Forever Ride

by Chelsea Camaron

  We ride back to the coast, and once we are home, I am invited into the cave where I take my oath to the code and get my patches. I look down at the cut that is now donning my new rockers and see my name patch.

  “Tank,” Roundman says with a smirk as he watches me find my club nickname. “Strong and keeps moving forward in the worst of situations. Boy, you came here in a bad place. You’ve worked hard, you’ve played hard. You’ve stood by your mistakes, taken your punishments, and grown into a man. You’ve respected the club, its members, and what we stand for. We’re all proud to call you a brother.”

  After congrats from all the members, I celebrate with my brothers. I eagerly enjoy the pussy the barflies drawn to my newfound status as a Hellion toss at me.

  The smell of antiseptic brings me out of my memory. I can hear movement near me. The mumbling reminds me I am in a hospital, I think. I don’t know why or what has happened. I can’t seem to wake up fully to ask questions, though. Sass is with me, this much I am sure of. I wish she would come closer so I could inhale the scent of her perfume.

  Fighting, I try to open my eyes. Nothing. I sense that she is gathering her things to leave. Where are my brothers now? Is someone looking out for her?

  She leans down, kissing my forehead again when something wet touches it. Is she crying?

  Her fingers are curled around my hand. Fighting through, I squeeze. Nothing. No, she needs my reassurance. Focusing, pushing past my fatigue, I try to squeeze again. I hear her gasp as she squeezes back. There is a beeping noise as a voice comes on asking if she needs assistance.

  I can’t hold on any further, sleep consumes me again as I vaguely hear a nurse say something about reflexes and that I didn’t really react. The hell I didn’t, but I have no strength to pull out. The blackness and void fill me as she once again escapes me.

  Chapter

  3

  Friendships

  ~Sass~

  When I arrive at work, I am unable to focus. My simple desk is in the front of the garage entry door. I have a couple of chairs for people waiting on oil changes, but not much in the way of things. The door behind me leads out to the bays, and due to OSHA regulations, no one outside of employees can enter the work area. The day to day monotony of my job used to make me smile; no real responsibility, just answering phones, picking up parts, keeping the books straight, and making sure the boys have what they need. It’s not rocket science; it’s a job. My passion for it is long gone, however.

  There was a time I loved coming to work, talking shop with the guys, and admiring the many bikes and cars that have rolled through these doors. Since the last big barbeque, everything has been different.

  I have given far too much of myself, not only my friendship with Tank, but I have put my heart on the line in hopes of a future with him. Why I ever let myself believe he could be committed to me, I don’t know. Years of hanging out as friends gave me the illusion there was something where there was actually nothing. After we hooked up, the ensuing fight and our trip, I’ve stuck to my words—no more Hellions.

  I don’t attend any of the parties, gatherings or anything outside of my job. Visiting Tank is the only real tie I have left to the club, other than my job. I don’t even go to dinner at my parents’ house anymore.

  I know Tank squeezed my hand earlier this morning, even though Jamie swears it was an involuntary reaction, not to take much stock in it.

  I wish he would wake up. He’s missing so much. Bull was killed in the warehouse, and his Aunt Marsha tried to put off the funeral in hopes of him coming around. When the doctors said it could take weeks, months, years, or he may never wake up, she proceeded with laying to rest the man who was the closest thing to a father Tank ever had.

  The bullets that Tank took were from him attempting to cover Bull, or so I’ve been told. After Tank was hit, he fell to the ground, holding Bull who had taken four shots to the chest. Bull bled out under Tank in the warehouse.

  “Earth to Sass,” Amy’s voice jars me out of my musings.

  “Sorry, what were you saying?”

  “Frisco says the client with the Shay rebuild will be calling today and to have you add an extra week to the timeline; the custom exhaust needs to be re-fabricated.”

  “Oh, okay,” I reply, still staring blankly at my computer screen.

  “You wanna talk about it?” she asks with genuine care and concern.

  Amy has been around more and more since the warehouse incident. From the bits and pieces I have heard, she actually helped save Tank. Amy was literally pushed into our lives by Felix Delatorre. She was supposed to be another pawn in his game, a piece to his grand plan to use Doll and me for leverage to control the club. Only Amy couldn’t do it. She took a beating, more than one, I’m sure, all to try to help a club she knew nothing about. After everything, she didn’t want to go back to St. Louis, but didn’t know what to do with herself. The boys said she came to their aid when shit hit the fan on top of already taking the abuse handed to her by Delatorre. She has been loyal to a club that she wasn’t even a part of. She knew they didn’t deserve what Delatorre was trying to do and backed them up.

  In over her head, she dealt with her circumstances as best as she could, and now Frisco has taken her in. She stays in his room in the duplexes on the compound and comes to work with him. When he is in a bay working, she is in here helping me. Apparently, she has panic attacks. The simplest of things triggers them easily, and Frisco calms her down, so she stays close to his side.

  “Having a bad day, that’s all.” I force a smile.

  “You don’t have to be strong all the time, Sass. I know that’s what the club taught you, but you really can let it go sometimes.”

  The sincerity of her voice pulls at my already emotional state. “I miss him,” I whisper as a tear falls down my face.

  “Oh, sweetie, I know you do.” She wraps her arms around my shoulders while I let it all out.

  “It’s not just him. Doll is gone. Life as I know it no longer exists. Yes, some of it’s by my own choices, but change is hard to go through.”

  “Yes, it is and the fear of the unknown always drives your insecurities and anxieties.”

  She quietly listens as I pour out my soul about everything I feel. I can’t help wondering if she calmed Tank as he lay bleeding on the floor from his wounds. Thinking of someone else comforting him pulls at me, yet what does it matter anymore? He is most likely not going to wake up. Hope slowly slips away with each passing day.

  When the office phone rings, I gather my resolve and put my walls back up as Amy answers the call. She goes through idle chitchat with Doll before handing me the phone.

  “Hey, Doll, how’s it going?” I answer, knowing my best friend will hear my tone and know something is bothering me. She may be five hours away having her life with Tripp, however it doesn’t stop her from staying in touch with me.

  “Well, it would be better if you would answer your damn cell phone. You went and got yourself a man in a suit and forgot about the ones you’ve left behind.” She is joking, but deep inside, it pulls at me. I haven’t been the best of friends or best of company.

  “I’m sorry. It’s not like that. I’ve been busy with visiting Tank, working, and yes, Nick. You know I love you, babe.”

  “Do you love me enough to tear yourself away from that suit and go on a little girl trip?” Listening, I can hear the amusement in her voice. She is up to something.

  “Where is Tripp? More importantly, where the hell are we going? The last trip we went on isn’t one I’d like to repeat in this lifetime.” I add the last part with somberness in my tone that I couldn’t hide even if I tried.

  “Does that mean you’re not gonna go with me?” I know she’s making a pouty face over the phone.

  Sighing, she knows I won’t deny her. “What are we getting into, Doll?”

  “Tripp is on the road for two weeks, so get your ass here so we can go to Tennessee. We’re going to Jared’s and not for jewelry, eit
her. Come on, you know you want new ink, too!” Her last line comes out in an almost whine.

  “Delilah Reklinger, you are above whining. You know I’m there, bitch. Now, what are you getting done? Another damn bird?” All of Doll’s tats are birds. She claims it brings her peace, comfort and tranquility. I have one bird, the robin both of us have inked on our wrists.

  “I’m getting ‘the one.’ You know, the one Jared wouldn’t give me before. With the wedding right around the corner and Tripp gone, it’s the perfect time to get the tat done so it can heal before he’s home.”

  “I’ll get my shit sorted and be there tomorrow or Thursday.”

  “Yes! You’re the best. Hopefully, this time I’ll get my ink.”

  We both laugh, thinking back to Doll’s vision for her next bird; an eagle with an outstretched talon holding a heart. When we were forced to take the ride with Tripp and Rex, we stopped at a tattoo shop for a night of rest. Doll wanted to get the ink done there, but Jared—the tattoo artist, shop owner and friend of Tripp—stopped her. We soon found out Tripp’s full name of Talon Ward Crews, not his road name of Tripp, and that he bore that very same tattoo with the addition of a shield. Well, here we are and that man certainly carries my best friend’s heart in his talons, so the tat is fitting.

  “Call me when you get on the road. Can’t wait to see you, Sass. Love you!”

  “Love you and will do, Doll.”

  I hang up the phone and see Amy is smiling at me. “I think it will do you some good to get away, and Frisco will help me cover things here for you. Go on, get packed, and go have time with your friend.”

  “Thanks, Amy. For listening, for letting me get it all out, and for covering for me to get away.”

  ~Tank~

  “This hospital room and the shop are all the ties Sass wants left. Man, it kills me that my own damn daughter has turned her back on the club. All she cares about related to the Hellions is Tank and her job.” As I vaguely decipher Danza’s whisper, the mention of her name pulls at me.

  “Doll is getting her to go away for a few days. Maybe that will help, brother. I can’t imagine the shit-storm this is at home.” That is Roundman’s voice I discern. My club Prez and VP are here today, apparently.

  “Her mother misses her. Hell, I miss the spitfire that I fuckin’ raised to be a damn part of the life. I know this shit runs deep and she’s scared, but the club can keep her safe, not that bastard in the suit. My reaction to her and Tank didn’t help; I see that now... We never thought of our girls being anything other than a Hellion without the cut, of course, but without being with one of the brothers, either. I just thought they would always be around. You know, though, I’d rather her be with a brother than the fucker she’s with. Something about him rubs me wrong.”

  “Give her time, man. She’ll sort her shit. If Tank would wake the fuck up, she’d come around a whole lot quicker. So much is passing by and he’s just sleeping. Fuck.” The frustration is evident in Roundman’s stern voice.

  I fight to stay with their conversation while memories flood in, pushing me into the depths of sleep once again.

  Sass and Doll were always around. Obnoxious, awkward, teenage, giggling girls that could be found somewhere on the compound. Those two were always asking for trouble.

  When they left for college in Charlotte, I didn’t see much of either of them. Occasionally, I would be in Charlotte to help Tripp on a transport, but I never ran into the two college girls. We had Hellions’ eyes on them, so it wasn’t my place to check up on her. Until Sass came back to Haywood’s Landing after her graduation, she wasn’t even on my radar.

  Then she started working at the shop, wearing tight as sin jeans, spike heeled boots, and those tight cut Harley Davidson women’s t-shirts that showed off her curves. Danza’s baby girl wasn’t a baby anymore; no, she was all woman. The fire she could ignite with the sway of her hips matched the color of her hair. Whether it was black with a red chunk, red with black, or red with pink, she always had red in her hair.

  Keeping my mind on the fact that she was Danza’s daughter wasn’t always easy, especially when she would catch me staring and wink at me. A man only has so much self-control against a minx like her. She knew she was a hellcat and ate it up, too.

  What she didn’t seem to understand was giving into the temptation that was all her would be signing my own death certificate. Sass and Doll walked around like they knew they were teasing each and every dick on the compound. Their confidence that we all had to keep ourselves under control encouraged them to push the limits with anyone they could. Some days, I swear they lived for the challenge to break one of us.

  Never one to back away from the challenge, I remember pushing her further to see how far she was willing to go with this little game she was playing. Only, she wasn’t really playing a game when it came to me, and I was too stupid to realize it until it was too late.

  Before either of us truly grasped what we had built, it was all ripped apart. We spent two years after her return from college building on more than flirtation and attraction and during that time days in the office would begin much the same.

  “Good morning, Tank,” she calls into the garage’s bays.

  “Good morning, Button.” I wink as she always shakes her head at my pet name.

  One day, at lunch, she calls me out on it. “Tank, what’s with the name Button?”

  “You’re always pushing buttons.”

  She pokes me as she smiles, her eyes dancing in flirtation. “Do I push your buttons?”

  Leaning over, I whisper as I let my breath tickle her neck. “Baby, you could push the buttons on a dead man and bring him back to life. You push my buttons and stir my dick to life, but reality is, you couldn’t handle what I would give you. So, give it your best shot, Button. I won’t crack under the pressure.”

  If only those words were true. I did crack under the pressure. She gave it her best shot and she won. Only, I never got the chance to tell her. Truth is, I couldn’t handle what she gave me. Her body was fire under me, burning into my very soul. No woman has ever gotten to me like she does.

  Her sassy mouth is one I can’t get enough of, both on my dick and in her banter. The one night I allow myself to give in to the temptations, she comes alive and sparks something inside of me I’ve never felt before. Something I doubt I’ll ever be capable to feel with anyone else again.

  The barbeque was much like the many others we have had. Danza saw the girls flirting and called them to the kitchen. He is always keeping them locked down as much as possible.

  Yeah, I’d had a few too many drinks as I stumbled my way over to her. Doll and their friend, Caroline, are with her, but both are ready to head out for the night. Sass has other intentions, however.

  Drunk or not, I know damn well what I am doing. She has become too much to resist.

  Leaning against the kitchen counter, I watch her as she finishes putting the food away with her friends. She brushes up against me, the curves of her ass lining up perfectly with my dick.

  Reaching out, I grab her waist and pull her up against me as she giggles. I bury my head in her neck, inhaling the fruity scent of her shampoo. “You smell good, Button.”

  She shudders beneath me. Turning in my arms, her breasts rub up against me. When she comes up, nipping at my gauged earlobe, my dick is immediately brought to life and snaps me out of my drunken fog.

  “You smell drunk, Tank.”

  Bringing my hand down from the small of her back, I squeeze her ass as I lick the crook of her neck. “Drunk on you, Button. Always on you.”

  She’s breathing heavily against me as I watch the pebbles of her hardened nipples through her shirt get firmer. She can fight it all she wants, yet her body can’t hide just how much she wants me.

  Boldly, she reaches her hand between us and cups my erection, rubbing me through my jeans. “What do you plan on doin’ about this problem you have here, Tank?”

  “Oh, baby, my dick is far from a problem
.”

  “You know a barfly can’t give you what you really want. Why don’t you let me handle this for you?” She swipes her tongue over my lip ring.

  “Button, you’re playin’ with fire.”

  “No, baby, I’m not playin’ with fire.” She swipes her tongue over my bottom lip now, using it to flick the hoop of my lip ring. “I. Am. The. Fire.” She then sucks on my bottom lip, rolling my piercing with her tongue. “I’m the blaze you can’t tame.”

  The more I think of her, my chest tightens painfully. That night, she proved the saying Red in the head, fire in the bed. She ignited a flame between us I can’t put out.

  Lightening quick, sharp jabs roll through my chest and down my arm as the memories fade and reality comes ringing through my ears.

  I want to lash out. I want to scream, yell and punch something. The harder I push to wake up, the louder that beeping noise seems to cry out from the machine beside me.

  I sense commotion around me as I hear the beep, beep, beep, beep, bbbbeeeepppp of the machine. The nurse is yelling code blue; I hear her as I fade into the darkness.

  No blue, I need red. The red of my Sass. I fuckin’ need her. The last words I hear are: “flat lined” and “unresponsive. Bring crash cart STAT!” before I can’t fight anymore.

  Chapter

  4

  Bitter Stings

  ~Sass~

  The steady beeping of the monitor reminds me he’s back with us. Well, as much as he can be. Tank is still in the coma. We won’t know what caused his cardiac arrest earlier until the tests come back. Even then, they may not have real results. So much can’t be explained. He should’ve woken up long before now and he hasn’t. The doctors say it’s up to him to wake up.

  Emotions overwhelm me. I dropped everything to come here as soon as my dad called. I can’t live my life tied to Tank like this. He may not wake up, and if he does, he may not be the same man he once was.

  Since they put him back in intensive care, visiting is limited. Kissing his forehead before I leave, I take in the almost lifeless body of the man who used to be built like a tank and carried himself with that fearlessness of being cloaked in armor. That man is no more.