by Tillie Cole
“Well, I can’t take you back to my place. Styx would pitch a fit if I took you from the club, especially with folks out there targeting the place.”
For the second time since I had arrived, I felt out of place, the intruder who did not belong.
“You can stay here.” Letti, Beauty, and I spun our heads round in formation to stare at Rider. Shrugging, he held up his hands. “What? I’m just lying here, bored shitless. Stay.”
“Oh-kay…” Beauty sounded out, then smiled at me brightly. “You seen a movie before, honey?”
A movie? Obviously, the confusion on my face gave her my answer.
“Stay here. I’m gonna grab one.”
Letti groaned. “Don’t you fuckin’ get The Notebook. I can’t watch that shit again. Get something with a high body count!”
“I second that!” Rider shouted at Beauty’s retreating form.
Beauty put one hand on her hip and batted the other in front of her face in dismissal. “Shut it. I’m gonna show Mae what it should look and feel like when a man really loves a woman, okay? I mean, shit! She needs it after today!”
“Whatever, Sunshine Barbie. I’m gonna catch a nap.” Letti moved to the sofa and sat down, closing her eyes. Beauty, after sticking her middle finger up at Letti’s back, left the room to get the movie.
“How’s your arm?” Rider’s question startled me.
I stepped closer to his bed and ran my finger over the faded linen of the sheet. “It is fine, just a scratch.” I lowered my eyes, filling up once more, my emotions taking control. Then I lifted them to look right in his eyes. “Thank you for saving me today. You do not know what that means to me.”
He smiled, his light-brown irises shining. I felt my heart begin to pound. “Anytime. We’ll find who did this and we’ll make ’em pay. Styx won’t rest until they’re all dead.”
I did not respond. I did not want to know what would happen to the men when caught. I did not want to know the details of their demise. Feeling a gentle tickle on my hand, I glanced down to see Rider’s fingers pressing against mine. Flicking my eyes up to meet his, I noticed his long shoulder-length hair was free of its ponytail and bandana. It lay loose and free. For the very first time, I saw Rider in a whole new light.
He was beautiful…
Beauty came bursting back through the door, waving a plastic box in her hand, causing Rider to abruptly withdraw his hand.
“I’ve got it! Come on, Mae. You gotta see this!”
“Go have fun,” Rider urged.
Fun.
Tipping my chin in thanks, I walked to the couch, glancing back over my shoulder one more time, only to see Rider watching my every move. His brown eyes shone. As I tucked my nose into the wide neck of the sweatshirt, I inhaled. It smelled like Rider: outdoors and fresh air.
“You ready?” Beauty asked as she dropped to the seat beside me, switching on the large black box. Reluctantly, I switched my focus from Rider to the large black screen in front me—a TV, Beauty termed it.
She picked up a long black device and pressed a button. Lights and sound came blaring out of the screen, and I jumped. Beauty and Letti laughed on seeing my reaction. “Still not used to TV, Mae?”
As I shook my head, Letti slapped me on the back. “Best fuckin’ invention ever made. You’ll learn to love it!”
Pictures flooded the large screen and I settled farther back into the soft cushion.
“You mind if I join you ladies?” Rider asked as he made his way to the sofa, protecting his injured arm. He stood before the three of us, still shirtless, causing my palms to itch. He was a lot softer than Styx. He was free of scars and he had the kindest smile. In contrast, Styx was all hard edges and gruffness. He was brooding, dark and unkempt, and had the most amazing eyes I had ever seen.
Styx was sin; Rider was peace.
A wave of nervousness swept over me as I contrasted and compared the two of them. Beauty snapped me out of my reverie by answering Rider’s question.
“Sure thing, honey.” She nudged my side and winked playfully. “Didn’t think romance was your thing.”
Rider huffed and flicked his middle finger in the air. “It’s not. I’m bored and if I have to lay in that bed for one more hour, I’m gonna wind up killing someone.”
Rider took a seat on the floor in front of me, his shoulder leaning flush against my curled leg. I stiffened and glanced at Beauty who was staring daggers at Rider. I watched in amusement as her eyebrows furrowed into a frown and her arms crossed her ample chest.
The act was innocent. He had been shot. He was probably craving affection. Being ordered to stay at the club instead of being allowed to go home must have been hard on him. If Beauty, Letti and I had not invaded his state of forced isolation with our impromptu session, he would have remained alone, no doubt feeling sore and ill.
Feeling better about his nearness, I settled back and commenced watching the movie.
It was breath-taking, soul-shatteringly beautiful and I clenched the shabby fabric of the sofa in my fists. A huge lump formed in my throat as a flock of white birds flew across a lake, depicting the closing scene of the movie.
Beauty was sniffing beside me. Even Letti’s tough exterior seemed sorely tested as she squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. She was trying in vain to feign indifference to the deeply emotional story.
Rider reached for the black device—I was told it was a remote—with his good arm and switched off the TV. The four of us sat in complete silence.
Beauty wiped off the last of her tears and her cheeks glowed red. She deliberately turned to me and asked, “So what did you make of it, honey?”
“I… I… I did not know it could be like that between two people.” I swallowed and wrapped the sweater tighter around my body. “So this is true love?”
“This kinda love is what people want, Mae. Unfortunately, only a few seem to get it.”
“Do you have it with Tank?”
Her whole face brightened. She smiled so widely that I immediately envied her. “Yeah, darlin’, I do. Took a lot to get us here. He had a past. Hell, so did I. But we found a way out. We got through some tough shit together, but I wouldn’t change a damn thing. He’s my entire world, and I know I’m his.”
Reaching over, I gripped her hand and squeezed hard. “You are very lucky, Beauty. I envy what you have.” She squeezed my hand right back and leaned in to kiss me on my cheek.
“So, Rider, what about you?” Letti asked as she glanced down at Rider on the floor.
He tipped back his head, his brown eyes bright. “What?”
“Been in love? In the years you’ve been with the Hangmen, I’ve never even seen you even pick up a slut. Got some bitch you pining for somewhere?”
Rider bowed his head and muttered, “No, no bitch, anywhere.”
“You want to be with someone you love,” I whispered knowingly.
Turning to face me, he shrugged his uninjured shoulder and ducked his eyes. “Way I was raised. Can’t shake it. My momma used to quote something all the damn time. Can’t seem to get it outta my head. Love is patient. Love is kind…’”
“It does not envy. It does not boast. It is not proud,” I whispered.
Rider’s eyes looked up, softened and he shifted all the way around to face me. “It does not dishonor others. It is not self-seeking. It is not easily angered. It keeps no record of wrongs.”
“Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”
We recited the scripture back and forth until the last line, when he spoke these words: “And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love.”
Our eyes locked, our bodies unmoving, as the words took hold. He was just like me.
Lord, he was just like me… I did not know…
Letti shattered the moment. “What the fuck’re you two talking about?”
Coughing, Rider met Letti’s gaze. “It’s fr
om the Bible, Letti. We were quoting scripture. First Corinthians.”
“Hell, I know Mae’s from some damn nut-job cult, but I didn’t know you were too!”
I flinched at Letti’s words. Nut-job cult? Is that what they all thought of me?
Rider gave nothing away. He never talked about where he had come from or how he had been raised. I was desperate to know. The fact that Rider was like me made me feel as if I had a friend, someone who truly understood. What I could not understand was why he was here, a part of a club like this, one of the Hangmen. Styx had told me himself that the brothers kill, trade in guns, use violence on an everyday basis. I could not see how that life fit with his faith. But then again, I concluded that he was just like me. I no longer wanted to be bound by my faith’s rigid bonds. I wanted to try new things, move on from that stifling existence. Part of me was not even sure I believed in a God anymore. Then again, hearing Rider recite that verse made me feel safe, whole again. Ugh! I just did not know who or what I was without The Order, without the duties of being a sister.
Beauty instantly jumped to her feet, looking down at me, smiling, but I could see it was forced. Her blue eyes were tight and she kept glancing to Rider on the floor.
“Come on, Mae. Let’s go.”
“Go where?”
“We should leave Rider to rest. Now, come on!” Her voice raised in volume to emphasise what she wanted me to do.
“Oh, yes. Rider, I am sorry. We have probably outstayed our welcome. We should—”
“You haven’t outstayed your welcome.” He interrupted.
I paused; relieved, I sat back down. “Thank you.”
“Thanks for the offer, Rider, but we need to see Styx.” Beauty moved to grab my arm, but I held it back.
“I do not want to see him yet, Beauty.”
“But—”
Holding up my hand, I asserted, “No, Beauty! You and Letti go. That is fine. I am not ready to go. I would prefer to stay here away from Styx. I cannot face him… yet.”
Beauty’s mouth dropped at my firm words, then she pointed to Rider. “You better watch out. When Prez hears you’re in here with Mae, he’ll go fuckin’ crazy.”
Rider smoldered. Only then did I see the biker shine through, the outlaw lurking beneath the surface. “We ain’t doing nothing wrong. She’s simply staying a while. Fuck, she’s been living in here for weeks anyhow. And now you choose to act shady ’bout it?”
Beauty cocked her eyebrow and laughed. “Right. You keep telling yourself that.” And walked out of the room. Letti tapped me affectionately on the shoulder as she passed and followed Beauty out into the corridor.
They left the door open and once we heard them leave the corridor for the bar, Rider stood and sat beside me on the sofa. He smelled of soap and outdoors, and I found myself leaning in closer.
“You still pissed about Styx and Dyson? That why you don’t wanna leave?”
I could not meet his eyes. “Yes and no. I know I do not know Styx well, but he hurt me being with her. I thought he was better than that. We share a… connection, but I feel he always pushes me away.”
“Styx is a biker. He makes his own rules, his own laws, and lives any way he chooses. As do I, as do all the brothers in this club. He’s not like these dicks on the sappy movies, Mae. This ain’t an easy life. You ain’t gonna get a happily ever after here. You stay for the love of the club. Prez was born to be in charge, but it ain’t easy on him either, not with…” He trailed off, clearly referring to Styx’s speech impediment.
Sighing, I said, “I know, but right now, I just cannot be near him. Plus…”
“Plus what?”
I shrugged. “I like being with you. I like spending time… with you.”
Rider’s hand landed gently on mine.
Reaching over, I ran my fingers down his long hair, catching a strand that fell over his eye. It was so soft and Rider’s bare stomach tightened in response and his breath paused.
Snatching back my hand, I said, “You look different with your hair like this.”
“Do I?” he said betraying a small smile.
“Mm-hmm. I like it free and wild. It suits you.”
I watched as Rider’s lips rubbed together, his chest erratically rising and falling. My hands began to shake as I stared at him and my nose twitched in nerves.
Clearing his throat, he asked, “How about we watch another movie?”
Sighing, thankful for the distraction, I answered, “I would like that.”
He stood and walked to the TV, allowing me to slouch back and—if only for a moment—relax.
Chapter Fourteen
Styx
Throwing open the door to my shed, I walked into the wide-open space. A large skinhead was strapped to a lone chair. I caught the fucker lift his head and spotted “SS”, “KKK” tattoos and swastikas plastered all over his skin.
Skinheads.
Motherfuckin’ Neo’s!
Ky followed behind me as Viking, AK, and Flame stood to the side, glowering at the dick. Frantically, his eyes darted around at the five of us. Shedding my shirt as I made my way to my blade cabinet, the White Power bastard decided to open his stupid fuckin’ mouth.
“I won’t talk!” He tracked my movements, his eyes widening as I picked out my starter knife. “Yo, man! Ain’t nothing you can do that’ll make me talk.”
Taking out my strop, I set to sharpening my Bowie hunting knife, the hard steel scraping on thick leather.
“Hey, you with the knife! I’m talking to you!”
Flame lost his shit and cracked the cunt ’round his face, then gripped his cheeks in his hands. “He don’t talk. Haven’t you heard the rumors over in Hicksville?”
Placing the strop down, I walked to stand in front of the steroid-pumped-up son of a bitch who took out Lois. He swallowed and a bead of sweat trickled down his face. “The Hangmen Mute…?” he whispered, as realization hit.
I simply smiled in response. Yeah, it’s the motherfuckin’ mute.
The chair began rocking as the Nazi fought to get free of his restraints. I just shook my head and tutted. He froze as I got closer and I could smell the stench of his piss pooling on the floor.
“Shit, Prez, your reputation preceeds ya!” Viking clapped his hands together, booming out a laugh along with AK.
I jerked my chin, instructing Ky to join me.
Spinning the blade in my hand, I clutched the handle. To get things moving, I pressed the tip to the fucker’s already bare chest, then I began carving out part one of my signature mark—a torso-long H. I ripped deep enough into the skin to cause nail-biting pain, but not enough to puncture any main organs. Now this shit takes skill.
Getting a damn hard-on from the Nazi’s agonized scream, I stood back admiring my handiwork. AK stepped up behind me and whistled low.
“Prez, now that’s one fine piece of fuckin’ art!”
The Nazi, now delirious with pain, squirmed in the chair. The thick, rough ropes constantly rubbed his wrists, exposing more and more raw skin.
“I ain’t talkin’,” he spat out in a thick Texan accent. “If I do, it’ll only bring me death, either by you or by my crew. Way I see it, I’m dead either way.”
The summer heat was a fuckin’ bitch in this shed and, three hours later, the KKK fucker’s resilience was starting to crack. Intel gained so far was that the guy who put up the bid for the Hangmen hit was new. He didn’t affiliate with any existing gang, mob, or MC. Some suit. Some rich suit who promised to get their Grand Wizard outta jail—the shitbag was serving twenty after slaying some Jew who’d refused to work his taxes.
Question was, how did some suit know where the fuck we were today? The skinhead needed to tell me who was leaking intel about or within my club.
Ky brought me a towel and I wiped the dripping sweat from my chest, dropping it to the floor. My jeans were covered in the Neo’s spattered blood. They were past saving. Wiping the hair out of my face, I stepped forward, smiling; the guy swallowe
d hard.
Part two of my signature.
“You heard of a Chelsea smile?” Ky asked the skinhead.
His eyes widened and he nodded slowly, darting his gaze between me and Flame, who was beside me clapping his hands and slapping them on his head in excitement.
The Nazi’s nostrils flared as I approached his chair, spinning the Bowie knife in my fingers. Crouching before him, I signed, One last chance to give up the name of who tried to take us out today, or you’ll be wearing a permanent red smile for the rest of your bastard life. Ky translated.
“I said, I don’t know! But…”
“But what?” Ky hissed.
“But we were told not to stop until you were dead. Take your bitches too.” His Klan eyes met mine. Some fucker wanted me dead? Nothing new there. But they’d wanted Lois dead, the women dead; no one fucks with the brothers’ bitches and lives to see another day.
Flame roared and flew forward, digging his nails into the sides of his neck. “Where’s your fuckin’ crew’s base?”
The Nazi shook his head, sweat pouring down his face.
“Tell me or I’ll rip off your cock and shove it up your ass!”
“An… abandoned… garage… just outside of Airport Boulevard.”
Flame stood, throwing me a smirk. Turning my back, I clicked my neck and swung back around, the knife at the perfect angle to slice my target.
The skinhead screamed. He screamed a whole fuckin’ lot. The chair screeched on concrete and the bastard’s head cracked loudly against the hard surface when the chair tipped over. Flame began banging on the wall, laughing hysterically. He really was one sick motherfucker.
The screaming continued, but Ky stepped forward and shouted, “No use, man. Ain’t nobody gonna hear you out here, you racist fuck!”
He paled. With his head flopping from side to side, he whispered something and I stepped closer.
What? I signed.
Ky voiced my question out loud.
Raising his dazed-to-fuck eyes, his cheeks flapping open, he rasped, “Suit… had something… to do with… Senator Collins.”