Falling For Crazy (Moroad Motorcycle Club)

by Debra Kayn

  Fuck, he could taste the love Amy had for him. For her, he'd settle her within the club and provide a safe environment. Nobody would get another chance to hurt her, even him.

  His eyes burned. His chest ached with the knowledge he couldn't protect her forever. It wasn't fair to keep her in the dark.

  One day, he'd need to show her the rest of him, all of him. She was stronger than he gave her credit for. Her inner strength had him second-guessing his decision. She deserved more than he could give her and he held everything she wanted in his hands.

  He had to finish the job and give her what she had no idea she wanted. Only then would he step back and leave her life.

  When that day came, if a bullet or knife failed to take him, he'd lose her forever. She'd hate him enough to kill. No one understood the kind of anger and bitterness she'd develop over understanding and accepting the truth more than him. He deserved all the pain she could deliver.

  As soon as he dealt with Quijada and killed Flores, he had to let Amy go. He'd rather give her a broken heart than destroy everything that made her special. Then he could slip back into the shadows and forget.

  He only wanted to forget.

  He needed to forget.

  "Jacko has the same tattoo." Amy removed her hand from his pocket and latched on to Jacko's wrist, lifting his arm for Bear's inspection.

  He turned to gaze at the location on his bicep where she pointed. A crude tat of a clock without hands.

  Jacko lifted his gaze to Bear and spoke to Amy before she could ask her next question. "It means we've done time behind bars."

  "Why does the clock on Bear's arm have the time of ten minutes after two?" she asked.

  "I've done two ten-year sentences," Bear said, looking down at the fading green ink on his forearm.

  Amy moved into Jacko's line of vision and held his gaze. "Why doesn't yours have hands?"

  "Because time, incarcerated or free, doesn't mean anything to me," he said, turning away.

  He walked toward the building, squatted, and leaned his back against the building. He lived in a damn motel, barely clean enough to be sanitary. She deserved more. Once he finished off Flores and Quijada, he'd have more time to slip away and earn more money. Hell, a couple armed robberies and he'd have enough to set her up somewhere. He'd help out with her rent until she got a job again and over time, she'd heal and go on with life without being shackled to him.

  Amy walked over and leaned against the wall beside him. Around the others, she never forced him to talk and respected the space he needed. While his muscles flinched with the need to confess the very thing that would destroy her and fill the air with whatever popped into his head, she accommodated his need to continue with what he needed to do.

  The guilt and his failure ate a hole in his gut.

  Amy walked away without a word, grabbed a beer out of the cooler, and returned to his side. "Here."

  He looked up at the offered drink. Her typical behavior of trying to take care of him, make him comfortable around the others, had him wishing she was a royal bitch. What he had to do would be easier if he could walk away from her without caring if he destroyed her.

  He twisted the top off the bottle and drank long. Whiskey or Everclear would take the edge off. Beer only made him want her more.

  "I wish we could get out of here. Just take a walk down the road or ride one of the backroads." She lowered her voice. "I miss my job, which is something I never thought I'd say. I don't know how many times I'd drive into work on a Monday and wish it was Friday because I had the weekends off."

  Jacko gazed at the bottle dangling out of his hand. "What did you do?"

  "I was a teller at a community credit union." She shrugged. "I wasn't in love with my job, but it was steady, and I had a decent income to count on every month."

  Jacko stood arm to arm beside her, kicking his ass for not thinking about her life she lived in Montana. "You left in a hurry. Are there loose ends I need to fix?"

  She turned to him. "People at my job aren't the problem I'm having, Jacko."

  "No, but will they talk if questioned by Los Li?"

  She frowned and shook her head. "I called and left a message with the district manager from the hotel before I left letting her know I had a family emergency out of state and was leaving my job."

  "You have no family," Jacko said, knowing Los Li wouldn't fall for the excuse.

  "I never talked much about my life with anyone after I moved. Not even my coworkers would question my reason for quitting. Besides, they're not allowed to share personal information with bank customers. It's confidential."

  Jacko ran his hands through his hair, took his beanie out of his back pocket, and shoved it over his hair to keep the strands out of his eyes. "Everyone's got a price."

  "Apparently." She sighed and walked to the edge of the concrete, whirled around, and said, "Take me out of here."

  He shook his head. "Can't."

  She sucked her lips between her teeth and looked to the right at the others. He'd seen many men totter on the verge of losing all common sense, and today had pushed Amy to the edge. The walls of the motel room closed in on her. Even the backyard became too small. She needed to get her mind off the mounting tension.

  He pushed off the wall, gathered her in his arms, holding her head against his chest, and let himself talk. "Tomorrow, I'm going to ride out of Federal. I'll be gone for a while. When I get back, you'll have the freedom to walk down the road or go shopping. Whatever you want to do, nobody is going to hurt you. There won't be any reason for you to look over your shoulder or worry about people shooting at you."

  Her body stiffened, and she pushed against his hold to raise her head. "You're leaving me?"

  "Yeah, Momma." He inhaled deeply. "I'm going to make your world safe. When I'm done, you won't have to worry about Los Li touching your life again."

  The patch he wore, the colors he flew, his club would finish the job if he ended up dead. Moroad would seek retaliation on his behalf, guaranteeing Amy's safety. They'd watch over her and as his widow, provide financially for her. The same would happen if his ass got caught, and he landed in prison. The thought of living with his punishment, without finishing the job, was worse than death.

  If he got lucky and made it out alive, he'd set her up wherever she wanted to go. He'd give her a better life. A life she deserved and had never received. She'd gone through too many deaths, too many hardships, and needed space to breathe and take care of herself, instead of everyone else.

  "You're not planning on coming back to me," she whispered, digging her fingers into his arms.

  "Yeah, I'm coming back." He laughed, and even to him the sound came out wrong. "There's nothing to worry about. You'll stay here with Bear and Johnson, drive them crazy for a change, and in less than a week, I'll be here."

  She stepped back, shaking her head. "You're lying."

  "I'm not—"

  "Stop." She closed her eyes, holding in the pain, and when she opened them again, he groaned.

  The only time he'd seen all hope disappear from her eyes, he'd sat her down and explained how Sarah's life ended in Mexico. Total despair had ripped her breath out of her body, and he was responsible for her loss as if he'd killed Sarah with his bare hands.

  "You're not coming back, and it has to do with the third reason you want everyone to believe you're crazy," she stated. "Keep your secrets, but don't lie to me."

  He stared at her feet. Lies had always come easier for him. The truth caused other people pain. He'd rather Amy believe he was an asshole for leaving her than go on believing he could ever make her happy. She'd been right all along. He was damaged.

  "What made you change so much, you've lost all feelings for other people, for me." Her gaze narrowed. "You've been bullshitting me all along."

  "How I feel about you isn't bullshit," he said.

  "Right." She exhaled harshly. "If you cared, you'd let your club handle Los Li."

  "It's not their fight." />
  "It's not yours either." Her voice raised, and her hair fell against her cheek. "Sarah's gone, and nothing will bring her back. It doesn't matter how many men you kill. My sister is not coming back."

  He swallowed away the pain. "The men who hurt her need to pay."

  She covered her face with her hands. He pulled her back in his arms, more determined than ever to protect her.

  "You want a ride, we'll go for a ride," he said, kissing the top of her hair and nodding at the men watching him in case he needed help with her. He'd never hurt her, but his MC brothers didn't know that. They had his woman's back.

  She sniffed. "I thought you wanted us to stay here."

  "I do, but one more ride before I leave." He cupped her face and thrummed his thumbs across her damp cheeks. "I need to show you something before I go."

  She fell in beside him. He tucked her under his arm. What he was about to do could never be undone, but he had to show her in case Quijada or Flores take him out.

  Cam limped over to him. He stopped, looking his president in the eye.

  "Do you need riders with you?" Cam glanced at Amy before looking at Jacko again.

  Jacko shook his head. "I'm good. I need to take Amy out of town...up Nine Mile."

  "You sure you want to do this?" Cam studied him.

  Jacko held on to Amy tighter, knowing Cam held Amy's future back at his house and would make sure she received all the information she needed when he was gone. "It's time."

  Cam nodded, slipped back to the fire, and Jacko led Amy to his motorcycle. Aware of his surroundings and on the lookout for Los Li, he took Amy where he should've taken her at the beginning. To say goodbye.

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Jacko parked the motorcycle in the middle of the single lane gravel road inside Nine Mile Cemetery. Amy sat behind him, her arms lax around his middle. A scream of renunciation caught in her chest, pounding to get out. The moment he had pulled off the main road and zigzagged through the marked graves to the back wall where the ashes of people's loved ones rested, she understood what he wanted to show her.

  He shut off the bike. She leaned against his back. Her heart raced. Her pulse pounded in her ears. Her stomach flipped. Any second, her heart would burst, killing her.

  She wanted to run over and talk with her sister, even though Sarah would never hear her. As soon as the thought came, she wanted to tell Jacko to start the motorcycle and take her back to the motel. Denial was a powerful drug, and she wanted to overdose. As long as she could pretend Sarah was away, she could keep herself from falling into an endless phase of missing her.

  God, she missed her every single day.

  Five years and she could still remember blowing Sarah a kiss as she walked out of the house to meet Jacko at his rental house a mile away. Mimicking the instructions her mom always said to the girls, Amy had told her sister to be careful and come home before midnight, even though Sarah was an adult. Amy's goodbye to Sarah that night was a reminder that she loved and cared for her sister and in the back of her mind, one more jab at being the older sister who could boss Sarah around.

  The night Jacko came and told her he'd received proof that Los Li murdered Sarah in Mexico replayed in her head. She'd asked him to repeat everything three times, and finally she understood. She'd collapsed to her knees, and Jacko carried her to the sofa, covered her up, and left her to understand the magnitude of losing her sister alone.

  The next morning, Jacko returned with the news she had to move away. She never asked him to repeat himself. She understood, and she followed his instructions, started over, and moved on with her life by herself.

  Jacko cleared his throat. "Three rows from the right, the second box from the top."

  She stared out into the dark at the wilted flowers stuck in the holes of the wall and wondered if anyone ever placed a bouquet in Sarah's vault. If she would've stayed living near Federal, she could've came and visited. Even brought flowers. Sarah loved daisies.

  "Who paid for her to...be here?" she asked, hoping she spoke loud enough. Everything sounded muffled with her thoughts filling her head.

  Jacko's shoulders straightened. "I did."

  "Is she...?"

  He shook his head. "No."

  "Then her body is still in Mexico?" she whispered, scrunching her forehead against the hate filling her.

  "We don't have much time, Amy. I wanted to show you where you could come if you..." Jacko reached behind him and stroked her thigh. "It's a place you can talk to her and uh, yeah, maybe put some flowers up there on the wall for her."

  "Can I go over?" she asked.

  He nodded.

  She slipped off the motorcycle and stayed by his side. "Will you come with me?"

  "Momma," he whispered on an exhale.

  He remained on his bike. She reached out and stroked his beard. All these years she held out hope that Sarah wasn't dead. That somehow, she'd wake up the next day and her sister would come running in the house excited about a movie or plans with her friends.

  It was time for her to tell Sarah goodbye, and she rather have Jacko beside her.

  "Please," she said.

  He climbed off the bike, grabbed her hand, and led her through the dark. Only one overhead light lit the way. She gazed at the ground, watching her step on the worn path through the grass.

  She looked up at Jacko and understood who had forged across the grass many, many times. "You come here a lot. Is this where you come to at night when you ride away by yourself?"

  He stopped in front of the wall, ignoring her question. "You need to say or do what you need to do. I don't like having you out at night, away from the club."

  Her chest compressed imagining him in the dark cemetery alone, wishing for a different outcome. Maybe even talking to Sarah in a way he struggled to open up around his club brothers. She squeezed his hand and turned to the wall.

  Sarah Ann O'Harris

  January 23, 1988 ~ September 2, 2010

  Emotions clogged Amy's throat, and she sucked air into her lungs. She traced Sarah's name with her index finger. The surface cold and smooth sent chills through her.

  Jacko moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her steady. She trailed her finger over the wilted, white daisies, and watched a few petals fall to the ground at her feet. Jacko had remembered Sarah's favorite flower.

  "I miss you so much, Sarah," she whispered. "Every day."

  Jacko kissed the side of her head. "She knows, Momma."

  She bowed her head wanting to stay at the cemetery until she believed him when he promised Sarah was at peace. Until she was strong enough to leave and go on alone.

  People were supposed to die of old age, medical problems, car accidents. The ones left living were supposed to mourn, heal, understand.

  A young woman stolen, tortured, used, and killed by the Mexican mafia went against life's natural course. Sarah's death was unthinkable and went unpunished. The outcry from the public never came, because the crime was kept hidden for her safety. Jacko wanted her kept safe, and in the end his attempt was all for nothing. Los Li threatened her life, too.

  "I'll kill the fuckers. Every last one of them," Jacko said as if reading her mind. "They will know she meant everything to us. I'll make sure they never trespass on your life again."

  The reminder of him leaving in two days crashed into her. She leaned back against him. God, help her. She understood his need to wipe the earth of the men who hurt Sarah. But, she feared losing Jacko more than she needed vengeance.

  Sarah was gone.

  There was no changing her fate. No matter how many wishes, she was never getting her sister back.

  Jacko was living.

  The future was there's to share together, to survive, to love.

  She closed her eyes, blocking out the sight of her sister's memorial vault, the depressing night, tomorrow's changes. Jacko's warmth surrounded her. His lips were on her skin. His breath tickled her ear. His heart beat against her back. />
  She turned and held him tight. "Promise right now, on Sarah's grave, you will come back to me. Promise me, Jacko. I need to hear the words. I need you in my life, breathing, living, and driving me crazy. I can't lose you, too."

  He captured her lips. A shudder rolled through her. The uneasiness she'd experienced since running back to Federal grew.

  Jacko pulled back, laid his forehead against hers, and said, "I promise."

  She inhaled his confidence, needing every single drop.

  "Are you ready to go back to the motel?" he asked.

  She raised her chin. "In just a second."

  Turning around, she faced the cold, marble wall, the only connection she had with her sister now. She had five years' worth of things to say and too little time.

  "Sarah...I'll be back." She placed her palm flat on her sister's engraved name and whispered, "I'm okay. Jacko's here with me, and he's taking care of everything. If you can see us, I know you think this is weird. I never—"

  "Amy," Jacko said. "She knows."

  Her heart pounded against her chest, and she leaned forward, resting her cheek against the wall. "Forgive me, Sarah," she whispered.

  Jacko gathered her in his arms and walked her back to the motorcycle. Drained and morose, she rode back to the motel. The closure she expected to come now that she had a place to visit with her memories hovered out of reach. Maybe Jacko was right and after all the men responsible for killing Sarah were dead, she could heal. She looked up at the black sky speckled with stars and hugged Jacko tighter. An ache settled deep in her chest, and she couldn't help feeling like part of her was missing and Jacko hadn't left yet.

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Two miles north of Idaho State Penitentiary, the traffic flowed consistently past the gravel Park and Ride under the interstate. Jacko, standing beside his Harley, held his phone in his hand and checked the time. Already noon and Pretaro still hadn't called to let him know Veto Quijada walked out of prison a free man.