enter the room.
Mr. Evans lays comfortably beside his wife, reading a novel out loud.
She has her eyes closed, smiling with a peaceful look on her face.
I clear my throat softly.
Mr. Evans stops reading, marks the page with his thumb and looks up at me.
Mrs. Evans opens her eyes and smiles in my direction.
Her face is serene – peaceful.
“Well, hello there.”
I approach the bed with a smile of my own.
“Just wanted to let you know that I’m on shift now, and will be your nurse for the evening.
Lucky you!”
I wink at them both.
“Lucky us indeed.”
Mrs. Evans’ smile widens.
She holds her arm out for me to place the blood pressure cuff on her so I can take her vitals.
“Jeff was just reading to me.”
She uses her free hand to lace her fingers with her husbands.
Her voice is weak and husky with fatigue.
“I have a to-read list a mile long, but I can’t seem to keep my eyes open long enough to read anymore.
You should stick around for when he gets to the sexy parts.”
She winks at me again.
“His face turns red as a tomato.”
“Now that I would like to see.”
I chuckle with her.
Mr. Evans is blushing furiously – already looking like a tomato.
“Ah.
There it is.”
I look to her and can’t help it when my face breaks out in a wide smile.
For a mountain of a man, he is quite adorable.
“I see what you mean.”
I don’t know how it’s possible, but his blush deepens and Mrs. Evans grins at him.
“Is there anything I can do for you folks at the moment?”
“Nope.
We’re going to lay here and read some more of this book, then I think I may take a little nap.”
She yawns the last three words, turning to snuggle back into her husband.
They are such a sweet couple.
My heart clenches in sympathy for them.
The love they share is obvious and beautiful.
I wonder what it’s like to have someone love you like that.
“Sounds like you might need that nap.” I reach down and squeeze her hand, then turn to leave.
“Push the call button if you need anything at all.
I’m at your service.”
Smiling at them again, I leave the room.
I’m only a few steps down the hall when a giant man comes barreling out of room 239.
My heart stops. This man is terrifying – exactly the type of biker that stars in my nightmares.
He’s huge, hairy and covered in tattoos.
The leather cut he wears tells me that he’s a member of the Kings of Korruption. His dark hair hangs just past his shoulders, a long beard hiding most of his face.
I quickly look to the floor as I pass, not missing the scowl he has aimed in my direction.
“Hey.”
His voice is gruff and gravelly, like he has been smoking a pack of cigarettes a day since he was born.
“Hey!”
Oh God.
He’s talking to me.
“You Smokey’s nurse?”