What if…Bound by Family Edition

Ryan Michele

Contents

Title

1. Cooper

2. Bristyl

Ryan’s Thoughts

What if …? Bound by Family Edition

What if things went down different at Schooners Bar with Tommy? What if Ravage never got to Bristyl and Leah?

Find out…

One

Cooper

We follow Pops into the parking lot of a place called Schooners Bar, off the main highway. I take note of the five bikes in the parking lot, three trucks, and two cars. There’s a wide-open space around the blue-tinted block building; therefore, no surprises.

Tug and Buzz break off, Ryker following them. They’re going around the building to make sure it’s secure. We may not have a threat, but we take our safety very seriously.

Surprisingly, none of the ol’ ladies wanted to come with us on this trip. It shocked me because my mother is always up for an adventure, but she said she had shit to deal with at X.

Pops parks his bike, and we follow suit, making a row of steel machines in front of the bar. Then I reach around my back and make sure my gun is holstered. Even with a conceal and carry license, it’s not smart for a man with a cut on his back to be found with a gun, but I refuse to be without. The metal has been checked and is totally clean, just in case something goes wrong.

“Let’s do this. Florida is calling,” Pops says after Rhys gives him the all-clear, then strolls into the place. He’s as confident as ever, but the small twitch in his cheek is leading me more to my conclusion that he’s about done.

The inside is dark, so I remove my shades to see clearly. It’s a typical dive bar that looks like it should have been shut down years ago, yet somehow, they keep it afloat. There’s a large bar to the left, and a wide-open space to the right. There are two doors. One has a window and looks like it leads to the kitchen area. The other door, I assume, is a bathroom. I’ve learned never to assume. Find out facts. Facts, you can deal with. Assumptions, you can’t.

Tommy sits in the corner of the bar. His hair has a comb-over that looks like it’s been fucking teased by a brush. It seems he’s having a hard time with getting older and losing his hair. Three other men sit around him. Sizing them up, they have bulk, but numbers alone have us on top.

“Tommy,” Pops greets, strolling up to the table.

Tommy rises and holds out his hand. “Pops and the Ravage boys.”

His other men stand, and we all shake.

“Nice of ya ta stop by,” Tommy says.

With the vehicles in the lot, I clock there are ten, maybe more, if they had passengers. A lone bartender is behind the bar so that would be five people. Two older men sit at poker machines, slipping coins into the slot. That’s seven. There are at least three more.

I grab my father’s attention and angle my head to the left.

“Just gonna check things out,” Pops says when Tommy looks over at me as I move to the kitchen door.

“What, don’t trust me?” he says on a laugh.

“Only men I trust are the ones at my back,” Pops replies as I make my way to the door with the window.

Peering in, I see one older male with a pot belly stirring something in a pot. That leaves two guys unaccounted for.

Entering the space, the older man’s head pops up. “Can I help you?”

“Who else is back here with you?”

“Who the fuck are you?” he retorts.

Not wanting to pull my gun out just yet, I say, “I’m just checkin’ shit out. Need to know if anyone’s back here with you.”

“And I don’t give a fuck.”

Having enough of the man’s shit—hell, I gave him more chances than most guys would—I pull out my gun and point it at him. “See this, motherfucker? Tell me who’s back here with you.”

He drops the ladle into the pot and puts his hands up in the air. “Now, now, calm down.”

“Don’t fuckin’ tell me what I don’t want to hear. Answer the damn question.”

“Brother?” I hear Ryker behind me as he steps into the room. “Everything okay in here?”

“We got at least two people unaccounted for, judging from the vehicles outside. Trying to get Boiler Bob here to tell me if there’s anyone back here, but I guess we’re gonna have to check the coolers.”

“You don’t need to do that,” Boiler Bob says, looking at the deep freezer that could totally hold a person inside. What the ever-loving fuck?

Ryker steps toward the freezer while I keep my eye on the guy. Gun extended, he opens it. “Fucking hell!” Ryker jumps back.

When he doesn’t talk, I ask, “What?”

“You, stomach on the floor,” Ryker orders instead of answering me.

The pudgy man slowly makes his way down to the floor. Only then does Ryker address me.

“Fucking women in here, brother. In bras and panties, fuckin’ freezin’ together.”

“What?”

Darting to the freezer, I find several fearful eyes staring back at me.

“Come on out of there.”

Every single one of them shakes their head. Tommy did a number on these women. Fuck.

“What the hell have we gotten ourselves into?”

“Fuck if I know, brother, but we need to figure shit out and now.” Ryker checks the cook who comes up clean, but the damn knives are too close and the damn zip ties are on my bike.

Pulling out my cell, I type a text to Jacks and Green, not wanting to alert the people out in the other room just yet.

“Ladies, it’s really cold in there. I want you to step out here where it’s warm, please.”

Each one’s body shakes in some way and blue tinges their lips. How fucking long have they been in here? Some have bruises on their bodies, more on their thighs and stomach. One has track marks in her arm. Each one of them looks as if they were beautiful at one time, but life dealt them a shit hand.

Ravage isn’t one to go into someone else’s business, except when that business is laid in front of us, like when we’re supposed to do dealings with Tommy and those dealings could be impacted by this shit.

The doors open as Jacks and Green come in.

“What the fuck’s goin’ on?” Green asks, staring at the cook on the floor.

I nod to Jacks. “Need you to go to my bike and get the zip ties. Tie this motherfucker up; we got bigger shit to deal with.”

Jacks looks back and forth, then runs out the door.

Crooking my finger to Green, he comes then takes a step back when he sees the women. “Why the fuck are they in the freezer?”

I slap him on the shoulder. “Brother, if I knew that, I wouldn’t have called your ass in here. They’re scared as hell and won’t come out.”

Green is damn good at handling shit like this. He has a soft spot, but don’t cross him or you’ll be sorry.

“Ladies.” He smiles at them, putting on his charm. “I know you’re scared. Fuck, I would be too, being locked in a fuckin’ freezer. But we gotta get you warm before you start losing limbs. You don’t want your fingers to freeze off, do you?”

Standing off to the side, I can see the women shaking their heads, but still not moving. Fuck. I should just go in there, throw them over my damn shoulder and pull them out. Not that I would; they’re like timid, little mice.

Jacks comes in and secures the cook, so at least we don’t have to worry about him.

“What the hell is this shit?” Jacks asks, taking in the scene when he’s done.

“Explain in a minute.” No way in hell I want to freak these girls out any more than they already are.

He backs off.

“How about this?” Green starts. “You come out here, and I’ll get you some clothes and coffee. If you want to go back in after, you can.” Green stays utterly calm and patient through the whole ordeal, never once losing his cool. This is what draws people in to him. It’s his secret weapon, and he uses it readily.

Seconds tick by into minutes as the girls look from one to the other. A brunette in the far back then takes a step forward, arms crossed over her chest and hesitation in her eyes. It takes her a good minute, but then she walks out of the freezer, her steps shaky.

Jacks reaches over and grabs a coat from a rack, probably the cook’s, and hands it to the girl. When she doesn’t take it, he wraps it around her shoulders, his patience obviously gone. She doesn’t shrug it off.

One down, four more to go. Fuck.

Green puts on his charm again and slowly, one by one, they come out of the cold.

Jacks can only find dish towels to give the girls, but he does start up the coffee.

Stepping into the freezer, I stop dead. “Ryker! Green! Get your asses in here.”

Footfalls come from behind me.

“We’ve entered a fuckin’ nuthouse,” Ryker says. He’s not wrong. “Isn’t that Barbino?”

Barbino is a big crime boss down here. He stays out of our business, and we stay out of his, but it’s looking like we just got in his business.

Hanging from a hook, his body is bent over so his face is up, no doubt breaking his back. Not sure that’s how he died, though, because he’s beat to hell.

“Yeah, it fuckin’ is. We need to get out of here.” I move through the room of scared women, knowing we can’t leave them, but fuck.

I charge out of the kitchen. “Cruz.” Using my father’s road name is appropriate for a meeting like this. We follow protocol.

He turns his head to see my brow raised.

Lifting my chin, he gets the point and comes over.

Tommy’s face changes, having no doubt seen the gun in my hand.

“We’ve got a big fuckin’ problem.” In hushed tones, Cruz learns everything we know from the kitchen. The change in his face from calm to irate is swift.

He turns toward Tommy. “What they fuck is Barbino’s dead body doing in your freezer? And what the fuck is up with the girls?”

Tommy leans back with a smug look on his face. His henchmen beside him pull their guns out, and I hear my brothers doing the same. This shit is going to get bloody.

“None of your business. We deal with what we gotta deal with and you leave. No connection.”

My father pulls out his gun, aiming it directly at Tommy. “Bullshit. You just put us in this. Barbino’s family is going to want revenge. That why you wanted to meet so fuckin’ bad, so you could pin this shit on us?”

Tommy grins as a loud pop goes off, smoke coming from my father’s gun. In a flash, Tommy’s laying his head on the table.

The henchmen start shooting, but my brothers and I send off shots back. Bullets fly, grunts are heard, and the two big men end up falling to the ground.

“Fuckin’ hell, this is my good shirt!” Dagger says in response to the blood dripping down his shirt from his arm. “Fuckin’ graze. Couldn’t even hit the target. Sorry piece of shit.”

“Show me,” my father commands, then looks at the bartender nodding in her direction. “Take care of her.”

After taking in the scene in the kitchen, my father rubs his hand over his face. “Fuck. I’ll call your mother. She’ll know what to do with the girls. Then we gotta figure out Barbino’s shit, because they’ll be pissed.”

He turns to the brothers. “We ain’t makin’ it to Florida.” He lifts his phone to his ear.

Part of me is pissed to miss the sunshine.

Two

Bristyl

“Don’t be pissed at me.” Whenever anyone starts a conversation off with those words, you know you’re going to be pissed at the end. It’s a red flag with a bull running toward it. It’s a lit match about to be thrown into a fire pit doused in gasoline.

“What am I going to be pissed about?”

Leah just walked in the door. Her navy shirt is cut short, exposing her midriff, and her shorts are tight, but she’s covered. One thing I love about her is she’s not over the top. Some of the women at the rally dress in bikinis or fishnet with only a small piece of tape covering their nipples. I wouldn’t want to get caught for indecent exposure or anything. My big hiccup is some men take the lack of clothes as a welcoming invitation, which no man should do.

Me, I’m super simple. Jean shorts that totally cover my ass, coming down an inch or two. They’re not loose, but I don’t have a damn camel toe or any of that crap. I went with my favorite Demon’s Wings tank with a sports bra underneath it. It is Florida, after all. And if I’m going to be dancing, I need air. Tossing on my flip flops, I’m ready to go.

“Your makeup is pretty,” she says to me as we exit the house and I lock it up.

I shrug. “I just went for a little bit of a smoky eye. Tell me what I’m pissed about?” We move to my Dodge Challenger SRT, get in, and I turn her over, making her purr like a kitten in heat. If Leah thinks she’s going to detour me, she’s sadly mistaken.

“A guy I met on that site is going to meet me there.”

The urge to slam on my brakes hits me hard, along with slapping her upside her damn head. “You’re just shitting me, right?” I try with a small bit of hope, knowing in my gut it’s worthless. I’m pissed.

“No, his name is Nick, and he’s really nice. We’ve been chatting on the dating site, and he said he’s coming to the rally this weekend. I told him I’d text him and we could meet up.”

If my grip got any tighter on the steering wheel, my strength would snap the damn thing off Hulk style.

“Is he with a club?” There have been a couple of times in my life where our family was at dinner and another club showed up wanting to talk to my father. The situation got heated when my father refused, and my brothers rose from their seats. No, my family wouldn’t like it if this guy were in another club, but why else would he be at a bike rally.

She clicks her tongue, in thought. “I don’t know. I didn’t ask him.”

“Leah, that should have been the first question. Hello, he’s coming to a rally. Yes, we have non-clubbers here, but what if …?” I let my words trail off.

What if what? I know what my father and brothers do isn’t legal, but I don’t know any details, which keeps me clean. What if this guy is an enemy or something? One of the ones that my brothers are always keeping me safe from? Maybe I’m just being a stick in the mud and need to live a little, but uneasiness prickles my skin.

“Relax. If it doesn’t work out, we go dance. It gives me an out.”

“You’re nuts,” I tell her.

“You love me.”

“Yeah, I do.”

Finding a place to park is a pain in the ass, and after hiking the mile up the hill, we finally make it to the rally.

Music from three stages blares as men and women run around, beers and cocktails in their hands. A huge sign hangs above the road, welcoming all bikers. The atmosphere is electric and pulsing with an energy you only get when coming to a testosterone-filled place like this.

Venders line up their tents with barely clothed women trying to push the latest power drink or tire brand. If you wanted to take the time to visit them all, it would take an entire day. Each one yells out at us, trying to grab our attention, but we keep on moving. No prize they have is on my list of must haves in the world.

“Drinks!” she yells out, making her way to one of the many stands. Behind them are women in bikinis with little bits of tape or fabric covering their lady bits. Tip jars sit out on the bar. These women are going to make bank judging from the hungry gazes around them. The ones who dance and put on a show will do even better. They catch the attention of the men and women, so it’s double the money.

We order drinks then head toward the stage, seeing a large sign that says “Demon’s Wings at seven p.m.”

“They’re here!” I may have given a little excited jump, but come on, this is why I came, just to see them. Well, to see Shane, that is. The other guys are hot, don’t get me wrong, but Shane, the lead singer … hot damn.

Leah looks at her phone. “I got a text. I need to meet him over at the beer tent.”

Okay, that’s vague. “Which beer tent? There’s, like, ten of them.”

“The one near the tire burnout.”

At Point, a band I’ve never heard of, comes on and begins playing. I really want to dance, but you never leave your friend alone. Going with her is a must.

“Alright, but I’m not going to be hanging around you two if you’re going to be all over each other.” I may have that code, but I will drag her away before any of that shit happens. Even as beautiful as she is, she’s meek on the guy side, with only a few ex-boyfriends. She may have other thoughts on it, but we shall see.

Making our way through the horde, I’m telling pretty much every single person I come in contact with sorry for bumping into them. The burnout is a hot place, and the bodies are deep on the ground level. The only way to see anything is if you go up into the bleachers, which have tons of open areas.

I pull Leah’s arm, motioning for her to follow me up the metal risers. She does, her eyes all over the place, looking for this Nick guy. This is a bad idea. I feel it in my gut, and the prickles are coming back to my skin.

Leah hunches down over her phone, typing away as we take a seat where we have room around us. Me, I’m watching the surroundings and smelling the distinct aroma of burnt rubber. Cheers from the onlookers are loud as a bike gets ready to burn out. Usually, they lock their front tire, then rev the engine in an attempt to burn the tire off the back of the bike. They even have tire companies here that give them free tires for doing it.

I cover my ears as the noise grows from the bike and the crowd. The air fills with smoke as the cheers get even louder. More hollers, pats on the back, and money exchanging hands after the announcer states the rider’s time.

Scanning the crowd, I don’t spot my father, brothers, or anyone from Sinisters. Regardless, it’s only a matter of time. They got back from their run yesterday, and we chatted a bit. I was surprised they never asked me about coming today. They left without a word, and so did I.

“There he is!” Leah says excitedly, hitting my arm.

Nick climbs up the bleachers, followed by two more men.

I lean into Leah. “If this is a set Bristyl up thing, I’m going to kill you.”

“Go with it. They don’t look bad.”

Internally, I scoff. The first one has an intense stare, solely focused on my best friend. There’s something behind those eyes that I don’t like one little bit. He has on jeans, a white T-shirt, and a cut, but I can’t see who he belongs to as I scan the patches.

One of the guys behind him has broad shoulders; a long, dark beard; and short, brown hair. His face is one that I’ve seen a million times. Nothing unique or different. The other guy, though, he is different. Blond hair that looks like it could use a wash and a scruff of beard. He is very tall, but built, if the definition of his arms says anything.

“Leah, you’re more beautiful than the picture,” Nick says smoothly. I want to rip his hand off as he touches her face seductively.

Leah gets all giddy from the attention, and I immediately recant my last thought, wanting to slap her over the damn head instead.

“Hi.” Her girlish tone makes me wonder where my best friend went. What the hell? A guy comes along and she’s suddenly a teenager with a crush? Seriously?

“These are my boys, Poe and Len.” He motions to them then looks at me. “And you are?”

I still don’t like the twinkle in his eye one little bit. I’ve been around too much in my life not to notice those small tells. My father taught me well. He may have shielded me from most of this life, but one can’t live in it and not see or hear things.

“This is Bristyl,” Leah happily tells them as the scary one, Poe, comes to sit by me, and way too closely, considering there is plenty of space for his ass to move down.

I study their cuts. Unlike Sinister Sons, they don’t have a patch on the front telling what club they are from, only their names with a number. This is even more unsettling.

Oh, no, this shit isn’t happening. My night is not going to be ruined because of these stupid assholes.

Poe puts his hand on my thigh like he has every right to, and I sit there, stunned for a brief moment. This man will not touch me, but if I do what I’m about to do, it could cause problems for Sinister.

“Get your hands off me,” I growl low as the asshole squeezes my thigh hard, causing a jolt of pain to slice through my leg.

My brain goes into survival mode, pulling up the things I learned over the years. I rip the guy’s hand away, and he pinches me as he leaves my leg. Then I stand up quickly and move down a riser. Unfortunately, it doesn’t give me a whole hell of a lot of distance.

“Come on, Leah; let’s go,” I tell my best friend, whose eyes are round in surprise. “Now,” I bark.

She gets up, and Nick grabs her arm, pulling her back down to the seat. She struggles to get loose.

“Let me go,” she cries as I reach up to grab her. As I do, Poe wraps his arm around my waist, and I pop him good in the shin with my foot. I feel it, too, only having flip flops on, but it’s enough for him to loosen his hold on me to squirm away.

Nick stands. “Bitch, don’t you know who we are?” As he grips Leah’s arm hard, tears spring to her eyes. She hasn’t grown up in this life, has only been my friend. This is going to get so much worse before it gets better if I don’t get us out of this mess.

“I don’t have a clue who you are. Now let go of her, and we’ll go our way,” I try to reason. Nick isn’t having it.

“No, you’re makin’ a scene, so you’re gonna come with us nicely so we don’t get shit from anyone around us. Then I’ll show you exactly who we are.”

Fuck that.

“If I have to scream from the fucking rooftops, you better believe I will. We aren’t going anywhere with you.” I meet him head-on. Yeah, he will hurt me, but I’m not backing down, and there’s no way in hell we are going anywhere with these men.

My heart hammers in my chest, but I force myself to keep cool. Not doing so will only make things worse, as if they aren’t bad enough already.

Fuck me. Once we get out of this, I’m kicking Leah’s ass.

As Nick pulls Leah down the stairs, I have no choice but to follow as I search around for anyone I know. If they get us somewhere secluded, we’re screwed.

“Let go of her!” I’m loud, wanting everyone around me to hear. Bikers keep to themselves, but they won’t stand for someone getting hurt if they can help it.

“Shut up, bitch.”

We don’t get much attention, even though I’m trying to break out of Poe’s hold. The noise around us is too loud from the burnout.

When a burly man looks at us, Poe says, “She likes it rough.”

“I do not! He’s taking us against our will,” I tell the biker.

Poe puts on a fake smile. “Games. My girl has them in spades.”

Poe pulls me behind the bleachers where Leah is crying as Nick pins her to the ground.

Trying to break away from Poe again, he kicks my legs out from under me and I fall to the ground, the wind knocked out of me. It’s just enough time for him to get on top of me, securing me with his weight.

I fight hard.

When Len jumps in with Poe holding my arms, I know this is bad. Really, really bad.

“Fuckin’ bitch. We’ll fix ya up real nice. So nice no one will recognize you.” Poe tears the shirt away from my body, squeezing my breasts hard and painfully.

Len moves just a bit, and that’s when I see it. A gun. I only get one shot.

I need to get my arms free and reach for the gun. Right now, it’s our only hope.

Poe moves a little to the right, and I take it, lifting my knee up and connecting with his nuts. As he falls over, he knocks Len over with him. Len’s grip slacks off, and I immediately reach for the gun, aim, and shoot at Len, hitting him in the heart.

Poe gets his momentum as I scramble out from under him, which is easy since he’s taking care of his balls. Poe has his gun on me, though, and fires.

Searing pain rips through my shoulder as I pull the trigger, hitting Poe in the face, his brain matter going all over the place.

Not having time to register how gross that is, I aim at Nick who has Leah up, his hand over her mouth, and a gun to her head. Fuck. Poe shot my dominate arm. I don’t know if I can hit Nick from that far away.

Pushing myself up to sitting, I try to steady the gun. “Let her go!”

My demands go unfulfilled.

“Fuck you, you stupid cunt! I can’t believe you shot by brothers!” he rages.

Leah’s knees give out, and she falls to the ground, Nick’s grip not tight enough to hold her up. It’s my only shot. I take it, but not before Nick sends two my way.

Rolling over in the grass, Nick grunts from the first contact of the bullet, but I don’t stop. Only after the fifth shot and Nick is bleeding out on the ground do I collapse.

“What the fuck is going on here!” a man in chaps and a cut demands, storming up to us, gun raised.

Great, we probably started a huge fucking fight. Bikers aren’t known for their “let’s sit down and talk it out” way of dealing with problems. No, they kill first and ask questions later.

“Find my dad. Regg from Sinister Sons. Please.”

Recognition dawns as the guy barks orders to a couple of others I didn’t see at first. Fuck, my father is going to be pissed about this.

Ryan’s Thoughts

If this were to happen, Cooper never would have gone to Florida. He never would have been in that laundromat and had to make the phone call to his future woman. Bristyl and he would have never met. Funny how one moment in your life can change everything. One choice or decision can move your life in an entirely different direction, good or bad.

Personally, I’m glad Coper and Bristyl met in Florida, but it would have been nice to have those three assholes gone a lot sooner. Double-edged sword, I tell ya.

~Ryan