Page 1 of Riding Dirty

PROLOGUE

WRATH

TWENTY-SIX YEARS AGO

Fire. The dancing amber light. I’ve always loved it. Dare walks up beside me, and I feel his fingers curl around my shoulder. He shakes me gently. He’s only six years older than me, but in this world, our world, six years can feel like a lifetime. Especially with all the shit we experience.

“I’m glad to have you in the family, Wrath.”

My road name. Wrath. It was given to me by Dare’s father, my president. I don’t like to talk about how or why he gave me that name, but it’s the name he gave me, and I wear it like a badge with fucking pride, even though I won’t talk about it.

“Me too.”

“You look like you could use a good fuck and a beer.”

He’s not wrong. I could use both, though I already know that after it’s done, I’ll feel empty. I always do. I thought things would change after I was patched in, but they didn’t. It’s something inside me that’s broken. But I’m not sure I’ll ever try to figure it out; that would necessitate me going back to that place—to the past.

Which is a no fucking thanks… ever.

Tearing my gaze from the fire, I look over to him before I respond. “That sounds fucking amazing.”

We leave together, though I could stay here and watch the fire for hours. He turns and walks away. I follow behind him, and we continue until we reach our bikes. Dare doesn’t climb on, though.

He stops and turns his head, looking at me before he speaks, his lips twitching into a smirk. “Heard there’s a party tonight.”

“Isn’t there always a party?” I ask.

He snorts, shrugging a shoulder. “Yeah. So let’s get the fuck out of here and get laid.”

That’s exactly my sentiment. The air was starting to feel a bit heavy, and I’m ready to forget anything that may have attempted to seep into the front of my memory banks, because fuck that shit completely.

As soon as we pull up to the clubhouse, I know something is going down the moment I kill my engine. Then I see it. She’s there, standing a few feet from the front door, a cigarette between her fingers.

She was pretty once. Beautiful even. But she’s not anymore. The drugs, the lifestyle, it’s twisted her face, ratted her hair, and left her body completely emaciated. She was once my protector in a world that was cruel as fuck to me.

“Fuck,” Dare hisses beside me.

He knows her, too, but that’s because they used to date. She was once his old lady. Until she stole all his money, his muscle car, and took off with some other guy. They found the car, stripped of anything that had monetary value and left on the side of the road. Dare restored it, of course, because it was a badass ride.

“Kaitlin,” I growl as I make my way toward her. She stops pacing, brings the cigarette to her lips before she takes a final drag, then flicks it onto the ground.

She gives me a smile. Again, she was once beautiful, but isn’t now. It makes me sad seeing her. Twenty-six years old, and she’s barely alive, constantly chasing a high and nothing else. As much as I want to believe she could get clean and live a decent life, I don’t have high hopes.

“Hey, Coast, I need some money, just a little to get me by.”

Shaking my head, I lift my hand, running my fingers through my hair before I tug on the ends, my gaze flicking down to my shoes. I think about what to say to her. I haven’t given her a dime since she did what she did to Dare.

She put me in a really bad fucking spot and didn’t give a fuck about what could have happened to me.

“I don’t have anything to give you,” I say.

It’s not a lie.

None of my money is going to go toward killing her. She can do whatever the fuck she wants, but it’s not going to be on my dime, not anymore. She doesn’t give a fuck about what happens to anyone. Not as long as she can get high.

“Don’t you love me?” she whispers as she takes another step toward me.

I can feel Dare standing near me but can’t look away from my sister. Her skin is marked with red sores, and her teeth are beginning to rot from the meth. It makes my heart ache. No. It fucking squeezes in pain.