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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cash, The Ride Series Second Generation

  Copyright © Megan O’Brien 2019

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, photocopying, mechanical, or otherwise, without prior permission of the author.

  Edited by Hot Tree Editing

  Cover Photography by Wander Aguiar :: Photography

  E-book formatting by Maureen Cutajar

  www.gopublished.com

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1

  LAYLA

  The muted hum of conversation drifted around me with few actual words filtering through. The clamor of sound reached my ears as though through water; appropriate, since I felt like I was drowning. The soft suede of my nan’s couch underneath my fingertips offered much needed support as I grasped anything remotely familiar, drifting as I was on a sea of loss.

  “Did you hear me, Miss West?”

  The lawyer’s impatient tone implied he’d spoken more than once.

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “I said it’s yours. The house.”

  “This house?” I asked in disbelief, gesturing around the home my nan had retired to over a decade ago in Hawthorne, Nevada.

  “This house,” he affirmed. “Now if you’ll just sign the papers.” He held what looked like a small novel out for my perusal.

  I stared down at the stack of paperwork and back up at him in bewilderment. “My nan just died,” I whispered. “We were just at the cemetery,” I continued, pointing out the obvious. “I don’t even, I can’t even….”

  “Marty, why don’t you get a beer and give Layla a freaking second to breathe,” a familiar voice ordered as Emmie Jackson slid in next to me and wrapped a protective arm around my shoulders.

  “Thanks,” I muttered gratefully to the woman who’d started as my nan’s nurse and had become a friend in recent months.

  “He’s a shark,” she grumbled irritably, glaring at Marty’s back as he made his way hastily toward the kitchen. “He went to high school with us and was never the brightest bulb.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure how he managed to become a lawyer, to be honest.”

  I wasn’t surprised he’d jumped to her command. One thing I’d learned about Emmie—and it hadn’t taken long—was that she was respected and well-known. Her brother was the president of the Knights Motorcycle Club, and though I didn’t know much about the club other than that the few men I’d seen were easy on the eyes, anyone paying the slightest attention could tell they ran things in the town of Hawthorne.

  “My nan, she left me the house,” I shared through numb lips.

  She gave me a gentle squeeze before dropping her arm. “Are you surprised?” Her gaze drifted to my five-year-old daughter on the opposite couch watching a show on my iPad. “She wanted what’s best for you and Riley.”

  I bit my lip as the reality of my situation hit me hard. My nan and I had been close. Though we lived in different states, we talked frequently, and Riley and I had visited as often as we could. “She’s really gone.” Even saying it out loud, I still didn’t entirely believe it.

  “Yeah, she is,” Em acknowledged gently. “But she left you with options. You’ve said things haven’t been ideal in San Francisco. Maybe a change of scenery is exactly what you both need.”

  A change of scenery and financial security—the latter my top priority for Riley and something we didn’t have nearly enough of in San Francisco.

  Leave it to Nan to give me a nudge from beyond the grave. I nearly smiled at the thought.

  “The girls and I will help,” she added, referring to her close group of friends who were more like family and all associated with the club somehow.

  “Em, they barely know me,” I protested.

  She rolled her eyes. “Please. They know you enough to know they like you. Who wouldn’t? You’re awesome, Layla. We’ll always welcome another kick-ass female into the tribe. Plus, then we get Riley.” She grinned affectionately. The two had developed a tight bond over the past few months.

  “She’s not up for grabs.” I laughed for the first time in days.

  She looked at me, her eyes warm. “But you’re a package deal.”

  I nodded, acknowledging what had been true for the past two years, when I’d turned from Riley’s aunt to her adopted mother. “We are,” I agreed softly, looking over at her and feeling my chest expand with pure love, a love that had only grown since we’d become an us.

  “I can have Gunner look over the paperwork,” she offered, referring to one of the guys in the club I’d met once in passing. “He’s good with lawyer shit.”

  “Anybody’s better than me,” I muttered. “That would be great.”

  I wasn’t about to turn away help, not now.

  “What else can I do?” she asked gently.

  “Um, get rid of all these people?” I pleaded, looking around the room at the sea of unfamiliar faces. My nan had been popular in town. With her big personality and quick wit, it was no surprise so many people wanted to pay their respects. But it was Riley’s bedtime and if I was being honest, mine too.

  She stood up with a nod that, through seeing her in her element at the hospital, I knew meant business. “Done.”

  True to her word, people almost immediately began filtering out, some coming to share their condolences one more time. I tried to force some semblance of being put together, to remember names or, hell, at least a face or two but it was all just an endless wave of numbness.

  Finally, when the house was blissfully empty, I curled up next to my girl.

  “Time to turn it off, baby,” I told her quietly, pulling the iPad from her lap.

  She looked up as though surprised to find an empty house. The way she could zone out so completely was mildly terrifying and why I limited her screen time, but on a day like today, I was grateful she could. “Everyone is gone?”

  “Yeah, honey. Time for bed. Let’s get you changed.”

  Her brow wrinkled in confusion. “We’re staying here?”

  Maybe forever. I kept that thought to myself as I pulled her into my arms, intent on carrying her up the stairs.

  “But Nan’s not here,” she confirmed.

  “That’s right, baby,” I replied around the lump in my throat.

  “Because she’s dead?” she asked. At five, Riley didn’t understand how to sidestep a question or to frame it gently; it was refreshing most of the time. But now, when I was exhausted down to my bones, her blunt question made
my eyes prick with tears. “Yeah, baby, Nan’s in heaven,” I reminded her.

  The idea of death wasn’t something we’d talked about before, and she was clearly still trying to understand what it meant.

  Hell, weren’t we all?

  “Right.” She nodded thoughtfully. “Will I see her in the morning?”

  I cleared my throat, trying not to show my emotion. “No, honey. Let’s brush your teeth.”

  Thankfully, she was too tired to keep asking questions as I got her ready for bed, tucking her into the guest room Nan had decorated just for her.

  “Oscar!” Riley squealed when Nan’s albino cat appeared from under the bed. The cat was deaf, had been since birth, and not a fan of crowds or people in general. He’d disappeared when the first guests had begun to arrive that afternoon.

  Not that I blamed him.

  He jumped on the bed, his purr like a small motor as he curled up next to Riley. She seemed to be the only exception he made to his whole anti-person stance.

  “Night, baby,” I whispered as her eyelids drooped. It had been a long, confusing day.

  “Night, Mama.”

  My heart soared every time she called me that, and I wondered if it always would.

  I left her door cracked and wandered down to my nan’s room. Perhaps it should have felt strange, but I found it comforting to curl up on her bed. It smelled like Noxzema and lavender soap, like Nan.

  With her smell all around me and my little girl sleeping contentedly down the hall, I drifted into a fitful sleep.

  Chapter 2

  LAYLA

  The house, it’s yours.

  The lawyer’s words woke me from a restless sleep. Now, as I roamed the house in what had become a nightly routine, the moonlight shining its muted beam through the living room, I wondered if I’d ever sleep soundly again. This house, though my nan had lived here for years and I’d visited on occasion, was still new to me, as were all of the creaks and moans it made when the rest of the world was quiet.

  And it was quiet.

  After living in San Francisco with its steady stream of noise, nights here were almost oppressively quiet—allowing far too many thoughts to swirl and plant themselves deep.

  I wandered the large house, taking in the living room furniture complete with striped couches that though comfortable, clashed something awful with the floral wallpaper. My nan had been many things but an interior designer wasn’t one of them. Despite the assault on my eyes, I smiled fondly, remembering sitting with her here, catching up during one of my visits to see her.

  My perusal continued through the kitchen that, though outdated, had been well maintained. My nan had taken pride in her home.

  A home that was now mine.

  I was still getting used to that fact two weeks later.

  In the end, the decision to leave San Francisco had been easy. My job as a commercial photographer was steady, but with rents sky-high in San Francisco, I’d been struggling to make ends meet. The fact that I could do my job from almost anywhere and that I now didn’t have to worry about rent or a mortgage gave Riley and me the stability we both needed. I hadn’t realized how worried I’d been financially until now. And, despite the adjustment to small-town living, I liked Hawthorne. Always had.

  I climbed the steps, crested the landing, and headed for Riley’s room. I found her flat on her back, her arms and legs splayed as though she’d fought the sheets and won. Her dark hair was spread across the pillow, her expression soft with sleep. Her ever-present protector, Oscar, lay curled up at the foot of her bed where he’d slept every night since we’d moved in.

  I’d belabored it enough and, with a resigned sigh, made my way to what was now my room, the master at the end of the hall. I’d bought new sheets but other than that I’d kept the room largely unchanged. It felt oddly natural to move into Nan’s room. Somehow it made me feel less alone.

  I sent up a silent prayer that I could get at least a few hours of rest as I burrowed under the covers, willing my mind to quiet right along with the night outside.

  “Mama.” A whisper yell and small hand shaking my arm woke me far too early the next day.

  “RiRi, it’s early baby,” I mumbled, cracking an eye open to spy her staring expectantly back at me, her blue eyes wide and, unfortunately for me, wide awake. “Want to curl up with me for a while?” I invited hopefully.

  She shook her head. “You said we were going for muffins this morning, ’member?”

  “Yeah, baby, but not at—” I let out a groan when I saw the clock. “—five thirty.”

  She’d been waking up especially early since we’d moved, sometimes crawling into bed with me in the middle of the night.

  She stared at me, clearly trying to come up with a new strategy that would pull me out of bed before the sun. “How about some Sesame Street?” I bargained.

  She bit her lip, deliberating before she nodded in agreement.

  Thank God.

  I pulled out my iPad as she climbed up into my bed, making herself comfortable as I started her show.

  ****

  “Two chocolate-banana muffins, please,” I ordered at a much more reasonable hour later that morning. In our short time in Hawthorne, we hadn’t been out much, but Francesca’s Sweets with its delicious pastries had quickly become a favorite.

  “And a large coffee for Mama?” May winked from behind the counter.

  With the amount of times I’ve been in the coffee shop over the last few weeks, we were on a first-name basis.

  “What was your first clue?” I laughed as Riley stood, practically quivering with excitement as she waited for me to hand over her muffin.

  “Emmie!” Riley squealed excitedly, her eyes toward the door.

  I turned to watch my friend approach, a broad grin on her beautiful face.

  “Hi, RiRi. That’s a large coffee, Layla,” she commented with a grin and a raised brow toward me.

  “This little hellion was up at five thirty,” I replied dryly.

  “Enough said.” She laughed and turned her eyes to the register. “May, mind bringing me over a cup?”

  “I didn’t realize you two knew each other,” I commented as Em pulled up a chair. “Though I shouldn’t be surprised,” I added with a laugh. “You know everyone.”

  She smiled but didn’t deny it. “May is Ryker and Piper’s daughter,” she replied, referring to another family from the club who I’d heard about but had yet to meet. “And such a hottie,” she added with a teasing grin at May.

  With her striking almond-shaped green eyes and black hair, May was a complete knockout and clearly shy, if her blush at Emmie’s teasing said anything about it.

  “So,” Em continued, turning eyes to me. “How goes the settling in? Did Amelia help you get things sorted for Riley’s school?”

  Once I’d decided to move, Emmie and her network had been quick to put the wheels in motion. Amelia, yet another daughter from the MC, was a kindergarten teacher, and as luck would have it, I was able to get Riley in to her class as well as their aftercare program. As a single, working mother, having those details sorted was like having a boulder lifted off my chest. I was beyond grateful to know Riley was in such good hands.

  “She did, thank you so much. Riley will love it,” I replied, hoping that was true. With those she was close to, Riley was outgoing and outrageously funny. But in new situations, she was shy and slow to come out of her shell. She was particularly cautious with men, even a bit leery.

  “She’ll be fine,” Emmie mouthed with a wink in my direction just as the roar of motorcycle pipes rattled the windows. I turned, watching as a group of five bikers passed on the street, the Knights MC insignia bold and bright on their vests. A few of their faces were familiar but the man toward the back of the pack was new to me—as was the intake of breath he incited. With his blond hair tied back into a knot, his blue eyes fierce as his larger-than-life muscles strained, he looked like a Viking warrior.

  I couldn’t remember the last
time my body had responded to a man so unequivocally. I watched him avidly until he disappeared down the street and around the corner. The coffee shop felt nearly silent in the wake of the motorcycle’s heady rumble.

  “That’s Cash Walker.” Emmie’s voice broke through my haze as she clearly picked up on where my gaze had been directed. “Good guy, trustworthy, not boyfriend material,” she warned.

  I blushed at the insinuation. “Oh, I wasn’t…. I mean, I didn’t….”

  She smiled knowingly. “I don’t blame you, he’s gorgeous. Knows it too, if you know what I mean.”

  “Yeah,” I muttered, my gaze on Riley. She was my priority; it wasn’t like I had the time for men anyway. But I had to admit, Cash Walker could take up a fantasy or twenty. No harm in that.

  “Are we doing dinner soon?” Emmie wanted to know.

  The friends of Emmie’s I’d met so far had been friendly and kind to Riley. Truth be told, I was a bit intimidated. They were obviously a tight bunch, and I didn’t exactly have a roaring social life, being a single mom.

  “If you want,” I agreed. “We’re just still settling in a bit.”

  She nodded. “We’ll come over when you’re ready, just name the date.”

  I nodded.

  “It’ll be fun, promise.”

  “Fun. I think I know how to do that,” I mused dryly.

  She laughed before turning eyes to Riley, who was clearly growing restless after finishing her breakfast. “RiRi, are we doing manicures soon?”

  “Yay!” she replied exuberantly.

  I laughed. “I think that’s a yes.”

  She stood, putting a hand on my shoulder and squeezing gently. “I’ll text you.”

  I nodded, beyond grateful for this woman who’d decided to take me and my girl under her wing.

  I’d always been fiercely independent, but now? I’d take all the help I could get.

  Chapter 3

  LAYLA

  “Do you want chocolate with vanilla frosting or vanilla with chocolate frosting?” I asked Riley as she stared at me expectantly from the shopping cart. I could still get her to sit in one on occasion.

  After needing to pick her up late from aftercare on only her third day of school, I was having a serious case of mom guilt, and Riley was cashing in. Hence our visit to the grocery store so close to bedtime.