by A. C. Bextor
Once…
Twice…
Finally, he stops, seating himself as far as he can go. Elevent violently trembles through his release.
My God.
Elevent was right to assume as he had. All of this—all of me—was meant for him.
“I don’t have a dog in this hunt, El,” Jesse Bynes claims, standing with his back against the large oak tree outside the gate of his club. When he releases another breath, smoke from his cigarette billows against the night air.
Taking a proffered meet with Dark Arrows was a risk. I knew, so did Advay and Leglas. But we also knew we’d be fools not to accept. If for no other reason than we’d be marked as cowards if we didn’t.
Bynes insisted our clubs talk, discuss what’s been muddling the air between us the last few years.
Bynes is a big guy, but he’s old. Older than any president of any club I’ve known. His body looks tired, his hair all but gone, his gut all but bursting. His disposition is jaded. He doesn’t give a shit about much. Nothing in his life has any more value than it ever did.
“Steel Toe was fucked more ways than one, on the inside. Shit like that changes a man. Doubt he’d do anything to get him another stint inside,” he says, regarding Cricket’s old man.
“And what about Tyrant? You think Tyrant would do his bidding?”
“Can’t say,” Bynes claims. “But other than doin’ harm to himself, he’s never been about hurtin’ others.”
Bynes’s casual tone puts me on edge. The sense of entrapment follows. I don’t like this. Neither does Advay if the clench at his jaw is a tell.
“You the one who bloodied Tyrant’s hand?” Bynes questions, pointing his cigarette accusingly at Leglas.
Leglas shrugs. “Needed intel on your club. Collected that intel the most effective way I could think of.”
In the dim light of the cigarette held in his lips, Bynes’s smile is cruel.
“You’re tellin’ us we’re good,” I assert, anxious to move the fuck on. “And as far as you know, Cricket stays safe with us.”
“Far as I know, she will.” He shrugs, again casual—too casual. “I won’t make any promises, Elevent. If that’s what you came here for, you’ve wasted my time and yours.”
“I’m gettin’ the feelin’ you aren’t sharin’ all you know,” I test.
“Bad men do bad things all the time.” Lifting his chin toward where I stand, he counters, “You, of anyone, know that.”
The sounds of bikes roll from a nearing distance. We’ve got company.
Keeping calm, Leglas swings his gaze to mine and pushes, “We on the road, El?”
Granted we have permission to be here, and at Bynes’s invitation, but gut check tells me this isn’t what it was supposed to be.
There’s no tone of peace in his words.
No promise in what he says.
We’re no better off than we were before.
And fuck, but we can’t be here much longer.
“We’re on the road,” I confirm.
“One other thing,” Bynes calls as both Leglas and I turn back. Advay continues his way to his bike.
“What’s that?” I ask.
Bynes smiles again, this time not casual, but sinister. “Seems we have a new guy on the block.”
“What the fuck?” Leglas clips.
“Toby Meyer. Because of you all, sounds like he and Roberts have formed some kind of fucked-up kinship.”
Christ. Fuck. Damn it.
“You’re fuckin’ kiddin’,” Leglas hisses.
Bynes laughs. “Not even close. And sayin’, Meyer is set on payback. You’re in his debt.”
Leglas growls low and turns to me. His expression is malevolent.
“Stand down,” I tell him quietly.
With exact intention, Bynes tosses his smoke to the ground and threatens, “Would watch my back if I were either ‘a you. The devil and his son are coming. One’s after his girl.” He points, waiting for my eyes to finish. Once he’s got me, he says, “The other—your Angel.”
Fuck.
As Leglas and I make our way to our bikes, a line of them roll up as the large silver gate to the clubhouse opens. A few men look our way. Some give a finger wave. Some salute. The others give off a concentrated stare.
With Leglas, Advay, and I in our cuts, Bynes walking away alive and kicking, we should be safe. But taking no chances, I grab my helmet, and saddle my bike as the others do the same.
Fuck, the tank of sharks is getting crowded.
“Holy shit!” Sunny shrieks, swinging the door open without knocking. Eyes wide, her body rocks back on its heels, as the door slams the wall at the side.
“Um, Sunny?” I prompt, wishing she’d say more and do it fast.
Her mouth is open as her eyes peruse my frame, up and down. Her face lights up and she breathes, “Oh, honey, look at you!”
Turning back to the mirror above the small dresser, I shake my head and Sunny enters with a gleaming smile. Clearly, she’s proud of herself, along with the others.
My hair is down, scattered in long layers at my back. My makeup is dark…I mean, ‘smoky’, as Cricket called it. My lips, naturally pink, are painted a deep dark red. The color works well with my complexion, adding contrast to my dark blue eyes. The choker around my neck elongates it.
When I woke up this morning, Elevent was gone. There was a note by the bed, explaining he had ‘shit to do’ and instructing me to sleep. I couldn’t. My body was sore, but my mind refused to rest.
Elevent is so sure I’m where I’m supposed to be. As these weeks are turning into months, I’m starting to believe this too.
“You’ve got more cleavage than I do,” Sunny points out, coming to my side and staring at my reflection. “You also have a nice ass. Couldn’t really see it in the dressing room with all the girls.”
Quickly, I turn and start heading toward the bathroom to change. I hate feeling ridiculous.
“No-no-no, you don’t,” Sunny charges, grabbing my arm before it’s out of reach. “Honey, you’re gorgeous.”
“Thanks, I guess,” I utter, turning around to get another look at the leather pants Cricket insisted I get. They’re tight, perfectly fitting the curve of my ass.
Sunny looks down, next taking in the boots. They’re heavy when I walk, and at first I wasn’t sure I could walk, but I get why those here wear them.
“Elevent’s gonna shit. Ziah may cry,” Sunny claims.
A gasp comes from the open door of my room. Cricket stands, her fingers on the handle, shaking her head.
“Oh, my,” she utters, clapping her hands in front of her face. “Fairy princess to biker in a matter of weeks!”
“Hi,” I manage, swallowing hard.
When Vante rounds the door next, I realize this all could’ve been a huge mistake.
A bad idea.
Epic fail.
His usually kind eyes grow hooded and lazy. They change in a way that adds flutters to my turned stomach. His hand comes to his mouth, where it removes a battered toothpick. He holds it out in the air, but says nothing. Only stares.
“Well?” Sunny voices. “Vante, you’re a hot guy. What do you think?”
Vante’s lip turns up at the sides. His gaze holds mine incredulously as he says, “I’d say, if she weren’t El’s already, I’d be doing all I could to get into what’s under all that.”
Um. What?
“Yes!” Cricket exclaims then giggles, turning only her head to look up at Vante behind her back. “Finally! Someone agrees!”
“Agree so much I can’t believe we’re talking about it,” Sunny puts in at my side, running her fingers through the bottom of my hair.
Swatting her hand away, I take a motorcycle booted step toward Cricket.
She holds true to her knowing grin when I ask, “What are you talking about?”
“Let it go, Mia,” Vante bids. “We’re just flippin’ you shit. You look good. Little small for my liking, but you look good.”
<
br /> Looking down again, for the thousandth time, thinking how insanely ridiculous it is that I feel comfortable, I shake my head and slap my forehead.
“What in the world am I doing?” I ask no one.
When Cricket’s arm slides over my shoulders, I relax into her.
“You’re going to your very first club party this weekend, Mia. And you’re going to love it!”
“And if I don’t?”
Vante moves from the door, allowing Cricket and I to move through it, with Sunny on our tail.
“If you don’t have fun out there, Mia, I’ll personally see you back to your room.”
I gulp. Shortly after, I rethink what the hell I’m doing.
“And we can have a whole different kind of fun in there,” he finishes with an overzealous, crass, but playful, smile.
Damn the adorable and sweet man.
“Jesus Christ, Elevent. Hem mentioned your boys could get rowdy.” Gunner stands at my right, taking in the circus as I do. “I’m guessin’ maybe my president has no fuckin’ idea just how rowdy you people get.”
Gunner and a few prospects from Peril arrived early this afternoon. They looked road ridden and dog-tired. I asked Pyke to show them to their rooms, letting them know dinner for all would be held outside this evening.
I hadn’t expected the after-party to turn to this.
He and I are standing outside the back door to the club, watching the crowd of shadows drinking, talking, and doing exactly as he mentioned—getting rowdy. A few heated discussions had started, but with my presence and that of the some of the other seasoned members, they’ve toned down.
“Been a long year,” I explain, as I had to Shame and Hem. “New faces on the grounds have put the guys on edge.”
“Makes sense,” he notes looking around. “Shame mentioned you’re lookin’ to take more brothers.”
Gunner’s not a leading member of Peril, but he’s been there for years and he’s smart to the ways of how clubs run. He’s also well-respected. I was good with it being him who came to help. He’ll be able to talk to some of the brothers, show them what he knows and take in their concerns.
“Shame explained what’s goin’ on. I know it’s not my place, but if you need anything other than our patches present, we’ll be glad to help. The others will agree.”
“Appreciated,” I return, hoping to fuck we don’t need anything more.
“That said, I have a woman at home and she’s never loved me being away, so whatever you gotta do, I’d appreciate if we do it fast.”
I lose what he says when Cricket sets foot outside. She’s kitted up as she always is—hair too high, makeup too dark.
Vante steps out with Sunny at his side.
When the crowd parts and Mia comes to view, my lungs seize and my hands tighten.
Mia isn’t in a dress. She’s not wearing riding gear. Either of those would be better than this. At least in front of the audience we have.
Her long legs, thighs, and ass are wrapped in leather. She’s wearing a bright pink Saint’s tank, the material clinging to her chest and wrapping tightly around her midriff. There’s a sliver of skin revealing her stomach between the shirt and a large silver buckle.
And she’s wearing motorcycle boots.
Fuck me, but I’ve never wanted to fuck a woman this hard—in front of witnesses or not.
Christ.
Having no clue to my carnal thoughts, Gunner states, “Bikers still make my wife nervous.”
“You’re married?” I ask, still taming my urge to take Mia back to my room.
Gunner laughs. I missed something. But he replies, “Yeah, she’s the shit.”
“That’s good, Gun. Glad you have that.”
“Thanks.” He smiles at the black, old band on his hand and tells me, “She’s a third grade teacher.”
“Christ,” I spit, but ask, “Married to you and she’s still teaching?”
“Yeah,” he replies. “She loves the kids. Enjoys teachin’ ‘em.”
“Got any of your own?”
“Not yet, but if we can move this along, I’d like the time alone with her to try.”
“Hope that works out,” I return, slapping his shoulder.
The intensity of the air shifts and we turn our heads. Gypsy and Leglas are standing in the center of the yard, chest-to-chest, toe to toe. Members, their women, and the few guests step away to make room.
Leglas’ chest slams into Gypsy’s. He returns by shoving Leglas’ shoulders hard enough to force him to take a step back.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Cricket standing next to Mia.
Mia’s eyes are wide. Her lips tight. Her jaw clenching.
Cricket’s holding onto her, ready to break in a fit full of tears.
Gunner follows my gaze. “El, isn’t that—”
“Yeah, it is,” I clip. “My fuckin’ VP.”
“And that’s—”
“Gypsy,” I rash out through a clenched jaw.
These fucking bastards just do not ever stop.
The smile in Gunner’s voice is as obvious as it is knowing. “Gotta feelin’ these two have done this before.”
“Yeah,” I seethe. “They have. Plenty.”
Fuck all, I’m sick of it.
“They look like they’re about to tear each other apart,” he observes. “You intend to do anything about it?”
I take a step forward, all but rolling my eyes at men acting like kids on a playground. Gunner follows at my heel.
“Shit,” he spits, passing me on his way to the crowd. “Girls are too close.”
As I make my way through the crush of people, Angel’s arm is shoving its way between the men, and she’s screaming for Leglas to back off.
Leglas glares down at her, his breathing hard, his patience visibly waning.
“Shit!” I call at the same time Leglas’ fist rears back, aimed at Gypsy’s face.
Mia takes another step between them, screaming in vain and holding her hands to Gypsy’s chest.
Her body takes the blow, dropping her to the ground before I’m able to call her name.
Lying on my back in my brightly lit room, I’m fighting the urge to cry. And I’m losing.
My vision is blurry as the unshed tears are threatening to fall.
One hour, two aspirin, and three panic attacks have passed, yet I’m still no better off. Physically and emotionally, the pain from what happened tonight is excruciating.
How men can fight with fists that pack such power, and still remain standing, is beyond me. Especially men like those here.
In all my life, I’ve never witnessed such a savage, gruesome scene.
In their moment, Leglas and Gypsy were not men who shared the bonds of brotherhood. They were animals seeking to tear each other apart, limb by limb, bone by bone. The sounds of flesh pounding against one another, their heavy breathing, the groans, growls, and grunts…
Horrific to say the least.
And the bystanders who stood in a circle around them? What in the world were they thinking? Some stood watching in silence, while others encouraged the two to finish whatever had started. None of this made sense to me.
Not one bit.
“El’s gonna flip his shit,” Sunny complains, coming to sit on the bed at my side, while holding a fresh pack of bagged ice. I avoid looking directly at her, but in partial view her head shakes. As she reaches over to exchange the pack, taking the used one away, she hisses, “Fucking Leglas. He’s always been a rat bastard.”
The lessons I learned tonight were tough in coming, but nevertheless will never be forgotten.
Fuck you, brother. She’s in my bed. I’ll fuck her dirty, ‘cause she likes it dirty, Leglas had rallied.
The first lesson comes with no surprise. This being that Leglas is not only a rat bastard, as Sunny called him, but he’s also an asshole. He’s not an intentional asshole, either. No, he’s the worst kind. Leglas is an asshole by nature. God made him the unfeeling and unapolog
etic sort. He is who he is and doesn’t care what others think or feel. He lives by his own code, justifying himself to no one.
Months ago, had you described a man like him to me, I may have felt him envy worthy. To have that kind of confidence. To know what you want and move after it, consequences be damned. But after coming here, seeing how he is, how he doesn’t care, I was a fool to have ever believed otherwise.
She’s not one of your fuckin’ whores! Gypsy had bellowed to Leglas in return.
Second lesson I learned tonight: love does crazy things to a person. No matter his size in frame or his level of control. The heart of a man can be twisted by the taste of a good woman.
And Gypsy is no doubt, one-hundred-percent ravenous for a taste of Cricket. He’s so head over heels in love with her that they’re brief time together has ruined him for all others. This is why he doesn’t sleep with club women. And why, most times, he holds himself at such a carefully considered distance.
Get her the fuck outta here, Elevent had roared in my direction after I’d regained my composure.
The third lesson was that Sunny is right. Elevent is indeed going to ‘flip his shit.’ I crossed a line in stepping between the brothers as I did. With good intentions or not, I had no business standing my ground in the middle of two very large and very pissed-off men. One man fighting for the honor of the woman he refuses to acknowledge he loves, the other fighting to keep her in his bed for his own selfish reason.
“I’m an idiot,” I whisper to no one, closing my eyes and running my free hand through the top of my long hair.
When Cricket and I stepped outside with Vante and Sunny trailing not far behind, I was taken aback. Men were standing around, some with women hanging on their arms, some talking to other men in cuts, some in street clothes. Not all the faces in the crowd were unfamiliar, as I’ve come to know those here. Not to mention, I’d known what tonight’s gathering was about because Sunny had explained. I just hadn’t expected how many were already gathered.
“You’ll be lucky if Elevent doesn’t spank your ass for this,” Sunny goes on, grabbing my arm and helping me up to sit. The room spins and another wave of throbbing comes. She ignores my wooziness and notes, “And not the good kind of ass spanking either.”