2 - Raven: Stormy Souls MC, page 1
part #2 of Stormy Souls MC Series
Raven
Stormy Souls MC Book 2
by
Payton Hunter
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2023 by Payton Hunter
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information, address: paytonhunter.author@gmail.com.
First eBook edition October 2023
Cover design by joetherasakdhi
Editor Nicola Thorpe,
PA: Tammy Carney
Paperback ISBN:
www.paytonhunterauthor.com
About the book
This is the book I always wanted to write but never dared to. It is a pure work of fiction, featuring what I love most: Bad Ass Bikes and the Sexy Men that ride them!
All people, places, institutions, and businesses are a work of my imagination, and similarities to real life are unintentional.
TRIGGER WARNING
This book includes scenes of physical violence, abuse, explicit sexual nature, and strong, explicit language. It is not suitable for people under the age of 18 or people with triggers relating to any of the above.
Acknowledgments and Thanks
Thank you to Tammy Carney for her endless patience and encouragement. To my editor Nicola, I would not have been able to do this without you.
I would like to thank my family and friends. Thank you to Nicky, Pete, Caroline, and Lola Wright for your encouragement.
If you would like to get in touch with comments, suggestions or just to chat
Email or find me on my Facebook page, or readers’ group. I’ll try to answer every message.
paytonhunter.author@gmail.com
Dedication
This book is dedicated to Caroline and Pete.
You are the best friends anyone could ever wish for.
Also to my amazing daughter.
Love and miss you always
xxx
Character List Stormy Souls MC
Road Name Rank Name Old Lady
Raven President James Saunders (Jamie) Chloe
Rusty Vice President William Greenwood (Bill) sister Ellie
Slender Sergeant at Arms David Brewer (Dave)
Pennywise Enforcer Noah Nixom
Spen Treasurer Spencer Dalington Debs
Dawg Secretary Pete Cooker Caroline
Clusseaud Road Captain / event planner Robert/Bobby Buck Theresa/Terrie
Ferret I.T. Guy Zack Owens
Vegas Member / VP later Vincent Albright (Vince) Ashley
Moggy Member Craig Parkers
Sparks Member Jason White Ally/ Rainbow
Ratchet Member Ryder Gleeson
Zippy Member Caden Giles
Dougal Member Simon Baker Sarah
Halfpint Member Dave Green
Striker Member Eli Waters
Greg Prospect Greg Brown
Caleb Prospect Caleb Hayes
Mom Club mother, mother to Pennywise, Helen Nixom
Others
Karen Barmaid / Manager
Neil Bar Manager
Fury President Restless Slayers MC daughter Meghan
Ghoul Vice President Restless Slayers MC
Masher Sergeant at Arms Restless Slayers MC daughter Tanya
Former
Flakey Member Carl Staunton RIP in book 1
Table of Contents
About the book
Acknowledgments and Thanks
Dedication
Character List Stormy Souls MC
1 — Chloe
2 — Raven
3 — Chloe
4 — Raven
5 — Chloe
6 — Raven
7 — Chloe
8 — Raven
9 — Chloe
10 — Raven
11 — Chloe
12 — Raven
13 — Chloe
14 — Raven
15 — Chloe
16 — Raven
17 — Chloe
18 — Raven
19 — Chloe
20 — Raven
21 — Chloe
22 — Raven
23 — Chloe
24 — Raven
25 — Chloe
26 — Raven
27 — Chloe
28 — Raven
29 — Chloe
30 — Raven
Epilogue
Payton Hunter © 2023
1 — Chloe
I’m sitting on my bed, head in hands as devastation rolls over me, paying the price for breaking my rules. Despite knowing better, I allowed myself to get close to Carl Staunton, a patient, and member of the Stormy Souls MC. Regardless of being two very different personalities, we developed a friendship.
His death left a gaping hole inside me. Every time I close my eyes, I see his face. Sometimes he smiles, sometimes he grimaces in pain, and sometimes he sulks, but he’s always here with me. You can glean a surprising amount about someone in just a couple of hours, if you pay attention.
While it’s heartbreaking to witness a once robust MC member, adored by those close to him, deteriorate and vanish from your existence. Even more frustrating is the fact that I’d been too busy to sit with him when his time came. Too busy to hold his hand, too busy to offer comfort.
These twelve-hour shifts are exhausting, often turning into fifteen hours, without breaks, the ability to have a drink, or use the toilet. The constant noise of call bells going puts us under enormous stress, especially since the pandemic. We’ve had almost two years of working flat out, leaving no time to get to know someone, nor build a therapeutic relationship. I’ve watched more people die than I ever imagined in my wildest nightmares. Memories of the days of portable morgues—cooling trucks—outside in the parking lot because our own morgue was full.
No textbook in the world can prepare you for the anxiety, pressure, stress, exhaustion, and burnout we experienced, and continue to experience.
I’m genuinely considering leaving my profession and stacking shelves at Walmart instead.
Some days are not so bad; days when I’m able to talk and listen to my patients and take care of their basic human needs. Other days, however, when I am running from one bed to the next, I feel like a dispensing machine.
Add to that the constant verbal, and sometimes physical, abuse from patients and visitors, it’s enough to make any sane professional run a country mile. No wonder so many doctors and nurses suffer breakdowns or prefer to numb themselves with alcohol and other substances. The textbooks ought to come with a warning label.
You hear about interns working ridiculous hours, meeting unachievable expectations, but you never consider that it’ll be very similar when you finally qualify. Nurses are expected to know everything about everything. Why? Which idiot came up with that idea?
My neighbors regularly knock on my door to have me look at their ingrown toenail, check their baby’s temperature, look over a half-amputated finger, or give my best diagnosis because they have chest pain.
What am I supposed to do? I’m a nurse, not a freaking doctor for fuck’s sake.
Slapping myself to stop the hysterical rant going off in my head, I focus on the here and now, Carl—Flakey—Staunton’s funeral, which is being held at the club’s cemetery.
Since Carl’s admission, a sort of friendship with Ashley Saunders, one of Carl’s many non-blood family members, developed. We’d often sit and talk, sometimes over a coffee at the hospital. It’s one of the things I’ll miss.
Her brother, Raven... well now, there’s a man and a half. Tall, dark, broad-chested, powerful tattooed arms with bulging biceps. God, I’d love to see what’s under his T-shirt! Never mind what he’s packing in his jeans! His hair is jet black, long, and wavy. In a male strip show, he could pass as a Jason Momoa impersonator! He’d rake in a fortune. He’s that fucking hot.
My brows raise at my fangirling. Though the man is way out of my league.
I took fourteen vacation days, in desperate need of a break; sadly, today, they start with Carl’s funeral.
I was supposed to run a bone marrow drive stall this weekend, but with Carl gone, it undoubtedly won’t happen.
Instead, I’ll dust off the camping gear, throw it in the back of my car and find a remote spot to camp around Lake Major for a few days, just to get away and breathe.
Checking the time, I realize I’ve managed to waste two hours pondering the injustices of life before hurrying into the shower. Once dry, I rummage through my closet with no idea what to wear to a biker funeral.
Since it’s being held at the club’s own cemetery, I’m certain it won’t be the same as an ordinary funeral. At the beginning of May, it’s still cool outside, so a long-sleeved black fitted shirt, black pencil skirt, and knee-high, soft, black suede platform boots seem like an appropriate choice. On my way out, I snatch my padded coat and purse, almost tripping rushing to my car.
When Raven messaged, he gave me coordinates for a joining point. There’ll be a bike and car procession, following the hearse, taking Carl on his last ride before laying him to rest. A biker funeral is something I’ve heard about, but never experienced, fueling my curiosity.
At the meeting point, marshals wearing high viz
Then I hear it.
A muted rumble, getting louder, turning into a wall of noise as around fifty motorcycles ride past the parking lot, with the hearse in front. The noise is phenomenal, and I can feel the vibrations even sitting in the car!
A spectacular, gleaming black Harley Davidson hearse with a sidecar pulls up, in which rests a plain coffin and some simple flower arrangements. I smile, despite the tears momentarily clouding my vision.
He’d have loved that.
Paying attention to the marshals, I join the procession as the first car behind the bikes, getting the full effect of the roar of revving engines. Slowly, we move towards the second joining point at the other end of town. The marshals slow down the motorcade, bringing us to a rolling stop. More bikes join in front of me, and more cars behind. My side view mirror shows at least twenty cars, flying black ribbons on their antennas. Ahead, the column of bikes, riding in pairs, seems endless, making the hearse no longer visible to me. The amount of support the biker community is giving Carl renders me speechless.
Lots of Harleys and other custom bikes, as well as sporty ones and even old classics joined to pay their respects. Bikers from all walks of life, united in grief for one of their own. My throat tightens, and my heart swells, moving me to the core.
Being an only child of a very straitlaced, strict mother, who worked hard to keep me on the righteous path, I grew up going to church every Sunday. A straight A student, never doing anything wild or reckless. The model child to a model mother who loves me and gave me a fantastic, secure childhood.
I never met my father. My mother told me he left before she found out she was pregnant and doesn’t know where he is. The only thing she could tell me was his name, Bobby, and that she hadn’t heard from him in thirty-seven years.
I never missed not having a father. My mother was easily both mom and dad; we made it on our own. His loss.
The convoy winds its way around country roads for about an hour, then turns towards the club property. We come to a stop in what seems like the middle of nowhere. I watch as all the bikers stand with both feet planted, remove their helmets, and wait. Next, I hear an engine roar and rev up. Suddenly, as if directed by a conductor, all the bikes are revving, and the bikers stand with lowered heads as a show of respect. The sight makes my throat tighter and my heart fuller. It’s an unimaginable experience, making me feel privileged to be a part of this momentous occasion, even though the reason for it sucks.
Slowly, we creep towards our final destination. After almost a mile, I spot huge iron gates, manned by marshals. The bikes turn in and follow an uphill path, while the cars are directed to an open field to park. From the bottom of the small hill, we watch as bike after bike parks single file on either side of the path, forming an honor guard.
There are so many people! Some greeting each other; some just milling around. I survey my surroundings with curiosity and notice an exceedingly pallid Ashley, visibly grappling with her composure, as Vegas earnestly tries to provide support. The woman they affectionately refer to as ‘Mom’ stands by their side.
Raven and other members of the club walk toward the hearse, lifting the casket with the utmost of care, before carrying their brother to his final resting place. The silence, as everyone follows the casket and gathers at the graveside, is deafening. The minister gives a brief sermon as Carl’s MC brothers carefully lower the casket into the ground. Once the sermon has concluded, I step forward with everyone else, white carnation in hand. With as much reverence as I can muster, I throw it onto the coffin, followed by a handful of dirt, saying my silent goodbye, unable to stop the tears from falling.
Once the crowd gradually disperses, I follow people walking down to the clubhouse. Since my invite includes the wake, I’ll stay for a drink.
A tall brunette with glasses greets me as I walk inside.
“Hello, lovely lady, it’s great to see you!” She smiles brightly at me. I realize I’ve seen her before, but my capacity for remembering names is zero. My confusion must show on my face as she explains. “I’m Caroline. I visited Flakey and Ashley when they were both laid up in hospital.” Now I remember, the crazy woman who slapped Carl’s ass! I grin at her.
“Hi, Caroline, I apologize. My brain isn’t fully functioning. Of course, I remember you. My name is Chloe, as you know.” I rush out my explanation.
“I know, lovely. You don’t know many people here, so stick with me. I’ll introduce you around. And please, smile. We’re mourning, but we are celebrating his life. It’s what he would’ve wanted,” Caroline advises me, and I nod my head in agreement. He’d have hated a morbid affair.
I follow Caroline around for a bit, with Ally tagging along. They are a hoot, same goes for Ally’s husband, Sparks. We chat away, and it feels as though we’ve known each other for years.
I love Caroline and her husband, Dawg. He’s just as crazy and funny as she is. Above all, with both couples, love radiates out. You can tell they are as close as can be and love each other fiercely.
With the playful party mood, lots of laughter, and reminiscence, time flies. Though as the night wears on I start to feel like I’m intruding, an interloper in their private grief, so I decide to make my exit. As I rise to go, Caroline pulls me back to my seat.
“You can’t leave yet. Stay and watch the show later.” She smirks.
“What show?” I can’t help but sound intrigued.
Caroline doesn’t answer, just grins wickedly, winks, and taps the side of her nose. Ally comes back with another round of drinks—nonalcoholic for me—sets them on the table while nudging Caroline, who turns around, an evil smile gracing her face, gets up, and walks towards a ruffled looking Ashley and Vegas.
She stumbles right into Ashley, and Ashley struggles to keep her upright.
Caroline returns as quickly as she left, exchanging a conspiratorial smile with Ally.
Did she just stick her hand in Ashley’s cut pocket? What the ever-loving hell?
I don’t get to ask because I’m too distracted by Raven jumping on top of the bar. After greeting and thanking everyone for coming, he makes a brief speech. Glasses raise everywhere, and “To Flakey!” reverberates around the room.
What follows next has everyone hooting, hollering, and catcalling. Raven hands over to Vegas, who goes onto one knee in front of Ashley and proposes in the sweetest way. Of course, she says yes. And I’m the one whooping loudest.
Payton Hunter © 2023
2 — Raven
The last few weeks have been tough, probably the toughest of my life.
My private and work life turned into a constant roller coaster, and I don’t know whether I’m coming or going. I took some serious blows when I discovered my VP bad-mouthing me, interfering in business, and threatening my sister. Furious, I’d like to kill him with my own bare hands, but everything was put on the back burner when Flakey ended up in hospital, and consequently died.
I ordered Rusty not to come back for the funeral. I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself from beating the fucker to a pulp.
Flakey’s death decimated us. He was a long-time brother and one of the best people you’d ever meet. We’re reeling from his sudden death.
To top everything off, Vegas proposed to my sister, and tomorrow we must attend the Restless Slayer MC rally. We’re going because they’re our dominant club, meaning we are affiliated with them. We maintain a great relationship, and I’ve known Fury, their Prez, Ghoul, his VP, and Masher, their Sergeant at Arms for years.
It’s therefore nothing personal, but we could all do without having to travel for hours. Fuck, we should be trying to gather our thoughts and deal with our grief.
