Hard Reality

by Debra Kayn

He'd gone to the bar with the others before they'd reached the legal age to drink. There were always women willing to go home with a biker for the night, no matter the age.

  "Well, do you want to eat?" asked Thad.

  He shook his head. "I'm going to sleep."

  Leaving Thad standing in the hall, he walked into the guest room and shut the door. Exhaling loudly, he shook his hands to dispel the tremors. He needed to get out to the garage and bring the box of alcohol up to the room.

  He got his opportunity an hour later when Thad stepped out the front door and used his phone. The box was easy enough to find because Gracie had marked the cardboard with the word WINE in big block letters.

  Back upstairs in the room, he grabbed a bottle, took off the foil wrapper, and found a pen on the nightstand, and started chipping away the cork. Ignoring the mess, he lifted the bottle to his lips as soon as he broke through the barrier and drank.

  He sat on the bed and spit out the shards of cork clinging to his lips. Already his body rewarded him. His blood no longer boiled inside of him and the tremors eased.

  Drinking more, he scooted back on the mattress until he leaned against the headboard and put his boots on the bed. The pain of being back around Notus, his club, the men he'd shed blood for, made his craving for alcohol bigger.

  The wine dribbled down his beard. He wiped his forearm across his lower face and continued to tip the bottle. He was a walking dead man.

  Komoon MC would never dump him away from the clubhouse without making sure he'd stopped breathing first. He looked down at his leg. Somehow, someone within Komoon had spotted the Notus tattoo he'd always kept covered and deemed him disloyal for keeping it once he joined Komoon. It wouldn't have been any of the men. He never took his jeans off for no man.

  He always made sure never to take his jeans fully off when he used one of the women tied to the club for the sole purpose of providing sex to the members. All he had to do was whip his jeans down past his ass and get to business.

  The only time he was fully naked was in his room at the clubhouse sleeping for the night or when he took a shower. Maybe they'd bugged his fucking room.

  He drank from the bottle and held it up, checking if he'd drained every drop. Rolling to the side of the bed, he grabbed another bottle. There were four left. It'd take that much to make him feel better.

  Maybe clarity would come when he emptied the box, and he'd know how to get the fuck out of St. John's.

  Chapter 4

  Incessant knocking broke through Gracie humming to the song that played low on the radio. She finished folding a pair of yoga pants. At her house, she never listened to music.

  "Coming." She hurried and opened the door to Wayne. "Hey."

  "Can I talk to you?" Wayne motioned down the hallway. "In the garage?"

  "Sure." She held up her finger. "Can I hang up a couple of my shirts, so they don't wrinkle?"

  "Yeah." Wayne walked off frowning.

  She peeked down the hallway. Over an hour ago, Glen and Chuck had come over to Wayne's house for a meeting. Far as she knew, they were all still in the garage. Catching sight of Clara walking out of her bedroom, she motioned her sister in.

  Grabbing two hangers, she returned to the bed, and when her sister was near her, Gracie said, "Do you know what is going on?"

  "With what?" Clara looked behind her. "I was on the phone with the Budweiser distributor changing our order for the bar."

  "Wayne came and asked me to go into the garage. They want to talk with me." She carried her hoodie and purple blouse to the closet.

  "I don't know. Maybe Rich is leaving, and you can have your house back." Clara sat on the bed.

  She looked over her shoulder at her sister. "Tired of me?"

  "Don't be crazy," said Clara.

  Gracie laughed. "Honestly, I want to go home. I'm starting to get homesick."

  Clara pouted. "I get it, but it's always nice when you're here."

  "During the day." Gracie carried a stack of her underwear and bras to the dresser. She'd stayed at her sister and Wayne's house so often over the last four years, one of the guest rooms officially became hers. But, the last two weeks away from home while the club dealt with Rich at her townhouse had pushed her into wanting her own bed and her solitude. "The nights are hard because I like to be able to walk around when I can't sleep, and I'm always afraid I'll wake up Wayne. He's such a light sleeper, and with his schedule, I feel bad if I accidentally wake him up."

  "I understand, and so does Wayne. You should never worry about bothering us."

  "I do, though." Gracie shrugged. "I'll go down and see what they want to talk to me about. Are you coming?"

  "No, I'm going to call Lena and see if she'll bring the baby over." Clara smiled. "Then, I'll try and talk her into letting me babysit next weekend."

  Baby Avi, Thad and Lena's little girl, was at the fun stage. Crawling and babbling, yet loved to be cuddled. Gracie walked out of the room and downstairs. Wayne had left the door to the garage open, and she stepped inside.

  Chuck waved her over. She approached the desk and looked at Glen, Chuck, and Wayne. "What's up?"

  "We're discussing how to proceed with Rich." Wayne leaned back in the chair and latched his hands behind his head. "We also wanted to thank you for letting us push you out of your house. We never thought it would be for this long."

  She would do anything for Notus. They'd saved her life. If they told her they wanted to turn her home into a clubhouse or bulldoze it down, she'd hand over the keys without any question because she knew without a doubt, they'd take care of her afterward.

  "You know I'll help you any way I can," she said.

  Wayne's gaze softened. "We've hit a crossroad."

  Chuck walked away from the desk and turned his back. She studied him, knowing him well. He had a habit of closing himself off from any type of conversation that had to do with Rich.

  "What do you mean?" she asked Wayne, glancing at Chuck again, begging him to turn around so she'd know what bothered him.

  "Rich is an alcoholic." Wayne paused. "We thought to clean him up and find out why he showed up in St. John's, but over the last two weeks, every time we turn around, he's found more alcohol in the house, and he's refused to talk."

  She swallowed and sagged forward in the chair. "Rich asked me where I kept alcohol a week ago."

  The others remained silent.

  "Wait. Hang on. If it were one of you asking me for something stronger than water, I'd tell you where to find a drink." She sat straighter, defending what she'd done. "I didn't know he had a problem."

  Wayne shook his head. "There was also whiskey in your utility room."

  She cocked her head. "No, I don't..." Groaning, she blew out her breath. "That's from the bar. We discontinued ordering that brand. It's a little too high of a price for our regular customers. I brought the bottle home in case we did a private party that requested the same brand. It cost almost two hundred dollars a bottle, I just thought—"

  "It's all gone." Glen sat down in a nearby chair. "We swept the house. It's clean now."

  She nodded. "That's fine. I don't care about the alcohol."

  "That's not our problem with Rich anymore." Wayne lowered his arms and rubbed his face, taking the time to straighten his beard. "We need him to talk. If afterward, he wants to go back to drinking, that's on him. But, we need him sober and willing to tell us what is going on so we can find out why he's here. He didn't come back for us."

  "Maybe it's enough that he is here," she whispered. "He might not want to talk about what he's been doing for the last twenty-five years. He's alive, and that's a good thing. But, he's his own man, and he might've picked a different way to live his life than with Notus Motorcycle Club."

  "Bullshit." Glen crossed his arms. "Once a Notus member, always a brother."

  She understood the sentiment, but things happened in life that could change someone's opinion. Her chest squeezed in empathy for the men. It was unfair of them not to cons
ider that Rich had a change of heart or that life's circumstances had changed their MC brother. But, it wasn't her place to say more. She'd already said too much.

  For how much every member of Notus treated her like a part of the family and loved her, she understood that business between the men and the missing person searches they worked on were private affairs. She suspected and assumed a lot, but those suspicions would never escape her lips.

  "We'd like to ask you a favor." Wayne scooted forward on the rolling chair and braced his elbows on his knees, bringing himself closer to Gracie. "You can tell us all to go to hell for asking if you want."

  "I guess that would depend on what you want from me." Gracie reached out and squeezed Wayne's arm, trying to lighten the heavy mood in the garage. "If it has to do with sending food from Vavoom's to my house for longer than you anticipated, consider it already done. You don't even have to ask."

  Chuck turned around, his hard gaze nailing Gracie. "He wants you to move back home and let Rich stay with you."

  "What?" She pressed against the back of the chair and laughed uncomfortably. They had to be kidding. She'd seen Rich. She'd met him, pretending to be Clara. There was no way she'd be comfortable within fifty feet of him, even if every Notus member stood in front of her. "You're kidding, right?"

  "Rich refuses to talk to us." Wayne's voice lowered. "He barely says a word without any drink in him."

  She stood from the chair, feeling claustrophobic with big, male bodies pressing in on her waiting for an answer. "Why would you think he'd talk to me?"

  "Because you're a woman." Wayne inhaled deeply. "You're the only female Notus would ask because we trust you."

  She pressed her hand to her chest. No way would she be able to live in the same house with a stranger. A questionable stranger that scared her on their initial meeting.

  "I still work at Vavoom's," she said, believing her rapid heart rate echoed in the garage.

  "Part-time and Clara could handle things at the bar for a while. We could bring the books and whatever you need to keep the business running to the house for you." Wayne clasped his hands together and rubbed his thumbs back and forth. "If you could change your schedule and wait until evening when we're off work, someone could stay with him, and someone else could escort you to the bar to do your bookwork."

  He should've said she was the only single female associated with Notus. She studied the others. None of them trusted their wives to be alone with Rich? Was it because of him being dangerous or did they expect someone to seduce the secrets out of Rich?

  Chuck stepped forward and placed his hands on her shoulders. "We don't know the man Rich is anymore, but I'd stake my life on it that he won't hurt you."

  "You don't know that," she whispered, unable to comprehend how Chuck, of all people, would promise her that. "What are you asking me to do?"

  "Just be there, listen to him if he talks, and let us know what he says." Chuck's fingers squeezed down on her. "We're going to give him some freedom to relax. He can't do that when one of us is watching his every move and keeping him sober."

  "He'll leave," she said, hoping at that moment Rich already escaped her house and got away from Thad, who had stayed behind to guard him.

  "He can't. We've got his motorcycle here. If you go home, we'll drop you off. That way your car is here, and he won't have any access to a set of wheels." Chuck's mouth softened. "I know you can do this, sweetheart. You're strong, Gracie."

  Chuck always protected her. She pulled away from him. Now he was willing to throw her to a wolf under the name of Notus?

  Each one of them had proven their trustworthiness to her. They risked their own lives to save her, and they made her world safer when they killed the serial killer that was going to rape and murder her. They'd comforted her, sheltered her, provided for her over the last four years while she tried to overcome what had happened to her.

  Not once had they ever asked her to change or get better or step out of her comfort zone. The others had babied her, while Chuck forced her to take charge of her life again and found ways that made her more comfortable. She still wasn't where she was before the abduction, but she was living, and she had hope that one day she'd put the nightmare behind her.

  If it hadn't been for Chuck, she'd be incapacitated in more ways than one.

  "I-I'll try," she whispered. "I can't promise that he'll talk to me. I'm not that good with people I don't know."

  "That's all we're asking of you. Stay with him and be around in case he starts talking. If for any reason you want to leave or have us get him out of your house, it'll only take one phone call and we'll be there within five minutes." Wayne turned and nodded at Glen and Chuck. "You guys take her over and make sure she's comfortable before everyone leaves."

  While Wayne continued to give orders to the others, Chuck walked her into the house. "You'll be okay."

  "You can't promise me that," she said, dreading going home, when only a half hour ago, she wished she could go back to the house. "I'm probably going to lock myself in my bedroom."

  "Nobody will fault you for staying away from him. Only do what you're comfortable doing, and if that's staying in your room or just keeping an ear out in case he walks out the door, and you can give us a call to let us know, we'd appreciate it." Chuck stopped her from going upstairs. "If you find you can't do it and need me, call. I'll come and spend the night on the couch. No questions asked."

  She shook her head, knowing his girlfriend would let him but she would never force him into choosing her over his woman. "Erikka—"

  "She'll understand." Chuck dropped his hand. "Go get your things. I'll take you over in Wayne's truck, so we can take all your stuff back."

  She walked up the stairs. Her body, strangely heavy and clumsy, moved ridiculously slow. Holding on to the rail, she looked up, knowing she'd have to explain things to her sister first before she went anywhere. Her head pounded. Even before her abduction, she'd lived a safe life, never putting herself in harm's way and making sure she was never alone.

  Tonight, she'd be truly alone with a man who could be dangerous, and because the others needed her to succeed, she was scared.

  Chapter 5

  The doorbell rang breaking the suffocating silence of the townhouse. Gracie grabbed the cash off the bed and hurried across the room, throwing her bedroom door open, and running down the steps. Aware of Rich on the couch watching television—where he'd stayed since she'd come home two hours ago—she looked through the peek-hole and unlocked the front door to the pizza delivery man.

  "You ordered one large supreme on a pan crust?" asked the young man.

  "Yes." She handed him the money. "The tip is included."

  She took the hot box, stepped inside, and kicked the door shut. Balancing the pizza against her hip to free her hand, she locked the deadbolt, then hurried to the kitchen. In a rush, she took out two plates, loaded them both until she couldn't fit any more pizza on the surfaces, and carried the plates to the living room.

  She set dinner in front of Rich on the coffee table. "If you need more, there's half a pizza in the kitchen on the counter."

  Without waiting for him to answer, she carried her plate to her room and locked herself inside. She had no idea if Notus members expected her to cook or order food for Rich. After all this time, the food in the fridge would need to be thrown out, and since nobody brought food over, she ordered in for them.

  Going by the amount of trash in the kitchen garbage can, they'd all supplied Rich with take-out food for the last two weeks.

  She stared at the greasy cheese. Not that she was hungry. She only knew that she needed to eat to keep all her sensibilities about her. If she let herself get distracted, something awful could happen.

  Her eyes stung. She expected something to happen. Every second, every minute, she sat tense and ready to run for her life.

  She hated living that way. She hated that Notus put her in the position to face her fears. She hated that the man sitting in her livi
ng room pushed his way into her life. Rich had interrupted every bikers' life, their women, and baby Avi's life. While she understood their position, she couldn't find any empathy for Rich.

  There were times, like now, when she hated Rich for the pain and damage he'd left behind in the people she loved when he'd selfishly left St. John's all those years ago. From an outsider's view, Rich should be the one making amends and bending over backward to make up for everything he'd put Notus through.

  She picked up a piece of pizza. There were times she wanted food from another place than the bar. She'd purposely bought one of her favorite things to eat because she needed to tempt herself into having an appetite.

  Taking a bite, she willed the flavor to spark energy back into her while trying to put her life into order. She had her bedroom with a lock that rivaled the deadbolt on the front door. Chuck had made sure she could sleep, knowing no one could open the door. She swallowed, her stomach cramping as the grease from the crust set heavy in her. She also had her purse hanging from her neck and dangling at her side and her second pistol on top of her nightstand where she'd put it when arriving at home.

  She was almost as safe as if she'd stayed at Wayne's house. The only thing she lacked was people around her.

  Her head refused to believe common sense.

  She could overcome the panic. The panic wouldn't control her.

  Another bite of pizza became a minor victory. Beside her, the cell phone dinged. She glanced at the screen and read the text as another one came through.

  Chuck: Checking in. Ok?

  Clara: Update me, sis. Love you.

  She looked around for a napkin and realized she'd forgotten to bring one up with her. Hopping off the bed, she walked into the bathroom and washed her hands, drying them on the towel. The small connection with her support people helped settle her stomach, and she answered their texts.

  And, she lied about how she was doing.

  The others had bigger things to worry about, and she was fine. Realistically, she knew she was safe.