Bonded Couple

by Laran Mithras

  Twenty remained silent, but I could see a shift in his posture.

  Jefferson shook his head as if to clear it of bad visions. "We can't play nice with this now or we'll lose." He pointed over his shoulder. "This is just the beginning of this shit. I know it. The gloves have to come off, Sammy."

  I guessed Sammy was Twenty's real name.

  "They have to come off and Lord knows I'll do all I can to help. But I can only do so much. The state police will get involved and I have little pull there. I won't be able to cover much when things get ugly, so you'll have to be exceptionally good at whatever you do."

  The female deputy came up holding a paper envelope. She said, "Plastic lighter."

  Jefferson nodded. "Get it to the lab." He looked briefly at Twenty. "Go on, get out of here. Make sure Randall gets the message."

  Randall McCloskey was Dealer.

  We mounted up and left the scene.

  ~ ~ ~

  I kept a sharp eye for vehicles on the way back, but other than an Iron Crows motorcycle patrol cruising around, I saw nothing.

  Twenty left us in the clubhouse and went to talk to Dealer.

  Faces were somber and angry. Of the former Sons of Aggression, only Slicer was present. He and Kristy approached me at the same time. He said, "Is it true? Burned alive?"

  I nodded, feeling tired. Numb.

  My wife hugged my arm and I could feel her hands trembling. She laid her face against my shoulder.

  Slicer shook his head. "This is bad news, Jim."

  I tapped my nametag. "Stiff."

  He ran a hand through his unruly hair. "Right, sorry."

  Kristy squeezed my arm. "Can we go home?" Something in her voice sounded very serious.

  I focused on her and her concerned eyes. "I think... we're done here for the night. I don't see why not."

  She pulled me to the table for our helmets. Something was up with her and I knew she wasn't going to wait.

  I ended a day that should have been the happiest of my life, aside from my marriage to Kristy, with something less than happiness, for certain. The pain of finding out a brother was dead felt like a living force in me, draining me of energy and that happiness I should have had from earning my colors.

  I told Grannie we were leaving and my phone would be on. Kristy clung to me as I started the Harley. I heard the flat zipper sound of the starter kick the Sportster to life. I felt the weight of my colors and the responsibility that went with them. I wanted to hold my head high in pride, but I couldn't; the anger made me hunch over.

  I pulled out and rode us home.

  CHAPTER 8

  I didn't know what to expect from Kristy, but it certainly wasn't what developed. I sat on the couch and leaned my head back.

  She sat next to me and gripped my arm. "I'm scared, Jim."

  Out of anyone who frequented the club, I was sure she was okay to call me Jim in my off time. I felt amusement at my nickname, but it was brief. Given because of my stiff erection when seeing Dealer take my wife while I was chained down. Stiff for my knife wound in my calf. And stiff for drinks? I wanted to snort, but it wasn't the time.

  She said, "I feel like we're losing something."

  I swiveled my eyes to her in that look of, "Like duh?"

  She firmed her lips. "I feel like we're losing us."

  Anger over Firehose fed my frustration. "Well, lucky for you you're gaining Ghost."

  "Stop that." Her lips formed a pout.

  "What? The truth uncomfortable?"

  "I want to talk about us."

  "I've been here. I'm always here. We go to the club and you're gone the whole day in his office."

  "That's not true."

  "Oh? Sure..."

  "He's been nice to me—"

  I bit off, "How many times has his cock been in you?"

  "But you like it."

  I looked at her for a long second. "Maybe I don't anymore."

  She sat back a little in confusion.

  I pursued the point. "Maybe I realized weeks ago that you were growing away from us."

  Her lower lip quivered. "I just wanted to be liked."

  "You don't have to open your legs for every dick that swings in your face—"

  Her slap on my cheek echoed in the trailer. I blinked away stars and sighed.

  "I wasn't doing everybody."

  "Fine, so your point is, you're scared because you're growing away from us—"

  "That's not what I said."

  "But that's what you meant, because that's how everything is."

  She went quiet, looking at me, searching my face. "I'm sorry I slapped you."

  I chuckled. "It was probably deserved. It's been a hell of a day." Rising in me was a wellspring of darkness: the murder; the beating; the knife-work; finding Firehose.

  "Are you sure?"

  "It's been..." Great, despite the murder. What would you think of me? What does God think of me? Am I justified in what I did? Or no? "It's been quite a time."

  She hugged me, burying her nose in my neck. "I don't want to lose you, Jim."

  "You never have."

  "I stopped doing things with Viking and the others."

  "But not Ghost."

  "He's been nice to me."

  "Anyone can be nice to you."

  "I mean, since Dealer dumped me."

  I shifted against her. "Dumped? Like you two were going steady? This isn't high school."

  "You know what I mean."

  "Yes, I do, and I don't think you do. Both of them, and the others too, were just using you. Like I used Angela, and Donna, and Tequila."

  "That's a mean thing to say."

  "It's the truth, Kristy. Those guys might like you, but you were a fun time; that's all."

  "I wanted to be included..."

  "You are already. Do you see Smoke or Celia throwing their legs open?"

  "Smoke is Sonar's girl."

  I twisted, turning to her. "And you're my girl. You're my wife."

  She settled back a bit. "Of course—"

  "Then maybe start acting like one."

  "But Tequila does things..."

  I sighed. "Yeah, I know. And it seems fine for her and them. I don't know."

  "You disapprove of her?"

  I shrugged. "No, but it seems like she's the only one who manages it fine."

  She frowned, knowing I was accusing her of being the one that wasn't. "I like her."

  "Maybe you should talk to her. Find out how she handles it before you go trying to mimic her. All I know is, it grates on me every day I see that closed door and you behind it. It's like the door to our marriage."

  She had tears. "I don't want that for us."

  I was curious. "What do you want?"

  "For us to be happy. Like we were when we got married and before that. When you and I were happy to be with just each other."

  "Funny, that's what I want, too."

  Her mouth was open, holding her breath, looking at me with watery eyes. "I'll stop with Ghost."

  I didn't believe it and my tone said so. "Oh, really...?"

  "Don't patronize me."

  "I think you have a lot to think about."

  "What about us?"

  I held up my hand. "Here I am; I'm waiting for you. I have been all along."

  ~ ~ ~

  I expected some new thing in the morning with Kristy. We rode to the clubhouse in silence, but I could tell she was deep in thought. I expected some new thing at the clubhouse, but people there were subdued.

  I took a plate of eggs from a dour-looking Grannie. The cafeteria was eerily quiet, with only the sound of forks hitting plates. I sat next to Gunner. "You got a few minutes after breakfast?"

  He looked at me a second, his eyes drawing down and considering my face. "Sure thing."

  "Thanks." I ate quietly, my first full day as a member.

  After breakfast, Gunner met me in the common room. "What's eatin' ya?"

  "Can we talk outside?"

  One eyebro
w drew down. "Guess so."

  I led him out. I propped a boot on the peg of my Harley. "I've been real troubled."

  The chaplain said nothing, just waited.

  "I'm having nightmares of the body being dug—"

  "Enough of that. Best to never mention it even when you think we're alone. Ever."

  I sighed. "Does God approve?"

  He coughed. "Sheeit. I knew it was going to be same old thing."

  "Huh?"

  "Every member who gets in deep with what we do asks me the same thing."

  "So all you say is 'sheeit'?"

  He wheezed for a second in laughter. "No. Listen here, do you think God approves if you save an innocent life?"

  "I would imagine—"

  "There's no imagining about it. Do you think He approves if you kill an evil man?"

  " 'Thou shalt not kill.' "

  "Aye, there's that, but there's also, 'a time to kill.' "

  "What makes what I did right?"

  "Imagine this, if you will. Some pusher slips some bad stuff to kids at the school. It makes its way around. Some little boy or girl overdoses on the stuff and dies." His finger poked my chest. "You stopped that."

  I sighed again.

  He said, "You also saved innocent lives that were being targeted by the agent. You think that guy gave a shit about who was good and who was bad? He was under contract."

  He made sense, but still...

  "God's laws aren't man's laws. When you and I stand at Judgment for all that has happened, we'll be blameless, in all things. As to the here and now, God knows what's in here." He thumped his finger against my chest. "Even if the law thinks you did a bad thing, God knows you did the right thing."

  "But murder—"

  He tapped my chest harder. "Good men who let evil destroy good are not really men. This town is friendly, clean, and safe." He wheezed. "Just not safe for the ones who would destroy it. We're in a war, Stiff. It's us against the forces of those who would see our kids dead, our streets filled with crime, our citizens scared to go outside. What do you think God wants? You think He wants that?"

  "No."

  "Then fight the good fight, even if it means breaking the law. Because the law won't stop all that shit from coming in. The law just picks up the pieces."

  I felt it, too. The cops kept traffic safety, but the rest was showing up to take pictures of the crime scene, grab evidence, and bag the bodies. Police were reactive, not proactive.

  Gunner growled, "What's going on in that pea-brain of yours?"

  I chuckled. "I was just thinking how the police were reactive, and we're proactive."

  He wheezed. "Good way of lookin' at it. You keep that in mind and those nightmares will turn to something else. Don't let fear rule you. Live by faith."

  I nodded. "Thanks, chaplain."

  He grunted and left me to my thoughts.

  CHAPTER 9

  An emergency session of church was called for the following day.

  I checked in with Flats. He was in the yard circling a tow truck that looked as old as Keystone. I thumbed off my Sportster and said, "What the hell is that?"

  Flats looked at me like I was daffy. "71 Ford tow truck. What else does it look like?"

  "Does it work?"

  He grunted. "Needs a bit of work, but not much. Leaks oil like a busted supertanker."

  "Cheap?"

  His face lit up. "Seven fifty."

  "Is that good?"

  He cackled.

  I sat at my desk. It was another metal thing that looked like what the club used. I checked messages: only one voicemail, an inquiry about a part we couldn't possibly have yet.

  Flats leaned in the doorway and wiped his hands on a rag.

  I said, "When are your cutting tools and torches supposed to be here?"

  He shrugged. "A week, maybe. Can't do much until then. I'm going to run this over to the clubhouse and see if the guys in the shop will fix her up."

  I nodded. There was little point to being here if there was no work to be done yet. I phoned the caller back and informed him the business hadn't opened yet, but to keep us in mind the next month.

  I looked into the bay. Flats had managed some spare shelves and bits and pieces of product and supplies were on them. Then I took a walk over to the building at the side and back. It was a goodly sized warehouse with broken windows at the top in four places. I wasn't sure if we could use all of the steel shelving. Much of it looked like it was made for tires.

  I returned to my desk and plugged in my laptop. I scanned a couple of sites for used auto parts and made a list of the things we would want to chop from a vehicle. I jotted the same list on another piece and went and taped it to the shelving in the bay. Flats would see it and understand.

  I checked my schedule: alarms and lights going in tomorrow. With nothing else to be accomplished, I mounted up and rode out. I kept an eye out for Surenos, but I didn't expect them to be back for a while. The last time we had roughed them up, it had been a couple months before we saw them again. Although I felt we had another reprieve, I didn't think they were going to take the hint – not with having gone so far as to take Firehose and send their own message.

  I stopped in at the Daily Dollar. No Harleys were out front. My watch showed just a little past open. I walked in.

  Tequila grinned from behind the bar. "I thought I heard your limp."

  "My what?" I was incensed.

  "Really."

  "Is it that bad?" I tried not to limp.

  She rolled her eyes with a playful smile. "It could only be worse if you had a peg-leg."

  I made a goofy face at her and gave my best pirate imitation. "Arr..."

  She laughed.

  "So where's Gripper?"

  She shifted her head to the side as if the answer didn't matter. "Some closed-door meetings going on amongst the officers. He'll be here later." She looked at the door. "Why don't you come on over to this side? I don't think anyone will be here anytime soon."

  I gave her a suspicious look.

  "Stand by me."

  I went behind the bar and leaned my back against it. "What do you want?" I drew it out sarcastically, but my smile told her I didn't mean it.

  She gripped my jeans and rubbed. "I don't know. I don't have a bouncer to check you out. What are you packing in here? Something fun?"

  I chuckled. "I better never find Gripper in your position."

  She laughed, short and sharp. Her fingers worked at my zipper then slid inside.

  I wondered if I should stop her, but the graze of her fingers across my dick felt fun.

  "Oh... no underwear, huh?"

  "I don't like the way it bunches up and pinches when I ride."

  "Most don't." She got her hand in and gripped me. She tugged slowly, drawing it out of my jeans. She was smiling up at me, her heavy mascara accentuating her gothic sexiness.

  "So how did you get your name, anyway? I imagine it's not Tequila?"

  She giggled. "Nope. Ramona. Ramona Knox. Dean kept telling me—"

  "Dean? Big Pizza?"

  She nodded. "He kept telling me not to ask for tequila when I started hanging around with him at the clubhouse. I guess the guys in the Iron Crows don't like it. But that was my favorite drink. So I asked, and kept asking. I figured, why not?"

  "Oh? Did you finally get some?"

  She made a regretful face at me. "Sure wish I hadn't. They finally handed me off a drink one night and said it was tequila. It was, but mixed with vodka. I puked so bad I thought my stomach came out." Her hand had me hard and was stroking slowly, tugging on me in a wonderful way.

  My cock was fully stretched and straining, flexing in her hand. I leaned back a little more and felt the sweet tension in my thighs complimenting her hand motions. I sighed happily.

  She murmured, "You sure have a nice one. I'll have to kiss Kristy for this."

  "Huh?"

  "Remember, she told me I could be with you whenever..."

  I scrunched my
lips to the side. "I don't know; we had a talk last night."

  She moved her hand faster, pulling at my shaft and my excitement. "Oh?"

  "I think she regrets all the extra-curriculars."

  Her hand stopped instantly. "Aw..." Her hand moved again. "Then I guess I'll have to apologize to her instead."

  I closed my eyes. Her hand felt fantastic. Each pull drew on my desire and my shaft responded with throbs. I might not have ever thought getting a handjob behind a bar was anything to add to my mental wish list, but what was happening right here held me as surely as chains. I arched my back a little more, feeling the tension increase.

  "You're liking this?"

  "Mm yep." After I said it, I began to pant. My shaft felt so swollen and full. Each pull yanked on me in a way I felt all the way down to my feet. I began groaning.

  She moved and I opened my eyes. She had grabbed a small towel. "Come on, Stiff. Give it to me." Her eyes had that smoky look to them and I could tell she was turned on, too.

  Cum? In a bar? The door's open. Her tugs yanked away my fears. She was going to make me cum no matter what I thought. And sure enough, I felt the tickle down in my feet. Tingles and tension raced up my legs and back. My cock swelled in her hand and tightened. My mouth opened and I growled that final tipping point of release.

  Her other hand held the towel to the helmet of my shaft and she milked my orgasm into the cloth.

  I trembled, jerking, and felt the burn in my thighs of the muscles being taut too long. I sagged against the bar as my knees buckled.

  A rumble outside alerted us.

  She smiled wickedly at me. "Just in time, I guess." She squeezed me off and put the towel in the sink. "You better put that away."

  I moved quickly for the bathroom with my dick sticking straight out. But I made it in plenty of time. I washed my face and hands and then stuffed my cock back inside my jeans.

  I came out, wiping my wet hands on my pants.

  Gripper was out there, hands on the bar and leaning. He looked over at me. "Dealer's got something special for you and me."

  "Oh?"

  "We're going to be taking a run into the city tomorrow."

  "Don't we have church—"

  "We'll be back by then, hopefully. It all revolves around what we find out."

  I stuck my elbow on the bar and looked at the big man. "What's he going to have us do?"