by Meadow Rayne
The last rays of sun streamed through the window and Tab held his bottle up in the light. The liquid sparkled as it sloshed around in the glass.
“Ty doesn’t want me in there. He won’t let anybody go in and see you like that.”
The beer turned bitter on her tongue. “I’m still the little sister.”
“That’s what he sees you as. What he’ll always see.”
She drained the bottle. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
***
The interior of the trailer was stifling, so they went out on the porch to cool off. Rose straddled the chopper, admiring the custom paint job on the gas tank. The skull grinned up at her, the fool’s cap at a jaunty angle.
Tab tossed his empty bottle into a fire pit beside the house and said, “Let’s go for a ride.”
“Now? It’ll be dark soon.”
“Know a better time?”
He insinuated himself between her and the gas tank, then started the motorcycle. Rose grasped hold of his waist and they rolled out of the driveway.
When they hit the highway, he accelerated. The wind was coarse as it whipped through her hair. She pressed her cheek against his shoulder and closed her eyes.
His body, like Ty’s, was athletic and muscular. For a moment, she imagined he was Ty and that it was his machine humming between her legs. A subtle ache spun out of her loins and she squeezed Tab a little tighter.
Exhilaration filled her as they sped over the blacktop. Tab switched into a higher gear and the bike leaped forward. She cried out, delighted.
They traveled a mile before reaching the service station at the side of the highway. Tab reduced his speed as they neared it, and did a U-turn in the parking lot. Then they were off again.
Rose welcomed the wind in her hair as she lifted her face from Tab’s shoulder. They streaked down the road and when she opened her mouth to yell out, a fat bug flew into it. She choked.
“What’s the matter?” Tab yelled.
Tears streamed from her eyes and she thumped him hard on the back. He slowed to a stop and turned.
Rose waved her hands as she coughed and sputtered. At last, the insect dislodged from her throat. She spit it out onto the pavement.
“I choked on a bug!” she wailed.
Tab laughed. “I thought you were having a heart attack.”
“You dork,” she cried. “It’s not funny.”
Still laughing, he pulled back onto the highway.
When they pulled into the driveway several bikes were parked in the amber glow of the porch light. A big man with a long beard stood at the head of the pack. He wore a red bandana as a headband and his hair was threaded with gray.
Tab pulled to a stop and Rose got off.
The big man, his face half in shadow, smiled. “Hey Baby Girl, glad you could make it.”
“Bear,” she said, hugging him. “I’m glad to see you again. I just wish it wasn’t like this.”
Bill “Bear” Johnson was the president of the Jesters. He had taken Wolf Mason’s place when the former president had been murdered.
“Don’t worry about a thing. Old Bear and the boys will take care of it.” He motioned to a young man with a short, black beard. “You know my kid, Rory?”
Rose smiled. “Of course I do. I babysat him when I was fifteen. Hey, Rory.”
The young man nodded.
“We’ve got a lead, Tab,” Bear said. “I think you’ll want to come along on this one.”
“Lead the way.” He turned to Rose. “I could be gone for a while. Will you be ok?”
“I’ll be fine.”
She backed away as the thunderous roar of Harley Davidson engines filled the air. Bear was the only other member there with an old school bike. His massive frame reclined in the seat as he led the group out of the drive.
Chapter 5
Rose called her mother shortly after Tab left. Dixie reported that Ty was doing well and that some of his swelling had receded. They had discovered another fracture in his right arm, but he was fine otherwise. His legs and hips were unbroken. The doctor would have him transferred out of the ICU once they were sure he had not sustained a concussion or any form of brain damage.
Dixie also indicated that Ty said police batons were used in the attack, but had kept that information from the authorities. He was sleeping now.
Rose ended the call and sat in the quiet trailer. A child laughed a ways off and a dog barked somewhere in the distance.
Her body was heavy and she almost didn’t get off the couch. Yawning she made her way to the bedroom. The bed had been neatly made and to her surprise, the sheets were clean. She undressed in darkness and climbed into bed.
She awoke to a moon-silvered room. Tab didn’t have any clocks and, because it was her day off, she hadn’t worn a watch. She blinked as her naked body came into focus. Her nipples had peaked in the cool air.
She turned toward the darkened doorway and an icy thrill filled her. A man stood staring at her. Although she knew it was Tab, she couldn’t help wishing it was Ty.
His eyes were fevered in the silver light. They bored into hers and then moved to study her body. The warmth of arousal was in her blood as his gaze centered on her breasts. His eyes dropped still lower and she was suddenly glad that she had shaved that morning.
He took a step into the room and the odor of gasoline entered with him. He stopped at the edge of the bed, still staring at her.
“Do you know what I’d do if you weren’t my step-sister?” he asked.
She reached down to where the sheet lay and clutched it with one hand.
“Don’t.” His tone was strangled as though he were warring with himself. “Pretend it’s him. Pretend I’m Ty.”
Her hand wavered.
He sat on the edge of the bed and leaned forward. His lips were close to her, so close.
The ache of desire filled her once more and instinctively she arched her back. It would be easy to slip her arms around his neck, to draw him close.
It would be easy to lie.
With a gentle shove, she pushed him away and shook her head.
“I can’t.”
His eyes were wild in the moonlight and for an instant, cold dread filled her. She was unsure of whether he would take no for an answer.
He turned away from her and rose off the bed. Without a word, he left the room.
Chapter 6
The next day, Rose got up before the dawn. Tab lay sprawled across the couch. His shirt sat balled up on the floor as he snored peacefully. In the cold light of day, he appeared handsome in a way that was all his own. There was an edge to him that stirred desire and she reflected on this before going into the kitchen.
Unlike the rest of the house, the kitchen was a mess. Dishes filled the sink and empty beer bottles lined the counter. An unidentifiable fungus flourished in a bowl behind them.
Rose checked the refrigerator and discovered it to be stocked with beer and little else. The keys to her car were on the counter and she picked them up.
“Rose?” The word was sleep-slurred.
She walked into the living room. “Yes?”
Tab’s eyes were shut. He breathed deeply in his slumber.
“I…” he mumbled.
Rose froze. His eyes were still closed. They moved rapidly behind his eyelids as he dreamed.
She crept out the door.
There was a rust-colored smear on the left handle bar of the chopper. Rose inspected it, her heart rising into her throat. She walked back in the trailer.
Tab was on his back, still dreaming. His left hand was wrapped in a red bandana. Rose added antiseptic to the list she carried in her head.
She drove into Stockton and stopped by the hospital. Dixie was in the waiting room, fast asleep. Rose left her undisturbed.
A nurse was leaving Ty’s room when she reached it. She smiled as Rose approached.
“Could I see him?”
The nurse nodded. “Don’t stay too long. He needs rest.”
> Rose entered the room. Ty lay on the bed, his head elevated. He smiled when she entered.
“How are you?” she asked, taking his hand. The new day had improved his looks. The swelling in his right eye had gone down and the emerald iris was now visible within the ring of purple.
“I need a brew and a cigarette, but otherwise ok. Where’s Tab?”
“At home, sleeping. I just left him.”
Ty glanced up sharply.
“Where did you sleep?”
“In his bed.”
Ty’s eyes widened.
“He was on the couch.”
“Oh.”
“Were you worried?”
“No.”
“I used to sleep with you both when we were younger. Nothing ever happened.”
“We’re not little anymore.”
“Does that make a difference? It’s not like I’m trying to become a Biker Mama.”
“You wouldn’t survive the initiation.”
“Having sex with two guys wouldn’t be that hard.”
Ty didn’t answer her. He glanced around the room. “I need a cigarette.”
“I’m sorry I can’t help you there. I can’t help you with the beer either, but at least you have pretty nurses to look at.”
Ty’s expression soured. “Not my type.”
“What is your type? Tab likes the dirty girls, but I’ve never quite figured…yours out.” She could barely finish the sentence. “I bet you like—‘
“I like college girls.”
A sliver of elation pricked her heart and she gripped his hand with more force than she had intended. There was longing in him. A deep longing that she could read as easily as a page from a book. The longing matched her own.
He broke the spell by turning away.
“You’d better go now.”
“Ty—“
The nurse entered and announced that it was time for her to leave. Reluctantly, she pulled her hand from his.
“I’ll talk to you about it when you’re better.”
He didn’t answer.
Dixie met her outside the door.
“How is he?”
“He’s good.” Rose was dismayed by the quaver in her voice. Excitement was racing through her veins and she couldn’t contain it.
“You ok?” her mother asked raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah, just a little jittery this morning. You should go home, Mom, and get some more sleep.”
“I guess I will. Are you coming back tonight?”
“You can count on it. Just have to stop by Tab’s for a few hours.”
“All right. I’ll see you then.”
When Rose returned to the trailer, Tab, still shirtless, was sitting up on the couch having a smoke. He looked at the floor, his legs apart. A coffee mug stood between his feet.
“Where have you been?”
“Getting food. There was nothing to eat in here.” She began to empty the paper bag of its contents.
“Did you go to the hospital?” His tone was bitter.
She paused. “I did. Ty is much better. I’ll be going down there tonight.”
Tab flicked an ash into the coffee mug.
“Before I make breakfast, I’m going to fix that hand.”
He glanced at the makeshift bandage. “It’s fine.”
“You won’t think so if you get tetanus.”
Rose left the kitchen carrying a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, a roll of gauze and a tube of antibiotic ointment.
“Let’s go in the bathroom.”
“I said it’s fine.”
She dropped the items on the couch and took his hand. The bandana was stiff with crusted blood. She unwrapped it in disgust.
A long cut spanned the palm of his hand. It started to bleed a little as she finished unwrapping. “Look how red that is. It’s probably infected. Go in the bathroom and wash it. I’ll be in there in a minute. Good thing I picked up some butterflies.”
He rose to his feet and walked to the bathroom while she got the bandages. When she joined him, he was washing his hands.
“Let me see.”
He held up his hand with a certain amount of impatience.
“Better. Now, over the sink.”
He lowered the hand and she poured peroxide over it. The liquid bubbled and foamed. Tab winced.
Rose patted it dry, applied antibiotic ointment and then closed the deepest part of the cut with butterfly bandages. She wrapped the entire wound with gauze.
“How did you get this?” she asked.
“Knife.”
“Were you in a fight?”
“Yes.”
“Who with?”
“It was an accident.”
“Where did you guys go last night?”
“On a wild goose chase.” He tried to close his hand.
“Try not to flex it for a bit. You might break the wound open. If it gets that bad, I may have to sew it up.”
“You make a pretty fair doctor for a veterinarian.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re also very pretty.”
His body was blocking the doorway and there was no way she could get by. Over his heart, the tattoo of a skull grinned at her while it clutched a rose in its teeth.
He was close again and she felt her heart race. Her skin prickled as though unseen electricity passed over it.
He bent toward her and tasted her lips. She closed her eyes.
His kiss was hungry. Like a freight train, he forced her backward. She took a large step in that direction and promptly put her foot in the toilet.
“Wait, wait,” she cried, pulling her sopping sneaker from the bowl. He laughed. When she had withdrawn it, he moved toward her again.
She held up a hand. “No, not yet.”
He stood panting and uncertain before her. She dropped the cover on the toilet, then sat.
“I want you, Rose.”
She stared up at him. “You can’t have me.”
His shoulders slumped.
“Unless…”
“Unless what?”
“You quit this life.”
His brows furrowed. “Quit?”
“Yes. Stop this. Stop the fighting and everything. Stop now.”
“And do what? Work a job? Sell my bike and buy a house? You don’t seem to know what this means to me.”
“I think I do.”
“I’m important. I’m somebody wearing these colors. You’re asking me to be nobody.”
“No, I’m asking you to love me. And, I’m asking you to make a sacrifice that proves it.”
She rose. He made no effort to stop her.
Rose collected her things, leaving breakfast in the refrigerator and unmade. He walked out of the bathroom, but said nothing as she headed for the door.
She hurried out to her car and started it up. The Mustang’s engine roared to life, but Tab remained inside. She backed out of the driveway.
When she reached the highway she was crying.
Chapter 7
As Rose neared Stockton, she noticed the black SUV behind her. The Cadillac kept its distance but matched her speed. The driver was indiscernible behind the wheel. She glanced into her mirrors to gauge its progress. When she hit town, it disappeared.
She drove to Dixie’s house and used the spare key to get in. The modest suburban home was quiet and filled with memories. Unlike Tab’s trailer, the home was air conditioned.
Rose climbed the carpeted stairs to her mother’s bedroom and was faced by the photograph’s on the wall. Many were of the twins. Several were of her. They were all smiling.
She stood looking at the pictures for several seconds and then shook her head. They were all living a mirror life, and like Alice, she had stepped back through the looking glass.
Dixie was asleep. She lay in a pool of sunlight on her bed. Rose glanced about the room and a feeling of gloom overcame her. The place exuded loneliness even with her mother in it. She shivered and descended the stairs.
“Hello?”
No answer.
“Hello? Who is this?”
Click.
A warning bell went off in Rose’s mind.
She rushed upstairs to her mother’s room and began to rummage in the nightstand near the bed. Dixie opened her bleary eyes.
“What is it?”
“Maybe nothing. Is your .22 in here?”
Dixie rose and after a few seconds, produced the small pistol. She handed it to Rose.
The Smith and Wesson .22 didn’t possess much stopping power, but it was easy to carry and didn’t have much recoil. In the right hands, the pistol’s accuracy was deadly.
Though the grip was rubbery, the gun was cold and heavy in her hand. Rose carried it at her side as she descended the stairs. When she reached the last step, a knock came on the door. She halted.
The crisp sound came again. She swallowed as her heart jumped into her throat, then she crossed to the peephole and peered out.
“The car is out here,” someone whispered.
Two men dressed in black suits stood on the front steps. They weren’t undercover cops. For one thing, they were both wearing black, leather gloves. For another, no cop around Stockton could afford Gucci shoes.
She tip-toed back toward the stairs and pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. Tab’s number was the first she dialed. He didn’t answer.
Dixie was at the top of the stairs. Rose held a finger to her lips and motioned her to stay where she was.
A furtive noise came from the front door. Rose’s eyes widened. She had forgotten to lock it and the knob was turning. Her heart moved from her throat and into her mouth.
Rose raised the pistol as the door began to swing open. Her finger tightened on the trigger.
Tab stood in the doorway. He raised a hand when he saw her.
“Whoa, it’s me,” he cried.
She lowered the gun and rushed toward him. He caught her and held her close.
“Did you see them?”
“I saw the Cadillac follow you from my house and decided to trail them. I wasn’t surprised when they ended up here.”
“Where are they now?”