Grave (Dead Souls MC Book 2) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  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

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Epilogue

  Sneak Peak at Brewer!

  More Books by Savannah Rylan

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  About Savannah Rylan

  Copyright © 2018 by Savannah Rylan

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Chapter 1

  Grave

  “Grave, you comin’?” Knox asked.

  “Nope. Got shit to do,” I said.

  “Like sit there with a bullshit look on your face and hope Miss Long Legs comes back.”

  “She’s got a fucking name,” I said.

  “She’s also got legs for days,” he said.

  “Should you even be looking? With that pretty little thing of yours knocked up and strutting around?”

  “Monroe’s the one who points it out every damn time we’re around her,” he said.

  I shook my head as I stared out the window.

  “Come on, Grave. She’s gonna be just fine.”

  “I don’t give a shit how she is,” I said.

  “Then you’re a fuckin’ liar,” Knox said. “But who cares. More beer for me.”

  “Monroe know you’re going to drink with the guys?” I asked.

  “Know? She’s the one takin’ me,” he said with a grin as he started to walk out.

  “Hey Knox.”

  “What?”

  “You got yourself a good one there.”

  My eyes whipped over to my friend. My brother. My confidant. He was standing in the doorway with his shoulders rolled back and his nose tipped out towards the front. I could hear a car pulling up. Probably Monroe. The two of them had become inseparable and I had vowed to make sure they were safe. If there was one thing these asshole Black Saddles weren’t going to do, it was fuck up someone’s life who had a child on the way. There were a lot of things I fucking tolerated in the world of bloodshed and mayhem, but harming pregnant women and children was not fucking one of them.

  “I know I do,” Knox said. “Play your cards right, and ya might get one yourself.”

  “What makes you think I want one?” I asked.

  “The fact that you’re staring out that damn window instead of coming and drinking with us,” Knox said.

  He was right. I wasn’t going to admit to his damn face that he was right, but he was. I couldn’t stop thinking about Everly. Ever since she rolled up into our lodge with information on her fucking brother, my mind started going. My cock pulsed with life and my veins ran hot with the fire in her eyes. That long blonde hair whipping around her shoulders and those kaleidoscope eyes. Yellows and blues and greens.

  I still didn’t fucking know what color her eyes were.

  Knox slammed the door behind him and I got up to go look out the window. I wanted to make sure him and Monroe got off safely. That was my role in this club. Making sure everyone was okay. I was the protector. The blood-shedder. The punisher, in any form it came. No one fucked with my club or the people they cared about outside of it.

  Ever.

  I wondered what Everly was doing. I knew her greatest concern was Rex finding out what she’d done. She’d been in a panic that day about it after spilling her guts to us. She was a brave woman, but she was scared as hell.

  And she should’ve been.

  This was some scary shit.

  After Knox dropped her back at her car, he told her that our club would look out for her. Once Monroe found out about what Everly knew, her law firm convinced Everly to do a written testimony of what she saw. So, the firm could use it for the RICO case along with helping close some of the cold cases they had in their files. We only convinced her because then she wouldn’t have to testify in open court. Her brother would never know it was her, until they were sealing his jail cell.

  I watched as Monroe’s car fell into the horizon before I went and sat back down. I loved moments like this. When the lodge was quiet and dark, with no one there except me. Being bloodthirsty meant always hearing the screams of others. Them begging for their lives and to not be hurt. And silence was the only way to counteract the voices I still heard in my head. The soft darkness of silence was the only antidote I had to the harsh darkness of my mind after I closed my eyes at night.

  But for a few days now, things had been different.

  I didn’t see the faces of those I’d killed when I closed my eyes.

  I saw her.

  Everly.

  With her fuller lower lip and her chameleon eyes and that beautiful blonde hair I wanted a fistful of.

  Shaking her thought from my mind, I headed over to the kitchen. I was fucking hungry and I wasn’t gonna burn the gas heading into town to get food for one. I threw open the fridge and started pulling out some shit. Chicken. Grape tomatoes. Spinach. Cheese I could grate. I was glad Rock loved to eat well because I fucking hated grocery shopping. I learned how to cook from my mom when I was younger, but the grocery store was something I hated. Aisles and aisles of fucking food and people breathing down your neck to get to the latest deal their coupons boasted of.

  Rock fucking did the grocery shopping. And I did the cooking.

  I put some oil in a pan and seasoned the chicken breast on each side. I slapped it in there, the oil bubbling and popping. I dodged the white-hot bullets coming out of the pan before I split the chicken breast in half. Then I topped it with the grape tomatoes I’d chopped up, the spinach I’d shredded, and the cheese that would bind everything together.

  I whipped up some mashed potatoes while the chicken slow-cooking in the pan. I made my mashed potatoes a little different. I peeled, salted, and boiled them. Then I drained the water and threw in sour cream and butter. Mixed that shit all up until it was smooth, then I added A-1 steak sauce.

  Oh, yes. Right into my fucking potatoes. That shit was fucking good, and it made my mouth water every damn time I smelled it.

  My father was a piece of shit, but my mother was wonderful. Her escape from her fucked up marriage was cooking. And she could hold her own with the rest of them. Her macaroni and cheese and fucking meatloaf were off the charts. But I always loved the holidays with her. She made this pineapple-and-honey glazed ham that outdid anything anyone could buy in a fucking store.

  I’d inherited the binder of all her recipes when she’d died.

  I set the mashed potatoes off to the side and began to cook up some asparagus. I took the two halves of chicken breasts and put them on a plate, then threw the vegetables into the chicken grease. A little salt, a little minced garlic, and I cooked them until they were a little charred. That smoky garlic flavors along with that crunch? There was nothing fucking better.

  I grabbed a beer from the fridge and put everything on the kitchen table.
Ours was small. Didn’t seat hardly four people. Probably because we never fucking used it. We had it in case we needed it, but it was the only piece of furniture in the damn lodge that still looked brand new.

  I was the only one that actually cooked and ate here.

  I popped open my beer with my hand and took a long pull. My mind drifted back to Everly. What she was doing. Where she was. Who she was with. Was she safe? Was she still scared? Shit, did Everly live with her brother? Was she having to dance around him and act like she didn’t know anything? Was she a good liar like that? Would she be able to contact us if she was in trouble?

  Fuck. My mind was running away from me again.

  My cell phone rang in my pocket and I groaned. A piping hot home-cooked meal and I couldn’t even get started on it. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and glanced at the number, then straightened up when I saw who was calling.

  “What’s up, Diesel?”

  “You weren’t with Knox,” he said.

  “Nope. Not coming today,” I said.

  “Why not?” he asked.

  “Didn’t feel like drinking.”

  “You. Grave. Didn’t feel like drinking.”

  “Did you not hear me well the first time?” I asked.

  “The attitude isn’t necessary. You good?” he asked.

  “I’m good. Knox made sure I was good. I just didn’t feel like coming out today. Don’t know what the damn deal is.”

  “The damn deal is that we all went drinking specifically so you would come out. You’ve been at that lodge for five fucking days, Grave.”

  “I told you, I’m having my apartment bug-bombed.

  “Except that’s not true.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “I rode by your place to see how the progress was coming along. Nothing’s been touched at your apartment.”

  “Maybe they’re done and haven’t contacted me yet.”

  “Cut the shit, Grave. You know how this works with me.”

  “How long have you known?” I asked.

  “Since the lie came out of your face. You know you can’t lie to me. No one can,” he said. “So, since I’m outside of the bar about to head in, you can tell me why you’re really staying at the lodge instead of your apartment.”

  “Maybe I just want to be at the lodge. That such a bad thing?” I asked.

  “Does it have something to do with Everly?”

  “Why the fuck does everyone think it has something to do with her?”

  “Because she’s the only factor that changed over the past week.”

  “Has anyone told you that your deduction skills are bullshit and that they don’t like them?”

  “Every day,” he said. “I’m not going to get into why I think you’re worried, so I’ll just say this. Stay safe. She’s going to be all right.”

  “We don’t know that. What if she lives with Rex? Did anyone ask her that? Does anyone know where she lives at all?”

  “Monroe has reassured us she’s keeping tabs on Everly to make sure she’s safe. Her law firm is trying to convince her to go into witness protection.”

  “Witness Protection is bullshit. We could protect her better and you know that. I could protect her better.”

  “So, what do you want me to do?” he asked.

  “Lean on Monroe. Have her drop the idea of witness protection. Get her to tell us where Everly’s living. I can make daily drive-bys and shit.”

  “And this has nothing to do with the overt flirting tactics you used on her when she came to us?” he asked.

  “So, what if she’s pretty? I’m not getting my dick wet with Rex’s fucking sister. Are you insane?”

  “Just making sure your head’s in the right place. But, no. I’m still not leaning on Monroe.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “She’s pregnant, Grave. She’s working one of the most high-profile cases of her career as her first one straight out of law school. She doesn’t need people leaning on her. She needs people trusting her opinion and supporting her.”

  “That’s Knox’s job. Not ours,” I said.

  “So long as I’m fucking President of this club it will be. You’re starting to sound a lot like the unethical asshole we bat out of this town, Grave.”

  “I’m not talking about hurting her, Diesel Damn.”

  “Good. You better not be.”

  “But if Everly ever gets herself into trouble, it blows this entire damn thing out of the water. Don’t you think we should at least know where she is in case she doesn’t check in with Monroe or something?”

  The silence on the end of the phone meant I had Diesel in a corner.

  “That’s actually not a bad argument,” he said.

  “Thanks.”

  “Why didn’t you lead with that?” he asked.

  “Because I didn’t think I would have to. I’ve never been denied the right to protect someone before. Didn’t think this club would start now,” I said.

  “The only reason we’ve been putting you off it is because we all saw how much you flirted with her when she was at the lodge talking to us. How instantaneous your compassion was for her. You can’t fucking protect her to the best of your ability if you’re compromised.”

  “Fucking watch me, Diesel”

  “So, you are compromised.”

  “Either get me the damn address or don’t. It was just a fucking suggestion,” I said.

  “You really should come drinking tonight. We could all use it.”

  “I’m good. Got dinner getting cold.”

  “Shit. I missed a Grave dinner for this? I should come back,” Diesel said.

  “There’s more than plenty.”

  “You owe me one.”

  “I always owe you one,” I said. “Talk to you later, Diesel.”

  “We’ll be back after a while, Grave.”

  I hung up the phone and sighed. I was tired of them giving me a hard time about flirting with Everly. It was just to put a damn smile on her face. Get her to calm down and talk with us. If she wanted to bang, sure. I’d get my cock wet between her thighs. But it wasn’t like it was anything serious. She was a valuable asset to our club and this RICO case and I was going to do anything I could to not only make sure she was safe, but make sure she knew she had testified for some good men.

  Plus, it wasn’t my fault she was hot as fuck.

  I dipped into the mashed potatoes and slammed some onto my plate. I was fucking starving. I scooped up some asparagus and picked up my fork, ready to fucking go to town. I’d worked my ass off through lunch with the guys trying to ride around town and put more pieces together. I was going to eat all this damn food and probably still have room for dessert.

  Then, a knock came at the door of the lodge.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” I asked.

  I looked at the food growing cold on my damn plate. But then the knock came again. Faster and lighter. Like someone was in a hurry to get someone else’s attention.

  “Hello? Knox? Are you there?”

  I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

  Was that who I thought it was?

  Were my ears playing tricks on me?

  “Knox? Anyone? There’s a bike out here. Please. I need to talk.”

  Everly.

  Everly was at the fucking front door.

  Chapter 2

  Everly

  As I stared out into the horizon, the wind began whipping around me. Kicking up my hair around my shoulders and laying it off to the side. My hair was getting long. It was almost halfway down my back. I put on my sunglasses to shield my eyes from the dirt being kicked up as I rocked slowly on the porch swing in my backyard.

  Our backyard, really.

  “Sis? You home?”

  I groaned as Rex’s voice came fluttering out onto the porch.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Where the fuck’s dinner?” Rex asked.

  “In the fridge waiting to be cooked by an able-bod
ied man,” I said.

  “I’ve been working all day. Why the hell didn’t you cook dinner?”

  “Because I’ve been working all day, too, asshole.”

  “Come on. This was your night to cook.”

  “I can order us some pizza. Or Chinese.”

  “Damn it, Everly. You always fucking order out on your night to cook. Why can’t you make me that damn stew you’re so good at making? Or that roast? Fuck me, I’d eat that roast any time of day,” he said.

  “Sorry. Long day.”

  “Wanna talk about it?”

  “Not with you, no.”

  “Fine. Asshole. I’m good with pizza, then. Loads of vegetables but-”

  “None of those black olives. Got it,” I said.

  “At least you remember something,” he said underneath his breath.

  I sighed as the sliding door to the porch closed behind him. My brother really was the laziest asshole alive. My night to cook? I’d cooked the past two nights because of his lazy ass. And he wanted to hold me to the schedule since it was actually my night to cook? Hell no. I was ordering our asses some pizza and I was going to eat it while I watched the sun set over the horizon.

  It was the only thing about my day I enjoyed anymore.

  I’d had a long day at work. I was a newly-appointed General Manager for the grocery store in town. I’d been working there ever since I could legally work and made sure I positioned myself to run that damn place someday. So much shit needed to be changed about how that place was run and I wanted to make sure it happened. Mostly because I knew I could, and partially because the workers there deserved better. Like Miss Betty in produce who injured her arm and was still forced to work if she wanted her worker’s compensation to go through. Or Mr. Rodney in the back who would work until he was eighty because his 401(k) was ‘mysteriously’ absorbed somehow in the transfer of ownership of the entire fucking grocery chain.

  They deserved better, and I set out to do better by them. Mostly because they were my friends, but partially because they were family, too.

  I’d grown up with Mr. Rodney and Miss Betty’s advice. My parents were constantly drunk and high off their asses when I was growing up. I’d have to cash my paychecks and go straight to the bank to pay shit before I could go home. Because once I came home with any cash my parents would find a way to take it from me. It was like they could smell the damn green walking into the house. They had their noses trained for it.