Hard Rider (A Bad Boy Motorcycle Club Romance)

by Wild, Nikki

  Steven opened his mouth to retort but, after one glance at my eyes, he closed it again quickly.

  “So you showed her this, then.”

  Steven nodded.

  “And you made up some bullshit to make her go away?”

  “It wasn’t bullshit, Trent. What makes this girl different? You left her here the first chance you got. No money, no friends, and a backpack full of clothes. Leaving was her choice. All I did was lay out the facts.”

  “The facts?”

  “Everything I told her was true. You can believe that I filled her head with complete shit, but my job is to keep this train moving.”

  “My girlfriend isn’t some piece of dead weight to be cut loose,” I growled menacingly, advancing upon him.

  I was so furious that I hadn’t even realized the Freudian slip.

  “Well, you have your professional opinions, and I have mine,” Steven snarled with a slight hiss of pain. “All I know is, I did my job. You know, you’ve been a hock of shit since day fucking one. Always making shit difficult. You’re a real piece of work, Trent Masters. This is the worst fucking gig I’ve had in years! And I represented The Spitting Pigs, drug-fueled orgies and all!”

  I grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him close, one last time.

  “Steven…where is she.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Wrong answer,” I replied, wheeling my fist back.

  “No! No! Wait!”

  He feared for his life now.

  “What?”

  “Seriously! I don’t know! She wouldn’t tell me! She wouldn’t even let me see the ticket! I just gave her some cash. I have no idea where she is!”

  “Think,” I commanded.

  Steven held up his hands.

  “I don’t know! She never said!”

  My fist trembled. It was ready to strike.

  He called out in fear: “It’s not just me!”

  I paused, letting that sink in.

  “…What.”

  “I mean. It wasn’t my idea!”

  I hesitated furiously.

  “You’d better start talking, and now.”

  “Waylon and Dylan, it was their idea. Waylon’s been pissed every since you brought the bitch into the bus. They’re already talking about replacing you. I’m doing you a fucking favor, Trent.”

  He looked so absolutely fearful that I couldn’t help but believe him…and that only made me angrier. He saw the venom in my eyes and recoiled in terror, his hands up.

  “Wh-wh-what are you doing?”

  “Taking out the trash,” I smiled evilly.

  After roughing him up across my living room and knocking him out, I carried him outside over my shoulder. I strolled over towards the line of trash bins outside, contemplating throwing him into them as one last fuck you.

  Nah.

  No reason to piss off the garbage crew.

  Instead, I tossed him to the curb and told him to get the fuck out of here. Brushing my hands, I pulled out my phone.

  There were some calls to make.

  I needed a plane and a car.

  There was only one lead to follow.

  I hoped with all my heart that it would be enough to track her down.

  Angel

  At least half a day before Trent would be back home, I was already back out of the bus and quietly, miserably waiting at my destination.

  And that life, as I knew it, was long gone.

  I only had to wait at the bus station for about two hours before Mom showed up, pulling up in her battered, ancient sedan. It wasn’t surprising to me to see that it was still marked with dings, dents, and a crumpled backseat door.

  “Angel! Good lord, girl, I thought I’d never see you again!”

  Proudly boasting ratty, unkempt hair and loud makeup choices, Mom gave me an awkward car hug as I climbed into the passenger seat.

  “Where have you been all this time?” She suddenly demanded to know.

  “I think I was staying…with a friend, or something,” I told her reluctantly. “Nowhere near here. The last little while, I’ve been living with…well, I guess it’s not really important.”

  “I see,” she nodded, kicking us into reverse and peeling out from the bus station. “All that really matters is that you’re back now. God, Angel, I was so worried about you these last years, I had no idea if you were dead or alive…”

  “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”

  “Then maybe you should have considered not running off in the middle of the night,” she sternly lectured me. “What the hell were you thinking, disappearing into the dark? I searched for you for days! Weeks! Months! We put out a report and everything!”

  I found that odd, especially since I’d only really been a few hours away. Granted, it was the middle of nowhere, so maybe the report didn’t make it out there?

  Mom briefly turned to me, a sympathetic look on her face. “Why did you leave, honey?”

  I shook my head.

  “Now’s not the time,” I whispered, trying to change the subject.

  “Well…just stay with me for now, and we’ll get you taken care of…won’t we, dear?”

  “Okay, Mom,” I nodded. “So… What happened to Roger?”

  Panic seized my chest as I uttered his name, as if he’d jump out of the shadows at any second.

  “Like I said on the phone, we got separated a few years back,” Mom smiled at me with freshly whitened teeth. “It hit him pretty hard when you ran away… Especially after all the time he spent helping you in the hospital. The man was in a panic.”

  I bet he was… I thought to myself.

  “He…he isn’t still in town?”

  “No, sweetheart,” Mom said. “I’m sorry. We fell out of touch. Haven’t heard from him all year.”

  My panic began to settle down.

  “Okay…” I said quietly, trying not to alert her to my fear. Mother would blame herself if she ever knew the truth…

  “Mhmm,” she nodded, steering us onto the highway. The sun was setting, and there weren’t too many cars on the road.

  “Listen…I’m sorry to call you up, out of nowhere,” I tried to tell her. I felt compelled to apologize. “I know that it’s a lot, asking for help out of the blue…”

  “No, no, not at all,” Mom reassured me. “I’m just so happy to have you back. You have no idea. A mother should never be separated from her daughter when they need each other.”

  I thought on this, and a silence developed between us. Mom took the time to turn on the radio, flicking through a few stations.

  I caught a brief snippet of Wicked Wilds as she flipped from signal to signal, and it made my heart sink.

  Oh, Trent, I despaired to myself.

  If only we could have been together.

  I miss you so fucking much.

  “Ah, here we go,” Mom chuckled, settling on a contemporary country station. Immediately, the twang of a wailing, energetic acoustic guitar sang out, accompanied by the rich but depressed voice of a rugged cowboy singer.

  “Down by the bayou, I saw you last / Beer in my hand, the past in the past / On one fine hell of a winnin’ streak / We made love by the river’s creek…”

  Turning away from Mom to gaze out the window at the dark, sailing trees, I let myself finally experience the weight of the choice I’d made.

  I did this for you, Trent, I thought to myself.

  But it didn’t stop the tears from falling.

  It was a couple of hours later before we arrived back home in our tiny little stain on the wooded Alabama wilderness. The familiarity of the small bridge over the tiny river – the single decent landmark here – awoke the faintest wisps of childhood memories…

  I could almost see it. I experienced a small barrage of scattered visions in the shattered glass of my life before the accident.

  Skipping and playing through the trees.

  A solitary school bus, pulling up by the bridge every morning �
�� bringing the kids a town over for elementary school.

  A time before I knew of mountains and oceans.

  Before I knew of great castles and bustling metropolises.

  I swallowed the tension that appeared in my throat. This was a place that I never liked to dwell on, and it was the place to which I had resigned myself.

  I was going to live here again.

  No friends.

  No job.

  No nothing.

  As if reading my gloomy mind, Mom chirped up. “Oh! My disability check should be in the mail again any day now. Until then, I’ve got some food in the fridge you can have. I picked up your favorites when I knew you were coming…got you some of those juice popsicles you used to like so much, some cherry Pop-Tarts, some Lunchables…”

  “Mom, I never liked those popsicle things,” I told her. “And what about stuff like bread, or vegetables, or fruit? Can I go get some of that?”

  “Nonsense!” She smiled toothily. “We’ve got some bread at home, some peanut butter…no jelly, though…and I think I still have some grapes or something. Let’s wait for that check, and then we’ll take a look at what we can get you.”

  “Wait…did you say that you collect disability now?”

  She glared at me.

  As if I’d questioned her moral integrity.

  “Of course I collect disability. My knees are so weak, I can barely get anywhere! Always hobbling around, I’d fall and hurt myself otherwise! And without that son of a bitch ex-husband of mine, I’ve got to support myself some way!”

  I snuck a discreet glance down at her legs.

  They looked fine.

  “Okay, Mom,” I smiled faintly. “I’m sorry that I offended you. And thank you. For getting me, and everything else.”

  “Of course, dear,” Mom sweetened slightly, pulling into our drive. We scattered gravel as we drove past concealing trees and foliage, finally exposing the green, barely livable, large shack of a house. “Anything for you, my sweet darling.”

  I was wrong earlier.

  THIS is when I resigned myself to my fate.

  Well…at least Roger’s not here.

  It was the only solace that I had now.

  Trent

  There was only place I could think to look for Angel, and that was where I’d met her.

  The last time I was in Alabama, I’d been reduced to the resources that my tour had provided me with. Namely, we were given access to a sleek pair of fresh but ultimately cumbersome jeeps.

  Not this time.

  This time, I rode in style.

  It was just the way I liked it.

  I revved the handlebar of the motorcycle, feeling the engine rumble with satisfaction between my thighs.

  This was the way to do it.

  As I whizzed between cars on the interstate, whipping from lane to lane, I kept an eager eye out for the proper exit. At my last stop, I’d paused to re-evaluate the directions, and I knew my turn was coming up soon.

  But not just yet.

  Which gave me time to think.

  Steven had crossed the fucking line. He had been a self-righteous loser and a pain in my ass from the start, but now he had interfered with my personal life.

  And now, here I was.

  Cleaning up his fucking mistakes.

  Taking back what was rightfully mine.

  And there had been co-conspirators.

  After everything that I’d done for them, half my band had turned on me. Everyone from the manager to the drummer had been a part of this.

  But not my bassist.

  Nice to know there was someone I could trust.

  I shook my head, clearing it for what was coming next. Because there were more pressing matters to attend to…

  There it is.

  Riverton.

  When we’d left in one of those silly jeeps, I thought that was the last time I’d see this backwater scrape of a town. Nestled serenely between the sticks and the ass-crack of nowhere, I figured that was that.

  Funny how life turns out, I guess.

  As I found my way onto the main highway through this boring little town, I felt my mind wander. I remembered what it felt like, feeling like I was covered with filth all the time. Dirty. Disgusting. A hideous creature, relegated to the shadows.

  The filth, burned off by the light… Angel was my light.

  I was drowning in brightness. Why the fuck did I leave her behind?

  You’ve changed me so much, I whispered in my head to her. I don’t care what it takes. I’m going to find you, and I’m going to bring you back.

  After a few minutes, the ramshackle bar came back into view. It looked even worse with no darkness to hide its decrepit nature.

  I crunched gravel beneath my tires. Stabilizing the motorcycle, I brought it to the side of the building, kicking down the support stand.

  Pulling off my helmet I heard the door creak open, then a pause. I could only imagine what was going through his head as I had my back turned.

  After a moment came the sound of mirthless, angry chuckling. “Of course it was fucking you,” rang out the defeated mutter of Old Greg.

  I hung the helmet from the handlebar, turning to face the crotchety old man. As I did so, I heard the click of his rifle, and gazed upon his furious, wrinkled form.

  “You have some fucking nerve coming back here, boy.”

  “I need your help,” I responded.

  He laughed, spitting into the grass. “My help? You took her away! You swooped out of fucking nowhere and you stole her away from me!”

  “She’s gone,” I replied, ignoring his rifle.

  Angel’s lost.

  I can’t die now.

  Maybe when I know she’s safe.

  “She’s…gone?”

  “You’re the only person who knew her,” I answered, holding my hands up – out of respect, rather than any fear. “I care about the girl. I’ve come here to find answers. I need to know what happened to her, and I think you know more than you’ve told her.”

  Old Greg’s eyes quivered with fury, but he slowly lowered the rifle. “I’ve told her everything, asshole. The problem is that she can’t remember any of it.”

  “Help me find her,” I pleaded. “Someone near me sent her away, alone and afraid. I’ve come to keep her safe. But I can’t reach her. Do you know where I can look for her?”

  He planted the head of the rifle against the floor, leaning on it disdainfully. He stared at me angrily for a moment, and finally sighed and shook his head.

  “You love that girl?”

  “More than life,” I replied, not a moment of hesitation in my voice.

  “I guess you’d better come inside, then. We have a lot to discuss if you want to find my granddaughter…”

  Angel

  It was mid-afternoon when I finally woke up.

  I don’t recognize this ceiling…

  And then I did.

  And I almost went full panic mode.

  But I settled down as I remembered the events of the previous day – of arriving at the bus station, of Mom picking me up and driving me back here…back where it all began.

  A shudder slipped through my shoulders.

  Reluctantly, I tossed off the threadbare scrap of a blanket, crawling off of the mattress on the floor. It was stiflingly hot and humid, and I didn’t like it.

  Rising up and looking at myself in the cheap mirror that had been pulled out for me, I realized that I looked like a total mess.

  Huge bags under my eyes? Check.

  Ratty t-shirt and a pair of panties? Check.

  Ragged, unwashed hair? Check.

  Don’t I just look like a fairy princess.

  I could hear scrounging about in the kitchen.

  “You finally awake in there?” My mom called out from a few rooms away.

  “Yeah, going to take a shower,” I replied back.

  “Go on, then!” She shouted.

  I stumbled over to the bathroom with a change of cloth
es, flicking on the shower. As I waited for the water to warm up a little more than arctic blast, I stared myself in the mirror.

  This is what life is going to be like, I told myself. At least for a little while. I can always find another way once I’ve got my footing. Maybe I can hitchhike out to the city and find myself a job waiting tables.

  I shook my head.

  The last time I pulled that stunt, I got lucky. Things could have ended up so bad… Like with those bikers back at the bar…

  Can I be lucky a second time? A third?

  I doubted it. I’d used up most of my luck living this long.

  Once the water was finally just warm enough to climb in, I settled into the shower. She only had a single bar of soap, so I tried to lather off the top layer before rudimentarily scrubbing down my body.

  I needed it. The thin layer of oil and grime came off.

  I’d only been in the shower less than ten minutes before the water starting turning bone-chillingly cold again. Shrieking and fighting the faucet, I hopped back out and dried off, then dressed myself in my underwear, a graphic tee, and my miniskirt. All I had were some of my old bartending clothes. At least I felt human again…

  I wandered into the kitchen, where my mom was watching her soap operas on a small countertop set.

  Mom glanced over at me and scowled.

  “You look like a hooker.”

  “It’s just hot in here,” I told her sadly.

  “Yeah, well, the A/C still ain’t fixed. Get used to being hot. Speakin’ of, you used up all my hot water, didn’t’cha?”

  “I wasn’t in the shower long, Mom,” I reassured her, moving towards the refrigerator.

  “Now how am I gonna shower?”

  “I thought you said you didn’t need it?”

  “Are you back-talking me?”

  Fearfully, I glanced over at her. Mom’s eyes were wide and calculating, and I was afraid that she was going to lash out at me.

  “No, Mom. I’m really sorry. It won’t happen again, I swear!”

  She glared at me furiously.

  Finally, she huffed with a cruel smile.