A Ruthless Halloween (Ruthless Kings MC), page 1
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 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Ruthless Kings MC
Ruthless Reader
Also by K.L. Savage
COPYRIGHT© 2020 A RUTHLESS HALLOWEEN BY KL SAVAGE
All rights reserved. Except as permitted by U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior permission of the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, establishments, or organizations, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously to give a sense of authenticity. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. A RUTHLESS HALLOWEEN is intended for 18+ older, and for mature audiences only.
ISBN: 978-1-952500-21-3
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CONTROL:
PHOTOGRAPHY BY WANDER AGUIAR PHOTOGRAPHY
COVER MODEL: FABIAN P.
COVER DESIGN: LORI JACKSON DESIGN
Editing by MASQUE OF THE RED PEN
FIRST EDITION PRINT 2020
Created with Vellum
To Andrey
I hope your birthday was fit for a KING. You deserve nothing less. Happy Birthday!
AND
To the terror hiding in darkness,
To the noises you hear late at night while you’re trying to sleep.
To the sweat trickling across your skin as your heart rate spikes,
To the paranoia making you wonder: Is someone watching me?
The answer is one you won’t like.
To the screams that echo in the night.
To the tears dripping down your cheek.
To the adrenaline tricking you into being faster than you think.
Come together now and feed on the readers,
And have a Happy Halloween. 💜
Chapter One
REAPER
October 15th
I rub my temples as my MC brothers sit around the table and bicker about what we’re doing for Halloween. Fucking news flash—we aren’t doing shit for Halloween, and I don’t give a fuck what any of them say about it. I hate Halloween. I hate the costumes. I don’t like that I can’t figure out who the hell is behind the mask or makeup.
What if it’s an enemy?
What if it’s an ally, and they decide to kill me, but I can’t see their facial expression, and they smile while they shove a knife in my side?
And don’t get me started on the candy. These assholes do not need to be hyped up on a sugar rush. Especially Knives; he gets too damn excited when he gets sugar, and he starts throwing those ninja stars with no aim. People could end up getting killed. I don’t want blood on my hands.
Well, I don’t want the wrong blood on my hands.
Then, there’s also the kids who will come, and I can’t deal with that right now. I can’t deal with seeing Sarah stare at all of the girls and boys dressed up as Disney Princesses and Power Rangers. She’ll pretend to smile, when deep down inside she’s struggling with heartache. I won’t be able to stand the tears that will come later that night while I hold her close. She’ll tell me through broken sobs how sorry she is and how she thinks I deserve more, better, a woman who can give me a child.
No matter how many times I tell her I already have everything I need, she doesn’t listen. She’s my purpose for breathing, for being, my heartbeat. I can live without us having children, but I can’t live without her.
“No, there needs to be bobbing for apples!” Skirt says with a slam of his fist, yanking me out of my depressed thoughts. “Have ye ever bobbed for apples?”
“Instead of water the apples float in, make it whiskey!” Knives hollers.
Tool and Doc slap Knives on the back of the head.
“Ow! What the fuck?”
“Patrick can’t bob for apples in whiskey, you asshole,” Tool grumbles.
Knives winces and glides his eyes across the table to Patrick, who has nothing but a smile on his face. “Sorry, Pira—Patrick,” Knives catches the slip up. It’s taken some time to get used to calling Pirate by his first name. It was his request, since he isn’t drinking anymore, and being called Pirate makes him feel like he’s still holding on to that rum bottle. “I didn’t mean to sound insensitive.”
“It’s fine. You can always have two barrels. One of water, one of whiskey. I’m at the point in my sobriety where I can be around it without craving it. So if that’s what you want to do, it’s fine.” He crinkles his nose as he gets lost in thought. “But won’t whiskey burn your eyes? That would suck.”
“Good point,” Knives says, spinning one of his ninja stars on the table.
“A haunted corn maze and a haunted hayride,” Tank exclaims as he darts his excited wide eyes around the table to see what everyone thinks of his idea.
I’m worried about Tank. He’s often too quiet, too shy, too mellow for this kind of lifestyle. He isn’t active. While he’s here and he works at the garage, he doesn’t seem invested like the others. He and Braveheart are still prospects since Braveheart refuses to get patched in without his prospect brother. I’m not sure if Tank will make it as a Ruthless King. He is very gentle, sweet, and he doesn’t have a bad bone in his body.
And a Ruthless King doesn’t have one bad bone—we have many.
“Oh, Tank, that’s a great idea! We need to do a haunted house too,” Braveheart says.
“We can do face painting, games, a bouncy castle, and a costume contest.” Poodle has a notebook and is writing everyone’s ideas down, including his own. His long hair falls in his face, and he tosses it up in one of those man bun things. I get a hint of that lavender shampoo that he thinks no one knows he uses, and it smells fucking good.
I’ll never tell him that, and I’ll also take it with me to my grave that sometimes … I use the shampoo too.
“This sounds like a fucking good time,” Slingshot says just as he’s about to bite down on a taco.
I point my finger at him and shake it. “Put the taco down. Not here. I will not be in a closed space with you while you eat your carnitas. Your stomach gets disgusting and all of us have to pay the price.”
“Reaper, come on. I took a pill to help me with it.”
“I don’t care. Until I know it works, you’re cut off from tacos when you’re around us. Drop the taco.”
Slingshot’s eyes narrow into thin slits as we challenge each other with deadly glares. Badge snickers from Slingshot’s left as the taco comes closer to the mouth of doom.
“Eh! Don’t you dare. Drop it!” I feel like I’m scolding a dog. Tyrant to be exact. That fucking dog loves to take bagels out of my hand these days, and it’s a pain in the ass.
Slingshot opens his mouth wider, and I crook my head and lift my brows, giving him one final warning. Tongue snatches the taco from Slingshot’s hand and stuffs it in his mouth, then he stabs his knife between Slingshot’s index and middle finger.
“What the fuck! That was mine,” Slingshot groans, throwing his head back in a tantrum.
My left temple starts to throb from all of these childish antics.
“This is so unfair.” Slingshot crosses his arms, and Tongue groans as he chews, then he steals Slingshot’s Coke to wash it down.
Tongue wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and belches. “That was really good.”
“Asshole,” Slingshot sneers.
“Um, no. You’re the one with the asshole problem,” Tongue whips back.
The room quietens as everyone tests the mood of the situation, until finally a roar of laughter erupts, and Slingshot flushes with embarrassment. He takes his slingshot out of his pocket and flicks the band angrily.
“Okay, okay.” I gesture my hands down as I chuckle. “Let’s calm down and bring it back to the discussion of Halloween. It isn’t going to happen, okay?”
“What?”
“Why!”
“Reaper, we have to have Halloween!”
My head bounces around to every person who complains. I’m baffled these grown men are so upset about Halloween. I lean back and intertwine my fingers across my stomach and listen to their protests.
“You can’t do this to us.”
“We love Halloween.”
“Come on, I’ve already talked to Boomer. He wants to bring his crew for Halloween. We’ve made plans,” Tool gripes, crossing his big arms over his chest.
Shit.
The victorious expression on my face falls, and Tool knows he has me once he brings up Boomer. We haven’t seen him since we were supposed to have that cookout, but Tool’s ol’ lady got kidnapped by her father to be used as a sex slave. He hasn’t been back since, and I miss him like crazy.
He’
I can’t even think about it.
“You made plans and invited Boomer to something that hadn’t been talked about yet? Who’s the President again?” My elbows land on the table with a hard thud as I stare at Tool. He gulps.
“I didn’t think it would be an issue, that’s all. Last year—”
I slam my fist on the table and sneer, “Last year, Sarah hadn’t…” I stop myself from saying anything else when Tool’s eyes soften around their usual hard edges. “Forget it. Plan what you want. I won’t be a part of it. I’ll make sure to take Sarah out of town. Church dismissed.” I slam the gavel down on the table and stand, pushing my chair back so hard it slams against the wall.
“Reaper!” Tool shouts after me, and no one else stands to leave.
I ignore him and fling the door open, then slam it closed behind me. Lady, Yeti, Tyrant, and Chaos are all sitting in front of the door and stare up at me. Chaos is one interesting looking dog. He’s a mix between a Poodle and a Pitbull, his body and hair are unique to say the least.
“You lot don’t get to judge me.” I point at them, and Tyrant licks his lips with his pink tongue, probably remembering the bagel he snatched from my hand this morning. I pat Lady’s head as I walk by, and my boots thud down the hall and out the door.
I need Sarah. I need to see what she wants to do. It isn’t right of me to make this decision without her, even if I think my choice is the best choice. She doesn’t need to be around kids right now, and I know what Halloween will do to her.
But if I keep her from doing something she wants, my little maniac will go behind my back and do it anyway.
I love it when she does that.
Chapter Two
SARAH
“Why are you telling the guys that there’s no Halloween party?” I tap my foot against the floor of Reaper’s office and cross my arms. Maizey is napping, finally. I had to pry her little arms off me so I could come talk to Reaper after Tongue came in and pouted about not being able to scare people in the haunted house—something he’s really been looking forward to.
Tongue loves a good shadow to lurk in, and Halloween is the perfect opportunity for him to do it.
Reaper digs around in his drawer and pulls out a black velvet box. He has a grin on his face as if a gift will make the decision not to have Halloween better.
I mean, it might. I love a gift.
“And what’s that?” Something that will win my heart over, I’m sure.
“A little something for my maniac doll to forget about all my flaws and love me anyway.” The box is settled in his palms as he holds it out for me to take.
I really want to take it.
Really. Really. Bad.
But I hold myself back. I need to think of the club instead of allowing Reaper to distract me like I know he can. In more ways than one, that’s for damn sure.
“I’ll take it if you agree to a Halloween party,” I say, lifting my chin in defiance.
His smile deflates, and his shoulders sag. “Come on, doll. I’m not going to allow a Halloween party. I just can’t. Please, take this.”
“Reaper…” I sigh his name and walk around his desk and straddle his lap. His hair is getting shaggy and needs a trim. I like running my fingers through it, though. It’s soft, completely different than the hard exterior he wears in front of the club. “Talk to me. Please? Why are you making this decision? Halloween is fun. Imagine what we can do for the community. We can have this huge party and raise money for a foundation. Maybe we can find a charity for addictions or something along those lines, or donate the money to the new rehab center in town. I don’t know, but a lot of good can come out of this.” I stroke his cheek, a gesture he loves. He says my touch always relaxes him, and I believe him, especially when he’s closing his eyes and leaning into my palm.
“Can you trust me with this?” he asks, placing a kiss on my inner wrist.
“I always trust you, but talk to me. You’re disappointing a lot of people, Reaper. And for what?”
He expels a heavy exhale and turns away from me. “I … I don’t want to see you sad, doll. I can’t stand seeing you sad.”
“Why would I be sad?” I’m so confused. I turn his head, and my heart stops when I see the anguish in his deep brown eyes. “Reaper, baby. Why would I be sad?”
“Because you’ll see all the kids in their costumes, and I know how hard we’ve been trying to get pregnant again—I know what we’ve lost.” He lays a hand on my flat belly, and I don’t hesitate to lay my hand on top of his. It’s my turn to close my eyes and wrestle with the emotions lodging in my throat. “I don’t want to see you sad, doll. I don’t want to put you in the middle of a crowd that’s all kids. I can’t. I won’t see you devastated like that. Not if I can stop it. And this, I can stop. This, I can control.” He licks his lips, and his cheeks flush. The whites of his eyes turn a light red, which tells me he’s fighting his own emotions too. He tightens his hand on my stomach and slides his eyes to mine. “I can’t control what happens here, no matter how much I wish I could, but I can’t.” He applies more pressure and leans his forehead against mine. “I can control this, though. This party. The inevitable sadness you’ll feel. I can keep you safe from that.”
I sniffle and cup the back of his head and shake my head. “Reaper, I love you. I love you so much, but you have to understand—you’ll never be able to keep that from me. I’m sad. I’m devastated. I lose hope every day. I carry it with me. The only thing that’s changed is that I’ve grown thicker skin, but I’m still sad. I feel like I’ll never be done mourning for what we’ve lost and what we’ll probably never have again. I love you for wanting to keep me safe from more heartache, but it’s already here. This party will be fun. Life is supposed to be fun. Halloween will be a good distraction. We need this. After all the shit the club has dealt with, I think everyone needs this.” A tear slips down my cheek as I hold onto him tighter. “We need this,” I repeat in a whisper against his lips.
His hands slide around my waist, and he pulls me close, burying his face in my shoulder. “Whatever you want, doll. I’ll give you whatever you want.”
I reach toward the desk where he sat the velvet box, and I lean back so he can watch me open it. “I want this,” I say, wanting to change the heaviness of the subject. “What is it?”
“Open it and find out, brat,” he teases, giving me a kiss on the nose. The slight scruff of his beard tickles my skin, and my nipples tighten from the sensation. I love his beard scrapping against me. I’m obsessed with it when he’s between my legs. A low grumble vibrates his chest, and he pulls my bottom lip from between my teeth with his mouth. “You better stop looking at my cock like that, or you’re not going to be able to open your gift.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I purr, wrapping my arms around his neck. I flatten my tongue at the base of his collarbone and lick my way up to his mouth. “I would definitely say your cock is a gift. There’s nothing,”—I suck his earlobe into my mouth and groan—“I love more than unwrapping that beast from your pants and fucking it.”
Reaper picks me up and sets my ass on the edge of the table and swipes an arm over his desk that pushes everything onto the floor with a loud crash. His mouth slams against mine as he pulls my shorts and panties to the side. He plunges three fingers inside me, stretching me with an unexpected burn before I’m fully ready.
