Wayward Temptation (Wayward Saints MC Book 6) (27 page)

“We’ll get you guys set up in a house
,
unless you want to stay in Raef’s old apartment. I didn’t have the heart to get rid of it
,
in case you ever decided to come and stay here.”
 

“Thank you. Staying at his place will be perfect. It will feel like he’s there with us
,
” I smile
,
while watching these hard bikers get all cute and loving for my sweet little boy.
 

“Just seeing that little boy makes it like he’s still here with us. Thank you for coming back.”
 

“Thank you for paying for my apartment.” He doesn’t say anything, but I’m sure that he knows how much it means to me that he would do something like that.
 

Without Raef in my life, I wouldn't have this sweet little boy
,
and this amazing family to lean on
,
when times get tough.

The End

Sneak Peek:

A Wayward Saints MC
 

Novella

Chapter One

Looking down at the number that just popped up on my phone makes me want to chuck it against the wall. Last time I talked to that bitch was when she decided that she couldn’t be part of my life anymore. She didn’t like the biker way of life, and thought that I would just end up cheating on her ass.
 

Even after I had promised her that I wouldn’t, she still left, and took half of my fucking heart with her.
 

I have no idea why she is even texting me right now. It’s been years since we last spoke, and it didn’t end on friendly terms. Clicking on her number, I read her message, even though I probably shouldn’t after everything this bitch has put me through.
 

Unknown:
Ry, I need your help. I know you probably still hate me, but I really need you.

Fuck. At least she got the hating her part right. Going against my better judgment, I write her back, and see what she could possible want after six years.
 

Me:
What do you want?

Unknown:
Can you meet me?

Me:
Fine. Where and when?

She texts me a place and a time, and I kick myself for even replying to the bitch. I need to meet up with her like I need a fucking hole in my brain. I pull on some jeans from the floor, and pull my boots on. Grabbing a clean t-shirt, I pull it over my head, and head out of my room.
 

Walking though the clubhouse I run into Brant and Jase talking about their ole’ ladies, and planning some dinner or some shit. Chuckling, I walk over to them, and smack them both on the backs of their heads.
 

“You fuckers sound like fucking pussies.” They both get grins on their faces, and shrug off my comment. Taking a seat next to Brant, I wait for them to start their shit talking.

“Just wait Ryder, you’ll be a pussy again one day,” Brant says, tossing a napkin at me.
 

“Fuck that. The only bitch that got close to being my ole’ lady split years ago, and that ship has fucking sailed. I plan of taking over Jase’s pussy supply, since he got all fucking tied down like your bitch ass,” I say, and grin at them both.
 

“I got to go; I’ll talk to you fuckers later.” We all mutter our goodbyes, and I stand up making my way outside to my bike.
 

Starting the engine, I can only think that I’m making a huge fucking mistake going to see her. I liked it better when I didn’t have to think about her, and all our fucking memories. I wasted four years of my life with her.
 

Pulling up to the coffee shop we used to hang out in high school, I remember the last time we were fucking here together. We fought about me joining the Wayward Saints, and how she couldn’t stomach seeing all the whores hitting on me at every turn. She didn’t want me to become a member because she was afraid of something happening to me, or worse, me getting killed.
 

I tried for weeks to get her to understand why I was doing it, but no matter what I said or did, it was never enough to keep us together.
 

Sitting on my bike, I watch the people walk in and out of the coffee shop, but I don’t see her. After waiting for twenty minutes, I check my phone, and send her a message.

Me:
Where the fuck are you? I have shit to do.

She doesn’t reply, so I stick my phone back in my jeans, and contemplate leaving. I shake my head as I pull a cigarette out of the pack, and put it to my lips. Before I can light it, I hear a voice behind me say, “You know those will kill you.”

I light the cigarette, and turn around to see the girl who walked out on me six years ago. She doesn’t look like she’s changed a bit. Her long black hair is curled, and her body is still just as tight as I remember it being. Her brown eyes look sad. I try to think with my head instead of my dick, but it’s fucking hard - literally and figuratively.
 

“Looks like you haven’t changed. I don’t remember the last time you were actually on time for something.”
 

She snickers, and walks closer to me. She tosses her black hair over one of her shoulders, and plays with the ends.
 

“It’s good to see you Ryder.” Her voice is quiet, and she looks unsure of what to say.

“You too. You look like you’re doing well,” I throw out there. Hell, I don’t even know how to fucking process seeing her again.

She blushes, and hides her face in her hair. Grabbing her wrist, I pull her closer, and move her hair out of her face. She’s way too beautiful to be covering her face.

“Why did you need to meet with me?” I question.
 

I’m not here for a reunion, and I want to get back out of her life before I do something fucking stupid like fuck her on my bike.
 

Her eyes roam my body, and I have to force myself to remember that she’s the one who left me. She’s the bitch who fucking broke me.

“I need your help. I got in over my head, and I can’t get myself out of it.” I watch as she fidgets with her hands. She keeps looking over her shoulder, like someone is going to come after her at any minute.
 

“What did you do?” I ask bluntly.

“A couple of years ago I started dancing at a club, and before you say anything, please don’t. I needed the money, and it was the only way to make a lot without having a college degree. I get paid really well and…” she trails off.
 

I force her to look at me. “And what Danielle?” I grit out.
 

“They are now forcing me to take men to the back and fuck them. I only got in it to dance. I never wanted to be an escort. What do I do?”
 

Looking into her eyes, I see the tears starting to form, and part of me wants to do everything I can to help her. But the other part makes me want to laugh and say, this is what you get.
 

“Ryder,” she whispers, when I don’t say anything.

“Don’t you have some fucking boyfriend to help you get out of this mess? You’re not my girl anymore, and I don’t see why I have to be the one to bail your ass out.”
 

She shrinks back, and pulls out of my grip. “You know what? Forget I even asked you. I’ll figure it out on my own.”
 

She turns to leave, and I get a sick feeling in my gut. I loved her for a long time. If she can get the fucking guts to come ask me for help, I should be able to fucking man up and help her.
 

“Don’t go. I’m sorry,” I say, getting off my bike, and going after her.
 

She’s about to get into a nice BMW that I wouldn’t be able to afford in a million years. I grab her door, and keep her from closing it.
 

“No, it’s fine Ryder. I shouldn’t have even contacted you,” she sighs. Her brown eyes are still just as fucking beautiful as ever, and staring into them makes me want to fuck her, and help her all at once.
 

“Danielle, just fucking tell me what you need me to do.”
 

She slowly gets out of her car, and stands in front of me. “I just want to get out of this club and move on from these people. I want my life back, and I know I’ll never get it back if I am forced to do something I don’t agree with. I’m not a whore, and I don’t want to be forced to sleep with these men. Dancing I can do, the rest I can’t.”
 

“Where are you working?” I ask, not really wanting to know the answer to that. I can’t fucking imagine my girl working as a fucking stripper.
 

Shit. She’s not mine anymore.
 

“Mickey’s,” she whispers.
 

Fuck. That club is in Black Hills territory, and I have no idea if it’s actually owned by them or not.
 

“Danielle, who owns that club?” She shrugs, and looks at me with sad eyes.
 

“I don’t know, I just work there,” she says, trying to look over my shoulder.
 

“Ellie, who are you looking for?” I ask, looking behind me.
 

“Evan. He’s kinda my boyfriend, slash douche bag, who got me this job. I think he’s the one who calls the shots there, and he won’t let me leave him. I tried a week ago, and he backhanded me.” She casts her eyes down, and her body heaves.
 

Pulling her body into mine, I get a million jolts shooting through my body. She still fits me like a she’s meant to be with me. This girl was my high school sweetheart, and I would do anything for her then, and apparently now too.

About the Author

K. Renee is from sunny California. Creative by nature, she decided to put her imagination on paper. During the day, she works in an office; at night, she writes. These stories have been in her head for years and are finally coming out on paper.

K. Renee started writing this year, but has loved writing since she was young. She started this series because the story wouldn't get out of her head, no matter what she did. She's twenty-six years old, typically writing in her free time or on her lunch break. K. Renee works full-time and tries and go to the gym every day. She reads constantly and has hundreds of books she can't wait to start.