Naked Dirty Love

by Selene Chardou

  I reached the bar in the clubhouse, which was packed but Chantal and her friend, Marian—ironically, a White Knights club member—helped Cell and a prospect by the name of Patrick “Paddy” O’Bannan, with the drink orders. Chantal waved me over to her side of the bar.

  “Another vodka and pineapple?” she shouted.

  “Actually, no. Is there anything stronger you’d recommend?” I looked around sheepishly but no one was paying any attention to me.

  Marian walked up next to her. “How hard are you lookin’ for?” she asked me with pale sky blue eyes. “Are you talkin’ about two hundred proof booze or something different?”

  I pulled nervously at the mid-thigh hem of my black dress. “Something a bit different.”

  “Chantal, I can handle this.” Marian walked closer to me as she pulled out a pale green alcohol and what looked like a small, wide-rimmed champagne glass. “I know it’s weird with me bein’ here but…the Originals don’t mind me comin’ by. I’m friends with Chantal, not tryin’ to fish for information.”

  “I didn’t say anything,” I replied, watching her pour a clear liquid over a sugar cube. “I mean, it’s not like I can talk about anyone. I abandoned my own club for a man.”

  The young, platinum blonde placed my drink in front of me. “I still might do that but…I guess it depends on the guy. I mean, yes, family is important and we, as biker brats, know that more than most civvies out there. They don’t quite understand that falling for someone who isn’t in our club isn’t the same as falling for a guy on the wrong side of the tracks. It could mean our parents disowning us but it goes past ‘I’m never talking to you again!’”

  I sipped from the bitter liquid she set down in front of me. The slightly sweet aftertaste didn’t make it any better. “Is this a drink that is better to just be downed like a shot?”

  She leaned against the bar. “Well, it depends. Absinthe wasn’t downed like a shot in its heyday. Wormwood was considered an aphrodisiac…something to calm a person down. Very much like smoking opium though that was a bit more dangerous due to its high percentage of users becoming addicted.”

  I raised my glass high in salute to Marian’s great drink-making skills and swallowed the awful tasting liquor in one shot. “So, you were talking about family and leaving the club for a boy?”

  “Yeah, I mean, it’s crossed my mind.” Chantal smacked her ass as she passed her. “Ouch! What the hell was that for?”

  “We’ve got more drunk bikers than we can handle and you two wanna go all Oprah on my ass? Take a fuckin’ break and come back prepared to work!” she exclaimed before grabbing another case of beer.

  Marian shook a Marlboro out of a pack and left the bar area with me. We ended up on a picnic bench not far from the spot Miranda had been brutally murdered.

  She lit up, inhaled deeply, and exhaled slowly. “Like I was sayin’, if the guy is worth it then why not? But…to give up your family for someone you’re not even sure you’re gonna be with in a year? That kind of situation is definitely a no-go. And civvies wonder why we don’t date them…at least not seriously or for keeps. We’re the ones who lose everything—not them.”

  “Are you seriously thinking of leaving the Knights?” I searched through my handbag and found my pack of cigarettes.

  “Yeah, but it’s all fucked up…I mean…I’m a full fledged member. Who knew? I mean, Nel—my uncle—the biggest fuckin’ anti-Semite, racist, and woman-hater has opened the charter to women. Choice women, of course…Jake and I work really well together so he made me a full-fledged member. I had to get the WK tattoo and everything,” she explained.

  “How do you know this guy you’re considering leavin’ the club for is worth it?” I questioned as I lit a cigarette, my head doing a slow spin from the Absinthe and the vodka on a collision course that was bound to not end well.

  “Well, to be honest, any guy who makes you consider leaving your club has to be pretty fuckin’ special from the start. If you think he’s worth it then…I would suggest he have a club of his own. People aren’t islands. We need to be social and any man who promises to be your everything is full of shit.” Marian dragged on her cigarette, clearly thinking. “I never had that issue. I mean, Trey never promised to be everything to me. My best friend is also a Saints’ old lady. I thought I would be okay, I mean my decision wasn’t affecting anyone but me. Now, I’m not so sure of anything anymore and I really do believe if I was a better person, I would have given my decision more thought than I did. As it turned out, my actions had a butterfly effect on so many people and I didn’t realize it until it was too late.”

  Maria shrugged her shoulders. “Did it ever occur to you that no matter what decision you made, the same result would have happened? Why are you second-guessing something you had no control over? Can you prove anything your father set into motion was directly caused by your relationship with Trey?”

  “No, I mean, I have my theories but nothing I can prove or disprove. The situation isn’t black and white if that’s what you mean.”

  “Then stop fucking around and commit already,” she replied in a voice laced with frustration.

  I hated to admit someone as young as Marian was absolutely correct because she made perfect sense. What had I been fighting this whole entire time with Trey? He wasn’t responsible for my contentious relationship with my father; that would have happened regardless who I’d decided to make my life partner.

  Perhaps it’d always been there as far as my father was concerned. Maybe what I’d done pushed him off the deep end. Or the loss of Trey from the club might have done that and, ironically, I had nothing at all to do with it.

  All I knew for certain was my mind could run itself ragged, playing these games and trying to figure out my life. At the end of the day, the only people I could count on were surrounding me right now, and Trey. They’d taken me in and accepted me as one of their own, given me refuge, and I would only have them to rely on from here on out.

  I smiled wryly as I stood. “Thanks, sweetie.”

  “Where are you going?” she called out as I walked away.

  “The place I’ve always belonged,” I replied with a wink. “Right beside my man.”

  Epilogue

  Trey

  Trey knew exactly what he was going to do from the moment he woke up on Wednesday, the day of Miranda’s funeral.

  He’d planned everything down to a science, including permission granted from Kink himself. The man was his brother first and a respected member of their club. He would have never dreamed of acting in a manner that disrespected someone he held in such high esteem, and who had earned his place in the club.

  Although part of his reason for planning this grand gesture was practicality, in matters such as his relationship with people, his heart had a tendency to overrule his mind.

  It was an unfortunate tendency for him since he’d spent the vast majority of his life thinking practically until puberty hit.

  Not that the change was completely horrible since there were definite pluses to thinking any issue through using both logical thoughts along with emotions. He preferred it that way. Although the day might seem completely inappropriate to some of the people present, he thought it would be one of the best days to celebrate an occasion surrounded by love. It could be an event that would bring them closer together as a club—and a family—as opposed to tearing them further apart.

  Trey wasn’t a fool; he knew Kyra suffered with the loss of Miranda just as much as the rest of the club did. They hadn’t been best friends but they were still close. No one would ever get over her death, regardless how much time passed, and what else happened. She would forever be known as casualty from a war that could have been prevented had the Saints never gotten into business with Aztecas Infierno in the first place. It didn’t matter whether or not Emilio had been denied bail and remanded in custody pending his trial by the Federal government.

  Fernando, his brother, had been granted an expensive bail once the
Feds decided they didn’t have enough on him to keep him inside.

  As for Carlito, he was still free and somewhere out there, accompanied by his stubborn fiancée and their child. There was a bounty on his head but he would stay low and play it safe. The chances of Lacey ever coming back to the club were slim and no one was holding out any hope.

  After all the unforeseen tragedy and horrific events, everyone could use some good news. It would be the only way for all who were involved to realize that, though this was a sad occasion, there was still goodness to be had in the world.

  Mid-afternoon, after the funeral, and during the celebration of Miranda’s life with music and too much booze, Trey decided the moment was perfect. The huge crowd, made up of local powerful businessmen, police officers, and club brothers—both local and from out of town—should all be privy to his announcement.

  He immediately located Kyra in the crowd. She spoke to Marian and their conversation seemed intense. Kyra’s face scrunched up mid-way through and she seemed confused, then a determined look etched its way on her gorgeous face. He wanted to approach her but, instead, she stood and strolled over to him.

  Even if the occasion wasn’t one that usually brought any sexual feelings to mind, she looked hot in her sexy black dress and high heels.

  Her golden highlighted, fiery hair flowed around her shoulders in wild, loopy waves, accentuating her pale rose and alabaster complexion. Her sky blue eyes shined with brilliance that could not be adequately described, complimenting her small Welsh features. Her mouth appeared to be an overripe rosebud covered in nude lip-gloss. In other words, she was everything he’d always sought in a woman and too chicken shit to take his chance until it was almost too late.

  Their love burned bright and hot, leaving a trail of fire and dust in its wake; without compromise or apology. It scorched everything in its path that tried to intervene and put an end to the emotions they felt for each other. It was the kind of love that would last a lifetime and he wouldn’t let her go ever. She was his woman and he wanted it branded on her like a tattoo. He desired to spend the rest of his life with her and there was no better moment than the present to tell her how he felt.

  “Hey, lover,” she greeted before wrapping her arms around his neck. “I know the timing isn’t good and I’m sorry about that because a funeral just doesn’t seem the time to tell you how much I love and adore you. I want us to be together until the end of time and that can’t happen until you put a ring on my finger. Do you want me as much as I want you?”

  Trey’s hazel-green eyes shined with unshed tears. “Are you seriously asking me that after everything we’ve been through together? If that was you…and this was your funeral, I would feel like the worst man on earth for not claimin’ you before all this shit went down.”

  “We both know it isn’t over, Trey. My dad is locked up and Aztecas Infierno could still strike again. Who’s to say they won’t? I can’t take that kind of chance.” She dropped her arms and held on to his hands. “I told my father when he asked me to make the choice between him and the family I grew up with or you and your family, I choose you. It’s the same now as it was then. I hope to God you don’t question my loyalty because I’ve never questioned the love you have for me. I know it—you know it—we’re too old to be playing high school games. What’s it gonna be?”

  “I know what it’s gonna be, Kyra Llewellyn Hughes.” Trey dropped down to one knee. “Will you do me the honor of becomin’ my old lady? To treasure, love, and protect for the rest of your life? To be with me in the good times and the bad, ’cause we both know they’re gonna be plenty of those? Until death tears us apart, and even then…the Grim Reaper might be able to sever our physical connection but no one—God, the Devil, not even Jesus Christ himself—could make me stop lovin’ you in my heart.”

  Kyra looked around, the music had come to an abrupt halt. Brothers from all the Saints chapters looked on, arms around their old ladies or club whores. Everyone they cared about was present including Cillian, Gisela, their twins, Chantal, Marian, Cricket, Cell, Kink, Bookie, Quinn, Hardy, Ronan, Naomi, Bronaugh, and Dizzy. They all gathered around and looked at the happy couple.

  The club needed this to happen on today of all days.

  Trey needed this because Kyra provided stability, love, and peace that had been ever elusive for him until now.

  Most of all, Kyra needed this to seal her role in the club, cement her new family and instinctively know she’d never be alone.

  Born a Bastard, chosen to be a Saint, this was the place for them both. Together, they’d made the most painful transition and were stronger because of it.

  He was ready to make the commitment that he would live and die a Saint, too, but she had to ultimately decide her own fate. As much as he wanted to make the decision for her, he couldn’t.

  Trey looked into her eyes as he pulled out a small black velvet box and displayed her ring. A blue, square-cut diamond with a platinum band embedded with rubies and white diamonds. It was beautiful, and represented everything perfect about her.

  She nodded her head as tears ran down her face. “Yes, Trey Lennon, I will be your wife…and your old lady.”

  They embraced as the whole club cheered and raised their booze high over their heads. The sound of motorcycles revving their engines lit up the late afternoon as he slid the ring on her finger. Shortly afterward, he wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her passionately as her hands dug into his strong shoulders.

  They separated reluctantly as Gisela walked over, carrying a black leather cut, the words, “Lucifer’s Saints” at the top with their insignia in the middle and below, “Hacker’s Property” above “Birch Tree Original.” The tears continued to flow down her eyes as she grabbed her cut before embracing her best friend.

  “Welcome home, honey. You’re one of us now,” Gisela said with conviction. Trey smiled as he walked over and helped her slip her cut over her dress. It fit her like a glove; it should have, since it was made for her and always meant for her, even if he hadn’t known it at the time.

  He kissed her forehead before looking into her gorgeous bright blue eyes. “Baby, you won’t ever feel alone again. This may be your homecoming and an official welcoming you into the club, but I’ve come home, too. Now I know where that is, nothing will ever be the same again. I’d die for the club but I would also die for you. Nothin’ and no one will ever keep us apart. You can bet on it.”

  They embraced again as several kegs of beer were rolled out of the clubhouse by several new prospects, drinks poured into cups, and the music started blasting again.

  Trey and Kyra walked hand-in-hand to the dance floor. He pulled her closer as they began to sway to “House of the Rising Sun.” The song was melancholy but it represented life—their way of life. They lived and died together, bound by brotherhood and the love they had for one another.

  Happiness was brief and the love of a good woman, rare. However they took what they could and continued to live day to day. In their business, there weren’t any long term plans or goals but to see another day and to keep fighting against the factions that wanted to tear them apart.

  Trey knew he not only had a soldier with Kyra by his side in this intense battle; he also acquired the woman of his dreams.

  A man couldn’t possibly ask for more than that.

  Kyra

  One Month Later

  I walked through security at Lovelock Correctional Center, flanked by four prison guards, three suited FBI agents, and Eve Kerrigan, the lead investigator. After several attempts made on my father’s life despite the high security, the Feds decided to transfer him elsewhere. He would temporarily be moved to Florence ADX, known to most Americans as Supermax Prison, near Florence, Colorado.

  This would be the last time I would see him before his trial started later on that year unless he was willing to make a deal with the Feds. As of yet, Tom “Jonesy” Hughes had proven to be a stubborn as me; I was my father’s daughter after all.
<
br />   “There’s absolutely nothing else that can be done? Why can’t he be moved to another facility here in Nevada or even northern California? Victorville perhaps?” I asked Eve as we strode together.

  She shook her head. “It’s too dangerous and you have to know Aztecas Infierno have people everywhere. We’ve looked into every prison in Nevada, California, Oregon, Arizona, and Utah. It’s a no-go. If we put your father in any of those prisons, he’ll be dead within a week,” Eve explained pragmatically. “To be honest, it would just be easier if he turned and gave up what he knows about AI. They think he’s a rat anyway so he’s not protecting anyone; just making this case so much harder on us and himself.”

  “My dad isn’t like that. Hell, he’ll be the Bastards’ Prez till the end and we don’t rat,” I replied in a quiet voice.

  “You don’t rat or the Bastards don’t rat? Last time I checked, you were a fully protected member of the Saints. Watch your mouth around here. The walls have eyes and ears,” Eve said before she walked ahead of me to speak privately with Warden Daniel Matthews of Lovelock, who awaited her.

  I stood there, my handbag on my shoulder and checked the messages on my smart phone.

  This wasn’t just another visit and my dad wasn’t an ordinary prisoner. Prison officials and FBI agents surrounded me; I would hardly be able to embrace my dad, let alone slip anything to him. It wasn’t only a bad situation for me but everyone involved.

  I looked down at my left hand and smiled as the blue diamond sparkled on my left ring finger. The ring represented so much more than my engagement to Trey, it also signified my change in club status. I wasn’t visiting my father as a Bastard biker brat; instead I was a woman affiliated with the Lucifer’s Saints visiting her dad who happened to be the President of a rival club.