She smells like a summer’s day, maybe a flowery comparison for a biker, and it must be down to her shampoo, but that’s the only way I can describe it. Her fingers are gentle as they roam across my body, her little sighs of appreciation as she discovers something she likes does nothing to deflate my hard dick.
After diving into the deep end with Sally, I’d promised myself I’d stop searching for my one, had realised the dangers of getting in with the wrong woman again. I’d learned about my own shortcomings as a man, and that while I’ll give everything I can to the woman I love, I can’t take being constantly depended upon.
I’d be up for a quick fuck, what man wouldn’t? But what would be her expectations after that? A ring on her finger?
“Beef, am I making you uncomfortable?”
My hands haven’t strayed from where they lightly rest on her hips. She’s noticed I’m not reciprocating, but she can’t see I’m using my eyes where she has to use her hands. Feasting on her gorgeous tits covered only by a thin tee. I haven’t told her her nipples show, not when there’s just the two of us here. One of my brothers comes calling? I’d tell her to put on a bra.
How best to answer her question? Am I uncomfortable? Yes, no. Affirmative because my cock’s so fucking hard, no because I don’t want her to move. I’m enjoying the sensation of having a beautiful woman sitting on my dick even though I’d prefer there to be no clothes between us.
“Babe. You must know what you’re doing. Meant what I said, ain’t going to act on it, but…” I tell her at last, “you’re an attractive woman. And I’m a red-blooded man. Think you need to move.”
“You think I’m attractive?”
“Of course, I do.”
“Hmm. I like the feel of you.” Her hands trace my chest. “I think you’re attractive too.”
“You can’t see me.” I chuckle.
“Are you butt ass ugly?”
I laugh as she asks me outright and taken aback as to how to reply. I settle for, “I wouldn’t win a beauty pageant if that’s what you’re asking, but I do alright. No one’s ever complained.”
“Can I kiss you?”
I still.
“Just a kiss. Beef?”
A kiss. But if our mouths meet, the signals from my cock tell me that’s not all I’d like to do. Would I be able to stop there? Would she?
What if she wants to take things further? I promised myself I wouldn’t leap into another relationship. Go with a sweet butt with no expectations? Sure. But Stevie? We’re living together, for fuck’s sake. Neither of us able to walk away.
It would be a very bad idea. Wouldn’t it?
I hadn’t realised I’d murmured the last thought aloud, but I must have.
“Why bad, Beef? As you’ve said, you’re a man, I’m a woman. I’ve got needs too. We’re friends, aren’t we? How about friends with benefits?” She bites her lip, and inhales deeply, the action causing her breasts to thrust pushing up against that tee, stretching the Satan’s Devils logo. “I’m not asking for a future, I don’t have one. Not here, not with you. But to be in your arms, just once?”
I’m silent. Christ, she’s offering herself to me on a platter. No strings.
I’m quiet for so long, she starts to move. “I can understand you’re worried after what you went through with Sally. You’ve only just got yourself out of that mess. Beef, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have suggested it, I’ll respect your boundaries and won’t ask again. This wouldn’t be a good idea.”
Now she’s said it, perversely I want to change her mind back again. As she goes to get up, my arms move around her and tighten. “Stevie…”
There’s the sound of engines approaching the cabin. I push her off my lap urgently and stand. My hand goes to my gun.
“It’s alright, it’s your bike,” she tells me in her sweet soft voice, “and the truck your friends were driving.”
With my hand on the butt of my gun, I walk to the window, standing at the side and peering out. She’s not wrong.
Saved? Well, maybe. Pushing thoughts about what they interrupted out of my head, I focus on the scene in front of me.
I’m not too happy to see the prospect swinging his leg over my ride, hoping he rode carefully up the rutted drive else he won’t be getting his patch. Seeing there are no immediately apparent new dents in the fairing, I check to see who else has come visiting. It’s only Wills. Christ, how could I have forgotten it’s already Saturday? Days seem to have flown past, Stevie’s company is that good.
My cock, realising it won’t see any action, has deflated at the sound and sight of the prospects. Half of me thinks I had a lucky escape, being pulled back from the brink of making a mistake I’ll only regret, while the other half is cursing them for their timing. Mind you, it could have been worse. I could have been balls deep in her when they’d turned up.
“Hope you rode fuckin’ carefully,” I snarl, as Dan is first through the door.
“Course I did.” He chucks me my keys, I catch them one handed. “She’s a beaut, man.”
“Still got that rattle,” Stevie sings out behind me.
Dan’s eyes narrow. “Ain’t got no rattle.”
I sigh. I can’t hear it either, but I might get Pyro to take a look at some point. Right now, I’m curious as to why he’s brought it. Turns out I don’t even have to ask.
“Prez wants you back at the compound. He’s called church for six.”
The reference to the hour makes me glance at the old-fashioned clock over the mantelpiece, it might have ticked its way through a fair number of years but seems to keep good time. The big hand’s already close to five. I’ll have to get moving if I want to get there on time.
“We’re going to stay here while you’re gone. If that’s alright with you, Stevie?” Dan continues.
Stevie dips and raises her head. I walk over to her, shoving down the strange impulse to lean over and kiss her. “I won’t be long. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Take your time. I’ll be fine. I really don’t need a babysitter.”
She probably doesn’t, but I’m not leaving her on her own. Dan raises his chin and taps the gun in his belt. A signal he’s prepared for anything. Wills, just entering, carrying some bags, jerks his head in a similar confirmation.
I close the door behind me on the way out, pausing before getting on my bike, shaking my head as I think about what they had interrupted. All for the best.
I get on my bike, start the engine, and once away from the hard-to-navigate road, enjoy the ride and the fresh air rushing past, realising I’ve missed having it available. Last time I hadn’t ridden for a few days was when I’d been holed up in the hospital, that time I nearly died.
I’m fully recovered now, though it took some time to get back to full fitness. The memory, however, lingers.
I’m no stranger to bullets flying, and half expect one day one will take me out. Living this life, no one would think it extraordinary. What I hadn’t realised was that it would be something invisible to the naked eye that could take me down. I could neither evade nor fight it. Having done the impossible and unexpected and come around, it’s left me with various considerations. One, how fragile life is, another how I should relish every moment now given to me, but there’s a part of me which wonders, why? Why was I saved? Why was I brought back? Was there a purpose or reason, or was it just how my cards fell?
Not wanting to waste any precious minute was part of the reason I got involved with Sally so fast. My mortality had been brought home to me, and I live every day thinking I’m on borrowed time.
The memory of how close I’d come to leaving this life makes me appreciate today’s ride even more. I notice the little things, like how it gets noticeably warmer as I descend in altitude. By the time I reach the city I’m wiping sweat from my brow. The sweater I’m wearing over my t-shirt too heavy now. First thing I do when I reach the compound is tear it off.
“Beef!” Pyro calls out, also just pulling in on his bike. �
�How are the mountains?”
“All good,” I reply. I wait for him to draw closer. “Getting to feel like home already.”
“It strange living with a blind bitch?”
Strange? Nah. “Half the time you wouldn’t know there was anything different about her,” I tell him, seriously. “I don’t want to kill her yet if that’s what you’re asking.”
Dutifully, he laughs. “Oh, by the way, been checking in with the vet. Max is progressing nicely, as he put it.”
I thank him, then, following his lead, I grab a beer from Beaver who’s bartending, then walk into church. As I take out my phone to drop it into the basket, I notice I’ve made it just in time.
Pyro and I are the last in. Planting my ass on the spare seat at the bottom of the table, it hits me this is my first time in the Colorado church. Things have happened so fast in the week that I’ve been here. I wait to see how different or similar it is to the ones we hold in Tucson.
“Ok, settle down.” Demon’s mild knocking of the gavel on the table has the desired effect. “Some of you,” he looks pointedly at Thunder and Mace, “already know why I’ve interrupted your Saturday. The rest of you need to be brought up to speed.”
I sit up straighter. What’s coming for us now? I get a twitchy feeling in my gut, especially when the prez’s eyes land on me.
“You got any more information out of the woman?”
I respond to his direct question, “Nah, sorry Prez. I’ve tried pushing her, but she’s staying dumb.”
“There’s a good reason for that.” Demon pinches the bridge of his nose, then shakes his head. “Had a visit yesterday. The local prez of the Wretched Soulz. Filled me in on a few details.”
My eyes sharpen. What the fuck has Stevie got to do with the dominant MC whose area covers a large part of the states and beyond? Any MC setting up in the dominant’s territory does so only with its blessing. Satan’s Devils coexist by permission, and for the most part, have a friendly arrangement with them.
Having let the importance of his visitor sink in, Demon resumes, “You’ve all heard of the Warped Jokers?”
“Club out of LA, aren’t they?” Cad asks. “Into some bad shit from what I’ve heard.”
Most, including myself, nod. Unlike the Satan’s Devils who’ve got a rep we don’t nowadays deserve, the Warped Jokers live up to every citizen’s nefarious expectations of what an MC gets up to. Drugs, guns, extortion. If it can be named they’re probably up to their necks in it. We might not approve, but we turn a blind eye. Live and let live—our motto as far as clubs like that are concerned. As we don’t have an LA chapter, we don’t often cross paths with the Warped Jokers.
“Feds have busted them. Half of them are in prison awaiting trial, the rest out on bail.”
That’s news I haven’t heard. I sit up straighter, the dots joining fast in my head.
“It’s a RICO indictment.”
Christ! That will take out the whole club if proven. Every fucking member will go down and for a very long time. RICO. The word no MC wants to hear. It’s the way feds take down organised crime. Doesn’t matter if he never had his hand anywhere near a gun, if they think a killing or robbery was planned from the top, everyone in the club is guilty by association in the eyes of that law. Twenty-year sentences will be handed out, the club’s assets seized.
I’ve got a horrible feeling I’m right, enough signs are there. Hoping I’m going to be contradicted, I state, “Stevie’s a witness in the case.”
Demon nods. “The star witness.”
I don’t like this. Don’t like it at all. “Why come to you, Demon? Why tell you?” The bad feeling in my gut worsens.
“We knew there was a leak somewhere, and that someone knew where she was and had eyes on her. Beef, you were clocked when you rode her around town as we thought you might be.”
I swear my heart stops beating. “You confirmed where she is?”
“Nah. Not until I had this meeting. I wanted to get us together to decide what to do.”
With a thump my vital organ starts working again, and my lungs take in oxygen once more. But maybe it’s just a temporary reprieve.
I hardly dare ask the question that’s on the tip of my tongue, but I need to know the answer. “Why are the Wretched Soulz involved, and why are they trying to find her?”
Chapter Twenty
It’s not just me who wants to hear the answer. Everyone’s sitting forward, their heads craned to face the prez sitting at the top of the table. The answer most likely is that they want her taken out of the equation so she can’t testify, the least possible response is that the dominant is fed up with the Warped Jokers and want her kept alive, and use her to get rid of a thorn in their side.
Demon’s eyes flare, and his mouth twists. “They want to make sure she doesn’t turn up in court.”
My hand smashes down on the table. “Why, Prez? Why are they protecting those motherfuckers? We all know what they’re like. Wouldn’t we be better off without them?”
Demon lurches ending up hunched over the table, both his fists come crashing down on the wood. “We’re all bikers, aren’t we? We’re all living on the wrong side of the line. Some of us just with a foot or two over it, but the spectrum is wide. The Warped Jokers just happen to be at the far end of it. Feds get one success, they’ll be looking for more. No one wants eyes on our business, no one wants dirt being dug up. Whether we like it or not, the Warped Jokers are a legitimate club set up with the dominant’s permission. They’re our biker brothers.”
They’re not my fucking brothers. And there’s one thing we haven’t discussed.
“What did they do, Prez? You’re suggesting we off a woman to let them walk free. What fuckin’ crime are you proposing we help cover up?” I realise there’s something else too. “And how can a fuckin’ blind woman be a credible witness? Surely their lawyer could shred her in court. Surely you aren’t suggesting we hand her over?”
Demon stands so fast his chair falls over backward. His palms flat on the table he looms over making me pleased there’s distance between us. Beside me, Hellfire, Demon’s dad and previous president sucks in an audible breath.
“I’m not suggesting fuckin’ anything. If you think for one second I’d condone killing an innocent woman, or anyone, who’s done nothing wrong but tell the truth, then you’re not a fit for this chapter. I don’t care if Drummer sent you here, I’ll be sending you back.”
The rest of the brothers look like they’re watching a tennis match, their heads turning one way and the other, checking me then Demon. I suspect they’re wondering if we’re going to settle this with our fists.
Thunder’s hand shoots out and grasps Demon’s arm. “We’re not on the side of the fuckin’ Jokers, Demon. Think you ought to explain that. And you, Beef,” he turns and meets my stare head on, “you don’t know the workings of this chapter, don’t know Demon’s approach. I suggest you hold back on your accusations until after you’ve heard everything Prez has got to say.”
Hellfire speaks from beside me, “If this club raised a finger against an innocent, I’d be the first to walk out.” He doesn’t face me as he says it.
I realise I’ve jumped in too fast. They’re right, I don’t know this chapter or how Demon leads it. I took the silence around me as agreement for anything he proposed, including harming Stevie. I drop my head into my hands, then look up. “Coming to a different chapter isn’t easy. You’re all brothers, but you roll a different way. Likewise, you don’t know me either. I apologise, Demon. I meant no offence.”
Slowly, very slowly, the tension leaves Demon’s arms. As he straightens, Mace slips out of his seat and discreetly picks Demon’s chair up. When the prez is re-seated, he dips his head. “Apology accepted. Now, if you let me, I’ll answer your questions with what I was able to find out.” His hand pushes his long hair back from his face, and he sighs. “Got some discussions necessary to decide, as a club, where we take this. But for that, you need facts.”
“Fuck knows why they thought it was a good idea, but the Warped Jokers decided to go down the old-fashioned route. A bank holdup. Things didn’t go as planned, one of the customers decided to be a hero, received a bullet for his pains. They’d taken their eyes off the cashier who got shot when she went for the panic button. Another customer tried to disarm one of the Jokers and managed to pull his mask off.” Demon breaks off and looks grim. “There were five customers and two cashiers in the bank at the time. Seven potential witnesses. The Joker whose face was revealed decided he didn’t want any left alive, except for the blind girl who couldn’t see anything.”
“They were right, weren’t they? She couldn’t see. Couldn’t tell who they were. Whether they were black, white or fuckin’ purple,” Rusty says, his brow creasing. “How the fuck could she be a witness?”
“It’s not what she saw, but what she heard,” I tell them, not even having to think about it. Living with her, seeing how her other senses compensate for the loss of her sight, I can well understand it.
“Heard, felt and smelled,” Demon agrees. “It’s not like RIP to be chatty, but I get the feeling he was impressed. I asked the question, he answered. Smell, leather, oil and sweat. They weren’t wearing cuts but had been. She suggested they could be bikers, which got the cops looking in that direction. There was more than that, her memory is spot on. They hadn’t realised, but they’d used a name, One-Eye. Cops homed in on the Jokers. Got them in a line-up, she identified them by their voices.”
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