HAWK: MC ROMANCE (Forsaken Riders MC Romance Book 5) Page 7
He coughed and tasted blood.
“Well,” he wheezed to himself. “Can’t be long now.”
He laughed and the pain shot through him even more.
He remembered what it had been like to join a club like the Forsaken Riders back in its hay day. He still remembered each and every member of the charter when he had been initiated and, even though many of them had gone since, he still loved them dearly.
A lot of blood had been shed over the years, and a lot of people have died for the club. It was almost ironic that Reid knew that he would be next. One of the oldest surviving members and head of a club that had ruled the desert for generations… Now he was going to have to hand over the baton to someone else just as deserving.
And the timing couldn’t have been worse.
He clenched his hands together and crossed them over his belly. The bed was warm and comfortable, and even though he had been confined to it for the past few months, he still felt as if he was floating on clouds. His legs were numb now from the drugs and his mouth was dry, but he didn’t mind. He’d enjoyed spending the past few weeks off the sauce. He’d needed it. It had given him the clarity required to make the decision that was going to change everything.
He knew that King was the rightful person to step in and fill his shoes. Not only had he been with the club for many years, he had proved himself time and time again as one of the most loyal and powerful men behind the Forsaken.
But now Reid had a problem…
A conflict of interest…
His daughter Lexi.
Her and King were in love, and how could he possibly promote King to head honcho when his daughter was going to get further tangled up in the messes of the brotherhood? He wanted to keep her safe and her husband by her side. He didn’t want her widowed before she had even turned thirty.
No, he thought as he stared at the ceiling. I can’t do it to her or to King. They deserve a long life together; one that has more freedom that being the head of this club requires.
He sighed heavily and closed his eyes. He knew it would cause ill feeling, but he also knew that he had to take care of the people closest to him. Even though Lexi had only been in his life for a short time, she had been the light he had been waiting for. She had illuminated the darkness that had been ahead of him and ensured that he had enjoyed his last few months.
It had looked pretty bleak after the doctor’s prognosis, but now he had a daughter to cherish and a lot of time to make up for. He had enjoyed life again and she had added a dimension to his final days that he had never, ever expected to have the opportunity to experience.
Reid wasn’t just an old time biker… now he was a father as well.
He felt tears prick the corner of his eyes and he breathed in deep. He knew it wasn’t going to be long. His body had been declining for days and all he was hanging on for now was to spend a little more time with Lexi and to make sure everything was handed over as it should be. And then he would let himself give up the fight.
He rolled onto his side and reached, laboriously, for his cellphone. He pressed the screen with shaking fingers, opened his contact list, scrolled down and then pressed dial. He held the phone to his ear and sucked in a lungful of air, preparing himself to speak for the first time in days.
The line clicked to life on the other end and he heard him say hello.
“It’s me,” Reid croaked as he struggled to keep his breath. “I need to talk with you.”
“Okay boss,” the man on the other end said. “Are you alright? What do you need?”
“I need you here now,” Reid broke off to cough and he clutched his chest. “Come back to the clubhouse as soon as you can.”
“Boss? Are you okay?”
“Just get back here dammit,” Reid spluttered before he burst into a coughing fit and had to end the call.
It was a sad state of affairs when a man like him was as weak as he was now… But that was life. He had seen it happen to people around him for decades and now it had just rolled around to his turn.
He dropped the cellphone down by his side and it bounced lamely to the floor. He clutched his chest again and breathed in as far as he could. He could feel the fluid on his lungs and the darkness creeping in towards him again. He had to push it back. He had to keep going. Just a little longer.
He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself down. He had made the right decision on who he had chosen to take over from him. He knew he needed someone with strength. Someone ruthless and loyal, a man who had been rising through the ranks but who had so far gone rather unnoticed. Reid knew that it may cause controversy, but he was no stranger to that. Being the head of a lawless bike gang for the past ten years had meant he had seen a lot of that in his time.
Now he had to make one final change and then his work would be done. He knew that he would have taken care of The Forsaken Riders, his daughter Lexi and her future, and of the young biker who had caught his eye and showed promise that he could run it all after Reid was long gone.
He waited and closed his eyes, he could hear the rumble of juggernauts powering down the highway out across the desert and the sound of laughter drifting up from the garages below, outside next to the clubhouse. These were the sounds he would miss the most. Ones that always reminded him of home. He drifted in and out of sleep for a few moments until the snap and bang of the front door jolted him back awake.
He heard the heavy boots coming up the stairs and the jangling of chains. That was one of the things Reid liked about his intended successor the most, he was so big and brutal, that you could always hear him coming.
The footsteps stopped outside of Reid’s bedroom door and there was a low rasping knock.
“Come in,” Reid croaked as he pushed himself up on his elbows, with the last tiny amount of strength he had left.
The door opened slowly and he stepped inside. His thick wavy black hair was hanging down to the tops of his shoulders and his big thick, muscular arms rippled out of the tight t-shirt he was wearing. As he stepped through the doorway, he just about blocked out all natural light with his huge, hulking frame and Reid smiled.
This son of a bitch was just the powerhouse that The Forsaken Riders needed to make sure the club thrived and triumphed over Ironhill and the Iron Riders.
Bull.
He had come to Reid as a crazy kid and now he was definitely a man who had learned at the feet of the best.
“You called for me boss?” Bull said gruffly as he strode over to Reid’s bedside and stood in front of him. Even now, after all of the years they had grown to know each other, Reid was still intimidated by him and the way he was so big and tall it was almost as if he was a giant. Bull had been part of the Forsaken’s main muscle for years and he had quietly proved to Reid that he could take care of business and be a natural leader.
“I did,” Reid croaked as he coughed and tasted blood again.
“Boss?” Bull kneeled down and passed him a glass of water from the nightstand. Reid’s hands were so unsteady he couldn’t grasp it and Bull had to lift the water to his lips.
“Thank you,” he stammered. “Bull, I don’t have much time…”
Bull’s eyes were deep and wet as he looked down at the man who had been a better father to him than his own old man ever had. He took hold of Reid’s small bony hand, in his big rough ones and squeezed it tight.
“I need to ask you something,” Reid stammered.
“Anything,” Bull said with an open heart.
“It has to be you Bull…” Reid continued, “You’re the one who has to take over everything, after I’m gone.”
Bull faltered. Had he really just heard what he thought he had? He looked down at Reid, a bag of bones lying swamped by blankets, and at the urgency in his eyes. He knew that he wasn’t the kind of man to joke around, especially when it came to the affairs of the club.
“But…?” Bull asked. “Me?”
“You,” Reid said before his chest tightened and he coughed ag
ain. “It has to be you Bull…”
Bull nodded. He would do anything for the club, and especially for Reid. He just hadn’t been expecting to be given such an honor. He knew that King had been everyone’s first choice as next in line. And he didn’t know what to think about what may come of this now…
“Of course I will,” he said as he held onto Reid’s hand tightly. “My dedication to this club is everything to me. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do.”
Reid gripped his hand tightly back.
“Make sure the Iron Riders burn in hell,” he said before he doubled over and coughed up a splatter of blood onto the wooden floorboards.
“Boss,” Bull said as he pulled him up and laid him back down in bed.
He was so worried, he could see it in Reid’s face that he wouldn’t be much longer for this world. And now he had been given the ultimate honor, but also the ultimate responsibility.
Reid’s breathing became labored and Bull’s mind began to race. He got to his feet quickly and stomped to the doorway where he hollered down the hall.
“Lexi!” he called. “You better get in here!”
He heard her tiny footsteps come clipping up the stairs and she rushed around the doorframe panting and with hair in her eyes.
“Dad?” she wailed as she ran across the room and flung herself down at Reid’s side.
Reid looked up at her and smiled. She really was his guardian angel. He took her hand in his and he took her in once last time. If he had done anything right in his life, it had been her. She was his most special creation.
“I love you Lexi,” he whispered. “I always have and I always will.”
“Dad?” she sobbed, the realization of what was about to happen flooding her face.
“Bull is going to look after you all now,” Reid nodded. “Make sure you support him.”
Lexi looked over her shoulder at Bull, the tears streaming down her face and then she looked back to Reid. He had closed his eyes but he was still breathing, each breath becoming shallower.
As he lay there dying, Lexi clung to her father and sobbed. She had only known him a short time but he had been everything she had ever hoped for and more.
If there was one thing she knew, life without him for both her and The Forsaken Riders would never be the same.
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The Highland’s Call
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Table of Contents
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 1
Andrea clutched the small stone in the palm of her hand. It felt cool and smooth and somehow strangely comforting. Her Grandmother Betty had insisted that her only granddaughter be given this small artifact on her death. That had happened over a week ago, as Andrea was driving through New York. It was almost as if she knew. An image of her beloved Gran had flitted through her mind at the exact moment she took her last breath.
Betty was her father's mother. Her dad Joe had died a few years ago and her mother Pat had remarried. She had never approved of her stepdad, Pete; he could never replace her beloved father.
Perhaps she was being unfair, but she had always sided with her dad against her mum, and now the two women seemed poles apart, no longer able to communicate with each other. Pat didn’t even attend the funeral. Not that Betty would have minded. She had never approved of the union in the first place.
Andrea had inherited her Grandma's creative talents and she had been close to Betty when she was a child, closer than to her own mother, but after college she had been offered a three-year contract with a major advertising company in New York, and it had been too good an opportunity to turn down. Betty had understood that she needed to fly the nest. She had been a young woman once, although that seemed such a long time ago.
Andrea had only seen her Gran when she flew home for Christmas and important family occasions. Then she had met Steve and her life in the US seemed to take on a more permanent footing, until the death of her Grandma had made her suddenly homesick for the English countryside. She loved the buzz and fast-paced life of New York but now longed for some peace and time to reflect and find herself again, and she certainly couldn't do that on Fifth Avenue.
Steve had stayed behind. He was in the middle of an important project but was willing to travel with her on a trip home for the funeral. For once Andrea didn't feel the need to be accompanied; this time she wanted to be alone with her thoughts and memories. Her insistence on being alone had caused a strain between them, the first serious rift since they got together almost two years ago, and it would be the first time they had spent any real time apart.
The pressure of the stone against her palm brought her back to the present. It had been almost five days since she left JFK airport, and Steve hadn't phoned her since. Not even yesterday after the funeral to see how she was coping. It saddened her to think the man she had grown to love could be so stubborn and heartless, and she began to question her commitment to the relationship. Did she really know him? He had seemed to be perfect for her, and she had enjoyed his company; yet when she looked back at the continual rounds of friends and parties, drinks and dinners, it seemed somewhat shallow. Lately she had started to feel broody; her body clock reminding her that time was ticking away. She had mentioned it to Steve once in a light-hearted way, and he had held up his hands in mock horror. That would never be the deal with him; his career was way too important, and her needs would always come second.
Did she and Steve really have anything in common?
The day was grey and coarse; the wind whipped up sharply from behind the trees and caused her to shiver. She had forgotten the English weather and hadn't prepared nor packed for it.
Opening her palm, Andrea looked down at the stone in her hand. She remembered seeing it as a child, taking prize position behind the glass in the old china cabinet in her Gran’s front room. Occasionally she had been allowed to take it out and hold it in her small palm. It was pale in color, not quite white and not quite beige. Several markings had been etched deeply into the surface, and she’d been told it once belonged to a white witch with magical powers. As a child, she had held the small token and made a secret wish that she would never grow up, that she would always remain a child. Of course, that hadn't happened. Not physically, anyway—but perhaps in her heart?
Grandma Betty had always been so full of life, her small blue eyes twinkling on the wrinkled and careworn face. There had been some sadness in her youth, but no one had talked of it and Andrea had never asked, but sometimes she saw a wistful shadow slightly dimming those sparkling eyes.
And now the stone was hers—that and an old battered leather diary from 1956. Before her death, Grandma Betty had written her a letter, the hand-writing barely legible on the expensive vellum cream paper. It had taken her a while to read the spidery hand.
Andrea,
My darling Granddaughter, I fear that I may not see you again. I do hope that is not the case, but I have to be practical. There is so much I
should have told you and so much left to say, but my time is running out. Remember the wishing stone you used to ask me about as a child? I leave that to you. It's my most valued possession. You must promise that you will do something for me? The stone needs to be returned to its rightful home on the Isle of Iona, just off the Isle of Mull. You must take it into the Abbey and enter the little graveyard of St. Oran's chapel. Take the stone and place it on the third grave on the left-hand side. I can't explain everything to you in this letter. Most of it I don't understand myself. But you must promise me this, this small pilgrimage of mine. The diary may help? Call it an old woman's ramblings, but as you loved me please do this one last thing for me. The thought of you, my only remaining flesh and blood carrying out this last request, brings peace to my mind as I near my end.
I will never stop loving you even when I am far away.
Grandma Betty x
Tears trickled down her face as she imagined the dear old lady sitting up in bed, scribbling her last instructions to the world. It must have taken a lot of effort to write the letter. She had been in a very weak state in the end and therefore must have considered it extremely important to write.
Andrea had promised Steve she would be back in a few days, but what would a few more matter? It wasn't as if he was speaking to her anyhow. She would visit Iona. It was the last thing she could do for her grandmother, and although it would mean a further 1000 mile round trip, it would give her some peace of mind to follow her last wishes.
The phone vibrated in her jeans pocket, and pulling it out, she could see it was Steve calling from New York.
"Hey." His voice was deep and apologetic across the miles, and her heart thumped loudly at the sound of him.
"Hey, back." She tried to sound light as she finished their usual greeting.