by Jayne Blue
I knew we were an almost a two-hour drive away from Southwood. But I didn’t know where the hell this church was. Daddy had also seen to it that the limo had tinted windows. Just another way to keep control over me. To keep me off balance. Were we still in Michigan?
I wondered who would marry David Wexler and me. What did this church owe the club? Or did Daddy give them a generous donation to ignore the fact that unholy matrimony was about to go down?
The limo stopped, and I looked up. We had arrived. It was a pretty church, I had to admit, and it was in the country.
With each step up into the building, the urge to scream became stronger. I wanted to stamp my foot or claw at the lace of my dress, anything to release the frustration of being trapped.
Because trapped I was. Daddy hadn’t left me alone for one moment since he’d set me down this path. I’d been with him, or Uncle Cheech, and now Boone and Headlock. They were there to babysit me. No question about it. Whatever freedom I had in the last four years at college was ripped away. If I really ever had it at all. I was a prisoner to Daddy’s orders. To the needs of the Devil's Hawks.
Nothing had changed. Daddy was in charge, and everyone around him did what he said. That included me above all. I was the good girl daughter of a bad man. And I did what I was told.
“They’re here to keep you safe. We’re having trouble with Great Wolves.” That was Daddy’s excuse for keeping me under lock and key.
Daddy had isolated me since I’d gotten back from college. He knew he was going to do this. He’d planned it perfectly.
Other than my initial session of begging to get out of it, I was a mostly passive and compliant daughter. It was my only play. I needed to make Daddy think I was okay and had agreed.
It worked well enough. Because now, moments before I was supposed to walk down the aisle Boone and Headlock handed me off to Ross.
The fact that only one person stood between my escape was the best opening I would have.
“Ross?”
“Yeah, that’s my name for now.”
“Ah, well nice to know you Ross, before you become Hammer or Knuckles or whatever tough guy name they give you.”
The club gave you a nickname once you were patched in, but now they called him "Probie".
Ross was skinny, he was smaller than Boone and Headlock by at least 20 pounds, and now he was stuck with the job of standing outside the powder room of a church.
“Well, I hope it’s not Knuckles. I would always forget the K.” I laughed for the first time in a while.
“Well, Ross, I’m sorry you got stuck with handmaiden to the bride duties.”
“It’s okay Jules. Protecting you is an honor.” He was so out of place, with his leather, and scruff, in a church, and as a bridesmaid, it would have been funny if I even had one ounce of humor about the situation.
“Honor? Okay, well whatever.” I wondered how old Ross was. What was his story? Why did he think getting into a motorcycle gang was a good idea? But I didn’t have time to find out. I had to worry about my story. That meant getting away from this probie for a few minutes.
“I’m going to go in here and fix up, so give me a minute. I’ve got to deal with a lot.”
I pointed to my dress, veil, and flowers. I was full on Bride Princess. Daddy imagined what a six-year-old girl would want for a wedding dress and arranged for it. It would have been sweet except that I was grown, educated, and had decided that I didn’t want a life with Detective David Wexler.
I didn’t want to be Daddy’s payment to a dirty cop.
I didn’t know all the things the Devil’s Hawks did, but I did know that what he did with his club was dangerous, illegal, and required someone inside law enforcement to look the other way.
That was David. My mission was to keep David happy. For Daddy’s club. It made me sick to think I was expected to give up my body at the whim of the Devil’s Hawks.
That was the idea. Well, that was Daddy’s idea.
I had other ideas.
Ross let me close the door to the powder room of the church. Headlock had let me carry my own bag when we’d gotten into the church. And he hadn’t snooped. That was good because inside my one bag I’d jammed my wallet, a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, some shorts, my Chuck Taylor’s and some toiletries. I’d also packed away some of my designs and artwork from my senior project, maybe I could sell them?
There was also a sexy negligee from David that he wanted me to wear tonight. Barf. I was afraid to leave it behind at my house though for fear of giving myself away.
Most important I had my graduation cash. That was something. That would be my lifeline.
I wished I had more time. I wished I could pack a Ford Mustang in there too. No such luck, though. As it was, my bag was stuffed, and my mind was set.
There was a soft knock at the bathroom door.
“Miss Jules, you have about five minutes. The pastor guy said you have to come out.”
“You try peeing in this dress! You wanna come in and hold it up for me Ross?”
“No, no. For sure no. I’ll let your Dad know you’re almost ready.”
“Good.”
Shit. I didn’t have time to change into my jeans. I didn’t really have time to think. It was move my ass or be married. I decided to move. The window to the powder room was high up so I couldn’t reach.
But there was a tall garbage can. I flipped it over and put my bag around my shoulder.
I hoisted myself up and balanced for a second on the window.
It was about six feet drop. Six feet is a lot. I decided to arm hang my way out. That would make it less than a foot.
I swung my legs out of the church window, and then I squirmed over so I was suspended half in and half out. I hesitated for a second.
My bag might weigh me down, but I wasn’t leaving that behind. My thoughts raced, and all the possible scenarios flipped through my head.
Daddy would be enraged by even the smallest show of disobedience. But marrying David Wexler? Worse going on a honeymoon with David Wexler? None of it computed. I couldn’t.
I had a lot of actual and emotional baggage to carry for someone who needed to haul ass. I was so scared.
When I dropped from this window, I would really be leaping into the unknown. I’d be crossing a threshold for sure.
I held tight to the window ledge for another second. My white pumps dangled. I felt the silk of my dress snag on the bricks of the church.
Oops. I was shredding the princess outfit more and more with each passing second.
Then I heaved myself out. I fell to the ground in a heap of white.
I didn’t stay on the ground long. I popped up, gathered the voluminous skirt of my fairy tale wedding dress in a chunk, and held it to one side.
Then I ran.
I ran as fast as my white stilettos could carry me.
Ryder
I needed to just ride. I got on my bike and revved the engine. Sometimes it was the best way to clear my head. To think.
Or to not think.
I looked down at the patch on my leather.
I was an officer now for my club. It was pretty cool. Seemed like yesterday I’d just earned my Great Wolves Grand City cut and now I had the patch of an officer.
It was the auto body shop. That’s what did it.
I was getting to be pretty damned responsible.
Great Wolves, my M.C. ran MMA Gyms, Security Services, and now thanks to me, they were starting auto body shops. Pretty damn lucrative and it was my idea.
Sawyer, my Prez, had given me the honor of Sergeant at Arms because of it. And because there’d been some changes at the top.
Stone, my best friend, had moved from our charter to one down south and Hagan, the old VP had been shot in cold blood. Yeah, bullet holes had led to an opening at the table. Sad but true. No matter how legit you were, violence was a part of the patch.
The recent meeting at the table of the Wolf Den was fresh in my mind as I watched my tr
eads grip the back roads.
“I’m going to be touring for the next month with our MMA fighters. I need this shit locked down. I need you all to be solid at this table. We’ve got a lot of moving parts.” Sawyer had said.
With Sawyer out of the picture for a few weeks, he knew it was important we were settled. Great Wolves were legit and above board, but that meant strong, stable dudes at the top so the members didn’t go off and instigate their own mayhem.
Sawyer was our Prez, and now Steele was our VP.
Ridge, who’d been in charge of me when I was a probie, was now Secretary. It was funny the way the young guys I’d come in with were now moving up. Becoming leaders.
I guess that was what happened if you were good enough to be a Great Wolf. It wasn’t for everybody. And that was what put the great in it.
Ridge was scary, loyal, and didn’t joke around too much. Although he fucked women as if it was his job his actual job was keeping us in line Stone and me were coming up.
Ridge did his job for the M.C. well and if the noises I heard from the ladies in the back room were any gauge he did the other well too. I liked Ridge’s life philosophy.
Hot women, quick sex and no attachments. I knew there weren’t many women like Sawyer’s old lady or Stone’s hot new wife.
The only girl I’d ever spent any amount of time with lately was Dusty. Our bartender and that was fine with me. She was one of the guys.
The rest? They seemed to want to fuck anything in leather and turn around and fuck you over. Nope. Not for me.
I was happy and very unattached to any women but very attached to my club. I knew I was with good, tough, loyal badasses. They’d taught me all I knew since my probie days.
Larry, the old timer, was keeping his job as Treasurer. We were making a lot of bank these days and having Larry, who Sawyer trusted above all, keep the money locked up, made us all feel pretty secure.
Now I was Sergeant-at-Arms of the Great Wolves Grand City Motorcycle Club. Un-fucking-believable. I would have smiled, but I was on the bike. I wasn’t in the mood for a grill full of bugs.
I rounded the curve of a long empty country road. The spring was just starting to turn things green. I needed the air. I needed the freedom my bike gave me. Even if I was now a responsible officer of my club and ran a fucking business, the open road, even for an hour or two, was necessary. If I didn’t ride, I got “squirrelly” as Sawyer called it. It was my medication.
I was going to spend a day, maybe three, rough, out in the country, sleeping at a campground I knew. That was one thing my old man taught me. How to camp. I loved the grease and the engines of the Great Wolves Auto Body shop, but every once in a while I had to clear it out of my lungs. I had my best ideas on the road or in a tent.
The members understood. We all had days, sometimes weeks, where we needed out. Except for Sawyer. As the Prez, you were never out I guess.
The wind, the engine, the trees whipping by, all of it was my drug. I was enjoying it, and it was the perfect way to balance my new responsible life of running Great Wolves Auto Body. I was completely in my own head. That’s until I saw something on the side of the road. Something very out of place.
A cotton candy shaped puff of white caught my eye as it moved strangely forward along the side of the road. It was sort of hard to make out what I saw so I eased back on the throttle as I got closer.
It was a woman. And I had to close my eyes tight and re-focus them to be sure I was really seeing her.
She was running, pretty damn fast actually, for all the fluff that she was hauling with her. I scanned her from head to toe as I approached.
She had piles of blonde hair with flowers woven in and out of it. I could see white netting, lace, and sparkle covering her from the neck to her tiny waist, and then an explosion of white skirt. She was carrying it to the side, as her legs, covered in white fishnets, pumped fast. At the bottom of this wedding cake topper, gone rogue was a pair of muddy Converse tennis shoes.
Well, that explained how she was able to haul ass as fast as she was.
As I got closer, she made a break for the tree line and off the road. I’d probably spooked her, but I really did want to know what the story was. There was no one around for miles. Where had she come from?
As she scrambled to the woods, I called out.
“Hey, stop!” I lifted my helmet off my head. I watched her trip and take a tumble. I put my stand down and got off the bike.
“Stay away!” She yelled as she tried to get up, navigating her giant dress, which was now grass-stained. It was like a tangled fishnet around her legs.
I put both my hands up. I supposed my leather and current Mohawk hair style was not the most reassuring sight for anyone to see much less a sprinting, uh, bride? Yes. I was looking at a runaway bride here.
“Listen, Princess Buttercup. I’m not here to hurt you. Just looks like you need a little help.” She was looking down, her back to me, and she was still.
When she turned her head and lifted it to face me, I felt something very strange. She had gray eyes. I’d never seen that color of eyes before, and they looked very much like the eyes of someone being hunted. Panic was just under the surface. And she was thinking. It showed in her eyes and furrowed brow.
She looked up and down at me. Nothing about how I look was going to make her feel safer. That I knew.
“Are you a Great Wolf?” She asked me. Which was a surprise, odd that this little princess knew what a Great Wolf was, didn’t seem like it fit?
“Yes.”
“I need a ride. Fast. Out of here. Now.” She figured out a way to stand up, despite the massive amount of white fluff pulling her down, and she looked me in the eyes again.
I moved from her eyes to button nose and perfect bow shaped lips. God this princess was like out of a book for sure. I still wasn’t one-hundred percent sure that this was real. Had I accidentally smoked something more than a little weed lately?
“Well, you’re in luck. Riding fast and out of here is my current destination.” I put out a hand, and she hesitated. She looked down the road. It was empty. Was she expecting something to be there? It was just the two of us. Her gray eyes were beautiful, no question, but scared.
The road she’d been running along was deserted that I knew since I was on it. What was she so worried about?
We stood on opposite sides of a drainage ditch that kept the Michigan country roads flood free in the wet spring. We were the only two people in sight on this clear spring Sunday morning.
A biker and a bride sizing each other up. I’m sure it made a curious picture.
Then she put her hand in mine. I noticed how rough and dark my skin looked next to her soft white skin. I also noticed a stiffening in areas I did not expect. It was a shock. Apparently, I had a Princes Bride fetish that I was unaware of until this second.
I pulled her across the ditch and up to me. She leaped at that same moment, and we were about half an inch apart. I took a breath in through my nose. There was a sweet smell to her hair. Maybe it was the flowers. I could see they were real and interwoven in this elaborate hair situation. I wanted to get closer to her. To breathe in again. Instead, I stood still and let her get her balance.
Her stormy eyes met mine. I meant to kiss her. I really did. I questioned myself again. Had someone put a magic mushroom on my last pizza?
But I snapped out of it.
“Where to?” I said.
“Anywhere but here,” she said, and she kept her hand in mine.
“Alright, Princess.” I guided her up to my bike and watched her hike her dress up. This time, I caught a glimpse of garter belts. Shit. This was likely a very messy situation I was helping her out of. But the garter belts were enough. Mess or not I was putting her on my bike.
“My name isn’t Princess.” She said.
“Oh yeah, well you look like one. Except for those kicks.” I answered as I made sure she had all of her dress up and safely tucked in away from my tires and aroun
d her.
“My name’s Juliet, Jules. You can call me Jules.”
“Sounds like a very princess name if you ask me. I’m Ryder. Keep that dress up so you don’t get killed. And hold on tight.”
“Are you headed to a town?” She asked me.
“I’m headed to a campground. Few days off. That work for you?”
“It’ll do for now. Let’s go.”
“Okay Princess, uh, Jules.” And I got on my bike and kicked the stand out. I revved it up and unleashed. If she wanted to go fast, I’d show her fast.
She held on, looser than I’d recommend at the speed we were going. She was a little wild this runaway princess bride. That was clear. She liked the speed so I took the pins out for her.
I wondered for a second, who was the prince or groom she’d left behind? Was he the one that sparked the fear in her eyes when she’d looked at the road behind her?
I didn’t wonder for long. Instead, I enjoyed the road, the wind, the clean air, and the feeling of having Jules lightly hold on as we road.
The smell of flowers mixed in with the smell of my leather. The combo worked. It worked like crazy.
Jules
Hot. There was no other way to describe Ryder. He was hot. He looked like Brad Pitt era Thelma and Louise wrapped tight in leather and topped off in a Mohawk. And he had the sexiest smile I’d ever seen. I mean ever. And I had been treated to some sexy smiles when I dated the captain of the football team in college.
Ryder’s smile let me know he’d seen my garter belt but wasn’t going to mention it. He didn’t need to.
I had been on fast bikes before. And I knew exactly what every patch on Ryder’s leather meant. He was Sergeant-at-Arms of the Great Wolves M.C., Grand City Chapter.
I was raised in the club. Just not that one. I was raised to hate the Great Wolves because Daddy said to.
“They’ve gone soft, and they act so fucking superior. Fine with me. I’ll take every last cent they would have earned. Idiots.”