Knuckles dragon riders m.., p.1
Knuckles (Dragon Riders MC Book 4), page 1
Knuckles
Dragon Riders MC #4
Savannah Rylan
Copyright © 2020 by Savannah Rylan
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Contents
1. Knuckles
2. Simone
3. Knuckles
4. Simone
5. Knuckles
6. Simone
7. Knuckles
8. Simone
9. Knuckles
10. Simone
11. Knuckles
12. Simone
13. Knuckles
14. Simone
15. Knuckles
16. Simone
17. Knuckles
18. Simone
19. Knuckles
20. Simone
Sneak Peak at Sly
More Books by Savannah Rylan
About the Author
1
Knuckles
I fucking hate packing.
I smoothed my black t-shirt out on my comforter before I reached for a pair of socks. I rolled them down, tightening them into a cylinder shape before laying them horizontally across the front of the shirt. I reached for a pair of jeans and spread them out, making sure there were no wrinkles as I smoothed it out beside my shirt and socks. And after plucking a pair of boxer briefs from my pile of clothes, I folded them up and placed them on top of the socks.
Then, I wrapped up everything into a tight cylinder before sliding it up the left pant leg of my jeans.
I can live out of one outfit, right?
After folding the jeans over and wrapping them around the articles of clothing I stuffed up the pant leg, all I had left in my hand was an oddly shaped object that wasn’t any bigger than both of my palms. I set the outfit down at the bottom of my backpack before I reached for another set of clothes, folding them up in a tight wad just like I had the first one. I did it again, and again, and then one last time.
Then, on top of the five outfits I had packed, I was able to fit my toiletry bag.
“Fucking recon,” I murmured to myself.
I wanted to be back at the bars. Tallying earnings, paying out payroll, and wiping down tables. I enjoyed the monotony of it all. The routine. It calmed my racing mind and helped me to sleep at night. All my life, I had relied heavily on routine. On schedules and time clocks to keep me focused and organized. I hated being ripped away from my foundation. I didn’t like stepping outside of those bars I had been charged to run early on in my tenure with this crew.
Now, I had to go do some bullshit recon road trip? By myself?
Fuck this.
I zipped my bag closed and hoisted it onto my back. I cracked my neck as I jumped around, feeling the excess space still jostling things a bit too much. I needed that backpack to be one big lump on my back. No shifting of weight needed to occur, not on a ride like this. Because if I was made and had to get away? Shifting weight was sometimes the only difference between getting away and getting caught in a ditch while being surrounded.
Ask me how I knew.
I slid my backpack off and started for my kitchen. I tore open the pantry and stuffed things like snacks and bottles of water into my pack. The more I could take with me, the less I had to stop and eat. Which meant more time to recon and less time filling my stomach. Which was massive, by the way. Not physically, but damn it, even I knew I could put away too much food at once.
Still, once all of this food was gone, my shifting weight issue wouldn’t be solved.
“Whatever. You live and you learn,” I murmured.
After nearly escaping with my life, I was about to be thrown back into the mire. Into the thick of it. Into the darkness that was the Golden Jags and this bullshit sex trafficking ring they were determined to run out of our city. They had another thing coming, though. This was our town. Our part of the country. And if that jerk-off thought for one second that he could come in and use our resources while trafficking our women in our hometown, he had another thing coming.
In the form of a rocket aimed at his head, if that was what it took.
All of the research Bowser and Link had done on this dredged up information that made me sick to my stomach. Not only had the Golden Jags sold off that motel space they were in, they had picked up a property just on the outskirts of town. Just inside city limits, as if to throw his middle finger in each of our faces. We all knew damn good and well that was where he’d try striking up his activities again. Especially after almost being busted at the park.
It took us damn near two months to stay low. But now that we were sure he was set up in that warehouse, it was time to do recon.
Enter, my dumb ass trip.
At this point, though, we weren’t trying to bring him in. We weren’t looking for answers to questions or anything like that. At this point? The Dragon Riders were ready to hunt him down. Our orders were to take him out, by any means necessary, and that brought a shiver of delight down my spine. That meant I’d get to be creative. That meant I’d finally get to flex the muscle that got me into this damn crew in the first place.
For once, my love of playing with my food would be of use.
It was the only reason why I agreed to this recon in the first place. Not like I had a choice in the matter, but I still tried to rationalize it to myself. To make myself okay with it. And the only reason I had was the fact that if I found myself face to face with Skeleton? I had permission to do whatever I wanted.
And oh, did I have ideas for when I strapped that fucker to a table.
Plus, things were really tense in the bar. And the clubhouse? Forget it. I didn’t even go there if I didn’t have to. Granted, the bar had practically taken over the role of our clubhouse. But every once in a while, we’d peek our heads into that place. Have a quiet cup of coffee and brood in silence.
I hated brooding in silence.
Such a waste of energy.
As I stood in the middle of my living room in the run-down house I purchased for myself, I sighed. I’d been living in this shack at the end of my block for two years now. And in those two years, I had drawn up schematics for how I’d redo this place. Walls I’d knock out. Flooring I’d put down with my own two hands. And absolutely none of it had gotten done. The brown water spots on the ceiling kept slowly growing. The leak in the kitchen sink bothered me at first, but was now the only thing that lulled me to sleep. The stairs going up to the second floor creaked and groaned with my weight every time I walked upstairs, not to mention the cracking hardwood that practically cried out for a bit of moisture to come its way.
This house needed a complete overhaul.
Yet, I never found the time to start.
“Maybe after this recon,” I sighed.
Then, I turned and headed for the front door.
With my keys in my hand, I walked out to my bike. A horn on a child’s bike honked as it rode past, and I looked up long enough to see Miss Alistair’s daughter peddling as hard as she could down the block. I grinned as I watched the little girl ride away, booking it for her mother’s porch. For as long as I’d been here, Miss Alistair had been here longer. And the first person to ever greet me to the neighborhood was that sweet daughter of hers.
Seven now, I think she was.
“Hey there, Kay!”
I looked up and found the young single mother waving at me from her porch.
“Miss Alistair,” I said as I waved back.
“Going on a road trip!?”
I nodded. “Something like that.”
Her daughter stopped peddling. “Morning, Mr. Knuckles, sir!”
I grinned. “Morning, Miss Katie.”
And as I watched that sweet, innocent little girl take off back toward her mother once more, a loneliness settled like lead in my gut.
Don’t even go there.
I shook my head and focused my eyes back onto my bike. I had a job to do and a promise to keep in the process. Bowser made me promise not to come back until I had steady evidence that Skeleton and his pals were at that warehouse. I promised Link I’d clock their movements over the course of a few days, picking out their favorite places to go and where they went to get food. But I also made a promise to myself.
And it was a promise I couldn't default on any longer.
After, Knuckles. After the journey.
I tossed my keys into the air and caught them in the palm of my hand. As I made my way to my bike, I prepared myself mentally for the journey ahead. I already had the motel picked out that I’d stay at. I already had an I.D. in my hand to help me check in without raising flags. All I had to do was what I did best.
I had to sit back and watch.
With my backpack over my shoulders and my leg tossed over my bike, I slid the keys into the ignition. Miss Katie clapped with delight off in the distance as I cranked up the engine. It killed me every time I heard the noise. I had to bury the smile that threatened to cross my cheeks. No matter how many times I did it, Miss Katie was beyond thrilled to hear the roar of my engine.
It made me briefly wonder if my daughter would be as thrilled with the noise.
“Well, well, well. I never thought I’d track you down.”
The hairs on the nape of my neck tingled as my eyes fo
Pointed, hearty, and sassy as hell, the first thing I saw were legs. Long, tanned legs that bled up into a soft pair of hips. The dip of the waist only stopped my heart as the body of this familiar figure took form. And as the engine of my bike hummed between my legs, I caught a glimpse of the fabulous rack this woman had jutted out.
It wasn’t until I found her baby blue doe eyes staring back at me that my suspicions were confirmed.
“Simone?” I asked.
She grinned. “Justin Oberre. It’s taken me a while to track you down.”
And as she walked up to me, her graceful hips swaying softly with every step, I lost myself in those bright blue eyes. I lost myself in the loving familiarity of her voice. I lost myself in the scent of her perfume as her heels clicked in my direction.
I hadn’t seen my foster sister in years.
So, what the hell was she doing tracking me down?
2
Simone
I had my cab driver drop me off down the block so I could walk up to his house. But the closer I got to it, the more I wondered if it was abandoned. The place was pretty shabby on the outside. The white vinyl siding needed to be pressure-washed in a bad way. Some of the shingles on the rooftop had been torn away, possibly by a storm. The concrete driveway was cracked to all hell, with weeds growing up and taking over. Not to mention, the front lawn was covered in clovers.
The telltale sign of weed intrusion.
I saw him when he came out of his house and I stopped. That leather jacket pulled tautly over his broad shoulders. His dark-wash jeans clinging to those long legs he’d always had. He was so grown up, stacked with muscles he lacked greatly as a child. And when he waved to that little girl and her mother from his porch, it melted my heart a bit.
Justin always did have a heart of gold stuffed down in that black soul of his.
I drew in a deep breath and steeled myself, though. Even though I was panicking on the inside, I had to keep up appearances. I couldn’t simply rush up to Justin and start blabbering on about my problems. I mean we hadn’t seen one another since we both went off to college.
Well, I went off to college.
After our foster parents kicked us out when we were eighteen because they couldn't collect checks any longer, I applied to every scholarship I could. I scraped money by and ended up at a community college a couple of hours away, studying medical transcription, of all things. I enjoyed the idea of working from home and never having to abide by traditional work hours. I enjoyed the idea of having a home office and being able to take extra-long lunch breaks if I so chose.
Life didn’t always pan out the way we wanted, though.
And now, I needed Justin’s help.
So, with a grin on my face, I swayed my hips and rolled my shoulders back. Trying to portray a type of confidence I hadn’t had for years.
“Justin Oberre. It’s taken me a while to track you down.”
When his eyes met mine, my heart stilled. Damn it, those eyes of his had always gotten to me. Brooding, with a soft inner part that always weakened my knees. My heels felt a bit too high in that moment. My heart slammed a little too hard against my chest. It had been years since I’d looked into the eyes of my foster brother, and I didn’t want the moment to end.
I had missed him ever since that fight he had with our foster parents.
“I kept all of those postcards, you know,” I said.
But still, all he did was stare at me.
“You know, the ones you sent me whenever you were on the road?”
And yet again, all he did was stare.
“Aren’t you gonna say something?” I asked.
He let the backpack on his back slide all the way down to the ground. “Simone.”
I smiled. “You’ve already said that, Hoss.”
His eye twitched. “Don’t call me that.”
“So, I see you aren’t on speaking terms with our parents, either.”
His eyes raked down my body. “How the hell did you find me?”
His question caught me off-guard, because it implied that he didn’t want to be found. Was he in trouble, too? I found myself unable to answer his question, but mostly because I couldn't believe how much Justin had changed. Sure, that look in his eye was the same. But he really had filled out well. Arms, chiseled, which I could tell even beneath his leather jacket. His thighs, strong and sturdy, which I could see even behind his jeans. His jawline was more cut than I’d ever seen it, and his cheekbones threatened to cut glass.
His hair was the same, though. That disheveled black hair that always looked a bit too wind-blown for our foster mother’s tastes.
That boy could still stop me in my tracks.
Justin cleared his throat. “How did you find me, Simone?”
His hardened voice pulled me from my trance. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not excited to see me?”
He took a step toward me. “I just want to know where you got my address.”
“I’ve been looking for you for a while. Dug myself into debt hiring an investigator. He said you parked yourself at this address a little while back and hadn’t moved since. So, I came to check it out for myself.”
He blinked. “You hired a P.I. to find me? Why?”
“Maybe I’ve missed my older brother. What’s wrong with that?”
He narrowed his eyes. “That’s not why you’re here.”
“What are you, some sort of mind-reader?”
“Something like that.”
His eyes slid down my body again, though I got the sneaking suspicion he wasn’t checking me out. Which came with a twinge of disappointment, I had to admit.
“Simone,” Justin said again.
I grinned. “Always did like that hard twinge in your voice.”
He closed the distance between us quickly. “Tell me why you’re here.”
His body heat seized my gut. The smell of his cologne gave me pause. I closed my eyes and swallowed hard, trying to push away the scent of oak and fresh waters that clung to his skin. Justin had always been my protector. My safe place to fall when we were growing up. He had always been there to listen with an unbiased ear before giving such plainly clear advice it was almost comical sometimes.
I needed his help now.
But that required me to suck down my pride.
“Simone!” he exclaimed.
I jumped. “I need your help, I’m sorry!”
My eyes fell to my feet before a finger crooked beneath my chin. And when our skin connected, a shiver worked its way up my spine. He slowly lifted my head until our eyes met, and instead of being met with anger like I had seen in my foster parent’s eyes my entire life, I was met with kindness.
And worry.
“Never look down. It’s beneath you,” he said.
I nodded. “Okay.”
His finger fell away from my chin. “What’s happened?”
“Have I caught you at a bad time? It looks like you’re going somewhere.”
“It’s not anything that can’t wait for a few minutes. What do you need help with?”
I snickered. “I was actually hoping I could schmooze you over a lunch or something first.”
He shook his head. “Can’t do that.”
I nodded. “Right, right.”
“So?”
I sighed. “It’s going to take a bit more time than just a few minutes to get out what I need to get out.”
Then finally, the shadow of a grin pierced his cheeks. “Still thinking things are more complicated than they really are?”
I swallowed down the bile working its way up my throat. “Yeah, well. Let’s just say I’ve really done it this time.”
His face hardened. “Someone has you scared.”
“A lot of things have me scared right now.”
“Like?”
I shook my head. “People. Places. My future.”
He paused. “Right, right.”
