Whether my father or the MC found the place for me, though, I hate like hell to be indebted to either of them. My father’s political ambitions have always taken precedent over his family’s needs, and I’m used to being ignored unless he needs something from me. His favors always come with a price. And as for the club… well, they’ve been a presence in my life almost from the moment I was born. They’re pretty much inescapable. They own this town, and so to some extent, they own practically everyone in it.
I left Tanner Springs in part because I didn’t want them to own me, as well. Unfortunately, my life circumstances are such at the moment that I have little choice but to move back here temporarily and accept the help they’ve offered — if, in fact, they’ve offered it. But as soon as I’m back on my feet, my intention is to get myself and my son the hell away from here.
After this, I don’t want to be in anyone’s debt, ever again.
I open my mouth to tell Angel I’ll call Dad later, when a noise from down the hall interrupts me. With a yell that sounds like a high-pitched war whoop, Noah comes barreling back into the living room, flying over the arm of the ratty couch and doing a somersault onto the cushions.
“Mom mom mom mom mom!” he cries. “I’m hungry!”
I shush him. “Okay, honey. Calm down. We’ll eat soon.”
Noah jumps up from the couch and starts running in circles around Angel. “Moommm!” he yells again, “I’m HUNGRY!”
“Noah, stop it,” I admonish. “Indoor voice.”
“Okay, I’m out,” Angel calls above the din. Clearly, he’s had enough four year-old for one day. “See you later, sis.”
Noah immediately quiets. “Are you leaving, Uncle Angel?”
“Yeah, buddy, I’m taking off.” Angel grabs his leather cut from where it’s hanging on one of the kitchen chairs.
“Can I have a ride on your motorcycle?” Noah asks, his eyes big as saucers.
“Sorry, bud, you’re a little too young yet.” Angel reaches out and ruffles my son’s dark brown hair. “One of these days, though, maybe.”
Angel turns and clomps out of the apartment, his heavy motorcycle boots thumping loudly as he descends to the first floor. A few seconds later, the rumble of Angel’s motorcycle below reaches us. Noah immediately runs to the window and stares in fascination as the bike drives off, his nose pressed hard against the glass.
I watch my son and try to push down the spike of worry that rises up inside me. Noah has always been transfixed by motorcycles. He’s had a near-obsession with the machines almost from his birth. As I stand there contemplating my young son, I hope like hell I’m not making yet another huge mistake by bringing him here to Tanner Springs. I’d hate to look back at this moment as a possible reason he ended up getting mixed up with a damn motorcycle club — like every other member of my family seems to in one way or another.
Including Noah's father.
I shake my head and take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. I just have to hope that love of two-wheeled vehicles isn’t something that’s passed down genetically. Noah has no idea who his father is, and Noah's dad has no idea he has a son.
And I’ve been telling myself for years that everyone is better off that way. If I could manage to keep it a secret, I reasoned, Noah would grow up not knowing that father is an outlaw biker. And the man who knocked me up almost five years ago will never have to know that our brief, meaningless fling produced anything more than an earth-shattering orgasm and a wave of regret the next morning.
Not that I could ever regret having my son. Noah is the only good thing that’s ever come out of one of my multitude of mistakes. Sure, being a single mom has been tough. There have been times when I wasn’t quite sure how I would ever make it through. But even so, I wouldn’t trade being Noah’s mom for anything. My little boy is sweet, sensitive, and the center of my world. Not to mention smart as a whip. Too smart, sometimes. At age four, he’s already reading, and I sometimes wonder how long I have before he knows more than his mama does.
About six months ago, when we were still in Denver, he started to realize that most of his little playmates had a mommy and a daddy. Not long after, he began asking me where his father was, who he was, why he didn’t live with us. Noah is clearly starting to look for male role models to emulate. Which is why I’m not exactly thrilled to see him staring out the window in longing as Angel drives away on his bike. I love my brother, but he isn’t exactly my idea of the man I want Noah to model himself after.
Little does my son know that his own father is a biker, as well. But I can’t imagine that Noah's dad would react with anything other than dismay if I told him that he had procreated. And there’s no way I’m going to saddle my son with a father who’s indifferent to him. It’s better for him to have no father at all than a father like that. At least, that’s what I tell myself.
So, I’ve kept my secrets buried deep inside me. I’ve reconciled myself to the fact that Noah will probably grow up not ever knowing his dad. Although recent events, and moving back here to my hometown, might make that a little more complicated.
As I watch my young son stare out the window watching his uncle drive away, I make myself a solemn promise then and there. Even though I’m back in Tanner Springs — site of some of my stupidest mistakes — I’m done doing dumb things that will come back to haunt me. Today marks the end of the past, I tell myself. No more dwelling on things that have already happened. No regrets. But no more mistakes, either.
3
Cas
The best thing about being away from Tanner Springs? Coming home.
I roll up to the clubhouse to a raucous welcome from my brothers. I’ve been gone for about three weeks, on some club business for the MC. The club president, Rocco Anthony, sent me out on some business for him as Sergeant at Arms for the Lords of Carnage. I was traveling around to some other chapters to deliver some confidential information in person. I have no issue doing whatever the prez asks me to — hell, just the chance to spend some hours on the open road means I’m always up for a trip — but damn, it feels good to get back to my town and hang out with my club.
My return is timed to correspond with a club meeting that is supposed to happen later this afternoon, which Rock specifically wants me to be at. Apparently some shit’s gone down while I was away. But luckily, there’s still time before church to throw back a few shots and accept the back slaps of the other men as they welcome me home.
Jewel, a sandy-haired, buxom bartender with killer legs, pours a line of shots down the bar for me and my brothers. Gunner, Shifter, and Tank hold theirs up to me, and the four of us pound them back. Then we set them down for Jewel to serve us another round. I shoot the shit with the men for a few minutes, but eventually I find myself scanning the room for my best buddy, Angel. I finally see him back by the pool table, talking to a couple of the other brothers, one hand absently sliding up the skirt of one of the club girls.
Detaching myself from the men, I amble over to where Angel is and slap him on the back. “Hey, fucker,” I say.
“My man Ghost!” Angel yells with a wide grin. “Long time no fuckin’ see!” He’s clearly started drinking before me, and is feeling no pain. “All right, y’all, I gotta go catch up with my brother.” He holds up the bottle he’s been drinking from and turns to me. “Grab a beer and come outside to have a smoke with me, man.”
Ghost is my road name. Since my parents named me Casper, I supposed you’d think the choice was a gimme. But that’s not the main reason they call me that. They call me Ghost because I wait. I stay silent and in the shadows, watching and biding my time. I don't make my move until I’m absolutely sure of everything. If I’m coming for you, you’ll never even know I'm there. Until it's too late.
I signal to Jewel at the bar and she nods and opens a cold bottle of beer for me, then hands it to me as I walk by. Outside, Angel lights up a smoke and offers me one, which I take. He leans against the outer wall of the clubhouse and cocks his head at me.
“So, fucker, what’s been goin’ on? How’s the pussy up north?”
I laugh. “About the same as the pussy down here. A little colder.” I take a pull of my beer and nod toward the inside of the clubhouse. “You got any idea what this meeting’s about? Rock said it was important, but he didn’t tell me much more. Just that I needed to get down here for it.”
“Yeah, I got some idea,” Angel replies vaguely. “But best wait for you to hear it from the prez. Too much to explain, and fuck it, we’re not on the clock yet.” He raises the smoke to his lips and takes a long drag, then blows it out. “Hey, you know, you ain’t the only one back in town. Guess who showed up a couple days ago?”
“Who’s that?” I have no idea who he could be talking about.
“My little sis.” He takes another puff. “Seems Jenna got her fool self evicted from her place in the city. Lost her job to boot. She’s moving back here for a bit. To get back on her feet, she says.” Angel spits. “That girl is one goddamn hot mess.”
I freeze, my bottle lifted halfway to my lips. “Jenna’s back in town?”
Shit. I haven’t seen Jenna Abbott for what, almost five years? She hardly ever gets back to Tanner Springs. The last time I can remember was when she flunked out of college one semester, and came back here for a few months until she scraped together enough money to leave again. I remember it well. Hell, it would be hard to forget, after what happened between us the night before she left. I still think about it from time to time, on the rare occasions that I spend the night alone.
“Yeah,” Angel shrugs. “She’s back. Dad set her and her kid up in the apartment above Rebel Ink.”
“Her kid?” I blink in surprise. I don’t remember Angel or their dad Abe mentioning that Jenna had a kid. Then again, they almost never talk about Jenna at all.
“Yup. A boy. Noah, his name is.” Angel throws his butt on the ground, not bothering to grind it out with his heel. “He’s what, four? I think that’s what she said.” He snorts and shakes his head. “I helped Jenna move in, and the kid wouldn’t stop screamin’ and tear-assin’ around. I don’t even know why the hell people have kids anyway.”
“If no one had kids, you wouldn’t be here,” I point out absently. Angel changes the subject then, and starts talking about the new tattoo he got while I was gone, but I tune him out.
Holy hell. Jenna Abbott.
My mind flashes on an image of her, as clear and fresh as the last time I saw her. She’s a girl who makes an impression. Light, almost transparent blue eyes that you could almost drown in, like clear water. Thick, wavy blond hair that other women notice and comment on when she walks by, and that makes a man want to fist his hands in. Full, plump lips that have always reminded me of ripe, fleshy fruit. They made me want to taste them every time I looked at them, long before I actually did.
Fuck. Big mistake letting myself think about Jenna. Before I can do anything to stop it, my dick is instantly hard. Hoping like hell Angel won’t notice anything, I quickly sit down on a stack of old tires a couple feet away and pretend I’m listening to him, nodding my head so he won’t notice I’m tuning him out.
I’ve known Jenna Abbott for practically my whole life. At least a dozen years now. The first time I met her, she was just a kid, but on the cusp of puberty. So I had a front row seat to her entire transformation from girl to woman. At the time, of course, I was going through my own adolescence, so I got to watch her grow tits and hips just as my hormones began to rage out of control.
She was one of my guiltiest fantasies when I would jack off at night in my darkened bedroom. The next day, I’d see Angel (he went by his real name, Gabe, back then) and I’d wonder if he could see it in my face that I was beating my meat to thoughts of my best friend’s sister. Of course, looking back on it now, I’m sure he never suspected a thing. It was just my guilty conscience bothering me. Thankfully, it’s not like Gabe and I spent a lot of time around her, anyway. Still, I saw her just often enough around school and town for her to be one of the rotating mental images in my spank bank.
By the time we were in high school, I discovered that most of the girls in my class were more than willing to get down and dirty with me in the back of any car I could beg, borrow or steal. Little by little, I forgot about Jenna Abbott’s hot little body through the distraction of all the easy tail I was getting. Eventually, I graduated high school (barely), and the next I heard, Jenna had gone off to college.
My adolescent obsession with her probably would have ended right there, relegated to a mere footnote in my sexual history. That is, if she hadn’t moved back to Tanner Springs after flunking out of college at the end of her freshman year.
What happened between us that summer was something no one but the two of us ever knew about. I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell her brother, or even worse, her father. It had been just a fling, anyway. Just a summer hookup between two people whose bodies didn’t seem to be able to get enough of each other. I shift uncomfortably on the stack of tires now as my dick grows even harder at the memory. Even with all the women I’ve had — far too many to count by now — Jenna Abbott stands out as the hottest, most fuckable piece of ass I’ve ever had the pleasure of sinking my cock into.
And now she’s back in town again.
Probably not good.
Striker opens the back door to the club and sticks his head out. “Hey. Rock says church in five.”
Angel straightens. “Got it.” Turning to me, he asked, “You ready?”
“Yeah,” I reply, nodding over toward the bushes. “Just gotta take a leak first.”
Angel follows Striker inside, and I stand and head off to talk my dick down and take piss.
So Jenna has a kid now. Damn. It’s hard to imagine; she’s still so young, maybe twenty-three or twenty-four now. I wonder what kind of curve ball life threw at her to make her a mom — though I imagine she’d probably be a good one, despite Angel’s griping about the kid. Angel isn’t exactly known for his patience.
Heading back inside for church, I find myself wondering how long Jenna’s going to stay in Tanner Springs this time. It’s gonna be tough to stay away from her, since now I know from our fling last time she was in town what she’s like in the sack. What we were like together. Sex with Jenna was off the goddamn charts. But that shit was dangerous back then, and nothing makes it any less dangerous now. Jenna Abbott needs to be off limits, I tell myself. Period.
I wander into the chapel after most of the guys are already there. As I take my place at the table, I get my first good look at most of the brothers since I got back. To my surprise, I see some fresh bruises I didn’t notice before in the dark of the bar. The expressions on their faces are tense, jaws set in tight grimaces. I realize now why Rock told me to be back for today’s meeting.
Looks like some shit has gone down while I was away.
4
Jenna
The stickie note with my dad’s office number and the request that I call him is still sitting next to the land line phone the next day. I glance at it guiltily as I clear Noah's lunch of canned spaghetti and meatballs — one of the only things I can get him to eat at the moment. Noah’s been restless for most of the morning, clamoring for me to take him to the park he noticed a few blocks away when we first drove through town. But the park is going to have to wait a bit. First, I need to spend some time hunting for a job.
I put Noah’s bowl in the sink and slouch down on the old, saggy sofa with my laptop. Immediately, Noah comes to sit down beside me, a wad of blue Play-Doh in his hand. “Look, Mommy, a dinosaur!” he beseeches, holding up a blob that could just as soon be a bunny rabbit. Or a cantaloupe, for that matter.
“Nice, bug,” I smile at him and log into a local job search site.
“Wait, wait! How about this? Mommy, can you tell what this is?” I look over again to see he has ever-so-slightly modified the blob by sticking another blob on top of it.
“Hmmm, I’m not sure,” I frown. “Is it… a fi
re engine?”
“No!” he says crossly, genuinely disappointed at my lack of vision. “It’s Sponge Bob!”
I suppress a sigh, realizing that the “guess what this is” game is probably going to go on forever unless I do something to stop it. “Bug, I have an idea,” I say, sitting up and putting the laptop on the coffee table in front of me. “How about you watch some Paw Patrol? Mommy’s got a little work to do.”
“Okay!” Noah says happily. He is always up for Paw Patrol. I find some episodes for him on YouTube. Then, when he’s situated and quiet, I pull my cell phone out of my pocket and head into the bedroom to resume my job search that way.
Just as I sit down on my unmade bed to start looking, the phone rings in my hand, startling me. It’s my father, calling from his personal number. I suppress a groan and answer.
“Hey, Dad,” I say.
“Jenna!” his voice booms through the phone. “You haven’t called me yet.”
I purse my lips against his admonishment. “Well, we’re talking now,” I say, keeping my voice bright. “What’s up?”
“Checking in on my daughter,” he says gruffly. “You all moved in?”
“Yes,” I tell him, and lean back against a pillow. “Not unpacked, but everything’s in the apartment. By the way, I wanted to thank you for helping me out with finding this place.”
“Well, it sure ain’t much of an apartment, that’s for sure,” he huffs. “But with the budget you gave me there weren’t many options. I don’t know why you don’t just move into the house. God knows there’s enough room for the two of you there.”
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