by Claire Adams
“Devon said you work at a receptionist in some company downtown,” I said, glancing at her.
Mila pushed back the hair from her eyes. “I did.”
“You quit?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Walter knew where I worked,” I said. “I wasn’t going to risk going back there.”
“So that’s your plan?” I asked. “You’re just going to change your whole life because of one asshole?”
“One asshole?” Mila repeated. “He’s not just an asshole… he’s a fucking psychopath. That note was written in blood.”
“I’m aware.”
“Then why are you so fucking calm?” she demanded, as if my calm was offending her in some way.
“When you see enough of this shit… it loses its ability to scare you.”
Mila dropped her expression of anger, and once she did, I noticed that it had just been a mask for her fear. “I’ve heard stories,” she said, in a quiet voice. “I’ve heard the men talking and…”
“Yeah?”
“Is it true your father was murdered?”
“It’s true.”
“Devon told me that he died in a turf war and you lost five men.”
I stayed silent, and my silence was her answer. “Were you there?” she asked.
“I was there,” I nodded.
“What do the police do?” she asked. “Don’t they get involved?”
“Usually they do,” I said. “But this is a small town, and the gangs here are powerful. Plus… half the cops here are bought men.”
“What?” Mila said, as her head snapped up.
“The cops,” I said. “Godwin has a couple of ‘friends’ at the station. They protect him, look the other way, and give him information… they do whatever needs to be done.”
“Why?”
I smirked. “Politics… corruption… power… these are all old stories. Why are you surprised by them?”
“This is not the world I’m used to,” Mila said. “This life is alien to me. I don’t know how you live it. I don’t know why my brother chose it.”
She looked around her room as though she couldn’t understand why she was there in the first place. She looked lost for a moment, and there was an element of hopelessness in her eyes. Her blue eyes were sharp but unfocused, and her mouth was turned down in uncertainty.
“There’s beauty in this life,” I said. “You just have to open your mind up long enough to see it.”
“See it?” Mila repeated, standing up and walking in front of me. “All I see is violence, death, and power plays between men with big egos. There’s nothing real here.”
I gritted my teeth and pulled myself upright. I took a step towards her so that we were only inches apart. She looked uncomfortable with my close proximity, but to her credit, she didn’t back away from me. I could feel more than I bargained for, however. That kiss we had shared the night Mila had moved in stood between us like a third person. I wanted to grab her right now, but I resisted the urge and buried the desire.
“Nothing real?” I asked.
“Nothing that I can see.”
“Then maybe you need to look closer,” I said. “Your brother came to me and pleaded with me to allow you to stay here. You are protected because of this club. You are safe because of this club.”
“But for how long?”
“This isn’t just about giving you a place to stay for the moment,” I said. “This is about giving you the tools you’ll need to get through the rest of your life.”
Mila frowned. “And how are you planning on doing that?” she asked.
“Simple,” I replied.
Then I swung my hand up towards Mila’s face as though I were going to hit her. She gasped and backed away from me, shielding her face with her hands. Then she straightened up when she realized I hadn’t actually intended on making physical contact.
“After I’m done with you, you’re going to know how to block a hit like that,” I said. “You won’t be running from a fight. You’ll be running towards it.”
“What if I don’t want to fight at all?” Mila asked.
I shook my head at her. “Life is a constant fight. It may not have to be physical. It may not have to be violent, but trust me, it’s a fight. So you better have some moves because otherwise, you’re going to cowering in the corner waiting for other people to come rescue you… every time.”
Mila looked at me carefully, and I wondered if I saw some grudging respect in her eyes. She took two steps towards me, and her eyes fell to the tattoos on my neck and arms. She raised her hands and traced the words ‘Fallen Angels’ that I had got tattooed on my right arm a few years ago.
Her fingers left a trail of heat behind them, and I could sense the chemistry building up between us. When Mila glanced up at me, I saw that she felt the same chemistry too. It was in her eyes.
“Ok,” she said, her fingers still on my arm. “Teach me.”
Chapter Six
Mila
I woke up to the hazy memory of a faded dream. In the dream, I had been running from a huge black wolf. At first, I seemed to be getting away from the beast, but my legs kept getting heavier and heavier until I was frozen in place with the wolf fast approaching. He was just about to gobble me whole when I realized that I was in a different place altogether and the wolf had disappeared.
I looked around, and it took me a moment before I recognized the broken shingles, faded paint, and rusty door from the house I had grown up in. Everything looked the same, but nothing felt the same. I walked up to the house and looked at it, hoping to find some connection, some tiny iota of sentimentality. But all I had was a sinking feeling of doom.
A woman walked out of the front door and looked at me like I was a stranger. She was not wrong. I was a stranger to her. Giving birth to someone doesn’t necessarily mean you know that person. A shadow moved past her suddenly, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. That same feeling of doom was upon me, and this time, it was imminent. Before the shadow could step into the light, my fear woke me up.
I sat up in bed and realized that I wasn’t back home at all. I was in my half-brother’s motorcycle clubhouse surrounded by a bunch of unfamiliar men who were forced to protect me because their president had a point to prove. I still didn’t know what that point was, but I had a feeling I was about to.
I dressed quickly and went downstairs. I was early, but I didn’t care. I figured it would take me a while to get my bearings, and I didn’t want to give Zack any more reasons to criticize me. I had been living in the clubhouse for four days now, and I still couldn’t figure him out.
Was he the strong and no-nonsense leader? Was he a renegade outlaw with a shady past? Was he a complicated person with a checkered conscience? Or was he just a broken man trying to cover up his flaws? I had no idea. There were moments when he looked at me when I felt something stir deep inside my soul. There were other moments when he made my stomach turn with disgust. The only thing that was consistent, however, was the knowledge that I was deeply and intrinsically attracted to him. And that told me that I needed to stay as far away from him as possible.
After that first night when we had shared that explosively passionate kiss, there had been no physical contact between us. We had come close a couple of times, but we had managed to maintain the somewhat grey boundaries.
I knew he wanted me. That was evident from the way his eyes traveled over my body as though he wanted to devour me whole. But I had heard the men talk, and even without talk, there could be no denying that Zack was not the kind of man who liked to keep a woman around for any length of time. Not that I wanted to stick around… but I also didn’t want to put myself in the same position I had gotten into with Walter. I didn’t believe Zack would hurt me like that… but I also wasn’t willing to rule out the possibility either. After all, he was just another stranger to me.
I found Devon downstairs with Bones. Bones gave me a nod and then walked out to s
ee to his motorcycle. Devon hung back and followed me into the kitchen.
“Zack told me he was going to be training you from today onwards,” he said.
“That’s right,” I nodded. “I was against it at first, but I’ve changed my mind.”
Devon didn’t offer an opinion on my change of heart. Instead, he nodded once and turned to leave.
“Devon?” I said, calling out after him.
He stopped at the door and turned his face in my direction.
“What was Dad like?” I asked.
Devon raised his eyebrows. “I don’t know why I would know more than you.”
“You would actually,” I said. “Every time Dad visited me, he talked about you.”
Devon seemed surprised by that. “He did?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I nodded. “I think he was always disappointed I wasn’t a boy. He just spent a lot of time telling me what we could be doing if I had been born a boy.”
Devon snorted in derisive laughter and shook his head. “Trust me, it wouldn’t have made a fucking difference. Dad was a shitty father whether you were a boy or a girl.”
“But you knew him better than I did—”
“Then you’re the luckier one,” Devon said. “He was a loser. He could never hold a job. He would come and visit me just so that he could swindle me out of whatever I had earned that month.”
“Still beats having a drug addict for a mother,” I said. “Loser actually sounds pretty nice in comparison.”
Devon took a few steps towards me. We never really spoke about our mothers. We never really spoke about anything too deep with one another. Our relationship had always been surface deep, and neither one of us had ever tried for more. The realization that Devon was the only family member who had really ever made an attempt to help me made me want to make more of an effort with him.
“How often did she use?” Devon asked.
“Almost every day,” I replied. “She smoked pot a lot, which was manageable. Heroin and cocaine were the nightmare drugs though. She hated to get high alone, so we always had visitors.”
“Men?”
“Mostly,” I nodded.
“Did—”
“Mila!” Red popped his head into the kitchen. “Did you forget about training?”
“Fuck,” I swore, jumping to my feet.
“You better hurry,” Devon said.
I ran behind Red in the direction of the garage. “The garage?” I asked curiously.
“There’s a back addition,” Red told me. “It’s been expanded over the years. It’s actually pretty big now. We all train in there now.”
Red led me through the garage to a door in the back that opened out into a large open space complete with a boxing ring and punching bags.
“Whoa,” I said, already intimidated by the sight.
“You’re late.”
I looked to my right to find Zack standing there in long black sweats and nothing else. For a moment, everything else faded away, and all I could do was admire the perfection of his body. His tattoos weren’t just on his neck and arms. They covered his chest too. There was not an inch of fat on him. He was all hard muscle. His stomach was just a wall of abs that looked like they had been carved out of rock. He approached me slowly, and I felt my breath catch for a moment before I reminded myself that he was completely wrong for me.
“Sorry,” I stammered. “I was… I had… busy.”
“You were busy?” Zack asked. “Doing what?”
“Never mind,” I said quickly, looking away from his body. “I’m here now. Let’s get started.”
I walked towards the ring where I assumed we would begin training, but Zack put a hand on my shoulder and stopped me.
“Not yet,” he said. “First, put these boxing gloves on.”
I could sense all the men there watching me, but I refused to be cowed by that. I pretended as though I were alone and donned the boxing gloves that felt like they were a little too big for me. I hated to admit it, but having Zack standing in front of me shirtless was incredibly distracting. I kept thinking about that kiss we had shared, and I wondered if he thought about it too.
“Now what?” I asked once the gloves were on.
“Now… you punch me.”
I smiled. “If you had told me that, I would have insisted you train me sooner.”
Zack smiled back. “Oh, you’re not going to be able to punch me… not even close. But it’s going to be fun to watch you try.”
I took a deep breath and swung at him. He dodged it easily and chuckled to himself. “You call that a punch?”
“I’m a better kicker,” I said, through gritted teeth as my preoccupation with his looks faded to annoyance. “How about I kick you in the nuts and show you?”
“I like the confidence,” Zack said. “It’s misguided… but impressive.”
I tried to swing at him again, and he blocked me with his arm and pushed me back. I stumbled and nearly lost my footing, but I managed to catch myself just in time. I heard snickers coming from the group of men who were going about their business around us, but I tried to block them out and focus on Zack. Except that each time I got my ass handed to me by Zack’s superior skill, their laughter seemed to be getting louder and louder.
“What the hell are you assholes laughing at?” I shouted finally, unable to take the ridicule.
“What makes you think they’re laughing at you?” Zack asked calmly.
“Who else would they be laughing at?” I demanded. “I suck at this.”
“No argument there,” Zack said. “But their laughter can’t hurt you.”
I gritted my teeth together. “What do you know about being laughed at?”
“Everything,” Zack shot back at me. “You think I got here easy? I was pushed around and ridiculed. I was treated like shit. And my father was the ringleader of it all. He stood there with everybody, and he laughed the loudest. You know why?”
“He hated you.”
Zack ignored me. “He wanted to make me strong.”
“I’m not like you,” I said.
“No… but you will be,” Zack said, as he aimed another punch at my jaw.
I dropped to the ground and backed away from him. “I can’t,” I said, feeling a sob at the back of my throat. “This is… I have no idea what I’m doing… it’s too hard.”
“And you expect it to come easy?”
“How do you even expect me to beat you?” I demanded. “You’re more than a head taller, and you’re double my size.”
“Exactly.”
“What?”
“Those things can be strengths, true,” Zack nodded. “But if you’re smart, they can also be used as weaknesses. Size and strength are limiting when you need to be agile and fast. Play to your strengths. Use what you have against your opponent. Now get up.”
I gritted my teeth with determination and stood up, dusting off my sweats.
“Punch me.”
I tried again, and again it was like Zack was swatting away a fly. I sighed in frustration and made another attempt. Again, he sidestepped the punch and hit me in the back. I almost rammed into one of the punching bags.
“There is strength in breathing,” Zack told me. “Don’t hold your breath when you punch. The more you breathe, the stronger your punch will be.”
We kept up the pace for almost two hours. I wanted to quit a hundred different times during those two hours, but I forced myself to stay the course. I didn’t want Zack to think I was any weaker than I had already shown him. More importantly, I wanted his respect, and that made me realize that he had mine.
“Drink some water,” Zack said, throwing me a bottle.
His body was glistening with a light sheen of perspiration, whereas I was dripping with sweat. Zack didn’t even seem to notice, however. It was almost mid-day, and the gym space had cleared out completely. We were the only two left. Even though my stomach was complaining, Zack seemed oblivious to such human things as hunger. He walked
me over to the ring, and once we were inside, he turned to me.
“I’m going to come at you,” he said. “Try and escape… got it?”
“Ok,” I nodded, knowing already that he would have me on the ground in two seconds flat.
Two seconds later, I was on the ground, struggling to get away from his grip. Zack straddled me as he kept my hands pinned to the floor on either side of my head.
“Didn’t I tell you I would have you on your back sooner or later?” Zack told me, with a smile on his face.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “When I’m done training… no one will ever have the power to keep me on my back against my will ever again,” I said fiercely.
I saw a spark in Zack’s eyes as he looked down at me. “I’m counting on it.”
Chapter Seven
Zack
“Well?” I asked, the moment Bones, Red, and Devon walked in.
“Nothing,” Devon replied. “Radio silence.”
I pursed my lips. “It means something.”
“It means the guy’s run off scared,” Red said with a smile that betrayed his immaturity.
“You don’t write a threatening letter in blood only to run off scared the next moment,” Devon said in the same mindset I was in.
“What if he only found out that Mila was connected to the Fallen Angels after he wrote the note?” Red suggested, almost hopefully.
“He didn’t,” Mila said, entering the living room. I noticed she was limping a little. I glanced down at her left ankle, and though the swelling had gone down a little, there was a noticeable bruise. The men turned to her as she sat down on one of the chairs opposite me. “He knew I had a brother in the Fallen Angels while we were… together.”
“Did you talk about Devon much?” I asked, leaning in. “While you were with the fucker?”
“Some,” Mila shrugged. “He seemed interested.”
“In me?” Devon asked, and his tone suggested suspicion.
“In you,” Mila nodded. “In the whole concept of a motorcycle club. He wanted to know how you did things here.”
“And what did you tell him?” I asked.