It was ironic that I found sanctuary in the club, I know that. Especially considering the shit that went down all around us, but we benefited greatly from the combined experience of our varied pasts, our relationships with the local cops and even the other gangs, and somehow it worked. We didn’t keep our noses clean, but we were skilled enough to stay out of jail. We operated just enough under the radar that we managed to stay free.
Today was no exception. A deal was going down in an abandoned warehouse on the south side of town, and we had been asked to help with ensuring everything ran smoothly. I raced home to shower and change before I went to the club.
When I walked into my apartment, I was reminded of just how lonely and non-existent my life outside of the club was. I devoured a bowl of cereal, showered, dressed, and I was back on my bike in half an hour. I didn’t spend much time at home at all, not if I could help it. Being alone made my mind wander too much, and as they say, idle hands are the devil’s workshop.
I had had enough of the devil in my life.
Staying sober was still a struggle, even now, but I was determined not to fall back into the same destructive patterns that landed me behind bars all those years ago. As much as I tried to think of something else, as I rode through town on my way back to the clubhouse, the past swept over me in painful, regretful waves.
I was only thirteen, but I felt decades older at the time. I was young, stupid and reckless, but growing up with drunken, drugged up parents tended to force you to mature faster. And I had my younger sister, Ciara, to take care of, because nobody else would. In the end, I even failed at that.
I thought I was doing the right thing. My parents were miserable at feeding us, our refrigerator was barren once again, and I had had enough of listening to Ciara’s stomach growl. I had a few of my passed-out father’s beers for ‘courage’, I told myself. I drove our barely running Ford truck to the corner gas station. I was feeling so confident, so sure of myself, invincible, even. I even took the time to put the gas nozzle in the tank, and let it fill up while I went inside the store. Once I was in, I used my outstretched finger hiding in my coat pocket to pretend I had a gun. That was all I had to do to get the clerk to give me all the money in the till. I’ll never forget how violently his hands were shaking as I smirked at him while he handed me fistfuls of crumbled cash. I took the money and strolled out like I had the biggest cock on the block and all the time in the world.
The first shot ricocheted off the door frame, the loud ping echoing in my head. When I realized the clerk was shooting at me, I ran to the truck, jumped in, threw it into gear and peeled out of there in a whirlwind of burning rubber and loose cash flying out of my window. I was trying to catch it all. I was laughing. I was thinking about how awesome it was that I got away with it. I was imagining the look on Ciara’s face when I came home with some thick, juicy steaks.
And then, everything exploded behind me, and my life exploded right along with the gas station. When I drove away, I had forgotten that the gas nozzle was still in my tank. The cops figured the sparks from the gunshots ignited the spilled gas and everything went up in a huge ball of flames.
Miraculously, nobody died. But a bunch of people were burned and hit by flying debris. There were several witnesses and although I made it home, the cops were on my doorstep in hours.
I spent five years in Juvie, and when I turned eighteen, the prosecuting attorney decided he still had a hard-on for the poor boy from the wrong side of the tracks, and coupled with the fact that my nose was far from clean while I was locked up, I ended up continuing my sentence with the big boys.
Prison is a whole lot different than Juvie, and after a few years there, I realized it was time to stop fucking up. If I had been the model prisoner from the beginning, I would have been out after those first five years. But instead, because I was stubborn and stupid, it took me another five before I tasted freedom.
And, damn, did it taste good. My life was good now. I joined the club right away, after meeting Rusty in a run-down bar, ascended the ranks with heart and loyalty, and now I was the second in charge. Being the VP had its perks, but it was an intense job. The brotherhood made up for it all.
When I arrived at the Bastard’s clubhouse, I took a slow, grateful look around at my second home. Hell, it was really my first home. The apartment was just a place to sleep.
Low-slung, shiny black Harley’s were parked haphazardly around the lot, and several brothers were gathered around one in the back trying to figure out what was wrong with it. They waved and hollered in greeting and I shouted over to them.
“Hey buddies! Meeting in twenty minutes, okay?”
“You got it, Colt!”
I turned to walk into the clubhouse and my cell phone buzzed in my pocket. I didn’t recognize the number, but I answered anyway.
“Yeah?”
“Hey stranger,” a low, breathy voice rasped. “It’s Jett.”
“Jett!” I exclaimed, reeling with the memories that flooded my mind. Jett, Ciara’s best friend. Jett, my first crush. I hadn’t heard her voice since I went away fifteen years ago, and I never expected to hear it again, no matter how much I hoped our paths would cross again someday. I had thought about her every fucking day, and here she was.
“How the fuck are you, girl? Last I heard, you’d run off and become some crazy rockstar!”
“I’m bad, Colt. I’m real bad. I need your help.”
CHAPTER THREE
CRAZY JACK
She would be out soon. I would watch from my car, make sure she got on the bus okay, and then I would go home for a little while.
It was my job to make sure she was safe. It was my job to make sure she was clean.
She wasn’t clean.
Especially not after last night. She was just lost. I could save her, if only she would let me, if only I could get a little closer to her. If only she wasn’t afraid of me.
She had done so much for me, and she didn’t even know it. All those years they made me kill people in the Army, she was there with me, whispering in my ear, telling me she loved me, soothing me with her songs while I laid in my bunk and cried myself to sleep every night.
She was the only person I could talk to. The only one that listened.
Now that I didn’t have to kill people anymore, now that they finally sent me home, she was the only thing I wanted.
I would do anything to get close to her. I just needed to be patient, and eventually, she would be all mine.
The doorman opened the front door of the Four Seasons, and my heart began racing when I saw her emerge. I grabbed my binoculars, peering through them until I had her in my sight. I knew she had to have seen my note, but with the huge sunglasses she was wearing, I couldn’t see the look in her eyes like I had hoped. Her eyes were my favorite part of her body, and she constantly insisted upon covering them up, depriving me of my most treasured pleasure.
Quickly, she disappeared into her shiny red tour bus, and I sighed with deep disappointment as I placed the binoculars on top of the black leather jacket on the seat beside me.
CHAPTER FOUR
JETT
The bus was my only real home.
I spent so much time on the road, I didn’t bother to keep some big house in Los Angeles, or an apartment in New York. It always seemed wasteful to me. Why buy a huge home that was just going to sit there empty? Why pay gardeners and housekeepers and pool boys to take care of a place that I never had an opportunity to spend time at? It’s not like I had a family to provide a roof for. I was alone. Just like I always had been.
Alone, in a sea of people orbiting my every move.
Once, a few years ago, I had bought a secluded little cabin in the woods outside of Portland, in a tiny town called Rhododendron. By some miracle, I had found myself with a few days off, and decided I wanted to going skiing. I had never been, and I rented a cabin smack dab in the middle of the forest in the foothills of Mt. Hood. I spent one blissful weekend there, and after learni
ng the riverfront cabin was for sale, I bought it on a whim.
My big plan was to come back several times a year, get away from everyone, get away from my life, sit by the river and just unwind, spend some time in nature.
I hadn’t been back once.
It was pathetic. I was pathetic.
You’d think by now, I would have found a way to put my foot down, to tell my manager and the record label that I needed time off, but every time I complained about it, they just pressed harder. My protests were met with guilt trips about all the people we employed when we were on tour, the families that depended on us, and all the promotion that we were contracted to do for the new album. And the album after that. Which meant we would have to tour again to promote that one. And on and on.
It was an endless cycle, an endless circus, and I was the main attraction. And what did I attract? Greedy industry freaks. Crazies. Stalkers. Fanatics.
This latest stalker was the scariest of them all, and I had had my fair share. When I confronted Rex after I found the note in my room that morning, he had no explanation for me. He said I was all locked up in my room when he left for the night.
Unfortunately, I didn’t remember much at all, at least not after I had fallen asleep in a tangled mess with the other three. Rex said they had left before he did. So, what happened after Rex left for the night? How did the stalker get in my room? That’s what I wanted to know.
And nobody had an answer for me.
Not only was I furious, but I was terrified. I was, luckily, in one piece, and that was saying a lot. I wasn’t the safest person in the world, I knew this, but by the time I was done with my show for the night, and once I had a few drinks, the last thing I wanted was to spend the night alone in my hotel room. A girl needed a little company.
And besides, I thought that was what we were paying Rex for. Protection. But after last night, I was convinced I couldn’t depend on him.
So, yeah, I was terrified, and I was pissed. I was pissed at Rex. I was pissed at Seth, my manager. I was pissed at the record label. Nobody would listen to me. I was nothing but a commodity to them, someone to push up on a stage so the public would push their money to us in return.
For years, I had been complaining about my schedule. And for almost as long, I had been complaining about security. This Jack person had been sending me stuff for months now, somehow always finding me, no matter where I was staying. But this was the first time he had been in my room. All the other times it had been delivered.
I shuddered as I thought of how awful things could have turned out. He could have easily done a lot more than just tape a creepy fucking note on the door.
This morning, after I found it, the first thing I did was confront Rex. When I got nowhere with him, I called Seth. As usual, he was less concerned with my safety than the numbers from last night’s show. Sure, he made a perfunctory play at showing concern, but it was obvious he was dismissing the severity of the situation.
But me? I was fed up. I wasn’t about to let some crazy lunatic get near me without a fight. I knew I needed someone I could trust implicitly, and there was only one person in the whole world that came to mind.
Colton Joshua James.
As soon as I hung up the phone with Seth, I called Ciara.
I hadn’t talked to her in years, not since that time she showed up at the show in Vegas, telling security I was an old friend, and finagling her way backstage. We only had a few minutes to catch up, as I had to jump on the bus to get to the next show that was hours away.
She looked exactly as I remembered, she hadn’t aged a day. That’s one good thing you could say about the James family. They had good genes. She and her brother Colt had always been good-looking, despite the fact that they always looked hungry and were wearing ill-fitting clothes.
Things like that didn’t matter when you looked like that.
“How is Colt these days?” I asked, hesitantly. The last I heard he was still behind bars for making hands down the stupidest move out of any of our friends back then.
I was surprised to see Ciara’s eyes light up when I mentioned his name.
“Jett, he is amazing! You wouldn’t believe it. He’s sober, he’s out! He just got out, and he joined up with a motorcycle club. It’s hard to get a real job when you’ve got a record, you know? But these guys he’s riding with are good for him. They’re like a family. They all take care of each other. You wouldn’t recognize him. He’s a whole different person now.”
“Oh, yeah?” I replied. Colt and I had always had a connection. We were close. Almost closer than Ciara and I were. I was never the girly-girl like Ciara was back then. I related more to the boys, and Colt became one of my best friends.
We were just kids, hell, he was thirteen when he left, and I was twelve.
After the explosion, he went to jail right away, and that triggered an investigation into his parents. They took Ciara away and locked up their parents. And just like that, my two best friends were gone. It sucked.
“Well, you look great, Ciara,” I told her. And she did. It made me wonder what Colt looked like now. She gave me her number, and we promised to keep in touch. But I never called.
So, I wasn’t surprised when I heard the iciness in her voice when I called her this morning.
“Jett, what a surprise,” she murmured dryly. “It’s been a long time.”
“I know, Ciara, I’m sorry I haven’t called,” I said. “I’m constantly touring, my schedule is insane.”
“Oh, that’s alright, I understand.” Her voice told me she didn’t understand at all.
“I sure do miss you, though! I think I have another show coming up in Vegas soon, but I can’t remember the date. I’d love for you to be my guest, okay? Bring the family.” Ciara had moved to Vegas with her husband and two kids years ago.
“Oh, sure, sure…” she said, her voice trailing off.
“Ciara, I need to get in touch with Colt.”
“Colt?” she asked, her voice full of surprise.
“Yeah. I might have a job for him. I need some um…help.”
“Oh. That’s weird. Okay, well, hold on, and I’ll get his number. You know, Jett, he’s very busy with the club. He’s the VP now. I doubt he has time for you. Hold on a sec.”
The VP, huh? She gave me Colt’s number after a moment, and I thanked her, promising to get in touch about the show soon.
I called him right away. When I heard his voice, the past flooded through my head, and all those hours of sitting and talking in the bed of his parents’ pick up truck seemed like they had just happened yesterday.
I spilled everything. I told him about the grueling schedule, the lax security, and Crazy Jack, as I had taken to calling him. I told him about the note I found in my room, and I smiled in satisfaction as I heard him growl with anger.
“He was in your room?!” he asked, his deep voice booming through my cell phone.
“Yes.”
“You didn’t wake up? You didn’t hear anything?” he asked, incredulously.
“Um, well…I had a little bit to drink. So, I was sleeping a little more soundly than usual.” More like it was the only way I could get to sleep, I thought.
“Oh,” he replied, followed by a long pause.
“I, um…I hear you’re sober now. That’s great. Ciara told me. She said you’re in some biker gang now or something.”
“Motorcycle club. And yeah, I am. It’s not a big deal.”
“No? I guess. I can’t imagine not drinking, but you know…the stress of the road and all that.”
“Yeah, sure, I get it. So, Jett, why are you calling me? Why are you telling me all this?”
“Oh. Well, I have a proposition for you.”
It took a lot of convincing, but I think I sounded so desperate, the poor guy felt guilty after a while. When he finally told me he would fly out, I jumped for joy.
“Yes!” I said. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while, Colt. My management company will pay you v
ery well.”
“This is just a trial thing, Jett. I have a life here. I’ll come down, assess the situation, and see what I can do. Maybe I can find you some permanent, effective security.”
“Okay, Colt, thank you so much! I knew I could count on you.”
I figured I would wait till he got there to tell him that I would never trust anyone else but him.
“I’ll have my P.A., Sam, call you with the flight details. I can’t wait to see you, Colt!” I told him, before getting off the phone. Excitement raced through my veins, and I realized it was the first time I had been excited about anything in quite a while.
When I got on the bus, I told Sam to make all the arrangements, gave her Colt’s number, and closed myself off in my bunk as the swaying bus lulled me to sleep like it always did.
But this time was different. I was smiling.
CHAPTER FIVE
COLT
THREE DAYS LATER
Jett Ghianni!
Jett!
What a trip.
I never expected to hear from her, and I certainly never expected my cock to swell like it did as soon as the sound of her voice hit my ears. When I agreed to fly out, I did so without fully thinking it through. I was thinking with my heart, and my cock, letting the memory of her laughter override any good sense I had.
We were young, but that’s what made the memories so intense. I never touched her, outside of that one first kiss.
I didn’t have too many good feelings when I thought about my past before the explosion, but the ones that I did have almost always included the sound of Jett’s laughter. She was so easy to be around. She was my escape. The three of us were always together, and when I did get a few moments alone with her, away from Ciara’s incessant babbling, it was always easy and peaceful. I cherished those moments, and they were a big part of what got me through those nights when I was locked up.
RAW: THE ULTIMATE MC COLLECTION Page 94