Hard Reality

by Debra Kayn

  Telling him something the men of Notus had struggled with since Thalia's murder, knowing Rich had been in love with Thad's sister, broke her heart. There was no reason to protect Rich or hide the truth from him when it was obvious he needed closure as much, if not more, than all the others.

  Just as she had deserved to know the truth about her mother. No amount of her father's protection and hiding the crime to keep the truth from her and Clara while they were younger saved her from being hurt.

  Rich slowed and turned onto a one-lane asphalted road. She concentrated on feeling his heartbeat, which had raced when they'd taken off from Wayne's house, but the vibration of the bike camouflaged the beat.

  He rounded a corner, and suddenly the hillside broke away, and they were on top of a lookout, looking down at St. John's. The bike slowed even more and came to a stop. She held on to him, even when he shut off the engine.

  Her legs continued vibrating. Life seemed perilous and fragile as if she'd crumble if she let go of him.

  She'd gone on plenty of rides with Chuck and a few rides with Wayne, but they were always from the bar to the house. Short trips with a purpose.

  Rich kept on riding. She had no idea how long or how far he'd taken her. The sun hovered over the horizon in the west. They had to have been on the road for a few hours, and yet St. John's lay in front of them.

  Rich's body sagged as he let go of the handlebar. Gracie stared over his shoulder at the view of the trees, the Willamette River, the bridge, and housetops. Physically and mentally exhausted from the whole day, realizing the danger surrounding Rich ran deeper than she'd thought and not prepared to rehash her past, she could only sit behind Rich and silently support him with her company.

  During her lowest moments, she'd always had Clara or Chuck with her. Rich seemed to have no one.

  "Did Thalia suffer for long?" asked Rich, breaking his silence.

  She lowered her chin to her chest. Roy Jenson's confession while he'd tied her to the bed was branded in her head. She knew every detail about her mom and Thalia's murder. The killer had been a creature of habit. Precise and sick, enjoying the retelling of his ritual.

  Nobody would be able to understand the meticulous and disturbing mind of a serial killer. She'd tried and failed. His words played over and over in her head. The mind-numbing pain from the injuries she'd suffered in her arm, her chest, still bothered her today.

  "Please, Gracie," he said, roughly. "I need to know."

  She refused to tell him the truth while facing his back.

  She needed to look into his eyes and see for herself how much information he needed to learn so that he could accept the truth and heal.

  Sliding off the motorcycle, she inhaled deeply, steadying her legs. Then, she put her foot on the peg and swung her leg over the gas tank and sat in front of him. The added height put her eye to eye with him.

  Studying him, she asked, "Have you talked with the others about Thalia?"

  "I don't want to hear it from them." He hardened his mouth. "I want to hear it from you."

  Her throat closed with emotions, and she swallowed. How could she hurt him with the truth? He would only punish himself for not finding Thalia sooner.

  She'd seen how the other Notus members lived with the guilt. It was different for Rich. He'd loved Thalia as only a man loved a woman.

  "Death doesn't always strike fear in people." She moistened her lips. "Sometimes, the promise of relief is the sweetest gift that they pray for."

  His pupils constricted and he exhaled harshly. "Don't."

  She cupped his whiskered face, needing him to understand. "She thought of the good things in her life. The people who loved her. But, at the worst, she prayed, and her mind took her to a place where nothing could hurt her. Where she could escape."

  A tear fell down into his beard.

  She swiped her thumb across his cheekbone, drying the path of the teardrop. All the hardness and fierceness he'd displayed over the last couple of months came out as raw pain. He was killing himself trying to hold everything in since his return to the club. She was afraid the pressure would explode, and he'd blow, and she wasn't strong enough to save him.

  His gulp hammered her soul. "How much did she—?"

  She shushed him. "Thalia's at rest."

  His mouth hardened. "How much did he do to you?"

  She moved her hand away from him, and he grabbed her wrist. Not in force, but to keep her from withdrawing and not answering his question. The last thing she wanted to do was have him compare her to Thalia. To understand what she went through, he'd realize Thalia had gone through the same thing, but more. She was the lucky one. That was something she had to convince herself of every day and gave her survivor's remorse. It was unfair that her mother had to die. That Thalia had to die. That young, blonde girls had to die because of a man's sick fascination with Gracie's mother.

  "Physically, he broke my wrist." With her free hand, she unbuttoned the top five buttons on her shirt, opening her chest up to his inspection. "And, this."

  His gaze lowered and he let go of her wrist. Aware of his disgust, she raised her shaking hands and struggled with re-buttoning her top.

  "Don't." He pulled her hands away and then trailed his rough finger over the scar on her chest. "The police." He grimaced. "Thalia had this done to her, too."

  "It was my mother's name. All the women, and girls, he kidnapped had the same thing done to them," she whispered, hating that she wore her experience on her body.

  He flinched and raised his gaze to her eyes. "I'm glad you survived."

  His honesty, after everything she'd told him, hit her out of nowhere. Her vision blurred with unshed tears. There were days, weeks, months, years afterward where she prayed for relief, wishing she would've been killed instead of living with the knowledge of what Jenson had done to her mother and the others.

  That he could draw empathy for her while dealing with his pain learning about Thalia spoke volumes to her. She believed with her whole heart that whatever nightmare, whatever evil, whatever memory that kept him from opening up to the bikers of Notus would someday be fixable.

  "I'm sorry." She could no longer hold back the tears. "I wish —"

  "Don't." He inhaled deeply.

  She looked down at her hands, encircled in Rich's larger, rougher hands. "I wish you'd let the others be a part of your life. They love you."

  "I can't." He leaned forward and laid his forehead against hers. "They're my life, and I can't."

  His breathing mixed with hers. She barely heard his admission.

  Her stomach fluttered at the closeness and sharing. It felt good to be the person who could help someone else. She didn't want him to leave town.

  As an outsider associated with Notus MC, she'd quietly listened to the talk about Rich for the last four years. She'd witnessed the highs when a lead came in on Rich's whereabouts and the lows of disappointment and worry when it was like he'd disappeared into thin air. Club members had broken out into fights when emotions hit too close to home as a way to hide how deeply their feelings ran for their missing member. There were times when she was blessed with memories from Chuck about his friendship with Rich, and she'd listened to him while relevantly wanting to know the man who demanded such loyalty from his friends.

  To her, Rich had become a heartbroken hero that existed but was never seen or heard from, and the likelihood of meeting such a man would never happen.

  She closed her eyes, taking in his closeness. Their pulses matched. She had no idea how she could tell, but she was aware. And, that awareness went all through her body, consuming her.

  He came with his own problems, and she was damaged.

  A shuddering breath rolled through Rich, and he moved, kissing her forehead. She blinked her eyes open, expecting him to say something or touch her again. He needed comfort, and she needed him.

  He scooped her under her armpits and lifted her from the motorcycle. She wanted to stay here, on top of the world where their pr
oblems and individual history couldn't touch them.

  "We need to go. I only have enough gas in the tank to get us back." He started the bike.

  When he refused to look at her, she climbed on behind him and placed her hands on his sides. He grabbed her wrists and wrapped her arms around him, then patted her clutched hands. Her heart jumped at him not dropping her like a bad memory. She expected nothing after sharing her experience with Roy Jenkins, and Rich more than delivered.

  He'd listened, and he never pushed her away.

  Chapter 20

  The other Notus members were already in Wayne's garage waiting for him. Rich closed the door and approached the desk. There were many reasons why he wanted to go after Cross by himself. The most important one being he wanted to protect Notus from being involved in a crime.

  They were used to finding missing persons. After losing Thalia, they'd used their purpose for good. The community of St. John's respected them. The police worked side by side with them.

  Knowing the club saved Gracie and dished out justice for Thalia's murder by killing Roy Jenson, he owed them. If he ended up killed, he'd die satisfied that he'd done his best for Notus.

  "I need to approach Cross myself. This is between him and me." Rich slipped his hand into his pocket and tossed the key to his motorcycle on the desk. "I'll need to borrow your truck."

  Wayne remained stretched out in the chair, his boots on the desk. "Chuck will drive the truck to where Cross is staying. Everyone else will ride out with you."

  "Fuck," he muttered, knowing he needed to lay everything on the table in front of them and take the consequences.

  "I'm not going over there to talk Cross out of killing me. Only one of us will walk away." Rich paused letting that sink in with the others. "I understand that's not the purpose behind Notus and if you're going to turn me in for what I'm going to do tonight, I rather walk out in the street and let Cross kill me. I won't go to prison, and I'd prefer not to be on the run because Komoon will send another man after me if I'm spending time in prison for murder. If that happens, and they find out Gracie gave me shelter away from them to do the deed, they'll go after her. They'll go after Notus. Even if we had the numbers to defend against their war, I wouldn't allow any of you to make that choice. This is on me. You know the club laws. You don't owe me a fucking thing. If you go against me, let me walk out alone."

  Chuck shook his head and stepped away from the desk. Wayne looked at Thad and Glen. Rich tried to read the silent communication between the men. When he was young, he would've understood the warnings, the silent jokes, the ideas built between them. Now he was on the outside.

  Thad walked across the room, opened the filing cabinet, and removed files. Rich watched him closely. They could've agreed to call the cops on him. It'd been a lifetime since he was a part of Notus. He expected no loyalty. He'd fucked them over, the same way he had betrayed Komoon Motorcycle Club by keeping his loyalty to another club secret.

  Now, he paid the price for his mistakes. Again.

  "Take a look in the folder." Wayne latched his hands behind his head and leaned farther back in the chair.

  Thad slapped the file on the desk in front of him. On the other side of the garage, Chuck lit a cigar. A snap came from Rich's left. He glanced at Glen, who spit a sunflower seed in an empty Solo cup.

  He picked up the folder and opened it.

  "That first picture you're seeing was George S. Hawkins. He raped and murdered a thirteen-year-old girl. The court system let him go on a technicality," said Wayne.

  Rich flipped to the next paper. He didn't want to know more about the work Notus performed for others. Thirteen years old was too young to be missing.

  "Larry Kirkland." Wayne put all four legs of the chair on the floor and leaned against the desk. "He abducted a three-year-old boy, kept him for over a year before we found him. We were a day late to save the kid. Kirkland never made it into police custody."

  He turned to the next paper. An older man with deep acne scars wearing a suit smiled at the camera.

  "Bruce Soue. A habitual molester. His last victim was a fifteen-year-old girl who went to the same church as Soue. She ran away. While the police searched, eight children from the church came forward with sexual molestation charges against Soue." Wayne's gaze narrowed. "Soue got out with a pass that he would attend counseling and stay out of the church and away from children. We made sure he stayed away from children forever."

  Thad ripped the folder out of Rich's hand and shuffled through the papers. He stopped and tapped the file. "Roy Jenkins. He killed six females from the age of six years old to thirty-two. He's responsible for abducting, raping, and killing Thalia. He's dead."

  The tension in the room suffocated Rich. He stared at the man who'd taken Thalia from him, hurt Gracie, and ruined the lives of more girls than they probably could prove.

  He'd wondered for twenty-five years who was responsible. He'd looked in many men's faces, wondering if they were the ones. Notus found him. Thad killed him. It'd been too late to save Thalia, but they'd saved Gracie.

  "Notus got rid of every person on those papers." Wayne closed the folder and passed it to Glen. "While you were away, we've breathed, seen, and felt the devastation left behind when those motherfuckers were done hurting women and children. When the court system failed to protect the community from them, we made sure not another person would ever be touched and harmed."

  "You can take that information and shove it up your ass." Glen's upper lip twitched. "I don't regret anything we've done."

  Chuck walked back to the desk. "Legally, there's enough information in this garage to give us all the death penalty, and now you have everything you need to really fuck us up and make us pay for whatever shit you have against us."

  "It's not all in black and white in that folder. I killed my wife's ex-boyfriend. In the eyes of the law, he would've walked away free." Glen shrugged and popped a few more sunflowers in his mouth. "I will do anything to protect her. I can't erase the memory and pain she dealt with from her abuser, but I can make her future better."

  "There are things we do..." Chuck uncrossed his arms and pointed in the air. "Out there." He circled his finger around the room. "Then, there are things we do to protect our own."

  "If you're saying Komoon won't stop trying to kill you if we don't take out Cross, we'll go with you to make sure you live another day... as a club." Wayne stood. "I don't give a fuck that you blacked out your Notus tattoo, or you rode under another patch. I don't give a shit how much you've changed, or you keep refusing to answer our questions. We'll ride together and take out Cross as a club because, at one time, you would've done the same for us, and it's what we've sworn to do. Protect each other and our own."

  They'd changed since he'd left. Rich's throat constricted, and he steeled his jaw. Not one of them had killed anyone before Thalia was murdered.

  Rocked by the information, he compared his past activities to the ones confessed by the club. There was a difference between them and him.

  A difference he wouldn't allow them to know about. A difference that drove him away from the club and away from St. John's.

  Wayne, Thad, Glen, and Chuck's actions were for the betterment of a community and vigilante justice for the victims of the crime. Rich's actions were a crime. Selfish and pure vengeance.

  He stepped away from the desk. The urge to avoid the information handed to him and to get a breather after dealing with Cross pushed him to get business over for the night.

  Finally, he said, "You'll need to put some gas in my tank. Then, I'll be ready to ride and finish this."

  Gracie was tucked safely in the house with her sister and the other women who belonged to Notus members. He followed the others into the main part of the house. The men could fool themselves into believing they were going to protect Gracie and the club, but he had no delusions.

  He was going to have to go against everything he'd struggled with throughout the years to kill Cross. To save himself
because he'd put himself in the position he wanted to avoid by joining Komoon.

  His stomach rolled. Tonight would be his atonement for when he was twenty years old, and his world turned black.

  Afraid he wouldn't make it back from the darkness, he prepared himself, to save the men who meant the most to him.

  In the living room, he waited by the front door while the others kissed their women. The thick mood infected everyone, and the low murmurs exchanged between the couples burned inside of him. They were the reason why he'd never returned to St. John's.

  They all had their lives they were living. Despite the information he was given about their activities, they had settled into a life that brought them pleasure. He never wanted to disrupt their ability to be happy.

  He hardened himself. From experience, he couldn't stop the course that spiraled him out of control and gave him a free pass to hell.

  Gracie sat on the couch, cuddled up in a blanket, looking at him. His chest tightened, chipping his defense. From the outside, she appeared vulnerable. But after what she'd shared with him earlier today, she was the strongest woman he'd ever met. She tempted him, more than any woman had since loving Thalia.

  "Be careful," she mouthed, tucking the blanket around her legs tighter.

  It would be easier to ignore her than face how he felt. He dipped his chin keeping eye contact with her. Notus foisted him on her, but he wasn't her responsibility. He never wanted her to worry about him.

  Beautiful and gentle, Gracie took the hard path after her abduction. She continued to face each day and found ways around her fears while staying with those who loved her.

  He now understood the extra security measures at her house and on her person. The fear she'd displayed with Cross stalking outside her place and trying to break in wasn't misplaced. She'd stayed, for him, despite her own fears.

  Wayne slapped his shoulder, breaking his connection with Gracie. "Ready?"

  He turned, shutting off his feelings and walked outside into the darkness, knowing when tonight ended, there were two whiskey bottles in his duffle calling his name, and he could forget.