Ravage Me (Ravage MC) Read online

  Ravage Me

  Copyright © 2014 by Ryan Michele

  Editor: Chelsea Kuhel (http://www.madisonseidler.com)

  Editor: Laura Hampton (https://www.facebook.com/editingforyou)

  Cover Artist: Melissa Gill at MG Book Covers (http://salon.io/mgbookcovers)

  Formatting: Angela McLaurin, Fictional Formats (https://www.facebook.com/FictionalFormats)

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.

  All rights reserved.

  Prologue

  Chapter 1—Harlow

  Chapter 2—Harlow

  Chapter 3—Cruz

  Chapter 4—Harlow

  Chapter 5—Cruz

  Chapter 6—Harlow

  Chapter 7—Cruz

  Chapter 8—Harlow

  Chapter 9—Cruz

  Chapter 10—Harlow

  Chapter 11—Cruz

  Chapter 12—Harlow

  Chapter 13—Cruz

  Chapter 14—Harlow

  Chapter 15—Harlow

  Chapter 16—Cruz

  Chapter 17—Harlow

  Chapter 18—Cruz

  Epilouge—Cruz

  Acknowledgements

  To my mom—Thank you.

  This was the life I was born into, and bloodshed somehow always played a prominent part in it. Today, everything was coming to a combustible head. With the gun being held at my temple, all I could think about was him… getting him out of here alive. The bitch had put so much time and energy into coming after me, I knew it was coming. Now she had the most precious thing in my life. I never knew how empty my life was or how love could be so deep that it cuts you like a knife. I would do anything to get him out of here alive. The gunshots began, and my eyes locked with his. I prayed for survival.

  2 years… 1 month… 5 days…

  I had been living the perpetual monotony of my life for exactly two years, one month, and five days. It’s like my life was the epitome of Groundhog’s Day, repeating over and over again, eating away at my soul.

  I hated white. I couldn’t stand the fucking color. Everywhere I looked was the same cold, damp, sterility trying to suffocate me, forcing me to give up—to give in. But that wasn’t gonna happen.

  For seven hundred and sixty five days of my life, I’ve stared at the solid block walls and cold prison bars, only to be let outside for an hour a day. I knew it was for my own safety, but I missed lying outside in the sun, feeling it melt my skin, and wash everything away. In here, there was no relaxation… ever.

  I’m not gonna bitch. I’ve been extremely lucky, and I damn well knew it. Without my Pops’ connections to guards and powerful people on the outside, life in this place could have been a hell of a lot worse. Having my own room has proved to be the best gig because, in there, those bitches couldn’t get to me. They wanted me. I knew it. They all knew who I was and what I represented. Payback hits on me would give them status in their families and I wasn’t willing to give anyone that.

  Am I hiding? Hell no. I’d be more than happy to take these bitches on, but not here. The shit these women snuck in when no one was looking was deadly, and my goal was to do my time and get out alive. I knew what these bitches were capable of, and they knew my capabilities, too.

  I’ve had my own incidents in here. They were all club related, and getting help from inside made them happen smoothly. It was help that I had to pay for, but I did what needed to be done and didn’t regret a damn thing. I did it for my family.

  I may have a pussy, but I ain’t one. I’ve got bigger balls than most guys out there. Even though I’ll never be a member of the club, because it’s not possible, I always hold my head up high. I learned at a very young age that bitches didn’t ever get patched in, and I accepted that, but I’d be damned if I acted like some pussy motorcycle club princess.

  Growing up with the Ravage MC’s hasn’t been easy. The life, the world, was different than civilian life and I learned from the best. Ever since I was a baby, my life was the club. Pops has been a patched member since before I was born, and Ma’s always been by his side. Even though I was shielded as much as possible, I’ve seen my share of death, guns, drugs, sex, and blood in my twenty-five years than most people could tolerate. This was my normal. This was my reality. I accepted that a long time ago.

  I missed my life, and I’ve always known my place in it. Being the Vice President’s daughter hasn’t given me any idealizations that I’m anything more than exactly that. I never get special privileges because, the bottom line, I’m not, nor will I ever be, a patched member. I’ve earned the respect I received from the brothers by learning what they have taken the time to teach me. I thrived on that and couldn’t wait to get it back.

  I was ready to escape this hell-hole and finally go back to my family. Back to a life that was taken away from me for two years, back to right some wrongs. I couldn’t fucking wait.

  Walking down the long corridor, the sunlight cascaded through the small rectangular window. I began blinking my eyes, getting ready for the adjustment when the door opened. I’ve never liked surprises—they get you killed, quickly. I hoped my outside instincts kicked back in after all this time. It’s the one thing I’ve been afraid of losing. I’ve learned to keep myself sharp inside to stay alive, but being free was a different kind of survival.

  “Here.” The cold tone of the guard, something I’ll never miss, ordered me forward. Some of these assholes were utterly worthless individuals who preyed on women daily. Luckily, I’ve only had two encounters with said assholes. When I broke the first one’s nose, he decided I wasn’t worth the hassle. It got me locked in solitary for a few days and a few bruises, but I actually liked it there. I was left alone. I thought about doing it again, maybe get an extended stay, but my mind always reverted to survival, and getting the hell out of here the easiest way possible.

  The other, I’ve tried to block out of my head. As soon as my feet step outside this door, I would forget what he did, and not a single soul would ever know.

  I watched as the guard’s hand extended from his body, holding a clear plastic bag. Reaching for it, not much was inside. The clothes I was wearing when I got in this hell-hole were ripped when I didn’t move as quickly as the officer said, so only a few items remained. Inside the bag was the cross necklace I wore that night, my ID, and a few dollars in cash. The cash actually surprised me; I was sure that would have disappeared by now with all the crooked-ass people inside.

  “Gavelson!” I didn’t want to turn toward the voice, not with the exit so close. But I knew they still owned me until I stepped out that door. Until then, I needed to mind myself.

  “Yes, sir,” I said, slowly turning around to see the warden coming closer. His stocky build with his oversized stomach hanging over his uniform pants was nothing to get wet about, but he proved a good ally while I was inside. Warden Dunn was on Pops’s payroll and set me up with my nice surroundings. He even passed certain things along from Pops during my stay. So I respected him as much as a person could while locked up. Did I trust him? No. The moment you trusted someone in
here, you ended up dead.

  Looking directly into my eyes, I saw a splash of concern come across his as he tilted his head slowly to the side. His voice reminded me of a whiny teenager, even though he was nowhere near his teenage years. His voice sounded raspy as if he was going through the change all over again. “You don’t come back here, girl.”

  “I’ll do my best,” I answered, immediately knowing there were never any guarantees in this life, and your word was your only bond. If you didn’t have that, you had nothing. I wasn’t about to make him a promise; I didn’t know for sure I could keep. I would definitely do my damnedest never to step foot in here again, though.

  “Take care, Princess,” the warden whispered while patting my shoulder gently. My blood boiled when I turned to walk back towards the door. I’ve spent my entire life trying to prove to everyone that I was no damn princess, but that name kept following me around like shit stuck to my shoe. Many women in my world would love that title. To me, though, it represented weakness. I couldn’t afford to be associated with weakness.

  When the guard opened the door, the bright light blinded me. I blinked quickly to get my bearings. Shielding my eyes with my hand, I looked around until I spotted the familiar, red ’56 Chevy with the white flames painted on the front hood. More importantly, I spotted the woman standing next to it, Casey.

  “Well don’t you have a shit-eating grin on your face.” Casey’s smile was one of the most beautiful I’d ever seen on a woman. With her golden locks and flawless figure, she could get anyone she wanted, whenever she wanted, but damn if she used it to her advantage. Casey and I have been friends since we were kids, growing up at the club, right alongside each other. Her dad, Bam, was a patched member, who died a few years ago.

  We’ve experienced everything together. She was my ultimate partner in crime and damn did I miss her. Grabbing her face between my hands, I stared into her emerald eyes before kissing her full on the lips. They tasted like cherries, reminding me of the little things that I’ve missed. Then I moved and kissed her once on each cheek.

  “Well, hello to you too, girl.” She laughed at my gesture and wrapped her arms tightly around me squeezing the ever-loving shit out of me.

  Stepping back, “I just missed ya, babe. Get me the hell out of here.” Throwing open the car door; I hopped into the beautiful piece of machinery. The sleek car was the ultimate ride, a classic. In our world, it was called a cage, since anything that isn’t a motorcycle was considered just that.

  Casey’s father helped her fix it up at the shop, spending hours and hours perfecting it. He taught her everything that she’d ever have to know about fixing cars and bikes. When her father died, this car was the only connection to him she had. She treasured it more than anything on this planet and took care of it like she was loving her child.

  Casey worked at the shop, Banner Automotive, attached to the Club. She may be beautiful and girly, but give her a wrench and an engine, and she was all over it. Not to mention, I’ve been told the guys really like the tight-ass jeans she wears. Men are so damn predictable.

  “Sure thing, you ready to get that mop tamed?” Casey’s eyes travelled over my ugly, stringy, brassy brown hair. I knew I looked like shit, which was why it was the first order of business.

  “Absolutely.”

  After three hours in the chair, chatting it up with Cam while she worked her magic on my hair, I felt like a new woman. My dark brown hair was back in place with the bright streaks of red, just like I liked it. Instead of stringy, it was soft and silky. The natural wave was always a plus. Keeping it long in jail was a feat I never wanted to repeat. Just because my Pops had guys on the payroll, didn’t mean that things were handed to me. I had to earn it, and damn it if I didn’t. Not that I ever wanted to relive any of that again.

  The drive to our place was quick, and I couldn’t wait to get the hell out of these prison clothes. I needed to get the stench of that place off of me. Wrapping my hair up, I jumped in the shower letting the water wash away the two previous years of hell. After turning into a prune, I exited getting myself together quickly. I found my favorite pair of jeans with the thousands of holes in all the right places and my tight, black Harley t-shirt. After a bit of makeup, I was ready to go see my family.

  Walking into the living room, Casey was flopped on the couch with the remote in her hand, thumbing endlessly through the channels. “Where is she?” I asked, wanting my girl back.

  “Come on.” Casey got up and headed towards her room, with me following closely behind. She dug through her closet, pulling out a locked box. Casey walked the box over to her dresser and placed it softly on the top. She rummaged through her top drawer, pulling out keys and unlocking the box.

  Sitting inside was my girl. 9mm’s of power that fit the palm of my hand perfectly. I learned how to shoot with this gun. My dad gave it to me when I was fourteen, and I never leave home without her.

  Feeling the weight in my hand, I thumbed the beautiful piece of metal, feeling happy and at peace. I always felt protected when this was with me. It’s one of the things that kept me alive for this long. Not only am I fast, but I am a great shot. Two years was a long time with no practice, though. I needed to get to the firing range and shoot off some rounds.

  Checking my gun, I made sure the bullet chamber was fully loaded. I locked the safety, gave it a soft kiss, and placed it underneath my shirt in a small holster on my back.

  Casey wrapped her arms around me, hugging me tightly, which I returned. “I’m so glad you’re back,” she whispered softly in my ear.

  “Me too. Let’s go see the boys.”

  I pulled away staring into her eyes. She was the one person that I knew would always have my back no matter what. “Let’s go.” She smiled, pulling my arm through the door.

  Driving through the streets of Sumner, Georgia, everything seemed exactly the same as before I left. The same shops and banks lined the center of town with people walking through the streets without a care in the world. They were free, just like I was, and how I was going to stay.

  Good people lived here. They were honest people; well, for the most part. When the outsiders came in, that’s when we had problems.

  Unfortunately, I’ve been kept in the dark about most of what was going on with the club. When Ma came to visit, she never discussed the brothers, and I never asked. People were always listening to us, and neither of us could risk it. I didn’t know the good or the bad of what was going on, and I felt quite lost. Ma would only say that my family loved me. I knew that.

  What I didn’t know was what I would walk into once I got to the shop and the club. It was a bit unnerving, but I couldn’t let that show. I’d never show any weakness… ever.

  Pulling up to the locked gates with barbed wire lacing the top, the smile that was plastered on my face was irreversible. I was finally home.

  A man I’d never seen before, wearing a Prospect rag, came to the side of the window. “Hey, Casey. You working today?”

  Smiling widely at him, she reached over and grabbed my hand, squeezing it tightly. He was pretty hot for a newbie Prospect. His dark hair hung low covering his ears, but not quite down to his shoulders. His brown eyes were the color of chocolate, matching the smoothness of his voice. His nose looked like it had taken one too many beatings over the years and hadn’t been set quite right. He had a very hot, dangerous persona.

  Squeezing Casey’s hand back to let her know I understood his hotness, she finally spoke. “Hey, Tug. I brought Harlow home.”

  Tug looked me up and down, eyeing me. “Get a good look there, Bud,” I said with my signature smirk that I knew would make him putty in my hands.

  “Sure thing, Sweetheart. So you’re the famous Princess, huh?” Rolling my eyes, I turned to face the windshield already done with the conversation. Spending your entire life trying to prove something wrong was exhausting, and I knew everyone here would be calling me that word.

  “Let’s go,” I said, snapping my fingers in
front of me, pointing to the gate.

  “Your Pops is real excited to see ya, but they’re in church. They’ll be out soon.” Tug turned to the gate, throwing the switch to unlock the steel doors. They began to move, opening wide.

  When the gates spread, I took in the view. To the left was the shop, Banner Automotive. This was one of the businesses the Ravage MC owned that did really well, not to mention they all needed some place to work on their bikes. My mom worked there doing the books and handling all the clients that came in and out through another entrance, opposite of where all the guys come in. She’d been doing it since I was a kid. I spent a lot of time in that office with Ma. My eyes scanned to the members and Prospect only parking to the right. One parking spot after the other and I could name the owners of almost every one of them. That’s how I knew there were five new guys, either patched in or Prospects.

  Casey parked the car in front of the shop doors and killed the engine. Walking in, it actually felt eerie. I didn’t recognize anyone, but they all said hi to Casey. I should have expected a new crew of workers; they rotated quite often. Club business was kept separate from the shop. I could feel their eyes boring into me, but I kept my eyes trained on the back door. I wanted to see my man.

  “Ma’am, you can’t go back there!” one of the guys called out.

  “The hell I can’t.” I began marching towards the door, knowing that my own personal heaven was on the other side. I had to see him. I had to feel him between my thighs. One of the guys grabbed my arm, turning me to look at him square in the eyes. He was pretty cute, in that rough-mechanic-having-my-hands-dirty-all-the-time, kind of a way. His blonde hair was cut very short, and his green eyes were the color of leaves.

  If I wasn’t so pissed that he actually put his hands on me, I might have been really attracted to him, but right now, I was livid.