Raw: The Ultimate Mc Collection (3 page)

I floated, aimlessly searching the corners of my mind for some tidbit of knowledge that might give me even a tiny twinge of insight as to who I was, where I was,
why
I was.

And still, the light never came. Only the promise of it, like a word on the tip of my tongue that I never remembered, that I couldn’t even remember if I used to know.

Everything was just gone. My past. My future. My present.

All of it. Wiped clean.

Empty.

CHAPTER FIVE

Ryder

I sat at the edge of the bed, my gaze trailing back and forth between her closed eyelids, her lips and her chest.  I rubbed my swollen, tired eyes, my body begging me to go to sleep.  But I couldn’t.  Even when I had forced myself to lay down, I was haunted by thoughts of her.  It was no use.  I had spent three days now searching for any sign of her waking up, but nothing had changed.  It was the middle of the night, the clubhouse partying having died down once again.  Stillness fell over the room, nothing but the faint sounds of country music playing in the background and her breath dancing with mine as I watched her, remembering, waiting, waiting, waiting.

“How long can she live like this, Doc?” I had asked Doc that first night.  I was so grateful for him.  If it wasn’t for Doc, I would have had no choice but to take her to the hospital, and I surely would have been blamed for her condition.  Doc was a retired Army medic, who just happened to be one of our long time brothers in the MC.  It was convenient for times just like this.  Although, we had never actually dealt with a situation exactly like this before.  We weren’t in the business of saving random women and killing random assholes.  The most intense thing Doc had dealt with for the club was a gunshot.  This was a whole different thing.

“Well, indefinitely, Ryder.  Long as she’s got the IV, and her brain doesn’t swell any more, it’s really up to her when she wakes up.  We’ll just have to wait.”

And wait we did.  And wait some more.  And wait more and more and more.  It was fucking excruciating.  Three whole days and no sign of her stirring anytime soon. 

It was like some beautiful stranger just barged into my life, and decided to take a big, long, epic fucking nap in my bed.  I was starting to get past the point of intrigued and fully into annoyance mode now.

There wasn’t anywhere else to put her.  The clubhouse wasn’t huge, and my room was the only room that was anywhere close to clean and off-limits to everyone else.  The rest of the clubhouse was a mess and always in an unbelievable state of disarray.  Cleaning wasn’t high on anyone’s priority list.

I sighed, stood up and walked outside.  A slight breeze refused to allow me to light my cigarette, and I turned towards the house to shield the flame.  When I did, I saw the damned owl again.  Perched on the porch railing, absently cleaning himself as if he belonged there.

He had been hanging around every night now.  He didn’t leave like he always had the other times I had seen him.  Every time I went out to smoke at night, there he was, watching me, waiting with me.

I had begun to wonder if he knew more than me.  Did he know what was going to happen?  Was she ever going to wake up?  Was he waiting for her to die?

I hoped like hell she didn’t.  I didn’t need two dead bodies on my hands.  And, I had to admit, annoyed or not, I was totally intrigued.  I wanted to know who she was.  She was beautiful, despite the fact she had been beaten up.  The swelling had gone down, and only light scratches and fading bruises remained on her perfect skin. 

I leaned against the front of the house, staring off into the tall pine trees that surrounded the house.  The owl sat next to me, cleaning himself, licking each feather over and over before moving on to the next.

“I’m glad you’re so comfortable, little dude.  Making yourself right at home, are you?”

As usual, he just looked up at me briefly, blinking his eyes a few times before he went back to his bath. 

I put my cigarette out after only a few draws on it.  I hated smoking.  I had stopped long ago, but after all this fucking waiting, day in and day out, my nerves were raw and on edge, and I needed something, anything, to do with my hands while I continued waiting.

The screen door to the clubhouse swung open, and Cherry walked out.  Scratch that, she sashayed out, it was the only way she knew how to move.

“Can I bum one?” she asked, pointing to my pack of cigarettes.

I handed her one, and lit it for her.  She inhaled deeply, her eyes squinting at me curiously. 

“So, Sleeping Beauty hasn’t woken up yet?” she drawled, a curl of smoke slithering out of her smeared red lips.

“No,” I said.

“Well, shit.  It’s been a while, huh?  You must be exhausted, holding court at her bedside like that.”  Her voice was laced with jealousy, but I ignored it.  “Did you kiss her yet?”

“What the fuck? Why would I kiss her, Cherry?  She’s fucking unconscious,”  I snarled.

“Fuck, relax, Ryder.  I was making a joke.  Sleeping Beauty, Prince Charming, get it?  Fuck, you’re tense,” she said.

She was right.  Any other night, I would have laughed along with her.  But this whole thing had me wound up so tight, I didn’t even realize she was joking.  I was usually a lot more easy-going than this. 

Cherry sidled up to me, her hand sliding up my arm as she pressed her tits into me.

“Is there anything I can do to help you relax, Ryder?  Maybe you just need a little release, huh?”

I cringed.  Fucking Cherry was the last thing I wanted to do right now. I shrugged her off of me, and turned on my heel.

“Fuck this.”  I threw the butt in the can on the porch step, and walked back inside the clubhouse, leaving her alone on the porch.  As soon as the door swung shut, I heard the low swoosh of the owl flying off into the dark night.

I walked back down the hallway, doing my usual dance of zigzagging through the maze of articles of various clothing, sleeping, naked limbs, beer bottles and spilled alcohol. 

“Someone’s gotta clean this shit up,” I muttered to myself as I walked back into my room, shutting the door on the chaos behind me.

The lights were dimmed, and I walked straight to the chair beside her - my - bed.  It had become routine.  Wait.  Smoke.  Go wait a little longer. 

When I sat down, and I let my gaze fall on her, I almost jumped out of my skin.

Huge green eyes blinked silently at me. Blankly.

“Where am I?” she whispered, her voice rough, scratchy…undeniably sexy.

Stunned, I stared back, speechless as a shy school boy.

CHAPTER SIX

Grace

The darkness was so heavy, so dark now.  I was drowning in it, not understanding why, but knowing I needed to get out from under it.  If only I had a reason to fight.  A reason to break through. 

Anything.  But I kept floating, weightless, like a feather caught in the current of a never-ending river, the blackness washed over me as I tumbled through it, head over heels, over and over, the constant silence muffling any sounds.

A flash of light, a shutting door, the chords of a guitar, and then darkness all over again. But wait! That was something! I clawed at the corners of my mind, reaching out my arms, my fingers, wanting more of it, more of the light, the music, more of anything.  Anything that wasn’t nothing.

I forced myself to swim faster through the darkness, towards the music.  And then another flash of light. 

Progress.  Keep swimming.  Swim faster.

The hands of my consciousness whipped through the darkness, paddling away from it, pushing it behind me, as I began gasping for breath, and then I heard a low moaning on top of the music.  Was that me?

Faster the lights flashed past.  Swooshing around me, mixing with the darkness in streaks, until the darkness had faded away completely.

Light sparkled around me like shimmering, dancing stars, the music pounding louder and louder in my head until my pulse found the beat of the drums.

Open your eyes!
 A voice, under the music, whispering, singing to me.  
Open them!
 

I didn’t realize they were closed, so I blinked, and blinked, until everything around me came into focus. 

And then nothing made sense.  My pulsed raced, but I remained still.  Nothing was familiar, but it wasn’t unfamiliar, either.

Where was I?  Is this where I belonged? 

The opening door startled me, and I stared silently at the hulking figure that came closer and closer, his eyes down, his shoulders slumped, his thoughts obviously locked away far behind his blue eyes.  He sat down with a huge, exasperated sigh, and my lips parted in surprise at the heat exuding from his large frame.

My god, he was stunning.

And then he looked at me.  The blood drained from his face and he looked at me as if I was a ghost.

Was I a ghost?  Who is this man
, I thought?

“Where am I?”  I managed to ask, my throat dry as cotton, the words scraping out of me painfully.

He stared at me so long, I was sure he must be a dream.  But, then, after a long pause, he spoke.

“Wow,” he whispered, his voice deep as a well.

“Who are you?”  I asked again, this time ending the question in a fit of coughing.

He flew into motion, grabbing a glass of water from a table behind him and offering it to me.

“Here, here…drink this,” he said, cradling my head gently as I raised it, drinking from the glass as he held it to my lips.  As soon as the cold water touched my tongue, I realized just how parched I was.  I drank the whole glass, gulping it down quickly.

“Wow,” he said again, shaking his head as he sat the glass back down on the table.  He turned back to me, his dark blue eyes wildly sexy, yet gentle and concerned.  “How do you feel?”

“Feel?”  I asked.  I had no idea how I felt.  “Um…confused, mostly. Where am I?  Who are you?”

“Right, okay,” he said, scratching his chin.  “Of course you have questions.  I guess we both do, huh?”

He looked nervous, jittery, his right knee began bouncing up and down as he stared at me.

“Okay, um…well, I’m Ryder.  I um…I found you.  And well, you’re at my clubhouse.”

“Clubhouse?”  I asked.  I glanced around the room, even more confused.  It looked like a regular bedroom to me, even if was a bit dusty and masculine.

“Yeah, clubhouse.  Well, you’re actually in my bedroom.”

His bedroom? What? Should I be afraid? How could I, though? This guy looked like he’d kill an army for me, the look of concern in his eyes was almost overwhelming.  He was completely tender towards me.  

“We’re the Gods of Chaos Motorcycle Club.  I’m Ryder.  I’m the President.”

“Motorcycle club? Um…okay.  Why am I here?”  I asked, my mind beginning to flood with a million unanswered questions.  I looked down at my body, covered in blankets, an IV needle stuck in my hand.  I started to move, but every muscle in my body ached, and I fell back against the pillows.  “What happened to me?”

“Yeah, that.  Well, I was hoping you could fill in some information for me, too.”

“What?”  I asked, my mind searching a mile a minute now for anything that I could grasp as facts.  I was coming up completely empty.  I needed to get out of here.  I moved again to try to sit up, but the pain ripped through my body.

“Well, um…listen, just lay back, okay?  I can’t imagine you feel very good.  I’ll tell you what I know.  But first, let me go get Doc, just stay right there,” he said, turning to walk away before hesitating and turning back to me.  He put his hand on my cheek and whispered to me.  “You’re safe now, I promise.”

He turned away, and I saw the huge patch on the back of the leather vest he was wearing.  The Gods of Chaos MC.  Where in the hell was I?

I moaned in pain as he walked away and out of the room.  Within seconds, he was back with a short man with wild grey curls sprouting out of his head and a matching beard hanging down below his chin.  He was wearing the same patched leather vest as the first man. 

“You woke up!  Well, holy shit!  That’s just great, ain’t it?”  he said, laying his hands all over me.  I recoiled in fear.  He didn’t look like any doctor I had ever seen.  “You’re okay, don’t worry, Miss. Let’s just check you out real quick.”