Loner

by Janine Infante Bosco

  We drank in silence, topping off the bottle before he revealed his troubles to me. His charter was suffering and on the brink of destruction. Losing brothers left and right, they were sinking. One of the more recent attacks also found an innocent woman as the victim. Luckily, she didn’t lose her life or the life of her unborn child. Needing revenge and knowing they didn’t have the manpower to stay afloat, Wolf volunteered himself to find a bunch of nomads willing to settle down in Brooklyn. A tough task when everyone knows you’re on the balls of your ass and trying to pitch a suicide mission.

  Pushing my empty glass aside, I turn to him.

  “When do we leave?” I ask.

  “We’ll head out before the sun rises,” he replies, pausing a beat. “You sure this is what you want?”

  The only thing I’m sure of is the fact I don’t want to watch Kelly die.

  “I’ll turn my patch over to Sin before we leave,” I reply. “I already spoke with him.”

  I expected Sin to have more of a reaction to me leaving North Carolina but he didn’t even ask why. The only thing he wanted to know was what he should do about Kelly. I may never have claimed her but, he gave me the same respect as if I had.

  “What do I tell her when she asks where you are?”

  “You make her hate me.”

  “How the fuck do you expect me to do that after you’ve done nothing but love her since you met her?”

  “Tell her it was all a lie, that the only girl I ever cared about was Savannah. Tell her, I couldn’t possibly love her or else I would’ve claimed her to the club. You tell her whatever bullshit you need to and, you keep her fucking safe. You make sure she never ends up like Shady’s girl or so help me God, I will kill you and I will make it as painful and torturous as possible.”

  “Gonna ask you one more time, are you sure about this?” Wolf asks, pulling me back to the present.

  “I’m sure,” I reply. Pushing back my stool, the legs screech against the floor as I stand.

  Like a needle hits a scratch on a vinyl record, the song skips as I make my way down the hall to where Kelly waits in my bed. The same chord repeats over and over when I open the door and find her asleep on my bed. Crawling beside her, I brush my lips against her hair and take her into my arms. She doesn’t wake. The needle fights to push past the scratch but it’s too deep. The vinyl too fractured to continue.

  Morning comes and the music dies.

  Chapter Twenty

  Age: 24

  The cruel thing about memories is that they creep on you unexpectedly. A fiery burn spreads across your chest as the past you tried so hard to bury surfaces. Sometimes, the pain is as great as the day you first experienced it, in other cases it’s worse.

  Today is one of the days it’s the latter.

  There are no guaranteed wins in life and I’ve lost more times than I care to count. However, there is no use in complaining. In this world, you get what you get and that’s it. You can bitch about it, throw yourself a fucking pity party or you can change the game. Pick yourself off the floor and stand tall, remembering that every fall strengthens you.

  Sometimes our strength falters. The streak of luck we’re riding dies and when it does, you need to think quick. If you’re me, you straddle two wheels and get the fuck out of dodge. You ride it like you stole it and move onto the next big mistake. You drag your pipes to Brooklyn and hope your crazy bastard of an uncle doesn’t slam the door in your face when you show up unannounced on his doorstep because you got yourself into a jam.

  Showing up with two black eyes, I expected to catch some heat from my uncle. What I didn’t expect was coming face to face with the bastard who broke me. The son of a bitch who made me doubt everything I was and everything I felt.

  I didn’t expect Linc.

  And, I sure as fuck didn’t expect to find him in the condition he was in. Seeing him helplessly bound to a wheelchair, eyes as dull as the day I met him. It forced all my harbored resentment to dissolve. The walls preserved around my heart cracked, threatening to crumble as an onslaught of memories attacked me. Transported to a place in time where wild hearts couldn’t be broken. A time when two lost people learned to live again. A time when a lonely girl fell in love with a loner.

  Over the years, I’ve racked my mind trying to pinpoint exactly when things turned for us. When life paused and our perfect bubble burst. It’s taken me a long time but I finally realized we were doomed from the moment he became a patched member of the Satan’s Knights. Sharing Linc with the devil tore us apart. He went from only being mine to being everyone’s brother. The days of living for the moment passed us by as he morphed into a replica of his deceased father. In hindsight, I didn’t lose Linc to the club. No, I lost the man I loved to a ghost. A man he would never meet. A truth he never wanted to admit.

  Shaking my head, I struggle to forget as I lift the bottle of tequila sitting on the kitchen table and refill my glass. It would be just my luck that the day I decided to crash at my uncle’s house, also happened to be the same day Linc was discharged from the hospital. It didn’t surprise me that my uncle had thrown him a welcome home party. Nor did it surprise me when I learned Linc was staying with him.

  My uncle Al always had a soft spot for Linc. Since the moment he brought him into that clubhouse in North Carolina, I knew Linc was important to him for reasons no one would probably ever understand. As a father of three boys himself, my uncle took Linc under his wing and I knew despite my own heartbreak, his loyalty to his brother would never falter.

  Some might argue that his loyalty should’ve been towards me. After all, I was his blood but; I knew the code of brotherhood like I knew my name and to be fair, I don’t think Uncle Al knew the extent of our relationship. Like any young love, he figured it would pass but when you give your soul to another person that binds you forever.

  Even now, after all the hurt I’ve suffered, I can’t turn that off. That love burns deep. I can put on an act and pretend I don’t care, that I never cared. It’s what I do best. Fake a smile and throw down a few smart-ass comments, thinking no one will notice I’m a mess of broken pieces.

  Emptying my glass, I cringe as the liquid stings my throat and warms my belly. Voices carry from the room next door and though I know I shouldn’t eavesdrop, I can’t seem to help myself.

  “Are you comfortable?” My uncle asks him.

  In response, Linc growls something unintelligible.

  “Stryker picked up your pain meds. See that you only use them if needed. I don’t need another fucking addict on my hands. I swear to Christ, I’ll let your fucking ass decay on the floor before I scrape you up like I did your old man.”

  “I’ve got it under control,” he grunts. “Now, stop ignoring my question.”

  “What question might that be?”

  “She has two fucking black eyes,” Linc sneers. “My question is, what are you going to do about it?”

  Another time or place, butterflies would’ve fluttered in my belly. His concern would’ve dulled my loneliness and I would’ve asked him to console me. He would’ve loved all my pain away.

  We’ve drifted so far away from that time and my uncle’s response confirms it.

  “That ain’t none of your concern,” Uncle Al barks. “She’s not your problem anymore. Come to think of it, she never really was.”

  I wait with bated breath for Linc to reply, foolishly expecting to hear him correct my uncle in some fashion but, it doesn’t happen.

  “I’ll handle it,” my uncle says quietly. “Now, if there isn’t anything else you need…”

  “Should I call you if I have to take a piss?”

  “Fuck off, Linc,” he growls.

  The sound of footsteps nearing forces me to sit straighter in my chair and pour another shot. Staring at me as he enters the kitchen, Uncle Al shakes his head and mumbles a curse. Pulling out the chair across from me, he grabs a red Solo cup and the bottle of liquor. I watch him quietly as he pours himself a drink and takes a hefty g
ulp.

  Draining the cup, he reaches for the bottle again. This time he doesn’t bother with a cup and drinks it straight from the bottle.

  “Long day?” I question.

  Pinning me with his eyes, he lowers the bottle and leans forward.

  “You let someone use you as their personal punching bag,” he grits. It’s not a question but rather a statement, one that makes me feel like I failed myself. In a way, he’s right, I did. I let another man put his hands on me. Not willing to admit that, I glance away.

  “What happened to Linc?” I ask.

  “You show up on my stoop, lookin’ banged up like you do and you think I ain’t going to ask questions?”

  Apparently, it was his turn to ignore questions.

  “Who did this to you?” he asks. The tone of his voice softening, catching me off guard. “Let me find out Shady fucking put his hands on you,” he growls. “I’ve been itching to bury that motherfucker.”

  “It wasn’t Shady,” I answer, turning my eyes back to his. “And, there isn’t any need for you to worry. I took care of it.”

  Arching an eyebrow, he leans back in his chair.

  “That so?” he asks, reaching for the bottle again.

  “Yes,” I assure him. Threading my fingers through my hair, I match his stance and recline back.

  “Bullshit,” he fires back. “I have a right to know if one of my brothers roughed you up,” he hisses.

  “It wasn’t,” I say adamantly. “Look, I only came here to collect my bearings. Some place I could lie low. I promise you I’ll be on the road in a couple of days I just need to figure out my next step.”

  “Give me a name,” he growls. “Give me the motherfuckers name.”

  My lips curve into a sad smile.

  “Always lookin’ for trouble,” I comment.

  “Could say the same thing about you.”

  “Touché,” I say softly. A pregnant pause passes between us and my mind wanders back to Linc. “Is he paralyzed?” I ask, unable to help myself.

  He shakes his head.

  “It was touch and go for a while but, the doctors expect him to walk again.”

  “Will he be able to ride?”

  “Don’t know,” he says, taking another swig.

  The questions burn on my tongue, begging for answers. Seeming to know that, he leans forward and pierces me with a stern gaze.

  “People were hurt,” he starts. “Some even died. Our clubhouse was left in ruins. He survived,” he says, jutting his chin toward the next room. “Now, that’s all you get.”

  “I get it,” I whisper. “Club business and all that.”

  “Yeah,” he mutters. “You need a place to stay, you know you’re welcome here. You need me to lay a motherfucker in the dirt, I’ll do that too. What I won’t have is the two of you idiots adding any stress to my already full plate.”

  “You won’t even know I’m here,” I promise.

  “Fat chance,” he mumbles. Winking at me, he reaches across the table and takes my hand. Lifting it to his lips, he drops a kiss on my knuckles. “Hate seeing you look like a prize fighter.”

  “I’m okay.”

  Or, I will be.

  Sighing, I drop my hand and angle my head, taking in the noticeable weight he’s dropped and the dark circles under his eyes.

  “What about you? Are you okay?” I question.

  “I’m breathing, ain’t I?”

  I roll my eyes and he laughs before bracing his hands on the edge of the table. Rising to his full height, he points a finger at me.

  “You can stay in Nico’s room,” he says, offering his eldest son’s room. “Don’t forget what I said, Kelly, stay out of trouble and for crying out loud, listen to me when I tell you to stay away from Linc.”

  I want to tell him he doesn’t have to worry but, it would only be a wasted effort on my part because nothing I say will change his mind. As much as we tried, we did a shit job at hiding our relationship.

  Uncle Al knew.

  He saw it.

  He fucking lived it with us.

  And when it was over, after Linc walked away, my uncle walked too.

  They moved on.

  They forgot.

  But, not me. Never me. I’ll remember that place in time for as long as I live.

  Plastering a phony smile on my face, I lift my head and give him the answer he wants.

  “Linc who?”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  I’m not sure which is a worse hell. Having Wolf help me in and out of the shower every morning or, having my ex-girlfriend sleeping in the same house as me, knowing she’s got two black eyes and a shit ton of baggage weighing on her shoulders. I’m going to go with the latter seeing as Wolf purchased a chair that stays in the shower, giving me the freedom to wash without him standing over me. The guy thought of everything and has bent over backward to make me comfortable but, any conversation about his niece is off limits.

  Since she showed up two days ago, I’ve barely seen Kelly. A vigorous physical therapy plan was put in place for me before I left the hospital and the very next day, I began working on getting my ass out of this chair. Therapy kept me out of the house for a good portion of the day and when I returned home, she was nowhere to be found.

  For the last two nights, I’ve sat in my chair replaying the conversation between her and Wolf in my head.

  “Let me find out Shady fucking put his hands on you.”

  Waiting to hear the front door close, I picture that cocksucker moving in on what was mine. He fucking knew she was off limits. It didn’t matter that I was the one who walked away, as my brother that motherfucker shouldn’t have been quick to stick his dick where mine had already been.

  The door closes the same time every night and I listen as she climbs the steps. Staying in the room right below hers, I stare up at the ceiling as the floorboards creak with every step she takes. Like a creep, I picture her undressing for bed, wondering if she still sleeps in nothing but a t-shirt. And, every night after the sound of her footsteps dull, I sit in my chair and think about her. I think about us and what could’ve been if things had gone differently. The memory reel ends the same every night—with her two black eyes, Wolf’s words and the truth, that it’s all my fault. I gave her to that motherfucker by walking away.

  Glancing at my phone, I see a text from Stryker informing me something came up and he couldn’t take me to therapy. A second later the phone chimes again with another text saying someone would pick me up within the hour. With time to kill, I roll myself into the kitchen and come to a complete stop, spotting Kelly sitting at the table eating a bowl of Lucky Charms cereal.

  Good to know her choice of breakfast foods haven’t changed.

  The spoon pauses at her mouth as she peers back at me. The first thing I take notice of is the angry bruising around her eyes. Still swollen, the purple hues have faded some and turned green. She shoves the spoon into her mouth and I continue to stare as she ignores me and pretends to read the nutritional facts on the back of the box. The tension between us is so thick it’s suffocating and, I force my eyes away. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I roll myself over to the coffee pot and search for a mug. Finding one on the drainboard next to the sink, I reach for it but, it’s in the back hidden behind several dishes.

  Muttering a curse, I lean forward forgetting to put the brakes on my chair and nearly topple forward. My toes touch the ground and pain shoots up my bad leg. Grimacing, I grab the edge of the counter and use it as leverage to push myself further back in the chair. Too engrossed with the pain searing through my leg as I lift it into the footplate, I don’t notice Kelly move to my side. Lifting my eyes from my leg, I watch her reach for the mug and place it on the counter in front of me.

  “Could’ve saved yourself all that trouble if you would’ve just asked for help,” she says, turning her gaze to me. Slowly her eyes wander over my broken body, pitying me as a frown works her lips.

  “Don’t look at me like that
,” I growl, gripping the arms of my chair. Ignoring the pain, I clench my jaw and grit my teeth. I may be temporarily paralyzed or whatever the fuck they’re calling it these days but, I’m still a fucking man.

  I’m still the fucking man who used to love her.

  The man who pleasured her.

  The fucking man who lived every day waiting to please her. To watch her unravel and hold her as she slept.

  “My legs might not work but, my tongue is just fine. Why don’t you sit on my face and let me take you for a ride down memory lane,” I sneer. The moment the words leave my lips I regret them and not because they’re harsh or vulgar but because the mischievous look I was hungry to see, never comes. Instead of fighting fire with fire, she looks at me like I’m a stranger. Like those years when her thighs hugged the sides of my head never happened.

  “Such a sweet offer,” she mutters, turning around. “But, I’ll pass,” she continues, taking her bowl and spoon from the table. Walking next to me, she dumps them both in the sink before turning her cold eyes back to mine. “Turns out what you thought was great in your teen years isn’t all that spectacular in your twenties.”

  Her words don’t carry the heat they used to and, that realization pulls at something inside of me. She was broken when I met her. Lost and lonely but, a fighter nonetheless. Someone who never backed down, who always stood her ground and never gave up on what she wanted. The girl in front of me is going through the motions. Her words are like an automated response. A recording when all you want is a live voice.

  I want that live voice.

  That live wire.

  I want it sparking between us.

  I want to feel the energy crackle around me as the earth shakes.

  I want my ferocious Pinky.

  “That so?” I question, cocking an eyebrow. “Judging by the two black eyes your sporting I think it’s safe to say your twenties are lacking spectacular. Fuck, Pinky you—”

  “Don’t you dare,” she spats, advancing toward me. “You don’t get to call me that.”

  A temporary bout of satisfaction sweeps over me as a flicker of life sparks in her eyes.