Merciless Ride

by Chelsea Camaron

  When I crawl in my bed each night, Tracie comes to me in my dreams. She reminds me I will never love again. I will never share a bed with anyone. Just as I cost her that dream, she is making sure to take it from me. I wake up drenched in sweat, my sheets soaked to the mattress and twisted into a disheveled mess as I have tossed and turned, fighting the demon within me. I couldn’t bring someone else into my nightmare. It would be unfair.

  In the end, she got everything she wanted, only she isn’t here to share the life she has created for me. I live the life she wanted us to have together. My house isn’t as big as she would have wanted, and it is not in a subdivision on a cul-de-sac, but it is a home. I work at the garage where most weeks are a five day work week, eight hours a day. If we have a rush order, I work late or weekends, but that doesn’t happen often. I have my club, but I only go on the transports occasionally when there isn’t anyone else to fill in. My Army career is long gone and there is no going back.

  Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder that is what they call it. Fucked up beyond any help is what I call it. Either way, I am no longer qualified to do my job. I am no longer one of the elite. My DD-214 lists me with an honorable discharge. My team sergeant and commanding officer didn’t want to completely tarnish my reputation, but they felt I was no longer fit for duty. Fit for duty. Hell, I am still not sure I’m fit for life, and it’s been six fucking years.

  Looking around me, I realize I have lost all control this time. The empty bottles of Jack Daniels litter my space, yet I can’t drink the memories away. I have done things I am not proud of. I have killed men. I have seen first-hand the damages of a civil war in a depraved country. I have walked away knowing my job only had a short-term impact and that one day those same, small boys I played soccer with in the street may grow into men who will want to kill me for merely being an American soldier. I have stared men in the eyes, watching them as they die. I have made good decisions and bad. I live with the consequences of my actions, no matter the lasting price I continue to pay. I served with honor, courage, commitment, and pride. And I would do it again in a heartbeat, no second guessing.

  My regret is in how I handled Tracie. My job was my job, and I was damn good at it. With all those skills in reading people, I never thought to carry them over into my personal life. I shut Tracie out and took for granted that she would be along for the ride, no matter what choices I made. I was wrong. Dead wrong and that death was hers.

  Typically, I can push it all down, put it aside and focus on day to day activities. When all else fails, I dump my problems in the bottom of a bottle. For these past three weeks, however, I can’t escape the memories. I can’t push down the thoughts.

  I get in the shower, the water turning red in my mind. I watch it swirl down the drain, remember washing her blood spatter and brain matter off my face, arms, and hands. I couldn’t get clean enough. I still can’t. I am tainted. Her blood covers my soul, it will never wash away. I let her down.

  With Tessie’s car ready, I have to get my head on straight to deliver it to her tomorrow. Her original problem was her alternator, but not wanting to risk further problems, she now has a new engine, new clutch, and new tires. Reality is, she needs a new car, but I know she can’t afford one.

  Man up, get the car to her, and let her go. She could use a friend, someone to take her out and allow her freedoms to let go and not feel the weight of the world on her shoulders. That’s what she needs, but it can’t be me. My demons don’t need to spill over into her already fucked up life.

  Shattered

  Work. Work. Work. After a busy day shift at Brinkley’s, my feet are dragging at Ruthless tonight.

  The bar is packed. It seems like the Desert Ghosts have most of their club here tonight. I see Thorn over at the pool tables with Tripp. The Ghosts club prez is not overly friendly. Hell, none of the guys are what I would call nice, whether Hellion or Ghost, but Thorn, that asshole comes off jaded.

  He is tall like Tripp, a little over six feet. He has close cut, dark brown hair, almost in a military style cut, and his blue eyes are cold and distant. Out of all the times the Ghosts have come to town, Thorn has been around only two or three of those times; just enough so you know who he is and the power he holds. Usually, it is his brother, Preacher, who happens to be the VP, and a handful of other members that ride in, stay for a few days, and then ride out. Not long after, the local Hellions will take a transport and be gone for two weeks and return again. This is the rinse and repeat type of cycle these guys have going on right now. The few times Thorn has come in, he has come off harsh and abrasive in demeanor. His presence alone gives me chills.

  Of course, Preacher is not one who gives off warm fuzzies, either. With him, you never know how the night will go. He is like every other biker: grab a beer, have a shot or two, find a barfly, tap that pussy, play some pool, shoot the shit with the boys, and go the hell home. Other nights, though, Preacher starts spouting off bible verses like it is a Sunday school church program. He’s a crazy fucker, that one.

  A fist slamming down on the bar causes the glasses around me to clank, drawing my attention away from the pool table area.

  “What, is that bitch too good to serve me?” I hear a gravelly voice ask.

  “Tessie is busy working the floor tonight. I’ll get you another Jack. Calm yourself,” Corinne says in an attempt to calm the drunken man.

  “Get my drink then fuck off, barfly.”

  Damn, Corinne is having it rough tonight, too, it seems. His voice doesn’t sound familiar, like one of my regulars, but the bar has been steady lately with the Ghosts, and I haven’t gotten used to all of them.

  Rex whistles at me, taking my attention back to the pool tables.

  Grabbing a tray, I take some beers over to Tripp, Rex, Thorn, and Preacher. Rex pops my denim skirt clad ass. As much as it infuriates me, I know better than to make a scene. Rex is Catawba Hellion VP; he won’t take any disrespect from me, or anyone, publically. Hell, privately he wouldn’t take my shit, either. I am trying so hard to break this cycle between us, though. Later, he won’t be getting me like he probably thinks he is. No, I am done, and I will be strong enough to stay away this time. Hopefully, before the night is over, he will find a barfly to take care of his needs just so I don’t have to remind him yet again that we are finished.

  Time passes as more drinks are poured. The night is continuing on, but the crowd is not letting up. Blowing my bangs out of my eyes with a huff of my breath, I step backwards to grab a rack of clean glasses from under the bar and am stopped as I bump into the body of a man. When arms wrap around my waist from behind, rendering me immobile, I freeze as I recognize the feel of the body behind me. Rex drops his head to my neck and sucks. That bastard marked me.

  For the first time in years, my body does not betray me. For the first time ever, I do not melt for Rex.

  He comes off my neck with a pop, making sure I know that one will last a few days. “Don’t be a bitch, Tessie,” he whispers in my ear.

  Whispering back to him, I maintain my resolve to keep things over between us. “Having standards for my body is not me being a bitch, Rex.” I jerk out of his grasp before he can try anything further.

  “Your loss,” he simply states as he walks away.

  I don’t bother to look over my shoulder as I can say, once and for all, I am completely over Drexel ‘Rex’ Crews.

  The rest of my shift finishes in a blur. After our encounter earlier, Rex stays away from me. He spends his evening in the dart area, letting Purple Pussy Pamela suck him off in front of everyone. The fucker just stared at me while holding her bobbing head. So much for me in the grand scheme of things. Am I any better than she is, though?

  Rumor has it she went to get a butterfly inked on her pussy, only she let an apprentice practice on her instead of the real artist. She left with her pussy lips being tattooed purple with orange polka dots. Oh yeah, Rex, let her wet your whistle.

  In the past, I would be on the verge of tears afte
r watching Rex getting sucked off or fucking someone. This is not the first night he has watched me work while getting off by someone else. Tonight, I am not hurt. No, I am angry.

  I am angry at him for being the piece of shit, motherfucker he is. I am angry at myself for ever letting him into my life. I am angry at fucking Aphrodite for being the bitch goddess of love who felt it necessary to tie me to this asshole. Karma, yeah, I am angry at her, too. What in the hell did I do to deserve this shit?

  “Night, Tessie. I’m outta here, girl,” Corinne calls out as she makes her way to the front door.

  “Night,” I holler back as I round the corner of the bar to head to the back office.

  After depositing the cash from tonight in the safe in Bob’s office, I head to the stockroom to do a quick inventory to leave a liquor order for the morning. Sighing, I realize this is the quietest part of my entire day today.

  The problem with being so damn short is not reaching the top shelf in this storeroom easily. I’m stretching to count when I drop my paper. This night is never ending.

  Bending over to pick up my dropped list, I am startled by a noise behind me. Standing up, I don’t have a chance to take in what is around me.

  Humph.

  Smack.

  Wetness trickles down my face, though the pain doesn’t register right away.

  Suddenly, I am no longer bending over to pick up my paper. Somehow, I am against the concrete wall of the back room. Everything is spinning. The uneven surface of the wall cuts into my cheek as someone holds my face in place. One large, calloused palm covers the left side of my face, pushing my right side farther into the grains of the cement block wall of this room, the little rocks digging into my skin, breaking through. His other hand holds my arms behind my back.

  My forehead is already bleeding from being slammed against the wall, the wetness continuing to come down. He twists his hand against my face, forcing me to open my mouth in a gasp. My teeth clamp down when he digs the heel of his hand into my jaw. Biting down on the inside of my cheek, my mouth now fills with the coppery taste of my own blood.

  Focus, Tessie, fucking focus. What the fuck just happened?

  Closing my eyes, I breathe in. He smells of whiskey, stale cigarettes, a mixture of old oil and gasoline, and sweat. He’s taller than me, but not as tall as Rex. Exhaling, I try to hold in my tears. Think, Tessie, think! Dammit, victims die because they lose their shit. Don’t lose your shit.

  He feels huge behind me, his weight pressing into me. I feel the design of a cut or vest over his t-shirt and his jeans against my bare legs. Surely, he is not a Hellion, please not one of them.

  He will not break me. He will not break me, I repeat in my head as he kicks my legs apart. I will not cry out, I remind myself as a whimper escapes.

  He presses his hips into my ass, and I feel his erection pushing against me. As his weight shifts, I feel his longish hair as it tickles my bare arm while he drags his tongue from my wrist up my arm.

  “Wouldn’t serve me earlier, bitch, but you’ll serve me now.”

  That voice. Who the fuck is he? I can’t place it.

  Inhale.

  Exhale.

  Survive.

  Inhale.

  Exhale.

  The whiskey engulfs my nose as he breathes over my face before licking my ear, making me shudder involuntarily. This can’t be happening. I try to kick back into his shin and make contact. He is relentless, however. His hold never loosens. He pulls at my hair, peeling my cheek from the wall before twisting my head to face it.

  Crack.

  My head slams back into the wall. Blood pours down into eyes from my forehead. The room spins, darkness tries to consume me. No. No. No. Hold on, Tessie. Hold the fuck on, I remind myself right before I go limp.

  Coming to, I am still against the wall with my arms twisted up behind my back at an awkward angle. If I move, I am certain I will dislocate my shoulder. His weight feels so heavy against me.

  He yanks my skirt up over my ass. Then there’s a swift tug and my panties are gone. He grinds against my ass as he licks my shoulder before his teeth sink in. I cry out, unable to hide my pain as I feel him bite down so hard he breaks my skin.

  “Please don’t do this,” I beg barely above a whisper.

  Calm down, Tessie, I try to give myself a pep talk.

  His forearm presses into my back as he pushes against me, forcing my tank top covered breasts to painfully press against the wall. Then a hand grazes up my inner thigh, his fingers reaching my folds.

  Dear God, please, can you find it in you to save me? I know I don’t deserve any mercy, but right now, I’m begging for someone, something to stop this. Anything but this. Please, God of all gods, don’t let him violate me.

  I send up my prayer silently as panic overtakes me. He is too big. I can’t fight back. Will he kill me when he’s done? If I die, who will raise Axel?

  Thoughts swirl through my mind as I try to clench my pussy tight as his finger finds its way inside my core. It hurts. I try to move my hips to get away from his touch while his tongue licks my ear as he pulls his finger out to slam two in me, my inner walls burning in pain at the assault. My body trembles uncontrollably in fear, pure adrenaline shooting through me as I lose control of my limbs.

  “Fight it, bitch,” his gravelly voice finally comes to the forefront of my mind. He was at the bar tonight, the one Corinne served. “You’re so tight. I’m gonna rip you apart.”

  When his thumb forces its way roughly into my ass, I feel the burn of my puckered skin ripping at his brutality and blood trickle down my inner thigh. My attempt at pulling away only pushes me farther into the wall, my cheek scratching yet again as blood clouds my vision.

  Twisting my head, I try to look at him. I can’t see him clearly, but I take in what I can. Through my blurred vision I can see his dark hair is slicked back at the roots, but falling at the ends. It is greasy, oily like he hasn’t washed it in days. He face is marred, acne scars dimpling it entirely, and there are strange scratches covering under his cheeks and down his chin. What’s his name again? Shit! I know him!

  His fingers leave my body. Then I feel him shift behind me to drop his pants. This isn’t happening. This cannot be happening to me.

  The head of his engorged penis is at my sensitive opening, the tip pressing its way inside as he pushes closer to me.

  The sight in front of me can’t possibly be real. The Devils Ghosts insignia is all I see at first. Dropping my gaze, I see Tessie’s legs spread out with him standing between them. Blood is running down her legs, and he has blood on his arm. My eyes make their way to her face where she is pinned to the wall and covered in blood. Neither of them notice my presence in the small room.

  The rage boils in me. Suddenly, all I can hear is her heavy breathing. Drawing my weapon, I don’t hesitate to fire. Pop. Pop. I put two bullets in the back of his legs.

  “FFFUUUUCKKK!!!” Shep cries out as he drops to the ground where he grabs at his legs, trying to stop the bleeding.

  Good luck, motherfucker; you’re gonna die. Whether you bleed out here in this room or my brothers drag you off and take their time carving you up, it doesn’t matter. Retribution will be for the Hellions.

  Rushing over, I don’t give a second thought to him as I scoop Tessie up and remove her from the room. She falls limply into my arms as shock almost certainly sets in. Her ass is bare because her skirt is bunched up around her waist, and her shirt is twisted. My instincts scream to assess her injuries, but there is so much blood I can’t see how bad the cuts are.

  “Stay with me, baby.”

  Rushing to her car, I put her in the passenger seat. She is trembling in fear as her body goes into shock.

  “It’s okay, baby. I’m gonna get you outta here.”

  “Shooter?” she questions, and I realize she can’t see through the blood covering her eyes.

  “Yeah, baby, it’s me. Hang on, okay. I gotta make a call. Then we’ll get you taken care of.”
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  She only nods as her body continues to shake.

  Removing my cut, I pull my shirt off and hand it to her to wipe her face. Knowing I shot the fucker in his knees, he’s not going anywhere. My inner caveman screams at me to go back in there and finish the bastard off, but I can’t do that in front of Tessie. She’s been through enough tonight. If I kill him and then she remembers later on… Well, I don’t know if that will be something more to haunt her. Blood on your hands, whether actually by your hands or not, still stays with you. Is she strong enough to carry that burden?

  She still hasn’t attempted to adjust her clothing. Does she not realize she is exposed? I don’t dare touch her to fix it, though. Did I get here in time? My mind races. Fuck, how bad is it?

  Making the call for back-up, my mind racing, I look over to see Tessie hasn’t moved. My shirt still sits in her open hands, her body still shivering uncontrollably.

  “Tripp, problem at Ruthless. Shep fucked up Tessie bad. I need Doll and a female doctor to my place Now! Get the boys to come handle Shep. I shot him, so we need clean up,” I quickly divulge.

  “On it. I’ll send a crew and meet you at your house with Doll and Rex.”

  “Not Rex. That fucker has played enough games with her. Where the hell is he tonight?”

  “Shooter,” Tripp chastises.

  “Not tonight, Tripp. Not fuckin’ tonight. She’s a mess. Let her make that call.”

  “All right, brother, on my way.”

  Claimed

  Ugh. Ouch. Everything hurts. Every centimeter of my body is in pain. Slowly, I start to stretch, attempting to open my eyes. They are tight, though; they won’t open. Panic fills me as I reach up and touch my face.

  Tentatively, I feel around to find my head wrapped in what feels like gauze and bandages on my left cheek. My mouth feels puffy, even on the inside. The taste of old blood mixes with my saliva as all my senses go into overdrive. My anxiety grows as my breathing becomes more erratic. Why does everything hurt?