BIKER DADDY: The Chain Gang MC

by St. Rose, Claire

  Zoya covered her blushing face. “I’m going to need better friends,” she joked.

  ***

  Saturday morning, bright and early, Zoya hopped in her car and headed across town to the house of Musa and Taba Rao. She was ready to do battle. After laying out the ultimatum to Miad, she had avoided coming home on Saturdays, but she couldn’t put it off much longer. There wasn’t much likelihood Miad had kept mum, and as she climbed out of her car with a grim, resolute sigh, she wondered how much trouble she would be into when she walked inside.

  “Ah! Zoya!” Musa opened the door to his lovely only daughter and drew her inside. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever! You’ve been too busy for us, little girl.” He flashed a mock stern expression like he had a habit of doing when she was a small child and up to something mischievous but not too terrible.

  Zoya flew into her father’s arms, discovering she had missed him. He hugged her tight. “Hello, Baba. You know I’d never get too busy for you. Where’s Maman?”

  “Cleaning, cooking, the usual things. Sit, sit. How are your studies? You know I said to you before that you might be taking on too heavy of a course load. I’m hoping you’re almost done with this.”

  “You say me that every time, Baba.” Zoya grinned, realizing from the sign of things that Miad hadn’t said a word. She plopped down on the couch and put her feet up. Her father launched into a recounting of his week with questions about hers, and she listened and answered drowsily. She was tired from a night of working on school work and watching reruns. In the end, she had opted not to invite Micah over while Callie. She wasn’t sure who would be watching her place.

  “Javid asked after you,” Taba said brightly. “Zoya, come help me in the kitchen, would you?”

  Zoya pushed up from her comfortable seat and ambled into the kitchen to help her mother cook. It was the only time of the week the entire immediate family sat down to eat together, and Taba put a lot of love and energy into making sure Saturday meals were veritable feasts. The menu was usually traditional Iranian food, the makings of which spread out on the counter. There were also pots simmering on the stove and in the oven.

  The savory smell of meat cooking and the sugary sweetness of desserts baking made her stomach rumble in pleasure. “You’re outdoing yourself,” she murmured, smiling. Zoya stuck a finger in batter and tasted.

  Taba swatted her away. “I’m thinking you should have some good news for me. Javid says he has kept in contact with you, right?”

  Zoya hid a frown. The suitor her parents had picked out for her was in his residency at Memorial Lake Hospital, and he had kept in touch with daily emails and occasional text messages, but Zoya hadn’t really paid him much mind. She simply wasn’t interested. “What sort of good news are you thinking I should have for you, Maman?” she asked. She pulled her mother into a hug and looked her in the face. “Maman, I’m not marrying him,” she said soberly. “There’s nothing about him that appeals to me.”

  Taba sighed and swatted her away. “Ach!” she said with frustration. “No one ever appeals to you. I guess you’ll marry your books and your degrees then. I’ll be a grandchildless woman, I guess. You don’t love me enough to please your poor, dear, old Maman. Is that it?” She grumbled, stirring a pot, and Zoya giggled.

  “You know that isn’t it. I love you with all my heart. I just don’t care for the men you choose.”

  “Is there someone else?” Taba asked with interest.

  Zoya hesitated. It was on the tip of her tongue to say that there was, but how did she explain Micah to her mother? “Not really,” she hedged.

  Taba looked up from the pot, eyes like a hawk. “Not really or no? You haven’t gotten mixed up with the wrong kind, have you?” She shook her cooking spoon at Zoya, and her daughter quickly denied.

  “Of course not, maman.”

  “I worry about you living on campus with that strange girl. Don’t let her ways rub off on you. You should come back home and live with us like your brother.”

  Zoya broached the subject, eyes on her manicure. She picked at a nail. “How has Miad been doing with the job search?”

  Her mother’s expression went from placid to a soft scowl. Taba shrugged noncommittally. “Work comes and goes. He’ll be working again soon. It was a misunderstanding with your cousin is all. The money will come up someday, and we’ll all laugh about it. Get the plates, daughter. Set the table for me.”

  Zoya sighed and made herself busy, thinking her parents were deluding themselves. She couldn’t see how they could walk around with blinders all day. There was no job search. Miad spent his nights drinking and his days recovering—if he wasn’t gambling or swindling someone else out of their money. Zoya reached into an overhanging cabinet and pulled down dinnerware. Over her shoulder she asked, “Has any other money come up missing?”

  From behind her came Miad’s unmistakable voice. “So nice of you to join us this weekend, Zoya. With your busy schedule, it’s amazing you make it home each week. How is school? Any new friends?”

  She turned to him, catching the malicious glint in his eyes. Miad had an apple in his hand and a smile on his handsome face, but the smile was brittle and cold. He tossed up the apple and caught it, biting into it with a loud crunch and smack of his sensual mouth. He winked at Zoya. “No new boyfriends?” he goaded.

  “Hush that nonsense, Miad. Your sister is a good girl,” her mother murmured. “Are you hungry, son?”

  Miad shook his head and ambled out of the kitchen. Zoya breathed a discreet sigh of relief. She had caught the threat. He didn’t want her mentioning anything about money or his drinking problem to her parents. Zoya reluctantly decided not to pry any more into the situation. She had her own skeletons in her closet. No sense in trying to dig into his.

  At dinner, the family shared pleasant conversation that ranged from her father’s work as a chemist to gossip amongst Taba and her friends. Zoya said little and ate well, watching her brother closely. She noticed he had taken to sipping from the flask instead of his wineglass. She didn’t think her parents noticed though. Miad caught her staring and mentioned in an offhand way, “Zoya, you should be thankful you’re not like these American women you try to emulate. They’re sex objects. If you don’t be careful, someone will use you up just like they use them.”

  “Such foul language at dinner,” Musa reprimanded, pounding the table. He pointed a warning finger at Miad, but her brother simply chuckled and shook his head.

  “I was joking, Baba. Zoya knows I’m joking. Eh?”

  Zoya slumped down in her chair and continued to eat.

  “Eating for two?” Miad teased softly.

  Taba caught his eye and looked pointedly at Zoya. “What’s gotten into you, Miad? Zoya, don’t be a glutton.”

  She put down her fork with a sigh and pushed back from the table. “I need to go. I have some assignments to finish at home. It’s getting late.”

  “Don’t get lost along the way,” Taba replied, glancing over at Miad.

  Zoya adjusted her hijab. “Now, why would I do that, Maman? Like you said…” She stared at Miad to drive the point home. “I’m a good girl. Goodbye, Maman, Baba.”

  She darted out of the door, the sound of Miad laughing out loud chasing her. He was a cad and a coward. She hopped into her car, angrily slamming the car door and jamming her key into the ignition. She knew what Miad was trying to do. With his belittling and degrading comments, he would raise their parents’ suspicions, even if he didn’t confess her secret outright.

  Zoya gunned the engine and hurried home to her apartment, away from her older brother’s manipulation and schemes. She was furious at Miad. Something had to be done about him. She just had to figure out what to do.

  CHAPTER 15 “Your brother is unstable, Zoya,” he countered over the phone. “Are you entirely certain you want to play this game with him? If everything you’ve told me about him is correct, which I have no doubt it is, then instead of getting caught up in his game, you
should end this.”

  “Miad thinks he can intimidate me with these tactics, but he can’t.”

  “Tell them, Zoya.” He dropped his head in his hand and massaged the bridge of his nose. “I’ll go with you. We can sit them down and talk to them together.”

  “This is another one of those situations that I have to—“

  “Handle alone,” he sighed. “I know. I’m just…I don’t want to put you in a situation where you might get hurt, physically or emotionally. Miad dropping hints like that will not only make your parents doubt you…it might turn them against you entirely. I grew up without a two-parent supportive household, babe. I know how important having your parents there for you can be.”

  “You said you were ready to face the hardship.”

  He pushed back from his desk, the model engine he had been working on forgotten as he paced the spacious home office with one hand in his pocket. His bare feet coasted over the plush beige carpet, and he walked around a squat leather ottoman to sit on the couch. He lounged back against the thick cushion.

  When he had gotten the late evening call from Zoya, he had been anticipating hearing her voice because the last time they had spoken she had been a little distressed about going home since Miad knew they were dating again. He had hoped she would call back with good news. Finding out her malicious older brother was tormenting her put him on edge. Micah was much more used to fighting his own battles versus standing behind and waiting for someone else to speak for him. He could understand Zoya feeling like she knew her family better and how to respond to their reactions, but it was crippling to feel so out of touch with what was going on, especially when the key to his happiness depended on things going well.

  “I want to be with you, Zoya. I will put myself on the frontline. I’ll go through the obstacles, but that’s not what you’re asking me to do. You want me to sit back and let you handle this, and frankly I feel like my hands are tied. Just tell me what you want me to do.”

  Her voice softened and sounded vulnerable. “Whatever happens…just be there for me.”

  He glanced out the glass doors that looked over the backyard, where his Victory Cross Roads was parked. “I’ll be there for you. You know that. Do you want me to come get you tonight? I’m free. The gang took a ride without me.” The Hangman’s Crows had gone out to an illegal race, but Micah had held back, citing work that needed to be finished. The truth was he was waiting to hear from Zoya.

  He pushed down his regret at making the team stand alone because he knew, with or without him, they were fine out there. He wondered how much money they were winning. Chop was probably being a showoff. He had a new bike some fool girl had gotten him for his twenty-third birthday. Micah looked at the kid like a little brother, and he should’ve been there making sure he didn’t break his neck. Again, Micah sighed and dragged his attention back to the conversation at hand.

  “I think it’s best if you don’t come over tonight. I told my parents I had to get home to work on something for class. It was a lie, but if Miad decides to pass by the apartment complex, I don’t want him seeing your bike parked out front.”

  Micah nodded. “I guess that’s for the best.”

  They drifted into a conversation about the project he was working on and about the gang, but Micah wasn’t in much of a mood to talk. He had a lot on his mind, namely what he should do about his relationship with Zoya. If things didn’t lighten up between her and her brother soon, he felt he would have to make the decision to let her go. As much as it would hurt him, he couldn’t stand by and watch her family turn away from her on his account.

  There was always the motorcycle club for him to call kin. Who would Zoya have without her mom and dad?

  ***

  They sat in a park on a sunny Wednesday afternoon, finally alone after weeks of taking things slowly, and Zoya suddenly couldn’t figure out why she had insisted on the separation in the first place. The sun overhead was bright and white hot over the verdant greenery of the garden-like landscape. The stone bench where Zoya and Micah were sharing a soft-spoken conversation was across from a still, deep pond, and long-necked swans swam sedately by as they talked.

  A winding path curved past them with joggers and dog walkers going about their normal evening routine. Micah slipped a grape into Zoya’s mouth and smiled at her, touching the tip of her pert little nose. “I’m glad we decided to meet here,” he said.

  “I am, too. I’ve missed you a lot.”

  “I had some stuff to take care of with the gang the past two weekends, and I’ve been busy at work this the week. It’s a wonder I have any time at all to talk in the evenings, but I made time today.”

  “The only thing on my agenda is school, school, and more school. I can’t wait for the summer semester to be over. I took it on thinking I’d get closer to finishing up. Well, it got me closer, but I’m exhausted.” Zoya lolled her head back, massaging her neck. Micah watched her face, thinking she was beautiful. It made it harder to resist her, to stick to his resolve.

  Over the weeks apart, ever since they had made a decision to get back together, Micah had been thinking. He wanted to be with Zoya, but he also wanted to protect her, and it was difficult knowing his role in her life caused her so much pain. The situation with her brother wasn’t under control. Zoya had confided to Micah the minor blackmail she was using to keep Miad out of her business, but Micah had a feeling things would soon come to a head.

  He knew he wanted his relationship to stand, and he knew her parents would likely want it to dissolve. The least he could do, though, was keep Zoya in an honorable position. Micah had made the decision not to sleep with her again. If their connection could stand that test, it could stand anything. And, if the relationship didn’t work out…well, then at least she would retain some of her innocence.

  “To tell you the truth, I’ve kind of been avoiding you,” he confessed sheepishly.

  Zoya pulled back, surprised. “Why have you been avoiding me?” A shaggy terrier raced past them, yapping loudly at a boy playing with a ball in the grass. Zoya’s attention was momentarily arrested by its passing, but when she turned back to Micah, he was staring at her intently. His elbow was rested on the back of the park bench, and he wore a half smile.

  “For the same reason people on diets avoid their favorite restaurants. You’re too much of a temptation. Every time I see you, Zoya, I feel a rush. It’s like a drug. They always say that about love and desire—that it’s addicting. But, I mean more like a dangerous high, and I want more and more of you. I’m not trying to have merely a physical relationship with you. So, I’m trying to avoid sleeping with you. There are deeper ways to connect. Easier said than done, but possible.”

  Zoya tilted her head to the side, considering. There certainly were deeper ways to connect. It was pleasant talking on the phone deep into the night like teenagers, like they’d never run out of things to say to each other. She could picture more dates like the current one, too. It would be lovely to go out, have dinner, see a movie, and hold hands. Intimacy wasn’t about intercourse. It was about meaningful sharing. She liked the sound of his proposition.

  “Are you telling me that you’re still willing to be with me even if there’s no sex involved?” Zoya asked skeptically. “That’s not very American of you.” She giggled, not fully believing him.

  Micah laughed and said, “Why isn’t it? This place is all about individualism. Just because the majority is into something doesn’t mean everybody is or everybody should be. I don’t run with a crowd, sweetheart. I’m telling you I want to be with you, regardless of whether we’re sleeping together. The thing that bothers me about this problem with your parents is I understand they’re just looking out for your best interests.”

  She tucked her hand into his, staring off at the lake, the swans, and the landscape. There were colorful flowers, some of them desert blossoms. The local climate got hot enough for them. She contemplated Micah’s response. “I know that’s what they’re trying to
do. I can also see how to people like you and Callie it would seem like they’re trying to control me.”

  “A lot of relationships spring up out of lust. Most parents want to make sure their kids never get hurt, never get heartbroken, and never know sorrow. Culture aside, that’s what your mom and pop are trying to do for you by ensuring you make a connection with someone based off of something more tangible than that tingly feeling you get when you desire someone, and that’s understandable. That said, I want to make sure this is the real deal, too. I’m breaking a lot of my own rules here. I don’t usually do serious relationships.”

  Micah’s lips were curved in a half-smile. It was a bit of an understatement. He didn’t do serious relationships period. Micah had gotten accustomed to keeping around a nice, regular lay but nothing with strings attached. The minute he had met Zoya, everything had changed for him. Suddenly, he could see himself enjoying her company long term. Even when they had broken up for two weeks, he hadn’t moved on to easier conquests. He had thrown himself into racing and his motorcycle club, but not into another woman’s bed. In his mind, that said a lot about Zoya. Any woman who could keep his attention like that was a keeper.