Rainbow (RUTHLESS KINGS MC™ BATON ROUGE CHAPTER (A RUTHLESS UNDERWORLD NOVEL) Book 1) Read online

  RUTHLESS KINGS MC™ BATON ROUGE

  COPYRIGHT © 2021 RAINBOW BY KL SAVAGE

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted by U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior permission of the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, establishments, or organizations, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously to give a sense of authenticity. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. RAINBOW is intended for 18+ older, and for mature audiences only.

  ISBN: 978-1-952500-54-1

  COVER DESIGN BY: LORI JACKSON DESIGN

  PHOTOGRAPHY BY: WANDER AGUIAR

  COVER MODEL: NICK VANMATRE

  EDITING BY: INFINITE WELL

  FORMATTING BY: CHAMPAGNE BOOK DESIGN

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Playlist

  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

  Epilogue

  Also by K.L. Savage

  To anyone struggling with their sexuality. We want you to know, to us, in our world, and in the Ruthless Universe, you’re accepted here, and we can be your safe place. If you aren’t aware of The Trevor Project, it’s an organization dedicated to helping the beautiful people of the LGBTQIA+ community. They provide support with one-on-one chat, text, and email with any information you might need or local resources wherever in the United States.

  Call The TrevorLifeline at: 1-866-488-7386

  Text The TrevorText: Text START to 678-678

  Chat with Trevorchat: Available on their website:

  https://www.thetrevorproject.org/get-help-now/

  Go to Trevorspace: A networking site for Lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer, and questioning youths under 25 and their friends. Available on their website:

  https://www.trevorspace.org/?utm_source=trevor_website&utm_medium=web&utm_campaign=homepage_tabs

  They also have an amazing support center:

  https://www.thetrevorproject.org/resources/trevor-support-center/

  LOVE IS LOVE.

  DANCING ON MY OWN BY CALUM SCOTT

  TALKING BODY BY FIVE HUNDREDTH YEAR

  BORN THIS WAY BY LADY GAGA

  CHASING AFTER YOU BY RYAN HURD, MAREN MORRIS

  VILLAIN BY LILY ROSE

  FIRE ON FIRE BY SAM SMITH

  FEEL THAT FIRE BY DIERKS BENTLEY

  NO SMOKE WITHOUT A FIRE BY BAD COMPANY

  THIS HOUSE IS ON FIRE BY AC/DC

  ORIGINAL FIRE BY AUDIOSLAVE

  Seventeen years old

  The car door slams shut, and Dad throws his hands on his hips as he stares at his pride and joy—the new Range Rover. It’s loaded to the brim. The bicycles are mounted on the back, and the kayaks are strapped to the roof.

  “That’s a thing of a beauty,” he announces proudly. He kind of reminds me of a superhero preparing to launch into the air.

  I close the tailgate of my truck where the extra camping supplies are and chuckle. “Dad, it’s an SUV, not a shrine.”

  “It’s kind of a shrine. A camping shrine. I knew this SUV was a good idea.”

  My mom walks around him carrying a jug of water. She places it in the back of the truck, then turns around and pats my dad on the shoulder. “Tell that to our bank account every month when we have to pay for this thing.”

  “Hey, safety and luxury aren’t cheap. You guys need to see the bigger picture.” He holds up his hands and makes an L shape with each one, framing the car in his line of sight as he closes one eye. “Better SUV. Better opportunities.”

  “You’re a damn nut,” Mom laughs right before giving him a kiss. “But it’s why I love you.”

  That’s the one thing about my parents: they still love each other after twenty years of being together—a sickening amount.

  I hope to have that kind of love one day.

  “Get a room.” I keep a smile on my face, so they know I’m kidding. I lean my elbows against the edge of the tailgate and call out for my little brother. “Greer! Come on, we have to get going.” He comes running out of the house with a football in his hands.

  He always has that damn pigskin. Fifteen years old, and he’s already the varsity quarterback for the high school. He lives and breathes that game. Honestly, I’m jealous. I wish I was passionate about something like Greer is. Unfortunately, I never could get into anything or stick with any sport. Even in my studies, I’m average. I just haven’t found anything to be driven or motivated about. When I go to college, I hope that changes, but I’m kind of skating by in life until then.

  “Okay, okay. I’m here. Sorry. You know I can’t go anywhere without this thing.” He tosses it in the air in a spiral above his head right before it falls straight into his hands. “I want to work on my long-range with you, Nathan. I need to throw ten more yards.”

  “Dude, you’re fifteen. The reason why you can’t throw it another ten yards is ‘cause you haven’t hit puberty—”

  “Okay, that’s enough, boys,” my dad interrupts, pointing to the truck. “We need to get going before we lose daylight.”

  My eyes drift off to the sky, where thick clouds of smoke are beginning to block the sun. “Dad, you’re sure it’s safe to go camping, right? The wildfire is growing and—”

  He silences me by slapping his hands on my shoulders. “Hey, I wouldn’t put our family in harm’s way. The fire is a hundred miles in the opposite direction, and the winds are in our favor. They don’t expect it to change direction at this point. So nothing is stopping us from our annual family trip. Okay?”

  “Yeah, I know. I guess I’m just worried.” I dig in my pockets for the truck keys and swallow. I’m getting a bad feeling about this trip. I don’t know if I’m worried for no reason, but something tells me that we shouldn’t go.

  Dad knows best, right?

  “Let’s go. We have a four-hour drive ahead of us.” He squeezes my biceps before letting me go, then heads to the passenger side of the SUV to open the door for Mom.

  I let out a deep exhale and get into the driver’s seat. Greer climbs in the truck next, and we buckle up at the same time. The restored 1965 Ford F-100 grumbles to life. God, I love the sound of this engine. I guess that’s one thing I get excited about: this beauty. Dad and I worked on this project together when I was fourteen. It took a whole summer, but we souped up the engine, replaced most of the panels, reupholstered the interior, re-chromed the grill, and gave it a sick new paint job. When he got it for me, it was a rust
bucket from a junkyard. I doubt he spent more than a couple hundred bucks on it.

  And now it’s priceless.

  “What’s wrong? You’re quiet,” Greer observes, reaching for the radio and turning the knob to turn up the music. It’s on a classic rock station—as always. No one changes it.

  Ever.

  It’s my one rule about getting into this truck.

  “Nothing’s wrong. What makes you say that?” I follow Dad out of the driveway and take a right, waving at Mr. Greene, who is currently watering his garden in his red robe. He scowls at me like he does every time I wave.

  Eventually, I’ll get the man to not sneer when he sees me.

  “Nathan.”

  I turn onto the highway, following the neon green and yellow bikes attached to the new Range Rover Dad keeps going on about. “What?” I snap. My eyes are more concentrated on the glowing clouds in the sky. They’re gray, but with the sun behind them, hints of red and orange are shining through.

  “What’s going on with you?” Greer turns his baseball cap around and spins the football in his hands.

  “Nothing. It’s just the sky. It’s crazy, right? That smoke is traveling far.”

  “Yeah, but Dad said for us not to worry. He checked into it. Everything is fine.”

  “I know that. Hey, why don’t you lean back and rest? You must still be tired after kicking East High’s ass last night. I’ll wake you if we stop.”

  “Four touchdowns,” he grins in response. “You sure? You know I’m a good passenger. I like to help when you drive.”

  “I know, but I can handle it. Get some rest. It looks like you haven’t slept in days with those bags under your eyes.” I reach around the driver’s seat and grab the pillow I stuffed behind it. “Here.” I toss it to him. “Blanket is behind you.”

  “Thanks,” he yawns. “Yeah, I’m going to take you up on that.” He snags the blanket from the backseat and covers himself with the blue plaid throw Mom made a few years back.

  I try to give him a comforting smile, but even I can feel the tightness in my lips. I want to turn around and go home.

  “You worry too much,” he grumbles before leaning his head against the window and shutting his eyes.

  I do worry too much. I worry about everything when it comes to my family. I don’t have a bad relationship with my parents. I don’t hate my brother, and I have the picture-perfect life every kid could want. My brother and I are as thick as thieves, and my best friends are my mom and dad. It isn’t typical, but when I feel like something could threaten my family, no matter how small that ‘thing’ is, I worry. I stress. It’s my job to protect everyone.

  Mom and Dad are too laid back and chill about everything in life. They’re still stuck in a hippie phase of their life. Practically every night, they smoke pot under the stars and laugh about anything and everything. My middle name is Rainbow, for fuck’s sake, because Mom said the first time she met Dad was at a peace rally underneath a rainbow banner.

  I mean… what the fuck? I can’t tell anyone that. I’d never hear the end of it.

  They’re too caught up in la-la land to see the real world like I do. My brother is too young to understand, and he’s caught up in himself and football—which he should be.

  I’m the responsible one. It’s up to me to think clearly for everyone, and taking this trip is a bad idea. My gut is twisting.

  I look over at Greer and see him fast asleep. My heart kicks my chest at the thought of something happening to him. He’s too young to experience anything life-altering, and my instincts tell me this fire is going to be that something.

  I don’t know how or why, but I feel it.

  “I’m so fucking paranoid,” I mumble to myself but turn the station for the first time in a year until I find a news broadcasting channel. If I hear we’re out of harm’s way from the experts, I’ll feel better.

  We head east into Yosemite National Park. The further we go, the lighter the smoke gets since the fire is in central California. Finally, my hands lose their tight grip on the wheel, and I start to relax. Maybe it’s all in my head. I need to chill out, like Greer said.

  “The wildfire fifty miles from San Francisco is only five percent contained. Firefighters are working around the clock, and they’re even calling for reinforcements from nearby states. I hate to say it, but this might be the deadliest fire we’ve seen. People in Northern California are still in the clear but might have some clarity issues with the smoke filling the sky. If anything changes, we promise to keep you—”

  I flip the radio to the classic rock station and do my best to put the fire out of my mind. Wildfires can’t move that fast, right?

  We stop an hour and a half later at some mom-and-pop gas station, like we always do, for drinks and to top off the gas in the cars.

  “Is your radio working?” Dad asks as he screws the gas cap off the Range Rover.

  Huh. I didn’t even notice the music had been replaced with static. I turn the volume knob, and the white noise jolts Greer awake. He bangs his head on the window, and I snicker.

  “Ow.” He rubs the spot on his head. “I thought you said you were going to wake me.”

  “I did,” I chuckle, then duck my head out of the car to talk to Dad. “No, nothing.”

  “Ah, no big deal. It’s probably smoke interfering.” Dad waves away the concern as the gas begins to flow through the nozzle into the tank.

  “Yeah, probably.” I try to sound as if I’m not nervous. I’m shaking it off.

  I stare off into the sky, which is darker now. The clouds are thick and black again, and I swear the orange hue no longer belongs to the sun but to the intensity of flames.

  “Dad, we should turn around and go home. I mean, it’s camping, right? So it isn’t a big deal.”

  “Son, we’re going to be fine. It looks scary, and it is, but the fire isn’t near us. I promise.” He jiggles the handle of the pump nozzle before hanging it back in its spot on the machine. “It’s the last time we’ll do this before you graduate high school, Nathan. It’s important.”

  Now I know why he’s so insistent.

  I lower my voice to a whisper so Greer can’t hear me. “I’d rather us be safe, Dad. Something doesn’t feel right.”

  He cups the back of my head and gives me a sad, sappy smile. “Always the protector. I’m so proud of you, but this weekend, I’m the one who’s protecting you. I’ve done my homework on this fire. We’ll be okay.”

  “Come on. I want to roast some s’mores and tell ghost stories!” Mom shouts out the window and turns on a flashlight under her face, so it gives her an ashen appearance. “Boo!”

  Dad gasps and slams his hand against his chest. “Gosh, honey. You scared the life out of me.”

  She giggles, knowing he wasn’t scared at all.

  Can’t they be serious for two seconds? Not everything is a fucking fairy tale. We don’t live in la-la land. I slam my fist against the hood of the truck before walking around.

  “Nathan—”

  “—It’s fine, Dad. I’ll follow. Let’s go.” I shut the driver’s side door harder than necessary and turn the key. The exhaust sputters and purrs as I wait for Dad to pull out of the gas station parking lot. But, of course, being a worrywart means no one believes me when I’m worried about something because I worry about everything.

  “Dad is right—”

  “Greer. Shut up. Dad isn’t always right about everything. He’s careless right now. With this smoke, we shouldn’t even be out, but what the hell do I know?” I grab the gear shift and jerk it into drive. The tires crunch over the gravel and since the road is empty, we don’t have to wait to turn onto it.

  “I just think you’re reading too much into it.”

  “I hope for all of our sakes that you’re right.” I rub my left hand over my mouth and follow my dad. Greer and I fall into a tense, awkward silence. I don’t blame him for being mad at me. These trips we go on are special, and I’m being the buzzkill that’s ruining it
.

  The forest becomes thicker the further east we drive, but so does the smoke. It’s almost impossible to see. Surely breathing this stuff isn’t a good thing. The only thing on the SUV I can see is the red glow of taillights. Dad must be braking to slow down.

  “Is that snow?” Greer peeks out the window to watch the stuff fall.

  “Can’t be. It’s too hot.” It builds on the windshield, so I turn on the wipers, but that only causes it to smear, making it impossible to see. I clear it off with the windshield wiper fluid. “It isn’t snow. It’s ash,” I realize, swallowing the lump in my throat.

  “That’s not good, right? That’s bad? That has to be really bad.”

  “It isn’t great, Greer.” I tighten my hands on the wheel and continue to follow Dad.

  Greer tries the radio again, but static is the only thing that comes through, along with a few jumbled words I can’t quite make out.

  “Damn, it’s hot,” Greer mutters, taking off his baseball cap and running his fingers through his thick hair. He wipes his forehead with his arm, and I double-check to make sure it’s the air conditioning that’s on, not the heat.

  The air is on full blast.

  And it’s getting hotter.

  “We have to turn around,” I whisper in fear. My voice shaking from the truth.

  That’s the bitch about the truth, isn’t it? Sometimes it’s so strong and makes you terrified that it leaves your voice weak and trembling. But no matter how unstable it makes you, the truth should be shouted.

  Even if it’s just above a whisper.

  I honk the horn just as a large gust of wind howls, rocking the truck from side to side.

  “Nathan?” Greer grips the side of the door and his knuckles turn white. His eyes are round with fear as he looks around. “I can’t see anything. What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know.” The wind takes the opportunity to howl again, like a wolf echoing in the darkness. The sound sends a sliver of terror down my spine.