by Lane Hart
“I just wanted them to stop Leroy, that’s all! Not get anyone in trouble! They already knew about Rita’s connection to him. How do you think I found her? A cop gave me her previous address from the detective’s report, and I talked to her old landlord to get the new one!”
“Fuck.” Abel drops his hand from my face and spins away from me.
“I can go back and talk to the cops, tell them Leroy probably killed himself or that he left the country!”
Abel scoffs before he goes and slumps down in the chair at the kitchen table. “You actually think they would listen to you?”
“Yes. The cop, he was a friend of mine, and he owed me a favor. I’m the reason they reopened the case, so if I talk to him and have a little cash, he would probably get the detective to close it again.”
“Jesus Christ.” Abel presses the heel of his hands to his eyes. “Murder cases don’t work like that!”
“Trust me, I’ll make it right,” I tell him as I go over and kneel beside his chair.
Abel lifts his head and stares down at me with a dark look that scares me more than Dubois’s ever did. “You better. You fucking hear me, Selina? If the cops don’t back off on this, they could bring the entire MC down.”
“I won’t let that happen,” I promise him. “Come with me to Cape Cartwright tomorrow and I’ll prove it to you.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Cory
The day after Abel left, I canceled my appointment with one of my regulars because I wasn’t in the mood to touch anyone but the biker.
And that probably won’t even happen again.
How could I let myself start having feelings for a man I knew was never going to be ready for an open relationship with me? That’s one of the main reasons that I do what I do, taking money from guys who want to get fucked and then pretend it never happened. By accepting their money, it’s a simple transaction, making it clear that there are no feelings involved whatsoever.
Still, even if it’s pointless, thoughts of Abel invade me morning, noon, and especially all night when I’m lying alone in my bed thinking about him.
My cell phone rings a little before 10:00 p.m. I know it’s not going to be the Savage King, but I still scramble to yank my phone off the charging cord to answer. Seeing my sister’s name on the screen is almost as shocking.
“Rita?” I say as soon as I press the button and put the phone up to my ear.
“You actually answered on the first try,” she says in surprise.
“Ah, yeah. I was getting ready to turn in early tonight,” I respond. Most of the time, she calls while I’m either in class, getting my dick sucked, or fucking someone, so I can’t answer. “Everything okay?” I ask since she doesn’t call me much lately, not after she found out I lied to her about Nolan leaving for prison and not up and ghosting her five years ago. How was I supposed to know he was the love of her life? Besides, fate eventually brought them back together. It just took a while.
I try to think about how I would feel if Abel had up and left yesterday morning without saying goodbye and know it would have sucked to not have that closure.
I’m such an asshole.
“Nolan is sort of freaking out, which is making me freak out.”
“Oh yeah?” I ask, sitting up in concern. “Did he hurt you?”
“No, of course not! I just…wanted to talk to someone and still don’t really know many people around here yet.”
“Yeah, I get it.”
“Although, I did meet a woman last night who said she spent the night with you…”
“Huh?”
“Selina? That name ring a bell, or do you go through so many girls you can’t remember all their names.”
The truth is, Selina was the first woman I was with in about a month or more. I haven’t had time to juggle pretend dating with appointments and studying here recently.
“You met Selina? Beautiful, outgoing brunette?”
“That’s her. She’s apparently with Abel now?”
“Uh-huh. What about her?”
“We were just talking at the bar last night. She’s from Cape Cartwright too.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. She was dating a guy from the MC that…”
“The Rebel Henchmen?” I say in disbelief. Shit, hadn’t I mentioned them that night in the hotel?
“She was, and that’s sort of the reason why Nolan is freaking out. A detective from back home showed up here in town and was asking about when we last saw Leroy…”
My sister didn’t need to tell me that Nolan blew that son of a bitch away or how. It was obvious he’s long dead, which is a good thing. Better than the big bastard hurting Rita. And for a second, I can’t help but make a comparison to Leroy and Hayworth. Some fuckers should be put down once they get to be over six five, two fifty, and crazy as shit.
“The cops are probably just making sure they covered all their bases,” I assure my sister. “Unless his body shows up somewhere, they don’t have a case.”
“How did you…” Rita starts.
“I’m not stupid, sis. Nolan would do anything for you. Even I would’ve killed the fucker if you had told me about him.”
She doesn’t say anything, but I can hear her sniffle, reminding me of all the times growing up. Right after our parents were killed in the house fire especially, I would hear my sister crying at night. I cried too, for her and them, just silently so she wouldn’t know.
“It’ll be fine,” I assure her. “Tell you what, I’m going to come up there this weekend to visit.”
“You don’t have to do that, not with exams right around the corner.”
I wince since that’s a reminder of a shitty discussion for another time about how I won’t be graduating in May. “We can go out and take your mind off things for a little while.” Not to mention that I wouldn’t mind trying to see Abel again, even if it’s unlikely.
“Okay, but only if you won’t get behind in any of your classes,” Rita agrees.
Then, as if my thoughts summoned him, the phone beeps with an incoming call. I pull the screen from my ear to see who it is. I’m shocked but happy to see Abel’s name.
“I’ll be fine,” I tell her. “See you late Friday or early Saturday,” I say since maybe, just maybe, I can see Abel Friday night if he’s already calling.
“Okay, bye,” Rita says before ending the call so I can switch to the other line, debating what to say. Instead of letting him know I’m happy to hear from him, I say, “Why can’t you send a dirty message about wanting to fuck me like every other man?”
There’s silence on the other end. Finally, he says, “Cory?”
“Yeah.”
“Hey, um, this is Abel.”
“I know,” I reply. “So? Don’t you sext?”
“Sorry. I just…I wanted to hear your voice.”
Goddamn him.
No matter how hard I try to play it cool, he always throws me off my game.
“Jesus. Fine. How can I hang up on you when you say shit like that?” I grumble as I lie back on my pillows. “You lick Selina’s pussy with that sweet mouth of yours?”
Abel thankfully laughs at that, losing some of his seriousness. “Yeah, I do, actually.”
“Lucky woman.”
He groans. “That woman is going to be the death of me.”
“Yeah? How so?” I ask. “Keeping secrets about her relationship with the Rebel Henchmen?”
“How did you fucking know about that?”
“My sister actually called me tonight. We were just hanging up when you called.”
“Fuck. That means Nolan is going to be riding my ass about it if she tells him.”
“Don’t think Nolan goes that way, but I wouldn’t mind riding that ass.”
“Funny,” he grits out, not sounding amused.
“Look, did you tell Selina you came to see me?”
“No. I told her I…hooked up with someone, just not who.”
“Or my gender?” I
guess, and he doesn’t respond. “I didn’t think so. Which means you can’t get pissed at Selina for her secrets when you have your own, right?”
“I guess so,” he agrees with a sigh.
“I’m glad you called me instead of texting, asking for a dick pic.” I start to ask him about Friday night but don’t want to push him on it yet. Instead, I’ll give him a few days to miss me, miss us being together before I tell him I want to see him next weekend.
“People don’t call each other anymore, do they?” Abel asks. “Sorry. I don’t use my phone much, period.”
“I don’t mind.”
“So, ah, I’ve got to go. I’m taking Selina to Cape Cartwright to settle some shit tomorrow.”
“Go easy on her,” I tell him. “I may have only known her for a night, but there’s not a mean bone in her body.”
“Yeah, I agree. Later.”
The call ends before I can even say goodbye, and I’m not the least bit surprised he hung up on me.
But at least he called…
Abel
My phone buzzes in my pocket, but I ignore it, knowing it’s probably Nolan again. It’s not like Hugo has returned any of my calls or texts yet.
Nolan probably wants to talk about Selina, and right now, I’m with her in an enclosed trailer Cannon let me borrow from the Harley dealership, wondering if we’ll end up making things better or worse in Cape Cartwright.
First, we hit up Dubois’s trailer to grab some things, including the dead man’s bike. I can tell that Selina was fucked-up about going back to his place, seeing his things. But now that she knows the truth about what an evil bastard he really was, hopefully she doesn’t miss him as much. In fact, I don’t want her to think about the other man at all. She has no idea how lucky she was that he never hurt her or let his buddies use her like they did Rita.
I wanted to go inside the house with her while she talked to the cop, but she insisted on talking to him alone at first and had me wait at the trailer, assuring me that she won’t have to touch him to get his agreement.
She’s got about five more seconds before I go in and check on her to make sure she didn’t give in and fuck him to try and seal some deal. That shit won’t fly. We’ll figure out something else before I let her go down that road.
Thankfully, she comes out smiling with a clean-cut man behind her, giving me a thumbs-up.
Relieved, and hoping we can trust this fucker, I go inside to start undoing the restraint clamps. I’m rolling the Harley-Davidson Fat Bob down the ramp by the time they reach the trailer.
“She’s beautiful,” the man says.
Selina drops the keys into his hand, telling him, “The title is in the saddlebag. I’m sure you can find a notary to backdate and forge it, right?”
“Yeah, easy,” he agrees.
“Case closed?” I ask to make sure there’s no misunderstanding once the bike is on the street.
“Yes, for the second time.” He holds out his palm to shake mine. “The detective was only doing what Selina insisted on at the time.”
“So she said,” I reply, unable to believe she could have that much sway with the cops. But then again, she’s got me wrapped around her finger already when I’ve never kept a woman around for more than a weekend…
“As long as that big bastard is long gone, we’re all good,” the cop whispers.
I nod rather than give any sort of verbal agreement. I don’t know the guy and don’t trust that he isn’t recording the entire conversation.
“Take care of yourself, girl,” he tells Selina before the two hug each other as I close the back of the trailer.
“Thanks again, Dwight.”
Once we’re back in her beat-up truck that I insisted on driving, I say, “How did you get to be such good friends with a cop?”
“We’ve known each other since high school,” she replies. “He owes me. Turn right at the next street. There’s one more stop we need to make.”
“For what?” I ask as I follow her directions.
“You’ll see. Anyway, I was Dwight’s beard.” She doesn’t say anything else, making me glance over at her to see if I heard her correctly.
“His beard?”
“Yep.” She flashes me a smile before telling me to take a turn I almost miss when she adds, “We were friends all through school, and I had the biggest crush on him. Was persistent too until he finally confessed to me that he was gay. We went to prom together since it’s a small town and he didn’t want anyone to know. Six years later and he’s still sneaking off to bars hours out of town to meet and hook up with men.”
“Huh. And you never told anyone?”
She laughs. “Not until now, but I think his secret will be safe with you, right?”
“Who the fuck would I tell?” I snap at her.
“Exactly. Turn left at the next light.”
“Where are we going?” I ask. We spent the morning at her dead lover’s place and then bribed a cop. I’ve about had enough of this town.
I hear the tinkling of more keys. “Dubois had a storage unit.”
“Anything good in it?”
“Oh yeah,” she says but doesn’t elaborate.
I pull into the storage facility, maneuvering through the tight spaces slowly with the trailer behind us. We both wave at the attendant at the front before Selina directs me to the right row and unit.
“The next to last one is it.” Selina opens the passenger door. “I really hope he didn’t sell it.”
“Sell what?” I ask as I turn off the truck and follow her to the unit’s door. The key in her hand pops open the padlock, and then we lift the folding door up.
“There it is,” Selina points out excitedly as she goes over and rips the tarp cover off a bike. It’s a Harley-Davidson Heritage Classic, painted blue. It’s really fucking nice. Turning to me, she asks, “If it still runs, will you teach me to ride it?”
“You want to learn to ride a motorcycle?”
She nods. “I do, yes. Dubois always put me off because he didn’t want me dropping one of his bikes and fucking it up. Now, though…”
“Better his bike than mine,” I agree with a chuckle. “Let’s load her up and get her home, then we’ll see about a lesson.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Selina
I love riding with Abel on the back of his motorcycle, clinging to him as we soar through curves, the sense of speed and the proximity of my fragile body to the unforgiving concrete combining into a rare thrill.
When we pull up to the clubhouse and Abel kills the bike, I climb off the back with only the faint hint of a tremor in my thighs.
“You still hot to learn how to ride?” Abel asks as he walks past the front door and goes around the side of the building.
“Yes!” I confirm in excitement. “Are we going to practice here in the parking lot? Why didn’t we bring Dubois’s bike? Are we going to use your bike instead of Dubois’s?”
“Whoa, slow down, Selina,” Abel laughs. “First of all, no one rides my bike but me. You can ride with me anytime, baby girl, but no one just jumps on and takes another man’s bike. For the first question, no, we’re not practicing in the parking lot,” he adds as he leads me behind the building, past the back porch with the grills and smokers, then past the sandpit with the volleyball net and toward a huge open field that stretches for at least an acre. “And about Dubois’s bike,” he starts as we walk. “I’m having Winston look at it to make sure it’s safe before I let you on it. He’s the best mechanic around, and you can’t be too safe.”
“Okay, that makes sense,” I agree.
The field has recently been mowed, and as Abel walks around one of the outbuildings, I can see through the open door a riding mower along with some other landscaping equipment. Parked on the other side of the shed are two motorcycles, quite a bit smaller than the ones most of the men in the club ride.
Abel pauses by the first bike, an old, black, beat-up Honda. “This is an old Honda Magna, a 500. W
e keep this piece of shit out here for potential prospects to practice with. No one cares if this ancient warrior gets skinned up. We just spray a little black on her and she’s good as new.”
“Is this the one we’re going to use?” I ask, eager to get started. I can’t wait to hold the handlebars, to actually be in control of all the power I’ve only felt rumbling beneath me from my perch on the back.
“Nah,” Abel says as he moves past it. “We had to replace the original front fork with a slightly longer one, so it affects the way the bike balances. Instead, I want to teach you on this one.” He crouches down to grab a corner of the tarp covering the other motorcycle. With a flourish, he throws it back to reveal a small Harley. “This is a Street Rod. Pretty but not worth much if it’s wrecked.”
The bike is small, but the chrome plating on the engine and exhaust shines as if it had just left the factory floor. The tanks and fenders have been spray-painted with a sparkling, deep red enamel finish that makes the entire machine shine.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper in an exhale as I step back out of the shed, letting Abel push the bike out into the field.
“Yeah, she’s a flashy little thing,” Abel agrees. “Now, put your helmet back on,” he instructs.
Once I’ve got the open-faced helmet situated to his satisfaction, Abel steps back and waves his arm in an invitation to mount the Harley, now sitting at the edge of the field on its kickstand. I can feel the huge, silly grin stretching the corners of my mouth as I throw my leg over the bike, then bounce my ass a couple of times on the seat.
“Easy.” Abel laughs as he comes over and uses the toe of his boot to sweep the kickstand up and out of the way. “Now, keep your feet on the ground on both sides for now,” he tells me as he reaches over and turns the key. He doesn’t crank the bike, instead only turning the key far enough to give the bike power. The headlight activates, and the console lights up, one small gauge showing a large, bright “N.”
“You’ve driven a manual before, right?” Abel asks.
