by Colt, Shyla
“I hear you and I agree.”
Rowan squeezes my shoulder and I lean against her and smile.
“Good, now clean up and you girls get prettied up. I’m taking my best girls out on the town.”
True to his word, Danny took us out that night and every other one after. I wasn’t blind to his plan of distraction. Between him and my last semester of school, I didn’t have much time to fret over Dallas. He still occupies a giant chunk of my thoughts, but the depression can’t set in when I refuse to slow down and let it. There’s been little to no contact from him. It’s something I’m not going to let slide when he comes home.
Rowan pulls up in front of the gate as I ride bitch and my heart races.
There’s a shiny row of bikes being cleaned by the prospects.
“They’re back.”
Joy, anger and apprehension come together inside me, creating the beginnings of a storm.
“You ready to see your boy?” Rowan asks
“I don’t know if that title is even accurate.” I glance down at my lap. “He’s been distant and brief since he left.”
A prospect jogs over and pulls the gate open, letting us in.
Rowan snorted. “Are you kidding me? Off or on, happy or pissed off, Dallas Wesson could only ever be yours, Baby Girl.”
“Come on, Irish, he’s a wanderer.” I glance over, taking in the porcelain skin dotted with freckles, and large blue eyes that earned her the nickname Irish when we were kids.
“No, he was until you were old enough to fuck with. I saw it the minute you turned fourteen and grew a rack. He tried to keep the shit under lock and key, but I’m damn observant.”
“I don’t know.” I shake my head. “Maybe I don’t live up to the girl he placed on a pedestal.”
She huffs. “Stop. Girl, you need to fully realize your power. You’re the one in control, honey. Trust me.”
I sigh. “Maybe.”
“No maybe, you ready for this? I can run interference, take you home?”
“No. It’s time,” I say, ready to be brave and go head to head with the stubborn ass. I wouldn’t let all of Danny’s hard work go to waste. He tried to be slick, but I noticed the pep talks, extra attention and confidence boosts. My boy bestie has never let me down. I wouldn’t let him down now by being a chicken shit. Growing pains were a bitch. When I grew a pair and entered my relationship with Dallas, I changed our dynamic.
“Look at you growing up and shit.”
“Shut up, Rowan. I’m nervous as fuck.”
She chuckles. “Don’t be.” Reaching over the console she pushes up my breasts and tucks my hair behind my ear. “Your cleavage alone in that tank is going to slay him after a month long road trip and those jeans make your ass look fantastic.”
I beam. Her words are a much needed boost.
“You’re beautiful, Baby Girl, time to own that shit.”
I nod, taking a deep breath and lean in, hugging her tight. “Love you, Irish.”
“I love you too, Baby Girl.”
We pull apart and leave the car, slipping out into the bright sunlight. I square my shoulders, hitch my backpack up and walk inside…ready for battle.
The tension is so thick I could gag on it. The men stand around looking anywhere but at the bar, which means someone is having it out.
I sigh. They always got testy on the road.
“You coming to me like this when I get off the road, offering up disrespect?”
I’d know Dallas’ voice anywhere.
“You’re the one in the wrong,” Danny booms.
“Fuck, they’re at it again.” My breath hitches in my chest.
“What, Irish isn’t enough…you want to hone in on my territory?”
Stools hit the ground. I dart away from Rowan and weave my way through the rows of thick bodies blocking my view.
“Take this shit out back and hash it out!” Rule booms.
Panic sets in. I’ve seen the after effect of their talks before. It’s not a pretty sight. I fight my way to the bar in time to see the door that leads out the back slam shut.
“Let ‘em go, Baby Girl,” Rule catches me around the waist.
I look up into his brown eyes and frown. “No, this is about me. I’m not going to let them do this.”
“He ain’t wrong, little one, Dallas was out of line,” Rule says, “Better Danny set him straight than your Papa over there.” Rule nodded toward Rufus leaning against the bar silently fuming.
“Rule, please?” I plead with him. “I don’t want this on my conscience.”
Rule sighs. “Damn, you and Irish are going to be the death of me. Thank fuck, no one else had girls.”
I flash him a smile and run off. Pushing the door open, I stumble out back into the heat.
“You fuck her with no protection! You could get her pregnant.” Dan shoves Dallas.
He holds his ground and balls up his fists. “I’m going to give you one chance to stand down, little brother.” Dallas’ jaw ticks and his eyes flash with anger.
When he’s truly furious he goes still. I know if he explodes right now, he’s going to hurt Danny. Danny has a good three inches on his older brother, but Dallas is meaner.
“No! How could you be so stupid?” Danny continues.
“That shit was intentional you ignorant son of a bitch. Cora is mine. I own that shit. I want my name tattooed on her flesh, my kid in her belly and my cut on her back, and I want that shit yesterday.”
His words silence Danny.
I gasp, completely shocked by his admittance. “Fuck.” Suddenly, the pieces fall into one whole picture. He didn’t push me away because he was pissed. He feels scared and uncertain. Happiness expands inside me like a helium filled balloon.
“You want to knock her up, but you don’t want to tell her you plan on doing it,” Danny hisses.
He already did. That first day when he told me he wanted everything. My head spins.
“This is between us,” Dallas growls. The veins in his muscles pop out and his forehead is wrinkled.
“What if she’s not ready for this?” Danny seethes. The tension in his body is ringing alarm bells.
“She agreed to it when she said yes to being my old lady.” Dallas stares down his brother and it’s like he expands.
The air around him becomes crowded and I sense the deadly violence he’s capable of, creeping to the surface.
“She’s not! You know her dad won’t allow that until you’ve gained his blessing.”
I rush forward, inserting my body between them. “This is why you were upset?” I ask capturing Dallas’ gaze with mine. “Because you think I doubted you?”
“Fuck, yes, Cora.” His shoulders relax and he steps forward, framing my face with his hands. “We’re forever. Not a damn thing could ruin this between us. You have to know that. I could give a fuck about anyone else.” He shakes his head. “I expect this shit from everyone else, not from you. Never from you. You’ve seen inside me, I let you in my head. I told you when we started I wanted it all. You don’t get to renege now, because the waters are deep.”
I cover his hands with my own. “I’m sorry, Dallas. You’re a lot to handle and so is your past.”
“You knew what you were getting into with me, babe. I can’t go back in time.”
“I know, and I’m not asking you to. But it doesn’t make it easier to deal with.”
“Babe, you outrank all of those bitches. You want them gone…say the word. If what you’re wanting is out of this…we have a problem. ‘Cause, I’ll tell you right now, babe, that shit isn’t going to happen.” Dallas shakes his head.
“No, I don’t want out.” I struggle to put into words the things going on in my crowded mind. Tied up in knots I try to articulate the kaleidoscope of emotions he creates.
“Fuck, you’re an idiot,” Danny says. “She needs you to slow down, asshole. You been out there with those fucking whores so long, you forgot how to treat a lady.” He turns on his heels and b
egins to walk off, then he halts. “And hey, here’s a thought, ask her what she wants before you start working on a future,” Danny yells over his shoulder.
Dallas palms my ass, pulling me up against the hard bulge in his jeans. “We got plans you and I, Baby Girl. Five kids, four boys and one girl to satisfy your need for estrogen. A wedding like this club has never seen the minute your dad give his blessing, and you on the back of my bike riding bitch forever.”
“I…” My mouth went dry. “That’s a lot.”
“Oh, I’ve had years to think about this, sweetheart. I wanted you when my sick ass shouldn’t have. I can’t wait any longer.” He ran his thumb over my bottom lip. “See, I’ve been holding back, but I see now that’s not the right way to handle you. It’s left you unsure of my true feelings. You want the full Dallas Wesson experience, you got it.”
The words were a balm to my battered pride. I lick my lips. I want this with him. I want the crazy, the all consuming stomach fluttering love. “I want this with you, Dallas. I want all of it, but you can’t talk to me the way you did. You made me feel like I was some sort of club whore. There was no discussion, no meeting in the middle, just you cutting me down, walking off and leaving.”
“I never said you were. This shit ain’t easy for me, Cora. I’m not good at emotion and sharing. Fuck, it makes my brain melt. I fuck up everything I touch and I can’t do that with you.” His hands slide up from my ass to grip my hips. “If you leave me, I’ll lose my shit, baby.”
Seeing him so open and vulnerable made all the pain he’d caused disappear. I slid my fingers into his shaggy road hair and raise up on tiptoe to kiss him. “And I get that. I respect you for being honest. But if you want us to work, you have to come correct.” I shake my head. “I’ve seen too many women lose themselves in Wesson men. I won’t be among the nameless faceless added to that pile of decaying bones. I deserve better and you know it.”
“I fucked up and I knew it. But once the shit was in play I couldn’t back step.” He shakes his head. “It won’t happen again.”
“It better not.”
He bends down, sealing our agreement with a kiss.
Present
Too bad hindsight is twenty—twenty. I should’ve known then that shit couldn’t last. The memories show me how weak I’ve been. No more. I shake my head, shrugging off the memory residue. He broke his promise today when he rode off without a damn word. Why should I honor mine any longer? Anger rises and I cling tight to it, allowing it to propel me forward. Because if I stop right now and think of all I’ve lost—I’m going to break.
Float On
Dallas
My eyes are burning, and my body is aching. Good, it matches the organ inside of my chest. I do a slow blink and the grittiness in my eyes make my retinas beg for mercy. I scan the road and see green metal squares with stick people and cutlery. Food and sleep. The thought of eating turns my stomach, but I know I need the fuel and the reprieve from the road. My body is sticky from the heat, but my mind has been gloriously blank. I turn off the deserted highway. The back of my bike feels empty without Cora on the back and I long for the baby fresh scent of R. Maybe I shouldn’t have left. I push the doubts away. I know all too well what life is like with a man who’s been broken. I wouldn’t put Cora or R through that.
My father rode my ass from the minute I hit five. I became a soldier. A small adult to mold, shape and push to the limits of breaking. Every time he knocked me down, I was forced to get back up. It made me stronger, but it came at a high cost. When my mom died, it broke something inside him and it never healed quite right. He became cold and distant. I lost my mom and in so many ways my dad too, which was far worse. Seeing him day in and day out, but never being able to connect became a slow torture I learned to live with. I decided I’d be the best biker badass I could be, but even that was never truly enough. The thought of my son wilting under my guidance makes me sick. I pull into the parking lot of the first motel I see with an attached restaurant and park. They’re better without me right now. Cora and I are no stranger to turbulence. Once I get my shit together. I’ll go back and we’ll mend the cracks running through our family.
I get off my bike and my mind is flooded with images of Cora. Wherever I go, I carry her with me. She’s the rhythm of my heart. The very reason my blood continues to flow through my veins, keeping me upright and breathing, despite the beatings I’ve received from life.
Past
“What the fuck were you thinking, Dallas? When you saw shit didn’t look right you should’ve bailed on the run. Fuck. How long you been doing this?”
My father’s hot breath assaults my face and his bellows make my ears ache. His words bounce off the walls in the tiny office where I’m getting bitched out. I stare straight ahead.
“Answer me, boy.”
His snarling growl raises the hairs on the back of my neck. I look him in the eyes. Twenty-five years old and my old man still has the ability to make me want to piss my pants. “I don’t know what you want me to say, P.”
“You don’t know what?” He looks up at the ceiling and shakes his head. “That’s all you got for me? Please tell me you aren’t bringing this sorry shit to my doorstep. I trusted you to do this. Have been trusting you for months. Do I need to start wiping your ass again, every time you take a crap?” His brown eyes are like lasers seeking to destroy.
I flinch. His words are like bullets, tearing at my skin, shredding up my insides and destroying my self-esteem. It’s a sick ass cycle. I live to please him and I think he lives to put me back in my place. I knock you down, so I can build you back up, better and stronger, he always says. “It looked okay to me. Nothing seemed off, same drop off, same people. There was no way I could’ve known the shit would go south.”
He narrows his eyes and I feel my six foot frame sink to about five eight. He has that effect on people.
“You sure about that?”
“Yes, I’m damn sure. We deliver the guns, they come out with the duffle just like every other time, and then next thing I know, it’s fucking raining bullets. You think I’d put my brothers in harm’s way like that?”
“Would you?”
“Fuck no.”
“That’s not how I heard it told. I hear they were antsy.”
“They were forking over fifty G. It made sense to me that they’d act a little wary.”
“There’s your first mistake, thinking instead of doing what I tell you to.” He grabs my cut and pulls me to him. “If we lose Torch over this shit, it’s on your head.”
My head pounds and my temples pulse along with my heartbeat. Images of my friend covered in blood fills my vision. He’d been right in front of me when he’d been mowed down. We returned fire, but that did shit for him. The sand below him turned red with his blood and his rattling breaths were some of the most horrific sounds I’ve ever heard.
When Shipley retreated, I knelt beside him, stripped down and placed my shirt over the wound. We load him into the cage we used to transport the weapons and rush him to the hospital. I watch as the life begins to slip from him as his breathing went faint, then his skin goes pale and cool to the touch. “You think I don’t already know that?” I asked, swiftly retreating from the incident too raw to examine.
“You want to take this outside? You think you’re ready to be king?”
He has asked this question so many times, I’m tired of hearing it. “Did I say I was?” I whisper.
His heads snaps back like I punched him.
“If I decide to go for your crown, you’ll know it.” My chest heaves and heat engulfs my face. My mind is a mixed bag of anger, regret and fear. Fight or flight sets in.
“You want to come at me right now? I dare you.”
My body shakes and for a minute, all I can see is everything he’s ever put me through. The back handed compliments, hazing and mental abuse. I clench my jaw, ball my fists and prepare to unleash the hell locked within, festering as it rots me from the inside out.
The air between us is charged. He squares his shoulders. The sound of his phone going off is a crisis-ending intervention. He pulls the phone out of his pocket and gives me his back. “Rule.”
His shoulders slump and I know we just lost Torch.
“When? Yeah.” He releases a large sigh. “I’ll let the brothers know.”
My stomach is a whirlpool. The remnants of my last meal swirl around in a circular motion, climbing their way back up towards my throat. I take a step back toward the door.
My father turns around. There’s pity in his gaze, along with sorrow. “Torch is gone.”
With those three words, my world is turned on its side. I was the one in charge of this run. This is on me. I think of his old lady and his two–year-old, Tommy. I turn on my heel and walk out.
“Dallas.”
My father’s voice is background music as I stroll to the bar and snap my fingers at the blonde behind the counter. “Whiskey bottle now.”
She scurries over to the shelf, grabs a bottle of top grade and sets it in front of me.
I snatch it off the counter, unscrew the top and take a healthy swallow. The burn is welcome and necessary to keep me from knocking someone’s head off. My father steps out of his office and I walk to my room. I don’t want to hear the news a second time, or share this moment with other mourners.
The bottle is half gone when a knock sounds on my door twenty minutes later.
“Dall, it’s Danny.”
Only my baby brother would risk my wrath right now. “Good for you,” I slur.
“Fuck. Are you drunk?”
I laugh. “You think?”
The doorknob turns and the door opens slowly.
He knows me well enough. I’m not a happy drunk when I don’t want to be bothered.
He steps into the room. “Hey, you okay? We all heard about Torch.”
Do you think I’m okay? I got my best friend killed out there. “I’m solid.” I raise my bottle. “To Torch! May he rest in peace.” The words are acid on my burn. I take another swig to wash away the sting with a different type of fire.