Ryder: MC Biker Romance (Great Wolves Motorcycle Club Book 8) (8 page)

Jules

Southwood was my
hometown, my prison, my fate. I didn’t regret running away from my wedding. I
didn’t regret being with Ryder. Even more now. Now that I was committed to
doing what Daddy wanted.

Six months ago I’d
lied to Ryder. And I’d done it to be sure Daddy never touched him. I did give
up my freedom, but it wasn’t for Daddy it was for Ryder. But he could never
know.

After Ryder had put
me on the bus, the doors closed on St. Joseph but I kept my eyes on Ryder as
long as I could. And he on me.

I was headed west.
As far as he was concerned.

But Daddy had
easily found me. And he’d upped the ante.

My little bag, the
one I’d been guarding with my life, had a note, a photo, and another remnant of
Ross.

I’d opened on my
last trip to the Covert Campground showers, and there it was. In a nice little
bundle.

“Get on the bus.
Get off at the first stop. If you continue to run Violet will start looking a
lot like Ross. And keep your mouth shut about it or it will be worse. Dad.”

Tears came, and I
blinked them away.

Shit. He’d been on
my trail the entire time. I’d never lost him or gotten away. He knew about
Violet?

 Ryder had no idea
about the threat. The note. And I wasn’t going to tell him. I was getting on a
bus and living my dreams out West as far as he was concerned. The idea of Ryder
getting killed, his beautiful mother getting hurt, because I ran away, I
couldn’t live with it.

So at the first
stop of the bus. I got off. And there was Daddy. He’d come to fetch me himself.
The urge to run again was strong.

But I’d gone and
found people to love. That was a huge mistake. Because it gave Daddy and the Devil’s
Hawks people to hurt on my behalf.

“Get on. We’ll
talk when we get home.” It was a much different feeling on the back of Daddy’s
bike than Ryder's. I felt my heart grow cold with each revolution of his tires.

Home. Southwood,
Michigan. I thought I’d gotten away from it. But instead, I’d be living my life
here. It was almost unbearable. Except this time I was a little bolder. If I were
going to play a part in Daddy’s plans, I would bargain. Just a little.

“David Wexler
won’t have you now,” Daddy spit out the words, “your little stunt embarrassed
the shit out of him,” I smiled. I didn’t mean to, but I did. David was a cocky bastard,
and I didn’t want to be near him.

“Wipe that smile
off your face.” I swallowed my glee at embarrassing David and got serious.
Daddy was a dangerous man. He’d never hit me, but I didn’t put it past him. The
courage I’d had to run was in sparse supply now that I was back under his thumb
again.

“You can’t make me
marry someone. It’s medieval, and you already saw I’ll bolt.” I already knew
I’d do what Daddy said, but I was bluffing and posturing. He’d have to give me
a tiny concession.

“And you already
heard what I’ll do to your little fling and his mother. If I don’t approve it,
you don’t do it.”

“What do you want
from me?”

“Since you pissed
off my cop friend I had to adapt. I promised you to his dad.”

“Judge Wexler? You
have to be fucking kidding. He’s gotta be seventy years old?” And with that,
Daddy slapped me across the mouth.

It stung, and it
was the line he’d not crossed since I was a kid. He was willing to hurt me too.
How much I didn’t know. But enough.

“You made this
bed. I set you up the young good looking one. Now you’re going to sleep with
the old wrinkly one. Turns out you did me a favor, though. Judge Wexler has
more power and influence. And probably a limp dick so you’re welcome.” Daddy
was like a jungle cat. He stalked around me. He pounced. He enjoyed toying with
me. I was the mouse, and he was batting me around with his claws.

Daddy was behaving
as cruel as I knew him to be.

“I have
conditions.” That stopped his prowling around our living room.

“Conditions?”

“Yes. You may kill
everyone I ever looked at but if I don’t cooperate, even The Judge won’t want
me. I guarantee it.”

“I wouldn’t test
that little theory of yours.”

“I want to run my
own business.”

Daddy rolled his
eyes at me.

“I’m serious. I’ll
play nice with The Judge. With the club. Whatever. But I want to run my jewelry
design business. And you’re going to give me the money to start it.”

“You aren’t really
in a position to make demands.”

“And I want it legal,
I want to have my own company, and I’ll marry The Judge with a smile on my
face.”

“Fine. Do your job
for The Hawks and you can design all the bling you want to.”

“I want a lawyer
to draw it up too. A real company that’s mine.”

Daddy stepped in
close to me and cupped my face in his hands.

“Okay, you can do
the business; I’ll let you draw up the papers. You’re a good girl. No more
running. You’ll be safe with The Judge and here in Southwood.” And then he
pulled me in for a hug.

He smelled like
cigarettes. As always. It was the smell of my childhood. Cigarettes, leather,
and intimidation. I wanted Daddy’s approval, and I had never got it.

Daddy did love me.
In his way. The way he’d loved my mother. As a thing, a possession that could
help him and the club. I was an object or a pet to be used how he wanted.

He did want me
safe. That was something. And maybe he even wanted me a little bit happy. Maybe
not.

In the end,
he let me get Julery going because I would
be less likely to run if I had something to keep me occupied. Something to keep
me distracted.

Something to do
while Judge Wexler and Daddy kept me in Southwood so that the Devil’s Hawks and
Daddy could break any law he wanted.

I thought about
Violet, Ryder, even Ross, who had lost two fingers thanks to me bolting.

I was willing to
run to save myself, but I couldn’t live with myself if my running got anyone
else hurt.

I would stay put.
I would marry Judge Wexler.

I’d never see
Ryder again.

But I would have
my designs. My business.

It wasn’t enough
to warm my heart back up, but at least it would keep beating with something I
could call my own.

Even if it wasn’t
love.

Ryder

The club set up
would work. They had a small bar that pretty much only their MC used. Not like
the Great Wolves in other cities that had turned their bars into money makers.
This place was cigarette smoke, pool tables, and a club trying to hold
together. It was a few blocks away from the space they were using to set up
their attempt at an auto body shop.

Maybe Ridge and I
really could help them. The President of their probational charter was a young
guy, Cruz. There was a lot of shit on his shoulders, and I felt for him.
Sometimes I forgot how hard it was in the beginning. When we first tried to
transition from outlaws. We felt poor, caged, and we fought.

But we were tired
of running and tired of dying. It wasn’t until we started earning money and
respect in Grand City that it got a little easier. That took years, and we lost
brothers to the process. We also had Sawyer lead us. That was key. There
weren’t many Sawyers.

All that would be
on Cruz. He had to be a tough son of a bitch to make it work. He also had to
command respect. He was caramel skinned and black haired, and I’d guess he was
only a few years older than me.

He lead on his
bike as Ridge, and I followed him to the garage set up they were trying. I
thought the club and the garage ought to be in the same space. But one issue at
a time. I’d take that up later. They had a nice sized building, and it looked
like a lot of space to grow. I parked my bike while Cruz got us up to speed.

“So I’ve got three
good mechanics, Brett, Polk, and Nero.”

“Are they on board
with this deal?”

“Yeah, Brett got
shot in the chest last year collecting payment on some oxy we were delivering.
Nearly bled to death while Nero plugged the hole with his fist. Yeah, these
three are very interested in finding cash and fewer sucking chest wounds.”

“Shit. Lucky to be
alive.”

“Hell yeah. What
these three don’t have is any fucking idea on how to run a damn business. And
if I’m busy running the security side of things.”

“That’s why Ridge
is here. To help you like I’m helping your mechanics.”

“How many places
you patrolling right now?” Ridge asked.

“We have six,”
Cruz said.

“We’re going to
double it. Maybe triple while we’re here.”

“That would be
good for cash flow,” Cruz said.

“On that, GW Grand
City MC has investment for you.” I handed him ten grand in an envelope.

“Shit man.” Cruz
looked at the envelope.

“We took it to the
table,” Ridge said.

“It was unanimous.
Use it how you want but if I were you, I’d use some to make sure your guys have
money for their old ladies and kids.”

“Yeah, this will
go a long way. Thank you. From my table to yours.”

“Okay, I’ll head
to the garage, you two can get to work on security.” I didn’t need Cruz hanging
around. I needed him to be the Prez, and I needed to see if this Bret, Polk,
and Nero had what it took to get a business off the ground.

“See you later
brother, let’s see what businesses need protecting around here,” Ridge said,
and the two of them drove off.

I headed in to see
what I had to work with. I walked into a small reception area with a giant
receptionist. The hairy beast at the desk had a patch that let me know he was
Polk.

“We’re not open yet,”
Polk said to me.

“Yeah you are,” I
replied. He looked up to see my leather and patch.

“Ah, you. I didn’t
know today was the day. I’m trying to fucking set up the God damn computer you
sent.”

“It is the day.
And it’s easy. Why don’t you get the rest of the crew out here?”

“Easy. Ugh.” Polk
gave a hard click to the mouse and then yelled. “Nero. Bret! Corporate’s here.”

“Corporate?” I’d
never been called that before. I hoped this guy was a better mechanic than he
was a receptionist.

Nero shuffled in first.
He wore a mechanic’s jumper and put out a hand. I remembered what Cruz had told
me. Nero was the kind of brother who would use his fist to stop the bleeding.
That was a good brother to have around. He was almost as big as Polk the
ill-tempered receptionist. His head was covered with a bandana, and his arms
were covered in tats. The guy seemed more welcoming than Polk though. He
extended an arm, and we shook.

“We got six cars
in here right now. And one bike.”

“Good start. And I
see your lovely receptionist is a snap with the booking computer.” Polk
growled. I knew the type. It wouldn’t be long, and he’d have it figured out. I
hoped.

Nero led me back,
and I was impressed. The stations were laid out in a way that made sense. It
was a good sign. I still hadn’t met Bret.

A pair of legs
under a 1987 Impala let me know that Bret was likely under there.

“Bret’s not a fan
of talking to people. Meeting people. Well, people in general.”

“I don’t really
give a shit. I’m here to make sure you make money.”

“Hear that Bret.
Money.” Nero kicked Bret’s work boot.

Slowly Bret rolled
out from under the Impala I realized this gunshot-survivor-crackerjack-mechanic
and all around surly Great Wolf mechanic was, in fact, a woman. A tiny woman
with a gigantic attitude. She looked up at me. Her face was smudged with grease,
and her hair dyed blue. She had a sneer for me. Though I didn’t take it
personally. She probably had a sneer for everybody.

“Thelma-and-Louise-Brad-Pitt
here is going to set up our garage? Let me see your nails.” Brad Pitt?
Whatever. I showed her my hand. I was trying to be nice. To a point.

 I presented them
to her with a raised eyebrow, and she grabbed my fingers and turned my hands
around to look.

“Calluses good.
But too damn clean,” Bret said.

“I use a little
thing called soap. That can be lesson one of your grease musketeer training.”

Bret gave me
another sneer. She was tiny but tough and totally in charge of Nero and Polk.
I’m sure there was a story there, but I didn’t have time for it. I had a garage
to set up if this little MC was going to survive.

I took my leather
off and dug in.

Jules

The Judge was
merciful with me. For that, I was grateful. No more fingers removed from the people
that helped me.

No more worries
that Daddy would come after Ryder or Violet.

And very little
hope. But a little hope is better than none.

This time instead
of hating the wedding planning process I pretended, I liked it.

I angled for a
long engagement. I convinced anyone around me that a lot of planning was needed
to throw a wedding for a prominent judge. I tapped danced. A lot.

I’d agreed to
marry The Judge and then I used him as my shield, my umbrella, and my way to
buy time.

Judge Wexler,
Richard, was in, fact, seventy. He was rich. Powerful. And the opposite of
Daddy in the way he used that power. I never saw him raise his voice or
intimidate anyone by violence.

Judge Wexler
intimidated with favors. By giving them, refusing them, and calling them in.

His power ran
deeper than Daddy’s in many ways, and in places, I didn’t understand. I was
pretty sure I didn’t want to understand. What I had to do was play along.

I was presented to
Richard the day after I’d made the deal with Daddy.

I’d, of course,
met him when I was supposed to marry his
son, who was still sulking, but this new arrangement put me on a different
footing with him. He was no longer a man who was supposed to be my
father-in-law. He was a man who I’d agreed to be with. I didn’t let my mind go
too far down that road. If I did, I’d run again. I wouldn’t be as lucky the
second time. I knew there wasn’t a Ryder out there to help me. There couldn’t
be.

We met in his
judge’s chambers at the courthouse. There were books lining the walls, plaques
on a credenza, and pictures of people that I was supposed to be impressed with.
It worked.

“Juliet. Sweet
Juliet.” He’d come from around his desk and indicated we sit by a coffee table
at the window of his office. It was so fancy and old fashioned. This was not
the world I’d grown up in.

“I do not blame
you for running from David. Let me get that on the table right now. I have no
grudge about that,” Judge Wexler said.

“Thank you,
Judge.”

“How about call me
Richard?” he said.

“Richard.” I sat
down in the chair across from him. I’d worn a pink flowered dress.

“You look even
younger than when you ran from the church. I like it. It’s good for me to
remember how lucky I am to have you.” He smiled, and I swallowed hard. Was it
dangerous to like him? I didn’t know what was worse, my Dad, who’s teeth, were
always bared, and claws always sharpened, or a soft and smiling Richard, I
couldn’t duck if I didn’t know what was coming.

I decided, to be
honest. I was going to have to lie about enough. My emotions? Maybe I could
give The Judge a few of those. Maybe I needed to.

“I’m scared,
Richard.”

“Because we’re not
in love? Or because you’re being forced into this?”

“Yes.” He slid
forward in his chair, and the leather made a noise. He put his hands out and
took mine in his. Maybe I had already thrown him off with exposing my true fear
in front of him.

He tugged me forward,
and our knees were touching. Mine were bare in my dress. He was always in a suit
and his judge robe.

Richard didn’t try
to grope me. His son had in the few days we were together. This was refreshing.

“You can talk to
me. I want you to enjoy yourself. I want to make you happy. Having a pretty
young wife is the ultimate prize for a man like me. And I want you to know I
think of you as just that. A prize.”

I didn’t know
about being considered a prize. But the idea that he wanted to make me happy
could work. I was going to be as open as possible.

“I promise I’ll
come around if you’re patient,” I said.

“What do you want?
I’ll get you whatever you want.” He looked in my eyes. I had a chance here.

“How about you let
me design us engagement rings? And I want to plan my kind of wedding. Not my
Daddy’s. With David, it was too fast. All Daddy’s idea and I had no say in it.
I want it to be beautiful. And mine.”

“We can do that.”
He leaned over and place a kiss on both of my hands.

 I decided I needed
Judge Richard Wexler as my ally, not Daddy’s. I decided to play him and stall
him for all he was worth.

I had weapons too.
Both hidden and on full display in my pink floral dress. I was going to use
them. I didn’t know how but I did know I needed time to figure them out.
Playing Judge Wexler just right could give me that time.

I hoped.