Raiden's Choice (A Ravens MC Novel Book 1) Read online

  ~Luka~

  I’ve been a prospect with the Ravens for a week and have learned that although they do drugs, they don’t sell or move them. I was hoping that could’ve been what I passed on to Knowles, but the drugs are really only used for parties. There’s no distribution going on. The deliveries being made are not drugs. They’re weapons. Military grade weapons.

  I don’t know where they get them from or who they deliver them to though. I only know it’s weapons because I’ve helped load the trucks before, but that’s it. My job with the weapons stops there and I know that isn’t enough to pass on to Knowles. He’ll want something concrete.

  I’m typically used for patrolling the Verdana area at night and ensuring no rival clubs are causing trouble in Raven territory. I’m an enforcer and I’m needed for protection and muscle basically.

  Verdana is sectioned off into three different areas. Raven territory, Ryker territory, and Drycos territory. The Drycos club hasn’t necessarily been a problem with their territory being separated by rural areas, but I was told that the Ravens and Rykers are so close in territory that they cross over nearly every week. Threats that Rykers want to takeover Raven territory are common and the Ravens don’t take them lightly. Patrol is necessary by both clubs. It seems to me that a war is inevitable.

  “Luka and Kane!” Dax calls out as he walks into the main room of the clubhouse from his office. “I need you guys for a cleanup. My office.”

  A cleanup? I walk in behind Kane and close the door. I wait for Dax to give instruction on what he wants us to do.

  “1350 Palafox. There’s a warehouse there. I need you to dispose of the body that’s in it.” he states with a calm voice. “It’s in Ryker territory. Take the van and lay low. Your supplies are already stocked in it. You run into any trouble, call me.”

  Fuck. Kane and I both nod and exit out the back of the clubhouse. Kane takes the initiative to drive and I don’t argue with him. I’m tempted to call it quits right now. Tell Kane and Dax to go fuck themselves, but I’m not a quitter. I’ll do what it takes to get Linc out and if disposing of a body is what it takes, then so be it.

  It takes us forty minutes to get to 1350 Palafox. It’s mid-afternoon and traffic is decently heavy. Fortunately, no one is parked at the warehouse.

  “There’s a loading dock.” I point out.

  Kane nods and pulls around to it. He backs the van up to the opening and we both get out, checking to see that no one is taking interest in what we’re doing. I grab the tarp from the back of the van. I notice two shovels and a potted tree. What the hell?

  It doesn’t take us long to find the body. The man is sprawled out on the floor with a single gunshot wound to the head.

  “Did one of our guys do this?” I ask.

  “Obviously, he’s a Ryker.” Kane answers and points to a tattoo on his hand. A small ‘R’ emblazoned in flames. “Ravens don’t take well to one of ours being killed without retaliation.”

  Kane explains that before I became a prospect, two of our members were found with their throats slit. Their bodies were dumped in front of the clubhouse with the Rykers’ symbol spray painted on their cuts. This is a retaliation killing and most likely not the last one.

  Together we spread the tarp out and make quick work of wrapping the body up. Rigor mortis is starting to set in already. Once he’s covered, we lift him and carry him to the van.

  “What now?” I ask.

  “We go bury the fucker.” Kane laughs. “Dax isn’t quite ready to show his cards yet.”

  He drives and I make sure I keep up with where he’s going. If I’m going to hand a body over to Knowles, I need to know where to tell him to find it.

  “Get to digging, prospect.” Kane grins and hands me a shovel. “Dig straight down. We bury them standing up. It’s harder for them to be found that way. Put the tree on top. Out of the pot, of course.”

  We’re in the middle of nowhere. I don’t recognize the area, but I turned on the GPS on my phone so I could relay the info.

  I snatch the shovel from Kane and push it into the ground. By the time I’m finished digging a deep enough hole, my muscles ache and I’m drenched with sweat. Kane offers me a hand and pulls me out. Together, we toss the stiff body straight into the ground. We work in silence to refill it, leaving enough dirt to cover the tree. I un-pot it and plant it on top of the body, then finish covering it.

  I don’t dwell on what I just did as we drive back. I didn’t kill him. I didn’t pull the trigger. All I did was put him to rest. I can’t allow myself to feel guilty for that. The fucker probably deserved it.

  When we get back to the clubhouse, I go straight to my bike. I don’t even go inside to wash up. I don’t need to stay at the clubhouse tonight. It’s not home. Not even close.

  “Have Dax call if he needs me.” I tell Kane.

  I need to be in my own place. My own home. Once I’m there I shower and wash away all the dirt and sweat. Everything I worked up burying a dead body.

  I step out and wrap a towel around my waist. I pick up my phone and scroll down to Hatfield McCoy. I don’t know why I saved Griffin Knowles under that name. I was watching a documentary on the Hatfields and the McCoys when I programmed the number in. It suits him. He picks up on the fourth ring.

  “I have a dead body for you.”

  Chapter Four

  ~Raiden~

  I head to the nurse’s station to type up my notes and the newspaper catches my attention. Buried Body Recovered: Possible Motorcycle Gang Responsible.

  I pick up the paper and start reading the article. No arrests have been made, but Assistant District Attorney, Griffin Knowles, made a statement that “The motorcycle gangs in Verdana are a growing problem that needs to be rectified.”

  The body has been identified as Fred Matthews, a known member of the Rykers’ motorcycle gang. I love how they refer to them as a gang when I’ve known them to be a club my entire life.

  Fred was thirty-three years old and died from a bullet wound to the head. His body was recovered early this morning. They don’t mention that he was a convicted rapist and pedophile or that he liked to pull the fingernails off people when they didn’t pay their rent on time. No, the paper doesn’t say that. It never does.

  The Rykers own four trailer parks in their territory and they’re ruthless when people are late paying their overcharged rent. Fred liked collecting payment in fingernails. One for each day you were late with your payment. Needless to say, he won’t be adding any more fingernails to his collection.

  What I don’t understand is how his body was found so quickly. The Ravens always do an outstanding job of disposal. I can’t recall a single body that has been found. Yet, the body was found within twenty-four hours. How is that possible?

  I put the paper down and focus on getting my notes completed. My shift is almost over and I need to get to Griffin’s office and see what I can find out.

  I enter my notes for the twelve-year-old kid who came in with a broken collarbone and the twenty-two-year old woman I see nearly every month. She’s a victim of domestic violence, but is too afraid to speak up or leave. This time her nose was broken.

  I log the rest of my notes for my patients and let my supervisor know I’m heading out. I had the early shift today, but it’s still almost five o’clock when I get to Griffin’s office.

  “Oh sweetie, he’s not quite finished up in court yet.” Beverly informs me. “I guess that plea is taking a little longer than he expected.” Just what I was counting on.

  “Do you mind if I wait in his office? I have a terrible headache coming on.” I explain and Beverly nods, giving me a sympathetic look.

  I slip inside and close the door behind me. I don’t lock it on the off chance Griffin will come in and wonder why I had his office door locked. I need to find out how Fred’s body was discovered so quickly. It doesn’t make any sense. I know my dad well enough to know he would have sent Kane to do the cleanup. Kane wouldn’t have just dumped it where he wou
ld’ve been found easily. Someone snitched.

  Nothing in Griffin’s emails was suspicious. I checked from his laptop last night while he showered and didn’t see anything. Sometimes he’ll email the DA, Steve, if he’s met with an informant or if he has a lead on something.

  I glance around his desk and skim my fingers over the files. One grabs my attention. Lincoln Varelli. I pick it up and look through the contents. Plea offer: Twenty-Split-Five. For minor possession? That’s odd.

  Griffin’s notes are scribbled on a sheet of legal paper. Possible member of the Rykers. Can we use him? I try to make sense of the notes, but some of them seem like gibberish. I go to the next page and feel vomit rising in my throat.

  Met with Luka. Offered deal. Ravens. Info for brother.

  I close the folder and carefully put it back where I got it. I tried to warn my dad and now he’s got a fucking snitch in his club. He should have listened to me. I’ve never steered him wrong.

  Luka Varelli has never shown interest in any motorcycle club. Not once. He rides his bike through town and fights MMA, but he’s a loner. I know from Lincoln’s file their mother died when he was born. I’ve seen her picture on the wall at their dad, Leon’s shop.

  I’ve also seen pictures of Luka and a woman on that wall. I know she was Haley Stanley and I know she was a casualty of an inner feud of the Drycos. I just don’t know all the details.

  Still, he’s snitching for Griffin and despite his reasons, we can’t allow it.

  ~Luka~

  My bike comes to a rumbling stop at the red light across from the courthouse. I’m pissed that the ADA hasn’t returned my calls. I gave him a dead body and he ignores me. That isn’t how this works. I did my job and the fucker needs to do his.

  I spot him walking out and then I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. I recognize the woman almost immediately. Hayes called her Dax’s daughter. Griffin’s arm is thrown over her shoulder and she’s tucked neatly against his side as they walk out of the courthouse together.

  She’s wearing a pair of light blue scrubs and her hair is pulled back into a ponytail. She smiles up at him and he leans down and kisses her.

  A horn blows and snaps me out of my trance. I ease my bike across the road, not wanting to lose sight of them. I pull over and kill my engine. He opens her door for her and gives her another kiss before she gets in her car.

  As much as I want to talk to him, I want to know what the hell is going on more. The president’s daughter is fucking the ADA?

  The red Honda Accord zips out of the parking lot and I fall in behind her. I keep a safe distance, but make sure I don’t lose sight of her. Around a half hour later, she pulls up at a small brick house, which I assume is where she lives.

  I climb off my bike and slowly approach her car. She’s opening her door when I get to it.

  “Miss…whoa…what the fuck?” I ask at the gun she has pointed at me.

  “Just who the fuck do you think you are following me like that?” she asks, not wavering the nine-millimeter.

  Her hand is steady and sure, making me take a step back. I don’t take my eyes off the gun. Without a doubt, I can tell she’s handled one before.

  “I apologize. I need to talk to you.” I explain.

  “I don’t even know you.” she hisses.

  “I’m a prospect for the Ravens.” I tell her. “You’re Dax’s daughter.”

  “That doesn’t mean I know you and you sure as hell don’t know me.” she shakes her head. “Get the fuck off my property.”

  “Put the gun down and let’s talk.” I say, crossing my arms. “Maybe you could explain to me why I just saw my president’s daughter kissing Griffin Knowles.”

  She narrows her eyes a little and slowly lowers the gun. She puts it under her seat and then grabs her purse before getting out of her car.

  “You can come in, Luka Varelli.” she says with a smirk.

  I walk in behind her, watching her toss her keys onto a small table in the entranceway. Her living room is the first room we come into and she waves her hand toward her sofa. I take a seat on the plush cushions. The light gray material is thick and soft.

  “So talk.” she encourages as she sits on the matching chair.

  “You and the ADA?” I notice her jaw clench a little, as if she’s biting her tongue or holding back.

  “Yes, I’m in a relationship with Griffin Knowles.” she states.

  “But your father is Dax Daughtry.” I deadpan.

  “And my father is aware of who I date and my boyfriend is aware of who my father is.” she explains.

  “Does the rest of the club know?” I ask.

  “The majority of them do. It’s not exactly a secret. Did you think you were going to go back and…snitch on me or something?”

  I swallow, almost feeling as though she’s testing me. Did Griffin tell her about our arrangement? Is this how their relationship works? They lie in bed talking about the Ravens and his informants?

  “So Dax is your dad, the President of the Ravens, but you lead a completely separate life?” I ask.

  “I come to the clubhouse every once in a while and I’ve been to a few bike rallies in my lifetime, but essentially, yes. My life is separate from the Ravens. I’m not part of the club.”

  I stand up from the couch and head to her door. Her kitchen is right beside her living room and I can see a hallway that must lead to her bedroom. Her house is immaculately clean, but I notice as I pass her dining table that she has an Outlaw Biker magazine lying on it.

  “What kind of bike do you have?” I throw out there.

  “A ’72 Harley. My dad and I rebuilt it a few years…” her voice trails off.

  “And you lead a completely separate life, Raiden Daughtry?” I question.

  “Yes.”

  “You’re a liar.” I challenge, taking a step towards her. She doesn’t back away, but then again, I knew she wouldn’t. “You pull a fucking nine-millimeter on me like it’s the most natural thing to do. You own a Harley. I bet you grew up with the Ravens and you loved every damn second of it. You love to have a hard, massive machine rumbling between your legs. You’re probably screwing the ADA as part of some loyalty to your Ravens family.”

  Her eyes flash with anger, but she doesn’t confirm nor deny my accusation. I can see that there is way more to Raiden Daughtry than what she’s showing me right now.

  “When you’re ready to stop hiding who you really are, come find me.”

  Chapter Five

  ~Raiden~

  “We have a trauma coming in!” Dr. Hetresky calls out as he rushes by the nurses’ station.

  I grab a pair of gloves and pull them on as I follow him to the ER department to await the arrival of the ambulance.

  “It’s Karen Thompson again.” he informs me. “Multiple stab wounds to the abdomen.”

  My blood boils at the thought of her boyfriend beating and stabbing her. I know she wants to get help, but she’s afraid. Verdana isn’t a very small town, but it’s small enough that he would find her. He would find her and he would kill her. She knows that.

  Once the ambulance arrives and she’s brought in, Dr. Hetresky goes to work on getting the bleeding to stop and closing the gaping wounds she has. Bill Pace stabbed Karen four times. Her arms show minor defensive wounds. Dried blood is on her face and I can tell it came from her nose…again. I stitch up a small laceration on the side of her head and clean the blood from her face.

  She’s in surgery for two hours before going into recovery. After the police have taken their statement, I go in to check Karen’s vitals. She’s still a little groggy from the anesthesia, but she’s awake.

  “They won’t…find him.” she mumbles.

  “Don’t worry.” I assure her. “They’ll get him. There’s an officer outside your door too. You’re safe here.”

  “They won’t. He’s not home. He always goes to hide out at his uncle’s cabin past Lancaster Farms. It’s the only cabin there. They’ll never get him
. Never.”

  “Did you tell the police?” I ask and she shakes her head.

  “He’ll know I told them.” she whispers. “He’ll know and he’ll kill me. I know he will. I can’t…” she cries.

  I lean over the bed and gently wipe her tears away. Over the past year I’ve seen her come in this hospital more times than I can count. Each visit getting worse and worse.

  “You’re safe here. Get some sleep.”

  I finish up my notes, but instead of heading home, I go to my self-storage unit. The one I keep my bike in. EZ-Store is a shitty place to keep valuable belongings. There’s no security cameras, the units are not air conditioned or heated, and the owner, Frank, will rent them out to anyone. But since I’ve known Frank since I was eight, and seen firsthand what he’s capable of, I know my shit is safe. Even if he has retired from the Ravens.

  I call my dad on my way and tell him I need a vehicle. He doesn’t ask questions. I’m sure he can tell from my voice that I’m doing something I feel has to be done. I also tell him I need to talk to him soon.

  When I get to the storage units, a black F150 is parked outside. I walk to my unit, close the door behind me and go to my safe. I pull the bag out first and strip off my scrubs.

  I change into the black pants and black shirt I keep packed here. I twist my hair into a knot and secure it. I put my gloves on last.

  Then I take my case out and put it on the table. I open it and make sure everything is in order with my M82 Barrett 50 caliber sniper rifle. I haven’t used it since I put a bullet in Fred Matthews’ head. I close the case and take it to the truck. My car is gone and I know my dad is taking care of it for me.

  Lancaster Farms. I know exactly where I’m going and finding a lone cabin won’t be hard to do. Bill Pace won’t lay another hand on Karen. That’s for damn sure.

  I drive in an easy calm. I don’t turn the radio on and my phone is on vibrate. I remind myself why I’m doing this. Why it’s necessary. I go over every possible scenario in my mind. This is how I work.