“I said not now.”
“Too bad,” I whisper. His stock-still pose frightens me a little. He’s so intense and brooding in this moment that I worry the old Ryan I barely knew is back. I’d half convinced myself that who he was before I was kidnapped was just a persona, one he plays to get through the day. His job is dangerous, and I do take it seriously. I know the trouble I’ve caused, and I know the danger the entire club is in because of me. He always tells me I have no clue, but he’s wrong. I see the worry and protective way he responds to me. He loves me, but I also know he can be cruel when he wants to be. I’ve forgiven the things he did to me, but that doesn’t mean I’m stupid enough to forget them. I guess, in a way, I’ve just been waiting for the bottom to fall out of my fairy tale.
The van comes to a stop, and the men—all except Ryan—move into position. They each check their equipment and call numbers and codes back at one another. From behind Ryan, I see Ian take a deep breath and nod. He opens up the back door, grabs a duffle bag, and walks up to a group of men in jeans and flannel shirts with his back straight and the deadliest expression I can imagine on his face. I try to focus on the men but can’t. Ryan consumes everything in my line of sight. I was only trying to distract him with my whining, but once it came out, it was more honest than I expected or wanted it to be.
“Better get her out of here—they’re coming for the van,” Duke says. The two front doors open and then close, one after the other. We’re alone now, though we have an audience off in the distance. Something about Ryan’s reaction, or lack thereof, is more than a little frightening.
“Follow me,” he says. His neck muscles tighten as he speaks. Turning around, he hops out of the van and stands a few feet in front of the open doors with his back to me. I follow slowly, wishing to be as invisible to the strange men as possible. I keep myself tucked behind Ryan’s back, hoping I’m mostly out of their line of sight.
We make it around the van without anyone noticing, I think. Ryan nervously eyes the group in flannel that Ian and Duke are talking to, while Jeremy stands with his gun at his side and his back to them. Always have each other’s back. Always. That’s part of the Forsaken code. They just take it more literally than I thought. We’re parked in a half-enclosed field underneath a collection of redwoods on this side of the van. On the other side is a large wooden barn that’s so worn it looks as though it’s never been painted. It seems sturdy enough for what I assume is a working ranch judging from the potent smell of manure that practically suffocates me as the wind picks up.
“I’m not bored with you. Not one fucking bit. If I was, I wouldn’t have brought you with us. This shit we do? With RICO it could easily get us each a life sentence. You understand the magnitude of our business? You get that?”
“Yes.” My breathing is shaky—half from the words and half from our surroundings. I don’t like it here. I don’t know these people and don’t know what I’ve walked into. Beyond intimidating, it’s scary. I shouldn’t have asked for this, and I shouldn’t have distracted him as I did. If he needed to let out a little steam with Ian, I should have let him.
Chapter 4
Ryan
I shouldn’t have brought Cub here. Even though the Mendo Ranch is the site of one of our least contentious business relationships, it’s still not right for her to be a part of this shit. She can’t defend herself well enough to be brought into club business. Ever.
The support club that supervises the ranch’s production on a daily basis has been licking Forsaken’s ball sack for the last twenty or so years, just begging for a patch over. It’s not going to happen, no matter how much some of the brothers think it could be good for us. Part of what keeps Forsaken off ATF’s radar is the fact that the pussy agents they got working that shit consider us a small to mid-sized club. We’re not as big of a threat in their eyes as other clubs, so ATF doesn’t pay much attention to us. We also pay our guys reasonable salaries for the jobs they have been legally hired for. The fucking federal government doesn’t know shit about shit. Fucking idiots. Their idiocy works out for us in the end, though, so I can’t complain much.