Ruin and Rise Read Free

you never find me again. You will not have anything to do with me or my child.”
    He spoke her name again, and she shook her head.
    “You can issue threats all you want to, Dad. I can do the same.”

Z eke’s knew that if he wanted a good relationship with Dani, with his future grandchild, he needed to try and make a step in the right direction with Shakes. He sat at the front entrance of the Soldiers clubhouse, the gates stopping him from entering. The two club members, one of them a prospect, talked on a cell and stared at him. He knew they’d let him in. They’d be fucking stupid not to.
    The patched-in member he knew was called Nerd stepped away from the gate and bent down to stare at Zeke.
    “Demon know you coming by?” The big motherfucker said, a toothpick hanging out of his mouth.
    “Would it matter if he did? Just let me the fuck in,” Zeke ground out, not hiding his anger or annoyance.
    Nerd slowly stood, gestured for the prospect, and then the gates slowly opened.
    Zeke didn’t wait around. He drove his car up the driveway, saw the members coming out of the front doors, and knew they were on alert because he was here. But he’d come here alone, needed to talk to Demon, and if they even thought of fucking with him, they’d wish they had never intervened. He’d fucking make sure.
    He climbed out of his car, rolled his head around on his neck, and cracked his knuckles. He was packing a big fucking Glock at the small of his back, but then he didn’t go anywhere without having at least one gun on him and a couple in his car.
    He made his way toward the clubhouse, moved past the members hanging outside, their nasty fucking glares trained right at him, but he just made sure to glare right back at them. They had balls of steel right now because he was alone, and he was on their turf, but their dicks would be sucked up inside of their groins if this MC weren’t protecting them.
    He recognized a few of the Patches: Weasel, Tryck, and Vengeance. There were a couple of prospects hanging with them, joints between their lips, their black leather cuts deeming them less worthy than the members.
    When he moved into the clubhouse, the scene was something he was familiar with. Club whores were all around, half naked, their tits and ass hanging out. They were fucking, sucking cock, getting their asses smacked, and stripping for the brothers. But he didn’t see any of the members that had old ladies, and Zeke knew enough about the club to know they didn’t fuck around once they settled down. But Zeke would never settle down, would never give up the pain and pussy in abundance at his clubs. He liked getting down and dirty, liked inflicting pain and ultimately pleasure. It was who he was, and fuck anyone that thought he should be different.
    The club seemed to stand still when Zeke stared at them, as if their entire world stopped, waiting for the anvil to hit the ground, causing the fucking apocalypse.
    He saw Demon inside the meeting room, on his cell, his face showing nothing. And there was Striker, a big motherfucker that was all tatted up, pierced, and looked ready to bulldoze right through Zeke.
    “Move it, boy,” Zeke said in a low, deadly voice, not about to fuck around.
    “You want to speak with Demon, you’ll wait until the Prez is done.”
    Hell fucking no.
    Zeke wasn’t about to play games. He tensed, and it was only when Demon got off the phone and hauled ass out of the meeting room that Zeke stopped going for his gun.
    “No call before you show up at my place?” Demon asked, shoving his phone in his cut, and tipping his chin toward Striker.
    “Go get drunk or fuck something. Zeke and I clearly need to talk.”
    Striker stared at Zeke for a moment, and there was something in his eyes that had Zeke curious. It was a darkness, the same kind of darkness that Zeke himself had.
    He followed Demon into the meeting room, slammed the door shut, and felt his anger rise. “That little fucker was seconds away