Page 3 of Liv and Ripper

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CHAPTER 2

RIPPER

Iwas born with a name most would see as a common joke—Jack Arthur Caspian, named after my grandfather. The bastard disowned me when I was sixteen, he lasted longer than my parents, though, who disowned me at twelve. At least the old prick took me in. He disowned me as soon as he saw that my lengthy criminal record was gonna get longer. And as soon as he got it erased, I was back adding to it the next day.

Call it stupid.

Or call it fucking life because that’s what it was. My life, and I’d do as I fucking pleased. Sure, defacing shit was out of boredom, but the hold up at the servos was for the rush. The carjacking was for the rush as well.

I got a thrill out of doing shit I shouldn’t be doing.

I was homeless and thought my life was a train wreck anyway. What could possibly go wrong if I join a motorcycle club? I’d have somewhere to sleep and yeah, maybe I’d add to that criminal record of mine.

I was eighteen when I went to prison for crimes for the club. Didn’t even fucking do the shit that I got blamed for. I got away with a lot of shit, so maybe that was karma. But the reason I took the hit for those crimes was because of Ol’ Dan.

Ol’ Dan was a life member of the club, and he pulled me aside when the club was being raided. Told me that if I took a hit for the crimes, then he’d make sure I never went a day without a Mayhem emblem on my back.

So as the Enforcer was about to be arrested, I coughed up and took the blame for it. Did three years and came out a fucking hero in the club’s eyes. Cause the Enforcer, Mad Andy, would have been facing ten to twelve years. Needless to say, he was more important to have in the club than some prospect.

Went in a nobody and came out a somebody.

By the time I was out of prison, I already had a reputation. Named after Jack the Ripper because of the shit I did in prison—I was very creative with a knife—my road name was Ripper. Though

I didn’t give a fuck what they called me as long as they had respect in their voice when they said it.

Respect. That was what the club taught me. Respect women. Respect the club, and at all times, respect the Mayhem club rules.

Number one being don’t fuck a member’s daughter.

I killed the engine as I pulled into the back entrance of the club lot, and watched as Maiden walked toward me with a smirk on his face. The man never smirked, unless he found a target for the night—a woman he wanted to fuck. .

“Who is she?” I shouted at him, and his expression dropped. I smirked in response. I had busted him.

He swiftly changed the subject. “How was the silent charter?”

The silent charter was made up of wolves whose daughters hadn’t changed or didn’t know what world they were really apart of.

Hammer and Rusty ran the charter with both their daughters, who didn’t know that they really were related. Emmie was told she had schizophrenia, which in reality, was her weak connection with the main pack. Her mother must still be with the pack for Emmie to be influenced by them.

The poor girl went through life thinking she was crazy. We all knew she would have to be told one day, but Hammer never wanted that day to come.

Libby, who was Rusty’s daughter, had extreme anxiety because she didn’t realize she had a bond with her mate.

Their lives were complicated, and that was putting it nicely. Those poor girls had no idea what they were in for.

Lynx had taken an unnatural attraction toward Libby, and I knew that would be her down fall. As for Emmie, she was going to come crashing into the world when she mates. If she does, that is, because of her condition she had a block in place and it would take a hell of a strong man to break it.

“How was Emmie?” Maiden asked, and my eyebrows rose. “What? Why you looking at me like that?”

“Why you so interested in the silent charter?” I asked him a direct question, which I knew he was going to dodge. I gave him a pointed look.

“Not interested in the charter.”

I held back my scoff.

“I’m interested in Emmie.”

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