Reverence: MC Romance (The Davis Chapter Book 3)

by Lynn, Davida

  One man stepped forward with a tight, forced smile on his face. “Welcome.” Nothing could ever sounded less welcoming in my entire life. “The name’s Trask.”

  Even without looking at his cut, I knew that Trask Rivers ran the Rising Sons. If I had a nickel for every time my dad cursed his name, I’d have my tuition paid for. Captain had called Trask every name in the book, but I never really knew why. There never seemed to be much reason besides hating them only because they existed.

  He extended a hand, and I took it. “I’ve heard your name once or twice.” I don’t know whether my attempt at being cool passed, but maybe it was more for me than for them.

  After a firm shake, he broke and turned back to his men. “Well, how about that? I’m famous.” Some of the men chuckled, but most of them didn’t take their eyes off me. Maybe I should’ve been a little more humble, I don’t know.

  “All right, all right. Don’t treat her like she’s her father.” Romero’s voice was cold, and I loved hearing him stick up for me. It made me feel like I was his.

  Trask turned back to me, any humor in his face completely gone. “So you know a thing or two about this here club. I think that’s as good a place to start as any, don’t you?”

  My eyes widened, and my heartbeat found even more speed. What kind of info did they want? “Look, I really don’t know much. My father bitches and moans about the Rising Sons twenty-four/seven, but it’s not like he goes into specifics with me.”

  “What’s the yearly take?”

  Before I could look to who had spoken, another biker chimed in, “What kind of weapons have they got squirreled away?”

  A husky voice filled with distain said, “Who do they have in their pocket?”

  I tried to follow the voices, but the questions came at me way too fast for me to handle. The tone was harsh from every biker in the joint.

  “How long you been fucking Romero?”

  Trask put his hands up. “All right, this isn’t the fuckin’ Spanish Inquisition. She’s not in the club, so let’s not grill her like she is. I wanna hear her story, and we’ll go from there, capische?“

  He looked around the room, but none of the bikers said a word. “That’s what I thought. Treat her like a damn lady, for fuck’s sake.” Trask turned to me, motioning toward a chair. “Why don’t you tell us your story, little darlin’?”

  As if my heart wasn’t racing enough, now I had to tell them my life’s story? Even Romero wasn’t enough to keep me from going crazy. I still felt like I was in the lion’s den.

  When I finally took a seat, I couldn’t stand to look at anyone but Romero. Any time my eyes scanned over the room, I kept them over the heads of the other Sons. I couldn’t make myself meet any of their hard gazes.

  I gave them a quick retelling. It wasn’t like I could give them a long one anyway. I didn’t know much about the club. The most valuable piece of information I had was that my dad had recently lost a big connection.

  “The head honcho. That’s all my dad ever called him. I didn’t know if it was guns or drugs. With the deal he was trying to arrange with Harris, guns would be my guess.”

  Trask stepped in, saying, “It actually is drugs. The head honcho was a distributor by the name of Blythe. He brought the product over from South America, and the Devil’s Branch then manage the shipments across the West Coast and most of the Southwest. Blythe was worth somewhere in the neighborhood of fifty mil a year.”

  I knew my father did bad things, some of those bad things probably happened to good people, but dealing hard drugs? Stuff that polluted humanity? It was almost impossible to imagine, but then I remembered how easily my father had tried to get me to be his bargaining chip. I didn’t think he was incapable of anything anymore.

  I looked from Romero to Trask. “I don’t understand. It really seems like he’s putting all his eggs in the weapons basket. Why?”

  The president shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe he’s expecting the South Americans to come up here. Maybe the D.B.s are trying to get out of the drug business and switch to guns. With all the ammo scares floating around lately, there’s a pretty penny to be made.”

  Romero stepped forward, frustration in his voice as he said, “Could we speculate later? We have a more pressing matter at hand. A body is going to be found by morning at the latest, and we know that they will pin it on us.”

  Trask stared at Romero for a second. “And? Aren’t they right to do point the blame at us?”

  “It was an accident. Ask Julie.”

  “You don’t understand.” Trask’s voice grew like a thunderhead. It made me actually flinch. “I don’t give a shit if a meteor struck him in the fuckin’ head. You were standing next to him when it happened, and so it’s on you. That’s what it means to have enemies. All they need is an excuse, and you gave them one wrapped in a shiny-ass bow, Romero. I got no problem with love. More power to you, but when you put the club in jeopardy by sleeping with the enemy? That really puts us in a bind. Are we taking down an entire motorcycle club because of your cock?”

  Romero started screaming at Trask, and every other biker in the place joined in the argument.

  Something inside of me broke. I knew they all hated me, but I just couldn’t take it any longer. I threw my hands over my face and ran for the door. I had to get outside for some fresh air.

  I was torn in two directions. My father had betrayed my trust, but did he deserve what the Rising Sons were planning? I didn't know.

  As I stood out in the blazing sun, my mind swirled. I could still hear the Sons arguing inside. Knowing that I was the cause of the fight only made things worse. Romero had stood up for me and gone against his entire club; his entire family.

  The door opened, the argument growing. I turned around, thinking Romero would be there to comfort me. It wasn’t Romero. It wasn’t anyone I had seen while I had been inside. She was in her mid-forties. I assumed she was someone’s ol’ lady coming out for a smoke. Turning away, I shook my head and sighed.

  “You’ve caused quite a ruckus in there.”

  My patience had already worn thin, and I was in no mood to be polite. I couldn't manage to give the woman more than, “Mm hm.”

  I was staring at the row of motorcycles. Each one of them belonging to another Rising Son. Romero’s bike stood out to me because I knew it so well. He was the only one who stood up for me. It took everything to stop me from kicking over the row of bikes over.

  The woman beside me flicked a lighter and took a drag. “Honey, you can be pissed all you want, but you’ve got to get your shit together.”

  The woman had pushed me over the edge. I spun back around, ready to vent every bit of frustration out at her. She was leaning against the wall, a tight smile on her face. The anger inside of me froze. There was something in her eyes that made me realize I’d regret blowing up at her. Instead, a tear fell down my cheek.

  She nodded and tapped at the end of her smoke. As the ashes fell, she spoke, “I’ve worked for the Sons as long as they’ve been in Davis. Never seen them so torn up over something or someone. Romero was their golden boy. Then a few months back, he started disappearing and missing some crucial work. You have anything to do with that?”

  Romero had mentioned once or twice that he’d skipped club business for me, but I never thought that it mattered so much. At the time, it was a romantic gesture. As the woman spoke, I realized that the world did consist of more than just the two of us.

  My voice quivered, “Yeah, I think I’m at fault there.” I gave her a sheepish smile.

  She nodded. “He has talked a lot about the woman he was seeing. There was a big fight that went down a few weeks back. I don't know much about it, but for two things: they were asking about why Romero wasn’t around, and one of their brothers —a good man— died in that fight.”

  “Oh my god.” I stared at her.

  The woman nodded. “I’m not saying he’d be alive if Romero had been in the fight, but the odds certainly
would have been better. I’m not telling you all of this to shovel more guilt onto you. I can see you’re already carrying your fair share. I’m telling you because you need to know why there’s one hell of a shouting match going on in there.”

  “I never meant for any of this to happen. I never meant for the fight to break out.”

  “No one ever does.” The woman pointed her cig toward the row of bikes. “Boys and their toys.” The woman sighed and shook her head like there was nothing to be done about it. “They don’t actually like the violence, you know. I think it’s mostly about saving face.”

  “It doesn’t sound like they’re trying to save face right now.”

  She let out a raspy laugh. “Oh, not now. They are giving your man all kinds of shit right now.”

  “Why? All he was doing was protecting me.”

  “Why? Oh, honey. Protecting you means he wasn’t protecting them. It’s the same as treason in their eyes.” She turned to me, and I realized that all of that anger was gone. Had Romero and I thrown everyone else under the bus for our own relationship? “They’ll finish up yelling, and they’ll all shake hands and drink their beers. You just gotta give them time.”

  “I don’t know if we have time. My father is looking to wipe this club off the map. As soon as they find Ty...” My voice caught in my throat. I couldn't finish the sentence, but we both knew. There would be a battle where more than one life would be lost.

  The woman flicked her cigarette and then threw her arms around me. “Honey, this is a hard life. You fall for a biker, you join that life. If you’re half as tough as Romero makes you sound, you’ll get through this.”

  I didn’t even know the woman’s name, but she was the closest thing I had to a friend. My college friends didn’t count anymore because they wouldn’t understand.

  “What’s your name?” My question was muffled against her shoulder, but she understood.

  “Donna.”

  “Which one of them are you with?” It probably sounded more condescending than I meant it to. Donna seemed strong enough to ride alongside any of the Rising Sons or Devil’s Branchers.

  She laughed. “Oh, honey, I’m my own woman. I manage the place and try my best to keep the boys in line. I had a thing going with someone for a while...” I could hear pain in her voice, and it made me wish I hadn’t pried.

  She gave me one more squeeze before pulling back. Donna was careful to hide it by looking away, but I saw her wipe a tear away. “But that’s done now. It’s for the best.”

  My heart ached, and for once, it wasn’t for myself. Donna had shown me more kindness than my own family and she didn’t even know me. My father always painted the Sons, not just as our enemies but as evil. I was beginning to think that he might’ve been wrong.

  Just as I was about to thank Donna for her simple act of kindness, the door to the bar flew open. It impacted the cinderblock wall with a thud as Romero stepped through. I jumped from the sock, but barely had time to say anything. He had me by the arm, damn near dragging me toward his chopper.

  “What’s going on?” My voice sounded meek like all the strength Donna had given me was gone.

  His eyes focused on something ahead of us. “We’re getting you somewhere safe. Things around here ain’t going to stay quiet much longer.”

  “What do you mean? Where are we going?” I yanked back on Romero’s arm, trying to get him to face me and explain things.

  In the background, Donna took a step forward. “If your man says go, you gotta go. He’s doing this to protect you.”

  “Donna’s right.” Romero was already firing up his motorcycle. “We got a tip that they are coming, and it’s not gonna be to sign some peace treaty.”

  Romero tossed me the half helmet. I knew there was no time to waste. As I strapped the helmet on, Donna gave me a sad kind of nod, then pushed her way back through the door to the Watering Hole. I froze, my fingers still on the strap at my chin.

  “Wait. What about them? Aren’t they coming?”

  Romero shook his head. Before I could reply, he twisted back the throttle, and we bounced through the gravel and onto the road. I turned back, wondering if I’d ever see the Watering Hole again; wondering if I’d ever see Donna again.

  We rode for over an hour. As we headed south, I wondered how far we’d have to travel to escape danger. When Romero slowed down and parked at the side of the highway, I thought we’d have some time to talk, but he pulled out his cell phone.

  “Yeah, we’re about three miles out.”

  I had no idea who he was talking to, and I couldn't hear the other end of the call. The last road sign that I could remember was for Tracy, California. We might as well have been in the middle of nowhere.

  “No, I’m heading back up north with you boys. Don’t stop, I’ll be turned around already.” He slid the phone back into a small case on his dash.

  I gave him a few seconds to explain himself, but instead, Romero fired the bike back up and made a U-turn in the dirt of the shoulder. Once we were facing north, again, he turned back to me and yelled, “You’re heading to Bakersfield. Some of the boys from their chapter are coming up. We’re going to need the muscle.”

  As he spoke, I heard the air rumble behind me. When I turned to look, I couldn't see much in the distortion of the highway heat. From the ether, the motorcycle made themselves known. At first I only saw one or two, but more seemed to appear from the shimmering road. My heart pounded at the understanding. It wasn’t a fight. It wasn’t a battle. It was an all-out war.

  “No. Don’t you leave me behind.” I pounded a fist against Romero. “I can’t lose you.” Even as I said those last words, I stepped from the back of Romero’s bike. It was just like Donna had told me. I had to let him protect me.

  “I can’t lose you, either. That’s why I have to go. Head down to Bakersfield and wait for me.”

  I ripped the helmet from my head and threw my arms around Romero. Feeling his hand at the small of my back, I kissed him with every bit of passion that I had. Tears streamed down my cheeks, but I didn’t care. He had to go finish what I had started. He’d be ending it, and he’d either come back for me, or not at all. If Romero wasn’t coming back, I wanted him to feel my kiss until the very end. He let out a grunt as the roar of motorcycles got closer. I broke the kiss.

  “No, no. Please don’t let them take you.”

  Romero pulled me back, resting a hand at the back of my neck. He lifted the world from my shoulders with his powerful lips. The heat of the road rose up, just as the heat between my legs did. I wanted nothing more than to strip him down to nothing and let him make me his woman. I needed it, but I knew it wouldn't happen right then and there.

  The first Harley passed us, and just a few seconds later, some ten or fifteen more rolled past, kicking up wind and dirt. I had to pull myself from Romero and watch them as they passed. The roar was terrifying because I still felt like I was behind enemy lines. Romero’s hand was at my cheek, and he pulled me back to his gaze. It was strong, and one I’d never forget.

  “I will be back for you. You hear me, Julie? I’ll be back for you, and we’ll pick up right where we left off.” His large hand was at my ass. He pulled me closer. “If I remember right, we were right about there.” He squeezed, and I couldn't help but smile. He was a man with only one thing on his mind. To be fair, it had been the only thing on my mind for a while, too.

  I gave him my strongest, most confident smile. “You better. You just better.” I gave him one last quick kiss that absolutely gutted me. “Get going.”

  Before I could say another word, he fired up the chopper and took off to catch up with the rest of the Rising Sons heading north. I watched him fade into the distance.