Outlaw's Ride: An MC Romance

by Carter Steele

  “C’mon. That got me in the mood for something sweet.” I caught her chin with my forefinger and cocked my head back to the bike with an easy smile that told her she had nothing to worry about while around me. Sarah bit away her smile, despite whatever dark cloud that always seemed to hover in her mind I could tell her spirits had been lifted even if only for a little while.

  We stopped briefly at a famous bakery to pick up some German shortbread cookies then rode to the Baltimore inner harbor area to eat them. We watched the water taxis shuttle tourists around, the all-sail Civil War ship bob and sway and the colorful dragon-shaped paddle boats wander aimlessly.

  Looking over at her and seeing the contentment on her face as the warm, mid-day sun bathed us made it all feel so normal. If I hadn’t been wearing my cut, and she hadn’t had that purple scarf on a warm day we could’ve passed as just another tourist couple dotting the scenery with nothing but time and nowhere to go. When she glanced back at me I could tell that she was feeling it too. It was surprisingly nice to lose ourselves in mundanity.

  “Teach me how to sign,” I said, but with my hands and not my mouth.

  Sarah’s eyes went wide, then she paused for a moment realizing what I was trying to say and noiselessly laughed. She wouldn’t tell me what I actually said, but apparently I was pretty far off the mark.

  “I’ve never seen you laugh before,” I said. It didn’t matter that it was at my expense I still enjoyed the look of that kind of unbridled joy in her face. Sarah immediately got self conscious and buttoned up her emotions. It was incredible how quickly she could turn all that off.

  “Hey, I didn’t mean—” I wasn’t sure what I meant but fortunately I didn’t have to finish the sentence. She slowly signed a small sequence at me, then mouthed the words.

  “Hello. My name is Sarah?” I asked, having no idea what each word meant. That didn’t bother me because I was becoming an expert at studying her lips.

  Sarah nodded, a barely perceptible smile creased her lips. Then she motioned that I should try it.

  I exhaled through my nose and gave it a shot. After several failed attempts she reached over and shaped my rough hands into the proper positions. Her smooth fingers were a warming balm on my calluses, and if anything it actually made it more difficult to learn the sequence. Part of me wondered if I were fucking up just to get her to touch me.

  Finally finding a sense of focus I took off my heavy, metal rings and gave it an honest try.

  Her smile deepened, then with a mischievous glint in her eyes she scribbled something down to show me. “Good. But your name isn’t Sarah.”

  “Alright. Alright,” I chuckled, slicking my hair back and glancing around to see if any of the dozens of people in the area had caught that. The park we sat in wasn’t private by any means, but it seemed like everyone was lazily passing through. No one took any interest in a biker or a mute girl, and that was fine by us. “What’s the word for Wreck?”

  Sarah thought about that for a minute. The puzzlement on her face made it obvious that she’d never considered that question before. Finally she gave an exaggerated shrug with upturned eyes, having no idea what to tell me.

  “How ‘bout…” I paused, wondering if I should tell her. Ah, fuck it. What could it hurt? “How ‘bout Stewart?”

  “Stuart?” She wrote, equal parts confusion and interest creased her brow.

  “With a double-U, but yeah.” I brushed down my beard’s flyaways from the harbor breeze. “I’m a mutt and some part of me is Scottish.”

  Sarah looked appreciative that I would share something like that with her, then a little guilty for some reason.

  “It’s not that big a deal really.” I said trying to put her a little more at ease. “I just don’t go by it anymore. Once we get MC names that’s pretty much it. Fuck I don’t even know if I know what Yoga and Buck’s real names actually are.”

  Sarah signed the word for my name then showed me how to do it. After I did, signed the whole sentence correctly she flashed me a small smile.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Stewart,” She mouthed the words as she signed it, then stuck out her hand to shake.

  “Yeah,” I agreed, taking her hand. Pausing, I ran my thumb gently along the back of her hand. My gaze drifted upwards to capture her eyes. The sun caught dark flecks in her irises that I hadn’t seen before glint, almost twinkle. God, this woman was fucking beautiful. “It is.”

  Our lesson was interrupted by a family attempting some kind of picnic lunch with the checkered blanket, basket of food, and cooler, the whole nine yards. What might’ve been a cute idea originally was quickly turning into a disaster for the overburdened couple as their three screaming children became unruly, refusing to stay put. The baby cried inconsolably, the toddler screamed, throwing whatever he could get his hands on, and the preschool-aged girl ran to each passerby introducing herself, only to be yelled at by one of her fathers not to talk to strangers. While I could always enjoy watching a good human trainwreck, the cacophony of shrill wails, soothing baritone and angry scolds was too much for us. Sarah and I decided it was time to move on.

  After a little walking Sarah slowed to a crawl by the entrance of the Maryland Science Museum. When I picked her up she’d told me that we could do whatever I wanted, but after food and a tour of the inner harbor area I was good. Never caring all that much about the science of things so I wouldn’t have spared this place a second glance but it was pretty apparent that Sarah was into it so who was I to deprive her?

  I cocked my head toward the door with raised eyebrows asking her if she wanted to head in. She replied with a sheepish bite of her lip and hopeful eyes, but didn’t want to say yes for some reason.

  It was enough to make me wonder what Patrick had told her about our arrangement. Were there rules she had to follow that I didn’t know about? If there were that shit was stopping right the fuck now.

  “Hey, this isn’t going to work if we only do the shit I want to do. I’m not that cultured of a guy and I don’t know much about the area. So unless there’s a Stevie Ray Vaughan concert in town I’m going to need your help as a local to show me what’s worth checking out,” I said, then glanced back at the museum. “This place worth a damn?”

  Sarah took in the enormous glass windows and what looked like either free standing weather gauging equipment or some kind of art installation. I could see the yearning to enter in her eyes, but patiently waited for her to write out what she had to say in her pad.

  “I’ve only been once as a kid. I liked it back then, but it looks pretty busy today.”

  “Fuck it,” I said with a half smirk. “We’re bigger than those little bastards. I’ll just push them out of the way.”

  She seemed to visibly relax with that, then grabbed me roughly by the hand and charged us into the building. After some wary looks from the ticket seller at my vest we went inside. I couldn’t help but smile at her excited zeal as she took in all the exhibits and demo stations.

  My smile was tinged with a realization that despite how smart and curious she was Patrick probably kept her cooped up in that damn building most of the time. She’d either clam up or change the subject whenever I occasionally fished for info about what it was like living at the laundromat or working for Patrick in general.

  It made my heart hurt to think of her as the caged bird she was.

  I didn’t know what was going to happen with my MC, and how things were going to shake out with our scumbag employer. There were so many factors beyond my control. Things could go sour at any point and we might have to take off without any warning or hell even if they didn’t when we were done and got our money we’d have to move on regardless. I had no idea how much time I had left with Sarah. A day, a week, a few hours, who the fuck knows?

  As shitty of a deal as it was I just had to enjoy the borrowed time we had together and hope everything worked out for us and for her in the end.

  I was truly surprised at how interesting they made all the displays as
we walked around. There were several times where I was even pulling her into some hands-on bullshit involving engineering puzzles or games with lights and sounds. Why wasn’t science ever this interesting when I was young?

  The hours flew by as we made our way through each floor then chilled out in the planetarium where it was so damn relaxing that we both may have knocked out for a few minutes. Throughout the whole building though, nothing lit up Sarah’s face more than the Seven Wonders of the World exhibition. She marveled at all the pictures, scaled replicas, audio and visual displays and poured over every info-dump plaque.

  That’s when I saw the true extent of her wanderer’s heart. It was written all over her face and mannerisms. She craved to see the rest of the world. A crazy idea came to me then. What if I asked her to come with us when this was all over? Would she come? The guys might not like it, but I could figure out something with them. I knew deep down that neither of those were the real hurdle.

  The ultimate question that mattered was if Patrick would let her go.

  When I turned back to Sarah she’d somehow found a piece of paper and a pen and was drawing a picture of a condor flying over the ancient mountain-topped, Peruvian city of Machu Picchu.

  “If you could pick one of the seven to visit, would this be the one?” I asked.

  Sarah finished the picture with some final flourishes, looked it over, then folded it up and slid it into my front pocket. She looked at me with a demure smile then nodded as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

  Peru, huh? I’d remember that.

  “Hey,” I said with a surprising degree of regret. We’d been there for what had to be half a day and it felt like we hadn’t scratched the surface of what the enormous place had to offer. It’d take us at least a few more visits to really see everything. “They’re closing up soon and I need to stop at the gift shop.”

  Sarah gave me a wary glance, then quickly scribbled out a note. “Never took you for a memento kind of guy.”

  “I’m not,” I snorted at the thought, then added, “Buck collects spoons. I know it’s ridiculous, but everywhere we go that motherfucker makes us stop just so he can add to his collection.”

  The stunned look on Sarah’s face was priceless. She didn’t believe me at first so I pulled out my phone and showed her a picture of his collection. The spoons were all securely in their holders in a leather suitcase. Sarah’s eyes went wide as she took in the absurdity of the picture. Buck was up to thirty or so spoons now. Soon he’d need a larger case to hold them. Sarah laughed, then mouthed the word, OK and led me downstairs to the gift shop.

  14

  Jezebel

  Patrick’s work computer softly hummed in front of me. I could almost feel the expectant unblinking gaze of the room’s cameras watching what I’d do next. My fingers hovered over the keyboard with reluctance. Would I fulfill my end of the deal? Would I fold and feign ignorance?

  I’m so sorry, Wreck.

  “His real name is Stewart,” I typed.

  My every keystroke was a betrayal of Wreck’s trust, yet one bringing me closer to the end of all this.

  Patrick wasn’t here when I arrived, but he rarely was at this hour unless there were new guests to meet or entertain. He didn’t need to be physically standing over my shoulder for me to feel his omnipresence. It was my first night into this new arrangement where I would spend my days with Wreck and my nights back at the laundromat. There was no way that Patrick wouldn’t be watching this live through the room’s cameras.

  Probably while sitting in the living room of my family’s home.

  The realization simultaneously made me feel furious, and utterly powerless. Forcing myself to finish, I recounted all the major details like where we went, what we did and who, if anyone, we talked to. I had to include several personal things like real names of the bikers, whatever I was able to find out about their personalities, and some of the things they liked. Patrick knew that most of the information I would be collecting by virtue of proximity if nothing else would on Wreck himself so I had to write in detail about him.

  That was by far the worst part. I liked the other MC members enough, but several of them I’d never even talked to before so it was a little easier to justify collecting their information. Wreck though… He was a man who literally saved my life and this was how I was repaying him?

  The little mercies I could give were in what I left out of the day’s report. Patrick couldn’t see or hear everything while we were out so there was a bit of wiggle room in what I could omit. Teaching Wreck sign language was one of the things Patrick didn’t have to know about. It wouldn’t be enough to keep Wreck from harm though. I was standing in the pouring rain holding an umbrella trying to keep a whole field dry. My acts of rebellion seemed so small in the face of everything I was actually giving Patrick. Everything I wrote today seemed relatively tame or insignificant, but that didn’t matter. Patrick knew that Wreck would eventually slip up and tell me something he could use to crush Wreck and his MC when he was finished with them. When that happened I’d earn my freedom from Patrick and this whole life.

  I’d be able to go home.

  It was late and I was all alone with my thoughts which were spiraling into guilt. Pushing myself back from the computer, it was suddenly clear how much I needed a break. I hadn’t been working for very long, but this kind of work taxed me much more than anything I’d ever done before. I felt emotionally exhausted. Describing my day in agonizing detail for a man who would leverage it against someone I was coming to genuinely care about churned my stomach. If I didn’t get some fresh air and clear my head I was going to be sick.

  Opening the office door, the silence of the second floor hallway was oppressive. With exception to a few of the girls who had just finished working their regulars in their rooms, the building was completely empty. Peak times during the week for us were typically noon and five PM. Men would slip out for their lunch breaks and between work and returning home to get a quickie with their favorite girl Evenings in the middle of the week were typically quiet, but for whatever reason tonight even more so.

  A few steps into the hallway and I saw one of the doors shove open. I lowered my head, but didn’t try to hide in any way. As was typically the custom a man, slightly out of breath and satisfied with his fuck, made a beeline for the front door barely noticing his surroundings as he left.

  They couldn’t wait to get in, and couldn’t stand to linger when they were done.

  That was fine. Everyone here knew what this place was all about. It was only when I passed the room that I realized who it belonged to.

  “Hey Jez,” Monica cooed with a weak half smile. The raven-haired girl lounged topless against the headboard of the bed propped up by pillows, counting the stack of cash she’d just received. The bruises on her arms almost made me feel bad for her, but considering the recent revelation that it was her that betrayed me with the memory stick I couldn’t muster any sympathy.

  I signed nothing and narrowed my eyes at the woman who could have gotten me killed or worse.

  “Jesus. What crawled up your ass?” Monica’s face soured at my open disdain for her. I couldn’t ever call her a friend by any means, but she’d always at least made the attempt to talk to me unlike most of the other girls who treated me like I had a contagious disease. None of the girls really knew the whole story, only that I stuck my nose where it didn’t belong and got what I deserved. It was an open secret and a constant reminder that they shouldn’t ever do the same. Monica though, she was supposed to be one of the good ones.

  Now, looking her over in the warm mood-lighting I could see her for what she really was... Patrick’s faithful puppet. She wasn’t friendly because she liked me. No, she was simply keeping tabs, spying on me to him.

  “If you’re going to just stare at me like a fucking creep I’m going to have to charge you the full rate, honey,” Monica said, looking at me with a flat expressionless indifference, then she got up on sore legs, tucked her mone
y into a drawer and walked over to me. She haunted the doorway a foot away from me, completely comfortable in her near nakedness. What did she have to be ashamed of? At least she wasn’t a poor, mute girl. “What is your problem, Jez?”

  The anger in me boiled in my eyes. I opened my mouth to speak, but my lips refused to form any words. I wanted to scream, to demand answers but my body rebelled. Too much submission training over the years prevented me from being confrontational. What was I worth to her? Did she make a little more off each client, get some preferential treatment, or did she enjoy the power of knowing that she was making me suffer?

  Instead I simply stared because that was all I could do.

  “Oh.” Monica’s eyes flashed at the rip in my scarf then back up. Not even the remotest hint of remorse on her features. “I always wondered where you hid it. Not even Patrick knew.”

  I exhaled hard at the admission, grinding my teeth and clenching my jaw until it ached. I could feel my eyes twitch slightly at the corners.

  Why? I forced the word silently. The way my lips parted must’ve made it look like an animal bearing its gritted teeth at a predator.

  “For real? Oh you sweet, naïve girl.” Monica snorted with upturned, incredulous eyes, then her face lost all joviality. Her face and body relaxed into such a callous coldness that I could almost feel the room’s heaters kick back on to compensate. “Why the fuck do you think?”

  And with that Monica slammed the door in my face.

  Utterly dejected, I walked down the hall and out of the building. It wasn’t until I stopped that the full weight of the past twenty-four hours settled and began to crush me. Alone in the dark I dropped my knees to the pavement by the dumpster and began to weep uncontrollably.