Resistance

by K E Osborn

  His concerned stare tells me everything.

  He knows, just like I do.

  It changed nothing.

  I slowly detach from him, my breathing trying to come back to normal, and I straighten out my top as I look to him one final time. “Goodbye, Rylan.”

  He merely nods but doesn’t say anything in return as I spin heading for his door. I open it, hesitate, but don’t turn back as I walk out, my heart feeling heavy as I close the door with a click.

  The sudden unmistakable sound of something smashing in the room, followed by a deep, heavy grunt startles me, but I need to follow through.

  I’ve made my decision.

  I have to stick to it.

  This life—it’s too much.

  It’s too high risk.

  I need simple… right?

  Taking a shaky breath, I walk back out into the clubroom, and Neala is by my side almost instantly. I smile weakly as she approaches.

  “You look sad. Are you okay?”

  Shrugging, I swallow hard. “Honestly, I have no idea.”

  Neala wraps her arm around my shoulders and pulls me to her. “I know this would have been an eye-opener for you today. But trust me, these guys are tough, and they look out for their own. I know all this was scary for you, but don’t worry, Torque will always look after you. He cares about you too damn much to let anything happen to you.”

  My stomach sinks, and I wince as she watches me. I don’t know if I should tell her or not. But I figure I should probably just get the hell out of here.

  First, though, I need to thank Bex.

  “Hey, do you know where Bex is?”

  She nods with a smile. “Yeah, just over there, with Chains. Giving him a lecture probably.”

  I raise my brow. “So, are they like… a thing?”

  Neala bursts out laughing. “As in a couple? Oh God no. Don’t ever say that to them. Both of them would probably stab you. Chains and Rebecca Kline are brother and sister.”

  I let out a puff of air which blows my hair back. “Wait… what?”

  She nods. “I mean, not like blood brother and sister, but Bex’s parents took Chains in as a foster child when he was like ten or something like that. So yeah, they’re family. They consider themselves siblings. They fight like brother and sister that’s for damned sure.”

  “Huh… would never have guessed. I thought she was a scorned ex-lover.”

  Neala chuckles. “Ha! I would love to see you tell her that.”

  Shaking my head, I purse my lips. “I think I better not. Thanks, Neala.”

  She smiles. “Call me Lala, everyone else does.”

  Nodding, I give her a brief smile and then take off toward Bex and Chains. As I approach, I hear them generally chatting in a witty banter until Bex notices me and smiles wide.

  “Heeley… just the woman I wanted to see. Sit. I have a proposition for you.”

  I nod and take a seat between her and Chains.

  “You did great work today. I checked over everyone you worked on besides Torque, and I love your skillset. It does need a little improvement, but for your first attempt, and with the right mentoring, I think I could have you working wonderfully.”

  Raising my brow, I wonder if I caught that right. “Umm… wait, you could have me working wonderfully?”

  She nods. “Yes. I’d like you to come in under me and do some training at the hospital. I’ll take you in and teach you the ropes. You can shadow me. Of course, it won’t be hands-on, but it will be a foot in the door before med school. What do you think?”

  Opening my eyes as wide as my mouth, I gasp. “Shit! Are you kidding me?”

  She laughs. “Nope. Not kidding. Deadly serious. But I won’t have you messing about. I want full commitment.”

  Nodding, I smile. “Yes, of course. Full commitment is what you’ll have for sure.”

  She smiles and pulls out a business card and hands it to me. “Here’s my card. Call me tomorrow when we’re all a little more focused, and we’ll arrange a start date and time.”

  “Wow! Thank you, Bex.”

  She nods. “And from now on, I’ll be Doctor Kline. Have to be professional. You understand, Heeley.”

  I nod. “Yes, Doctor Kline.”

  She smiles, and I take the card from her and stand up. “Thank you, I’ll call tomorrow.”

  “Talk soon. Good work today.”

  Smiling, I turn and head over to my first-aid kit and start to pack it away feeling a mixture of emotions. I’m elated that I’ve been given a great opportunity to work with Bex, but equally devastated that things with Torque are officially off the cards.

  My smile falls, and I finish packing up my bag as I turn, taking in the clubhouse. I doubt I’ll ever be here again. I take a deep breath looking at all the men and women here. Yanking the strap over my shoulder, I spin and head for the door, not taking a second look as I head out to my car. The feeling of dread washes over me as tears well in my eyes at the loss of something that could have been so good, but the ever-present dangers are just too real.

  So I have to leave.

  It’s the right thing to do.

  Especially now my career is heading in the right direction.

  This is the right choice, Heeley.

  I have to just keep telling myself that.

  TORQUE

  Moping about in my room isn’t going to get shit done. I know that, but I needed some time to get my head straight. I told Heeley about Zoey, about my dad, about my son, and she left anyway. I honestly thought me showing I was committed to someone would prove to her I could do this, but it had the exact opposite effect. I guess it came down to the fact I hadn’t told her about them, the fact I kept it from her, and it was a real blow.

  I’m a fucking idiot.

  That mixed with the drama of today, no wonder she’s walked.

  All things considered, though, it’s for the best. If she can’t handle it when shits at its worst, then maybe I was wrong, and she isn’t Old Lady material after all. The thought makes me feel all kinds of wrong as I look to the broken lamp on my floor, the one I picked up and threw immediately after Heeley walked out of my door. I should clean it up, but honestly, I can’t be bothered right now.

  I’ve been hauled up in my room for the last half hour running through our conversation in my brain, playing it over and over again, trying to figure out if I should have said something different. Told my story in a particular way where we’d still be together. I’m torturing myself with the pictures of her leaving playing over and over. But I’ve had enough. I need to be the fucking President of the Chicago Defiance MC right now. My club needs me.

  So I straighten my shoulders, pull on a shirt, and head out into the clubhouse. The commotion has died down somewhat, and when I look over, I notice Heeley’s first-aid kit is gone. I walk across the room and grab my cut and throw it over my shoulders making me feel more like a man and less like the pussy-whipped fucker I feel like on the inside.

  Looking around the club, I see Surge is no longer on the pool table. I’ll have to find out where he is, and how he’s recovering as I head straight for Doctor Kline. She’s sitting next to Chains, Lift, and Ace. They glance up at me and all tip their chins up in a greeting.

  “Pres,” Chains announces as I take a seat on a stool.

  “How’s everyone looking, Kline?” I ask, and she smiles.

  “All good, Pres. Everyone should make a full recovery. Surge will take a little longer. He’s in his room sleeping off the twilight anesthetic I administered him. His shoulder will be sore for a while. He’ll need to keep it in a sling for a good few weeks, but I’ll keep coming in to check on him. You know you can’t keep me away from here. Plus, I’ll need to check up on this dickhead to make sure he’s cleaning his wound.” She tilts her head to Chains, and he grunts while rolling his eyes.

  “Whatever, I’m fine. Foxy healed me good.”

  The mention of Heeley sends my muscles taut making Kline glance to me and raise h
er brow. “Yes, Heeley will be well suited to my program. I’m excited to have her onboard with me.”

  I scrunch up my face. “I’m sorry, what?”

  She swallows a lump in her throat sensing my tension and sits a little taller. “I’m taking Heeley under my wing at the hospital. Going to show her the ropes. Get her a foot in the door before med school. Help her gain best practices…” she pauses. “She has talent, Torque, and a thirst for knowledge. Don’t hold her back.”

  While normally having someone tell me what to do would piss me off, having Kline step up and take on Heeley’s best interests like this actually makes me happy. She can step out of that damn froyo store she hates and work more on her goal of being a doctor full-time. This is perfect, and I can have someone I trust watching her full-time.

  This is a good thing.

  “Thanks, Kline… I appreciate you doing this for her.”

  She raises her brow and plasters on a giant smile. “What? No… you should have talked to me about this before interfering with my woman, blah blah, thump my chest, throw a chair, break a pool cue… type reaction?”

  Chains, Lift, and Ace all chuckle nodding like they were expecting that reaction too, and I shrug.

  “Heeley’s not my woman. Not anymore…”

  All their faces drop like they’re shocked. Kline’s face takes on a sad look as she reaches out soothingly grabbing for my hand.

  “But I still want you to look after her and treat her as if she were. Okay?”

  She nods and gives me a brief smile before patting my arm and sighing. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out. I thought she was in her element here today. She was coping so well. It takes a certain kind of doctor to work for a club, and I see that in her. Because I see me in her. It might not be too late, Torque.”

  “I can’t hear that right now, Kline. I need to focus solely on the Andretti situation and the shitstorm that happened today. The fact our guns are now fuckin’ AWOL, and we still owe a shipment to Linn is playing heavily on my mind right now. We’re all injured in one way or another, and we need time to heal. I have no idea if something bigger is coming, or if that was their be-all and end-all. All I know is we’re losing this fight right now.”

  Ace glances at me and shakes his head. “Not all is lost, though, Pres.” He pulls out his cell.

  Moving to look at his cell, the red dot is still flashing and active. Raising my brow, I nod. “So the tracking device is still active?”

  He nods. “Yes. Very much so.”

  Standing, I grab his collar lifting him with me, and I glance across the room to Sensei. Ruby’s sitting on his lap, but he quickly removes her and stands to walk over to us as I look down to Chains and Lift.

  “Can you guys handle church?”

  They both nod.

  “Those with patches… in the Chapel, now!” I call out loudly, and Trax lifts his head from between Cindi’s boobs to look at me, and with a nod, he shifts to the side leaving her behind and walks toward the Chapel, along with Scratch and Vibe, who still looks like shit after the beating the Andrettis gave him when he was driving the truck. How he managed to get back in that truck and come to us, I will never know. The guy’s a damn machine.

  Ace, Lift, Chains, and I all head for the Chapel, and I can’t help but feel deflated as I watch my men, some hobbling, some with bandages—we’re a fucking mess.

  This shit can’t happen again.

  This won’t happen again.

  Enzo got us good, and I can imagine that fucker wasn’t even in one of those Romeos. Bastard wouldn’t have wanted to get his hands dirty. The filthy fucker. It feels weird walking into the Chapel without Surge. We all know he’s recovering and will take a little longer than the rest of us, but he’s a stable influence, and his indirect leadership will be missed. He needs time right now, but I want him back as soon as he can by my side.

  Sitting down in my chair—Trax to my left, Chains to my right—I bang my gavel as everyone carefully sits, the pain is etched on their faces. Shaking my head, I hate the way my table looks right now. A bunch of injured bikers is not how I wanted this shit to play out.

  Silence descends on the room as I click my tongue to the roof of my mouth and then sigh. “What a fuckin’ shitshow of epic proportions.” I take a deep breath and sink back into my chair looking at my brothers, who all have the same defeated look on their faces. Well, I for one, know when my ass has been handed to me. Honestly, I didn’t think we were going to make it out of there alive. So for all of us to come back with only injuries, well shit, we have to at least be grateful for that.

  “What do we know so far? Linn wants guns… in a fuckin’ week. The Andrettis stole our load, and we need to get it back. At this point, I don’t really give a fuck whether we take out his whole fuckin’ Mafia family to do so. I’m feeling trigger happy right now.” The boy’s chuckle and nod along with me. “Ace, what have you got for me?” I look past the table to his desk station at the end of the Chapel as he frantically types away on his keyboard.

  “Okay, so I have managed to triangulate the position of the guns’ tracking beacon. It hasn’t moved since it stopped after they were taken.”

  Nodding, I stand up from my chair and walk to his computer looking over his shoulder, and Trax follows looking over mine.

  “So the beacon’s stopped somewhere in The Heart of Italy?”

  Ace shakes his head pointing to the red light on his screen. “No. That’s the weird thing. It’s near Whiskey Row, by the flea markets, near the train tracks by the looks of this.”

  Trax and I look at each other. “What the fuck is our gun shipment sitting stagnant there for? That’s no one’s territory over there? What the fuck is Enzo playing at?” Trax asks, and I shake my head wondering the exact same thing.

  “Ace, what’s happening around the flea market? Any unusual activity in the past few weeks? Months?” I ask, and he types away furiously on his keyboard.

  Then something pops up on the screen. A property lease agreement comes up for the flea market, and a few of the other surrounding businesses, including the rail yard behind the flea market. Trax lets out a loud grunt as I run my hands through my hair and let out a long breath.

  “Fuck! Andrettis bought Whiskey Row, too? What the hell is going on?” I murmur.

  Trax grabs an Ironman bobblehead from Ace’s desk and hurtles it at the wall. It smashes into two pieces which makes Ace snap his head to Trax and glare at him.

  “That was number three of a one hundred limited edition collectible, asshole!”

  “Oh, fuck off. You’re such a nerd sometimes, Ace. Don’t you see we have bigger problems than your man-crush on Robert Downy—”

  “It’s not a crush on the actor. It’s an appreciation for the character Iron Man, and you would do well to—”

  “Enough,” I call out, having heard too much of this bullshit bickering between them in the past. “What the fuck, guys.”

  “I’m deadly serious,” Trax announces crossing his arms over his chest as Ace shakes his head.

  “Asshole,” Ace murmurs under his breath as he continues to type on his computer. “Anyway, from what I can see, if it is Enzo buying all this shit up in town, he’s doing it under one conglomerate. I just can’t gain access to it. It’s being blocked at every angle. They’re good. I didn’t think the Andrettis had a decent tech guy to cover their tracks. But whoever it is… man, he’s sealing their records like a pro.”

  “So if Enzo’s keeping the guns for himself and not selling them off, then what? What’s he using them for? Is he just storing them? What the hell is his end game? Surely, he’s gonna sell them off, right?”

  Trax nods. “Definitely. He stole them from us to fuck up our deal with Linn. In turn, that will fuck up our alliance with the Triad. Then Enzo will sell off our guns and make a profit. It’s a win-win for him. And we lose in every aspect.”

  Running my hand over the back of my neck, I clench my jaw, shifting over options in my head. We could go ge
t our guns back, but we’re all injured and not at full capacity, and the guns will be heavily guarded. It’s a huge risk. Knowing we know where the guns are, we could all be walking into a trap if they have found the tracker.

  Or we sit, wait, and see what happens. It’s a safer option, for now. It’s not one I would usually go for, but there’s not a lot of choice right now. The hardcore biker in me wants to go and fight for what’s ours, mess shit up, get even, but when you’re down, you have to think smarter.

  And right now—we’re down.

  I got to think smart.

  Not with anger or vengeance.

  Trax is gonna hate this.

  Taking a long, deep solid breath, I stand up taller and look around the room at my brothers. “Right, here’s the play… we wait.”

  Trax raises his brow and lets out a grunt of disapproval like I knew he would.

  “We watch the tracker. See what happens. Take the time to recover. Get ourselves back into action before we start the fight to take our city back.”

  “This is bull-fucking-shit—”

  “This is not up for discussion, Trax,” I interrupt.

  His jaw clenches, but he says nothing more. All the man wants is blood. His need to fight for a cause is all well and good, but you have to choose your battles, and right now we need to bide our time. We need to take a pass. We need a breather. We have to gather ourselves before we go bursting back into the bowels of hell. Because if we went screaming into hell right now, we would surely burn alive.

  “Pres is right… as much as we do not want to admit it, we have been placed at a disadvantage. We need to regain our strength, our composure, and refocus our attempts on our main goals before we turn our hatred for the Andrettis into a full-blown war we cannot win. And at this rate… will not win. We need to play smarter. Not with our fists and fury, but think, use our brains. Our actions can be of greater value when thought is put behind them, rather than our unfathomable rage,” Sensei offers, and I nod. He’s always so calculated with his words, and I know they’re directed more toward my brother than me, but I’m the one to step forward and acknowledge them.