Ryker (Kings of Korruption MC Book 1) (5 page)

“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, seeing 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 that 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.