by Ora Wilde
I stopped.
She looked at me. Her eyes sparkled with surprise and dismay. She wanted to ask why. I grinned at her before she could even open her mouth.
I stood up and resumed nibbling her neck.
“I don’t want you to come,” I said. “Not yet.”
“Why?” she asked with the most tender of tones, her head tilting away from my face and giving me more of her to cherish.
“Because I want you.”
“You have me.”
“I won’t stop wanting you.”
“That’s... nice...” she replied with bewilderment, intrigued by what I said.
“But I want this moment to last a little more...”
“Why?” she wanted to know, continuing to moan as my tongue sailed all over her skin.
I stopped what I was doing. Our foreheads met, our noses touched at the tips, and our warm breaths skidded throughout each other’s chin. “I want to remember this,” I answered, looking straight into her eyes, desperately wanting her to know how much I longed for her, how much I desired her.
She smiled.
“You say that as if this is the last time we’ll be together,” she replied.
“Can’t blame me if I’m preparing for the worst,” I told her.
“You don’t have to,” she answered as she caressed my cheek with her tepid hand.
“You mean...” I began to say, wanting to clarify what she just said, wanting to know that it wasn’t just my hopes that made me optimistic about what I heard.
She didn’t allow me to finish my question though.
“Yes,” she quickly responded.
I smiled back before grabbing her beautiful ass and pulling her groin closer to mine. I lowered my face until my mouth met her breasts as my hand played with her wet cunt. She released a series of sensual grunts as my finger moved smoothly across her clit. I felt her pussy get even more damp. She was ready once more, and so was I.
A knock at the door disturbed us just as I was positioning my cock to enter her.
Shit!
I tried to ignore the intrusion by proceeding, but she gently pushed me away.
“Lenny,” she called my attention, wanting me to check on the reason behind the rap outside.
“Should I?” I asked, hoping for a favorable answer.
“Yes,” she said, much to my disgruntlement.
“Yeah?” I yelled angrily at the person who was bothering us.
“Jonas is here,” the voice came back. I recognized it as one of the patches from Topeka.
I sighed before looking at Samantha’s beautiful face once again. I was expecting her to be just as frustrated as I was, but to my surprise, she was smiling at me.
“You probably think this is funny, huh?” I asked her as I gently stroked her hair.
“What? That my dad gave you blue balls?” she quipped with a damn cute smirk. “Couldn’t be the worst thing that happened to us the past twenty-four hours.”
“I just... don’t want this to end...” I confessed.
She brushed her fingers against my cheek. Our naked bodies were still pressed against each other, yet she arched her back to make me feel more of her... or to allow her to feel more of me. It didn’t matter. I savored how close she was to me at that moment.
“It won’t,” she said, the words I desperately wanted to hear. “Now, let’s get dressed and take care of things. As you’ve said earlier, we’re not out of the woods yet.”
We went out of the stockroom some five minutes later, fully clothed and all. We made sure that there were no traces of our abruptly ended escapade. We straightened out whatever creases marred our tops. I helped her fix her hair. She grabbed a crate, the contents of which she didn’t even know, just to provide an excuse as to why we were there.
As soon as we stepped out of the small room, however, we encountered Jonas. He was standing just a few feet outside the door. The patches from San Mateo formed a straight line behind him. Most of them had their arms crossed over their chests. All of them displayed a glower, but none was more intimidating than the scowl on the president’s face.
Samantha dashed towards her father. She gave him a tight embrace. He hugged her back and kissed her forehead.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. Her voice was cracking. She was crying. “I’m so sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize for, pumpkin,” Prez told her as he continued to caress her back. “You’ve been a brave girl. Getting captured... that wasn’t your fault.” Over her shoulders, Prez gave me an angry glare, as if he was telling me that I was the one who fucked up.
“No,” Samantha countered, still in tears. “I’m sorry for everything, dad. For how I’ve lived my life... for blaming you for what happened to mama... for blaming you for everything bad that ever happened to me... I’m so sorry for all of them, daddy. I love you. I love you so much.”
“I love you too, sweetie,” Prez replied as he tightened his hold on her even more. “You’re safe now, and that’s what’s important. God damn it! I thought I lost you. I don’t know what I would’ve done if they harmed you in any way...”
“I’m here, daddy,” she answered back. “Lenny... he... he saved me...”
“Well, he shouldn’t have lost you in the first place,” Prez scornfully said as he gave me another furious look.
“Dad!” Samantha began to complain.
“Give me a minute, pumpkin,” he told her. “I have to settle things with the prospect.”
“What do you mean settle things?” she wanted to know. A tint of concern blighted her question.
He held her arm and gently pulled her aside. Then he walked towards me.
“You’re always gonna screw things up, eh?” he asked, angrily still.
“I... I made things right,” I replied.
“By taking down an entire charter of theirs?”
“They took down an entire charter of ours.”
“We lost nine men. They lost forty. You think they’ll consider that fair?”
“I didn’t even think about that. I just wanted to get her outta there.”
“Forty-nine bodies in two counties. The feds will be all over this case. That’s a lot of heat for the club. I guess you didn’t think about that too?”
I found his indignant tone quite surprising. “I’m sorry, Prez... but you didn’t seem that... displeased... when I talked to you on the phone a few hours ago,” I told him.
“A few hours ago, I found out that my daughter - my only daughter - was safe. I was overjoyed. But now...”
“Now?”
“Things have started to sink in.”
“What do you mean, Prez?”
“Give me your kutte, son,” he ordered. Screwdriver and Macho took a step forward as if they were telling me that they were more than willing to rip the vest off my body if I refused to follow Prez’s command.
I could only think of one reason why Jonas wanted me to surrender my kutte. He was kicking me out of the club. Was it because of what I did to save Samantha? Was it because I didn’t inform him before I acted? Or was it for another reason he has yet to discuss with me? That he didn’t like what he saw... me and his daughter coming out of a small room together after doing whatever dirty things he imagined.
I didn’t want to get thrown out of the club. After I was sent home from Cairo, I spent all my nights and days agonizing over what I have done. The club gave me a renewed sense of purpose, a feeling of belonging, and some much needed diversions to help me cope up with the trauma of what I’ve gone through. I’ve dedicated my life to the Filthy Dogs, and since the first day they made me a prospect, I’ve promised myself that I’d die for this club.
This club... it has become more than a group I wanted to be a part of. It has become my family. My life.
And now... now they’re taking it away.
I stood, motionless, in front of the patches for a few seconds. My head tipped downwards. I was too sad and angry and ashamed that I couldn’t even lo
ok at them.
“Dad, what’re you doing?” I heard Samantha asked with alarm.
“Give me your fucking kutte,” Prez repeated his command with a voice that was more enraged than before.
With much reluctance, I did. I extended my hand to offer my vest. Macho stepped forward to take it away from me.
“I am grateful that you saved my daughter,” Prez proceeded to say. “But you weren’t thinking. You were brash and impetuous and intrepid. You compromised the club.”
I wanted to apologize. I wanted to ask for another chance to prove myself worthy. But words failed to leave my mouth.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Macho take my kutte to the other end of the pub, near the main door. He was going to dispose of it. Burn it, most probably, as was always the case with the kuttes that rats and quitters and cowards used to own.
Prez continued to glare at me for a couple of minutes, and so did the rest of the patches behind him. Razor, his veep, even mumbled some curses. His eyes were covered by the dark glasses he wore, but I was certain they were burning with loathing.
All of a sudden, Macho came running back to where we were, holding my kutte like it was a pillow with a ring during a wedding.
“Done, Prez,” he informed Jonas.
Prez grabbed my kutte from Macho’s hands and held it up. He carefully studied the back portion of the vest before nodding his head. Then he threw it towards me. I almost failed to catch it.
I looked at my kutte and my eyes widened with shock.
There used to be a single patch in front, one that displayed my position in the club: prospect. It was gone. In its place were four stitched pieces of fabric, two on each side. The top patch on the right side read Filthy Dogs MC, and the one at the bottom had the words San Mateo embroidered on it. The top patch on the left side read Main Crew, and the one below it read F.F.F.D.F.F.
I couldn’t contain my excitement. I turned the kutte around and checked its back.
My eyes skipped the upper rocker, which proudly stated the club’s name, and the logo in the middle. I wanted to see if the bottom rocker - the last patch the club would give a prospect before he would become a full-fledged member - was there.
It was. Two words embellished the horizontal tier.
San Mateo.
I couldn’t help but smile with joy and pride. I didn’t even notice that the patches have formed a circle around me. One by one, they hugged me. Some kissed my cheek. Others affectionately slapped my face. One even squeezed my butt but I didn’t see who he was, though if I were to make a smart guess, I’d say it was Rotten. One word was repeated over and over again during the minute or so when they celebrated my appointment: congratulations.
The patches quickly dispersed. Then, Prez approached me. He placed his hand on my shoulder.
“Brother,” he said with the warmest smile he ever gave me.
I hugged him. He hugged me back.
We were still locked in an emotional embrace when he whispered something in my ear.
“Give me your kutte.”
It was the same thing he ordered earlier. His words made me nervous once again, but I had to trust him.
So, I did as he asked.
Once my kutte was in his possession, however, he tore the San Mateo patch in front of my vest as well as the bottom rocker at the back which also displayed the town’s name. Then, Macho gave him what looked like another bottom rocker.
Prez returned my kutte as well as the new patch which I assumed I had to sew myself. The fabric contained one word that sent shivers down my spine.
Nomad.
“What does this mean, Prez?” I asked, my eyes still glued on my kutte.
“Because of that stunt you pulled off at Tulare, the Godlesses retreated,” he answered. “They left San Mateo and requested for an immediate truce. But you know and I know that such a peace won’t last. They’ll be hungry for retaliation. They just need time to regroup. And when they do... they’ll be after you... and they’ll be after my daughter.”
“I won’t let them harm her,” I assured him.
“I know,” he said. “That’s why I’m stripping you of your membership with the mother charter.”
“Why?” I demanded to know. His reason wasn’t clear to me.
“You’ll be a nomad, for now and in the foreseeable future,” he began to explain. “You’ll be excluded from any of the charters’ rosters. You won’t have to report your whereabouts to anyone. You’re free to go wherever you want. You’re beholden to no specific charter rules.”
“But... how can I keep her safe if I won’t be around to protect her?” I asked as I looked at Samantha. She was just as confounded as I was.
“Simple,” Prez replied. “She’ll be with you.”
“She’ll what?” I responded in disbelief.
“It’s the only way to keep her away from harm. She has to be on the move at all times. So she has to be with you.”
“But...” I muttered, wanting to protest only to remember that I wasn’t in a position to complain.
“Jesus Christ, brother!” Prez remarked. “Don’t fucking tell me this isn’t what you want. I know... they know... every damn person in this building knows... you’re in love with my daughter.”
The patches sniggered as I tried to curtail a smile. I saw Samantha’s cheeks turn red with embarrassment.
I could’ve denied it, but that wouldn’t have been right. I was caught. I was cornered. And the accusation was truer than fragrance of a rose and the light of day.
So I just extended my hands to my sides and allowed my smile to come through.
“You got me, Prez,” I acknowledged.
The patches yelled their ayes as if they were voting at the chapel. I took it as a gesture of their acquiescence, a way for them to express that they’ve given me their blessings.
“So ride, nomad,” Prez continued. “Ride far and ride safe, and keep my daughter away from harm.”
“I will, Prez,” I promised.
Samantha ran towards me and wrapped her arms around my neck. She began to pepper my cheek with what seemed like a thousand kisses, delighted by the promise of sharing a life with me... no matter how difficult or inconvenient that life may be.
“Pumpkin, I’m not done with Lenny yet,” her father said. “Give us a couple of minutes. We need a little privacy.” He turned to face the brothers. “And that goes for all of you, too. Go get something to drink. I need to have a little quiet chat with Lenny.”
“Hey, no problem boss,” Screwdriver remarked. “We don’t wanna get in the way of some father and son-in-law bonding,” he continued as the rest of the Dogs laughed with him.
They left us alone but Prez didn’t think that was enough. He led me to the room where Samantha and I came from. His nose crumpled and his eyes narrowed as soon as we entered.
“Smells like sex in here,” he commented.
“Uhm... it’s stuffy in here,” I reasoned out. “Place is like a toaster.”
He sighed. Then he closed the door. Whatever he wanted to talk about, it was certain that he didn’t want anyone else to hear.
“We have a traitor,” he told me, his voice was full of trepidation.
“I know,” I answered, reminded of what I thought about just before I proceeded to rescue Samantha. “The Godlesses... they shouldn’t have known that I was bringing her to Essex, yet, they were there before we arrived.”
“Not only that, but Essex... they had a new clubhouse. Barely two weeks old. It’s well-hidden, as you’re now aware of. The locals there don’t even know where it is. But somehow, the Godlesses managed to find it.”
“So, who do you think is the fucking snitch?”
“I wish I can tell you,” he said. His face scrunched up, revealing the lines on his forehead. “But the truth is, I don’t have a damn clue. I’ve been observing everyone since Essex went down. Tried looking for the smallest sign of fear or apprehension... or maybe even remorse. I got nothing. It’s hard to get
a read of what’s in their heads when all of them were angry about that incident, and anger... well... anger is the easiest emotion to fake.”
“But things are starting to settle down...”
“For the time being, yes.”
“And whoever this rat is, he’s sure to make a mistake... and we’ll get him, right?”