Moira’s gone white as she struggles to find her voice. “Er, no. I’m with him.”
Later I’d come to think that was the moment that sealed her fate. Especially when I confirmed it. Pulling my back straight, I reinforce her words. “She’s my woman, Prez. Soon as I get patched in, I’m going to claim her.”
“Well, you’re not patched in yet, are you, boy?” His grin broadens as he turns back to Moira. “My son’s busy for now.” My eyes widen as he claims the relationship he usually prefers to forget, but as his head tilts indicating the queue of men forming, I can’t deny he’s not right. Then he continues, “I’ll let him take a break soon, but in the meantime, why don’t you and I get acquainted, particularly if we’re going to become family.”
She looks at me. I shrug. He’s acting out of character, but I’m in no position to argue. All I can do is take it at face value, and hope all he’s up to is questioning her to discover whether she’ll be a good fit for the club. For me, as the president’s son.
He doesn’t really give her a choice. His firm grip on her arm all but pulls her off the stool.
I have an uneasy feeling as she goes off with him, but while I don’t particularly like my father, I’m certain he wouldn’t hurt her. I told him she’s mine. As my president, and according to club rules, he’s right not to accept it. As my father, he should.
It seems everyone’s glass is empty. I lose sight of her as I’m run ragged trying to satisfy all their requests. When at last the pace slows, my eyes search the room, I’m unable to see her. But I’m the sole bartender tonight, I can’t leave my post, can’t go looking for her. Jeannie, I do see, sitting on Bomber’s lap, her skirt up around her waist, and though the material hides what they’re doing, their mutual groans suggest she’s getting what she wanted. A good fucking from a biker.
But where’s Moira? Half an hour? An hour? How long has she been gone? I’ve got an uneasy feeling, so strong it makes me think to fuck with this. It might mean I lose the patch I’ve worked so hard for, but I’m leaving this bar. Right now. My gut churns with urgency to find her as I slide out from behind the wooden planks which make up the bar top.
Fuck! There she is. Christ! She’s stumbling down the stairs, moving awkwardly, hanging on to the railing. Completely dishevelled. She’s crying.
I head over in her direction fast, roughly pushing brothers aside to get to her. “What the fuck?” I scream as I reach her.
Her eyes meet mine, she flinches, then she quickly looks away. No one stops her as she heads for the door. As she passes me, I can see her white jeans reddened with blood around the crotch.
“Noooooo!” I roar, as everything drops into place. “Moira! Moira!”
My screaming has caused the room to go silent. Even the music’s stopped. Jeannie’s jumped off Bomber’s lap, and is moving toward her friend, her hands straightening her skirt, her own pleasure forgotten in Moira’s obvious anguish.
“Moira.” I reach her, grabbing her arm.
“Leave me alone!” she screeches, shaking my hand off. “Don’t touch me!”
“I’m taking her home,” Jeannie snaps at me.
“I’m coming with you.”
“No. NO!” Moira is struggling to make her way out. “I never want to see you again.”
I try to go after her, Furnace, our VP is holding me back, his face is grim. “Let her go, Prospect.”
I shrug out of my cut, disrespectfully throwing it down on the floor. “I’m no prospect for this fuckin’ club!” How can I get my head around the only obvious conclusion, that my own father has raped my woman? The girl who was mine. The girl saving herself for me. How can I start to deal with something like that? There’s no doubt in my mind, that’s what has happened.
If I wasn’t in the club, she’d be mine already. He took her. Because I was going to make her my old lady.
If I can’t go after her, there’s only one thing that can be done. “I’m going to fuckin’ kill him!”
My hand goes to my waistband, and I take out my gun, heading toward the stairs that my father is just descending, a satisfied grin on his face as he finishes buckling his belt.
He sneers at me, before shouting, “Why’s the fuckin’ party stopped? Put the music back on. Prospect, get back to your place behind the fuckin’ bar.”
I raise my gun and step forward.
His eyes go wide, then he laughs. “You haven’t got the fuckin’ guts. Couldn’t even keep hold of your woman. Hadn’t even fucked her, you pussy. Now you’ll have to measure up to what I’ve got. Doubt you can do that. You’ll always be wondering, won’t you?”
I chamber a round, the sound echoing in the still quiet room. Before I can fire, Furnace’s hand covers mine. “Not this way, Son. We do this proper.”
“VP?” Blackie snaps.
“You’ve gone too far this time.” Furnace is shaking his head. “Party’s over, Brothers. Women out of here. Church. Now.”
“You can’t call church.” Blackie tries to bluster, his back straightening and his face looking like thunder. “You’re not the prez.”
Furnace stares at him, then says loudly. “Raping a girl? Taking a claimed woman from a brother? You don’t deserve your place at the head of the table. Anyone here got a problem with that?”
Apparently nobody has. The murmuring is full of cries of derision for what Blackie has done. No voices of support. Men have enough sex to take when it’s offered, seems they’re not happy with someone being forced.
Blackie gets pushed into church, he continues protesting. I hang back, my hands quivering with anger, deciding I’ll shoot him on the way out.
Furnace beckons me. “What you doing standing here?”
“Fuckin’ prospects don’t attend church,” I remind him.
“Put your cut back on, Brother. And come with me.”
I do, unsure what Furnace is up to. Or why he called me Brother. Wanting only two things, to see my father take his last breath, and to go find Moira. Talk to her, comfort her. Fuck! He’s taken her from me, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to get her back. My own father fucking raped her. Would she ever want to even talk to me again?
I go into the normally forbidden territory, sitting in a chair Furnace brought in and placed at the end of the table. It puts me opposite my father who’s gone to his normal seat. The fucker’s still grinning, doesn’t seem worried at all.
In fact, he starts the meeting off. “I want to know why a prospect is sitting at the table. Boy’s got no right to be here.”
Furnace isn’t the slightest bit cowed. “He’s been here long enough. Proved himself. I vote him in.”
Before Blackie can protest further, the votes gone around the table. Everyone but my father says ‘aye’. All throw looks of support toward me, sympathy too. Looks of disgust go in the opposite direction.
“Brotherhood,” Furnace starts, “is what we’re all about, Brothers. And brotherhood means looking out for everyone else, having each other’s backs. It doesn’t include the right to a man’s woman, whether prospect or patched member. Anyone disagree?”
“Too right, VP.” Comes from all directions.
“Fucking right. Can’t take another’s woman.” This powerful endorsement from Rusty.
“She wasn’t fucking willing. Anyone could see that.” Bomber sends me a look of apology, as if he’s wishing he could have done more. The problem is, even knowing my father could be a bastard, none of us thought him capable of that. Even I hadn’t realised how much he must hate me.
“Prospects can’t claim women.” Blackie protests.
“Whether or not, you raped her. Disrespected her. Disrespected your son. You can do that to your flesh and blood? Makes me wonder how the fuck any of us can trust you.”
“Got it in one, VP.” Bomber says it first, but others are quick to agree.
“I vote Blackie out.” Rusty says it plainly. “Ain’t no place for a man like him in this club.”
Blackie starts blustering, Furnace
shuts him up. “Nothing you can say, Brother. You can’t vote on this.”
The vote goes quickly around the table. Only seconds later it seems, Blackie’s out. As two members force him from his chair, and stand with him held tight between them, Furnace eyes his now empty seat. “Want to take a vote on a new prez now? Or give it some thought?” the VP asks.
“I vote Furnace.” Bomber hardly waits until the VP’s words are out of his mouth.
“Seconded.” Someone shouts quickly.
A full vote’s taken. Furnace looks like he’s just been passed a burden, but he’s quick to rise to the challenge. “First off, Carter’s now a full member. I’d say welcome to the table, Brother, but now’s not the right time. We’ll decide your handle later.”
I’m a member. Which gives me rights. No longer a prospect. I stare at my father. “I want him dead.”
“Dispatched to Satan? Well, Brothers. Our new patch has put that on the table. Anyone disagree?”
“He’s a loose cannon if we let him live. Out bad’s too good for him.” Bomber’s support surprises me. “Man thinks he can take what isn’t his.”
Another vote. This time I say ‘aye’ too, but all the time I’m watching my father’s face, seeing it go through a range of emotions as it dawns on him this is his last night on earth, finally settling on hatred directed toward me.
Furnace bangs the gavel loudly after pronouncing the death sentence. Then he catches my eye. “You were the brother wronged, Carter. You get a say in how he’s dispatched.”
It’s only then I realise how long I’ve hated him. I’d tried to be dutiful, done what was expected, followed him into his newly formed club at the time as a result of his plea to make up the numbers. It’s as if he’d been jealous of me all my short adult life. I was better looking, younger, faster, stronger. Everything he tried to belittle and put down.
The words come out before I’ve really had a chance to compose them. “We all know where he’ll end up. I want to cut his cock off so he won’t be able to rape anyone, even in hell.” My voice gets louder, stronger, as my father seems to diminish in front of my eyes. I could never, ever, forgive him for this. If he lived, every breath he took would remind me. “I want him to know what it’s like to burn before the fires of hell reach him. Burn his tat off. Do what you like to him after that, but let me take the final shot which kills him.”
“Rain hellfire down on him?” Furnace’s mouth quirks. “Reckon we might have found your road name. Hellfire.”
It was messy. It wasn’t quick. Blackie was begging for death long before I fired that bullet toward him. But no amount of suffering could make up for what he’d done to me. More importantly, what he’d taken from Moira.
Would I ever have another chance with her?
Chapter 7
Moira
Present day
It’s one of those evenings when it’s impossible to settle. Each time I get comfortable my body starts burning, sweat pouring off my brow. So I open the window, standing there for a moment, letting the freezing cold air cool me. Back on the couch, within minutes I’m too cold, so I’m getting up to close the window again. Fuck I hate this. My thermostat’s broken. Jeez. What a state to be in. It’s not long before I’m back to wiping my dripping face. No wonder Hell can’t stand to be near me.
What’s he doing now?
My mind tortures me with images of his still lean ass pounding in to a willing sweet butt. Any of them would go with him without giving a thought to me, his wife. One reason I no longer go to the compound. They’d let me know if they’d scored one over on me, a snide comment here, a knowing look there. I wouldn’t be able to bear it.
Thirty-six years we’ve been married. Lots to show for it. Not least my gorgeous kids. I stare at the photographs on the mantelpiece. There’s Demon, looking fine in his cut and leaning against his Harley. That was taken on a ride last year. The last time I remember being on Hellfire’s bike.
Then there’s Kennedy, my beautiful daughter. She got married a few months back, and I’m hoping there’ll be grandchildren in my near future. I admit to having breathed a sigh of relief when she finally settled down with a good man. Accountants don’t need to be boring, and at least, she has nothing to do with the club. I didn’t want that for my daughter.
Then there’s Samuel. My, but he was an afterthought. Didn’t think we were going to be lucky with another. There’s eight years between him and Kennedy, but it saved me having empty-nest syndrome too early. He’s at college, brains of the family went to him. He’s studying law—Hellfire suggested he concentrate on the criminal side. My lips curve as I recall the conversation. Samuel’s a good boy nowadays. Still relies a lot on his mom. Still getting us to bail him out when his student allowance doesn’t stretch to feeding him. He’ll learn. In time.
Does it upset me that the menopause signals no more babies for me? Nah, not at all. I’ve done my part to repopulate the world. And got three great kids to show for it.
I just hope Hellfire also appreciates how much he’s got, and doesn’t throw it away. If I know for certain he’s been unfaithful, I’ll file for divorce. Couldn’t live with this uneasy feeling inside of me. I’m not that woman who would turn a blind eye. There’d be ugly fights, uglier tears. Trying to work on a marriage that’s failed wouldn’t be worth it. That’s why I don’t want to know for sure. Want to hang on to these last few days, weeks, months when I’m in ignorance. The day he admits it, well, he’s not coming back.
How did it come to this?
We’d overcome the worst beginning a marriage could ever have. I’d always thought our relationship was unshakeable, that having survived what we had, nothing could come between us. We were it. For life.
His father had raped me. Had tricked me into his room under the pretext of showing me some old photographs. Said since we were going to be family, I ought to see them. He was the president of the club; how could I refuse? It’s only when he shut and locked the door behind me, I realised his intentions were something else entirely.
It might have been thirty-six years ago, but the memories still come back to haunt me, especially times like this when I’m feeling low. I’d turned and looked at him, seeing something positively evil in his eyes, summoning up the only defence I thought I had.
“I’m with Carter,” I say, firmly.
“You’re a bitch. You don’t care whose cock you ride. Came here with the hangarounds tonight, knew what you were asking for.”
My heart’s beating fast. How do I get out of this? “I’m with Carter.” I repeat, wondering why I allowed Jeannie to persuade me to accompany her tonight. I knew it was wrong. Carter had told me it was best I didn’t come to the club. Not until he patched in. “I’m sorry,” I try to tell him. “I shouldn’t have come here. I’ll just leave.”
It’s as if I hadn’t spoken. “Prospects can’t claim women. Asshole’s been lying if he told you other than that.” He walks closer, near enough I can smell his perspiration. My nose wrinkles, it’s unpleasant. “And why would you want a boy, when you can have a man? The president at that. Doesn’t get much better, sweetheart. Now why don’t you show me what you’ve got. Strip.”
I refuse. He won’t listen. I say no. He ignores it. I scream, the music from downstairs drowns my cries out. I fight him, of course I do. But he’s so much stronger, he easily overpowers me, laughing as he does and when each of my weak kicks misses its mark. Then he roughly takes what I’d preserved for so long, what I wanted to give to Carter.
I’d refused to see Carter. Hadn’t wanted anything to do with him ever again. My thoughts of him tainted by his father. My greatest fear was coming face to face with Blackie, him perhaps even wanting more. There could be no future between Carter and I. Family dinners? I couldn’t even imagine it. I was scared of Carter, was he like his father? Had I had a lucky escape? Would he have become fed up with waiting and forced me himself?
I was embarrassed too, not wanting my parents to know. I had gone to a not
orious biker club, where girls only go for one thing. Biker cock. In their eyes, I would have been asking for it. In most people’s eyes, I suspect.
Telling my folks only that I’d broken up with my boyfriend, they were sympathetic at least as far as to follow my instructions when answering the phone, telling him I wasn’t home, or that I didn’t want to speak to him. He came to the door, my father turned him away, and then shook his head at me. I’d been dating a biker. What did I expect?
One time I’d tortured myself, and had watched him ride away, noticing his cut no longer read Prospect, but instead had a full patch there. The patch he’d been after. Did he get that because he allowed his father to hurt me? Was that the price he had paid?
“You can’t keep yourself hidden away, Mo. It’s not healthy.”
I’m not sure if I’m glad Jeannie’s come to visit or not. That night she’d left her hook-up to come with me, taken me back to her place, looked after me. But the loss of my ‘cherry’, as she put it, didn’t seem such an earth-shattering event to her, while I was completely devastated.
Worse, she seems to have found a boyfriend, the biker she went with that night. She’s always at the clubhouse, and reporting back how much fun she’s having, while I just wish I could erase its existence from the earth.
She hasn’t seen Carter’s father around, and there seems to be a new president, but she knows no more than that. When I ask her, she heard nothing to suggest his disappearance is related to me. Bikers live a mysterious life, I’m told. They never divulge their business, even to those they take as old ladies.
“I’m not feeling well, Jeannie. Leave me be.”
“How, not well, Mo?” Where men are concerned she’s shallow, but she’s got a good heart underneath.
“I’m not sleeping. Every time I close my eyes…”
“Oh, hun.” She puts her arm around my shoulders. “You’ve got to snap out of it. There was always going to be a first time, wasn’t there? Now it’s over, you’ve got to move on.”
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