RMCB 07_Bound by Consequences

by Ryan Michele

  Grabbing the folder and opening it, I got started on the intake process, so they’d have the woman’s information when she got into a bay.

  Princess stood over me, seething. Yes. Seething. I could tell because her nostrils would flair, and she kept making fists. The woman was about to explode with each second that ticked by. It was apparent to everyone in the room that she was struggling to remain in place. Knowing Princess as I did now, I knew she simply wanted to be in the fight with whomever hurt this woman.

  “Is Ryker coming here when he’s done on the run?” I asked quietly, still learning about this motorcycle club life my cousin led.

  Her features softened just a bit. “He’ll be takin’ care of this”—she angled her head to the beat-up woman—“problem. So, no.”

  A sense of pride washed over me. “Good.”

  Three hours later, Austyn was wheeling out Sandy, the blonde who was patched up as best as possible. “I’d hug you, but you look like you’re in a hazmat suit.”

  To this I chuckled. “Feels like it.”

  5

  Micah

  When I woke up this morning, there felt like a shift in my world. Given my task for the day, meaning getting the shit beat out of me, it was most likely going to be a bad day. One that had been coming a long time, and I just wanted it over with so we could move on.

  Leaving Sumner wasn’t an easy choice. Living here was the only thing I’d ever known. Only I had this stirring of my soul that called for me to go out and see more of the world. I wanted to get out, far away from this place. Growing up, this wasn’t anything I thought about as my home in adulthood. Going to college, I thrived away from here.

  Then, something inside me changed, but it wasn’t enough. The pull to come home had finally started, but when I got here, things weren’t what I expected. Taking a hard look at myself in the mirror, I realized Sumner wasn’t the problem. Ravage wasn’t the problem. The problem was the man looking back at me in the mirror.

  The military was my out; at least, I saw it that way at the time. Looking at it now, the Marines turned out to be my saving grace. I’m the man I am today because of my time in the service.

  There are things I saw that I never imagined experiencing, things I never want to relive. But in all the bad, now I see just how good I always had it here with Ravage.

  I’d hated the Ravage MC for so many years, and all I could think about was getting far away from it. To be rid of the thing that took over our lives. Sure, I went to college, but I had to come back. Only my mindset was wrong. I came back to prove I had it better than Ravage … and in the end it left me on my ass knowing I didn’t have shit but a whole lot of attitude.

  My hate was misplaced.

  I knew that now. It didn’t mean that I walked away unscathed. The Ravage MC never let things slide, and before I left, I dropped a bomb on the club.

  The club had questions, and I had answers.

  Ones they wouldn’t like hearing. But it was time for it all to come out. It was time for the consequences of my actions. I got in club business, and no one without a patch needed to be in club business. I crossed a line. The man I had become knew the only way to move forward was to face what lay behind me.

  “Hey, Micah.” The soft knock came to the door as it creaked open, just like when I was a kid. My beautiful mother stood there reminding me of the past.

  “Hey, Mom. I’m already up.” The Marines taught me discipline and control. That included sleeping light and waking early. Not to mention, keeping my shit well put together.

  “You’ve made your bed?” Mom asked as I rose from it. I stopped myself from laughing out loud. As a kid, she couldn’t get me to make my bed ever. If I did “make it” that meant I tossed the comforter over the top, hiding the disheveled sheets beneath.

  “Yeah. Habit,” I muttered, looking back and seeing that I could indeed bounce a quarter off it if I needed to. Corners folded sharp and everything tucked in tight, I was at the ready for my day, and my rack was at the ready when the time to take my boots off happened to come.

  She shook her head. “Wish you would’ve done that in high school. It was hard enough to get you to eat with us.”

  A sigh escaped me. She wasn’t wrong. “I was a little shit. You can say it.”

  My mom wrapped her arms around me and hugged me tightly. I returned the gesture. It was one of many things I missed while gone. Her comfort. She’d always been such a rock for me, and I never gave her the recognition she deserved.

  Her body began to shake as I reassured, “It’ll be alright.” Whether it would or not was up in the air, but somehow, some way, I’d make it okay for her.

  “Sit,” she ordered, sitting on the bed, one that was very small and didn’t fit my frame one bit. It was a good thing my body adjusted to sleeping in difficult conditions. Luckily, though, the closing for the house had already gone through, and I’d be getting the keys later today.

  I followed her instructions, sitting next to her and wondering what she wanted to get off her chest. It could be a number of things.

  “Do you remember what we talked about? The conversation about why you hated the club?” she asked me. How could I ever forget? Even years ago, my memory was sharp.

  Her hand came to my shoulder. “Micah, talk to me. Just you and me. Tell me what’s going on with you.”

  Blowing out a breath, I picked out some more of the pictures. Some with me paying attention, others with me not. Each one a memory of my childhood, one that I wished I could go back and talk to my mother about. May as well get it out now.

  “You didn’t like Dad gone so much.”

  Mom jolted like what I was saying was out in left field, then cleared her throat. “I was fine with it.”

  Raising my brow, she shook her head. “Okay, there were times it was hard, but it was hard raising you, and with him gone a lot was put on my shoulders.”

  “But you never talked to him about it.”

  “How do you know that?” My mother’s eyes narrowed.

  “Because he always left again and sometimes longer than the time before. I heard you, Mom. Heard you in your room crying sometimes.”

  Her chin went down to her chest as she shook her head. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

  “But I did. I hated it. Hated that the club took him away from you and made you sad.”

  Her head lifted like a lightbulb had just gone off in her brain. Like the pieces of my puzzle were finally coming together for her. “And that’s why you have such an issue with the club.”

  I nodded.

  Her soft hands came to my face and cupped my cheeks. “Life is hard. There are no roadmaps that tell you what path to go down. It’s all trial and error. Sometimes you win a path, and sometimes it turns in to a mistake you can’t fix. I knew what I was getting into with your father. I knew he’d be gone because that’s part of his job. Yes, some times were hard because it’s overwhelming being alone with a small kid running under your feet all the time, but I’ve never once thought badly of your father or the club because of it. Those were my feelings, and I didn’t project them on anyone else. Not even you. I’m sorry that you heard, but I wish you would’ve talked to me then, not bottled it all up for so long.”

  My chest hurt. She was right. I should’ve talked to her. But once again I was young and didn’t want anyone to see her differently. I thought I was protecting her, but instead, I turned my mind into knots.

  Club life had these men on such pedestals. You didn’t ask questions, and you didn’t ever do anything to make you look weak. That’s how it seemed when I was a boy. Like what kind of family doesn’t allow someone to have a bad day. Now, as a man, I could see it was not that way. The vision was skewed. They had each other’s backs so no one was ever alone, and there was always strengths in numbers. I just couldn’t see it back then.

  “Sorry,” I whispered, feeling tears well in my eyes; not that I’d let a single one fall.

  “No, I’m sorry becaus
e my actions caused you to have a skewed outlook on the club, your father, and me. That’s not something you need to carry around with you, and it pains me that it has.”

  “I didn’t tell you this to make you sad. I just…”

  She reached out and cupped my face. “No. I’m not sad or disappointed with you at all.”

  “But…”

  “At myself, yes. Because I didn’t see it.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “I talked to your father about those times. I told him about you hearing me cry when he left and how you felt about it. I also told him how I felt about it.”

  “That’s good. You needed to.”

  Her hand comes to my knee and squeezes. “You sure are hard with muscles.” She chuckled, then continued. “Your perception of that time shaped the way you looked at the club, your father, and me.”

  I started to say something, but she squeezed my legs to halt me.

  “They were preconceived notions and not an actual depiction of our lives. I know you said you saw it back then, but if you truly did, why did you start looking into the Ravage MC? Why dig into our family if you knew you hadn’t seen things quite right. They’re going to ask you that.”

  This was heavy. “There are a lot of ways I can answer this, Mom, but just know that I will answer anything they ask me truthfully. It’s club business, and I get that now; therefore, I’ll talk to them. Know that I’m okay. I’m not the same scared boy who got his heart broken. Not even close.”

  “I respect that. Know that I love you no matter what.” She leaned over and wrapped her arms around me once again. “You need to make sure that you’re ready for whatever they throw at you. Bein’ your momma, I want to let my inner lion out and protect you, but I can’t. There isn’t a damn thing I can do in this situation, Micah, and that kills me.”

  “I’ll be fine, Ma. I promise. You don’t have to worry about me.”

  Her hand squeezed. “I’ll worry about you until I take my last breath on this earth. That’s what being a parent is. You feel for your child and would bleed for them to take all of their pain away. One day you’ll understand it when you have your own kids.”

  “That won’t be any time soon, Mom.” I gave a slight shoulder shrug because I honestly wasn’t sure kids were in my future, but that was a conversation for a different time.

  Her smile lit up the room, making the heavy of the conversation evaporate. “You never know what life’ll throw at ya. Come get some breakfast.”

  Life wouldn’t be throwing me that particular thing for a long damn time.

  My father was sitting at the table with a cup of coffee in his hand and the remote in the other. He turned down the television, his attention coming to us. “Sleep good?”

  “I can sleep anywhere,” I answered, moving to the table. Another gift from Uncle Sam and military training. Hot, cold, dirty, clean, gunfire … all of it prepared me to sleep light and wherever the location took me. My mom went to the countertop and grabbed a huge platter. Instantly, I darted over and grabbed the platter, taking it to the table.

  “Thank you.” She kissed my cheek as we took our seats.

  “That’s not what I asked you, Micah,” my dad interjected as I scooted my chair up to the table.

  Mom stilled, sucking in a breath. She was so on edge about me being here and what would happen. Hell, it seemed she was even freaked about how my dad and I would get along. Sure, there were lots of bridges that needed to be rebuilt, but that didn’t mean I’d back down from any of them.

  My father and I had our issues, but the biggest one was the respect I had for him and he had for me. That I knew had to be mended to the point it was sealed tight. We were making strides but things weren’t simple between us for sure.

  “No. Bed’s small, but it sure as hell beats laying in the dirt with bullets flying at your head.”

  My father smiled, obviously liking that answer which puzzled me because bullets flying was never funny, but maybe it was my frank honesty. Hell if I knew. It was like learning them both all over again.

  My mother, on the other hand, gasped, obviously not liking that analogy. “I’m not ready to hear about that. Not yet.”

  “Sorry. Just answering the man’s question.” I reached over and took my mother’s hand, giving it a squeeze in hopes of giving her just a bit of assurance.

  My father took his food off the platter and passed it to me. Scrambled eggs, bacon, toast and pancakes. It had been over four and a half years since I’d had a home-cooked meal from my mom, and I was starved for it.

  After living on MRE’s, and takeout when I was stateside, this was heaven. I had eaten enough meals in the chow hall to last my lifetime. This was a five-star gourmet meal.

  “Now that’s honest, and we can get ya a bigger bed,” my dad added, forking his food and taking a bite.

  I nodded, understanding the reason for his question. “Thanks, but my house is ready for me to move in today. The realtor that handled the rental while I was gone said it’s empty now and ready. Once I get the keys, I plan to go to storage and get my stuff out.”

  “You’re not staying here?” my mother asked, not hiding the sadness in her tone.

  “Mom, I’m twenty-seven-years-old and need my own space. It’s nothing against you, but I need to start my life, and I can’t do that in my childhood room.”

  “Do you have money for that? To be living in the house instead of using it as rental income?” Dad asked.

  I nodded, taking a bite of eggs. Since I was an officer, the housing provided wasn’t bad and neither were my paychecks. I had banked a bit during these four years, not to mention the money from before I left. Things were not tight at all. Once I got my regular clients geared up, it would all work out even better so that nest egg could grow.

  I continued scooping and eating another bite of eggs. Mom made the best freaking scrambled eggs. It was the milk that made them extra fluffy. Something that not everyone could do, and I could eat a damn dozen of them. After swallowing, I answered. “Yes. Got money banked, contacted a few of my previous clients, and was able to secure some jobs.”

  Dad coughed. “Computers?” he asked almost hesitantly, which wasn’t like him, but it was also the reason I ended up leaving in the first place, and it had him on edge.

  But I met him head-on, our eyes connected. I needed him to feel me.

  To get me.

  To understand me.

  What I did for clients could get me in trouble, but digging into the Ravage MC was worse making me lose the respect of the entire club. “Yes. I’ll be doing the same as before. It’s what I’m good at.”

  “Maybe too good. You dug into shit you didn’t have any right to be in. That shit is gonna cost ya.” His tone was different. As a boy, I thought my father’s voice always thundered. I had learned that was another thing where my mind heightened every sense, including the sounds he made. But this, this was altogether not his usual. He was firm but not angered, more concerned.

  My heart hammered in my chest. It wasn’t in fear. No, it was in shame and guilt. Those two things could be worse than any fear imaginable. I’d let my father down. I broke a sacred trust in the club. Some might even view me like an enemy to people I desperately wanted to be family.

  “I know.”

  “You’re not scared?” Dad asked, his brow raised. He didn’t know what I’d been through. He didn’t know the challenges I faced daily. He didn’t know anything of the past four years except the watered down version I shared. This would be just something else to add to the list.

  “No, not scared, Dad. Just ashamed. That’s an entirely different thing.”

  My father smiled, and that was that. He seemed good with my answer, and it was the honest truth. Whatever they dished out, I could take. I understood the need for payback. I understood the need for revenge.

  A cell went off, and my dad reached into his pocket, pulled it out, looked at the display and left the table. This meant it was the club.


  They were probably wanting to make sure I didn’t hightail it out of here before they got a chance to beat the hell out of me. As a kid, that would’ve been the outcome. Now as a grown man, hiding would never be an option for me.

  My mom reached over and grabbed my hand. “I’m scared for you.”

  Inside of me cracked. I never wanted to cause her an ounce of pain, sadness, or fear. Clutching her hand, I stared deep into her eyes. “I’ll be just fine, Ma. Promise.”

  “It’s not gonna be pretty, Micah.” Her head shook. “You didn’t see them after you left…”

  Reassuring her wasn’t going to be easy. She loved me and had never stopped no matter what I said or did; she’d always been there for me.

  “I know, and no I have no clue what’s going to happen. But know this, just like bein’ out in the field, I’ll do my damnedest to come back home.”

  A stray tear left my mom’s eye just as my dad returned. I couldn’t get a read on his face.

  “Meeting is moved until tonight,” he ordered, looking at me, then to my mom. “Gotta run. Club business.” He leaned down and kissed my mom on the lips and then took off.

  Memories of the past crashed into me. My father leaving. My mother crying. Feeling left out of the fold at every turn. But this time, it was different. There was no pain. There was no guilt or anger in my father leaving. There was just my dad going out to take his brothers backs.

  I wished I’d have seen this before.

  “Sounds good.”

  My mother smiled. “We can spend the day together!”

  “Sure, but I’ve gotta go get the keys to my place and go to the storage unit.”

  Her nose scrunched a bit. “Not liking you not living here.”

  “Grown man and need my own space.”

  She sighed. “Fine, but we’re spending time together today!”

  That was what we did, spending the day together and getting into my new place.