Page 26 of Breaking the Rules (Roaming Devils MC 1)

Chapter Six

It was no fucking surprise that Ryker was greeted by a pissed off crew when he got to the club. Ghost had two of the stronger members grab him and hold him while his fist made contact with Ryker’s face. It was the only fucking way he could get some punches in. He gave an uppercut to his jaw before throwing a few punches at Ryker’s stomach. Ryker spit blood to the ground and stared at the sorry bastard.

“Enough.” Razor came toward them. “What the fuck happened between you two?”

Ryker didn’t look away from Ghost. He stood there, waiting for his chance at retaliation. Ghost was a little bitch boy. It was written all over his face.

“He went to the bitch’s apartment again.”

The damn idiot was grasping at straws. “Actually, I didn’t but you don’t have enough fucking common sense to know that, bitch boy.”

Ghost punched him again and Ryker smiled. Razor stepped between them. “Go cool off,” he told Ghost. Razor turned toward him and motioned for the other members to let him go.

Ryker jerked his arms away from them and stared at his father. “Brotherhood, my ass. You had that damn asshole follow me to the drop off. I don’t need a fucking babysitter.”

“Brotherhood.” Razor rubbed his scruffy chin. “What exactly does that mean, Ryker? What have I told you all your fucking life?”

Ryker stared at him. The man before him had given him life, yet he had no reservations about forcing him to get rid of the only thing that made sense to him anymore. When he’d been a kid, his father hadn’t been around much. Ryker’s grandfather had been the president of the club and Razor his sergeant-at-arms. His father went around living whatever kind of life he wanted doing whatever the hell he wanted behind his grandfather’s back. Razor didn’t like family. He liked legacy. He wanted a kid and ended up with one. Ryker didn’t know much about his mother other than her name. Razor had taken over full responsibility for him at his birth. His grandfather had done the same, raising Razor to be the sadistic bastard he was. Razor had wanted that same fate for Ryker, a kid to carry on the Roaming Devils’ name.

“It’s family. Community. It’s about loyalty and respect.”

“And where does the doctor fit in that?” Razor met his gaze. “You disrespected me by not listening to a direct order. I told you to stay away from her and you run back to that pussy like a coke whore needing a fix.” Razor pursed his lips. “I question your loyalty, son. Before this bitch came into your life with her sad little request of us helping her daddy, you were on a fast track to becoming the leader of this chapter. Everyone in this fucking club knew that you would succeed me despite Ghost’s position. You can’t fucking do that if you got your face down in some girl’s lap.”

He shook his head. “My loyalty to this club has never been in question. I do what I need to do. What I do in my own time is my fucking business.”

Razor arched an eyebrow. “Your own time? You’re my fucking sergeant-at-arms. You have no fucking time of your own. Everything you do is for the club. It’s a reflection of the club and it is for the greater good of the club. What is the fucking hold this bitch has over you? Ever since you were a kid, you’ve been sniffing around her. There’s no place for that bullshit here. None. She’s a threat and she’s a problem. If you cannot see that, then I’m going to have to make you see that.”

The two beefy members grabbed him again. Ryker tried to get away from their grip, but he didn’t go anywhere. They tightened their hold on him to the point his arms fucking hurt from being twisted at an odd angle.

“Do it.” Razor motioned toward Ghost, who pulled out a needle.

“No.” Ryker shook his head, struggling more.

The club was no stranger to using drugs to control people. It was how they kept their women coming back for more without regard for their dignity. He’d been clean for so long. Struggled with it for so long. Tears filled his eyes as Ghost found a vein and inserted the needle.

The cold rush flowed through his veins and it felt pretty damn good. Ryker’s eyes drifted closed as his head dropped forward. The feeling was almost orgasmic. When he gagged, the beefy members let him go so that he fell facedown on the floor. The rush was the best part. It took over his body and made him feel like he was king of the fucking world.

Ryker lay there in his own personal hell. He felt too damn good to be pissed at what was happening around him. It was a fight inside him that he couldn’t control. He knew exactly what they’d injected into him and knew exactly what game they were fucking playing. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ghost filming him and vowed to slit the dickhead’s throat when he got a chance.

Sweat poured out of his body and one of the prospects brought him a bottle of water to cool him down. He stared at Ghost.

“You got what you fucking wanted. Get that damn thing out of my face.” He poured the water over his head. He’d give them the fucking show they wanted. Then he’d kill them without blinking an eye.

****

When Ella was put on-call, she hadn’t realized that meant for the ER too. For whatever reason the hospital was short staffed that night and she had to fill in for the trauma doctor that left unexpectedly in the middle of his shift. It’d been a few weeks since she’d worked in ER, but it felt like a lifetime. There was a certain pace and expectancy that came with emergency care that really kicked her butt after the fifth hour. She still had a few more to go.

“Ally, I’m going to take a break. I didn’t get any lunch and I really need to eat something before I pass out.” Ella left the ER for the restaurant within the hospital. It was a cozy little diner that had a good selection of food that tasted decent enough. She bought herself some meatloaf and a drink before she settled at one of the empty tables.

She grabbed her phone and decided to return calls. Her father had dialed her twice, asking about dinner. That was more than three hours ago. And Ryker called. She pursed her lips. The thought of him needing her again while she was working worried her. He really hadn’t looked good before and she didn’t know what the damn club made him do, but he didn’t need to be around the drugs. She clicked on his message and realized it was a video. Frowning, she pushed play.

On the screen she watched as someone injected Ryker. Then the phone was handed to another person as they filmed Ryker nearly climaxing from the shit they shoved into his veins. The video cut to another scene where he snorted a line of cocaine off a table in what looked like the club. He glanced up at the man filming him and raised his middle finger, laughing. Ella sat stunned. She watched him do another drug, injecting something into his vein. He said something about the Roaming Devils, though she couldn’t understand him, and the video ended with him pulling the tourniquet and pushing the plunger of the syringe. His eyes closed as his head dropped back, a smile stamped on his face.

Ella clicked her phone off and set it aside. She was tired and cranky. She didn’t know what kind of fucking game they were playing with her, but the man on that screen wasn’t the real Ryker. Grabbing the container her food came in, she yanked it off the table and tossed it into the trash. They knew he was weakened by whatever had happened that day. The idea that someone could do something so callous to another individual was beyond rational thinking. But it was how those monsters played. Nothing was ever what it seemed. Ryker would never send her a video of him doing drugs. Especially when he wanted her help in staying off them. She didn’t believe for one second that he did that on his own. Now more than ever he needed to get out before he ended up dead.

Mad at herself for not pressing him for more details, she went to the elevator. If she had leverage on them, then she could do something. They wanted her out of his life, she got that. They thought she was a threat. The sick bastards were the real threat. His father was the worst threat. Ella punched her father’s floor number and waited for the doors to close. Her father would know what to do about it. He’d be pissed, but he’d know what to do.

She rode the elevator to his floor and let herself in to see him. He smiled at her, his face still bruised and swollen from the beating.

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