“It’s Cynthia. She’s gone.”
Cyn, I remember, at twenty, is my oldest sister. I growl. “What the fuck do you mean she’s gone?” Dead? Fuck I hope not.
“She’s packed her bags and walked out.”
“Is she missing? Have you checked around with her friends? What happened to make her leave?” And why talk to me?
“She’s not missing as such,” Mom shares mysteriously. “I, your stepdad, well, Grover, he was just being Grover. She’s been such a handful, Niran, and Grover went too far.” For the first time I hear real emotion as she unsuccessfully stifles a sob. “Her latest escapade upset him so much, he lost his temper.”
Now my snarl is louder. You never hit women, Son, however much you think they deserve it. The voice of my dad echoes in my mind. “He ever hit you, Mom?” If I’d known Grover was violent, I’d have done more to check in on her and had a chat using my fists, man to man.
“No, Niran. Grover’s not violent. He didn’t hit her. He just lost his temper. It’s Cynthia I’m worried about. She’s been a handful the last few years. Sometimes, I don’t think I know her. She’s bullheaded and can’t be made to see sense.” Despite the circumstances, I grin. Yeah, and I wonder where she gets that from. Mom can be very single minded. Once she gets an idea in her head, it’s firmly bedded in.
“Okay, let’s break this down, Mom. Do you know where she’s gone? Is she safe? And what can I do?” I don’t even know her. When I do go home they treat me as an oddity, an interloper, and I’m just as distant as them.
I’m expecting her to say talk to her, but hell, Cyn might be my sister, but she’s a stranger. She was a babe in arms when I first saw her, and on the few occasions when I’ve been back, apart from a blood bond, there’d been little connection between us.
“That’s why I’m calling you. Grover, well…” Whatever Grover did or said, she stops that train of thought without enlightening me. “Cynthia’s got it in her mind to come find her older brother, thinking you’d have sympathy for her. She emptied her college fund and is currently on a red-eye to San Diego.”
What the fuck? I ignore the thought of a college fund which was a luxury I’d never had. “How the hell did she think she was going to find me?” I’ve always been vague about my address. Having never admitted to being a Satan’s Devil, I’d been unable to share that I lived on the compound. I’d been a Marine so long, one room as my accommodation suits me well enough, and communal living was something that had attracted me to this life.
“I don’t know, but it’s Cynthia all around. I suspect she was going to visit all the auto-shops around.”
I start to ask if she’s any sense of how big San Diego is, when I realise it’s Cynthia. It’s all I need to know. Grover’s first child had been spoiled from the day she was born and being daddy’s girl had never wanted for anything. If she needed something, it would come her way. Now, apparently, she has for some unknown fucking reason, set her sights on me.
“When’s the plane land?” I ask through gritted teeth, mentally counting the beers I’d had. Conducting a sobriety test on myself, I walk a crack in the pavement. Passing, as my feet move in a straight line, I decide I’m okay to drive.
Mom’s done her homework and gives me the times of when the flight is likely to land and gives me the next one for good measure.
“I’ll go meet her, turn her around, and get her back to you, Mom.” How I’ll persuade her, I’ve yet to come up with a plan.
“No, Niran,” Mom almost shouts. “Please, can you keep her with you for a while? Maybe you can knock some sense into her?”
Me? I live on a fucking biker compound, hardly the place for my young sister. “Mom, I’m not set up to look after a kid.”
“She’s an adult, Niran. She just needs to learn some boundaries and a few of the facts of life. Please, just a few weeks.”
“I haven’t even a place of my own,” I admit. “I live over my job, Mom.” It’s the closest description I feel I can give her.
“Maybe that’s what she needs to see, Son. That life isn’t always handed to you on a silver platter. Niran, both Grover and I respect you. I know you and he didn’t always see eye to eye, but we were proud as fuck when you were a Marine, and how you’ve built a new life after losing your leg. You never came crawling back asking for help. We think you’ll be a good influence on her.”
I snort. Me, a good influence? I refrain from saying if she needs me to be that, she must really have gone off the rails.
Aware time’s ticking, I reassure her, “I better get going if I don’t want to miss her at the airport. I’ll get her to call you, okay?”
“Grover thinks it’s best if she stays away,” Mom states, and I can hear her voice shaking. “Grover, well, Grover and I, and her sisters, we need some space, and Cynthia needs to get her priorities in order.”
So this isn’t going to be a case of a quick hello/goodbye and me sending her back to Michigan, which doesn’t bode well for my future. But I’ve no time to waste, and no chance to protest being dragged into this shit.
It’s not until the call is ended that I realise I didn’t do the polite thing and ask about my other sisters. But hell, I’d left before they were born. All of them, even Cyn, are relatives on paper rather than in reality. My MC brothers are more my siblings then they’ll ever be.
Taking one of the club’s trucks, I realise I’ve got to put my foot down if I’m going to catch her. Half annoyed at the interruption to my life, and half intrigued at the out-of-the-blue request for help, I drive through the predawn quiet of San Diego and head for the airport. Annoyed at the extortionate short-term parking fee, I park the truck, then walk inside, immediately checking the information board. The flight from Detroit is on time and about to land.
As a Marine, my base had been Camp Pendleton. I’d come to prefer the climate of Southern California to that of Michigan, able to ride all year around, so even when I’d lost my leg and was medically retired, I’d found my place in San Diego and stayed. Home is where the heart is, as they say, and for me the heart went out of my hometown when my father had died. For a while I’d drifted, wanting something, not knowing what, but had no desire to return to my roots. The universe moves in strange ways, pointing me in the right decision and influencing the choices I’d made. It led me to where I needed to be. The Satan’s Devils are more than a club, they’re my family.
Blood might be thicker than water, but it’s engine oil that unites us more. I feel a pang of sympathy for the sister I barely know. Has she run in a fit of pique, or is there really nothing left for her at home? And last but not least, what the fuck did Grover say or do to her?
Not knowing whether I’m waiting to greet a girl barely out of her teens and with all the angst that age brings, or a young woman determined to find her own future, I wait where the passengers will exit the terminal, hoping like hell I recognise her. It’s been three years since I saw her last.
There she is. Tugging along a flight bag on wheels, her face set, her head tilted down as though she doesn’t want to attract attention, she’s following the other travellers and hasn’t yet glanced my way. She’s not expecting anyone to meet her. She can’t have guessed Mom would have contacted me.
She’s not grown taller, but then girls stop growing earlier, don’t they? They shoot up, towering over boys in their early teens, being fast overtaken later. She’s filled out though. Even wrapped in a thick fur coat, far too warm for our southern climate, there’s no mistaking she’s got a big chest on her. She sports long, sleek dark hair which had me fooled for a moment. I clench my teeth, realising she’s fallen into the trap of repressing her heritage. Black hair is beautiful, why cover it up? Because of the society we live in. Alternatively, it could be a disguise, but it’s not working well, as despite the length of time since I’ve seen her, I recognise her easily.
Still looking down, she moves to go around me when I step into her path.
“Cyn?”
She star
tles and looks up. A gleam appears in her eyes as she recognises me. “Niran!”
There are no hugs, no kisses, neither offered on my part nor initiated on hers. It makes me realise how little I know her, and that we’re half-brother and sister means nothing.
“Mom called me.” I explain my presence to her.
She grimaces. “I expect she told you everything.”
“No,” I contradict. “She told me fuckin’ nothing. Only that you’d taken off with some hare-brained scheme to come find me. How the fuck did you expect to do that?”
Shrugging, she snippily states, “Well, you’re here, aren’t you? Now can we get out of here?”
Give me patience. “Cyn, I’ve no house to take you to. We’re going to need to find a hotel for the night. We’ll find something and talk, then you’ll have to get a flight home tomorrow.” I’m tempted to book her one right now but decide to give her a chance to cool down and to talk to me as her big brother as that seems to be what she’s after.
“You’ve no home?”
“I live in one room, Cyn. That’s enough for what I need and want.” And it’s in a motorcycle club where I’ve no intention of taking her.
“I thought you were doing well for yourself.” I think I am. I’m living the life that I love and which suits me. Courtesy of my free accommodation, the money I earn from the club, and my military pension, I’ve amassed a respectable amount of savings, and I’ve nothing to be ashamed of. What more can a man ask for? But it’s not a life conducive to entertaining a sister. She’s regarding me carefully, then after a moment, sighs. “Oh well, a hotel will have to do for now. But I’m not going home, Niran. I’ll have to find somewhere to live.”
“San Diego is fuckin’ expensive,” I warn her. “You got a job lined up?”
Her eyes fill with horror, and she actually shudders. “A job?”
Of course she hasn’t. She’s here on impulse. I start to get an inkling of what Mom might have been alluding too. She’s been spoiled, waited on hand and foot, and now she expects me to step up and do that for her.
I want to say one night and then she’s on her own, but fuck it, how can I? We share blood if nothing else.
In some states, she’d be young enough to legally be my daughter. Breathing out a heavy breath, I lead her out of the terminal, knowing that if she insists on not going back to Detroit, I’m going to be stuck with her. How could I allow a girl of her age to wander the streets of San Diego? I can be an asshole at times, but not one as bad as that.
I head for a hotel I’d stayed in a few days after being released from rehab. It’s not changed much in the intervening years. It’s still basic, but clean and cheap. Cyn looks around with disdain as we walk to our room, but she keeps her mouth shut and doesn’t suggest she was expecting better.
If Cyn’s thinking of moving here permanently, I’ll help her to find a suitable place, but won’t change my lifestyle for her. I could easily afford a house, but I’ve never felt inclined to buy one. First in the Marines, now in the club, I’ve grown used to having people around me. Why run the risk of being lonely and having to cook all my meals for myself?
For Saffie perhaps, yeah. If we got together, I’d buy her a house. Fuck, why is my mind going there? I’ll be lucky if Saffie ever gives me the time of day again. Besides, we weren’t even headed that way. We were friends. There’s nothing to suggest we’d have developed any other relationship.
I force my thoughts to the woman entering the room with me, wondering why she’s here, and whether, hopefully, she just needs some space between her and her parents temporarily, for tempers to cool and such.
“You tired?” I ask, sitting my ass on one of the queen beds.
“Not really.” She glances at me and shrugs, pulling her case to the other bed.
She’s probably too hyped to sleep. Well, if she wants to stay awake, perhaps she’ll start talking. As soon as I know why she’s here, I can determine a way forward.
“So tell me, why are you here, Cyn?” Leaning back on the bed, I link my hands behind my head, and study her.
Shooting a look my way, she has an abrupt change of heart. “Perhaps I will try to get some sleep.”
“Uh-uh, Cyn. You’ve got to tell me sooner or later, so you might as well spill the beans.” I compose my features into a big brother’s frown and focus my eyes on her. “You’re not staying without telling me what the fuck’s going on.”
She huffs and sits herself down, her arms folded over her chest. “Dad’s a control freak.”
Yeah, I get that. It’s why I had to get out—curfews aimed to keep me on the straight and narrow when I hadn’t needed them, chores demanded that I’d have done in any event. Everything had to be to his timescale and by his inexperienced methods of raising another man’s son. Strangely, I’d been jealous of the freedom awarded to my sisters, another reason I’d stayed away, putting it down either to their gender, or that he’d grown into the father role having known them since they were born.
I suppress my you don’t know the half of it retort, and settle instead for, “In what way?”
Her shoulders rise and fall again. “I had a boyfriend, he chased him off.”
Rolling my eyes, I realise I’m not equipped to deal with problems of the heart. But assuming Grover had some basis for doing so, I ask, “Why did he do that?”
She grimaces. “I love him, Niran. I was living with him. Then when I went home to visit, Dad saw him and scared him off.”
So much about that doesn’t make sense. “Why didn’t your dad like him?”
She gives a rise and fall of her shoulders as if she doesn’t have a clue. But there’s a slight guilt there.
“Come on, Cyn. You want my help? Well, that comes at a price. Your honesty. I want the truth. I can call Mom tomorrow—”
“Alright, alright.” Pleading eyes meet mine. “Hester’s a good man. He just likes things done his way. I know I pushed him. I deserved the slap.”
He fucking hit her? I get to my feet fast, wobbling as I hit my false leg wrong and need a moment to get my balance. I might not have seen eye to eye with Grover in the past, but like him, this is something I won’t stand for.
“He fuckin’ what?” I growl.
“He didn’t mean to hurt me.” Unconsciously her fingers touch her eye which now that I look carefully, I can see is slightly swollen. Other things now come to my attention—the redness and the bruising that had been disguised by the darkness of her skin and which I’d put down to tiredness before. Before I can exclaim, she’s speaking again. “Dad got some of his buddies to beat him up, and Hester told me we were over. I love him, Niran. Dad’s got no right to interfere in my life.”
Grover’s got buddies capable of beating a man up? I’d never have expected that. But he does go up in my estimation for dealing with it in the same way I would.
“What fuckin’ life?” I rasp. “A life where you’re a punching bag? No man hits a woman, Cyn.”
“I love him,” she cries.
“Was that the first time he’d hit you?” I manage to get out.
Her shrug tells me everything.
I might not know Cyn, but I know she’s worth more than a life with an abusive fuck. If Grover hadn’t taken care of him, I’d have done it myself.
“You don’t know Hester,” she cries. “All my friends were jealous when he picked me. He’s got money, drives a nice car. He apologises… apologised,” she stresses rapidly, correcting herself, making my jaw clench. “When he lost his temper, he bought me flowers and everything. He promised he’d never do it again, and I believe him. But Dad… Dad flipped when he saw what he’d done.”
I don’t blame him. I’m certain this wasn’t the first time, but maybe the first where he’d left visible marks. I revise my view of my spoiled sister, and my brain makes some connections. She moved in with this man, probably the first proper relationship she’s ever had, not surprising if Grover kept her on a tight rein. Probably an act of rebellion to move ou
t, and she ended up with an abusive fuck just because he showed her some attention.
I also rapidly review my idea about keeping her away from the club. Maybe it’s time she had an education on how real men treat their women, and that no fists are involved when it comes to true love.
I have to know. “Cyn, what did you do to upset him?” No reason would be good enough to justify this asshole’s actions, but I’m interested in seeing what excuses she’ll make.
She bites her lip, looks down at her hands, and then admits, “I’d arranged to go out with my friends. He objected to what I was wearing, and thought I was going out on the prowl, looking for someone to replace him.”
She’d taken off her heavy coat as soon as we’d gotten into the truck, and as her clothes were the last thing on my mind, it’s only now I look at them, seeing she’s dressed quite conservatively—smart pants, not jeans, and a blouse buttoned up. She looks more middle-aged than twenty.
“You lived with him?”
She nods. “Just for a few months. Dad didn’t want me to move in with him, but I’m an adult now. Mom didn’t mind, and she persuaded him.”
She’s over eighteen, but her naivety shows. She jumped at the first man to show her attention, left her family and jumped into his life. What the fuck was my mom thinking? All of a sudden, I want to give her back her youth which she seems desperate to leave behind.
Life is for living for oneself, not for family and definitely not for an abusive boyfriend.
“Cyn,” I say gently, as I sit back down. “Mom doesn’t know this, and it’s up to you if you tell her. It’s true I’m a mechanic, but I’m also a member of a motorcycle club. I live at the clubhouse.” While I’d kept my life to myself, it’s not something of which I’m ashamed. If Cyn can’t keep secrets to herself, it’s past time they came out.
“You’re a biker?” Her eyes widen, then glance down to my prosthetic leg hidden under my jeans. “I didn’t think you could ride a bike.”
Shaking my head, I appraise her of the fact that I sure can.
Avenging Devil Part 1: Satan’s Devils MC - San Diego Chapter #3 Page 12