Specter's Wake Read online

  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author makes no claims to, but instead acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following marks mentioned in this work of fiction.

  Copyright © 2020 by Quinn Ryder

  Specter’s Wake by Q. Ryder

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copy-right reserved above, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without written permission of above copyright owner of this book, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Editor: Fancy Norman Peterson,

  Proofreaders: Chrystal Saunders-Harman and Laura Sims

  Cover Design: Quinn Ryder

  Cover photo art: Jean Woodfin of JW Photography

  Model: Boomer Paschall

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Edition: June 2020

  Library of Congress Cataloging-In-Publication Data has been applied for

  Ryder, Q

  Specter’s Wake – 1st Edition

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Synopsis

  Trigger Warning

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Epilogue

  Soundtrack

  Cipher’s Code Synopsis

  Acknowledgements:

  Author Links:

  About the Author

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to Rebekah:

  Words seem insignificant in comparison to how much your friendship and support has meant to me these past few years. Even though it’s only been four years, it seems like I’ve known you my whole life. You’ve become one of my best friends, and I know you’ll be a part of my tribe for forever because I’m keeping you. (It puts the lotion on the skin . . .) Thanks for riding this insane ride with me and encouraging me to write this book. I don’t think I would’ve pursued it without you helping me along the way.

  XoXo

  Quinn

  Synopsis

  And in his wake, he left behind a trail of endless, shimmering tears . . .

  Specter

  The man they once knew is dead, buried in a shallow grave outside of town with a bullet hole through his back. Their assassination failed, underestimating me, my thirst for life, and my love for Faith.

  I never meant for my absence to destroy her, yet staying gone was the only way I could keep her protected. For the last seven years, I’ve laid low, traveling through life and riding the streets like a ghost, never being more than a shadow of what I used to be. I kept tabs on her along the way, but now that I know her life’s in danger, I think it’s time for Specter to claw his way out of the grave they buried him in and seek out his revenge.

  I know infiltrating the Devil’s Armada again won’t be easy, especially since everyone thinks I’m dead, but I’ll do anything I can to protect Faith—even if it means putting myself in danger and confronting my murderer once and for all.

  Trigger Warning

  This book is intended for mature audiences (18+) and may contain scenes that could be triggering for some readers. This book is a work of fiction and created purely to entertain readers. If foul language and darker situations are not your thing, then this book may not be for you. The Armada was created as part of Quinn Ryder’s universe and there may be inaccuracies to real-world situations inside some of her books. Please do not share, copy, or distribute this book without Quinn’s permission, as it is a direct copyright violation.

  Prologue

  Midas

  I never saw it coming.

  As the club’s Tail Gunner, it was my job to watch everyone’s back. You could call me the club safety man, the one that made sure the roads were clear, steady, and free to ride. As the rear lead, I was the Road Captain’s righthand guy. A shadow sweeper that kept everyone in their lane and out of harm’s way. My loyalty bled brighter than the cut on my back. I never questioned what I was told. I kept my eyes on the road and believed in the family I helped to protect. I always had everyone’s back until someone shot me in mine.

  The bastard couldn’t even look me in the eye. He waited until I wasn’t looking to take me out of the equation, and when he thought he got the best of me, he buried me in a shallow grave on the outskirts of town.

  I’ve tried to figure out what I did wrong. What I could’ve said to make one of my own brothers turn on me, but none of it makes any sense. I did everything right. I was dedicated to the family. I never asked questions, even when they did shit that I didn’t agree with.

  If I hadn’t caught a glimpse of the familiar Devil’s Armada logo right before he started shoveling dirt over my nearly dead body; I would’ve never believed that someone from the family had a hand in my murder attempt. I wish I could’ve seen his face, but all I could see was the cut on his back and a flash of dark hair.

  He may have buried Midas in that shallow grave, but it was a different man that clawed his way out of the muddied earth thirsting for revenge. Now that I’ve lost the only family I’ve ever had; all I have left to live for is her. The hardest part about that night wasn’t digging myself out of my grave or recovering from my bullet wound; it was turning my back on Faith and allowing her to think I was dead.

  Returning to the family without knowing who tried to kill me would only put her in danger. I couldn’t risk her life, not when I knew somebody wanted me dead. They’d kill her to get to me, and her life meant more to me than my own life ever would. So, I left her—I left them all. I had to turn my back on the only woman who has ever truly loved me for me. She didn’t care that I was bruised and broken. She didn’t see my size and run away like I was some side show freak. Faith loved me unconditionally. It didn’t matter that I was three-hundred fifty pounds of leather and abandonment issues; she loved every pound on my body and all the scars hidden underneath.

  It was that unconditional acceptance that drew me to her in the first place. Faith is the type of woman who loved everyone, and everyone loved her in return. It was easy to fall in love with someone who’s only flaw was being too kind. That’s what I loved most about her. Faith didn’t have a mean bone in her body, and I did everything in my power to protect her from the club’s extracurricular activities.

  I was ready to make her my Old Lady and circle that beautiful finger with my ring. That ring now sits heavy in my pocket, waiting for the day I can drop to one knee and pledge my life to her. She had no idea I was going to propose, and it kills me that they took that moment away from us. That’s why leaving her hurt me more than the betrayal of my brothers. Faith was my world, and someo
ne worked incredibly hard to shatter that world into itty-bitty pieces. I have no idea what her life’s been like since I’ve been away, or if she’ll even forgive me for leaving her like this. But I have to try. My life just isn’t the same without her in it.

  It’s been seven long years since I last saw her, and I didn’t plan on coming out of hiding this soon, but when I got a mysterious email from an unknown email address, telling me that Faith’s life was in danger, I knew it was time to come out of hiding and reclaim what’s mine.

  My only questions now are, who was the mysterious mailer? How did they find me? And can I trust what they’re telling me is true?

  Midas may be dead, but the man who crawled out of his grave is ready to return home and find his Faith again.

  Chapter One

  Faith

  Everybody knows not to enter Devil’s Armada territory. There are strict rules involving the lines that have been drawn between the four major MC’s that ride in Garter County. Our club owns most of the county and the other three get to pick through the scraps. That’s how it’s always been. The Scorched Brotherhood rides in the east, the Venomous Vipers claimed what’s left of the west, and the Diablo Saints do their best to take what’s not theirs. It’s a hierarchy that’s lasted for over two decades and everyone knows that if they step across our borders, it’s probably the last step they’ll ever take.

  That’s the kind of attitude you need to have when you ride on the outside of the law. I used to believe in the good of humanity. I once dreamed of that white picket fence and a life that wasn’t all about booze, male egos, and motorcycles. Then my dream for a happier life died when the man I loved was murdered in cold blood. His death hardened me. I went from being a kind, carefree spirit, to the mean bitch that runs the club’s bar. Everyone knows better than to mess with me because if they do, my family will step in. I can hold my own, but it’s nice to know that a bunch of burly men have my back when shit starts to get hairy. Being the younger sister of the club president does have its perks.

  I do my best to stay out of club business, but occasionally, they bring their shit into my bar. I can’t even count how many times I’ve had to replace glasses and tables because some idiot decided to wander in here where they don’t belong. The rules are simple. I only serve club members, their friends, and the few sweetbutts who are lucky enough to drag their high heels and boots through my bar. I guess that’s why when he walked through the door it caught me totally off guard. Civilians don’t just waltz into The Devil’s Watering Hole—they know better.

  Yet there he was, six feet of pure muscle and tattoos, strolling through the front door like he owned the place. He looked around, pausing for a few seconds when he saw me standing behind the bar, before moving over to a dark booth in the corner. He didn’t pick up a menu and he didn’t look around. He just sat in the corner, fingers clasped together, staring at his hands like he was saying a silent prayer.

  “Are you fucking lost?” I yelled from behind the bar.

  The man didn’t look up, nor did he acknowledge my question, which only pissed me off.

  “Listen, asshole, this bar is only for the Devil’s Armada and their friends. You’re obviously not part of the Armada, and sure as shit ain’t one of our friends, so why don’t you get up and take your happy ass straight back out that door, before my family comes in here and scrapes you across the pavement.”

  When he didn’t move from the booth, I started to panic. My brother warned me that things were starting to heat up between the club and our rivals, the Diablo Saints. He gave me a gun for my protection and I’ve never had to use it before, but for some reason this man was making me feel uneasy.

  I grabbed the pistol from behind the counter and held it with shaking hands. At the moment, I was the only person in the bar other than him. The family was at Church having one of their secret meetings, and my bar-back had the day off. I was hesitant to approach him, even though he wasn’t wearing anything that showed an allegiance to a rival MC.

  I walked over toward his booth and aimed the gun straight at his temple, ready to pull the trigger if he dared to move.

  “I said get out.”

  He finally looked up at me, and to my surprise, instead of getting angry that I had a gun pointed at his face, he smirked.

  “That’s a lot of heat for someone so pretty to carry.”

  I couldn’t see his eyes behind the thick black sunglasses he had on, nor could I see much of his face behind the short brown beard, but damn that voice was gripping me by the ovaries. Gruff, sexy, and riddled with mystery.

  “What?” I was flummoxed. Seriously, I had no idea what to say. I wasn’t expecting him to compliment me like that and it totally threw me off my game.

  “I said, that’s a lot of heat for someone so pretty to carry.”

  My finger tapped nervously against the trigger. I couldn’t tell if he was fucking with me or flirting with me.

  “You should probably leave before I shoot you.”

  The corners of his mouth ticked upward as his smirk slid into a full smile. For a second I was paralyzed. It’s been a long time since a man has made me feel this nervous.

  “Are you really going to shoot a man that’s been on a very long ride and only looking to buy a drink?”

  “We don’t serve outside patrons in this bar.” I tried to control my hand, but the nerves shook through me, the gun bouncing in my quaking grasp.

  “That’s too bad, because I got a dry mouth and a lot of money burning through my pocket that I’m looking to spend.” He pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket and threw it on the table.

  I had to admit, the bar was in desperate need of some new business. My brother did his best to keep us afloat, but most members didn’t like to pay for their drinks and serving alcohol to non-paying customers didn’t help keep the lights on.

  “If they catch you in here, they’ll kill you.”

  “I’m willing to take that chance.” He slid off his sunglasses and my heart literally stopped beating inside of my chest. There’s something about him that made me unable to move—a strange feeling, one that I hadn’t felt in a very long time, ignited a spark deep inside my belly. Men didn’t turn me on this way—I only used them for sex and made sure never to get too close, but the twinkle in this man’s eye after it gave me a quick wink, had my face heating up like a volcano. What the fuck was happening to me?

  My arms dropped, taking my guard down with it, and what I said next surprised me.

  “So, tell me, Stranger, what’s your poison?”

  His smile spread even further. “Darling, I thought you’d never ask.”

  Chapter Two

  Holden

  I had to compose myself when I walked through the bar door. I wasn’t expecting to see her so soon, but there she was, standing behind the bar, looking even more beautiful than when I last saw her. I stood there for a second just staring at her, before I quickly found a booth near the back of the bar. I didn’t want to blow my cover too soon, and the longer I stood there, the more eager I was to tell her I had come back for her. I could feel her eyes watching me the whole time, and when she started shouting at me, I couldn’t help but smile.

  This woman was nothing like the Faith I remembered. She was sassy and strong. She handled a gun like she actually knew how to use it, even if her hand shook like it was rattled with nerves. The Faith I left behind wouldn’t touch a gun. She didn’t want to get involved in the club business; now she was running their bar.

  I think back to that night I was shot and how her image was the only thing that drove me to dig myself out of that grave. I remember that night very vividly, almost as if I was still clawing my way out of the earth, desperate to breathe in clean air again.

  Dirt clung to my tongue like a thick paste that clogged the back of my throat. I woke up briefly as my attacker shoveled dirt down on top of me, but I was in shock and couldn’t call out for help. I’ll admit, I was a little bit afraid, too. If I called out for h
elp, he’d just shoot me again, but this time he would finish the job.

  I waited until I heard the muffled roar of a motorcycle speeding away before I started digging my way back up to the surface. My back was killing me, and the more I moved, the more it felt like I was fighting for air.

  Clawing my way out of the ground was a lot harder than I expected. My body was deteriorating, and I could barely get my muscles moving as I attempted to escape the shallow grave I was placed in. Three feet more and I would’ve never found salvation, but whoever buried me was in a hurry, and they forgot one very important thing . . . I was a big man—a man who had the strength of twenty tanks when my adrenaline kicked in.

  I had to punch my way to the surface, holding what was left of my breath as I fought with the soil that held me down in my underground prison. Somehow, despite all the odds, I had survived. Pulling a three-hundred and fifty-pound body out of the dirt was not easy for me—not when I’d been shot in the back and was bleeding out externally.

  Once I was free, I laid on top of my grave, gasping for breath as blood seeped out of my wound. I needed help, but there was nobody I could trust anymore—at least no one that was connected with the club. So, I did what any other man would do after almost being murdered. I found a large log nearby, rolled it very painfully over to the grave, dropped it in the hole and covered it up. If my attacker ever came back, the log would at least give him the impression that something was buried below. Hopefully, he didn’t return to dig up my body and bury me somewhere else.

  I knew that my bike was probably still near the road, my attacker didn’t have time to get rid of it. He’d probably come back later to dispose of it when fewer people were out. I hobbled out toward the highway and found my bike hidden under some loose brush in the tree line. I barely noticed it. If it wasn’t for the moonlight hitting the chrome just right, I probably would’ve never seen it at all. My attacker had moved my bike, but only enough to not bring any attention to it.