Road of No Return (gay outlaw biker MC romance)

by K. A. Merikan

  Zak gritted his teeth and knocked his forehead on the steering wheel so hard the horn went off. They might as well talk here if that would send Stitch away from his tail. He slowed down the car and pulled over to the grassy side of the road, into the shadow of the trees. Stitch stopped right in front of him, and as much as Zak was annoyed with him, it was hard not to notice how good his ass looked in those leather pants. Then again, it was an ass Zak had no access to, so it only pissed him off more.

  Stitch took off his helmet and made his way to Zak just as he shut the door of his car and leaned against it with a frown that he hoped would give Stitch the message. He was so angry his fists kept clenching on their own.

  Stitch walked up to him and pushed his chest. “The fuck was that, huh? Why you giving me so much attitude? Am I not good to you?” he hissed at Zak.

  Zak growled but crossed his arms on his chest, choosing not to push back. “Get your hands off me.”

  “Or what?” Stitch looked into his eyes with a sneer.

  “Or nothing. I’m through with you anyway.” Zak shook his head. He couldn’t believe this guy. Who gave him the right to act all bossy all of a sudden?

  Stitch’s eyes went wide, and he actually took a step back. “With me? You are through with me? The fuck is this supposed to mean? You wanna go back and fuck Travis or something?”

  Zak rolled his eyes. “I don’t want to fuck Travis, and I didn’t want to in the first place. That’s not the point. The point is, that you threatened my friends, manhandled me, fucking spied on me, and now you demand something from me? You’re not right in the head!” he yelled, pointing his finger at Stitch’s chest. His jaw was aching from how tense it was.

  “What are you, a fucking flower? I’m gonna do what I need to do. You can’t just fucking disrespect me!” Stitch’s face got red from rage.

  Zak let out a snort. “If you want respect, then you should be respectful in the first place. I’ll not accept you trying to control what I do. What did even give you that idea?”

  “It’s not control. It’s… surveillance. You can’t be with me and just go off to another city without letting me know!” Stitch walked to the other side of the empty road, breathing in deeply.

  “What world do you live in?” Zak raised his hands, almost ready to yank his hair out of frustration. “I will fucking go wherever I want. It’s not like I was leaving for a week.”

  “That’s it, I can’t take this bullshit. I’m not fucking air. You need to think of me when you make plans!”

  “Unless you drop this attitude, don’t come over to my house again. It’s fucking creepy,” growled Zak, looking straight into Stitch’s brown eyes. As angry as he was, he knew he would miss him around. But there was no way around it.

  “Fuck you then.” Stitch emphasized it by showing Zak the finger. “You either ride on the bitch seat, or you can find yourself a different guy. A fucking preschool teacher for all I care.” He stormed off to his bike, reminding Zak of the snarling dog on his club patch.

  Zak’s eyes opened wider as he watched Stitch jump on his ride. Zak scratched his head, staring at Stitch’s back. Did this guy actually think what they had was something more than fun? What a bizarre development. Not that it mattered because a controlling, aggressive type was the last person Zak would want to be with.

  All he got from Stitch was a swirl of smoke left by his bike shooting off like a rocket.

  *

  Zak came back home to a wrecked porch railing and a broken window. He cursed beneath his breath and walked up to the door, unlocking it without much haste. Versay barked from somewhere in the house. The pest didn’t even greet him at the door, that was how much everyone wanted to see him today. He supposed now that Stitch wouldn’t be coming over anymore, his life would get much less exciting.

  He dropped the keys on the cupboard and walked in, his gaze searching for the dog, but he stopped mid-stride when he noticed an odd, darker pattern on the wood. It wasn’t immediately recognizable, but when he moved his gaze all the way to the broken window, and the shards of glass scattered around a large rock, it all became clear.

  “Versay?” he yelled, following the trail all the way into the kitchen where all his worries were confirmed. The dog was curled up in his basket and whimpering. The poor thing was shivering all over and when Zak kneeled next to him, he noticed all the little shards of glass in his paws. Stitch was so gonna pay for the vet. And for the window. And for the fucking porch railing.

  Chapter 10

  “Fuck off, Milton,” Stitch said without even turning around from the fridge to look at Crystal’s not-so-new boyfriend. Since breaking up with Zak, everything seemed to go to shit. Not to mention the guilt he felt over Versay getting hurt on the glass. He hadn’t meant for that to happen, he had just been so angry. He got treated worse than a dog, and for what? For trying to know what Zak was up to. Big deal. It looked like homo relationships worked differently, and Stitch was shit at them. To make matters worse, he was spending more time at home, and Milton was making him crazy with everything, from his tendency to leave the toothpaste on the sink, to his choice of tea. Fucking herbal. Milton was like a fucking rusty nail that sat in Stitch's ass and never let him relax.

  The only good thing that came out of this situation was that Stitch was spending a bit more time with Holly, but even that was shrinking now that the stakes at the club were getting higher. Just today, he was rushing for a meeting at the clubhouse because Gator wanted to talk about some new opportunity for the Hounds. Which in real-talk meant most probably muling drugs.

  “I would just like to get to the refrigerator,” Milton said in that ridiculously polite tone of his.

  “Well, I’m choosing a snack, so you need to fucking wait,” Stitch snarled, looking at the empty side of the fridge.

  “But, I would like to point out, it isn’t your kitchen time.”

  Stitch turned around and looked into the guy’s eyes with heat rising in his body. “It’s my fucking house, Milton, so I will do what the fuck I want!”

  Milton’s gray eyes narrowed, but he stepped back, crossing his arms over the Superman symbol on his T-shirt. Stitch had no idea what Crystal saw in this guy. He wasn’t completely ugly, and not too skinny, but ditching a prime example of man such as himself for... Milton? He couldn’t get his head around it.

  “What’s going on in here again?” hissed Crystal, rushing into the kitchen with her red hair wild and still wet from the shower.

  “It’s not his time,” said Milton matter-of-factly.

  “Crys, this is ridiculous.” Stitch grabbed a sandwich from the fridge, to get this over with.

  “That’s not yours, Stitch!” Crystal raised her voice and walked up to him. He raised his hand up so she’d have to jump if she wanted to take the sandwich from him.

  She pressed her lips together tightly and stepped back, with a flush across her cheeks. “Can’t you buy your own food?”

  Stitch opened his lips wide and pressed the whole sandwich into his mouth at once. He pushed Milton on his way out and went straight for the door. He was late anyway and couldn’t speak with his mouth so full.

  “You’re such an ass!” Crystal yelled at him, but didn’t follow. Like she had the right to nag him after having woken him up with loud sex sounds yesterday.

  The moment he got on his bike, the world became clearer. The bike didn’t have a gender.

  *

  Captain took a big swig of his beer and leaned over the table with a wide smile. “Just think about it. The cash we get now is nothing. Sure, it’s decent money for you, could allow you to keep a woman, but think about Holly. What life can you give her now?” He spread his hands, bushy eyebrows gathering over his nose. “If we go with Gator’s plan, you can send her to a private school, maybe even save some money on a college fund.” He stabbed Stitch with his index finger. “Your daughter won’t have to work at the gas station. She could be a doctor and treat your gunshot wounds,” he finished with a smile.r />
  Stitch groaned. “Yeah, or visit me in jail. I’ll do it, you know I’m loyal to my brothers. But I want it to be done well. If we do this wrong, the Hounds are dead. There should be a better plan to it. If I take a parcel to Baton Rouge, the guys over there are gonna notice the Hounds are expanding.”

  Captain scowled. “You know Gator’s a brainiac. He has a fucking accounting degree, I trust his judgement completely.” He patted his fat hand on the table with a wide grin shining in the middle of the black bush of his beard. “Hell, maybe I could earn enough to retire in fucking Florida.”

  “Yeah, I can see you in fuckin’ Disneyland.” Stitch shook his head. “We’ll just have to keep each other’s backs and see how it goes in a month. I’m sick of all the shit in my life. I don’t even care anymore.”

  “What’s up between you and Crystal? For some time it seemed to be going well. What’s up?” Captain drained his beer and gestured to Joe, who immediately ignored the civilian patron he was talking to and got a new glass.

  “It’s the living together. It’s shit, you know. But if I move out I’ll see less of my kid. And then I see this Milton guy. If I took care of him, she’d know it’s me. I can’t be stirring up more shit with her. At the moment she’s fine with shared custody, but you know these things are always against us if they end up in court.”

  “I know man! As a guy, and as a biker, you’d have zero chance.” Captain bit his lip and shook his head. “But if being there is making your relationship worse, it might push her to try to take the kid away from you. That’s what worries me.”

  “Maybe more money will help. We’ll see. But I’ll try to keep my head clear at home.” Stitch shrugged. He couldn’t even drink, because he was picking up Holly from kindergarten later today. “Anyway, Zak’s been around? I saw someone with a new tattoo from him.”

  “Yeah, I got one, too. He’s much better than Troy,” said Captain with a sly grin, wordlessly accepting the new beer. “I’d show it to you, but this one’s for Melissa only.”

  Stitch shook his head, imagining Zak’s face when he tattooed Captain’s cock, or ass, or something. “I haven’t seen him here though.” Two weeks. Two fucking weeks without Zak were taking their toll on him. He missed having his hands on that lean, mean body. He’d even make pasta for Zak. If Zak weren’t such an ass that is.

  “You must be missing him because he does come over, at least two times last week. I thought you were staying at his on Milton’s visiting nights.” Captain shrugged. “Is he too busy now or something?”

  Stitch groaned. So the sonofabitch was coming over. Just avoiding him. “Yeah, yeah. I don’t wanna hear Milton’s name. Even hearing it fucking pisses me off.” He kicked the bar counter in a useless attempt to blow off some steam. He wanted to break things, smash a chair to pieces, but it wouldn’t really help him anyway.

  “Calm down, brother.” Captain’s hand on his forearm did nothing to soothe Stitch, but he squeezed his teeth tighter. “If bad comes to worse, you could take the guest room at mine.”

  “Thanks. I’ll go for a ride, clear my head.” Stitch got off the barstool and gave him a wave. He’d really thought he and Zak could be something stable, something to last. No such luck in the fag world apparently.

  He walked out of the bar and waved at a group of girls he knew, on his way to the bike. He needed to keep up appearances. He mounted his bike and just squeezed it between his thighs as he gently petted the front. It was high time to polish his baby again. He started the engine and pulled into the road, exhaling when the air pushed back his hair.

  He liked to drive around town, see what was happening, watch and be watched. It helped him think as well. But when he drove by the police station, he had to do a double take. He turned around at the end of the street and drove right back to check if his eyes didn’t deceive him.

  On the steps to the station was Zak. Tall, with the strange hair he was easy to spot. But next to him, with his face relaxed into a carefree laugh was no one other than Officer Cox. And just in the moment when Stitch looked back, Zak was busy fondling police arm.

  “The fuck is this?” he whispered to himself and drove into the parking lot in front of the station in one smooth move. He was finding out what was going on, and he was doing it now.

  Zak’s eyes narrowed, and even Cox looked back with a frown before taking Zak’s attention again. What the fuck was up with that? Once Stitch got closer, he noticed that Zak was actually drawing on Cox’s arm with a pen.

  “Hey, Zak. Hello, officer,” Stitch said, already climbing the stairs, bristled up like a rabid dog.

  “Hi,” said Zak but didn’t look up, busy creating little swirls on the pale skin.

  “Can I help you, Larsen?” asked Cox with a lazy smile. His dumb self-confidence was only causing Stitch’s anger to overflow.

  “Yeah, I was just worried about my friend Zak, officer. Wondering what business he could have here.” Stitch stopped two steps below them. His blood was at a boiling point.

  Zak sighed. “It’s all right, Stitch. Officer Cox wants a sleeve.”

  “Still in the planning phase.” Cox laughed.

  “Oh, yeah? Maybe Officer Cox should join the Hounds after he gets inked? Wanna prospect, Cox?” Stitch curled his fingers into fists, remembering how that smirking face had looked covered in pimples back in high school.

  Zak stepped back and mouthed something, but Cox just shrugged. “What does than entail?”

  “Oh, you know, cleaning the shitter, guarding my bike. Sounds good, Cox?” He was not stepping back from this. What the fuck? Was Zak friends with this motherfucker now?

  “And what else? Polishing your cock?” asked Cox with a face of stone.

  Zak groaned. “Guys, that’s very funny, but let’s break it up, okay?”

  Stitch ignored him and pushed Cox’s chest. “Oh yeah? You want that? You a fag, Cox?” he hissed into his face, his body burning with adrenaline. Just the idea that this guy could be fucking Zak had Stitch completely uncaring whether this was a police station or the fucking FBI headquarters. He would smash this guy’s face, consequences be damned.

  Cox grabbed his hand, and before Stitch knew it, a metal ring was around his wrist. He frowned and pulled his hand away, but he was like a wild animal caught in a trap. The other handcuff clattered around the steel railing at the side of the stairs, and Stitch felt blood drain from his face. Zak stared at him, wide-eyed from where he stood next to Cox, who had a shit-eating grin on his face. “You’ve attacked a police officer, Larsen.” He pointed to the camera over the station door. “We have it all on tape.”

  “Really? That’s your fucking agenda, pussy?” Stitch reached out with his other hand to smack Cox, but the fucker stepped away.

  “Whoa! You’re a very aggressive individual, Larsen. I think I need to call my fellow officers to make sure you don’t hurt anyone. Are you drunk? Are you on drugs? We’ll need to check that.”

  Stitch growled at him in aggravation and pulled the cuffs so hard the railing rattled.

  “Stitch, stop,” hissed Zak even as he looked to Cox, spreading his arms. “Come on, it was just a quarrel.”

  Cox sighed, his face getting more serious, but the glint of pleasure was unmistakable in his eyes. “Well I can’t let this go if it’s been filmed in front of the station. I’ll get someone to take him in,” he said and rushed up the stairs and inside. The moment he disappeared behind the door, Zak moved to face Stitch, his face contorted into a mask of rage.

  “What the fuck, Stitch? Attacking an armed policeman like that?”

  “He pissed me off,” Stitch hissed. “Fuck, Zak, come close, from my right.” He breathed faster, trying to calm down. The situation was bad enough, and he couldn’t allow for it to get any worse if he wanted to still be seeing Holly.

  Zak’s brows lowered, but he eventually did as Stitch asked. “That’s not an excuse. Lots of people piss me off, and I don’t do this kind of shit.”

  “I’ve got a gun in
the inner pocket of my cut. Take it, please, Zak, do this for me,” he whispered, getting frantic. “Away from the camera.” He turned around to have the camera on his back. Zak drew in a sharp breath, going ghastly gray. His eyes widened, but his hand was underneath Stitch’s leather vest before he managed to urge him on again.

  He pulled out the gun and put it in his messenger bag the moment Stitch heard the approaching stampede of steps. He knew he wouldn't be having fun tonight, but at least he got the iron off himself. “Zak… Sorry.”

  Zak’s Adam’s apple bobbed, and he stepped away, making way for Cox and Mahogahan, one of the other officers.

  “Has Zak talked some sense into you?” asked Cox, stopping right out of Stitch’s range. “If you behave, you’ll be out tomorrow, Hound.”

  Stitch pouted, already seeing a few more officers looking out through the windows and laughing their asses off as if he were some sad clown in a circus arena. He wanted to spit at Cox, but managed to stop himself from stepping into even deeper shit.

  “Stitch, you are one dumb fuck,” laughed Mahogahan as he approached him with his arms spread wide.

  Zak shook his head. “Isn’t that enough? Just take him in if you must,” he growled, and Stitch noticed how he kept his hand on top of his bag.

  Cox nodded at Zak, removed the handcuff from the railing, and pulled Stitch along into the station. “See you, Zak,” he said. “I’ll call you. Drive safe.”

  Stitch barely stopped himself from headbutting Cox.

  Chapter 11

  It was late in the evening when Stitch was about to get out. Thanks to Zak’s intervention, at least he didn't have to spend the night in a cell. Zak also made sure to let Cox know what he thought of the way Cox provoked Stitch for no reason, and after a bit of pseudo-flirting, Cox agreed to let Stitch out early. The fucker had actually been prepared to cuff Stitch before the shove. The gun was still burning a hole in Zak’s bag (and his brain for that matter). Stitch was carrying a concealed gun, and based on some of the things Cox had already told Zak, he wasn't supposed to possess one either. What was Stitch involved in that he felt the need to carry a firearm on him? And what was up with that jealous fit in front of the station? He needed to control himself better, especially when having something to hide.