by K. L. Savage
“You really have no idea how important you are to me.” He holds a hand to his wound and wobbles on his feet.
“Boomer!” I run to his side before he falls and sit him on the bed. “Don’t push yourself.”
“No, you need to hear this.” He takes my hand in his and holds onto me tight, like he is never going to see me again.
“You’re scaring me,” I say as a tear falls. “You’re going to make me mess up my makeup.”
He flashes the same grin that our father has in the photo that I carried with me when I was growing up. “Don’t be scared. I just want to say this to you. I don’t know. It feels monumental to witness you in a dress, makeup, and hair done. You’re all grown up now; you don’t need me.”
I sit next to him and squeeze his hands. “Is that what you think? Boomer, I’ll always need you. I had no idea how much until the day I showed up here. You’re my family. I love you more than anything.”
“That’s good.” He coughs, his voice is broken and high-pitched, and that’s when I see the tears swimming his eyes. He tilts his head back and looks up at the ceiling. “Shit, I’m such a bitch.”
“Shut up.” I nudge him with my shoulder. “I love you too. My life wouldn’t be what it is if it wasn’t for you.”
“Your date is here!” Poodle shouts from the main room.
“Oh gosh!” I stand and run my hand down my dress. It’s already been an hour? Since when? “Do I look okay?” I glance up at Boomer who stares at me with nothing but brotherly love.
“You’re going to be the prettiest woman there, Sarah.” He brings our hands above my head and spins me around. The tulle of my yellow dress flows around me, and I smile, actually excited to go to prom.
“Escort me out?”
He holds out his elbow, standing as straight as he can without causing himself pain. “Like I’d have it any other way.”
We walk slow, passing my bed, vanity, and bathroom. When we get to the door, Boomer opens it with his free hand, and what I see makes me gasp. All the guys line the hallways on either side of the door. Their beards are combed, their hair is tied back, and they’re wearing their best clothes. All of them are in blazers, and they have flowers on the lapels of their suits.
“What…What is all this?” I ask as Boomer takes a step forward between the two lines.
“I asked all the guys to clean up. This is your night. You’re the only important woman here in the entire club, Sarah. We wanted to show you that we care about you.”
“I’m not getting married.” I feel like I’m walking down the aisle.
“Not yet, but whenever you do, we will all be here,” Boomer says.
I’m nervous. He says all the men, and I can’t help but wonder if that includes Reaper. When I see Tongue on my left, I squeal and throw my arms around his neck. He lifts me into the air, holding me tight. “Look at you! You look gorgeous, Sarah. I got you something,” he whispers into my ear as he places me on the floor.
He’s careful, since I’m in five-inch heels, and holds me steady. He slips something into my hand and brings his fingers to his lips.
When I take a peek at what it is, I see that it’s a fake I.D. I can’t help but do a little happy dance and throw my arms around him again. “You’re the best! Thank you!”
“Eighteenth birthday, you and me, the strip?”
“Like I’d ever miss it!” I tell him. Gosh, I’m smiling so hard, my cheeks hurt.
“Go, you’re going to be late.”
I love how slow Tongue talks. People blame it on his accent, but I think it’s something else, something deeper; another reason why he doesn’t talk much and why he cuts tongues out of others. I just want to know what it is.
I slip my new I.D. in my strapless bra and continue down the makeshift aisle. It’s hard to not cry. These men have surrounded me for the last few years, helping me, especially when I needed it most, and it’s emotional seeing them all around me, prevailing for me.
Eric finally comes to view. The doctor. The reason why I’m here in the first place. It’s hard to keep a straight face because my emotions break when I walk into his chest and lay my head there, letting him hold me softly. “Thank you,” I tell him, a tear escaping me. I tried not to cry, but a woman can only hold back so much with all this support surrounding her.
“Aw, sweetheart, no need to thank me. Be safe, okay?” Eric has no idea how much he changed my life the day he found me outside. It all started with him.
I get to the end of the aisle before the new doors. They are metal and have a small square space in the middle that opens for us to look out of. Reaper is serious about safety, but he obviously doesn’t care about seeing me out for prom like the others. The guys really set the standard high for any other men. I’m a lucky girl.
Boomer opens the door, and all I see is a massive chest wearing a tux. Slowly, I slide my eyes open until I’m met with Reaper’s face. Like the other brothers, his shaggy hair is slicked back. I’ve never seen him look so uncomfortable.
“You look lovely,” he says, lifting his eyes to someone behind me. It’s like he is reading off a prompt. “I hope you have a great time tonight. Here, I got this for you.”
He sounds weird. Is he actually reading off prompt cards? I try to turn around, but someone’s hands on my shoulders stop me. Okay, I get the picture. I take the blue velvet box from his palm and open it, gasping when I see the teardrop diamond hanging from a rose gold necklace. “This is beautiful,” I say.
“Not as beautiful as you look tonight. It’s from all of us.” Reaper takes the necklace out of the velvet box, and it looks so fragile in his sausage fingers. I turn around, and he places the necklace around my neck, clasping it. “We love you. Stay safe and call us if you need us.” He opens the door, and a long black limo awaits. David is hanging out of the sunroof, shaking a few liquor bottles in the air.
“They’re awesooooome!” he shouts, already slurring his words.
“I might have gotten a limo with a full mini-bar, but I didn’t think he would drink it all already,” Reaper mutters.
I lay my hand on his bicep, his strong, thick muscle, and feel my lower belly flutter. My heart aches, and I let my hand fall to my side. “He’s a lightweight.”
“That explains it,” he says, rocking on his heels. “I’d like all of us to get a picture. It isn’t often our favorite girl goes to prom.”
“David?” I shout. “Come take a photo.”
He falls out of the car and grins, a flush over his cheeks from the alcohol. “You got it.”
I hand over my phone and all twenty or so brothers line up on the porch. I stand between Reaper, Boomer, and Tongue, and grin. The flash of the photo blinds me for a second, and before my eyes can readjust, he takes another picture, and another.
Reaper lifts me up into his arms, and he and I stare at one another as the flash goes off. I’m not too sure what his eyes are saying, but I know my heart is screaming for us to be together at last.
He sets me down carefully, making sure to keep ahold of the back of my train so I don’t step on it with my heels. “You’re going to have the night of your life,” he says.
I know that the best night of my life will be the one I have with Reaper if he and I can ever get over our differences. I make my way down the steps, but Reaper grabs ahold of my hand, stopping me in my tracks.
I glance over my shoulder to look at him and then back at David who is waiting for me to get in the car. “I’ll be there in a second!” I raise my voice a bit so David can hear me, and he climbs in the limo, keeping the door open.
The brothers head inside the clubhouse, leaving me alone with Reaper.
It’s just the two of us under the night of the sky, the stars twinkling with every blink of our eyes. It’s romantic with the sound of crickets and frogs singing all around us. I want to dance with him, lay my hands on his shoulders while his fall at my waist, as I sink into him.
Instead, I keep my distance because I know where
I stand with him now.
“Stay safe tonight, okay? If anything happens, if you need me, I want you to call me or any of the guys, and we will come as soon as possible, do you understand? Anything at all, Sarah; I mean it.”
I nod with understanding. “I’ll call Boomer if I feel the need to; don’t worry.”
I see the hurt across his face, like I’ve slapped him or something. He clears his throat, glancing down at the space between us. I guess it’s just like our age difference.
It’s there when it doesn’t need to be.
“You can call me too,” he says. “You know I’ll always be there.”
“I know, but I think it’s best if I don’t call you, Reaper. I’m trying to give you what you want. You can be with whoever you want, okay? I’m stepping back. I’m moving on.” I’m not moving on, but I don’t want him to know that. A man his age, his caliber, he deserves to grip life, or ass, with his hands.
And if ass is what he wants, who I am to get into his way?
“It isn’t like that, Sarah.”
“What’s it like, then?”
“Go.” He juts his chin toward the limo. “Let’s not talk about it tonight. Go have fun and if…” His Adam’s apple bobs, and he struggles to form the words. “If you and David do more than dance, just be safe.”
Before I muster a laugh, he spins on his heel and heads inside, leaving me stunned and a little grossed out at the thought of David and me having sex.
I stare at his retreating form too fondly before walking down the steps and sliding into the limo. “Let me see the phone,” I tell David, and he drunkenly hands it over to me, falling on the floor of the car, giggling.
The first picture that comes up is the one of me and the entire crew. My family. I flip to find my favorite one, but I can’t decide. It’s so amazing that someone like me has the support and love out of a motorcycle club like the notorious Ruthless Kings. I keep flipping through photos until the one of Reaper holding me comes to view.
Everyone else is staring at the camera, but Reaper and I are locked onto one another. My hand is on his chest, and as I zoom in, I see the look of love shining off my face as I look into his chocolate eyes that almost blend into the night.
Curious, I zoom in on his face, and a flame of hope ignites in my chest. The way he is looking at me, that isn’t a look of a man who hates or despises me.
That’s a look of a man who loves me.
“Come on! Let’s go to prom!” David shouts as he peeks his head through the sunroof. “I’m going to dance my ass off.”
“Are you even going to make it to prom?” I question him with a sly grin and send the pictures to myself from David’s phone.
“Of course, I am. I’m going to be the life of the party,” he slurs, matter of factually.
That I do not doubt.
It’s one of the best nights of my life. Things may be strained between Reaper and me, but I know I’ll never be able to thank him enough for giving me a life I thought I’d only ever have when I died at the hands of my foster dad.
I’m going to prom!
I never thought I’d live to see the day.
15
Reaper
Prom was hard.
I stayed up all night until she walked through the door, and only then could I sleep. They wouldn’t let me be a chaperone. I had asked months in advance, but they didn’t want the kids to be scared. Scared! What the fuck would I ever do to a kid? So I had to wait like a good boy until she got home. And I couldn’t help but wonder if she had lost her virginity to that asshole David. I shouldn’t be thinking about that at all, but I am because it was meant to be mine.
Graduation?
That was easy. I was so proud of her for walking across that stage after everything she has been through. It was a day she rightfully deserved.
The biggest day of my life is in one day. Her birthday.
Sarah will finally be eighteen, and I can’t fucking wait to be able to breathe again. I haven’t been able to take a full breath since the moment she stumbled into my life. I feel like I’ve been drunk for a week straight with all the damn events happening. We’ve celebrated every day and tonight, at midnight, we are hitting the strip to make sure she has a day she can remember.
Right now, she is getting her hair done, and the only thing I can think about is what if she ruins her beautiful blonde hair?
“Squeeze that bottle any tighter, you’re going to break it,” Tool says as he takes the stool next to me.
I grunt in response, bringing the longneck to my mouth and letting the bitter taste of it coat my throat. It isn’t enough to wash down the anticipation of what could happen at midnight. I’ve had this idea in my head for a while now that once that clock strikes midnight, I’ll sweep her off her feet and finally take that kiss I’ve been dying for.
I glance at my watch and groan. It’s only been two minutes since the last time I checked.
“Waiting for something?” Tool’s grin says it all. He knows why I’m so fidgety and anxious. Sarah and I haven’t been on the best terms lately, and every single day that passes, the tension only becomes thicker and more difficult to manage.
“I’m really not in the mood for small talk, Tool. I’m really not. It’s been a tough week. I’ll just be glad when it’s over.” Because when it’s over, it means I’m sliding into her virgin cunt and claiming it as mine.
“I just bet you are.”
“Stop your cheekiness. This isn’t funny,” I grumble.
“Okay—” Tongue slaps a piece of paper in front of me, causing the bottle to slide from my lips and spill all over me.
“Shit, Tongue! Damn it,” I shake off the liquid from my shirt, and a few drops get on the paper in front of me. “What’s this?”
“Sorry, Prez,” he says real slow like. Tongue reaches in his back pocket and tugs a blade out of his jeans and glides it along his skin, as if it is second nature. “It’s just the plan for Sarah’s birthday. What do you think?”
I stop shaking my shirt off and lift a brow at Tongue, impressed and a bit jealous he would come up with a schedule. I thought we would hit one side of the strip and then the other, and just see where the night takes us. Apparently, I’m an asshole because women like the big party sort of thing—the plan, the cake, the giggles—all that bullshit, and I was just going to let her hop around.
Jesus Christ. I know nothing.
“That’s a gay bar.” I point to the sheet. “Why would she want to go there?”
“She told me she wanted to go to one.”
“Do you guys have late night pillow-talks or some shit? How do you know her so fucking well?” Jealousy eats at me. I barely put in any effort to get to know her over the last few months. It became too hard, too unbearable not to do more than to just talk to her, but I don’t like one of my own men sneaking behind my back and trying to win her over. Everyone here knows she’s mine.
And everyone fucking knows I’ve been waiting for the time to come to make her my ol’ lady.
“We hang out.”
That gets me out of my chair in no time. I have him pressed against the bar, arm against his throat, and my other hand has ahold of his wrist so he can’t swipe me with that knife. I know better than to think Tongue won’t attack me. There’s something broken inside the man, something sick, and President or not, he doesn’t care—if he is threatened, he will retaliate.
Those gray eyes swirl with lightning, brewing that psychotic storm I know is inside him. “You hang out? Is that all you do? What are you doing hanging out with her? Tell me the truth?” I slam him down on the bar, and Tool pushes me off Tongue, blocking me from him.
“You’re making a damn scene,” Tool says. “Walk it off.”
“Fuck you. I’m not going anywhere until I get an answer from him.” I toss my beer bottle over my head, throwing it right next to Tongue’s head. He doesn’t flinch. Poodle is behind the bar, and he ducks down just in time before the bottle lands directly in t
he middle of the liquor shelves.
Glass shatters as a hundred bourbon, rum, vodka, gin, and every other liquor bottle falls to the ground. Thousands of dollars ruined on the floor. No one says a word. Drips of alcohol and weak glass fall, but everyone’s attention is on me. None of this would have happened if I turned her away when she came here. I should have turned her away, but one look into those brown eyes, and I fucking knew I was a goner.
And she has gone and ruined fucking everything. My life has completely changed.
“I hang out with her because we are friends, not that you deserve an answer.” Tongue tilts his head, and he looks like he is about to slit my throat with the murderous glare he has in his eyes.
I launch myself at him, but Tool blocks me again and pushes me so hard, I slam against the wall. “Go fucking take a walk, Reaper. Go to the garage. Get some air.”
“I’ll do whatever the f—”
“I’m calling a vote if you don’t.”
“You’re challenging me?” A satanic laugh boils from my throat. “You have to be fucking kidding me. Fuck all of you. I’m out.” Something about the way all of them looked at me made me feel weak, broken, like I’m not fit for my patch. It pisses me off. I brush by Tank and Skirt, Poodle and his goddamn sissy dog, and make my way toward my bike.
I need fresh air, Tool is right about that, and riding on my bike is just what I need. I swing my leg over the seat, it’s warm from the sun, and crank the powerful engine. It rumbles, and automatically I feel better. Most of the anger leaves me, but I feel it, simmering and waiting to boil over.
I’m a quick pull of the trigger right now, and it’s best if everyone stays out of my way. My phone rings just as I’m about to pull away, and I pick it up on the first ring. “What?” I snap.
“I have a job for you. It’s last minute. I need it done. Now. Can you do it?” Moretti asks, his tone calm and cool. He doesn’t sound urgent at all, but for him to make a call to me, that tells me it’s important that it gets done.
“Sure. I’ll be there in ten.” I usually always take my men with me, always Tool and Bullseye. They’re my righthand men. After what just happened in there, I need some space, and this run is exactly what I need.