Biker Chicks: An Anthology of Hot MC Romance

by AJ Downey

  “Please don’t make me run in these.” She catches up to me, just as I arrive to the counter. “Look, you’ve been through a lot in the last two weeks. I think you should step back and think for a second.”

  I turn in my step, my Chuck Taylors squeaking under the soles of my feet. “I don’t want to fucking think, Lisa! I don’t want to think any more about my drop-kick ex-boyfriend, who’s been cheating on me for months, or the fact that when I go home for Thanksgiving this weekend, my dad won’t be there! And what fucks with me even more, is that the reason he is dead is because of me! So shut the fuck up and let me buy the damn bike.” I storm off to the now shocked cashier, I tell him what bike I want, and swipe my MasterCard.

  Lisa’s hands touch my shoulder lightly. “I’m sorry, Meagan. I never meant to upset you. I’m just worried.”

  I turn in my steps, bringing my soft brown cognac colored eyes to hers. “It’s fine, Lisa. Just please leave it. I can’t think about Sem or my dad anymore.”

  She nods her head in agreement. Thank God for that, I don’t want to relive the past two weeks. After walking in on my boyfriend fucking the shit out of a club whore, I left. That may be okay for some Old Ladies but not me. No. After I left, he went bat-shit crazy and burnt our home down where my father laid. He hated my father, because he wasn’t a fan of our relationship at all. The police say that he was looking for me that day, but because I was working at the bar he couldn’t get his hands on me. He’s currently in custody and looking at major time. It’s been the worst two weeks of my life. So now, I want to ride. I want to know what it feels like to be in control of the bike, my life—everything.

  “So when are you going back to Massa?” Lisa asks as we pull into the driveway of my tiny two-bedroom cottage.

  “This weekend. I have to pick up some items for my mom and then I’ll be leaving. What are your plans for Thanksgiving?”

  “I don’t know.” Lisa looked out toward the light blue sky.

  “You wanna come with? I’m sure my mom would love to see you.”

  “I don’t want to intrude,” Lisa adds softly.

  “Don’t be silly! You can come. It’ll be great. Take my mind off things. I know my mom and dad were divorced a long time ago, but my mom really loved him, you know?” I reply, taking the keys out of the ignition and pushing the driver’s side door open.

  Lisa pushes open her door, shuts it and flicks her brown hair over her shoulder. “It’s just you know, my family are nonexistent over Thanksgiving. Mom’s in Aspen and Dad’s in the Bahama’s. It’s just Billy Bob and me.” Billy Bob is Lisa’s pug. He’s cute but sort of scares me.

  Once I reach the porch, I push my key into the lock and open the door wide. My house is simple. It’s a two-bedroom cottage all very classical and plain. I love it though because it’s mine. My dad was big in investing money and putting it in all the right places. He never gave me a single handout as a child. I had to do chores around the house if I so much as wanted a new top. Once I hit eighteen, he began teaching me the ins and outs of real estate. And now, because of him, I own my little cottage. It’s only two bedrooms, but I’m not planning on having kids anytime soon, if ever. I hang my keys on the wooden key holder and continue to walk into the kitchen to pour an orange juice.

  “So,” Lisa starts, “when are we leaving?”

  “Tomorrow morning and you can follow me there.”

  “What? Why? My car is more luxurious!”

  “I know, but I’m riding my new bike,” I state proudly.

  “It’s ready?” she asks shocked.

  “He’s dropping it off this afternoon.” I nod, rinsing my glass in the sink and placing it into the dishwasher.

  “Have you been back to the house since it happened?” Lisa asks, standing from her seat to pour herself a drink.

  I shake my head. “I don’t know. It’s hard enough that my mom has to deal with driving past the house every day.”

  Lisa nods her head, wrapping her tiny arms around me. “I love you, you know that?”

  “I know. I can’t wait to get out of here and away from the Eighty-Sixer’s MC.”

  A knock on the door pulls me out of the conversation with Lisa. “Ohhh…” I say excitedly. “That will be my angel,” I reply, power-walking to the front door.

  “You already named it?” Lisa mocks from behind me. I turn around and shoot her an evil glare, she starts giggling, throwing her hands up in surrender. “Hey, I didn’t say anything,” she says chuckling to herself and following close behind.

  I swing open my door to a young man wearing coveralls. “Hi! Is my bike here?” I ask and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. I thought it’d be obvious that the bike was for a woman.

  “Yeah…uhh… here you go. Just sign here.” He hands me a clipboard with a piece of paper attached.

  Scribbling down my signature, I push past him, heading to the truck. There’s already a young fella there pushing the platform down, lowering it to the ground.

  Man, she’s so beautiful, I can’t wait to ride her.

  “Here you go, ma’am,” he says, handing me the keys.

  “Thank you, thank you!” I squeeze him into me.

  This day just got better.

  Chapter 2

  “Follow me!” I yell out to Lisa, placing my new shiny black helmet on my head. “I remember where to go, Mom!” I laugh.

  She jumps into her little Mercedes Benz, waiting for me to leave. I run my hand over the gloss white velvety smooth feeling paint under my hands. No one can wipe the smile off my face, this is exactly what I need. Clapping my hands together, letting out a tiny squeal, I swing my leg over the squishy seat that molds perfectly around my ass. A surge of excitement rushes through me. Smiling, I kick-start her to life making the sweet rumble of the heavy engine vibrate underneath me.

  Oh God, so sweet.

  Turning the handlebars, I speed out of my driveway leaving Lisa way behind. I laugh to myself because I can almost hear her spewing profanities at me over the rumble of my bike. The feeling is electric. The wind whipping through my long dark hair, the waves of oxygen swimming up my nose and setting off little H20 buzzing stars through my brain waves. I glide across the pavement of the road, smiling a genuinely happy smile for the first time in two weeks.

  Pulling up to my mom’s palace, the high iron gates stop me in my tracks. I kick off the stand, getting off the bike and walking up to the camera, pushing the voice button.

  “Mom? Mom, it’s me, open up.”

  “Meagan! What in the ever-loving God are you driving?”

  “Can we have this discussion after you beep me in? Lisa is coming too.”

  She doesn’t reply, the only indication I get that she’s okay with this is the sliding of the large iron gates.

  “Okay then…” I mumble under my breath, swinging my leg back over my bike and riding in toward the one thousand questions I know are awaiting me.

  “Mom, it’s fine. I’m fine,” I reply, taking a handful of grapes and popping one in my mouth.

  “Honey, your father’s funeral was only last week. I’m sure you’re not fine.”

  “Can we not talk about it?”

  She pats my knee, the gliding of the porch swing pushing me into the air.

  “Okay, sweetie. The chief firefighter who’s working on the case of your father’s house is coming over at some point today, though.”

  “Why?” I ask, placing the plate of grapes, cheese, and crackers on the spot next to me where my mom sat.

  “Because there are some issues.”

  My voice cracks. “What sort of issues are we talking here?” I ask, rubbing my sweaty hands over my jeans.

  “Look, I don’t want you to worry.”

  “Mom, spit it out. Please.”

  “Okay, sweetie. The chief, Jason Law, will be coming over. He has some suspicions about the fire.”

  “What? What sort of suspicions?” I reply, my heart rate picking up again. “Sem is in prison. We know it was suspic
ious, Mom.”

  She shakes her head, clutching the little angel pendant in her hand that sits around her neck on a lace of gold. Memories of my father and I choosing that for her birthday when I was nine, come flooding into my brain like a movie of memories.

  “He thinks…he thinks he may have been hurt before the fire.”

  “Did he see Dad before he was taken to the coroner?”

  “Yes, honey. He was the first on the scene, and your father wasn’t referred to the coroner. We don’t know why. I don’t want to get into the nitty-gritty details of it all, but he saw enough evidence that made him suspicious that there was more to it.”

  “This doesn’t make sense,” I say, standing from the swing, it hitting the back of my knees. “Why would they not refer him to the coroner?”

  I’m beginning to pace, walking up and down the brick patio, rubbing my hand over my chest, the beating of my heart thumping into my palm like a pulse of nerves. Shaking my head and running my hand across my forehead. “I can’t believe this,” I say to my mom. “I need to talk to him. Call him.”

  “Meagan, don’t let your mind get carried away, sweetheart.”

  I stop in my tracks. “No, Mom! It’s bad enough that this has happened because of me, but it was reassuring to think he’d maybe passed while he was asleep. I can’t deal with this, I need to get to the bottom of it. Now. Call him, please,” I plead with her, hoping she’ll listen for once.

  There’s a knock on the door as I’m walking down the large stairs and into the expanse that is the foyer. I begin double-stepping, ready to bombard this man with one hundred questions.

  Grasping onto the doorknob, I swing it open to a large frame of a man standing with his back to me.

  It’s a hot back too, if I may add.

  He slowly turns, his wide shoulders stretching out his big black jacket that reads Massachusetts Fire Department. His hair is dark, sitting across the collar of his jacket and his eyes a piercing blue. I swallow down my assessments of him and get my mind back into gear.

  “Hi, I’m Meagan.” I place my hand out for him. His eyes drop to my lips before putting his hand out to mine, his skin hot, wrapping his fingers around my tiny hand.

  “I’m Jason,” he smiles a full tooth smile at me.

  Opening the door wider for him. “Please, come in.” Thank God I’m not a blusher or I’d be bright red right now. His heavy boots thump on the varnished wooden floor as I shut the doors behind him.

  “My mom should be out in a second. Can I get you something to drink?” I ask, leading the way into the living room. He takes a seat on the sofa.

  “Water would be great. Thank you,” he answers, his voice dark and smoky.

  “Sparkling or flat?” I yell out from the kitchen.

  “Flat, thank you.”

  I walk back into the living room, clutching the water, one in each hand. “Here you go.” I reach out and pass him his glass just as my mom walks into the living room in jeans and a light cardigan—cashmere no doubt.

  “Hi Jason, I see you have met my daughter.” She signals to me before taking a seat on the single sofa that sits at the head of the living room. Jason sits opposite me on the identical three-seater sofa to mine.

  “Yes,” he smiles, bringing his eyes to mine, “I have.” His eyes penetrate into me. I’m the first to break contact, shifting in my seat, showing my discomfort.

  “How can we assist you today, Mr. Law?” My mom asks, picking up her tea from the coffee table in front of her, blowing the steam off it and taking a sip.

  He clears his throat, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. “Please, call me Jason. And as I was saying on the phone earlier…” he looks uncomfortable to me.

  My mom’s hands wave and I see them out of the corner of my eye. “I have filled her in,” she responds, placing her tea back onto the coffee table. His body visibly relaxes, a polite smile pulling across his lips at my mother before bringing his attention back to the present.

  “As I was saying, the evidence I saw showed there was more to what happened.”

  “How do you figure that?” I ask, staring out into my mom’s garden that sits on the other side of the floor to ceiling glass doors behind Jason.

  “Well, without getting into too much painful and upsetting details; when we arrived on the scene, the fire hadn’t completely taken hold.”

  “So, he wasn’t dead when you got there?” I ask, bringing my eyes back to his.

  “No, he was. However, he was still very much there.”

  “Okay, so what did you see? Please, I need to know. And why wasn’t he referred to the coroner, Mom? Why didn’t you refer him to the coroner?”

  “I’m sorry, honey. I wasn’t in a good place to be thinking about those decisions.” My mother is a sweet woman, but she’s not a strong one. She and my dad were polar opposites, they balanced each other out.

  “Well, I can’t answer for the coroner. I guess it was ruled arson almost instantly, the gas containers were present at the doorstep.”

  “Right,” I answer absently.

  “He had bruising around his neck, the part that I could see anyway. I’m sorry, I’m trying to be as sensitive as I can, please let me know if there’s too much detail and I will stop.”

  “No,” both my mom and I say together. “Please, do carry on.”

  “We know Semington Parker is in custody, but I’d like to have this fully solved with the appropriate justice for your family.”

  “Thank you,” I say, bringing my eyes back to his.

  He squints. “No problem.”

  “Meagan?” My mom says from her throne. “Are you thinking of going back to the house?”

  “At first, I wasn’t. Now I feel like I need to, to see if I can find anything. I’m no detective, far from it. But, I think I want to see,” I say to my mother. She smiles, nodding her head.

  “You do that, honey.”

  Jason interrupts politely. “If you want to go, you’ll need to take either me or someone from my crew with you. It’s too dangerous otherwise.”

  “I understand,” I begin. “Would someone be available today?”

  “Yeah,” he smiles a genuine smile. “Me.”

  Chapter 3

  “You know,” I begin, walking toward his truck, the gravel crunching under my feet. “I half expected you to be here in a fire truck.”

  He smiles, showing his set of straight white teeth. “That could be arranged.” Beeping open his BMW truck, I slide into the passenger seat and click on my seat belt.

  Once we’re on the road, he looks at me sideways from his position. “What did you mean back there by ‘far from it’?” he asks, smirking at me.

  “I’m just a bartender, that’s what that meant,” I answer, watching the tall trees pass by out the window.

  “Just? I would say being a bartender isn’t ‘just’ material.”

  I laugh, shaking my head. “You don’t need to do this.”

  “Do what?” he asks, cocking his head.

  “Make small talk.” I smile at him, bringing my attention back to the front of the car and dreading the fact that I’m going to see the last sights my father saw before he died.

  When we pull into my dad’s house, the charcoal smudges covering the once wooden walls and roof are spread over it like an ombré of blackness. The pain in my chest deepens, my palms sweat. The truck comes to a halt as my breathing picks up. I blow out a breath of air, hoping that it’ll help my rising panic, only for it to intensify. A warm hand wraps around my hand, squeezing tightly, like a reassuring blanket of warmth. My breathing dissipates, and I bring my eyes to Jason, meeting his worried blue depths.

  “Thank you.” I smile at him.

  “No problem, are you sure you want to do this?”

  I nod my head. “Yes, I’m sure,” I answer, before realizing that our hands are still touching. I pull out of his grasp, his eyes faltering for a second. “I guess I should get this over with.” I pull open the door, getting o
ut and shutting it behind me. The house that once held so many precious memories for me is now a gloomy darkness that sucks out all of my positive energy and replaces it with negativity. I can’t spend too much time here, this much I know.

  Taking the first step toward the house, walking into my shadow of sadness.

  After Jason and I had looked through the house, the entire time being very difficult for me, we are now at a pizza shop. All the emotional sadness of what I just walked through taking a toll on my mood, but Jason insists we eat before he takes me home.

  “What’s your favorite pizza?” he asks, picking up the menu.

  “Any, I’m not fussy.” I don’t have the heart to tell him that I’m not a big pizza fan.

  He ordered Hawaiian and Pepperoni, which was fine by me. I don’t think I’d be able to stomach much food anyway. I take a sip on my cold water, hoping it’ll soothe my nerves as it does my thirst.

  “How are you feeling?” he asks, placing his arms on the back of his chair. The place looks like a diner, only they serve pizzas, not coffee and burgers.

  “Raw,” I answer honestly. “Today’s been a long day. On a positive note, I bought a Harley,” I stated under a scoff, glaring out the window.

  “You bought a Harley?” he asks with a smile.

  I nod my head. “Mm-hmm.”

  “I’m impressed,” he says, a smile spreading across his face, showing a younger side of him.

  Which reminds me… “How old are you?” I ask before I figure out that sounds rude and way off topic.

  “Thirty-four. You?” he asks with a grin. He’s flirtatious, I see it. But I think he’s stopping himself, for the most part, out of the sensitivity of the situation.

  “Twenty-nine,” I answer hoarsely.

  After our meal and more time spent getting to know each other, he pays the bill and drops me home. I’m so ready for bed. I know that Lisa will be here now, though. Deciding I’m not ready for her inquisition, I sneak upstairs, into my bed and snuggle down into the white cotton sheets letting sleep take hold.