Raven: Stormy Souls MC, #2

By Payton Hunter

Chloe

 

Being a Nurse is a job I always loved, until recently, when a member of the local MC dies in my care. I struggle with the demands of the job, but pile on more, to quieten my guilty conscience. When the MC asks for my help with a charity project, I'm happily agree.

Little did I know that not only would I meet the sexiest biker alive, leading me into temptation, but would find my biological father.

Raven is everything I want in a man, but can I put my heart on the line and accept the Club's ways? Can I live with knowing that the hard President will make an appearance and protect his crazy club family?

He and my sperm donor are everything I shouldn't want. Will I be able to step away, though?

 

 

Raven

 

As the President of the Stormy Souls MC, I've spent all my life living for the club and my family, blood as well as chosen. I took the reins of the Stormy Souls MC after my father's imprisonment, and over the years drove the change from pure 1% er club to earning our money by completely legal means.

I'm no angel. I'm a leader, tough on myself and the brothers, not afraid to get my hands dirty.

Finding out my VP not only betrays me regularly, but is becoming a menace to society, cuts deep. Once more, I'll have to stand tall and be counted, to protect my family, and prevent a war with the dominant club.

In all the chaos, I find the sexiest, sassy, independent woman who threatens to shine a light into my dark heart. Some days I look up towards the skies and wonder if Flakey is up there, laughing his ass off at the way fate seems to insist on throwing us together.

The big question is, will she be able to handle this life? Will she be able to handle the darker underbelly of this life and me? Or will I destroy her?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Payton Hunter
• Release date: Apr 4, 2024
• ISBN: 9781738541423

Payton Hunter

I was born in 1967 in Bielefeld in Germany, where I grew up and lived until I was twenty-one. Having met my then husband, who was in the forces, we moved to the United Kingdom, where I have lived ever since. For years I worked as a Nurse in the Health System, leaving provided me with the time to write, which has been my passion and saving grace from a very young age. What started as a coping mechanism, has turned into the love of my life. Currently I live in the beautiful Lake District in the Northwest of England, in a lovely little cottage, enjoy walking in the spectacular scenery, reading, knitting and music in my spare time. When the weather allows, I ride my motorcycle as often as I can, it's the second love of my life. My two grown up children live away from home, however, I see them as often as possible and love spending time with my amazing little grandson. My little cat keeps me company while writing and often sits on my lap (or the keyboard).

Book preview

About the book

This is the book I always wanted to write but never dared to. It is a pure work of fiction, featuring what I love most: Bad Ass Bikes and the Sexy Men that ride them!

All people, places, institutions, and businesses are a work of my imagination, and similarities to real life are unintentional.

TRIGGER WARNING

This book includes scenes of physical violence, abuse, explicit sexual nature, and strong, explicit language. It is not suitable for people under the age of 18 or people with triggers relating to any of the above.

Acknowledgments and Thanks

Thank you to Tammy Carney for her endless patience and encouragement. To my editor Nicola, I would not have been able to do this without you.

I would like to thank my family and friends. Thank you to Nicky, Pete, Caroline, and Lola Wright for your encouragement.

If you would like to get in touch with comments, suggestions or just to chat

Email or find me on my Facebook page, or readers’ group. I’ll try to answer every message.

[e-mail]

Dedication

This book is dedicated to Caroline and Pete.

You are the best friends anyone could ever wish for.

Also to my amazing daughter.

Love and miss you always

xxx

Character List Stormy Souls MC

Road Name   Rank   Name     Old Lady

Raven   President  James Saunders (Jamie)  Chloe

Rusty   Vice President  William Greenwood (Bill)  sister Ellie

Slender  Sergeant at Arms David Brewer (Dave)

Pennywise  Enforcer  Noah Nixom

Spen   Treasurer  Spencer Dalington   Debs

Dawg   Secretary  Pete Cooker    Caroline

Clusseaud  Road Captain / event planner  Robert/Bobby Buck   Theresa/Terrie

Ferret   I.T. Guy   Zack Owens 

Vegas   Member / VP later Vincent Albright (Vince)  Ashley

Moggy   Member  Craig Parkers   

Sparks   Member  Jason White   Ally/ Rainbow

Ratchet  Member  Ryder Gleeson

Zippy   Member  Caden Giles

Dougal   Member  Simon Baker    Sarah

Halfpint  Member  Dave Green 

Striker   Member  Eli Waters

Greg   Prospect  Greg Brown

Caleb   Prospect  Caleb Hayes

Mom   Club mother, mother to Pennywise,   Helen Nixom

Others

Karen   Barmaid / Manager

Neil   Bar Manager

Fury   President Restless Slayers MC   daughter Meghan

Ghoul   Vice President Restless Slayers MC

Masher   Sergeant at Arms Restless Slayers MC  daughter Tanya

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Former

Flakey   Member  Carl Staunton   RIP in book 1

Table of Contents

About the book

Acknowledgments and Thanks

Dedication

Character List Stormy Souls MC

1 — Chloe

2 — Raven

3 — Chloe

4 — Raven

5 — Chloe

6 — Raven

7 — Chloe

8 — Raven

9 — Chloe

10 — Raven

11 — Chloe

12 — Raven

13 — Chloe

14 — Raven

15 — Chloe

16 — Raven

17 — Chloe

18 — Raven

19 — Chloe

20 — Raven

21 — Chloe

22 — Raven

23 — Chloe

24 — Raven

25 — Chloe

26 — Raven

27 — Chloe

28 — Raven

29 — Chloe

30 — Raven

Epilogue

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Payton Hunter © 2023

1 — Chloe

I’m sitting on my bed, head in hands as devastation rolls over me, paying the price for breaking my rules. Despite knowing better, I allowed myself to get close to Carl Staunton, a patient, and member of the Stormy Souls MC. Regardless of being two very different personalities, we developed a friendship.

His death left a gaping hole inside me. Every time I close my eyes, I see his face. Sometimes he smiles, sometimes he grimaces in pain, and sometimes he sulks, but he’s always here with me. You can glean a surprising amount about someone in just a couple of hours, if you pay attention.

While it’s heartbreaking to witness a once robust MC member, adored by those close to him, deteriorate and vanish from your existence. Even more frustrating is the fact that I’d been too busy to sit with him when his time came. Too busy to hold his hand, too busy to offer comfort.

These twelve-hour shifts are exhausting, often turning into fifteen hours, without breaks, the ability to have a drink, or use the toilet. The constant noise of call bells going puts us under enormous stress, especially since the pandemic. We’ve had almost two years of working flat out, leaving no time to get to know someone, nor build a therapeutic relationship. I’ve watched more people die than I ever imagined in my wildest nightmares. Memories of the days of portable morgues—cooling trucks—outside in the parking lot because our own morgue was full.

No textbook in the world can prepare you for the anxiety, pressure, stress, exhaustion, and burnout we experienced, and continue to experience.

I’m genuinely considering leaving my profession and stacking shelves at Walmart instead.

Some days are not so bad; days when I’m able to talk and listen to my patients and take care of their basic human needs. Other days, however, when I am running from one bed to the next, I feel like a dispensing machine.

Add to that the constant verbal, and sometimes physical, abuse from patients and visitors, it’s enough to make any sane professional run a country mile. No wonder so many doctors and nurses suffer breakdowns or prefer to numb themselves with alcohol and other substances. The textbooks ought to come with a warning label.

You hear about interns working ridiculous hours, meeting unachievable expectations, but you never consider that it’ll be very similar when you finally qualify. Nurses are expected to know everything about everything. Why? Which idiot came up with that idea?

My neighbors regularly knock on my door to have me look at their ingrown toenail, check their baby’s temperature, look over a half-amputated finger, or give my best diagnosis because they have chest pain.

What am I supposed to do? I’m a nurse, not a freaking doctor for fuck’s sake.

Slapping myself to stop the hysterical rant going off in my head, I focus on the here and now, Carl—Flakey—Staunton’s funeral, which is being held at the club’s cemetery.

Since Carl’s admission, a sort of friendship with Ashley Saunders, one of Carl’s many non-blood family members, developed. We’d often sit and talk, sometimes over a coffee at the hospital. It’s one of the things I’ll miss.

Her brother, Raven... well now, there’s a man and a half. Tall, dark, broad-chested, powerful tattooed arms with bulging biceps. God, I’d love to see what’s under his T-shirt! Never mind what he’s packing in his jeans! His hair is jet black, long, and wavy.  In a male strip show, he could pass as a Jason Momoa impersonator! He’d rake in a fortune. He’s that fucking hot.

My brows raise at my fangirling. Though the man is way out of my league.

I took fourteen vacation days, in desperate need of a break; sadly, today, they start with Carl’s funeral.

I was supposed to run a bone marrow drive stall this weekend, but with Carl gone, it undoubtedly won’t happen.

Instead, I’ll dust off the camping gear, throw it in the back of my car and find a remote spot to camp around Lake Major for a few days, just to get away and breathe.

Checking the time, I realize I’ve managed to waste two hours pondering the injustices of life before hurrying into the shower. Once dry, I rummage through my closet with no idea what to wear to a biker funeral.

Since it’s being held at the club’s own cemetery, I’m certain it won’t be the same as an ordinary funeral. At the beginning of May, it’s still cool outside, so a long-sleeved black fitted shirt, black pencil skirt, and knee-high, soft, black suede platform boots seem like an appropriate choice. On my way out, I snatch my padded coat and purse, almost tripping rushing to my car.

When Raven messaged, he gave me coordinates for a joining point. There’ll be a bike and car procession, following the hearse, taking Carl on his last ride before laying him to rest. A biker funeral is something I’ve heard about, but never experienced, fueling my curiosity.

At the meeting point, marshals wearing high viz coats direct cars and bikes into different sections, organizing them ready for the set off. The hearse goes first, then bikes followed by the cars. Marshals will halt traffic to allow everyone to join. We receive simple enough instructions about what to do at the next joining points. It’s cool but not freezing and the sun is trying to peek out as I sync my phone to the radio, starting my playlist. The opening chords of Pearl Jam’s Breathe begins and my eyes sting as I reflect on my short time with Carl, letting the words sink in.

Then I hear it.

A muted rumble, getting louder, turning into a wall of noise as around fifty motorcycles ride past the parking lot, with the hearse in front. The noise is phenomenal, and I can feel the vibrations even sitting in the car!

A spectacular, gleaming black Harley Davidson hearse with a sidecar pulls up, in which rests a plain coffin and some simple flower arrangements. I smile, despite the tears momentarily clouding my vision.

He’d have loved that.

Paying attention to the marshals, I join the procession as the first car behind the bikes, getting the full effect of the roar of revving engines. Slowly, we move towards the second joining point at the other end of town. The marshals slow down the motorcade, bringing us to a rolling stop. More bikes join in front of me, and more cars behind. My side view mirror shows at least twenty cars, flying black ribbons on their antennas. Ahead, the column of bikes, riding in pairs, seems endless, making the hearse no longer visible to me. The amount of support the biker community is giving Carl renders me speechless.

Lots of Harleys and other custom bikes, as well as sporty ones and even old classics joined to pay their respects. Bikers from all walks of life, united in grief for one of their own. My throat tightens, and my heart swells, moving me to the core.

Being an only child of a very straitlaced, strict mother, who worked hard to keep me on the righteous path, I grew up going to church every Sunday. A straight A student, never doing anything wild or reckless. The model child to a model mother who loves me and gave me a fantastic, secure childhood.

I never met my father. My mother told me he left before she found out she was pregnant and doesn’t know where he is. The only thing she could tell me was his name, Bobby, and that she hadn’t heard from him in thirty-seven years.

I never missed not having a father. My mother was easily both mom and dad; we made it on our own. His loss.

The convoy winds its way around country roads for about an hour, then turns towards the club property. We come to a stop in what seems like the middle of nowhere. I watch as all the bikers stand with both feet planted, remove their helmets, and wait. Next, I hear an engine roar and rev up. Suddenly, as if directed by a conductor, all the bikes are revving, and the bikers stand with lowered heads as a show of respect. The sight makes my throat tighter and my heart fuller. It’s an unimaginable experience, making me feel privileged to be a part of this momentous occasion, even though the reason for it sucks.

Slowly, we creep towards our final destination. After almost a mile, I spot huge iron gates, manned by marshals. The bikes turn in and follow an uphill path, while the cars are directed to an open field to park. From the bottom of the small hill, we watch as bike after bike parks single file on either side of the path, forming an honor guard.

There are so many people! Some greeting each other; some just milling around. I survey my surroundings with curiosity and notice an exceedingly pallid Ashley, visibly grappling with her composure, as Vegas earnestly tries to provide support. The woman they affectionately refer to as ‘Mom’ stands by their side.

Raven and other members of the club walk toward the hearse, lifting the casket with the utmost of care, before carrying their brother to his final resting place. The silence, as everyone follows the casket and gathers at the graveside, is deafening. The minister gives a brief sermon as Carl’s MC brothers carefully lower the casket into the ground. Once the sermon has concluded, I step forward with everyone else, white carnation in hand. With as much reverence as I can muster, I throw it onto the coffin, followed by a handful of dirt, saying my silent goodbye, unable to stop the tears from falling.

Once the crowd gradually disperses, I follow people walking down to the clubhouse. Since my invite includes the wake, I’ll stay for a drink.

A tall brunette with glasses greets me as I walk inside.

Hello, lovely lady, it’s great to see you! She smiles brightly at me. I realize I’ve seen her before, but my capacity for remembering names is zero. My confusion must show on my face as she explains. I’m Caroline. I visited Flakey and Ashley when they were both laid up in hospital. Now I remember, the crazy woman who slapped Carl’s ass! I grin at her.

Hi, Caroline, I apologize. My brain isn’t fully functioning. Of course, I remember you. My name is Chloe, as you know. I rush out my explanation.

I know, lovely. You don’t know many people here, so stick with me. I’ll introduce you around. And please, smile. We’re mourning, but we are celebrating his life. It’s what he would’ve wanted, Caroline advises me, and I nod my head in agreement. He’d have hated a morbid affair.

I follow Caroline around for a bit, with Ally tagging along. They are a hoot, same goes for Ally’s husband, Sparks. We chat away, and it feels as though we’ve known each other for years.

I love Caroline and her husband, Dawg. He’s just as crazy and funny as she is. Above all, with both couples, love radiates out. You can tell they are as close as can be and love each other fiercely.

With the playful party mood, lots of laughter, and reminiscence, time flies. Though as the night wears on I start to feel like I’m intruding, an interloper in their private grief, so I decide to make my exit. As I rise to go, Caroline pulls me back to my seat.

You can’t leave yet. Stay and watch the show later. She smirks.

What show? I can’t help but sound intrigued.

Caroline doesn’t answer, just grins wickedly, winks, and taps the side of her nose. Ally comes back with another round of drinks—nonalcoholic for me—sets them on the table while nudging Caroline, who turns around, an evil smile gracing her face, gets up, and walks towards a ruffled looking Ashley and Vegas.

She stumbles right into Ashley, and Ashley struggles to keep her upright.

Caroline returns as quickly as she left, exchanging a conspiratorial smile with Ally.

Did she just stick her hand in Ashley’s cut pocket? What the ever-loving hell?

I don’t get to ask because I’m too distracted by Raven jumping on top of the bar. After greeting and thanking everyone for coming, he makes a brief speech. Glasses raise everywhere, and To Flakey! reverberates around the room.

What follows next has everyone hooting, hollering, and catcalling. Raven hands over to Vegas, who goes onto one knee in front of Ashley and proposes in the sweetest way. Of course, she says yes. And I’m the one whooping loudest.

Payton Hunter © 2023

2 — Raven

The last few weeks have been tough, probably the toughest of my life.

My private and work life turned into a constant roller coaster, and I don’t know whether I’m coming or going. I took some serious blows when I discovered my VP bad-mouthing me, interfering in business, and threatening my sister. Furious, I’d like to kill him with my own bare hands, but everything was put on the back burner when Flakey ended up in hospital, and consequently died.

I ordered Rusty not to come back for the funeral. I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself from beating the fucker to a pulp.

Flakey’s death decimated us. He was a long-time brother and one of the best people you’d ever meet. We’re reeling from his sudden death.

To top everything off, Vegas proposed to my sister, and tomorrow we must attend the Restless Slayer MC rally.  We’re going because they’re our dominant club, meaning we are affiliated with them. We maintain a great relationship, and I’ve known Fury, their Prez, Ghoul, his VP, and Masher, their Sergeant at Arms for years.

It’s therefore nothing personal, but we could all do without having to travel for hours. Fuck, we should be trying to gather our thoughts and deal with our grief.

Fury appears next to me, claps me hard on the shoulder, and says, It never gets easier, brother, does it?

I look at him and nod. I’ve seen lots of death in my time, inflicted it, watched it come for us, and it’s wearing on me now. Despite us running the club legit, there’s no letup.

Leaving Fury at the bar, I make my way through the room to the outside, and as I pass the old ladies’ table, I clock Chloe, wiping her eyes. Such a sweet, loving chick, and so out of place amongst us jaded bikers. Her capacity for empathy is something else.

What I first noticed about her was her shining hazel eyes, her long, blonde hair, streaked with a red shimmer, and her beautiful face. I make a note to myself to speak to her before she leaves. I hold little hope, but maybe she’ll agree to still help with the donor drive, and man the stall already set up for us at the Slayer’s rally. Nodding at the girls, I walk past and outside, desperate for time to think and a deep long breath of fresh evening air to clear my pounding head. I find myself a picnic table to sit on and light up. I know smoking kills you, but hell, the devil will get you one way or the other, and it calms my nerves.

My peace doesn’t last long. I groan, watching Slender and Pennywise walking over with intent.

No rest for the wicked, Prez, Slender starts. We need to talk. He is my SAA, and I respect him for his dedication.

What’s on your mind? I ask Slender. He looks at Pennywise and unspoken communication passes between them.

Rusty. He can’t keep getting away with this. I’ve spoken to Ferret, who followed up on the banking inconsistencies, and guess who banked the money? Rusty did. Just like Karen said. Ferret hacked into the ATM camera, and you can clearly see Rusty walking into the bank around the time of the deposits. Slender takes a deep breath.

Pennywise, our Enforcer, who works closely with Slender, picks up the slack.

Not all club members are aware of Rusty threatening Ashley, but they know what he’s like with women. They witnessed the Saragate at the party and a lot of them are champing at the bit to get a punch in, Prez. We need to make a plan, otherwise, this thing will blow up real fast, sending us up shit creek without a paddle, he explains.

I hear them, I’m listening, but the blood pounding in my ears and the raw fury running through my veins drowns out their voices.

He... is... mine! I growl at them. He’ll pay for this, all of it. I’ll kill the rat bastard myself! My anger is boundless and a bit of the old Raven—the violent man who shoots first and doesn’t bother asking questions—comes to the fore.

Prez, you need to keep a handle on this. You know it’s gotta go through the table. We can ask for him to be out bad, Slender tries to placate me.

I fucking hate this! I hiss at them. I want him dead, not out bad! 

What’s the plan, boss? Pennywise’s question seeps through my rage. Taking a deep breath, exhaling slowly, trying to control my fury, I stare at my boots. When I raise my head to look them in the eyes, an icy calm settles over me.

We don’t take this shit to the Slayer’s rally. I know he’ll be there, but we do... not... make it general knowledge. We cannot afford to lose face like that, and sure as shit, not in public, I grate at them and both nod in agreement.

Here’s the plan, I decree. We keep a close eye on him at the rally. No one’s to let on anything is wrong. Once we get home, we go straight to church, where first he’ll be stripped of his tape. That fat fuck is no longer VP. For now, he only wears the tape for organizational reasons. The bad-mouthing and Sarah incident serves as reason for this decision. We collect all our evidence, then there’ll be an open meeting, presenting the facts. Then, we’ll vote. He’ll go in the bunker after, and I’ll leave the removal of his tattoos up to you boys. If I get involved, he’ll be dead, not out bad.

Both Slender and Pennywise nod.

I’ll get Ferret to gather the evidence we have, plus the statements from the club girls and old ladies, Slender states, crossing his arms over his chest. I nod and both of them leave, my head a hurricane of emotions and none of them positive ones.

Rusty’s been my VP since I took over, and my father’s VP for years before that.

I trusted him with my life, so have the brothers. It’s a struggle to believe that he’d be so devious, not to mention heinous where my family is concerned. He was my father’s best friend, yet he fucked my stepmother, and after being discovered, threatened my sister with the vilest repercussions if she talked.

She kept his secret for sixteen years and me in the dark, hence I continued to put my trust in him, considering his contributions and regularly seeking his advice. The depth of betrayal I feel is bottomless. If I was my father, or even the old Raven, I would wrap Rusty in chicken wire and throw him in the deepest lake to rot in the bottom so he’d no longer pollute the air everyone breathes. But I worked too hard to turn this club around and am unwilling to risk it all for that shithead. His time is running out, and his punishment will be severe.

Enjoying the cool night air for a moment longer, I light up another cigarette and let the momentary quiet soothe me. Chloe walks out of the clubhouse ready to leave, accompanied by Ally. They’re walking towards me, heading for the parking lot a few yards behind me in the open field, failing to notice me, deep in talk.

Hey, you two, wait up! I call over to them, moving my ass off the table. Ally looks around and grins as she spots me.

Raven, to what do we owe the honor? Her curious and intelligent eyes weighing me up.

I wanted to have a quick chat with Chloe, if that is okay with your majesty? I bow and wink at Ally, who bursts out laughing.

What can I do for you, Raven? Chloe answers, shooting me a curious look.

Remember we discussed the bone marrow donor drive and the stand at the rally? We’re still doing that in Flakey’s honor. The Restless Slayers have everything set up. Apologies for it being such short notice, I understand if you’ve made other plans. But if you’re free, would you still be able to help? I hope my question isn’t too forward. She’s done a lot for us already. Her eyebrows rise in surprise.

With Carl gone, I didn’t think the club would want to take part. I really admire you for wanting to continue with this! she exclaims. Sure, I can do that. Just give me the details. When would I have to be there? Chloe smiles as she asks.

Could you manage tomorrow afternoon? Ally has all the details. Do you own a tent? Or do we need to book you a motel room somewhere close? I need to know what arrangements to make.

Oh no, it’s fine. I’ve got my camping gear, so a motel room is unnecessary. The brochures and all different types of information materials, banners, etc. are in the back of my car already. Got stuff last week, before things with Carl happened, in preparation. I’m ready to go, she tells me, then turns to Ally to ask, Could you text me the details? Or even better, could I follow you and your ladies to the site?

Ally responds instantly, Sure you can. Meet me and the girls tomorrow at lunchtime here in the parking lot. You either can follow us in your car, or you can ride with one of us. I’m sure Raven won’t mind if your gear goes with the support vehicle. You can set up your tent with us. Her enthusiasm that her new mate will join us is obvious.

Chloe’s grin is blinding and makes me realize just how stunning she is.

Really? I could ride with you? Oh my God, that’d be fantastic! I’ll gladly accept a ride with you. If it’s okay with Raven to take my stuff, that is? Her eyes glint with excitement as she looks at me.

Sure, no problem. Just make sure you are early, so we can throw your stuff in the support vehicle without Clusseaud having a coronary. I smirk.

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