Crank's Rescue (Hell Raiders MC Book 6) Read online

  Hell Raiders MC 6

  Aden Lowe

  ©2017 by Aden Lowe. All rights reserved.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication or series may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of Aden Lowe or his legal representative.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, brands, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and owners of various products and locations referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication or use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Thank you for purchasing an authorized copy of this book. By doing so, you say NO to Piracy and support authors so they can continue to bring you the books you enjoy. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and may not be re-sold or given away to other people.

  Author's Note: This book contains adult situations and language, violence, and sexual activity. Mature readers only.

  Dedicated To:

  The memory of Little Orphan Annie, and Lil Bit, two very special little cats who came into my life, and had to leave while this book was being written. I'm not a cat person, but I'm grateful to have had the chance to know these two. When I can, I'll add their stories to my website.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS:

  I do this to myself every damn time, and choose subject matter that's difficult for me to write. I have a lot of people to thank for getting me through this one, and the things that happened in life while I wrote it.

  First, the ladies of the Lowe-Down, you fucking rock. Your constant encouragement and support mean everything to me. I'm proud to call you friends and family.

  Ashley, I know I don't always say it, but thank you for all you do. I haven't been easy to work with lately for various reasons, and yet, you're still here. Love you, baby sister.

  Elyse, every time I write one of these stories, and the hero is all tortured by knowing he's not good enough for the woman he loves, you know where that comes from. I'm not good enough for you, but I'm eternally grateful you decided to make your life with me.

  Tape, thanks for knocking some sense into me a few times. Now I owe you an ass-kicking.

  Kenderly Woods, massive thanks for giving Gator his name and backstory!

  And most of all, thanks to you, for reading and supporting me and other authors in this wild ride. You can keep up with what I'm doing by subscribing to my newsletter here: http://eepurl.com/crAlFT.

  I hope you enjoy Crank's Rescue, and that you'll leave a review when you've finished

  Crank:

  It took every fucking thing I had to keep my bike pointed East, away from Sarah. But I did it. I followed my Brother and his ol' lady back to Stags Leap, and helped them get Tyler and Nicole settled. The whole time, the taste of her lingered in my mouth, and the feel of her slim body pressed against mine haunted me.

  I met Sarah when I went to Oklahoma with Fabio to deal with the aftermath of his sister's death. Sarah was the CPS caseworker involved when Alexis and her husband were killed in a traffic accident, and their kids had to be taken care of until Fabio could be found and get there. I wanted her immediately, and knew as soon as I fucked her, I would lose interest. I always did. Until I didn't.

  Every single moment turned into torture, and I caved to it. I knew I was being an unbearable bastard, and I did not give one flying fuck. It took three whole days after the return to Stags Leap before one of my Brothers called me on it.

  I stomped into the kitchen, mad at the world, intent on coffee, only to find whoever took the last cup failed to start the pot again. A couple of things might have broken during my little tantrum as I refilled everything, but at least the coffee maker survived.

  Badger came in from his usual post on the porch, leaned against the counter, and studied me for a long moment. "Who the fuck pissed in your Cheerios, man?"

  That took me back a second. "The fuck you talking about?"

  The look he gave me said very clearly I had stepped on his last nerve. "Ever since you got back, you've been about as friendly as a buck in rut. And unless I miss my guess, it's the same reason. Pussy done gone to your head."

  "Fuck you, old man." Bastard had no business prying into my personal shit.

  "Uh huh. Some little Okie chick got you jumping, don't she?" He grinned. "Don't think you're the first fucker around here that's happened to. Still ain't no reason to be all salty. You want her, go get her."

  "Well, it's not that simple." I slumped against the counter beside him with a sigh. "She's not like that."

  "Like what?"

  I shrugged, searching for the words, completely aware what my admission meant. Sarah was well and truly under my skin, and I had no idea how to handle it. "She's not like us. She has a nine-to-five, drives a leased car, and doesn't party." I shrugged again, wishing I knew a better way to say it. "She's a good girl."

  A heavy hand landed on my shoulder. "Son, if she's a good girl, then she's worth having."

  "Yeah, she is, for the right man. She's not my type, though." Far from it. Sarah was everything clean and decent, not some whore to hook up with for a while until something better came along.

  "Who's to say who the right man is?" Badger slapped my back hard enough to nearly knock me over. "You boys, too damn dense to see what's right in front of you. I don't know about you." He refilled his mug from the now full pot, and headed back to the porch, muttering about stupid boys.

  Crazy old man had no fucking clue. I poured my coffee and headed back to work. All I needed was a way to fill my time and thoughts until she faded from memory. Simple. Just like anything else I wanted, and couldn't have, I needed to simply move on.

  I planted myself in front of my computer and spent the next two hours helping another criminal hide his ill-gotten gains. The little thrill I always took in the work remained conspicuously absent. Nothing satisfied me since I came back from Oklahoma. Nothing except staring at the photo of Sarah on my phone. I spent hours looking at her, daydreaming, remembering. I'd captured her softly smiling, looking sated and happy, just a short time after I'd fucked her senseless.

  Yet her carefully worded text waited, unanswered. "Hi. Just thinking of U, hoping U made it home OK."

  I didn't have the fucking balls to reply. If I did, I might give in to the intense need for her, and beg her to come to me. I couldn't fucking do that. She had a life, a good one. One day, a good man would come along for her, and she would be happy. The only thing I could bring her was destruction. So, in what was likely the only truly decent act of my life, I let her text sit there without a reply.

  Yeah, it was a shit thing to do, but I told myself she probably didn't care that much one way or the other. I wasn't normally one to lie to myself, but in this case, I excused it. The thought of Sarah checking her phone, genuinely worried for me, rubbed my conscience raw.

  My phone rang, jarring me out of my thoughts. "Yeah, brother."

  "Crank? Is that you?" FUCK! Sarah.

  Fabio was supposed to call and let me know if the security I set up at the house was enough. "Uh, Sarah. Yeah." My brain froze up, addled at the sound of her voice.

  "I'm…uh…sorry. I hit your number by mistake. I'll…uh…let you go. Take care." And just like that, the line went dead.

  I just sat there, for what must have been twenty years, staring at my phone like it grew two heads and bit me. Fucking idiot. I had just sat there with my mouth open, and let her think I didn't want to talk to
her.

  Had she really dialed me by accident?

  The phone rang again, snapping me out of my stupor. This time I had the sense to check before answering. "Sarah?"

  "On second thought, there's something I wanted to say to you. I expected better from you. You didn't even text back to let me know you made it home alive. I mean, I knew it was just a one-time thing, no strings." The image of her pissed burned into my thoughts. Her cheeks would be flushed, chest heaving.

  My dick stirred in response. "I'm sorry." The fuck? I rarely used that word, and never to a chick. "It was a shit thing. I just figured you were only being polite."

  "Polite? After what we did together? What you did to me? No, polite is hardly what that was." Her voice rose on her anger.

  Yeah, my dick really liked that. I sighed. Time to put an end to the little fantasy. "Look, Sarah, I'm not—"

  "I know you're not interested in anything more from me than what you already had. Don't worry." The line went dead again.

  Well, fuck. What was I supposed to do with that? The right thing, the decent thing, would have been to let her stay mad. Whatever attachment she felt would fade, and she would go on with her life, the way it was meant to be. Did I ever do the right thing? Yeah, no.

  I tapped out the text. I want to taste your pussy again. A long moment passed before I hit send. I waited, but no reply came. Not that I really expected one. She probably hated me. And that was a good thing, for her, at least.

  The knock on the door interrupted my vague impulse to send another message. "Yeah?"

  Fabio stuck his head in the door. "Got a minute?"

  "Yeah, come on in." The distraction would be a good thing. Maybe the impulse to make a fool of myself over some chick would fade in a few minutes. "'Sup?"

  "You have any time to dig into that motherfucker at CPS?" Fabio obviously still wanted to bring down the bastard supervisor that sent his niece and nephew to some hellhole foster home for a kickback.

  "Not much on him yet. Basic background shit. Barely skated through college, fucking jock. Divorced the former beauty queen to fuck the cute young neighbor. I'm looking for gambling debts, that kind of shit." The quick and dirty rundown made me feel guilty. I should have worked on that shit instead of staring at Sarah's photo with a hard-on.

  Fabio nodded. "A'ight, man, just wanted to check. I want to burn that motherfucker to the ground." Rage flashed across his face, gone so quickly only someone who knew him well could have spotted it. "Tyler asked about you. He's wondering when he gets a chance to crush you on that video game again."

  Fuck. More guilt heaped up. It wasn't the kid's fault I had my head up my ass over a woman. "If it's okay, I'll come over this evening." I could give up a couple hours of sinking myself into a bottle of whiskey for Tyler.

  A quick grin. "Good. See you around seven. Kid will have the game set up and ready for you." The fucker got endless amusement from my inability to keep up with a five year-old in a video game. Different story when I smoked his ass at GTA, though.

  After Fabio left, I turned back to work, checking on my inquiries about the CPS supervisor. Nothing yet, but my sources were solid. If there was anything to be found, I would dig it up.

  The rumble of my stomach, demanding food, interrupted the coding for a gambling site I owed another club. Time for a break anyway. My legs were cramped from sitting for so long. A good stretch later, I shut everything down and headed for the kitchen. Hopefully, some of the old ladies had brought in something good I could just reheat.

  Cherry greeted me with a hug, like always, when I reached the kitchen. The older woman had sort of adopted all the Hell Raiders after her ol' man was killed. And we looked out for her. She was family.

  "How you doin', mama?" I hugged her back.

  Her genuine smile reached her eyes and lit them. "I'm good, Crank. Really good. But I hear you've been in a foul mood lately."

  The shrug I gave even felt unconvincing. "Just been busy. No big deal."

  "Bull-fucking-shit. Don't you forget who you talkin' to, son." The look she gave me said very clearly she had no intention of accepting excuses, or letting it drop.

  Fine. "Okay, I've fuckin' got a lot on my mind. Nothing for any of the nosy motherfuckers around here to worry about." The hurt in her face kicked me in the gut as I stepped around her to the fridge.

  "Crank!" The anger in Badger's tone almost froze me in my tracks.

  I spun to meet him as he strode into the kitchen. "The fuck, old man?"

  That old fucker got right up in my face. "You know I love you like a son, Crank, but if I ever hear you use such a disrespectful tone to Cherry again, I will fucking end you."

  The words gave me pause, for an instant. "Fuck you. I'm sick of every fucking body around here trying to pry into my shit. Ain't none y'all's business what's on my mind." I wanted to say a hell of a lot more, but good sense made me stop while I was ahead.

  "You stupid little bastard. The instant you come in here acting like a fucking bull in the breeding pens, growling at everybody that looks at you, breaking shit, and disrespecting people, whatever the fuck you got on that tiny little brain of yours becomes all our fucking business. Now quit being a little cocksucker and get your shit squared. I don't give a shit if you go get fucked, get fucked up, or fuck somebody up, you get it squared away." The speech ended abruptly, and he stepped away from me to slip his arms around Cherry.

  Well, when the fuck did that happen?

  I stomped out and headed around the back of the house. It pained me to admit it, but Badger was right. I was letting the way I felt about Sarah interfere with shit. If I wasn't careful, I would let it burn bridges I couldn't afford to have burned. I had to find a way to fucking get her out of my system.

  Sarah:

  For the tenth time in an hour, I slid my phone back into my pocket. Texting or calling Crank again was futile. He'd had his fun, and now he'd gone back to his life. All his sweet words meant nothing at all. He thought I was beautiful alright, for just exactly as long as it took him to get into my pants. To my shame, he accomplished that in record speed. I'd all but fell right into his bed, despite my usual rule about not sleeping with a man unless we were exclusive, at the very least. I should have known better.

  A man like him, used to life on the edge, free to pursue anything that interested him, could never be interested in someone like me beyond the few minutes it took him to add another notch in his belt. He probably got a huge kick out of telling his friends about the boring little girl he spent time with here; the good girl who listened to pop music, drove a hybrid car, and had veggie pizza with a rented DVD every Friday night.

  The thought of some sexy, adventurous biker chick under him, with his hands and mouth on her, turned my stomach. Of course, that's what Crank was used to. I was such a fool for falling for his little game, and entertaining him while he had to stay here to help his friend.

  I sucked up my hurt feelings yet again, left my phone in my pocket, and tried to concentrate on the paperwork I needed to finish. In the four weeks since Crank left, my mind tended to wonder, and work I normally found tolerable suddenly bored me to tears.

  Mr. Sennit, my supervisor, seemed to be punishing me, too. Probably for my part in his losing whatever kickback he expected for placing the Blair children in the Thomas home long-term. Since then, I suddenly had an influx of new cases, meaning mountains more paperwork, and less time for home visits, or following through with my children.

  Terrified of letting something terrible slip through the cracks because I had too many cases, I compensated by coming in early and staying late to take care of the paperwork. The stupid reports had to be done, and the forms all filed, because those provided the concrete evidence of my job performance. Too many caseworkers shortened visits and interviews in order to keep up with the paperwork, and tragedies occurred because of it.

  The office phone buzzed, interrupting my wondering thoughts. "Sarah Channing."

  "Miss Channing, my office plea
se. I need to discuss a case with you." Mr. Sennit sounded almost gleeful.

  My stomach churned with anxiety. "Of course. I'll be right there." Had I let something slip? I searched my memory, looking for some mistake, something I might have let go in my rush to get on to the next case. With a sigh, I pushed back from the desk, and headed for the Supervisor's office.

  The walk only served to increase my fear, so by the time I tapped at Mr. Sennit's door, my stomach threatened to empty itself right there on his floor.

  "Ah, Miss Channing. Good to see you. Please, close the door and have a seat." Mr. Sennit sat behind his immaculate desk, white shirt enhancing his tanned features. He kept his sleeves turned back to reveal muscular forearms, and several of the women in the office appreciated that a bit more than they should. Lately, heavily tattooed arms interested me far more.

  I closed the door softly, and sat on the edge of one of the chairs. "What can I do for you, Mr. Sennit?"

  He flashed his handsome smile. "Well, for one, you can call me Jared. Mr. Sennit is my father, and makes me sound ancient."

  I nodded, but didn't reply. A devilish grin with a slightly chipped tooth, accented by a hoop through a sexy lower lip, held far more appeal for me than the artificially whitened perfect smile in front of me.

  The smile never wavered. "Besides that, I have a couple of things. First, we have a new caseworker, which should help some with the overload. I'd like you to show her the ropes. Helena Stark, fresh out of college, starts tomorrow. I need her to shadow you, for say, a week, then we'll start giving her tasks and see how it goes."

  Dread filled me. Training a new person, even if they already knew the job, was time consuming. This one had no clue, and it would be weeks before she would be ready to lighten the burden. "I can do that, of course." It meant I would fall even further behind, and have to work harder and longer to make sure all my cases received the attention they needed. "What else?"