BIKER DADDY: The Chain Gang MC

by St. Rose, Claire

  Callie frowned at the champagne and tossed it back anyway. “Oh, well, cheers to all being well that ends well.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” Zoya giggled. She took a small sip and set the champagne aside. It was Wednesday evening. That meant she had a mere two days to go before her routine visit home on Saturday for dinner with her family. Unlike the last time Zoya had tried to get up the nerve to have this talk, she didn’t plan on preparing a speech. She would speak from her heart. She would tell them she’d met the most amazing man, and she was going to be his wife. What was the worst that could happen?

  Her cellphone rang as she was taking a drink, and Zoya reached for it excitedly, thinking it was Micah. When she saw her brother’s contact information flash across the screen, her enthusiasm died. Rolling her eyes, Zoya answered. “What do you want, Miad?”

  “I thought we had an agreement, sister. You keep my secret, and I keep yours. Why’d you tell Maman all that stuff about me?”

  Callie glanced at Zoya, noting her worried expression. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  Zoya covered the receiver with her hand and whispered, “Miad’s upset because I talked to Maman.”

  Callie smirked. “Screw him. He deserved it.”

  Zoya chewed on her bottom lip anxiously. She responded to Miad. “I did it because you were missing. I had no choice. Maman and Baba had no idea where you’d been for three days. Can you imagine what your lifestyle is putting them through, Miad?”

  “I can imagine what hell they’ll go through if they find out about you and Micah. Can you imagine that?”

  “Miad, enough!”

  “Listen to me, harlot,” he spat. “I had a heart to heart with Javid, and he’s willing to ignore your dismissal of his courtship if you consent to marry him and announce the engagement before the end of next week. Now, I’m fixing this to where you won’t get in any trouble with Maman or Baba. They’ll be so ecstatic about you choosing a proper mate that they’ll look past any of your other transgressions.”

  Zoya sighed, shaking her head with an unamused smile. “You didn’t have to do that, Miad. I’ll be talking to Maman and Baba myself about the situation with Micah. They’ll have to accept that he’s the man I choose to be with, so I don’t even know why you went through all the trouble of hunting down Javid and making false pacts. I wouldn’t marry Javid for all his money.”

  “Zoya, yield!”

  She gasped. “You lack the authority, Miad. With each passing day, I lose respect for you. You have changed, brother. You’re not the man I knew and loved. What happened to you?”

  “I’m trying to save your reputation, Zoya. Sentiments aside, be reasonable. Do you think that infidel will do the honorable thing and marry you? He knows no honor. For him to marry you would even defile you.”

  Zoya hung up the phone as her anger started to grow. Callie grabbed Zoya’s glass of champagne and shoved it back into her stiff fingers. Raising her own glass, she said, “You sure told him.”

  All Zoya could do was keep her lips in a straight, firm line to keep from screaming out her frustration. Miad’s words reflected exactly how her parents would likely feel about Micah Whitfield. For him to marry her would even defile her. She rose from the sofa without another word, putting aside the champagne glass, and stoically walked to her bedroom. When Callie followed after her and tapped at the closed and locked door, Zoya didn’t respond.

  “Are you okay?” Callie asked softly. She gave up knocking and left her friend alone with her thoughts.

  Zoya wondered if her parents would ever understand. She had once believed as they did that to marry someone outside of her religion would be a misalignment. After meeting Micah, she knew intrinsically that all other matches would be off the mark. He was made for her, and she was made for him. But, as long as her family believed the things they believed, they would never accept her relationship.

  What was the worst that could happen? She could lose them all. Not just Miad, but Maman and Baba, too. She stared down at the diamond encrusted engagement band on her ring finger. Could she sacrifice her relationship with her family to be with Micah Whitfield?

  CHAPTER 23 Taba passed behind Miad again, and she smelled the alcohol plainly. He wasn’t even wearing any cologne to mask the odor. She shook her head and hurried away, feather duster in hand, to grab the vacuum and set about cleaning the already clean living room. Musa was sitting in his favorite chair having a conversation with Zoya, who sat at his feet, about what she planned to do with her degree upon graduation. Miad was sprawled out on the couch watching television while Taba busied herself throughout the room. As she worked, she watched them all. It was her job to watch.

  She saw how Zoya shot surreptitious glances in Miad’s direction. Taba had noticed her daughter’s unusual nervousness and guarded responses upon her arrival. The girl made it obvious enough she was phishing when she pulled Taba aside and asked pointed questions about Miad’s health and any conversations they might have had regarding his alcoholism. Her concern might have seemed sincere—had she not asked twice, “Did he tell you anything else?”

  Yes, Miad was hiding something, and it wasn’t just his drinking. He was hiding something on Zoya’s behalf, and Taba intended to find out. She hummed to herself as she pushed the vacuum cleaner across the carpet, idly insinuating herself into the scene. Musa glared at her for the noise, but Taba pretended not to see the look. She hummed louder. When she was sure she had their attention, she powered off the machine. She beamed at her family and replied, “I just love it when we all get together like this. It’s the highlight of my week. What’s that new cologne you’re wearing, Miad?”

  “I’m not wearing any cologne, Maman,” he said sullenly. He had been sulking since she’d taken away the credit card. She had started noticing small items of value disappearing around the house in the past week. He was definitely drinking and gambling again.

  “Forgive me. Must be my nose,” she muttered. “And, you, Zoya.”

  “Yes, Maman?”

  “Come help your mother cook for the menfolk, eh?”

  “Yes, Maman.” Zoya rose from the sofa and followed her mother in the kitchen, suspicious of Taba’s suddenly bright tone after her mother had been scowling all afternoon. “You want to speak with me?” she broached.

  Taba turned away from the stove and pierced Zoya with shrewd eyes. “What’s going on between you and Miad?”

  Zoya looked down. “He’s angry at me for telling you about his drinking.”

  Taba rapped the countertop to draw Zoya’s gaze back to her. “Is that all?” she asked. Zoya hesitated. She opened her mouth to talk about Micah, but the words wouldn’t come out. She saw the look on her mother’s face, a look that begged for no more bad news. Zoya nodded mutely. Taba turned back to the stove. “I’m telling Musa about his drinking,” Taba replied.

  Zoya rushed across the room and confronted her mother. “Maman, no! That will only make Miad more upset. You said you would handle it. I asked you to try rehab if your solutions didn’t work.”

  “Yes, I took away my credit card, but it wasn’t enough. He reeks of alcohol right now as we speak. I’m telling Musa. Only he can get Miad to act right. That’s final.”

  Zoya pleaded, “Please, don’t. You don’t understand how Miad can be. You remember the sweet boy, the loving teenager. You don’t know the man he is becoming. He gets angry and destructive and vindictive, and he’ll turn that rage against me!”

  “What can he do to you, Zoya? What can he say against you?” Taba probed.

  Zoya shut her mouth, shaking her head. Taba felt she had her answer. She was right. Miad was hiding some information about Zoya, and there was only one way to find out what it was. She marched back into the living room to face her husband. Putting one hand on her hip, she pointed at Miad. “He’s drinking again, Musa. Smell him.”

  “What?” Musa tugged off his reading glasses and set aside the paper he had been reading. His eyes darted from Taba’s angry face to
Miad’s startled expression. Behind Taba, Zoya looked ready to cry. “What are you talking about, woman?”

  Taba paced the living room. “It was Zoya who came to me and told me he started back drinking. Your daughter had been keeping his secret, but she voiced her concerns—although I didn’t want to believe her. Now, I suspect it’s true. I tried to do what I could for him, but I’m afraid I am incapable of stopping Miad, Musa. You have to do something! The sound system is missing. So are your electric tools. He’s been pilfering items from around the house again. All the things he was doing before when the drinking got so bad that we had to send him away.”

  Musa struggled to his feet and glared down at Miad, who sat up on the couch looking as if he would spew fire if he could. Miad stared at Zoya. Zoya averted her gaze. “Miad, I asked her not to tell him,” she murmured to her brother. Miad shot to his feet.

  Turning to his father before Musa could have a chance to question him, Miad defended himself. “She tells you these things because you are a woman and weak-willed without the leadership of a man, Maman. You should have taken her message to Baba straightaway, rather than do as she asked and keep it a secret. She told you and not Baba because she knew he would see through her lies.”

  “I haven’t lied,” Zoya shook her head vehemently.

  Musa silenced her with a swift chop of his hand. “Speak, son.”

  “She had been consorting with a man named Micah Whitfield. Zoya grew perturbed when I confronted her and made her swear to stop seeing him after I found out about their inappropriate relationship. Look at her face. Does she look innocent to you now? She’s saying this stuff about me drinking to put a rift between us so that the distraction will deter you from finding out about her own wrongdoing. There you have it, Baba. The truth is made plain. She’s a liar and in danger of being much worse if we don’t confine her to this house and get her married off quickly before she shames us all.”

  Zoya’s mouth dropped open in outrage at the blatant twisting of the facts. “That’s not what’s going on here, and you know it,” she countered.

  Musa took a threatening step toward her, but Taba got to her first. “A woman I am, and in need of my husband’s sound judgement, yes. But, I’m not as simple as you would have me be, Miad,” she replied to her son. She grabbed Zoya. “I think what Miad is saying makes sense. What say you, Musa?”

  “Zoya, you will remain in this house and not leave this place without Miad to escort you. Am I clear?”

  “No, Baba. I have my own home. I have my own life. This is not right!”

  “This is right and righteous!” he father roared. His voice boomed through the room, and she shrank into herself at the ferocity of his command. “You will remain in this house!”

  “Go to your room,” Taba replied coldly.

  Zoya stared incredulously from her mother to her father. They couldn’t be serious! Miad smiled smugly, and she struggled not to hit him in his arrogant, handsome face. She spun away from them all and fled to her bedroom, incensed by the outlandish order.

  Taba turned to Miad. “You’re not completely off the hook either.”

  “You will see in time you are wrong about me, Maman. You always suspect the worst of me. As for the missing things around the house, yes, I took them! I pawned them to acquire the money necessary to set up a meeting with Javid at a nice restaurant. You wouldn’t have me meet him in a dump while wearing rags, would you? I convinced the young doctor to accept Zoya’s hand, despite her rebelliousness and questionable moral character. He has agreed on the grounds that she accept his proposal before the end of next week.”

  “You did this?” Musa said in surprise. He had thought Zoya’s chances of pairing with the wealthy merchant’s son after unceremoniously snubbing him were all but nil. A marriage with a man like Javid would be the perfect alliance for her. She needed a firm but gentle hand. The Vahidis were a proud, prosperous lineage of good standing within the community. Musa looked at Miad with new respect. All this time he had lamented his wastrel son’s bad attributes, yet it seemed Miad was only trying to do what was best for the family.

  Miad’s chest puffed out. “I may not bring much to the table, but I am trying. And, now it’s up to us as a family to ensure that Zoya’s virtue remains intact. She must not leave this house. She must meet with Javid and accept his proposal. I assure you, the more she toys with men, the more of a reputation of fickleness and irresponsibility she attains. It’s not lost on our peers that my sister grows older and wastes her time in secular pursuits. She needs to be curtailed before the damage done is too much to repair. At this point, Javid may be our only hope.”

  “He’s right,” Taba replied softly, nodding. “She’s running out of options.”

  “Then, we know what we have to do,” said Musa. “We’ve been too gentle on her, too quick to let her have freedoms that have perhaps gone to her head. Miad, you go to her apartment and have her roommate pack up some things for her. Take my bank card and pay out the rest of Zoya’s portion of the rent.”

  “Of course, Baba,” Miad replied demurely. He had no intention of paying the rent. He’d pocket the money. He needed it. “I’ll go right away.”

  “Hurry home,” Taba replied with a warning glance.

  Miad accepted his father’s debit card and strolled out of the house, feeling the weight roll off of his shoulders. Without him even working hard, things were falling into place. Zoya had intended her revelation about his drinking be his downfall. Instead, it would be the tool Miad needed to hoist himself up out of the hole completely. He would make sure she married Javid so his debts could be erased. After that…Miad wasn’t sure what he would do with his own life, but he knew exactly how her future was going to play out, and she deserved it for causing him so much trouble. Zoya would live a cold, unloved existence at Javid’s side.

  “What’s the saying? Better to have loved and lost.” He chuckled nastily to himself, as he hit the start button of his Camaro and headed off to Zoya’s apartment to pack up her things. His will would be done.

  ***

  Callie opened the door and looked up with a start to see Zoya’s older brother standing there with a self-satisfied smirk. He stared past her disdainfully, pushing into the apartment. “I’m here to collect some things for Zoya,” he muttered.

  “Excuse me?” Callie retorted. “You can’t just barge in here.” He walked past the kitchen and strolled through the living room like he had every right to be there. Callie followed him with a scowl. She jerked at his arms, and he shook her off. “I said you can’t just barge in here!”

  “Where is Zoya’s bedroom? You need to pack her a bag. She’s moving out. Just the essentials, and hurry up. I don’t have all day.”

  She made a sound of disbelief. “Where is she? What have you done to her?”

  “She’s safe at home where she belongs instead of gallivanting around the city with a strumpet like you. I tried to give you a chance to be the upstanding friend she needed, but I should have known you American women don’t have the moral fortitude. I warned you to be a better influence,” he said, pointing a finger in her face. Callie shoved his hand aside and rushed ahead of him to try to disbar him from traveling any deeper into her sanctuary until she understood exactly what was going on. “Fine, I’ll get it myself,” he said with a sigh when she didn’t follow his commands to pack for Zoya.

  Callie had spent the morning out with her boyfriend, and when she had returned, Zoya was away. Callie knew her roommate had made the trip across town to visit her family, and she also knew Zoya had been planning to break the news of her engagement to Micah to her folks. Miad showing up unannounced didn’t bode well. Callie stretched her arms out at the entrance to the corridor that led to her bedroom and Zoya’s and stared at Miad, challenging him. Her blond eyebrows clashed together over the bridge of her sharp nose, and her lips were firm, straight line. She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin.

  “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what happen
ed. You orchestrated this, didn’t you? Couldn’t stand to see your sister happy, so you made sure your parents would keep her where you wanted her! What’s wrong with you, you sick bastard? You can’t convince me she’s moving home of her own accord.”

  “Move,” he commanded.

  “What did you do to Zoya?”

  He leaned in close. “Zoya is no longer your concern. Now step aside so I can pack my sister’s things. We can do this the hard way or the easy way. I prefer not to have to come back here with the police.”

  The sickening smell of the vodka sweating through his pores was enough to make Callie gag. She enjoyed a wild night of partying just like the next college student, but having grown up with alcoholics all her life, Callie knew the signs of someone with a problem with drinking. His eyes were bloodshot and dull in color, spidery blood vessels standing out in stark contrast across the bridge of his proud nose. His body odor was a ripe mix of foulness from his body trying to purge him of the poison in his system and uncleanliness, hygiene undoubtedly falling low on his list of priorities now that his physical addiction to alcohol was taking over.