Below The Line

by Chelsea Camaron

At the time we were in Tennessee. It’s an annual trip we make so Rowdy can give his middle finger to the courthouse that locked him up for a ten-year sentence on a crime he did not commit. I would be the same way if it was me. So every year we all take the time to cruise through, let Rowdy have his moment and then we ride on back out. This time though, things changed for me.

  While we were there, not one but two emails came through – both concerning my past. Two distinctly separate emails directed to Collector but concerning me. More specifically, my history with Hadley. From one email to another we landed ourselves in a small town in Tennessee. One that just so happened to be the home of Vipers Creed Motorcycle Club.

  They wanted us gone in the quickest of possible ways.

  I couldn’t do it. Not without knowing for certain if the leads on Hadley were true. The guys all took my back and we even gave our marker to the Vipers in order to stay in town and really see the leads out.

  Only, we were too late. Hadley was long gone, if she had truly been there in the first place. I continue to struggle with it all.

  I let my mind go back to my supposed reality. Hadley Combs died January tenth at the age of fifteen. Three months before she would have been sixteen, she was gone.

  New information came in on Collector’s cold case and we followed it to Leed, Alabama. The trail for Hadley was cold so we had to move on. I wouldn’t want to be held back in finding my mother’s killer so I wasn’t about to hold back Collector in finding his sister’s.

  I didn’t let myself think about Hadley much, well except when she haunts me in my dreams. We had a case in front of us. One that had haunted Collector since he was seventeen. It took time and work, but we were able to help the man who is our leader close the case of his younger sister’s murder. He found love with his woman Sonnie in the process. The two had history … the kind that feels tainted, but it’s not. Somehow those two came full circle turning tragedy into something, well, something good for them both. Raleigh Ragnes, Collector’s sister, died as a child, she’s not coming back. It took years, but Collector and Sonnie can finally live life again.

  Me, I don’t remember a time I actually felt like I was living. I’ve been in survival mode from the day I was born. I don’t know if I would recognize what it feels like to really live anymore. It’s been so long.

  That’s when it happened.

  With our time in Alabama coming to a close, we had only a few things to square away before hitting the road, when Hadley pops up. In the flesh, right within arms reach, she was in front of me.

  Emerson ‘Sonnie’ Flint, Collector’s woman and a talented tattoo artist finished with her client. We were planning to hit the road and seek out the devil’s next debt. In a flash, the client was no longer a stranger getting ink. No, the woman with deep strands of almost black hair and a face that is perfectly symmetrical accented with a mole that any super model would be jealous of stood in front of me.

  An angel in the flesh, a ghost revived, and everything I thought I had behind me was in front of me.

  Hadley Combs.

  Suddenly, the girl I once shared everything with is back in front of my face after all this time. To see her, really see her, getting inked by Sonnie. I don’t know if I feel the weight of the world suffocating me or elation that she is actually alive after all these years. It’s all too much to absorb after so long.

  I trace the scar down the left side my face resting my fingertip on the middle of the x tattoo under my eye. January tenth she was gone and my life was never the same again. Some people hate the number thirteen. Superstitions and all. Me, it’s the number ten. Roman numeral X. I was a teen when my mother was murdered, she was killed October tenth, the number ten twice over. Nothing ever happens good with the number ten and me. I got the tattoo to have a reminder every time I look in the mirror. It’s the mark of my own personal curse.

  All these years, I thought Hadley was dead. Only she’s not.

  Deacon has been using his connections as a former Navy SEAL to try to sort out her past and any records that may be able to be found. She was in Tennessee trying to get a job as a stripper. We missed her. The emails came, but they came too late. We can’t even confirm it was really her in Tennessee, but after our time there it wouldn’t surprise me. The emails described her, even the thumbprint sized birthmark on her left ass cheek. We weren’t sure it was her though, but now, seeing her, it’s all real.

  Someone knows her. Someone knows me. Someone knows our history and that same someone is keeping tabs on her. It seems this person wants me to find Hadley Combs after all these years.

  I don’t know who, but they emailed Collector and put us on her tail. Then they stopped. I can’t help but wonder not only where Hadley is but why me? Why is this stranger seeking me out? How do they know about Collector and the Devil’s Due MC? I have more questions than I do answers.

  I have more sleepless nights wondering about the girl who I once protected with everything I had. Even if everything I had wasn’t much, I gave it all to her. Hadley was ghost again. Until fate brought her back in front of me in Alabama, I couldn’t be sure she was really in Tennessee. Our time there was so brief.

  We gave up a marker in hopes that we would find her. I can only hope it wasn’t in vain. We now have an open call for anything at anytime just to buy a little more time in Tennessee. Only she got the slip on me. I don’t like owing anyone anything and yet, for her, here I am and my club too.

  Vipers Creed Motorcycle Club gave us more room in their town then most club’s would have so I can’t fault them. We pushed our luck far enough. At the end of the day, Hadley was already gone. More time in their territory wouldn’t change the outcome so why burn any bridges if we didn’t have to.

  It gnaws at me deep inside. I failed her. She believed in me and I let her down. She was right in front of me in Alabama and again she got away.

  “X, you gotta know we’ll find her. We’ll get this sorted.” Judge says from his full size bed in the shit hotel room we’re crashing in for the night in Mississippi.

  Typically, we crash two to a room. Only now, we have Sonnie so things have to change. Trapper likes his privacy and has been getting his room alone which is fine with me to still split the costs with Rowdy, Deacon, or Judge as necessary. Deacon gets up and pounds the pavement running before the fucking birds wake up. I’m not much for that shit, but he’s not a bad roommate when it happens.

  Working out, fresh air, not my style. Trapper joins him if the nightmares have him up which happens more days then it doesn’t. Rowdy, Judge, Collector, and myself don’t care about being fit or healthy. We like our cigarettes, booze, and women whenever we can get them. We all have to die one day, may as well do it in a blaze of glory.

  I look to Judge, the man who is always the steady calm to every storm. “If only it could be as easy as you make it sound.”

  When I locked in with the Devil’s Due Motorcycle Club I made myself one promise. I would stand behind these men to help them find closure. In turn, when my time came we would find the man who killed my mother. Hadley was never part of the equation, only she isn’t dead. Guilt gnaws at me that I am putting all of us at risk for Hadley when she obviously doesn’t want to be with me.

  Only the feelings inside me won’t shut down. Even after all these years, one look and I can’t help but wonder what it would be to taste her lips. Hadley was a beautiful young woman back then. Now, none of that has changed. She’s still beautiful, but there is a haunted look in her eyes, a fear that wasn’t there before. Seeing her, I find myself desperate to have a single opportunity to talk to her. I have so many questions.

  Then again, my brothers in the Devil’s Due MC all have things we wish to find answers to. We each have something chases us in our minds. For Collector it was his sister’s unsolved murder. For me, it’s been my mother’s murder … only now, I can’t help but wonder if Hadley needs my help more than I need to close the cold case I lived through. Could this be my time to find some sola
ce, some vengeance, and finally have answers to questions that have plagued me for over half my life now?

  Knowing this changes everything for me. I will do anything and everything I can to find Hadley. If her life isn’t good, I’m going to make it good. If her life is fine, I’ll walk away and never look back. No need in me stirring up anything for her or myself.

  Nomads.

  The lifestyle of the club fits me. No place to call home, just six men riding together to seek justice for the wrongs in our lives. We don’t really have officer positions, but if we did, Dover ‘Collector’ Ragnes would probably be what most would consider our president. He’s always on top of where we should be and what we should focus on for the time. Rowdy would be our VP, he’s always Collector’s right hand man. The two can read each other without a single word spoken. Judge is like our secretary, he’s always even keeled and level headed no matter how tough the situation. Deacon is treasurer, our accountant for the group. He keeps us organized and our finances from dwindling away along with finding jobs when necessary.

  It’s not an easy life, but we make it work. For Collector, Deacon, and Judge, they each have an income that’s steady from inheritance, early retirement, and stocks. Rowdy gets his income from side jobs in places we stop as do I. Trapper is the wild card and seems to have money without anyone asking where it comes from.

  Most of mine comes from fixing up motorcycles. With my funds getting a little low, I’ll put a sign on the chopper I’m riding now. She’ll sell quick and I’ll invest some of the income to grab another fixer-upper. One that is still road safe so we don’t lose time on the go, but could use some care. It’s a cycle of finding something that needs attention, giving it some elbow grease, some time, and when it’s right, sell the bitch for a profit.

  We each do our own thing and we somehow always make it work, coming out on top. As a group we have even taken on a few private clients, solving their unsolved crimes. In the end we live by the motto, the Devil always gets his due. We are happy to make sure it comes on a regular basis.

  Our time in Leed, Alabama usually meant a few odd jobs for Rowdy and me with Old Dog, Earl Wilbur. Work didn’t come, though, as the Devil claimed more than his share while we were there.

  Old Dog, Earl Wilbur, the man who was a father figure to all of us didn’t make it. In an effort to save Sonnie, he passed away. Alabama holds a lot of history for more than one of us. We lost Old Dog, but Collector claimed his woman, Sonnie and we gained her into our misfit family. It’s all happened in rapid succession. It seems like so much to process.

  This is new territory for us all having a woman around. The upside of all of this is we managed to solve the cold case of Collector’s little sister’s murder in our time there. Fate. Cupid. Anyone can call it whatever. I call it coincidence.

  People buy into that romance shit. If you look for it hard enough, I’m sure it can be found. There’s someone out there for everyone, all that bullshit. Shit, shit, and more fucking shit.

  Love. Never known it.

  Acceptance. Never had it.

  Freedom. Depends on how you define it.

  Only with Hadley it was all different. She loved me. Not in the climb on my cock and ride herself to oblivion way, I see so many woman do. No, what Hadley and I shared even at our young age was a slow burn in your soul deep, she understood me way kind of love, companionship, and partnership. We were young. We were innocent and yet hardened by life. Even in all the dark, she found light with me.

  She believed in me when I didn’t fucking believe in myself. Then she was gone.

  She loved deep. She loved hard. She loved me.

  Acceptance. Hadley took me at face value. No one cared to hear the story of my mother’s murder. The cops simply took me away and never put any resources into finding her killer. No one stopped in the deep south of Louisiana to give me a chance to explain. I saw him. Her killer. I know who did it. I remember finding her and seeing a figure running away. Deep in the recesses of my mind, I know I can identify him. Yet no one asked me back then. They didn’t question me. Instead, I was handed a pillowcase to fill as my new luggage and carted off to foster care. All the kids told me I was jinxed, a black soul one little girl said.

  I wasn’t cursed.

  Voodoo, black magic, I didn’t have the bad juju they all said I did.

  Hadley didn’t look down on me for getting out of the system to face life on my own. She didn’t even gasp in surprise that I’m the one who found my mother’s body. She simply looked up at me with her midnight black eyes shimmering and said, “well you may be a bastard, but you’re still good to me Owen Maximus.”

  She accepted who I was. She accepted where I came from. She accepted where I wanted to be … and it wasn’t living on the streets of NOLA.

  Freedom. Hadley freed me from the chains of my past. She didn’t care where I came from or where I was headed. She only wanted to be with me.

  Hadley gave me a simple freedom to be me. She freed me from society’s chains by not judging me. Hadley was my escape from all the bad.

  Until she simply disappeared.

  Chapter Two

  ~Hadley~

  Memphis, Tennessee. If I can get back to Memphis, maybe I can blend in. If Marco finds me, he’ll take me back to Lo’ren. I’m in too deep and I have been for too long. Lo’ren always told me I would never escape. I did. There will be hell to pay.

  Lo’ren runs the streets of New Orleans, the west side, the east side, and even the fucking French Quarter. There isn’t a part of the underworld in the city he doesn’t have his hands in. And to keep people in their place, he has Marco as his goon number one or right hand, whichever one wants to call him.

  I call them both dangerous.

  I thought I could settle outside of Leed, Alabama after the mishap in Tennessee.

  I was wrong.

  Working for Lo’ren, my job was not about learning my clients lives. No, my job was learning how to get them off no matter what they wanted. Tennessee should have been far enough. Yet, before I could secure a job, I ran into a client at a gas station.

  I knew it was a matter of time before word would get back to Lo’ren so I had to take off. Hopping the first bus out of town, I moved from one city to the next until I landed in Alabama. I found myself a job that wasn’t on my back. For the first time since I was separated from Owen I didn’t have to earn my keep sucking cock or with my legs spread wide.

  This old man hired me as a housekeeper and caretaker for his ailing wife. The pay was room and board, a little cash, and meals. The only other time in my whole life I have been able to sleep as peacefully as I have here was in the tent under the Ponchartrain Expressway with Owen Maximus Gallow.

  Once again, as soon as I thought I could have a little taste of something good, life steps in and screams ‘denied’ at me.

  It’s crazy, every time I think back to how we ended up together. My mind goes to the place that started it all.

  Closing my eyes, I tune out the world. Music soothes the soul. It’s the only comfort I’ve had in my entire life. Sitting at the Basin Street Station, I sing to myself.

  I tried to work a corner on Decatur only to get told it was taken. I don’t quite understand how a city block is taken, but I also don’t have any way to fight for something that isn’t mine or really anyone else’s either.

  With the bluesy rhythm sounding in my mind, I give my heart to the words.

  “I will not be broken,

  the world is my ocean,

  I refuse to drown.”

  I make up my own song as I refuse to let the sadness of my life weigh me down.

  “Set sail, I’ll never fail …

  not the way you did me.

  Dear Momma, do you even know?

  He stole my soul.”

  The agony cuts deep while I drop my vocals into a low hum fighting my emotions. My mother chose a man and her drugs over me. I’m on the streets pedaling for pennies and not a single person cares.


  “Your heart bleeds into your music,” the raspy voice calls me from my trance. “Not safe to sing with your eyes closed here.”

  He’s tall, his dark hair shaggy, but his clothes aren’t torn or filthy like so much in this city. I see a kindness in his eyes I have never experienced before in my life. There is a sparkle of life. In a split second this young man has given me hope when I thought all was lost.

  Extending my hand, I do the only thing that seems natural, “I’m Hadley and you are?”

  He smiles. White teeth show as he takes my hand in his and electricity shoots through us both. “Owen. I would love to hear the rest of your song.”

  The teen from my past who showed me not every human being was evil. Not once in the time we lived on the streets together did he take advantage of me or my situation. He never forced himself on me. As many nights as I spent dreaming of a single touch of his lips to mine, he never once did. The bond Owen and I shared was one built on a foundation of trust, reliance, and deep rooted care, compassion, and love for one another.

  I was fourteen, a child, but I had been driven into an adult’s world years before. Owen was the only person I ever felt safe with. He was the only person then and even still now that I ever desired on my own. Inside and out, Owen Maximus Gallow intrigued me, captivated me, and kept me wanting more with him and more from life.

  He loved me, I know he did. Maybe not in the romantic way but we were a family of our own making. Whether he knew it or not, I believed in us back then. I believed we would some how make our way off the streets and build a life together.

  Then it was all taken from me, from him, and from us.

  In a matter of moments, I was beaten, taken, and then tortured until I broke.

  There is a darkness inside all of us. A place so deep the only thing left is simple survival. It’s primal really. The mind gives up long before the body. In some crazy twisted way, my body kept going long after my emotions and brain shut down. Then when my body had enough, my mind clicked back on like the light switch was flipped.