DAMON: A Bad Boy MC Romance Novel

by Meg Jackson

  “Where are we going?” I remember asking in the dream. I looked down; I was suddenly naked, the hot leather of the seat pressing and buzzing against my clit, my thighs shaking, my slit wet. The driver turned to me. It was, of course, Boon. Who else could it have been?

  In that special way that dreams have of making no sense and total sense at the same time, he turned all the way in his seat but still managed to keep the bike running down the long, straight road. He was still wearing the cop’s hat but was otherwise naked, as well. Even in a dream, I could recreate every inch of his toned, hot body. My hands flew to his chest, tracing the two guns tattooed on his pectorals. I leaned forward, feeling his flesh under my lips as my hands traced down, down, his long, triangular torso, lower, lower…

  And then his hands were on my arms, gripping me tightly, almost too tightly, as he pulled me upwards, our eyes meeting in a moment of singular intensity.

  “The cliff,” he said, releasing one of my arms to cup my face and draw me close to him, our lips growing nearer and nearer. The dream slowed down, but the bike didn’t, and I saw, over his shoulder, the horizon suddenly falling away as the road ran off into nowhere: we were, indeed, approaching a cliff, and would soon drive right off it.

  Even as I saw this, my lips were drawing close to Boon’s, tantalizingly slowly, my dream-self crying out in anticipation, until we met, mouths parted, and the sky broke open into forty million pieces and the bike ran off the cliff and we were falling together, tongues entwined, flesh dancing, tumbling down and down into the abyss…

  I woke to a sound that could almost have been rain: plink. Plink. Plink.

  I rose to my elbows, shaking my head, lost in a post-nap fugue. I felt sweaty, clammy, and uncomfortable: I’d fallen asleep in my tank top and shorts but still felt like I was overheating in my bed. The noise continued, and I realized it was coming from my window. Plink. Plink. Plink.

  Getting up to investigate, I saw what was causing the noise: tiny rocks hitting my window. My heart skipped a beat. Legends tell of boys performing such strange rituals in the hope of attaining the favor of a lady…Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?

  “Samantha! Get your ass up!”

  Nope. Alicia, wherefore art thou Alicia.

  “Holy shit, Alicia, we’re supposed to be sneaky here,” came Becky’s voice in a loud whisper. I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself as I threw the window open. They were standing on my lawn, hands full of pebbles, and both looked up at me as I popped my head out.

  “Guys, you could have just texted me,” I said in a stage whisper, not wanting my parents to hear.

  “Go get it,” Alicia said, making a shooing gesture at Becky, who promptly ran from the lawn towards the street.

  “What are you guys doing?” I asked, leaning forward further to try and see where Becky was going.

  “Jailbreak, baby,” Alicia said. “We’re going to get your man!”

  “Shhh! Oh my God, no, I can’t! And why are you screaming? My parents will hear!” I called out, trying to be loud enough for Alicia to hear me while still being quiet enough for my parents not to. Suddenly, Becky’s shadow fell across the lawn, accompanied by…something else. She reappeared, clearly struggling, carrying a huge ladder. I hit my forehead with my palm.

  My friends are beautiful, beautiful morons, I thought to myself, not quite believing that the girls had actually thought this scheme was a good idea. I can just imagine the conversation:

  “We’ll sneak her out of her bedroom with a ladder and whisk her away to the hotel where her leather-clad admirer is staying and then he’ll ride off into the sunset with her on the back of his bike and we’ll be the maids of honor at their wedding and she’ll have a billion babies and we’ll help her raise them all and date his hot friends.”

  “Yes, amazing plan, that will definitely work.”

  This had to be mostly Alicia’s idea. A grand, ridiculous, teenage cliché like this could only have been cooked up by a mind as dramatic as hers. Becky probably figured out the logistics. I had to suppress a laugh as they struggled with the ladder, trying to anchor it safely in the ground and lean it against my window.

  “You could help, you know,” Becky called up. I realized I was just watching them dumbly and leaned out more, grabbing the top of the ladder and pulling it towards me. The sound of the metal against the side of the house should have been enough to get my parent’s attention even if the girls’ loud voices didn’t.

  But it wasn’t like I could turn back now: the ladder was set up, Becky and Alicia were waiting, and after the dream I’d had I couldn’t imagine spending the rest of the night in my room. Clamoring out the window, heart racing, fear of heights kicking in, I could only think one thing: shit.

  I drew myself down the ladder slowly, putting one foot behind the other, only panicking once (I was pretty proud of myself, considering I once had to be helped down the high dive at the local swimming pool).

  When my feet hit the grass, I nearly fell over with relief. We all stared up at the ladder as it reached up the side of the house.

  “Do we just leave it here, so I can get back in?” I asked, slightly out of breath. Alicia shrugged.

  “I guess,” she said.

  “Um, no, morons. What do you think your parents will think if they see a ladder on the side of the house reaching up to your window? You did lock your door before coming down, right? They’re supposed to think you’re sleeping,” Becky said, rolling her eyes. I bit my lip and shook my head.

  “I didn’t really think to do that…” I said. “You guys kind of totally surprised me, you know.”

  “Okay, okay, fair enough. Alright, one of you hold the bottom for me,” Becky said with a groan. She started climbing up; Becky had never been afraid of heights. Becky was afraid of a lot of things: getting arrested, dying alone, being mugged in an alley, failing her classes…but, when it came down to it, Becky could be downright courageous when the situation called for it. Alicia and I watched her climb up the ladder quickly and slip through my still-open window.

  “You guys know that you’re total psychos, right?” I asked, turning to Alicia, who gave me a wicked grin in return.

  “Um, no, we’re you’re best friends,” she said. “You’re the psycho. We’re just playing along because that’s what good friends we are.” I punched her, playfully, on the shoulder, but wrapped her in a hug right after. We swayed in the embrace, both knowing that I would do the same for her if the situation called for it.

  “Okay, okay, I’d be jealous but we have miles to make, ladies, let’s go,” Becky said, hopping off the ladder. “Your door is locked, your parents never have to know you’re gone. Now help me hide this ladder.”

  We hid the ladder in a far corner of our property, and in the darkness it was really hidden. Becky had driven over in her little Saab so we piled in, me in front and Alicia in the back.

  “Cord,” Alicia said, thrusting her hand through the seats.

  “No way, you don’t get to pick the soundtrack,” Becky scoffed.

  “Um, I’m sitting in the backseat and NOT complaining about it, so, please, cord,” Alicia repeated, making a grabbing motion with her hands. Becky sighed and passed back the cord that attached to the car’s stereo. It all reminded me of how we’d been right before leaving for Vegas: excited, happy, so totally unaware of what the future awaited us. I guess, in retrospect, this was a little like a road trip, too: it wasn’t nearly as long, but I definitely wasn’t going to come back the same girl I went in.

  “This one is for all the star-crossed lovers out there, and to all the ships at sea,” Alicia said in a mock-grandiose tone. I groaned as the song started playing. It was Dolly Parton, “Touch Your Woman.”

  “Really, Alicia? Could you get a little more obvious?” I asked, turning back to her. She shrugged, a grin on her face.

  “You guys! Stop teasing me! You know I’m a sucker for this stuff,” she said.

  “What’s the address?” Becky asked, all busines
s. I read the address from the cover of the matchbook and watched as she plugged it into the GPS. It was outside the city, on the entirely other side. It was about a 45 minute drive.

  “Off like a herd of turtles,” Alicia said from the backseat. And so we were.

  19

  It wasn’t necessarily easy getting the night clerk at the motel to give us Boon’s room number, but it also wasn’t as difficult as it should have been. I guess three young, beautiful girls have some sort of power over elderly, overweight night clerks at sleazy highway motels. He wrote the number down and slipped it across the counter, begging me not to do anything that would make him regret it.

  We drove around the motel, twice, before parking near his room. We went around twice, mainly, to give me time to stop panicking. He hadn’t answered my text; I’d tried to call him again on the road, but his phone went straight to voicemail again. I was a total wreck.

  My hand was shaking as I raised it in a fist and knocked on the door. The do-not-disturb sign swung on the handle. Somehow, the solid sound of my fist against the door calmed me down: it brought me back to the present, to reality, away from all the dangerous places my mind was trying to take me.

  “Fuck outta here,” Boon called from the other side of the door. He sounded like he’d been drinking. I knocked again. There was a crash, the sound of angry footsteps, and then the door swung open violently.

  “WHAT?” He screamed into my face. I flinched, bumping into Becky and Alicia behind me. I think some of his spit flew into my eye. As soon as he saw me, he drew back.

  “Shit,” he muttered, not quite under his breath. He swayed as he stood, holding the door open. He looked bad. Well, that’s a lie, he looked hot as hell in his ripped t-shirt and tight jeans. But he looked rather unhappy. And definitely drunk. I could smell whiskey on his breath, and peering behind him I saw a bottle of Jack Daniels sitting on the floor beside the bed.

  “I suppose y’all want to come in,” he said, slurring slightly. I was more than a little taken aback by this greeting; I understood he wasn’t expecting me, and I understood him screaming “what” in my face, but I’d hoped, after that, he’d warm up. At least seem…excited? Maybe this forbidden trip would be worth something, after all, even if it only proved he really was a jerk who didn’t deserve my time.

  “That’d be nice,” I said pointedly.

  “It’d be nicer if you were happy about it. C’mon, man, we went to a lot of trouble to get your girl here!” Alicia blurt out from behind me. I could have killed her. Boon’s eyebrows raised.

  “My girl?” he spoke the words slowly, looking me over, a change coming over him, softening his features. “I wish.”

  The sadness in those last words…I could never describe it. It broke my heart. Even Becky looked like she felt the weight. Boon stepped aside and we filed in. There was a single chair across from the bed, and I took it without invitation. Boon half-stumbled to the bed, sitting down like he was carrying forty pounds on his back. He reached down for the Jack Daniels, took a slug, handed it out to me. Impulsively, inspired by my growing anxiety, I took a swill, coughing it down. I put it down on the floor, out of his reach.

  Being in that room, though it was a far cry from the hotel he’d taken me to in Vegas, brought back a rush of passionate memories, of yearning that I’d buried. Just being close to him, even in his drunken state, made my heart beat quicken. His blue eyes drifted over me, my own longing reflected in them.

  “How did you find me, Boon?” I asked, not sure where to start. I figured that was as good a place as any. “And why?”

  “Your phone number. Sheriff’s daughter. I have high friends in places,” he said with a mirthless chuckle.

  “But why?” I pressed, not wanting to let the budding conversation lapse into half-hearted jokes. This was serious. This was my life.

  “Why? Why, why, why. You tell me. Aren’t you just another girl? Isn’t there nothing special about you at all? That’s what I keep thinking. That’s what I keep trying to think. It’s not working,” he said, rubbing his eyes with open hands, scowling.

  “Guys,” I said, turning to the girls. I raised my eyebrows and motioned towards the door. Things were going to get even more serious than they already were, and I assumed Boon didn’t want an audience.

  “No way. I’m sorry, but no way. I’m not going to be sitting outside in the car while…while who knows what goes on in here. Now, we brought you here, and you’re our responsibility,” Becky said, puffing herself up like a momma bear. I was embarrassed but knew there was no use in arguing.

  “Anything you can say to me you can say to them, Boon.” It was true, anyway; even if he swore me to secrecy, Becky and Alicia would probably manage to get it out of me, anyway.

  Boon looked doubtful, withdrawn. I turned back to the girls.

  “Sit down, will you? Jesus, you’re like cops standing behind me like that,” I said. Becky grunted and uncrossed her arms. They both looked around the room; there actually wasn’t any place for them to sit. I was in the only chair, Boon on the bed.

  “Come on, Papa Smurf,” Alicia said, plopping onto the carpet and pulling Becky down with her. “Comfy cozy,” Alicia said with a giggle that was far from appropriate considering the situation.

  “Please, Boon. I came here to listen to your side of the story,” I said, turning back to him. He still looked distrustful, on edge. I wished that the girls would leave but knew it would take a hurricane to move them: Alicia wouldn’t leave because she loved drama, Becky wouldn’t leave because she was basically a walking, talking ball of worry.

  “First, tell me,” Boon said with a sigh. “What did your father tell you?”

  “He told me about the cop, Giordino. About your mother and father…that he thought your father killed him. About the business your father was doing in town. About the murders,” I said, glazing over the details.

  “That cop was crooked, Samantha,” Boon said, looking up at me, his eyes belying a desperation for me to believe him. “He was helping my father, covering his tracks, for a cut of the profits. And it was all profit, Samantha. He was getting loaded off our dirty business. My dad’s dirty business.” I noticed how quick he was to push the blame onto his father.

  “I was just a kid. I didn’t know what was happening. I mean, I knew, I knew what we were doing, whatever it was, was wrong. I knew we were basically in hiding. I knew my mother was afraid. I knew my father didn’t give a shit about my mother.

  I remember when the cop came knocking on the door. Giordino slamming that door like he wanted to break it down. My father wasn’t there, was getting ice in the lobby. My mother was so afraid; there was almost nothing left of her at that point, just a bundle of fear and anxiety. That was all she was. The drugs my father pumped into her left her that way. She opened the door. He barged in, gun out, screaming for my father.

  I don’t know what he wanted. Probably more money before the operation shut down. I hid in the closet. I watched through the door. He pushed her, he pushed my mother. And all she was doing…she was trying to get to the money, a stash we kept in the room, in the bible. I saw her trying to get to it.

  And then he shot her. He shot my mother. Right in front of my face, Samantha, right there, I thought I’d never hear anything again, the sound was so loud, and she just…she smiled. She smiled, and the blood started coming out but she was smiling and I thought she’d be okay, I thought, she stood up, even, smiling, and then…”

  Boon trailed off, his voice cracking. I wished, fervently, that I’d forced Becky and Alicia wait outside. I didn’t want him to have to go through this in front of them. This was too much like how my father had sounded. Boon shook his head, coughed, gathered himself. He seemed considerably more sober than he had just a few minutes before.

  “And then my father came. Shot him right in the back. No questions asked. After that…well, then it was just the road. I blacked a lot out after that. Next thing I remember, I was in a different city, a different hotel,
staring at the ceiling, seeing my mother’s smile in the pattern on the ceiling. In the drapes. In the shadows from passing cars. It was everywhere. And I was alone,” Boon said, coming to an end. His eyes had dropped from mine, were staring down at his lap.

  “Jesus. H. Christ,” Alicia said from the corner. I snapped my head back to her, giving her a death glare to end all death glares. She covered her mouth with her hands and turned to Becky, who rolled her eyes and grabbed Alicia’s arm, pulling her towards the door.

  “Sammy, we’re gonna be right outside, okay?” I was thankful Becky was there to keep Alicia in line. It was obvious, at this point, that I was in no real danger from Boon, and that we needed the time alone. If Becky hadn’t been there, though, Alicia would have stuck around just to watch everything play out. The door closed quietly behind them.

  “And here it is, now, after all these years. You know, it’s fucked, Samantha. It’s really fucked. I finally…I met you. You were amazing, and beautiful, and you lived in the one place on earth I knew my father would never return to. I didn’t think anyone would recognize me. I thought I could disappear. I thought I could…”

  He seemed to lose steam as he spoke, deflating even more than he already was with each word. I reached out, not even thinking about it, and grabbed his hand. It felt warm in mine. It felt familiar, like I’d held it a million times before. He looked up at me.

  “Samantha, you’re not the only reason I came here. I mean, you are, the main reason. I could have gone a lot of places, I guess, but I chose here. For you. But…I want out. I love my boys, I love the club, but I can’t deal with my father anymore. He’s running it into the ground. He’s gone rogue. I want out before he really hurts someone. Before…before my mother, it was all pretty harmless. I mean, sure, drugs and money, but no one…no one got hurt hurt. Now it’s like…it’s almost like he’s trying to leave a string of bodies behind, no matter where we go.