Fender: Soulless Kings MC Read online

  Fender

  Soulless Kings MC

  Andi Rhodes

  Nicole Cypher

  Copyright © 2020 by Andi Rhodes and Nicole Cypher

  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.

  Cover Artwork - © Amanda Walker PA & Design Services

  This one is for all of our readers! Because of you, we get to do what we love every single day. We can’t thank you enough for that <3

  Also by Andi Rhodes

  Broken Rebel Brotherhood Series

  Broken Souls

  Broken Innocence

  Broken Boundaries

  Broken Rebel Brotherhood - Complete Series

  Bastards and Badges Series

  Stark Revenge

  Slade’s Fall

  Soulless Kings MC

  Fender

  Also by Nicole Cypher

  The Darker Places Series:

  DESIRED

  DEPLORABLE

  DETHRONED

  DEMOLISHED

  Soulless Kings MC:

  FENDER

  Standalone Novels:

  UNHINGED

  JULIUS

  Contents

  Prologue

  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

  Bonus Chapter

  Thank you

  About Andi Rhodes

  About Nicole Cypher

  Also by Andi Rhodes

  Also by Nicole Cypher

  Prologue

  They say your life flashes before your eyes at the moment just before death. They fucking lied.

  Fender

  Slick. Wet. Hot. Perfect.

  That’s the only way to describe the pussy I’m buried in. Charlie moans and the sound seems to echo around us in flawless rhythm with the headboard banging against the wall.

  “That’s it, baby,” I growl as I reach between our bodies and rub circles over her clit with my thumb.

  Charlie’s eyes resemble an emerald in its purest form, and I’m lost, drowning in a sea of green. They widen and her pupils dilate the second her orgasm begins. Tingles race down my spine, and my body tenses as I join her.

  We explode together, and the sounds we’ve created die down. My heart is pounding, and her breathing is labored. I roll off of her, carrying her with me and tucking her into my side.

  “Holy shit, Fender.”

  “What?” I ask, a grin tugging at my lips. She always says the same thing after we fuck. Always.

  “It gets better every—”

  “Fender, get the fuck out here!”

  The pounding on my door and the urgency in Piston’s voice has me springing from the bed and grabbing my gun from the nightstand. That’s when it registers. Gunshots, yelling, glass shattering.

  “Fender! Now!” Piston’s fist is an inch away from my face when I throw open the door. “Black Savages stormed the club. Get dressed and c’mon!”

  I glance over my shoulder and see Charlie shoving her legs into her jeans. Her ass is encased in the black lace I pulled off her body with my teeth not a half hour ago. I hate to see her cover her flesh, but I can’t think about that right now.

  “Get in the fuckin’ closet and don’t come out. Not for anything.” I grip her bicep and drag her to the door in the corner of the room, throw it open and shove her in.

  “Maybe I can talk to them. Maybe I—”

  “No. They’re past talking and so am I.” I crush her lips in a bruising kiss before shutting the door in her face.

  I dress as quickly as I can and mentally prepare for what I’m about to see. Certainly nothing good. I make my way down the hall, my gun cocked and ready to blow away any Savage that gets in my path.

  I just pray it’s not Dyno. It would be great to take out the president of the Black Savages, but I can’t do that to Charlie. I can’t kill her dad.

  I round the corner into the main room of the clubhouse and am shocked at the carnage. The floor is littered with broken liquor bottles and booze. There’s also blood and bodies, and it’s hard to tell what club the deceased belong to.

  “Fender!”

  I whirl toward the voice and see my father, his shirt soaked in blood, kneeling on the floor. My mother is cocooned in his arms, her body limp. Everything else melts away. The shouting, the gunfire, the mayhem. Cold calm washes over me as I walk toward my parents, ignoring the bullets whizzing past my head. Maybe I’d get lucky and one would take me out so I wouldn’t have to face what I know is coming.

  Time speeds up the closer I get. I drop to my knees. “Where are you hit?”

  My father’s stare is blank, empty. When he doesn’t respond, I run my hands over his chest to determine if the blood is his or all from the hole I can now see in my mother’s head. I don’t allow myself to feel the loss. I can’t afford to fall apart right now. My fingers hit a soft spot, a hole, on the left side of my father’s chest. I rip the sleeves from his shirt and stuff the fabric in the hole to slow the bleeding. He hisses in pain, but that’s his only reaction.

  “Stay here,” I shout at him, praying he hears what I’m saying. “I’ll be back.”

  I lunge to my feet and storm into the middle of the room. I take a deep breath and find my first target. I point the gun and squeeze the trigger, not stopping until I’ve systematically taken out every Black Savage still standing, emptying the clip in the process.

  “What the fuck was that?” Piston asks, walking through the bodies, kicking a few as he goes.

  “Who’d we lose?” I survey the scene, trying to answer my own question.

  “Stunner, Carbon, Phantom,” Piston rubs his head, leaving a streak of blood. He’s looking around, same as me. His head stops moving, and his gaze lands on something behind me. “Aw, fuck.”

  I slowly turn around, needing to see what he sees, and instantly regret it. My father is slumped over, both my parents dead. It’s fitting, I suppose. They lived for the club and died for it. It’s what they would’ve wanted, to go out together in a blaze of glory.

  Bang!

  I pivot around at the gunshot, shocked to hear it because I thought the chaos was over. Charlie’s standing there, her eyes wide, her arms straight, the gun in her hand. I follow her gaze to the man she just killed. Sharp, the Black Savages’ Sergeant at Arms, is lying on the floor with a bullet hole between his eyes.

  “He was gonna kill you,” she mumbles.

  “You need to leave,” Piston demands. “You don’t belong here.”

  My eyes dart back and forth between the woman I love and my best friend. He’s absolutely right. She shouldn’t be here. Especially now. But I don’t have it in me to make her leave.

  “Did you do this?” Joker shouts from behind Piston, directing the question at Charlie. “Precious Black Savage
s’ princess coordinates Soulless Kings’ massacre. Isn’t spreading your legs enough to secure your place?”

  Charlie’s arms drop to her sides, and the gun clanks to the floor. She’s staring at me, silently begging me to defend her, protect her from the lies my brother’s spewing. Problem is, I can’t. What if he’s right?

  “Get the fuck out!” Joker shouts, pointing toward the exit.

  Charlie’s eyes well with tears as she turns and runs out the front door. In my twenty-three years on this Earth, I’ve stared down the barrel of a gun more times than I can count, and it doesn’t hold a candle to what I’m experiencing right now.

  I was born to be a Soulless King, raised to be a ruthless, loyal motherfucker. None of that prepared me for this moment. Nothing could make losing so much any easier to swallow.

  They say your life flashes before your eyes at the moment just before death. They fucking lied.

  Your life flashes before your eyes at the moment you lose everything you live for.

  Chapter One

  They told me I couldn’t outrun my demons. At least I tried.

  Charlie

  Four years later...

  My black dress itches. There’s a tag in the collar that scratches my skin with every movement, but I welcome the irritation and give it all my attention. Anything to distract myself from the steps I take toward the church and the heavy door I’m not sure I’ll be able to open with my shaky hands.

  I stand outside it, staring at the metal ring attached to it as a knocker and wonder if anyone ever uses it.

  “Excuse me,” a couple says from behind me, and I jump. I spin to face them and take a step to my right to get out of their way. Neither of them seem familiar, and the dull ache that’s been in my stomach ever since I got the news twists into a heavy blow. Would I have known them if I had stayed? Would they know me?

  The man opens the door and ushers the woman in, glancing at me as if to see if I’ve worked up the courage to walk in or not. There’s a distastefulness to his expression, with his turned down lips and slightly wrinkled nose, that makes me think he does know me.

  I duck my head and hurry inside, trying not to read the thoughts of everyone who comes into contact with me today, but I fail. I can see it on their faces after they squint and decipher who I am.

  Traitor.

  Deserter.

  Dishonorable.

  I scurry into the room filled with pews and a casket at the head of them. It’s open, and it’s weird to think of that as a possibility. I always saw my father going out with gunfire, his enemies shooting him repeatedly in the head to ensure the Black Savages’ king was dead. Or maybe someone blowing up our—my family’s—house or slitting his throat as he sleeps. I didn’t picture something as human as a stroke killing my father… my daddy.

  Tears well in my eyes, and I stand off to the side for a moment to regain my composure. He wouldn’t have wanted me to cry. It’s a sign of surrender, and that is not something we do in my family.

  I wipe underneath my eyes and breathe in through my nose to steady myself. I straighten my spine and square my shoulders before going back to the center isle and walking up to the front row where I belong, ignoring all of the whispers and stares that fill the room like locusts as I pass by.

  My mother is already there, along with my cousin Maggie, sister Sylvia, and Aunt Annabelle. I pause in front of my mother, but she doesn’t look at me. Her eyes are hardened as she stares right through me to get her point across.

  I am not welcome here.

  “Charlotte,” Maggie whispers, patting the seat beside her. I sigh and walk to Maggie before sitting on the pew next to her.

  “I’m so glad you’re here.” She forces a smile and takes my hand, but I don’t have the heart to return the gesture. I never have. My father always told me my biggest downfall was my inability to fake my emotions. I’m not a charmer. What you see is what you get.

  Maggie makes me wish I was different, though. She’s the closest tie I have to this life and the only one who doesn’t seem to hate me for leaving it. She’s the one who called to tell me my father died. I’m not sure I would’ve known otherwise.

  Leaving the family didn’t just mean leaving my mother and father. It meant leaving the Black Savages. Loyalty is at the epicenter of their core beliefs, and leaving is like turning your back on them. It’s betrayal, treason. Forbidden.

  My father must have hated me before he died, but I can’t help but notice he never sent anyone after me. That’s always made me fear he knew the reason I left or what I’d done, but I can’t let my mind go there. Not today.

  Today, I am not my father’s embarrassment. Today, I am my daddy’s little girl.

  The Black Savages’ chaplain does the service, and he goes on about all of the good qualities my father possessed that the club’s principles are founded on. He talks about an afterlife and pretends my father was a good man who’s being rewarded with streets of gold. Or maybe he isn’t pretending. Maybe he believes it. I wish I could.

  He hands the podium over to members of the MC, and Dad’s top three guys take turns telling stories about their prez and giving their respects. I laugh along with the congregation of bikers and associates when Missile tells a story about my dad when he first joined the MC. The pain in my stomach lessens hearing it.

  I was scared I’d forget the happy memories of Daddy, but hearing about this side of him opens up a part of my mind that floods me with warmth. He taught me how to ride my first bike. Not a bicycle like most little girls, no. A small little Kawasaki where I immediately revved the engine too much and threw the bike out from under me. Daddy laughed, and after the initial shock, I laughed with him.

  Leal, my father’s right-hand man and the apparent new president of the club, comes up last. Tears escape his eyes as he talks about my father like he was the most honorable man on the face of this earth. Leal has been my dad’s best friend since before I was born, and my father respected him so much he gave him his road name, which is an English word for loyalty. That’s the strongest trait anyone can possess, and Leal carried it like a badge of honor. He pins his eyes on me as he talks about Dad during the birth of his first child, me, and how it changed his life forever.

  He talks like he’s speaking directly to me, and I force myself not to take my eyes away. My cheeks heat, but my face remains impassive. As much as I hate the eyes on me, I’m glad he’s doing this. He speaks with compassion and it sounds as if he’s welcoming me back without saying the words.

  He moves on to another subject, and I sit perfectly still, only giving him a single nod as he finishes and leaves the podium. He nods back, and I wish I could run up and throw my arms around him. I would cry into his chest and tell him how much I miss Dad. I’d tell him how I never wanted to abandon them, but I had no choice. I couldn’t take this life anymore. I didn’t want it.

  My blood relatives are up next, and I watch their mouths move but don’t hear a word they say. My hands are sweaty, and the tips of my fingers throb with my heartbeat. I don’t know if they’ve ever done that before.

  The chaplain asks if anyone else would like to say a few words, and I take a deep breath before standing. My mother gives me a pointed stare as if to say sit down, but I ignore it and walk behind the podium.

  I practiced this speech on the drive from my new home in South Carolina to my old one in Oregon. I’ve rehearsed it more times than I can remember, but now that I’m up here, my mind goes blank. Cotton fills my mouth and soaks up all the moisture.

  I clear my throat into the microphone.

  “Hello and thank you for coming,” I say, as if I’m the one welcoming them here. I’m not even welcome here. “As some of you may know, I’m Dyno’s eldest daughter. We didn’t always see eye to eye, but…”

  Fuck. I’m crying. The first tear has spilled over, and my throat feels full of imaginary gunk that I know is only emotion.

  Never cry, baby girl. Crying is weak. Crying is surrender. Black Savages
don’t do that.

  “But I loved him very much.” My voice cracks, and I wipe my cheeks on my itchy dress’s sleeve.

  I scan the faces of the crowd, seeing mostly disgust but also a little bit of pity. My eyes land on a man at the back, his suit standing out but probably hiding his identity from most of the crowd. He doesn’t even look like Fender in it, but maybe that’s because it’s been four years. He looks so much older now, like it’s been twenty. The mischievous smile I used to admire isn’t there, but one look at his hardened face and I can tell he hasn’t sported it in a long time. Probably not since that day. His dark hair is combed back, and his beard is neatly trimmed. His gray eyes lock with mine, but no emotion comes over his face.

  Why is he here? It’s the first question that comes to my mind, but the second overshadows it.

  Does he hate me too?

  “Thank you,” I say into the microphone, abandoning the idea of rectifying my failed speech. I hear people murmur, but I keep my head down as I walk back to my seat. I sit next to Maggie again, and she squeezes my hand and says nothing as I cry. There isn’t any hope of holding the tears back now. They flow down my face with ease, and this time, I don’t wipe them away.

  It’s a bitter kind of irony that this is exactly what I know my father wanted, for me to come home. To join my family again and be the daughter he always wanted me to be. To pledge my loyalty to the Black Savages and never stray from that again. I don’t think he ever knew just how much I betrayed him, but I don’t know how much it matters anymore. I cry harder and cover my mouth to keep sobs from escaping.