Blackie starts blustering, Furnace shuts him up. “Nothing you can say, Brother. You can’t vote on this.”
The vote goes quickly around the table. Only seconds later it seems, Blackie’s out. As two members force him from his chair, and stand with him held tight between them, Furnace eyes his now empty seat. “Want to take a vote on a new prez now? Or give it some thought?” the VP asks.
“I vote Furnace.” Bomber hardly waits until the VP’s words are out of his mouth.
“Seconded.” Someone shouts quickly.
A full vote’s taken. Furnace looks like he’s just been passed a burden, but he’s quick to rise to the challenge. “First off, Carter’s now a full member. I’d say welcome to the table, Brother, but now’s not the right time. We’ll decide your handle later.”
I’m a member. Which gives me rights. No longer a prospect. I stare at my father. “I want him dead.”
“Dispatched to Satan? Well, Brothers. Our new patch has put that on the table. Anyone disagree?”
“He’s a loose cannon if we let him live. Out bad’s too good for him.” Bomber’s support surprises me. “Man thinks he can take what isn’t his.”
Another vote. This time I say ‘aye’ too, but all the time I’m watching my father’s face, seeing it go through a range of emotions as it dawns on him this is his last night on earth, finally settling on hatred directed toward me.
Furnace bangs the gavel loudly after pronouncing the death sentence. Then he catches my eye. “You were the brother wronged, Carter. You get a say in how he’s dispatched.”
It’s only then I realise how long I’ve hated him. I’d tried to be dutiful, done what was expected, followed him into his newly formed club at the time as a result of his plea to make up the numbers. It’s as if he’d been jealous of me all my short adult life. I was better looking, younger, faster, stronger. Everything he tried to belittle and put down.
The words come out before I’ve really had a chance to compose them. “We all know where he’ll end up. I want to cut his cock off so he won’t be able to rape anyone, even in hell.” My voice gets louder, stronger, as my father seems to diminish in front of my eyes. I could never, ever, forgive him for this. If he lived, every breath he took would remind me. “I want him to know what it’s like to burn before the fires of hell reach him. Burn his tat off. Do what you like to him after that, but let me take the final shot which kills him.”
“Rain hellfire down on him?” Furnace’s mouth quirks. “Reckon we might have found your road name. Hellfire.”
It was messy. It wasn’t quick. Blackie was begging for death long before I fired that bullet toward him. But no amount of suffering could make up for what he’d done to me. More importantly, what he’d taken from Moira.
Would I ever have another chance with her?
Chapter Seven
Moira
Present day…
It’s one of those evenings when it’s impossible to settle. Each time I get comfortable my body starts burning, sweat pouring off my brow. So I open the window, standing there for a moment, letting the freezing cold air cool me. Back on the couch, within minutes I’m too cold, so I’m getting up to close the window again. Fuck I hate this. My thermostat’s broken. Jeez. What a state to be in. It’s not long before I’m back to wiping my dripping face. No wonder Hell can’t stand to be near me.
What’s he doing now?
My mind tortures me with images of his still lean ass pounding in to a willing sweet butt. Any of them would go with him without giving a thought to me, his wife. One reason I no longer go to the compound. They’d let me know if they’d scored one over on me, a snide comment here, a knowing look there. I wouldn’t be able to bear it.
Thirty-six years we’ve been married. Lots to show for it. Not least my gorgeous kids. I stare at the photographs on the mantelpiece. There’s Demon, looking fine in his cut and leaning against his Harley. That was taken on a ride last year. The last time I remember being on Hellfire’s bike.
Then there’s Kennedy, my beautiful daughter. She got married a few months back, and I’m hoping there’ll be grandchildren in my near future. I admit to having breathed a sigh of relief when she finally settled down with a good man. Accountants don’t need to be boring, and at least, she has nothing to do with the club. I didn’t want that for my daughter.
Then there’s Samuel. My, but he was an afterthought. Didn’t think we were going to be lucky with another. There’s eight years between him and Kennedy, but it saved me having empty-nest syndrome too early. He’s at college, brains of the family went to him. He’s studying law—Hellfire suggested he concentrate on the criminal side. My lips curve as I recall the conversation. Samuel’s a good boy nowadays. Still relies a lot on his mom. Still getting us to bail him out when his student allowance doesn’t stretch to feeding him. He’ll learn. In time.
Does it upset me that the menopause signals no more babies for me? Nah, not at all. I’ve done my part to repopulate the world. And got three great kids to show for it.
I just hope Hellfire also appreciates how much he’s got, and doesn’t throw it away. If I know for certain he’s been unfaithful, I’ll file for divorce. Couldn’t live with this uneasy feeling inside of me. I’m not that woman who would turn a blind eye. There’d be ugly fights, uglier tears. Trying to work on a marriage that’s failed wouldn’t be worth it. That’s why I don’t want to know for sure. Want to hang on to these last few days, weeks, months when I’m in ignorance. The day he admits it, well, he’s not coming back.
How did it come to this?
We’d overcome the worst beginning a marriage could ever have. I’d always thought our relationship was unshakeable, that having survived what we had, nothing could come between us. We were it. For life.
His father had raped me. Had tricked me into his room under the pretext of showing me some old photographs. Said since we were going to be family, I ought to see them. He was the president of the club; how could I refuse? It’s only when he shut and locked the door behind me, I realised his intentions were something else entirely.
It might have been thirty-six years ago, but the memories still come back to haunt me, especially times like this when I’m feeling low. I’d turned and looked at him, seeing something positively evil in his eyes, summoning up the only defence I thought I had.
“I’m with Carter,” I say, firmly.
“You’re a bitch. You don’t care whose cock you ride. Came here with the hangarounds tonight, knew what you were asking for.”
My heart’s beating fast. How do I get out of this? “I’m with Carter.” I repeat, wondering why I allowed Jeannie to persuade me to accompany her tonight. I knew it was wrong. Carter had told me it was best I didn’t come to the club. Not until he patched in. “I’m sorry,” I try to tell him. “I shouldn’t have come here. I’ll just leave.”
It’s as if I hadn’t spoken. “Prospects can’t claim women. Asshole’s been lying if he told you other than that.” He walks closer, near enough I can smell his perspiration. My nose wrinkles, it’s unpleasant. “And why would you want a boy, when you can have a man? The president at that. Doesn’t get much better, sweetheart. Now why don’t you show me what you’ve got. Strip.”
I refuse. He won’t listen. I say no. He ignores it. I scream, the music from downstairs drowns my cries out. I fight him, of course I do. But he’s so much stronger, he easily overpowers me, laughing as he does and when each of my weak kicks misses its mark. Then he roughly takes what I’d preserved for so long, what I wanted to give to Carter.
I’d refused to see Carter. Hadn’t wanted anything to do with him ever again. My thoughts of him tainted by his father. My greatest fear was coming face to face with Blackie, him perhaps even wanting more. There could be no future between Carter and I. Family dinners? I couldn’t even imagine it. I was scared of Carter, was he like his father? Had I had a lucky escape? Would he have become fed up with waiting and forced me himself?
I was embarra
ssed too, not wanting my parents to know. I had gone to a notorious biker club, where girls only go for one thing. Biker cock. In their eyes, I would have been asking for it. In most people’s eyes, I suspect.
Telling my folks only that I’d broken up with my boyfriend, they were sympathetic at least as far as to follow my instructions when answering the phone, telling him I wasn’t home, or that I didn’t want to speak to him. He came to the door, my father turned him away, and then shook his head at me. I’d been dating a biker. What did I expect?
One time I’d tortured myself, and had watched him ride away, noticing his cut no longer read Prospect, but instead had a full patch there. The patch he’d been after. Did he get that because he allowed his father to hurt me? Was that the price he had paid?
“You can’t keep yourself hidden away, Mo. It’s not healthy.”
I’m not sure if I’m glad Jeannie’s come to visit or not. That night she’d left her hook-up to come with me, taken me back to her place, looked after me. But the loss of my ‘cherry’, as she put it, didn’t seem such an earth-shattering event to her, while I was completely devastated.
Worse, she seems to have found a boyfriend, the biker she went with that night. She’s always at the clubhouse, and reporting back how much fun she’s having, while I just wish I could erase its existence from the earth.
She hasn’t seen Carter’s father around, and there seems to be a new president, but she knows no more than that. When I ask her, she heard nothing to suggest his disappearance is related to me. Bikers live a mysterious life, I’m told. They never divulge their business, even to those they take as old ladies.
“I’m not feeling well, Jeannie. Leave me be.”
“How, not well, Mo?” Where men are concerned she’s shallow, but she’s got a good heart underneath.
“I’m not sleeping. Every time I close my eyes…”
“Oh, hun.” She puts her arm around my shoulders. “You’ve got to snap out of it. There was always going to be a first time, wasn’t there? Now it’s over, you’ve got to move on.”
She doesn’t understand. “I wanted my first time to be when, where and with a person I chose. Not with the father of the man I loved.” I sniffle loudly, “I wanted it to be with Carter.”
“Carter, or Hellfire as he’s now known, keeps asking about you. He wants to know you’re okay. You can still be with him if you want to.”
“I was a virgin.” I tell her again.
She tries to stifle her laugh, but fails. “Everyone knows that.”
I shudder. When Blackie had dismissed me, I hurriedly got into my clothes, not realising I was bleeding, and had forgotten I was wearing white pants. Yeah, everyone who’d seen me that night would have been well aware. All those bikers. I bet they’re still laughing now.
“Apart from not sleeping, how are you? You look pale, Mo,” she observes.
That would probably be from not eating, and not going out. “I keep being sick, I think I’m coming down with something.”
Her eyes sharpen. “And it’s been, what, three weeks now?”
I nod.
Her lips purse, then she announces she’s got to go, but she’ll be back. True to her word, it’s not long before she returns. With a pregnancy test. Wild-eyed I stare at it, and at her. It sounds crazy, but I never considered that might be the reason I’m feeling unwell. I just put it down to stress. Now she’s put the idea in my head, I’m terrified. Going completely cold, I realise I need to know. Picking it up with shaking hands, I take it into the bathroom. A few minutes later, having done what the instructions told me, I take it back out, setting it down on the dresser.
When it’s time, it’s Jeannie who picks it up. The answer is written on her face. I’m going to have a lasting memory of that night.
Unless I do something about it.
“How much money have you got?” I ask her. “Can you lend me some?”
Her expression shows she’s joined the dots together. “You want an abortion?”
I can’t have the baby of a man who’s raped me. Can’t have that reminder in my life. Though it goes against everything I’ve ever thought. It’s the only option, as long as I can get the money together.
“Blackie should pay,” she tells me. “He caused this. I presume he didn’t use a condom?”
He hadn’t. He hadn’t given me the chance to ask him. I was too busy saying no.
Her mouth narrows. “I’ll help. Let me think how to do this. Don’t worry, okay?”
Don’t worry? Has she lost her mind? What else could I do?
Even now I rub my stomach, the memory of the horror of finding out I was carrying the baby of my rapist returning to me. I was seventeen. Too young to be a single mother, too immature, even had I had a man by my side. Too young to cope. Too young to be able to afford to do anything else. The only certainty was I’d be homeless if my parents found out. They were a dichotomy of alcoholics and religious nuts.
If I’d been sleepless before, it was worse that night. When Jeannie had called and asked me around to her house the following morning, I couldn’t refuse to go, I was out of options. She’d said she would help. All my teenage-self could do was hope she had answers on how I could get the money I needed.
What I hadn’t expected was to find Carter, Hellfire now, waiting for me.
I spin on my heels, not wanting to speak to him. Now, even more, unable to face him.
“Moira. Wait.” He doesn’t give me a chance, following me back down the path, his long legs covering more ground than my own. He catches me, his arms hold me tight, his familiar scent and warmth surrounding me. “I know it all,” he says fast, as though he’s only got moments to speak. “I love you, Moira. What Blackie did? I’ve no words to tell you how I feel. But we’ve both got to work through it, deal with it. And that’s best done together. I love you, Moira. I want you to be mine. Nothing’s changed except for that barrier my fuckin’ father put between us.”
He can’t know everything. He’d run a mile if he did. There’s no easy way to tell him. “I can’t, not now. I’m pregnant, Carter. Pregnant. I want an abortion.”
“I know.” His nose nuzzles my cheek. “I know. And whatever happens, we’re in this together. My fault you came to the club, I didn’t warn you sufficiently, didn’t explain. But I’m a patched member now, babe, the old rules don’t apply. You’re mine, everyone knows and respects that. Ain’t gonna be anyone put a hand on you again.”
I don’t believe him. Don’t want him, or his club. “Your father…”
He interrupts. “He’s dead.”
“Dead?” I repeat incredulously, unable to believe it.
He holds me at arm’s length, one hand smoothing my face. “What he did to you? Couldn’t be left walkin’.”
“You killed him?”
“We all had a hand in it, babe. Not one of my brothers condoned what he’d done. Prospect or not, he’d laid hands on a brother’s woman. Hands which weren’t wanted.”
It was a fucked up situation. There I was, unable to deny I wanted to be with the man who’d said he had already claimed me. A man whose father had raped me, stolen my virginity. A man who’d killed his father because of the actions he’d taken that night. On top of that, I had his brother incubating in my stomach. But somehow he wanted me, and he was going to have me, no obstacle too great to be put in his way. Hellfire proved he had a strength of character, a determination inside him that many other men didn’t have.
Fifteen years later it hadn’t surprised me that when Furnace came off his bike and was pronounced dead at the scene, that it was Hellfire who was voted in as the new president. Just like that morning when he’d solved my problems, he’d stepped up, showing his strength yet again. A force to be reckoned with, no problem too difficult to be solved.
My decision, he’d told me, about the baby. He’d stand by me either way, he’d deal with whatever road we would take. It might have been just a few cells at that moment, but being able to see a path ahead wh
ere I could keep it changed everything. I hadn’t had to explain. When Hell had placed his hand on my stomach, I knew the choice, and commitment, had been made without the need for discussion.
We married without fuss a week after I found out I was expecting. Our son, who was to become Demon, born as far as anyone else knew, a month early. I’d moved into the clubhouse the day of our wedding, surprised at my welcome, but then, Hellfire had smoothed the way. Blackie, it seemed, had been wiped out of existence, his name never mentioned, or at least, not in my hearing. The room I’d been raped in, now taken over by Furnace. I’d never stepped foot in it again.
More unexpected, I became friends with the men, quickly they’d ceased to frighten me. They might be rough and tough bikers, but in many ways, were still boys underneath, playing tricks and pranks on each other. Furnace was a good prez, Hellfire, when he’d got his chance to have his turn, even better.
Demon prospected when he turned eighteen with my blessing, like the man he knew as his father, quickly moving up through the ranks, only a few years passing before he became VP. Hellfire and Demon worked well together, were a strength to the club. Their views coinciding on most things, where they differed, each willing to listen to the other. I’d often wondered whether it was because they were brothers, not father and son.
Though that secret, Hellfire and I had agreed, we’d take with us to the grave.
Chapter Eight
Paladin
My gaze follows Jayden as she enters the Tucson clubhouse. She looks around, spots me, and starts heading over. I can tell by the serious expression on her face that she’s got something to get off her mind. There’s not much she can hide from me, I’ve spent the last two years and more watching her, learning about her. Falling ever deeper in love with her.
As she draws closer, I kick out a chair. A quick nod of thanks, and then she sits down, immediately leaning forward and putting her elbows on the table, clasping her hands in front of her. It would be hard not to notice her eyes look sunken as though she’s had a sleepless night.
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