Wild Ride (The Soldiers of Wrath MC, 7)
Wild Ride
The Soldiers of Wrath MC, 7
Sam Crescent
Jenika Snow
Contents
Copyright
Soldiers of Wrath Reading Order
Wild Ride
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Epilogue
Coming Next
About the Authors
WILD RIDE (THE SOLDIERS OF WRATH MC, 7)
By Sam Crescent and Jenika Snow
www.SamCrescent.com
www.JenikaSnow.com
Copyright © May 2017 by Sam Crescent and Jenika Snow
First E-book Publication: May 2017
Editors: Kasi Alexander / Em Petrova
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: The unauthorized reproduction, transmission, or distribution of any part of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
This literary work is fiction. Any name, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments is solely coincidental.
Please respect the author and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials that would violate the author’s rights.
Book 1: Owned by the Bastard
Book 2: Bent, Not Broken
Book 3: Hard As Steel
*The Soldiers Bonus Story (free story available on CSP website)
*Boxed set (books 1-3+ bonus story)
Book 4: Dead Bastard
Book 4.5: Ruin and Rise
Book 5: The Way I Like It
Book 6: Lost In You
Book 6.5: All or Nothin’
*Boxed Set (books 4-6.5)
Book 7: Wild Ride
Constance lost the only family she had in a fatal car accident. It also left her blind in one eye. With her life seeming like an endless, broken record, she’s never really felt she is living.
But then she meets this hardened biker, one who is so unlike anyone she’s met before. He makes her feel alive, like there’s more to life than just going through the motions.
She feels desire for him, and the things she wants him to do to her should make her blush. But all she feels is heat … so much she’s burning alive from her need.
Vengeance lives the MC life. That means he works hard and plays harder. But when he comes across a woman, this fragile, innocent female, something in him awakens.
He wants her instantly, but not just in a filthy way. He wants to protect her, keep her safe. It’s clear she’s been hurt, and not only because he knows she’s lost her family.
But when Constance starts to feel happy, loved even, she realizes someone has been watching her. They want her, and if they can’t have her they’ll make sure no one does.
Constance is strong in her own right, but it’s up to Vengeance to protect the woman he loves. It’s up to Vengeance to make sure his old lady stays by his side.
1
Vengeance stared down at the club whore who was sucking on his dick like it was her favorite lollipop. He couldn’t remember her name, and nor did he give a shit about it. All he was interested in was blowing his load right down her throat and watching as she swallowed.
“Now that is a beautiful sight,” Weasel said, entering the room.
“Her mouth is the best.” Vengeance groaned as the bitch swallowed him. He was only thinking about the feeling. As shitty as it was, she was a vessel for him to release in. Even as she was gagging she didn’t try to get away, and he just knew she was trying way too hard to impress him.
He wasn’t impressed.
His rock-hard cock started to deflate, and even Weasel took pity on him.
“Babe, he’s not interested,” Weasel said, slapping her ass. “Go and find another brother to swallow whole.”
She pouted but didn’t argue, which he was relieved about. The last thing he wanted to deal with was a moaning bitch who thought she could get what she wanted.
“Thanks.”
“No biggie. You looked done with it.”
“I was in the zone, and then as quick as fuck, I was out of it. What is it about these females that I cannot stand?” he asked.
“You’ve been spending way too much time with the old ladies, that’s what.”
Vengeance shook his head. “Nah, that’s not it at all. I don’t care what they have to say. I’m not interested in that kind of shit. You know that.”
Weasel sat down on the bed, grabbing an old porn mag and flicking through it. In the meantime, Vengeance pushed his dick back into his pants and sighed. This shit wasn’t working for him.
“I didn’t say you wanted to settle down and have an old lady of your own. The sluts just don’t do it for you. Let’s face it. Half of them want shit that you’re really not interested in giving them,” Weasel said. “We’ve seen what the good women are like.”
“There’s nothing wrong with the bitches.”
“I know, but they’re not the like the old ladies. Face it, Vengeance, that woman will have a cock balls deep inside her pussy in no time. For fuck sake, she’d be begging for the men to train her, banging her until she can’t even feel shit down there anymore.”
“What’s your point?” Vengeance asked.
“Just once wouldn’t you want a woman who you don’t know has been with thousands of other dicks before you? It’s not a big deal, I get it, and a woman is entitled to screw as many men as they want. But, some women like their men to be devoted to them. You know, not to be thinking about another woman they fucked a few years ago.”
Weasel kept on talking.
In the back of Vengeance’s mind, he had been thinking about it a lot lately. More than a lot. It was constantly on his mind. Watching the couples that had gotten together. It meant something to them, or at least, it had meaning to them.
He’d never known a woman who could settle down with him. He was a hard ass who liked living in his own way. He didn’t give a shit about anything or anyone. The club was all that mattered, and for the past thirty-plus years, it had always been that way.
Now, however, shit was changing.
He was getting old. It had to be the main reason that life just seemed … dull. Screwing club pussy held no appeal.
“You got a woman or something?” he asked.
“Or something?” Weasel chuckled. “Dude, I don’t have shit but the club and the whores that are willing to suck my dick. I mean, who in their right mind would turn down a woman who would suck cock like she’s afraid it’ll disappear?” Weasel stood up and made his way to the door.
“Why the fuck did you come in here?” Vengeance asked.
“To screw with your head, brother. It’s what I love to do.” Weasel gave him a wink and then left.
Great.
Moving toward the window overlooking the clubhouse parking lot,
Vengeance saw several club whores in different stages of undress. There was a bonfire off in the corner, and several of the guys were hanging around. There were the ones that liked to party but brought nothing in the way of fun. They simply turned up for the free booze and free pussy.
There was a time he would have lived for this shit.
When had life stopped being fun?
It was dark out by the bonfire, but the security lights were more than enough to light the grounds. The Soldiers of Wrath Clubhouse. His home, and his very life. He would give everything for his Prez. Even step in front of a bullet for him if he had to. Demon was one hell of a leader, fierce and loyal.
Vengeance’s birthday was tomorrow. He was turning the ripe old age of forty-five, and he was feeling every single one of those years.
What did he have to show for it?
Nothing.
His life had been partying, fucking, fighting, and riding the open road.
There was nothing left in his life now.
Get your head out of your fucking ass, and stop being a moaning bastard.
He turned to the door, needing to get some fresh air. He was tired of the smell of booze, stale cigarette smoke, and sex. It had its unique feel of depression about it. That’s what was wrong with him.
He was depressed. Another year older, and life was the same old shit.
Men around him were risking everything, loving life, relishing the time they spent with the women they loved and the kids they had helped create.
That was another thing. He didn’t have any kids.
Every bitch he slept with, he made sure to bag his dick up. He hadn’t wanted any consequences along the way. The only problem was now his life was completely empty, and he was having a lot of hard revelations right now.
Leaving the clubhouse was easy. Ignoring anyone who wanted to talk to him, he straddled his bike and headed right out of the clubhouse parking lot.
He didn’t care where he was going, only that all of his troubles fade away. The last thing he wanted to be thinking about was life, and what little he actually had of it. Life was not about having regrets. It was about living life to the maximum, and that was exactly what he’d done.
Constance Belling stared at the gravestone of her dead parents and her dead fiancé. They had been gone for six months now. Putting the roses on each gravestone, she stared at their names, and not for the first time wondered why the hell she had survived. She had been in the car with them when it had overturned and plunged into a lake.
Her father had a heart attack at the wheel; the shock of the accident causing his already fragile organ to fail. She had seen it happen but before any of them could react, the car had gone over the ledge and rolled down the rocky verge, smashing all the windows on the way down. There had been a piece of glass embedded in her eye, and she was now completely blind in that one because of it.
Her fiancé, Brando, had been able to save her. He’d disconnected her belt buckle and pushed her out of the broken back window. She had swum to the surface and collapsed on the edge of the water.
No one else had come up after her.
She had been found a couple of hours later, she had been told when she woke up. They had pulled her father’s car out of the water. Brando hadn’t been able to unhook his own belt. He had drowned, along with her mother.
God, a tragedy of the worst kind.
Horrible. Her engagement dinner turned into the worst night of her life.
What made it worse? She hadn’t cried, not once. Not for her father, mother, her fiancé, or even her eye.
Everything had changed, and yet, she couldn’t bring any tears.
She sat down on the path, staring at the gravestones. It was late at night, and she had a torch, which she used to light up the three people who meant everything to her.
“You’re a strange person, Constance, but I love you.”
Brando would always say that to her.
She couldn’t cry, and she had always struggled in so many situations. From the time she was a kid, she wasn’t like anyone else. They always wanted to fit in, and be like each other. She was happy to run around the school playground playing fairies. There was never a best friend for her, and she didn’t need one either.
Life just seemed so much more fun being alone.
There was no one to judge.
No disappointments.
No expectations.
Life was just what she made it, and that was fun.
Then Brando had come along. Sweet Brando. He was charming and nice. Her first and only crush, and even now she couldn’t be sure if it was so much as a crush, or just because he was the first guy who didn’t strike her as an asshole. Either way, it didn’t matter.
She touched her cheeks, expecting to find some tears, but once again, they were dry.
The sound of the main gate opening had her turning, pointing the flashlight at a dark figure.
“What the fuck? Get that shit out of my eyes.”
She moved the light and shone it on the headstone of her loved ones. “Sorry,” she said. “No one usually comes here late at night.”
“It’s probably a good thing.”
She stared at the headstone and knew it was time to leave. She had to go back home and get prepared for the rest of the weekend. Only she couldn’t bring herself to move.
She stood, the flashlight catching the man again. Constance saw his leather jacket with the logo. He was a biker, an MC member.
“Do you spend a lot of time alone in graveyards?” he asked, moving next to her and rubbing at his eyes.
“Yeah, I do. I have family here.” She pointed the light ahead of her.
“You don’t think to come during the day, when it’s safer?”
I’m standing with a complete stranger right now and it’s not awkward.
“I don’t come during the day.” She loved the darkness. When she came during the day, people watched her. She hated that. The stares. The way they were constantly trying to figure her out, as if they could. None of them had a clue about her. “I like being here at night.”
“It’s creepy.”
“Coming from the strange man who is here with me?” she asked. “That’s not creepy? Why are you here?”
“Because I want to be here. It’s quiet, peaceful even.”
A moment of silence passed.
“Who are they to you?” he asked.
Constance frowned and looked at him. She didn’t answer right away.
“I’m curious, and nosy as hell.”
She smiled. He smelled of oil and leather, and it was a strange scent, yet comforting, pleasant.
“They’re my family.” She pointed the flashlight to the headstones as she spoke. “Mom. Dad. Fiancé.”
“Damn.”
Yeah, that pretty much summed it up.
2
He shouldn’t have said anything to her, but dammit if Vengeance didn’t feel this sadness, darkness coming from her.
Vengeance knew he should have kept walking, given her the space, the privacy. But shit, even a gated cemetery wasn’t safe. He’d gotten in just fine, and that meant anyone else could too.
“What’s your name?”
She didn’t say anything for long seconds, and for a moment he thought maybe she wouldn’t. It wasn’t his fucking business anyway. Finally, she turned and faced him.
“Constance. You?”
“Vengeance.” He stared at her, the glow from the flashlight allowing him to see her face. And she had a beautiful one. There was a jagged scar along one of her eyes, and he could see it was blind by the cloudy color, but Goddamn, she was gorgeous.
Her long dark hair moved along her shoulders, the wind teasing it, kissing it. Her bone structure was delicate, sharp even. She stared at him in the way he was watching her. Maybe she was taking stock of him, as well? Maybe she was wondering why in the fuck this biker was watching her.
They sat there for long moments, neither speaking. She had him curiou
s, made him want to ask questions, get to know her more. He didn’t even know her, but fuck, he wanted to change that.
“How’d you get a name like that?”
He glanced at her and saw her already watching. Normally he would have just told her, would have just fucking spouted off the truth because he didn’t give a fuck. But a part of him wanted to lie, to make her see he wasn’t this bad guy. In the end he didn’t want to lie to her.
“Because I’m the first brother in my club to go after a fuck who had wronged someone I care about.” He looked at her, wondering what she thought, how far she’d delve into what he’d just said.
“Your club, the MC?” She gestured to his cut.
He nodded. “Yeah, my family. The Soldiers of Wrath.”
She was silent after that, looking at his cut, the patches, everything that made him part of the brotherhood.
“So what do you do to people you hunt down? Beat them? Worse?” There was no accusation in her tone, no judgment. She sounded genuinely curious.
Again, he wasn’t going to lie, even if trying to be the “good guy” might not have had her running in the other fucking direction.
“If it comes down to it, yeah.” He stared at her, but her expression showed no emotion.
“They deserved it?”
He nodded, not missing a beat.
“And you’ve killed men?” Again, no emotion, just curiosity.
“Yeah,” he said, not sure if admitting that had just scared the fuck out of her.
She didn’t know if she should run as fast as she could from this biker or give him credit for being honest. In the end she found herself still sitting beside him, curious as to what kind of man he was.
He admitted to being a killer, yet she didn’t feel fear for him, didn’t even feel like he’d hurt her. There was a lot of comfort being in his presence, admitting what and who she lost, and not shying away from him.
“What does it feel like, killing someone?” She was curious, her life so confused, so broken after what she’d lost, that touching darkness seemed like the perfect thing, the right thing.