by Nicole Fox
“Seriously though … Um. Thank you. For all that you’re doing for me.”
“I don’t think I’ve actually done anything at the moment.”
“Well, you saved me, then you vouched for me. And on top of whatever you need to sort out with your club, you’re willing to keep me out of trouble. That’s a lot to do for someone who’s a glorified stranger, really.”
“Well,” he said. “Maybe after all this you won’t be a stranger anymore and it won’t be so weird to you that someone’s doing something like this for you, eh? Also—you don’t have to keep thanking me, you know. We’ll eventually get this sorted, part ways. Whole nine years coming full circle kind of shit. Don’t sweat it.”
I laughed. “Okay, okay. I get it. And—yeah. That would be nice.”
Wheeler pressed a kiss to my head, and for the life of me, I didn’t know why, but it just made me feel good inside. Like that giddy feeling that you get when someone you like looks your way while you’ve been staring at them and daydreaming about them.
But that was honestly really, really silly. I laughed at myself.
God, Ember, you’re starting to sound way too smitten for your own good …
I woke up before Wheeler again—I was beginning to realize that he was a late sleeper through and through and found that kind of cute, to be honest. It didn’t do the bad-boy biker persona much good, but it did … do Wheeler as a person some good.
God, stop staring, weirdo.
I shook my head and got up out of bed. The motel room, like most hotels and motels, had a cheap little instant coffee setup. I got some going. The scent of brewing coffee was what finally roused Wheeler from his sleeping. He groaned and rolled over in the bed, peeking at me.
“You’re up?”
“Obviously. Honestly, how late do you usually sleep when there’s not someone else around?”
“In my defense,” he said, sitting up in the bed. “Most of the time I’m dealing with shit in the afternoon or evening. I don’t have to be up and alert for this early morning garbage you seem to be hardwired for.”
I smirked.
“We’re supposed to be heading out today though, remember? We can’t afford to sleep around in the motel all day.”
Though there was something else we could do in the motel all day.
Wheeler gave me a look that made me wonder if he could hear my very much inappropriate thoughts. His eyes roved for a moment before he chuckled to himself and hoisted on out of the motel bed. He came over, brushing against me as he used his size to nudge me on out of the way. I let him do his thing and make us our cups of coffee. It wasn’t the best, but it was good enough for giving a morning boost.
“Remind me to make something decent and fresh when we get to San Diego,” he muttered.
I laughed.
“What, don’t tell me that you’re a coffee connoisseur?”
“I like good brew, and that’s about it. This isn’t good brew. Tastes like shit.”
“I hate to know that you know what shit tastes like.”
I dodged his playful swipe, laughing at him heartily.
“You’re far too energetic this morning. It’s unnatural. You should be tired and angry, like me.”
I stuck my tongue out at him, feeling playful.
“And why would I want to be like that, when I could be in a good mood? Come on.” I downed the remainder of my coffee, much to Wheeler’s obvious horror at the fact that I was apparently less put off by the lesser quality of the coffee than he was. “We’re supposed to be getting on the road, not staying around here debating coffee.”
He tilted his head at me a little.
“You’re sure in a hurry.”
“I’d like to start getting things in motion—which you’re not doing there griping.”
Wheeler sighed—but I was right, and he knew I was right. There was another reason, however, that I was wanting to get on the road.
The more and more we were doing this thing, this … domestic kind of playful thing, the more that I liked it. I knew that it was far too soon for that. Especially with the circumstances.
So I was happy when Wheeler gave a gruff nod and downed the rest of his coffee with the biggest grimace that I’d ever seen a person give. It made me giggle a little and I had to stifle it, but Wheeler caught it anyway. He shot me a glance and stuck out his tongue, like a big baby.
“I’m not going to make you decent coffee when we hit San Diego, just for that. You’re a rude little shit.”
I snickered at him and decided to go ahead and wash up a little before we got ready to leave. I went to the bathroom and ran water to wash my face and to at least swish some water in my mouth. I heard the television turn on in the other room and Wheeler clicking through the channels.
My thoughts wandered.
This was such a whirlwind situation. By all rights, I should have been terrified—I had nothing anymore; the law was after me; and I was at the mercy of the good graces of a biker gang. Which wasn’t wholly accurate, since the only real good graces were that of Wheeler.
I liked him. We didn’t know each other well, but he was caring under that tough biker façade and I guess that was something that drew me to him. I called back to our time together, and to the sex. That amazing, titillating (unprotected) sex. I wasn’t usually so careless, but I didn’t really mind …
Don’t tell me you’re falling for him already, girl. You know how these things go.
I didn’t have a lot of time to ruminate further on that; Wheeler called to me from the motel room.
“Hey, Ember? You might want to see this.”
My brow rose; I didn’t like the sound of that.
I spit out the water and made my way out and into the motel room. Wheeler had the news on, and I was beginning to think that the only thing that the news was good for these days was bringing me bad news.
I watched the anchor on the television give his damning report.
“We received a tip this morning that Ember Amor was recently seen out and about at a local bar, The Dive. Commonly frequented by motorcycle clubs and often a hotbed for violence, The Dive isn’t a stranger to criminal activity, and last night was no exception. This updated tip, however, has confirmation that Ember Amor was in the company of a member of the Satan’s Son’s motorcycle club. It’s highly likely that they are working together—”
Wheeler cut the television off.
I wasn’t even angry. Mostly, I was numb. I should have expected this, but for some reason I hadn’t. I’d thought things were already bad; but they were just getting worse and worse every time someone decided they were going to open their mouths about me.
“You think that cops are going to be coming this way?” I had to ask the question.
Wheeler pondered on it.
“They mentioned the bar, but I doubt they have any kind of intel on where we went. They could say that we left together, but there’s a lot of places that we could have gone between the bar and literally anywhere else in California.” He looked down to me.
“Come on. Let’s get a move on. The faster we get back up back home and figure out a way to clear your shit up, the better things will end up being for you.”
I couldn’t say that I disagreed with him.
Chapter Eleven
Ember
The one thing that I hadn’t thought about when it came to heading to San Diego to meet up with the other chapter of the Satan’s Sons was the fact that they were a chapter of the Satan’s Sons. The same wild, violent group of men that had caused the trouble that I was in in the first place.
As we were getting ready, I thought about that. It was the first time that I questioned whether or not I would actually be any safer there than I had been at Wheeler’s place—and whether or not they would actually help us without strings attached. I remembered how Leech had looked at me and insinuated just that.
I didn’t want to be a bargaining chip.
“Hey, Wheeler?” He was in the bath
room, finishing up his own morning routine. After a second, he poked his head out the door.
“Yeah?”
“What is the San Diego chapter like? Are they like um … Your chapter?”
Wheeler cocked his head to the side. There was a bit of an amused look on his face.
“You mean rowdy, rude, generally disgusting?”
Okay, I might have smiled at that one.
“Yeah. Like that.”
Wheeler laughed.
“Nah. They’re actually pretty calm, to be honest. It’s like this—they were the original chapter of the Satan’s Sons, technically.”
“Technically?”
“Yeah.” He nodded and came out, leaning against the wall beside the bathroom. “Their president is Satan’s older brother—”
“Really?”
“Really. They had a bit of a split back in the day. Satan went his way; his brother went the other. They both run their chapters, and there’s other chapters that have popped up over the years, but they don’t talk a lot unless it’s really necessary. Differences in opinion on a lot of things; I never really cared to or needed to pry into business that wasn’t mine.”
“That’s understandable.”
“Aye. Well. Satan’s brother is the only one that I think would help with something like this, and he’s the only one that I can explain … other issues with him as well.”
That made me curious.
“Other issues?”
Wheeler hesitated. That gave me a reason to be a bit concerned, but I shrugged it off. It probably wasn’t my business, anyway, and did I really want to get involved in the internal affairs that plagued a motorcycle club?
No. That was an easy answer to come up with.
I walked over to him, and put my hand on his arm.
“Don’t worry about it. I don’t need to know about it. I just need to tag along while you rally troops and hope they’re willing to help, right?”
Wheeler laughed.
“You make it sound so easy.”
We left not too long after that. I was eager to get going and get out of there—paranoid about the news broadcast that we had seen that morning, and worried that someone from the motel would recognize me and inform the police of my whereabouts. It was largely unfounded, according to Wheeler, but with everything that had happened the last few days, I couldn’t help it.
We were in San Diego in a few hours. I had never been to the city, and I couldn’t keep my eyes off the sights around me. I had my arms wrapped tight around Wheeler out of necessity, but I craned my neck this way and that way to take everything in. A couple of times, I gasped and felt the urge to point—but I verbally expressed my interest to Wheeler. He took my enthusiasm in stride, laughing deeply from his belly at my enthusiastic remarks about the city.
“If we’re here for a while, remind me to take you around the place, if you love it so much. It’s pretty around here. It’s no wonder you’ll like it.”
I blushed at his comments. It was so easy to do so with him, I wanted to kick him, but I made a mental note of everywhere that I wanted to be taken while we were here if it was possible.
He was offering, after all.
We started to slow, and I knew that we were getting closer to the clubhouse. Despite Wheeler’s assurances, I felt nervous again about meeting these new people. I wasn’t usually so jittery, but I didn’t think anyone could blame me after the week I was having.
We pulled up to a building that wasn’t too different from the Ben Sur clubhouse. A large place—looked more like a huge family home than anything occupied by bikers. Of course, that was offset by the fact that the front lot was filled with motorcycles. There were men standing out front, too, joking around and laughing. They looked up when we pulled up. At first, they were cautious, but when their eyes fell to Wheeler, they lit up and waved over.
“Wheeler! What are you doing here?” one of the men asked. He came over as Wheeler got off the bike. I stayed seated, watching cautiously.
Wheeler greeted the man with a hug. They pulled back, clasping each other’s hands.
“I came hoping to see if I could talk to the boss man, actually,” he said casually. “He in?”
“Eh, not for a while. He went out on an early ride, but he’ll probably be around in a couple hours. You can come in, wait, catch up with us. You and—” The man turned his eyes on me and nodded his head in my direction. “That pretty lady. She can—”
The longer that the man looked at me, the more realization dawned on him. He recognized me, and his eyes widened a little.
“Oh. We’d been hearing about the trouble going on …”
“I know it’s short notice and I didn’t call—”
“Hell, boss man won’t care that you didn’t call, he’ll probably be more annoyed at you that you didn’t call sooner. Don’t worry about it. You and the girl can come in. Fill me in. I’m damn curious.”
The man walked off, heading up to the house. Wheeler turned to me. I had yet to get off his bike.
“Hey.” He came up to me. He put his hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eyes. “I told you, they’re good people, and nothing like the boys back home. Trust me; Smith is harmless.”
I nodded.
“Yeah … okay.”
I wasn’t wholly convinced, but I decided to trust Wheeler, and I followed him inside. There were more men inside, and I stuck close to Wheeler, apprehensive.
They stared at us as Smith, according to Wheeler, led us through. But unlike the stares of the men at Wheeler’s clubhouse, these ones were more curious and friendly than leering—it didn’t feel like they were trying to undress me just by having their eyes on me. It made me relax a little.
Okay. Maybe there was some truth to it. As long as there wasn’t some weirdo like Leech coming around corners trying to play a big boy …
We walked passed the bar area. One of the others called over to us.
“Hey, Wheeler! Long time no see, you want a drink?”
“Nah, not right now. I’ll catch you later on that one.”
I noticed that Wheeler was a lot more comfortable and relaxed here, too. He actually smiled. He wasn’t the serious, nearly surly man that tended to interact with his fellow Satan’s Sons.
Why wasn’t he with these people instead?
I couldn’t help but wonder that as they greeted him like friends, and he returned the gestures in kind. It was nice to see him relaxed, and in turn, it made me relax a little more as well.
Okay. This was going better than expected.
In the back, there was an office. Smith took us to it and knocked a couple times.
“Aye, boss man. You got a moment?”
There was some rustling on the other side and a gruff clearing of someone’s throat.
“Better be good.”
“Oh, you’ll just have to see.” Smith grinned at Wheeler and me before he pushed the door open.
It was a big office, with a thick, solid wood desk in the middle of it. It was put together—far from a corporate office, there were model bikes (even a real one, displayed off to the side,) the walls covered in pictures of what I could assume were the members of the club chapter, family, and friends.
My eyes roamed around the office and then fell on the man that was in it, sitting at the desk. He was older than Satan was, but somehow seemed healthier. His thick head of graying hair fell down over his shoulders and he wore a worn kutte with a lot of patches on it. He was scribbling away in a book and hadn’t looked up at us yet.
“What do you need, Smith? I told you I was going over these blasted numbers today.”
“I know, but we have visitors.”
“Well, tell them that I’m busy. I have important things to do.”
“You could tell them yourself.” Smith spoke playfully, and that obviously got on the man’s nerves. He huffed and was about to say something as he looked up before he paused, catching sight of Wheeler.
“Wheeler?” He seemed surp
rised. I wondered just how long it’d been since Wheeler had come this way.
“Hey, boss man. Long time no see.”
“You’re telling me, you bastard, come here.”
The man stood up and came around the desk even as Wheeler went to meet him halfway. They embraced, the man clapping Wheeler on the back.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” the man commented.
“Yeah … It’s been a while. How’ve you been?”