by Adair Rymer
“He's on his way, I mean.” I scowled, ignoring the comedian. I hated bikers.
Everyone was on their bike and ready when Hendrix finally came strolling out of the clubhouse, buttoning his pants.
“You well rested? We've got a fucking schedule to keep, shithead. Move your motherfucking ass!” Tex was barely keeping it together but everyone could tell how pissed he was.
Hendrix smiled and started his bike. “Are you saying we don't have time to stop for coffee? I'm already looking forward to prison.” He did what looked like a visual check over his bike, trying various connections listening to anything that might be slightly off. And otherwise delaying the ride further.
Despite myself, I couldn't resist thinking that his personal chaos was a little charming. His boots were untied, his clothing disheveled, he made no apologies and no attempt to rush. This was a man living at his own speed.
I reminded myself that I had been around vulgar, asshole bikers my whole life and wasn't interested in guys like him. But just as quickly, my brain sabotaged my resolve by adding that I'd never seen a biker quite like Hendrix.
Violence came easy to men like Hendrix; that part resounded loudly in me. It came easy to my father too. Finally clear headed, I thought of Anna, and what I needed to do.
“The fuck do you think? Mount up, your bike's fine. You're taking Princess. No more delays,” Tex's tone was so bitter that it was barely a shade removed from an outright growl.
“Safety first,” Hendrix snapped coldly. These two men really didn't like each other.
It wasn't until they started riding off that Tex's words pierced through my cloud of thought. I was riding with Hendrix? Crap. After this morning, I'd have rather ridden with almost anyone else. I made such a fool of myself around him.
Hate, I understood. I was prepared to feel a lot of that on this trip, but what I felt toward Hendrix was already more complicated than I cared to think about. I felt like I was already at a disadvantage somehow with him. I didn't like it.
“Don't worry,” he said, snatching my duffel bag from my shoulder and stashing it in one of his bike's side compartments. He packed the rest of his stuff and got on his bike. He tapped the seat behind him, the part I would be riding on, beckoning me to join him then winked at me. “I bite even less with my clothes on.”
He tossed me his helmet.
“Can I just follow you in my car?” I asked. There had to be some way out of this.
“You paid us twenty thousand dollars to drive unprotected in your own car?”
What? Twenty thousand dollars! My eyes almost shot out of my head. Panic set in as I tried to figure out what was he talking about. I didn't have anywhere close to that much money! Oh shit! It must have been Robbie! My god... Did he give them that much money just to convince them to take me?
A million more questions sprang to mind but Hendrix's expression was shifting from amused disbelief to outright suspicion. If I blew it now, would Robbie have wasted all that money?
“Ah yeah, obviously. Of course, that makes sense. I just uh, meant that maybe we could take my car instead. It might be more comfortable.” Jesus, I'm a lawyer! How was I not better at lying under pressure!
Hendrix studied me a moment longer before finally breaking the tension by saying, “I've been in a cage for five years, if you think I'm crawling back into another one just to cart you around you are out of your pretty little mind.”
“Hey... yeah, sorry.” I tried not to look at him as I put the helmet on and cautiously attempted to mount the bike. Immediately I tried to change the subject. “Is there anything I should— Dammit! Fuck! Ow.”
When I swung my leg over the side, the exposed skin of my calf slapped against something extremely hot. It was a warm day and I thought I'd be in a van for most of it so I made the mistake of wearing shorts. I jerked my leg away before any serious burn could set but it still hurt like hell and the quick motion tipped me hard to one side.
My weight shifted dramatically as my reaction threatened to throw me off the bike completely. I was so terrified to touch anything else on the motorcycle that all I could do was tense up and brace for the inevitable impact of the pavement.
Without looking, his large, rough hand snapped down on my thigh and steadied me. I exhaled as my racing heart dulled the sting of my leg. I was shocked at how strong and fast he was. I'd almost killed myself and we hadn't even started moving yet. First the pitiful lie then this...What the hell was I thinking? I wasn't up to this. I was so screwed.
In all the years growing up with and around the Blue Angels, I had never actually ridden a motorcycle. I stayed away from all that to the degree that I knew very little about motorcycles and which parts to avoid, apparently.
I didn't notice his hand sliding down my thigh until I felt the sandpaper of his palm on the flesh above my knee and down to my calf. My heart began racing again. He turned my leg over slightly to examine the burn. It was only a red spot. I suppressed the image of his naked form, trying to put it far out of my mind but I could feel the flush brighten and singe my cheeks.
“You're ok,” he said. His clamp-like fingers released one at a time then slid off me entirely.
“...yeah.” I felt stupid in every way possible but I was so glad that my slip-up about the money seemed to fall off his radar.
“See those pegs?” He had to yell over the super loud engine while he pointed them out to me. “Step on them. Your ass and your feet are the only things that touch this bike.”
“What about leaning and all that? What do I do with my legs and arms?” I'd heard that there was a proper way to sit and move your body so that the you didn't endanger or hinder the driver but I never really paid any attention to it because I never thought I'd be on the back of a bike.
“Have you ever had rough sex?” He asked, completely straight-faced, any hint of suspicion was gone.
“What?” I couldn't have heard him correctly.
“Have you ever had rough sex?” He repeated loudly.
I didn't want to answer him but he was treating it as a legitimate question.
“Yes.” I said, probably coming off more bashful than I would've like.
“Speak up, the engine's pretty loud!”
“Yes! Yes, I've had rough sex!” A few of the girls that were leaving the clubhouse turned to and either smiled or blew kisses. I couldn't believe I just screamed that in a parking lot. My face lit up like a Christmas tree. I hated how easy it was for me to blush. It betrayed all the emotions I'd rather not display but hell, I might as well have been wearing a flashing LED sign.
“It's a lot like that! Smash your hips into me as close as you can,” he palmed my lower back and did just that. His belt and thick denim ground the thin cotton-blend of my capris into pussy. A hot shiver ran up my stomach at the impact, snapping my eyes shut. I silently gasped in air and bit my lip, desperately trying to kill the steamy image of him stepping out of the shower, wearing a towel in all the wrong places.
“Then hold on for dear life.” The side of his head was cocked toward me when I opened my eyes. Oh god, how much of my daydream had he seen on my face! Too much, I decided, when I saw a creeping smile crease his lips. “And pray that I get off before you do.”
With a roar of an already obscenely loud engine, he jerked the bike forward, startling the hell out of me. Worried I might fall off again, I clamped my thighs and arms around him as tightly as I could. I couldn't hear it but I could feel his laughter through my death grip on his chest.
I was beginning to understand that Hendrix was such a special kind of bastard.
Within seconds, he'd put more speed and wind behind us than I'd been prepared to expect. I had to screw my eyes shut just to get my breathing under control. After a few minutes I felt comfortable that I wouldn't fly off into the stratosphere and opened my eyes. The helmet was extremely inefficient. It only covered the top of my head. Strictly to protect myself from the wind and Hendrix's whipping hair, I buried the side of my face into his shoulder and wat
ched the patched asphalt blur by.
Downtown Topeka stretched out before us like the weathered skeleton of a dinosaur. It's dusty, stone and brick ribcage enveloped us as we rode through.
Riding through Topeka made me remember why I loved St. Louis so much. Every city I'd been to had their own pulse. Some beat faster than others. The heart of St. Louis pumped hot, passionate blood with a quickened rhythm that, for me, was the epitome of diversity and change. Granted, not all of that change was good but it was always interesting; it was alive and had something to say, whether you wanted to hear it or not.
Topeka, on the other hand, felt as if it courted life support like a jilted resentful lover. Nothing here was new or invigorated, only repaired and tired and waiting for either innovation that would never arrive, or death. A city, that once might have had a purpose, but now was only standing for its own sake, so as to keep an otherwise empty stretch of highway filled with at least something.
It was a sad place that I never wanted to return to.
Once we hit the highway, Hendrix had sped us up to join with the rest of his MC. Cars we passed bled by so fast that it looked like they were driving in reverse. I was surprised at how little change I'd felt on the bike as he pushed us up to speeds I'd been too timid to try in my car. The engine roared a little louder, the wailing wind pitched a little higher, and we bent forward a little more but that was about it.
We passed Robbie in the van and fell in rank with the dozen or so other bikers then slowed to match their speed, which was surprisingly tame in comparison. Speed was the only thing about the menacing group of riders that was tame. They owned the road. Cars and other riders changed lanes to let them pass for fear of being crushed beneath the gasoline-fueled landslide of these vikings riding into battle.
The heat radiating from both the engine and, of course, the man in front of me cut the chill and edge of the wind to make for kind of a relaxing ride. Past my biases, I could begin to understand why people enjoyed this. I'd have understood it even more if the vibrations of the road and bike didn't make me have to pee.
The day melted away into blurred pavement and countless miles. I never knew which city we were currently in. It was all just one limitless road. I barely registered the shift from Kansas to Colorado. Our few stops for food and bathrooms were so quick that I couldn't steal away any time with Robbie without it looking too conspicuous.
I was trapped in my head at seventy miles an hour. I tried to stay focused on piecing things together with Robbie and all the questions I wanted to ask him. What happened to my mom? What was his relationship with her? Why he had disappeared?
Those cyclical thoughts and fears were interrupted constantly by simply being in the moment. As hard as I tried I couldn't push Hendrix out of my mind completely, it was impossible. Amidst the ebb and flow of the endless ride, my face pressed into his black vest. My arms and legs folded around his leather and denim wrapped steel form. I couldn't help but breathe him in.
Unconsciously, I lined myself up with the rhythmic, soothing rise and fall of his chest as he took in air. For hours, as the taillights became headlights, we breathed and moved as one person. I wore him on every level.
Despite how much I tried to drown it with rationality or experience, a crippling urge kept floating lazily to the surface. It wasn't enough. I cursed it but still I wanted more.
There was little denying it now. I yearned for it. For him.
Hendrix was an ex-con. No, he was currently a criminal! I didn't know what they were transporting but I was pretty sure it wasn't teddy bears. Hendrix personified everything I had spent my entire life trying to avoid. The seductive nature of the lifestyle.
It was easy to write off my father and the rest of his thugs because they were horrible in almost every way imaginable. Corruption and selfish greed incarnate. Of course I didn't want me or my sister around that kind of cancer!
Hendrix scared me. Not just because of his strength and the horrors that were in his potential. No, he scared me because I couldn't write him off like the rest of them. It was obvious he didn't want to be a part of whatever this illegal run was and he'd showed me an inkling of concern when I burned myself on the bike. If I was being honest with myself, I even had to recognize that he was walking away from that fight last night. Yes, he took it way too far but he didn't throw the first punch.
I knew that at least part of me was vilifying him to protect myself from giving him a chance. Was that wrong? No. I needed to. If I let myself fall for him, I'd be jeopardizing my future.
It was hard enough finding work in the legal system in a recovering recession, especially given my family history, which was something I spent years distancing myself from. Running from. My reputation would be destroyed if people found out that I was surrounding myself with a criminal element.
What would Anna think?
Denver came into sight like a dream. The blended swatches of stubborn blue sky slowly drowned in the celestial blood of dusk, which stood the skyscrapers on end like massive broken dominoes before the equally silhouetted mountain range.
Rocketing toward the brilliant glass giant, the evening lights of cars, streets and buildings spread like wildfire, making the city look like a glowing volcano of life in the growing dark. I was lost in a sense of awe, feeling appropriately microscopic in the scope of things.
I'd never been to Colorado before and for the life of me I couldn't figure out why. It was the most beautiful place I'd ever seen in person.
Chapter 4
Hendrix
The Lost Wild Boys opened their gate for us and we flooded in. I was surprised we were here as I didn't think we had any connections in Denver, and just figured we'd be crashing at a hotel. Miles filled me in that Loopy was from this club originally and, since we patched him in, the two clubs had been working with each other a little more.
The whole thing made me a little uneasy, but I chocked most of that up to my dislike of Loopy. Honestly, I didn't know these guys from a hole in the wall, they could be on the level. I'd have to feel them out to know for sure.
“We're here, hop off,” I told Maya.
“But you said—” She groggily protested. The girl was a trooper. That was a tough ride for anyone, let alone a passenger.
“I was just fucking with you, darlin'. Hop off.” I winked at her.
Her face soured as she peeled herself off the seat. I put a hand out for her to use as a counterweight. It'd help when she swung her leg over to dismount. She spitefully didn't take it. The girl was proud. I liked that.
“I need my bag.” She stretched and patted down the front of her wrinkled clothes.
“Yeah, OK.” I hopped off and stretched myself. I loved riding, especially after that court-mandated hiatus, but that first step off and the stretch afterward were almost as good as the ride itself. Every time I got off the bike after a long ride it felt like a day well spent, regardless of where I was heading or what I was doing.
I opened one of the saddlebags and handed Maya her stuff.
“Hey,” I said, after she grabbed the bag but before I let it go. “You did great today. That was a hell of a first ride.”
I gave her a small honest smile and let go of the bag. She looked me over cautiously, pulling her bag close to her. She was trying to gauge how genuine the smile and kind words were.
“I just saw Skids go inside. He'll take care of you,” I added so that we weren't just awkwardly gawking at each other.
“Thanks,” she said, slowly turning to head inside.
I could understand her confusion, but I meant it. It was a hell of a ride and I wasn't on my best behavior to begin with. I was still pissed and angry at the way everything went down that dragged me into this but that wasn't her fault. Being in prison for so long might have made me even rougher around the edges than I already was.
Hey, at this rate, soon I'd be foaming at the mouth and pissing on shit to mark my territory.
From that lie she told earlier, to cover up h
er surprise about the money she gave the club for the protection ride, I was certain that she mattered to Skids in some big way. I'm sure I could press either of them for details, but I trusted Skids. If he wanted me to know he'd have told me.
I found myself watching Maya work out a cramp in her thigh as she made her way to the clubhouse door to find Skids. I traced her with my eyes before I'd realized I was even doing it. There was something about that girl... I could watch her for hours.
Riding for hours on end like that put me in a familiar trance, it was what I imagined meditation must be like. It was one of those feelings that didn't exist anywhere else. When I needed to clear my head, I always just took off for a few hours and lost my troubles in burning rubber, smoke and wind. When I got home, I was an empty cup, ready to be filled anew.
This ride with her was different. All my pent up pain and rage was drained away like always. Though underneath all that were thoughts of Maya. Having her wrapped around me, I couldn't get her out of my head. A few times I'd repositioned her hands, not because I was uncomfortable or because it was making it difficult to ride, but because I just wanted to touch her. To feel her silky skin not marred by track marks or shitty tattoos.
Maybe prison made me soft. I chuckled. Soft with rough edges, my hypocrisy knew no bounds. Maya dropped her bag and bent to tie a loose shoe. Her shorts matted invitingly against her ass and her shirt rode up just enough for the club's harsh exterior lights to shine off the bare golden skin of her back. The muscles in my lower stomach tightened. I squeezed my bike's handlebar to force some of my blood from going directly to my cock. At least prison didn't make me want to fuck any less.
“Junk, man, you alright?” Miles asked on his way in.
I watched her slowly arch her spine, exposing more skin, and glance back at me. She knew I wanted her. That I wanted her warm, wet, softness wrapped around me, wrapped around my cock. I wanted it so bad I could taste her. I wanted her sweaty and screaming. I wanted to rip those clothes off her and slam her up against the clubhouse wall.