by Deja Voss
“You better not die on me. I might be a doctor, but I haven’t quite mastered bringing people back from the dead. I’ll see you soon. I promise.”
Begrudgingly, I open the car door for her and get in.
“What the fuck just happened?” she says as I put the car in reverse and start heading down the hill.
“I think that nice man just offered you a job.”
“That nice man? Other than his arms, his ass, and his smile, what about that man is nice?”
“What does it matter?” I ask.
“Are you drunk? You know what those bikers are like. I feel like you’re constantly walking around trying to invent new ways to ruin your life.”
“What’s this have to do with my life? It’s a hookup, Olive. Sometimes a girl just needs to blow off a little steam.”
“Or blow off a big bad biker she just met?”
“I don’t kiss and tell, Ollie, you know that.” Just kidding. Seriously, if I had my way with that mountain masterpiece, I would’ve made sure she heard every gory detail.
“Listen, I don’t blame you one bit. I probably would’ve done the same thing. Hell, I probably would’ve locked you in the car and casually pushed it off the cliff.”
“I know, ya asshole,” I say, punching her in the shoulder. “The thought crossed my mind, but I didn’t want to lose my ChapStick in the glove compartment.”
“That’s just your lady blue balls talking. I’ll pretend like I never heard that.”
“You’re gross. And you’re going to take that job.”
“You mean I’m going to give you an excuse to creep on some guy you’re trying to bone?” She laughs.
We’re back on the long dirt road, and this time I’m going to take it slow. My poor car has seen enough trauma for the day, and so have my lonely lady parts. I think a pothole would feel like a gunshot to the crotch.
“Well, it obviously has more potential than your stripping career.”
“Oh, fuck off. I’ll think about it. But not because of you. I’ll spend my dying breath keeping you away from guys like that until you’re done with school, and you know it. I already let you slip once.”
“K, mom.” Sure, maybe this wasn’t going to go down as one of my best life choices, but I would definitely have zero regrets. I can’t stop thinking about his hands on my body, his mouth on my neck. Men like him know what they’re doing, and I was totally willing to let him prove it to me in any way he wanted.
“I’ve been called worse.”
“I have quite a few choice names for you right now, actually, captain cockblock.”
“We both know you’ll be thanking me someday. You know he only offered me that job so he could get in your pants, right?”
“That’s what I was hoping.” I pull my car into the parking lot of the twenty-four-hour diner off the highway. “Olive, I have a hole that needs to be filled, and I think a cheeseburger the size of my head is my only option at this point. You got any money?”
“C’mon. I’ll even let ya get a milkshake if you promise not to talk about your holes anymore.”
“Fries too?” I ask, skipping across the parking lot.
“Sure.”
CHAPTER 4
EIGHT YEARS AGO
Gavin:
“Dude, you only have two beers in your fridge. This is not what I imagined Gavin Boden’s collegiate pussy palace to look like,” Heat scolds. Late fifties and scruffy as hell, I almost feel bad I don’t have something special planned for the old guy. It’s not every day I can pry the chaplain of the Mountain Misfits Motorcycle Club out of his hole and drag him down the hill to walk among the living.
“You shoulda been here last night. This place was crawling.”
He shakes his head at me.
“Too little, too late, son.”
A short little brunette in cutoff jean shorts comes flying out of my bedroom, screaming as she clutches her shirt to her chest.
“Found a live one!” Clutch shouts, following her out with a box of my stuff. He just recently finished his final tour in Iraq, and I’m sure he’s going nuts here on campus with all the fresh young tail running around. The man has always been a dog. Charming and loyal as hell, but still a dog.
“What the hell have you been eating, Gavin?” he asks. “You’re fucking yoked. You look good, man.” I had been putting the time in at the gym. When you’re not doing manual labor on the mountain, it’s crazy how much pent-up energy you end up with.
“Beard’s a little thin, though,” Heat teases, grabbing my scruff. “We’ll get you back where you belong, boy, and get that fixed up quick.”
“You guys really didn’t have to come down and help me move. I would’ve figured something out.”
“Oh, come on, Gavin,” Heat says. “You know we can’t wait to get you back up on the hill with us. Just wait until you see what we have arranged for tonight. You think this place was crawling last night? We’ve been planning your graduation party since the day you got accepted into college.”
I’m sure all these bikers dragging boxes out of my apartment are well out of their element. I was the first Mountain Misfit to go to college, let alone graduate. Hell, I don’t even feel right here half the time. You can take the man out of the mountain, but trying to function down here is claustrophobic on a good day, and on the worst days, well, I feel like a fucking wolf in a cage.
I dumped all my aggression into studying and working out. Muscling through. If it got to be too much to handle and I felt like I was going to explode, there were always plenty of pretty young chicks who wanted to straddle my bike.
But I’m done. I’m graduated. For now.
Law school is the next logical step.
The next logical step.
Maybe not the next actual step. I need to feel things out first.
I’ve passed my LSAT. Got accepted into a fairly decent school that’s at least somewhat rural.
I haven’t even said a word to anyone about it except my roommate, and he’s making himself scarce at the moment while my rough and tumble crew, my family, load boxes into the moving van. I don’t blame him.
I don’t want to tell the guys that I’m not coming back to stay like they think I am. At least not yet. I just want to enjoy a couple months out in the woods, up on the mountain, riding my bike and spending time with my crew.
When you’re a Mountain Misfit, you don’t have the luxury of a five-year plan. More like a five-minute plan.
“I’m surprised Goob didn’t want to come along.” My youngest brother, only ten years old, would do anything to be included in club business. He idolizes us, and with good reason. Our mother bailed when he was a baby, so club life is all he knows. Anything is possible, though. I was raised in it and look at me now. He’ll figure it out when the time comes. For now, I’m happy with him being an innocent kid, and I know these men will throw themselves in front of a bullet for the little guy.
“Oh shit, Gavin.” Heat’s face turns dark. The scar that stretches from his forehead to his ear is twitching, and I can tell whatever he’s about to tell me is much worse than the information I’m withholding from them.
“What?”
“Your dad said he talked to you about it. Said you thought it was a good idea. That a boy needs his mother.”
I slam my fist on the countertop. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”
“I don’t know, man. You know I’d do anything for the boy, but I’m not his blood. It’s not my decision.”
I need to punch something, but I don’t feel like patching up a wall so my roommate, Dale, can get his security deposit back.
“He just let her come and get him? Why?”
I don’t remember much about my mother, other than the fact that the only thing she loved more than cheating on my dad was drugs. He was more the other way around. The two of them were explosive, the fights never-ending. She disappeared with a safe full of family heirlooms ten years ago and hasn’t been around since. I sure as hell
didn’t miss her.
Dad’s definitely not a much better parent, but he’s always used the club as his excuse. As president, he has a lot on his plate. Taking care of three boys and a daughter always fell by the wayside. We ran wild as kids, doing whatever we pleased up there in the mountains while club prostitutes, drug dealers, and patched brothers made sure we stayed fed and kept all our limbs attached.
“Honestly, I think it was just getting to be too much for the old man. With Micah gone and you here, Goob needed a lot more attention than your dad was willing to give. I thought he ran it past you, though. Figured you worked something out or I would’ve said something sooner.”
“Where are they?”
Knowing my mother, this wasn’t just some attempt to reconnect with her long-lost son. She’s conniving. There’s an ulterior motive somewhere in there.
“Poconos, I think. She showed up with some suit when she came to get him; called him Uncle Harry. I think he works in the film business.”
My blood is coming to a boil.
“He’s ten years old, Heat! Do you have any idea how bad this is going to fuck him up? Being sent to live with two strangers? Getting bailed on by everyone and everything he knows? You know that woman. She’s crazy.”
“Listen, man, I thought you knew. You want to track him down? I’m sure we can.”
“Yes, I want to track him down. Tonight. I’m not going back up there unless I have him with me.”
“Let me make some calls.” He steps into the other room, and I grab as many boxes as I can, not even caring at this point if I leave anything behind. I just need to go take care of my family.
There goes law school.
There goes that other shoe, the one that’s always about to drop.
I should’ve never left.
I can’t even be mad at my dad for bailing. I did the exact same thing.
Brooks comes barreling through the kitchen door, a shit-eating grin stretched across his face and a girl on both of his arms.
“Can I keep them?” he asks.
“Gavin, why didn’t you tell us your friends were so much fun?” the blonde bubbles.
“Yeah, Gavin,” Brooks jokes. “Why didn’t you tell us college was so much fun?”
I toss him a taped-up cardboard box.
“You ladies don’t know what you’re getting yourselves into,” I warn.
“Oh, come on.” Brooks and I grew up together for the most part. His father was the president of the club before he passed in a strange and tragic “accident” when we were teenagers. We both had always hoped that one day, when we were older, Brooks would take over and I could be his vice president.
“You are all grown, consenting adults. How are you gonna fit two girls on your bike, though?”
“No need,” Clutch steps in, shooting the tall brunette a wink. You can tell she about faints as she smooths her little sundress down her curvy tan thighs.
“Got ya an address,” Heat says, passing me his phone. I punch the coordinates into mine. It’s looking like a two-hour ride, but I’m going to push it as fast as I can.
“I’m coming for you, buddy,” I think, hoping that some sort of blood brother ESP connection truly does exist. As much as I love spending time on the road, I have a feeling it’s not going to be a pleasant trip.
I pull the door of the moving van shut. There’s no turning back now. My experiment in living my life as anything but a misfit outlaw has officially concluded.
“Thanks, guys. I’ll see ya when I see ya.”
“You sure you don’t want me to come with? You don’t know what you’re walking into, and I feel like this is my fault,” Heat says.
“It’s not your fault. And no. I’ll be fine. My kin, my responsibility. You guys just get back up there.”
I give him a long hug. We might be big badass bikers, but we’re family.
Brooks and Clutch hit me with some pats on the back as they fire up their bikes. The little blonde jumps up and down, squealing with excitement. I don’t even know her name, but I’m sure I’ll hear all about it later in dramatic detail. She doesn’t look like our typical dirty birdies, but knowing Brooks, she’ll be dressed in leather booty shorts, desperate to make him an old man by the end of the summer. I’m sure her parents will be proud.
“If this is how you tip, I’ll be your moving man any day,” Clutch laughs, squeezing his new fling around the waist.
“I’m hoping for a little more than the tip.” She smiles. Now he looks like he’s about to faint. Maybe he’s met his match. He swats her ass and looks at me seriously.
“You sure you don’t want backup?”
“You got a piece I can borrow?”
He nods, pulling the gun out of the holster on his hip.
When I first came to school, I constantly wore mine tucked into the waistband of my pants where nobody would see, even if it was against campus policy. After a while, I relaxed, stashing it in a safe under my bed and pretty much forgetting it even existed. It felt strange having this power back in my hands. Strange knowing that I wouldn’t have asked for it if I didn’t plan on using it. I tuck it in my waistband.
“Good luck, Gavin,” he says. “You’re a good man.”
I stand on the sidewalk and wave them off.
I pull my bike out of the shitty little shed off the side of our apartment building for the last time. My college days are over. For good. Forever. It’s time to scoop up my brother and get us both back to where we belong, high up on the mountain with our fellow misfits.
CHAPTER 5
Sloan:
“Ugh,” I groan as I flop down on the couch, resting my head in Arthur’s lap. “Everything fucking hurts.”
“Here, baby,” he says, handing me a joint. I take a long drag, coughing out a massive cloud before I can even actively exhale.
He’s mindlessly flipping through the channels, and I don’t even care. I don’t feel like watching TV. I’m too tired to concentrate, but too exhausted to sleep. Trying to balance medical school with a full-time job is not even kind of practical, but thanks to my family’s shitty credit history, neither is taking out student loans.
“I don’t know why you don’t just quit that stupid job, Sloan.”
“I dream about it every day, Art. It’s just not possible, though.”
The pay at the nursing home is great, don’t get me wrong, but it’s hard on my body. I’m not a tiny girl or anything. I do my best to stay fit, but trying to maneuver people’s bodies around who just don’t want to or can’t move puts a physical beating on me. I could live without the daily exposure to all the bodily fluids and the verbal abuse from the staff members who don’t have the patience for my constant exhaustion. I don’t blame them. That’s their career. This is just my starting point.
“It’s totally possible,” he says. “You know I can take care of you.” He slides his hand into mine, drawing circles in my palm with his thumb.
“Do you know how much medical school costs? And then I have a five-year fellowship before I can become a surgeon. We’re talking crazy money here.”
Not that I wasn’t absolutely positive he had it. The couch I’m sprawled out on is leather. The TV in front of us takes up most of the wall. The floors are marble, and the ceilings are high enough for chandeliers in every room.
And of course, he has them.
Arthur isn’t one to spare any expense.
I went from the trailer park to a mansion in a matter of two months of dating him and I haven’t looked back since. Sure, things are moving fast, but when you’re twenty-two and in medical school, it’s hard to find companionship. It’s hard to meet anyone decent.
My father introduced us, which should’ve sent up immediate red flags, but there’s something different about Arthur. He’s not the typical shady scumbag thug my dad usually has as “business associates.” He’s young. He’s articulate. He’s good-looking, with long blond hair and the kind of lean muscular build that screams sexy. He makes my life e
asier. It doesn’t hurt that he showers me with gifts, and I haven’t had to cook a meal for myself or do my own laundry since I moved in. Most of the time, I feel like I’m living in a dream.
Except when reality swoops in and pinches me.
“I can afford it, Sloan. Besides, I don’t like the way your boss looks at you.”
I sit up on the couch so I can face him. Arthur may seem like he has it all, but his jealousy is a constant point of contention. He doesn’t like how the guy who bagged our groceries looks at me, he doesn’t like how the man who delivers the mail looks at me. At first, I thought it was cute, I thought he was being protective, but this is just beyond ridiculous.
“And how does he look at me, Arthur?”
“Like you guys are fucking or something.” He has this expression on his face that’s a mix between a smirk and scowl, and it makes me really uncomfortable. I don’t think for a second that he’s joking. His hand slides to my wrist, gripping it a little tighter than I’m comfortable with.
“You’re out of your damn mind, Art. Stan Winkman is sixty-three and married to his high school sweetheart. They have six kids and ten grandkids. He’s getting ready to retire this year. I can assure you we are not fucking.”
I’m done with this conversation. I go to stand up but he pulls me back, gripping me tighter.
“Why are you being like this, Sloan? I’m just trying to help you. I just offered to put you through college and you’re getting all defensive about some geriatric douchebag who has the hots for you.”
Am I going crazy? It’s a question I actively have to ask myself more often than I’d care to admit.
“You’re twisting this all up, Arthur, and you know it. When we started dating, I made a commitment to you, and if you can’t trust me, then I don’t think we should be together anymore.”
“Babe,” he says, pulling me into him, wrapping me in his arms. His touch does little to console me. I’m mad as hell, and I just need some space to breathe. “I trust you. Seriously. I trust you with my life. It’s these men I don’t trust. I mean, look at you. You’re gorgeous, you’re brilliant, and you make me feel complete. I’ve never cared about anyone like I care about you. I just don’t want to see you get taken advantage of because of how kind you are.”