by Nicole James
“They ride so close together,” she couldn’t help observing.
Yammer responded, glancing over to her, “Yeah, yeah, I know, right? MCs know how to ride, and they ride together in pack formation daily. These guys know their brother’s riding style better than they know their own.”
“It’s amazing.”
“Yeah, pretty cool, right? They know what they’re doin’, know exactly how to approach a corner or dodge a vehicle while remaining only a foot or two of distance from each other. Each of ‘em watching the riders five rows ahead. You smash into your brother’s bike, you’re gonna meet his fist personally.”
He glanced over at her, his wrist resting on the top of the steering wheel; he lifted just his finger to point to the bikes. “Ridin’ shoulder to shoulder like that, darlin’, it’s an intimate thing. Mastering tight turns in formation like that, it’s a rush.
“The bikes up in the front are really starting to pull away.”
“Yeah, those are the club’s officers up there. Those guys at the front and the ones right behind them, they’re some of the best riders in the club.”
Jessie nodded, taking it all in.
“Yeah, when you’re riding in a pack, there’s nothing like it. You don’t worry about those guys hauling ass in the front of the pack.”
“How do they know when the front is stopping or someone’s having trouble with their bike?”
“We got our own form of sign language. Different signals for a lot of different shit like if they point at the gas tank, it means they’re low on gas. If they tap the top of their helmet it means slow the fuck down. Signals for if the law’s up ahead or if there’s debris in the road. Shit like that.”
“Fascinating.”
“You gotta make sure your bike is dialed in and can take the abuse of the pack ride, too. One thing you don’t want to be is that guy.
“That guy?”
“The guy that slows the pack up because his bike is running like shit. Nobody wants to be that guy, least of all a prospect.”
About an hour later, they followed the line of bikes taking an exit ramp that led to a big truck plaza.
The roar of bikes was tremendous as the multitude jockeyed for position to form a dozen lines at the various pumps. Yammer pulled off to the side, pulling behind a blue pickup truck. He looked through the windshield and chuckled. Jess turned to see what it was he found so funny. She saw a bumper sticker in the back window of the cab that read, Foreplay in Texas: Get in the truck.
“That’s a good one. You like cowboys? What is it with women and cowboys?”
Jessie just gave him a mystified shrug, hoping he wasn’t actually expecting her to explain it to him. He just grinned at her and winked.
“Bikers are better.”
He might be right about that, she had to admit silently in her head.
The van rocked as Yammer climbed out to fill the tank. She heard him unscrew the gas cap and then the nozzle clank as he jammed it into the tank.
Jess slowly undid her seatbelt and climbed out looking around, trying to find Ghost in all the bikes. She needed to go inside and pee.
She told Yammer where she was going, then headed across the lot. Halfway to the building she heard a sharp piercing whistle and looked to the right.
Ghost waved his arm in the air, motioning her over. She felt the eyes of a dozens bikers follow her as she made her way to him, still wearing her leather shorts and high-heeled ankle boots. She heard some catcalls and whistles, but she ignored them.
Ghost’s eyes skated down her as she reached him. He pushed his shades up on his head.
“Already checked inside. Only option in there are some pink sweatpants with Bootylicious written across the ass.” He shrugged with a grin. “Your call.”
She rolled her eyes. “Uh, no.”
“Yeah, I didn’t think so.” He glanced around at the area. “Maybe there’s a Farm and Fleet around we could check out.”
Shades, who was one pump over, hung his nozzle up and recapped his tank. “Not happening, bro. We’re not holding up a hundred bikes while you take your girl shopping.”
“She needs some jeans, Shades,” Ghost replied.
Shades eyes skated down her bare legs. “It’s seventy degrees. She’ll be fine. Won’t ya, darlin’?”
“I guess,” she answered.
“That’s the spirit,” Shades replied with a grin as he passed them on his way inside.
Ghost looked at her with a resigned expression. “Guess it’s back in the chaps for you.”
“I need to pee.”
He lifted his chin toward the building. “Make it quick, brat.”
She hurried inside.
When she came back out he held the chaps out to her and waited while she put them on, then he tossed her his leather jacket and a pair of riding glasses. “Here, take my extra pair. And the jacket will keep the wind off you if you need it or I can put it back in the saddlebag. But we probably won’t stop again for hours. Up to you.”
“I’ll take it.”
She slid it on.
“You should probably braid your hair,” he suggested, holding out a hair tie that he’d pulled off his handle bar.
She took it, shoved the arm of the sunglasses between her teeth and began to braid her hair while he stood there patiently waiting. When she was finished, he handed her a spare helmet he’d pulled out of his saddlebag and strapped it on her head.
“All set?”
She nodded.
He swung his leg over the bike, lifted it off its kickstand and fired it up. Then he motioned her to climb on behind him. When she was on, he rolled over and got in the line next to one of his brothers, who looked over and nodded to him, then smiled at her and winked.
She grinned back.
He revved his throttle and turned his attention to the line waiting to pull out. A moment later, the bikes roared to life as the line began to move. When Ghost hit the on-ramp, he twisted his head and yelled over his shoulder, “Hold the fuck on.”
She tightened her arms around his waist, and he gunned the throttle. She felt the bike surge forward beneath her. When they reached the top of the ramp, Ghost and the brother to his left eased over in synchronization as if they’d been doing this maneuver for years. Which, she supposed they had.
The wind surged over her, and she watched the landscape soar by.
It was the most thrilling experience of her life. She’d never been on a bike before, except for one time when she’d begged her brother, Tommy, to give her a ride on his dirt bike. He’d refused, but later that afternoon, after her brother had gone to a dentist appointment with their mom, Ghost had sneaked her a ride to the end of the block and back. She remembered holding him tight. He’d been just a boy, then. It was a whole different story holding on to the muscled man he was now.
She smiled, resting her cheek against his back, recalling the memory. A moment later she felt his left hand settle over her thigh just above her knee and give her a reassuring pat and squeeze. It was almost as if he was letting her know he was happy she was on the back of his bike.
And she couldn’t stop a strange feeling from running through her that maybe, just maybe, this was where she’d always belonged. It had just taken her a long roundabout way to get here. But she was here now. Finally.
Five hundred long miles later, the club pulled up to the clubhouse of the Omaha, Nebraska Chapter, and their hosts for the night. Surprisingly, it was an unassuming, large clapboard two-story building that looked like it was built around the turn of the last century. It was buried back in an old neighborhood on the corner of a tiny side street that ended in a dead-end that butted up against the rail yards. As they rolled up on the corner, Jessie looked up at the side of the building. There were four windows on the second floor, each one covered with a banner with a different letter that spelled out: E D M C. It didn’t take her long to figure out that stood for Evil Dead Motorcycle Club.
The windows on the first floor wer
e bricked up with glass blocks. There was one entrance on the side, and some type of warning sign was posted on it, but they rolled by too quickly for her to read what it said.
They rolled around the corner, and she got a look at the front of the building. Two narrow windows up top had vertical banners covering them from the inside. One read, Evil. The other read, Dead.
On the ground floor, on either side of the main entrance were two big windows, each covered with a flag of the Evil Dead logo.
As her eyes scanned the building, she also noticed cameras mounted up high in several locations as well as security floodlights. There was a big, newer addition on the right that didn’t have a single window, just a door. There was also a six-foot high wooden privacy fence with a gate.
The bikes began backing to the curb and parking in a line that extended all the way to the dead-end and back up the other side of the street. Ghost and the man riding next to him maneuvered into a spot. When he stopped, she scrambled off quickly, and he rested the bike on its kickstand, climbing off himself.
Ghost and his brothers took a moment to stretch, some lighting up smokes before they began to head through the gate and bleed into the large compound.
Jessie moaned as she stretched and rubbed her sore ass.
Ghost grinned. “You sore, brat?”
“Uh, we did just ride all day, so yeah, I’m a little sore.”
Ghost chuckled, took her hand and led her inside the compound. She immediately noticed a large group of women waiting to greet the Omaha Chapter back like returning conquering heroes.
There was hugging and kissing and drinks passed around.
She soon found herself pressed against Ghost’s side, tucked under his arm, with a beer in her hand, standing among a group of his brothers. There was food cooking on several grills, and tables laden with food. The ol’ ladies obviously took care of their men, as well as all the visiting chapters. With no time wasted, the party started cranking up, and even though the men had to be tired from the ride in, it didn’t seem to slow them down in the least.
Jessie took it all in, watching the interactions between the men. But it was the women that fascinated her. Some openly stared at her, some with suspicion that bordered on hostility, some with just curiosity. She couldn’t stop herself from asking Ghost about it.
“Why are they staring at me?”
Ghost’s eyes followed the direction of her eyes.
“They’re wondering who the hell you are, and why you rode in with the club when they all know the annual run to Sturgis is for the club only, no ol’ ladies invited.”
“Should I be worried? Are they going to hassle me?” She knew they questioned why she was there. But apparently they knew better than to ask.
“Naw, since you didn’t show up with anybody from their chapter, they’ll pretty much let it go.” Ghost nodded in the direction of one of the meaner looking ol’ ladies. “Now if you had ridden in on the back of her ol’ man’s bike it’d be a different story.”
Jessie looked up at Ghost and saw the teasing twinkle in his eyes.
“Good thing I didn’t then, huh?”
He grinned. “Yup.”
Jessie took a sip of her beer, and then the thought crossed her mind that perhaps Ghost had an ol’ lady. Why hadn’t she thought of that? She’d never even considered it. Would she have to stand and watch some woman welcome him home with open arms? She felt her stomach drop at the thought. And even though she was almost afraid to hear the answer, the words came out of her mouth.
“Will there be an ol’ lady waiting for you when we get back to your clubhouse?”
“You worried about getting beat up?” he asked with a grin, and she couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. That wasn’t it at all. She was afraid of getting hurt, but not in the way he was talking about.
“You didn’t answer the question.”
“No, Jess, there’s no ol’ lady waitin’ on me.”
“Don’t let him fool you, darlin’. They’ll be women waitin’ on him, just no ol’ ladies,” Shades teased her with a grin, and then held a bottle of Jack Daniels out to her.
“Shut up,” Ghost told him as she took it and drank.
She imagined what Shades said was true. Ghost was a very good-looking man. Of course there’d be women, probably a whole line of them. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that, but she didn’t have time to consider it.
Another one of the members of Ghost’s chapter walked up, saying, “I think I’m in love.”
“Well, I’ve got just the cure for that, Hammer,” Ghost said, shoving a bottle of Tequila at him, probably glad for the timely interruption.
Hammer took it, grinning. “I just got a blow job from that cute redhead over there, and now she’s off getting me a burger and a beer.” He took a bow. “And that, my brothers, is how it’s done.”
Jessie stared at him with her mouth open.
He looked back at her with a shy grin and lifted his arms, his shoulders shrugging. “Hey, when you got it, you got it.”
Griz pulled a cigarette from his mouth and teased, “Yeah? Well five bucks says she’ll change her mind about you by morning.”
“Fuck off,” Hammer snapped back.
“Yeah, you can always tell how a woman really feels about you by the way she cuts your brake lines,” Heavy put in.
The others all turned to look at him.
“Maybe that’s just me,” he murmured.
Ghost turned to Shades and said, “Bet I stopped listening before you did.”
Shades burst out laughing, and Jessie giggled.
Ghost took the bottle out of her hand and handed it back to Shades. “Stop givin’ her booze, she’s a lightweight.”
“I am not,” she insisted, staring up at him, then ruined it by hiccupping.
Shades grinned down at her, then reached up and ruffled her hair. “You tell him, girl.”
“I think you’ve had enough partying, brat,” Ghost insisted.
Jessie looked up at Ghost. “Are we staying here tonight?”
“Naw. It’s crowded as fuck with all the chapters passing through, even with the Omaha boys crashing at their own cribs, there’s not much room here. Besides, I figured you’d be more comfortable in a motel.” His eyes connected with hers. “Am I right?”
She nodded and yawned.
Ghost smiled as he watched her.
“Aren’t you tired?” she asked.
“Yeah, a little. You obviously are.”
She hiccupped again, and both Shades and Ghost chuckled.
“Time to go, brat,” Ghost insisted, taking her by the arm and steering her through the crowd. He led her out to his bike, and they headed down the road.
Jessie laid her head down on Ghost’s back and held on tight. Surprisingly, she dozed off. Also surprisingly, she didn’t fall off.
CHAPTER SEVEN
A few miles from the Omaha Clubhouse, Ghost spotted a cheap motel and slowed to turn in. Just as he was making the turn across lanes and into the drive, a Cadillac with an old man driving roared out. Ghost swerved to avoid him, but the old man clipped his back tire, and Ghost lost control and laid the bike down. When he did, they slid about ten feet across the parking lot.
When they went down, Jess slid clear of the bike, but it landed on Ghost’s leg. He quickly scrambled to lift the six hundred pound bike off of where it had his leg pinned. As he did so, he twisted to see where Jess was and if she was okay. He called out to her. “Jessie! You okay?”
She didn’t respond right away, but he saw her roll over slowly and sit up. He yanked his leg free and scrambled to his feet, moving quickly to her side, favoring his left leg.
“Babe, are you hurt?” he asked, squatting down next to her.
She leaned to one side, her hand going to her hip and thigh, and wincing. “My side.”
Ghost rolled her, his hand pulling up her shirt and jacket to look. The skin was fine. Then he moved down to her hip and thigh, and he could see that when t
hey slid across the pavement, her shorts had been pushed up and exposed the skin between the bottom hem of her shorts and where the chaps started. There was about a three-inch scrape on her skin.
“Fuck, babe. I’m sorry.”
She struggled to sit up.
“You’re hurt. Just stay down.”
The manager of the motel came running out of the office.
“Are you okay?”
Ghost glanced up at the man. “I’m good. She’s hurt.”
“Do you want me to call 911?”
“No, please. I’m fine,” Jessie begged.
“You sure, babe?” Ghost asked her, frowning.
“It’s just a scrape.”
“There’s a first-aid kit in the office. It really should be cleaned up, ma’am.”
Ghost looked up at the man. “Yeah, that’d be good. We were pulling in to get a room. You got one?”
“Yeah, got one left, the handicapped room, first floor. Please, come in the office. Are you sure you don’t want to report this?”
“An old man in a Caddy hit us. He took off. He’s long gone by now. Nothin’ the cops can do about it now but file a report, and that’s a waste of time for all of us.”
The man nodded and glanced over to where Ghost’s bike still lay on its side in the middle of the parking lot. “Let’s get her inside, and I’ll help you with your bike.”
“Thanks, man.”
Fifteen minutes later, they were checked into a nearby ground floor room, Ghost’s bike parked outside the door. Luckily, the accident had just bent the passenger foot peg, scraped some paint and damaged his taillight. Yeah, he was pissed, but those were easy fixes. He was just thankful Jessie hadn’t been hurt more seriously. Especially when he noticed the scratches on her helmet as he removed it and set it on the dresser.
He guided her to sit on the bed and tossed the first-aid kit that the manager had given him onto the bed next to her. The man had offered to help her, but Ghost had declined. No way in hell was he letting the man put his hands on Jess, especially given that the area that needed attention happened to be on her lower hip.