Outlaw Ride

by Sarah Hawthorne

  Clint grabbed my waist and rolled so that he was propped against the pillows and I was resting on his chest, my legs on either side of his hips. “Baby,” he started, “I’m gonna make a lot of promises and I’m gonna keep them all, okay?”

  I kissed his chest and waited for him to continue.

  “If I have doubts or problems or fears, I’m gonna tell you, and we’re gonna talk about it. If I’m not sure what to do, I’m gonna tell you and we’re gonna talk about it. If I think about gambling ever again, I’m going to tell you and we’re gonna talk about it. Do you understand? I know that I was a douchebag by just ending things between us and not explaining my reasons and my fears. I promise that I will always respect you enough to include you in that conversation and I’m sorry I didn’t before. I love you.”

  “I love you.” I kissed him and angled my hips so that his dick was at my opening, and then I began to ride.

  “I love you,” I repeated. Over and over.

  * * *

  Clint still had some things to tie up with the Silver Souls in Reno, so I took a flight back home. I spent the night in the college’s twenty-four-hour library cramming for my state boards. It was hard to put everything that happened in Reno behind me so I could focus, but I managed.

  By the time I got to the State Health building in downtown Seattle where the test was being held, I was ready. Exhausted—but ready. The first part of the test was the practical. I knew I aced that part, but then I had to take the knowledge test. That was the big computerized test of medical terms. Anatomy, physiology, microbiology, charting, hospital process, the test had it all. After three hours, I hit Submit and the computerized test began to calculate my results. I squirmed in my seat as the little wheel on the computer spun and spun.

  The computer dinged and I forced myself to look at the screen.

  Test Result: PASS

  Holy crap. I’d done it. I was gonna be a registered nurse. I let out a long breath. I’d worked at this goal for four years. There it was, the word PASS.

  My knees shook as I walked out of the building.

  “Hey!” Rachel called from across the lobby. She’d taken her test in a different room. “Did you pass? I passed!”

  “I passed too!” I shouted, and she caught me in a big bear hug.

  “We did it!” She pulled back and had tears in her eyes.

  Soon all of my classmates were pouring out of the building and joining us on the front steps. We still had graduation coming, but this was our biggest milestone. A few were comparing scores, but most of us were handing out hugs and handshakes. I was talking to Cassie, one of my study partners from the first year, when the crowd quieted and then an anxious murmur ran through everyone.

  “He looks like trouble,” Cassie said, looking over my shoulder. “Wonder what he wants with us?”

  I turned to see who everyone was talking about. Dressed head to toe in black leather was a very dangerous-looking biker—Clint. He was holding his helmet, so he must have ridden pretty much all night from Reno.

  After running down the steps, I threw my arms around him. In a sea of blue and green scrubs, the man in black leather swept me off my feet and spun me around.

  “I take it this means you passed?” he asked, setting me back down.

  “Yes!” I squealed.

  “You must be Clint,” Rachel said from behind me. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

  Clint was a good sport as I introduced him to all of my friends from nursing school. I could see the lines under his eyes. He was tired and I kept things short.

  “You ready to go?” I asked. “Where are you parked? I’ll follow you home.”

  “Roach is waiting at your car.” He grabbed my hand and we started walking toward his bike. “And we’re going straight to the clubhouse.”

  My stomach dropped to my knees and not in a good way. “Is there something wrong? Is it about what happened in Reno?”

  “Yeah, it’s about Reno.” He leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to my lips. “There’s a party happening and we need the guest of honor—that’s you.”

  “Me? My honor?” I asked, confused. “What are you talking about?”

  “Tate wants to honor the newest badass friend of the Demon Horde.” He offered me his hand. “That’s you, by the way. And I want to ride in to the club with you on the back of my bike, so that everyone knows you’re my old lady. What do you say?”

  “Yes!” The word caught in my throat, but I willed myself not to cry. This was my first ride and I wanted to remember every minute. He showed me where to put my foot and I squeezed his hand as I got on the bike behind him. I buckled on a helmet and then wrapped my hands around his waist. “Yes.”

  Epilogue

  Jo

  Clint and I curled up on the sofa and watched the blinking lights on the Christmas tree. We’d had an early Christmas with Nana and the rest of his family last weekend, but I had to work the holiday. I was the new girl in the operating room and got the crappiest shifts, but I didn’t care. I loved my new job and my new life with Clint.

  As the lights twinkled, I heard a noise. Scratching—like when mice scratch at drywall.

  “Did you hear that?” I asked, frowning. I was draped over his chest, half asleep, my empty wineglass on the coffee table. “Do we have a mouse?” Sitting up, I tried to listen for the direction of the noise.

  “We don’t have a mouse,” Clint whispered. “It was your Christmas present.”

  “You’re installing air-conditioning in my car,” I reminded him. It wasn’t a particularly romantic gift, but I was excited. “How did it make that noise? Oh, there it is again.” It was coming from the tree. Under the tree.

  “I told you, it’s your present.” He got off the couch and pulled out a box that was hidden behind the tree. It was wrapped with unfamiliar paper and no ribbon.

  “What’s this?” I asked, as he handed me the box. “Why does it have holes?” The box made another noise. I ripped into the wrapping.

  It was a kitten. An orange-striped kitten. The animal jumped out of the box and immediately began climbing up my shirt and into my hair. I laughed.

  “Who is this?” I asked, as I untangled it from my hair. I took a quick peek at the cat’s underside. “You’re an adventurous little girl, aren’t you?”

  “Bettes dropped her off a few minutes ago when you were in the shower.” He laughed. “Since things are permanent between us, I thought we could have a pet.”

  “I guess things are permanent between us.” I held the squirming kitty between us and kissed Clint.

  The kitten was trying to climb up my shirt with her tiny claws catching at my skin. I pulled her off and held her up in the air. That’s when I noticed something twinkling on her collar.

  It was a ring. Five diamonds, channel set. The one I had picked out in the pawnshop six months ago. The kitten wriggled out of my hands.

  “Clint...” I didn’t know what to say. I knew we were coming toward this point in our relationship, but I wasn’t prepared for all of the feelings welling up in my chest. Ever since I met him, I had found love, partnership, a home, and a family—all with this man.

  And now he’d gotten me a ring. It wasn’t any ring, it was the one he had noticed that I liked, even when we weren’t sure of each other. Even then he was thinking of me.

  I started to cry. It wasn’t pretty little teardrops on my cheeks like you see in the movies. It was hard, heaving sobs.

  “Baby?” Clint wrapped his arms around me. “Is everything okay? Is it too soon? Do you need more time?”

  “No, no,” I wailed, shaking my head. “It’s the ring.”

  “Thank god. I thought you were breaking up with me.” He kissed my forehead. “We can get you whatever you want. As long as we love each other, that’s what matters.”

  “It’s perfect,” I ma
naged to choke out. I hiccupped. “The ring is perfect. I can’t believe you remembered.”

  “Yes, I remembered.” He laughed, somewhere between amusement and relief. “Where’s the cat? I have to get it off her collar.”

  We found the kitten playing with the wrapping paper under the coffee table. Clint removed the ring from her collar and put it on my finger. I kissed him through my laughter and tears.

  “I can’t wait to tell Nana,” Clint said.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from REBEL CUSTODY by Sarah Hawthorne.

  Rebel Custody

  by Sarah Hawthorne

  Chapter One

  Skeeter

  I liked to keep my back to the wall. It was a habit I developed in the Registan Desert. But tonight I was just in a neighborhood hangout, a strip club called Jiggles. I surveyed the strip club from a corner near the pool tables. A woman danced onstage while a rock song played. The booming bass had a slight buzz. The strip club’s sound system had blown a few speakers last year, but no one bothered to replace them.

  When it was my turn, I leaned across the green felt. Bank shot. Three ball into the corner pocket. I closed my eyes and let the cue slide through my fingers. The balls cracked together. I heard the thump off the side cushion and then the rattle as the ball sank into the pocket. Easy.

  I opened my eyes to set up my next shot.

  “Hey, genius.” Clint laughed. “You’re stripes. Thanks for taking care of one of my balls, though.”

  Fuck. I looked at the table. He was right; I was stripes. I hadn’t been paying attention. Instead of returning to my favorite spot against the wall, I sat on a stool in front of the bar.

  “Hi, baby.” Asia, one of my favorite pay-to-play hookups, leaned in close. “I’d be happy to take care of your balls, but how about you buy me a drink first?”

  I rolled my eyes and asked the bartender to get her a beer.

  Asia pouted. “You haven’t called me in weeks.” She stuck her lower lip out. “I could call a friend, and the three of us could have our own personal party. Remember how fun it was that time?”

  Tempting. Asia was always enthusiastic and willing to please in bed, especially if it would earn her a big tip.

  “Actually, I don’t really remember much of that night.” I sipped on my beer. “I haven’t been in the mood lately.”

  “Oh!” She smiled and started to root through her huge purse. “I got stuff for that.”

  I put my hand on her shoulder. “That’s not what I meant. I’m just not interested, okay?”

  What the hell was wrong with me? Asia was tall with long legs that she could bend any which way I wanted. And her fees were reasonable. But sex had just lost its thrill. It was the same old shit. Women in skimpy outfits trying to entice me to buy, which I often did. Then a meaningless meet-up in my room at the clubhouse and a morning alone.

  Maybe I could soften the blow. “Why don’t you go hang out with Clint?”

  We both looked over at him—he was chatting up a blonde stripper in a purple dress. Asia frowned.

  “Well, maybe I’ll just make a new friend tonight. Thanks.” She walked away, hips swinging. I knew she wanted me to take a good look at her ass and change my mind, but I just didn’t care.

  Leaning against the bar, I finished off my beer and surveyed the room. Hanging out at a strip club all the time was getting tiring. The constant noise and empty flirting made me wish for a night at home, and not just a night in my room at the MC. I bought a house last year and never fucking stayed there. I was always partying. Maybe it was time to move.

  I tried to catch Clint’s eye; I was thinking of making the long drive out to my place. He was still talking to the blonde, so I decided to hit the john. Strip club bathrooms were always nasty. No matter how much froufrou crap they piled in there, it was still a urinal in a titty house.

  As I was zipping up, something touched the back of my neck.

  Cold. Hard. Steel.

  Fuck.

  “Thought I’d find you here.”

  The man’s thick Cajun accent brought me home, the voice vaguely familiar. My father’s face floated in my head before I remembered the fucking gun pressed to my neck.

  “I know you?” I started to turn to see who this fucker was.

  He cocked the hammer. I froze. It’s a distinctive click, and when it’s pressed below your ear, it’s real fucking loud.

  “Well, then put away the gun and we’ll go get a beer.” The barrel pressing into my neck eased off, and I heard him release the hammer. “I’m turning around now,” I told him.

  Holding the pistol was Davide Lavernge. A year or two behind me in school, he had been a class clown who dealt a little weed on the side.

  “How ’bout dat drink?” He grinned.

  Davide followed me over to the bar, and we ordered a round. I sucked on my beer and studied the piece of shit next to me. His sour breath wafted over from two bar stools away. He smelled like crawfish three days after the boil.

  Davide licked the salt off his lips and combed peanut shells out of his beard. His face was lined and weathered, his teeth yellow. He was no longer the happy-go-lucky guy I used to know.

  “Tacoma, Washington, is damn far from Breaux Bridge, Louisiana. What’re you doing this far north, Davide?”

  He put down the beer I had paid for and turned toward me. “I’m here about child support.”

  He must be in a shit ton of trouble if he was coming to me for help. I shrugged. “How much do you owe?”

  He shook his head. “You owe me, Skeeter. Forty large. I been taking care of your kid.”

  The world went fuzzy, so I blinked. Again. My vision was clear, but my brain didn’t quite understand what Davide had just said.

  “Embrassemoitchew.” Kiss my ass. I pushed back from the bar. “I haven’t been back to Breaux Bridge in years. I don’t got no kid.”

  Davide scratched at his beard. “After you joined the Army, Delphie realized she was pregnant. She decided she wanted to raise it on her own. That’s why she dumped you.”

  Delphie. My first love. We had been nineteen and full of dreams. Well, I was full of dreams, and she was full of meth, weed, whatever else she could get her hands on. I put a tiny ring on her finger and then packed up for boot camp. The letter came two days after I arrived in Afghanistan. Classic Dear John. I read it in my bunk and then had to find a private place to fucking punch something. A captain saw me, and I spent the next three weeks cleaning latrines in the Registan Desert.

  I narrowed my eyes. I wasn’t about to fall for his line of shit. “She never told me she was pregnant.”

  “Don’t matter. You got a kid that you ain’t never paid child support for. So, by my accounting, you owe me forty Gs.” Davide shrugged and stuffed more peanuts in his mouth.

  I rolled my eyes. That’s what this was about. “This is a goddamn shakedown. If there was a kid, Delphie would be serving me with papers. You’re bullshitting me, and you fucking know it.”

  Davide stared at me, cold, hard. This was not the man I used to know. Back then he sold a little weed and raised a lot of hell. He was always quick to laugh, the life of the boil. Whatever he was into now had changed him.

  “Delphie overdosed about six years ago. Don’t matter, though. You got a fucking kid, and I want my fucking money. Once you get that through your head, call me. Else I’ll come find you again. I promise you that.” He handed me an old-fashioned matchbook with the name of a dive motel and a cell phone number scrawled in pencil. “Kid is here with me.”

  Davide got up and left me with the tab.

  The matchbook was blue with a red stylized horse. Cowboy Motel. Printed on the back was a map. It was just off the highway, south of town, in the middle of a bunch of apple orchards. Tourists would drive right on by and find a room in Seattle or Tacom
a. This place was meant only for truckers or the kind of people who didn’t like to deal with society. The kind of people who would blackmail someone for child support for a kid that didn’t exist.

  This was just another way for the Lavernge family to screw me over. Delphie had dumped me as soon as deeper pockets had come along, and now Davide was trying to milk me for all I was worth. I had enough to make ends meet, but forty grand wasn’t sitting in my back pocket for a rainy day.

  I ran my thumb over the top of the matchbook and felt ridges. In the light of the bar, I could just make out indentations from a pen. Something was written on the inside. I flipped open the damn matchbook and saw a drawing. There wasn’t much room, but someone had drawn a sun with sunglasses. The rays of the sun weren’t quite even, and the lines all wobbled. A kid had drawn it.

  What if I did have a kid? What if Delphie had been pregnant when I shipped out? I did some quick calculations. The kid would be nine or ten. I thought of myself at that age, all skinned knees and dirty hands. If I had a kid, what would he or she be like?

  I flipped the matchbook over and stared at the map printed on the back. Same shitty location, right off the interstate. Davide was pretty desperate if he’d come all the way up here to Washington State hoping to get a lot of cash. I didn’t know what Davide was mixed up in, but it was bad, and no child should be caught up in it.

  I paid my tab and went to find Clint at the pool table. If this was blackmail, I was gonna need reinforcements.

  * * *

  An hour later me and Rip and Clint cut our engines and parked in a field behind the motel. It was easy to track down which room belonged to Davide. There was a beat-up blue truck with Louisiana plates parked at the far end, as far away as possible from the motel office and the security camera.

  So we crouched with ivy up to our goddamn shoulders and waited. The lights flickered in the room, like someone was watching television.