Force (The Disciples Book 5), page 1
Copyright © 2022
Force by Cassandra Robbins
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or scanned in any manner without written permission of the author, except in the need of quotes for reviews only.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, and establishments are the product of the author’s imagination or are used to provide authenticity and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Edited: Nikki Busch Editing
Cover Design: Lori Jackson Design
Formatting and proofing: Elaine York, Allusion Publishing
Cover Photo: Michelle Lancaster
Cover Model: Jay Lam
Playlist
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
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Epilogue
Extended Epilogue
Want More?
Other Books by Cassandra Robbins
Connect
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Listen to the playlist while reading Force by clicking here or visiting https://tinyurl.com/54z6bs5k.
ABCDEFU – Glass Tides
I Don’t Know What Else You Want From Me – Willyecho
If the World Was Ending (feat. Julia Michaels) – JP Saxe, Julia Michaels
Smokin’ – Boston
Young & Sad – Noah Cyrus
Cover Me – Bruce Springsteen
bad for you – George Barnett
Crazy Train – Ozzy Osbourne
I am not a woman, I’m a god – Halsey
Sour Diesel – ZAYN
Numb – Carlie Hanson
Vertigo – Alice Merton
Do I Wanna Know? – Arctic Monkeys
Wildfire – Cautious Clay
Bad Intentions – Bel Heir
Can’t Stop – Red Hot Chili Peppers
In The Woods Somewhere – Hozier
Play with Fire (feat. Yacht Money) – Sam Tinnesz, Yacht Money
The Next Curse – Slothrust, Lzzy Hale
I Wanna Be Your Slave – Måneskin
Black Roller Coming – Philip Sayce
Can’t Help Falling in Love – Jena Irene
RYDER
Present day
Studio City, CA
“Christ.” Sitting up, I scrub my hands up and down my face and toss the sheet off me. I must have drifted, which should make me happy. My insomnia is bad, so any sort of sleep is good. My gaze drifts to the sleeping woman next to me. This is the one place I shouldn’t be. I drop my hands and look for my bottle of Jack, ignoring the pounding in my temples, even though it feels like someone took a baseball bat to my head.
Fucking timing. Good or bad, it’s everything. Last night I was drunk enough, with one shot too many to do the right thing, and failed to ignore her incessant texts.
Standing, I crack my neck and make my way to her table to retrieve my half-empty bottle. It’s suffocating being surrounded by all of Cindy’s crap. The stuff’s not practical, at least not for me. I’m like a bull in a china shop.
“Jesus,” I growl, battling a giant white orchid to reach for my bottle. The fucking thing has branches and blooms sprouting in all directions. She’s gonna bitch that I broke it, but what the hell?
Unscrewing the lid, I take a deep swig. Her delicate glass bowl of potpourri makes me feel like I’m dead, lying in my coffin. The dried spicy flowers are so pungent and sweet, it’s stifling. I can’t get a good breath in. Add in the smell of sex, and my pulse is throbbing in my temples.
I shouldn’t have come here last night. I’d blame it on lack of sleep and too much booze, but it’s more than that.
Loneliness.
Stings like a bitch. My curse, my hell that I’m destined to live with night after night.
I close my eyes against the pain. The burn of whiskey barely bothers me as I finish the bottle. Her face appears before me, so beautiful and clear.
My obsession.
Doesn’t matter how much pussy and other substances I use as a substitute for her, she’s with me day and night. Owning me. My heart is bound and chained to hers.
Time to finish this with Cindy. This should be easy. I’ve never lied to her. She knew the rules from the first night. Fuck buddies. But that one night turned into two, and things got complicated fast.
And now here I am.
Cindy believes she loves me. She doesn’t. Not sure she can put her issues aside to really love anyone at this point in her life. But that’s not for me to fix, and deep inside she knows it, even if she continues to cling to this toxic relationship we’re submerged in. She’s determined to keep it alive and breathing when it should have died years ago.
“Fuck,” I hiss, kicking aside her discarded clothes and locating my jeans on the floor. Pulling my cigarettes from the pocket, I light up and move to her balcony where I close my tired eyes and inhale deeply. The warmth of the sun and the cigarette lull me into a false sense of peace until I hear her voice, as if she’s here next to me instead of a ghost choosing to haunt.
Mom.
Her tortured face swims in front of me.
She knew.
I prop my hand on the glass door, not able to stop my past from taking another piece of me this morning. My mind is a powerful beast. I should know better than to fight it.
“You killed them,” my mom shrieks at me, clutching the phone. Her black hair is pulled back in a tight bun, and her dark eyes are wild. She shakes the receiver at me.
“Cursed. Diavolo,” she wails.
I back up and shake my head, “No, please, Mamma. This is not my fault!”
“It is.” Her tear-stained face makes her appear older than her age. “You should have been in the car. You were supposed to go, but you did not… and you… you let them go.” She stares at me as if she’s only now seeing me. Her face is filled with disgust and fear. Collapsing to the floor, she weeps and rocks back and forth, her hand wrapped around the crucifix on her neck, her other still holding the phone.
“Mamma, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I walk toward her, but she screams, Italian dripping from her lips so fast I can’t keep up, but I don’t need to. I know what she’s saying.
Because she’s right. I did know, but I never said anything. They wouldn’t have believed me anyway. No one does, especially not my dad or my brother…
“Dead. They’re dead.” She drops the phone to lift her fist, chanting a prayer.
I shake my head and kneel with her to pray. Pray for why I’m cursed, why…
“You’re not my son. You’re not welcome in this house anymore. You’re a murderer. Get out, you Devil.”
Opening my eyes, I look down at my cigarette—it’s burned out. My fingers are stained yellow from too many nights of doing exactly this.
I lean over and put the cigarette butt out in her fucking orchid and stand over her. My pretty Cinderella, mistaking me for a prince. My mother was right; I’m much more the Antichrist than a savior.
Reaching for my jeans, I jerk them on and locate my discarded tee and cut under her pile of clothes.
Cindy stirs, her tan legs wrapped up in her pink sheets. Emotion fills me. I care for her, always will. But I’m not the right man for her.
Her blue eyes blink open, and she watches me cautiously. She knows—deep inside she does—even if she doesn’t want to admit it. I sit next to her and light up a new cigarette.
“I’ve got to go.”
“What time is it?” She props herself up on her elbows, the sheet sliding to her waist. Her big tits, which are always my weakness, wake my cock up.
I ignore him—he makes bad decisions.
“Early. Go back to sleep.” Leaning over, I kiss her forehead. She flops back, her eyes instantly filling with tears.
“You’re leaving, already?”
“Yeah. Shit’s going on.” I inhale, looking around to make sure I’ve got everything. A loud buzzing reminds me to get my phone. She rolls over to grab it from the other nightstand.
“Here.” Tears slide down her cheeks.
“Come on, babe. Let’s not do this again.” I reach for her. She crawls into my lap, her naked body shaking
“Cindy, you’re stronger than this,” I soothe her.
She looks up at me, her lips swollen, cheeks pale, eyes glazed. “Can you stay with me today? I need you to stay with me.” Her nails dig into my forearm.
I take a breath. She’s trying to manipulate me with those tears, and now she’s gonna turn ugly, mean, and aggressive. It’s our cycle and, frankly, exhausting. I have too much to deal with already to stay any longer.
“You know I can’t.” Removing her from my lap, I stand.
She stares up at me, her blue eyes full of pain and something else.
“What are you on?” I snap, grabbing her chin and peering at her pupils.
She jerks her chin away and backs up. “Just go, Ryder. You have no right to question anything I do.” She spits it out like there’s venom in her mouth. She’s right. I don’t, but I also don’t need a dramatic overdose on my conscience either.
“Jesus Christ, Cindy, this is getting fucking pathetic.” I walk into her bathroom. Again, my nostrils flare at that fucking potpourri that sits on her sink. I pick up the bowl and toss it into the trash basket, then swing open her medicine cabinet. Numerous bottles line the second rack.
“The fuck?” I grab a bottle. “Xanax, who’s selling these to you?”
“Get out, Ryder.” Cindy barges in. “These are mine. I have a prescription.” Her hands claw at mine and I look at her, really look at her. She’s not the girl I met years ago. Those curves I loved are gone. She’s too thin for her build, and her tits, which have always been my downfall, look like big balloons on a pole rather than on a woman.
“How long has this been going on? No doctor would prescribe this shit to you. You’re getting it on the street.” I reach for another bottle, easily pushing her hands aside.
“Percocet? Dr. Davis? Who’s giving you this?” I grab her thin arm to shake her. I can feel my pulse in my temple. I’m the fucking enforcer, and if one of our guys is selling to her…
“It’s private. All this is private.” She shuts the door to the medicine cabinet with her other hand, her breathing harsh, almost a pant, and looks up at me through the mirror.
“A fucking junkie?” Slinging her arm away, I toss the bottle in the trash can. She’ll get it, like a desperate rat fighting for a piece of food. Brushing past her stunned face, I head toward the door.
“You did this to me. This is all your fault, Ryder,” she shrieks, her voice becoming an echo, a merging of my mother’s angry, hateful words.
“Stop,” I roar, hesitating before I face her. “I’ll get you help. But this delusion you have that we’re together ends now.”
She blinks at me, the dark bags under her eyes more pronounced. “Over.” She jumps even though I didn’t yell, then shakes her head frantically.
“You…” She grabs her hair and glances around the room, her eyes wild. Bolting, she snatches her phone from the nightstand.
“You want over, I’ll give you over, you son of a bitch.” Her hands shake as she brings her phone up taking pictures of me, or maybe filming, whatever. I’m through. After pulling on my boots, I grab my keys.
“Just keep walking, Ryder. I’m sending this to your whore,” she yells.
Ignoring her, I make damn sure I have everything; I’m not coming back.
“Look at me,” she demands. “Tell her. Tell Julianna what we did last night, Ryder.” She tries to move in front of me. Tears stream down her face, but she holds the phone as if it’s a gun. Like that footage could actually bring me down.
“You tell her.” My voice is calm. “And don’t leave anything out.” I nod at her stunned face, turning to open her bedroom door.
“Ryder. Wait.” Her voice cracks, but I keep walking. “Wait. I was joking. I’m tired, that’s all.”
“Send it, Cindy,” I call over my shoulder.
“But… I love you,” she pleads.
That stops me. She can’t really think this is love, can she?
After a pause, I turn to her. “You have no idea what love is.” I let the words hang in the air as she stands, clutching her phone to her chest. “Because it sure as shit isn’t this.”
I don’t wait to hear her screams. Her threats bounce off me. I’ve heard them all before.
A dog barks as I make my way toward the parking lot, the morning sun shining her warmth on me. Straddling my bike, I take a breath and exhale. I don’t believe in chance. I do believe in Karma and destiny. I came here to cut us loose. I used the booze as an excuse, but I came here knowing it’s time.
Leaning forward, I start up my bike and twist the throttle. Exhaust fills the air. The pavement vibrates to life.
I know who I am. Nothing can bring me down.
Nothing.
JULIANNA
Past
Disciples’ clubhouse
Burbank, CA
Biting my lower lip, I try not to chicken out. I can’t. I need to pick up Gia. “What a freakin’ mess,” I mumble, rubbing my forehead as my navigation system tells me to go right, and that the destination is straight ahead.
I take a deep breath, the new-car smell aggravating me. I know people love it, but I’m nervous right now, so it’s making me feel like I can’t breathe. I’m driving my Christmas present from my dad. To say I was shocked is an understatement.
A BMW.
He bought me a freaking BMW; I almost burst into tears. It’s just so… my dad. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I hate driving cars like this. It makes me uncomfortable, like I’m a snob or something. Not to mention, I loved my Prius. But apparently that wasn’t safe enough. And what my dad says goes. No one crosses him. We all learned that at a very young age.
Glancing down at the white leather seats, I roll my eyes. This is the type of car my older brothers or sister would drive if they didn’t already have a driveway full of more expensive ones. It’s embarrassing and I hate it, but it’s not like we can choose our family.
I’m the baby of mine. Also, my dad’s only child with my mom, who happened to be his secretary and broke up his marriage of twenty-plus years with his first wife.
So yeah, my mom is twenty-six years younger than my dad. You can imagine how close I am with my siblings.
My dad doesn’t care though. I love him, but the comments he makes, the snide remarks here and there, are too much. I swear, if my mom wasn’t such a perfect trophy wife, he would easily, and I quote, “trade her in for a newer model.”
Which is disgusting and completely degrading. But it doesn’t seem to bother my mom at all. Either she doesn’t care and is staying with him for the money, or she’s been told it so many times she’s immune to it. Since my mom looks thirty, I have to think she’s in it for the money. She can’t honestly think she loves him… gross.
At seventy-two, my dad rules his massive empire along with all seven of his children as if we were put on this planet to serve him. As if none of us should actually want to have our own lives. But now that I’m considering it, why would he think otherwise? Nobody says no to him, certainly not my brothers and sister. It’s pretty clear that it’s his way or the highway. That’s kind of mean, and he’s not that bad. He’s just… my dad.
I need to make sure my mom is still giving sizable donations to our charities. She tends to slack if I’m not there to remind her. Also, I should volunteer at the homeless shelter this weekend. That will make me feel better. That is, if we make it back by then.
What am I thinking? Of course, we’ll be back by the weekend. I’m picking up Gia and going straight to the dorm.
Glancing around, I blow out some air, which sounds like a small hiss. I have to calm down. But thinking about my dad and what he would do if he had any clue I was pulling into a motorcycle club instead of on my way back to Berkeley makes my head pound and heart race.
Taking another deep breath, I push all thoughts of my dad aside and look around. It seems harmless enough. I mean, come on, there are trees, grass, and a large house looming ahead.
I turn right and slowly drive onto the property, the new tires crunching on the gravel. The smell of dirt filters in through the vents. My eyes shift to the rearview mirror and back. I feel like a crazy person. Gia assured me I’d be safe, but I can’t stop my imagination from taking over.
Frantically, I look around for bikers with guns drawn, ready to shoot me because I’m on their property in this giant, horrible BMW.
Instead, all I see is a dirt road along with dew on the grass reminding me it’s early morning.
