by Tia Siren
Jason was there already, along with what looked like all of the Hammers. Hull parked and Rebecca parked next to him, both throwing the kickstands of their bikes down and climbing off them. Hull was wearing blue jeans and a black T-shirt, and Jason was decked out in full Hammer’s gear: chaps and a black leather vest with their sigil on the back.
“Let’s just go,” Rebecca said, keeping her voice low. Hull shook his head, turned to her, and kissed her.
“I love you,” he said.
“I love you too,” she replied, and then he turned and made his way into the center of the circle that was forming. Jason stood in the center, the circle made up of the club. Rebecca made her way to the front and stood next to Gloria.
“Rules?” Jason asked after Hull was standing in front of him.
“You tell me,” Hull replied.
“No weapons. Punches, kicks. Fight like men.”
“Do you know how a man fights?” Hull asked, and a soft titer rose in the crowd.
“Are you ready to get your ass kicked?” Jason asked, putting his fists up.
“Let’s go,” Hull said, and he stepped forward. The fight was on.
Hull landed the first hit, and then the second, both powerful punches to Jason’s body. Jason could scrap, but Hull had learned how to box while he was a Navy SEAL. Jason was worried about his face and left his body wide open. Even after only two hits, he would have a massive purple bruise on his ribcage the next day.
Still, Jason wasn’t a slouch. He had no finesse, but he was powerful, and he landed a skull-rattling punch to Hull’s jaw that sent the man backpedaling and kicking up dust from the gravel.
“Let’s go, bitch,” Jason said, and he stepped forward, swinging at Hull’s head again, but Hull ducked under the punch and brought his own fist up, slamming it into Jason’s jaw and sending the man sprawling. He tried to get up, but Hull was upon him, pinning him down and slamming his fists into his head, his neck, and his chest. It hadn’t been much of a fight.
When Hull was sure Jason was done, and he could tell just by looking at him—the man’s face was a sea of red and purple and blue, his eyes already blackened, blood pouring from a broken nose and a mouth now missing a few teeth—he got up. “I win,” Hull said, and about three-quarters of the crowd began to cheer.
Rebecca had been tense, worried, but now it all fell from her, and she smiled and began making her way toward Hull. He grinned when he saw her and opened his arms to her. He didn’t see Jason standing up behind him, rushing forward as he pulled something from his pocket. Others saw it, and they hurried to stop him, but they weren’t fast enough. Jason held a switchblade, and the blade flashed out from the handle with a glint of silver and an audible clack. And then the blade was buried in Hull’s back, just before the first of the bikers reached Jason and wrenched him away, throwing him to the ground.
“No!” Rebecca yelled out as Hull fell to the gravel. She dropped beside him, pulling his head up into her lap. She had no way of knowing at that point, but a doctor would later tell her that the blade had pierced both his kidney and his lung. It had been placed in the worst spot it could, and Hull had no hope.
He was looking up at her now with glassy eyes.
“He’s a fucking cheater,” Hull said, and he tried to smile but he couldn’t. Perhaps he knew there was nothing to smile about, that there was nothing anyone could do to keep him alive.
“You’re fine,” Rebecca said, hoping against hope. Not far away a couple of massive bikers were holding Jason down, kicking the shit out of him. She thought they might kill him, pissed off about his cowardice, and she found herself hoping they would.
“I love you,” Hull said, his voice shaky and sounding as if he were far away.
“I love you too. Be quiet. Someone will call an ambulance.
Hull opened his mouth as if to say something else, but he never did. His eyes darkened, his last breath came out in a ragged sigh, and then he was gone, his blood pooling around him and the woman he loved.
Rebecca cried, that night, the next, and for a hundred after it. The men did end up beating Jason to death, and then the Hammers disposed of both bodies themselves, to keep the police from being involved. Jason and Hull just became two men missing, never to be found. Weasel became the president of the club, and he visited with Rebecca, making sure she would stay on as club mechanic. She told him she would. She had nothing in her life other than the Hammers now. The club had taken everything from her, until it was the only thing left standing. She rode her bike, she fixed the club’s bikes, and motorcycles became her life once more. It was the only thing she could do to keep her mind off everything. As long as she lived, she would never be able to mend herself. But a motorcycle was loud enough to drown everything out, even a broken heart.
*****
THE END
Bad Boy Biker’s Bride
Five years was a long time to be away. It would have been longer if my mother hadn’t up and gotten sick. She was an old bat, crazy as they came, and to me, she always seemed invincible when I was younger. I guessed I had been wrong.
I’d hated her while I was growing up. We never saw eye to eye. She was devout and resolute in her beliefs. I was always the carefree spirit, ready to hit the road when the whim took me. She probably hated that about me, kept wanting me to settle down and start a family. She should have known that just wasn’t who I was.
When the taxi dropped me off in front of the old house, I wanted nothing more than to set the place on fire and leave, as I almost had when I was younger. Too many memories had been made in this house, and most of them I wished I could forget.
The house looked as it always had, rundown but taken care of. The paint was faded and cracking, and the windows were so grimy they couldn’t be seen through. The small white picket fence was still there, almost entirely knocked over now.
I wondered what my dad would have thought of it after all these years. I always thought of his grizzled face staring down at me from whatever cloud he was sitting on, judging as he always had. I had received messages from him the entire time I was away, but they stopped after he caught a bullet. I guessed if you lived as loud as he did, you’d end up in a grave sooner rather than later.
“Hey, Momma,” I shouted from the front door.
“Tara, is that you?” she replied from the den.
I clomped around the house in my old motorcycle boots till I found her.
“Yeah, it’s me, Momma. How you feelin’?” I asked.
“How the hell do you think I’m feeling? I can barely get up to take a piss. Get over here and give your momma a hug,” she said.
I had learned at an early age that you didn’t say no when your mother asked you to do something. I leaned over her and gave her a solid embrace.
“Can I get you anything?” I asked.
“You can get me the last twenty years of my life back; that would do it.” She laughed, only to start hacking and coughing.
I patted her back in a vain attempt to help her. I looked through her prescriptions, one of which was empty—looked like painkillers.
“How about you just get me a refill on that before my aches start acting up again? I was just going to watch TV anyway.”
“All right, Momma. I’ll be back.”
“I think your old bike is still in the garage, if you want to use that to get around. I haven’t had a car for a couple of years now.”
“I’m glad you never got rid of it,” I said.
“Some things you can’t get rid of,” she replied.
I gave her a kiss on the forehead and took the pill bottle, tucking it into my pocket.
I went back outside and circled around to the old garage. My dad’s old car was still sat there, waiting for someone to care. I eyed my old motorcycle, peeking out from behind the canvas sheet I’d thrown over it years ago.
My hand moved automatically, tugging the sheet away. She was a killer ride, and I wondered how I’d gone so long without her in my life. T
he day to day just didn’t have the same feel as it had when I was younger and more irresponsible.
I ran my hand along the gas tank, wiping away the layers of dirt she was covered in. She wasn’t the biggest bike, nor was she the fastest, but she was mine, and that was all that mattered.
I threw my leg over, and a cloud of dust met me as I settled into the seat. I jerked down on the starter, and just as she always had, she turned over on the first crank.
I hadn’t ridden in so many years; I started to get antsy. She wanted to be taken out to flex those old muscles. I walked my way out of the garage, carefully avoiding the old car.
I started feeling that sense of freedom I’d had all those years ago: the freedom I’d had when I snuck out late at night to meet up with my old boyfriend, the nights when I’d make a mistake and come home in handcuffs, even the nights when I wouldn’t come home at all—the memories were all flooding back.
I steered myself away from my old home and joined up with the road. There was a canyon road that had some of the finest sights in the area, and I felt it was the perfect time to see them; Momma could wait a few more minutes.
When I was free from the town I let loose, my hair whipping in the wind and the sun warming my face. I opened the bike up and leaned into the corners; I had all these roads memorized and could ride them blindfolded.
Then the familiar rumble of a motorcycle gang filled the canyon. I sense of dread befell me; if it was the person I thought it was, then I had no idea what I’d say to him. I pulled my cycle off the road and clicked her off.
From the bend in the road, a band of motorcycles filed out. I didn’t recognize any of them, which left me with a feeling of relief. But the guys still made eyes at me as they rode by.
I was used to it. I’d had a lot of guys fight over me in the past. But none had been as strong as Buck. I once saw him beat up three guys at the same time just for looking at me. He knew how to impress a woman.
There was a time when I would have done anything for that man, but he could never see me as his one and only. I’d always catch him with another girl, and he never understood why I thought it was such a big deal. If he wanted me to be his, then he needed to be mine.
Two of the bikers from the gang pulled off, and I knew what was coming.
“Hey there,” said the taller of the two who stopped.
“Howdy,” I replied.
“Who do you ride with?” he asked.
“I’m with Buck and his boys,” I replied.
The two of them looked at each other in a sort of horrified way.
“Pleasure meeting you,” they said as they turned and zoomed back to their motorcycles waiting nearby.
I laughed; Buck’s reputation was still just as serious now as it had been before. He had a bad temper and a lousy habit of letting everyone know.
Despite all his faults, I still wanted to see him. I somehow felt that he deserved to know I was back in town. Not a single member of his crew would come through without at least paying homage to the leader. I felt no different.
I slung myself back into the saddle and kicked the old girl back on. I tore down the road and toward the old bar that had raised me; it wasn’t very far from where I was.
The Whiplash Tavern was a sort of landmark in these parts. The sign outside was well past any state of repair. The front of the bar was full of motorcycles of all shapes, sizes, and colors. The signs in the windows hummed their neon tune as I eased my cycle into an empty place.
Before I could finish pulling in, I heard a loud crash echo from inside the bar, then what sounded like glass breaking, followed by the sound of a gunshot.
Then I saw Buck, sauntering out the front door with another man, who he held by his collar and belt.
“You take your shit and stay out of my town,” shouted Buck in his grizzly tone.
He threw the man to the ground as though he were a sack of flour.
“You’ll regret this,” said the man on the ground.
“I get told that a lot,” said Buck, “but I’m still waiting.”
The young pup picked himself up from the ground and sprinted to a nearby motorcycle. Another man, about his same size, ran out of the tavern and joined him. They looked like they were in a hurry.
Then Buck turned to me. It was the first time I’d seen him in five years, and it looked like he hadn’t aged a day. He was still the barrel-chested and grizzled man I’d known since I was a girl. He towered over nearly every other man I knew, and when he wasn’t the tallest, he was still usually the biggest. His cropped and disheveled beard was starting to show slight signs of gray, giving him a distinguished look, and his tattooed arms still looked just as strong as the first day I met him, maybe even a little bigger than before.
He clenched his jaw and let out a grunt before disappearing back inside. SO maybe he wasn’t excited to see me, and that made me a little nervous.
I entered quietly, but I recognized everyone, and they all recognized me. A loud cheer echoed throughout the small establishment, and I waved a meek hello.
“Thought that was your bike comin’ down the road,” Buck said as he walked back behind the bar.
“I’m amazed you can always tell,” I said.
“I damn near built that bike myself,” he replied. “I know my own work.”
He shoved a beer in my direction. I took it and sipped anxiously.
“What brought you back to town?” he asked.
I couldn’t bring myself to look him in the eye, so I just stared into my drink.
“My momma’s sick,” I said.
He stayed silent and washed a glass with his dishrag. He wasn’t one for words.
“I’ll be here a couple of months till she either gets better or dies,” I said, “and I don’t know which one would be better.”
“That old hag won’t die,” Buck said. “Paul knew how to pick his women, and he picked a good one.”
Paul was my dad’s name; he used to run the gang here. Buck had always been his second, and when Dad finally kicked the bucket, all his assets went straight to Buck: the bar, his bike, and, to some extent, me.
“Whatever happens, I just don’t want to be here too long. I got a new life to get back to.”
Buck slammed the glass he was cleaning on the counter so hard that it shattered.
“Why the hell you gotta go sayin’ stuff like that? You just got back, and you’re already fixin’ to leave.”
“I’m not fixin’ to leave nowhere yet. But my eye is always on the door,” I replied.
“I’ll never get what made you take off the first time.”
“The train of girls that was always walkin’ out of your bedroom would be a good place to look.”
“I quit all that, and you know it,” he said.
“I never saw any of that.”
“Well, maybe if you stuck around like you were supposed to, you would’ve seen it.”
I turned to look him in the eye. He still had that soulful glare; I could never tell if he was getting ready to break something or kiss me, but sometimes I was sure it was both.
“I’m here now, Buck.”
He started sweeping the shards of glass from the bar with his hand.
“That’s right, you are,” he said.
The men around the bar seemed entranced by our conversation, but as I looked around at them, they all did their best to return to their normal conversations.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.
He leaned over the bar, which cracked and groaned under his weight, and whispered in my ear.
“Now that you’re here, I’m going to make you remember why it was so hard to leave. You always get me hard when you walk into the bar in those tight jeans.”
I wanted to have him, but I knew if I did, I would regret it for the rest of my life. I needed to keep that part of my past closed. His boyish charm was the hardest to resist.
I leaned over and whispered a reply in his ear.
“I
can’t do it, Buck. I can’t go back to that life.”
He stood back up only to lean on the back bar. I made the mistake of letting my real feelings show in my eyes, and he knew it. I’d always had large, expressive eyes, which were both a blessing and a curse. Buck told me once that he could tell what was on my mind by what showed through my eyes. I didn’t want to believe it, but I knew it to be true.
“What the hell, Tara,” he said in frustration.
“I know what I want, and I know what I need,” I said. “You’re what I want, but not what I need.”
He snapped his fingers to a couple of guys in the back of the bar, and the two of them hopped right up.
“I’m goin’ for a ride, and this time I’m ridin’ solo. You’ll come around, but I can’t be here waitin’ for you till you do.”
He stomped his way out of the bar, and my eyes followed him. Buck climbed onto the largest bike outside, beautiful and black glossed. The bike was still covered in scratches and dings from road wear and tear, though. It roared to life, a deafening rumble that shook my glass, and he pulled away.
“You probably shouldn’t have made him angry,” said one of the guys behind the bar.
“He’ll go off and do something stupid like he always does. Except this time I hope it doesn’t get anyone killed in the process,” said the other biker.
“I’m leavin’ my number. If he does something stupid, you make sure to call me.” I polished off my beer and tossed some cash onto the counter.
I had a feeling things were about to get a lot worse.
2.
I wondered how long I would have to wait before getting a call. It was nearly one in the morning when the phone rang.
“Hello?” I said, fighting away sleep.
“Tara, you better get down here quick. It’s not good,” said one of the bikers from earlier.
“I’m on my way,” I replied.
I threw on my clothes from earlier in the day and hopped back on my bike. I walked a couple of blocks down the road so that I wouldn’t wake up my momma when I started the bike.
I was reminded again of when I used to have to sneak out of the house late at night for just this same reason. Buck was more than just a trouble maker; he was a trouble magnet. I couldn’t remember a day when he didn’t go off and do something stupid.