by A P Foote
They’re just doing their job, trying to get the heavy hitters off the streets, doing everything they can to get the bad guys. I’m not one to keep hate festering within me, if my dying taught me anything it was that life, is way too short.
I’m pissed though. Cass lied to me and has been lying to me the whole time. Putting the club in danger and under the microscope of the FEDs, I can’t ignore that.
“Does Clyde know?” I question, hiding any emotion from him. At least not making any of my emotions evident to him.
He nods, poking and prodding me with his eyes.
Not gonna happen, he isn’t going to be forgiven that easily.
“Okay, he’s kept it hushed for a reason so don’t fuck it up.”
“I won’t. I’m so—”
“Get out.” The words sting before they even slip from my mouth. His brows furrow, his Adam’s apple bobs, and his face turns a shade of pink.
“Kat, I—”
“Out,” I point at the door, “I need time, you lied to me. I don’t like being lied to, especially about that. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
I can’t look at him, all this FBI talk makes me sick and the fact everyone keeps lying to me is what hurts the most. Staring at his boots my heart starts racing, the anger at his lack of respect for me by not doing what I’ve told him festers, swirling in my core.
He finally steps away, heading for the door and closing it behind him.
Fucking hell, after this run tomorrow. I’m opening the bar back up. I’ll have to call Mitch and get him to head over there early enough to prep for me. Right now I need some fucking sleep, this place has turned into a fucking child’s playground and I have to fix the shit.
Moving from the bed, I lock the door. I don’t want to be bothered, they can find somewhere else to fucking sleep. The bed calls to me and I don’t bother putting clothes on, I just hop right in, bury myself under the plush down comforter, and before I know it I hear nothing, see nothing except the sleep that claims me.
Cass
What the hell was I expecting? I mean she reacted better than I thought she would. I was certain she’d kick my ass or let it be known they had a rat in their midst. Guess I should be grateful she only just kicked me out of her bed.
Walking into the common area, I find Clyde and Dalton perched on stools at a bar table in the corner watching a few of the members bang some whore’s brains out.
Fucking disgusting, and why are these idiots spectating?
Clyde has fucking eyes in the back of his head. I haven’t made a sound, there’s no shadow being casted his way, but he swivels around on the stool to address me.
Dalton does the same thing, but with a shit eating grin plastered on his face.
“So, how’d it go bro?”
Shaking my head, I’ve just admitted to him and cocky ass Clyde that their game is better than mine, but in my head I’ve let Kat burrow so much under my skin that I’d rather be shot in the back than this feeling of a knife to my chest.
Dalton glee falters, “What happened?”
Pulling a stool out I plop onto the freshly re-covered seat. Blowing out a breath I watch both of them. “I told her.”
“You told her what?” Dalton looks confused but this really isn’t the time to come out and say it directly.
I give him my what the fuck do you think face and his mouth forms a giant O shape. Clyde shakes his head in disappointment. “Bro, seriously? Somethings are better left unsaid. Especially with her, she won’t let it go easily.”
“She didn’t seem all that mad at… that. It was more disappointment than anything for me lying to her.” Pausing, everyone takes a swig of beer. “Has she always been this passive?”
Clyde’s face blanches before bursting with laughter. I don’t find this very funny.
“Passive? Bahahaha, that the funniest god damn thing I’ve ever heard. No bro, she’s pissed. Don’t expect for her to talk to you any time soon. In fact, expect her to retaliate. Maybe not in a way that’ll harm you, but she’s going to fuck with you one way or another.”
God I’m such a moron, I should have told her the first day we met. Then again, I couldn’t. I’ve fucked myself.
“So how is this gonna work tomorrow?” Dalton asks before drinking another beer. I’m not liking his drinking, but he’s a grown ass man. I’ve got to let it go.
“Well,” Clyde starts, “we’ll leave in the morning. Ratty will follow behind the pack in the van carrying the goods. We’ll meet the buyers in Goodale, exchange, and come home. Cabe is sitting on The Power; if they make a move we’ll know.”
Sounds easy enough, but I don’t like this Cabe guy. The look on his face when everyone voted against him showed betrayal, and vengeance. I wouldn’t put it past him to retaliate against Clyde for practically forcing him from his position.
Dalton yawns, stretching his arms over his head. “We’ll I’m ready for bed.” He slides from the stool, tossing his bottle into the can. Looking over his shoulder at the three guys taking one girl at the same time. “Maybe that’ll be us soon.” He waggles his eyebrows.
I swear if we weren’t twins, he would have been adopted.
“Good luck with that. She locked the door.”
His shoulders rise and fall, his head dipping between them. “Damn you, Cass.”
Clyde chuckles. “Take my office, there are cots in the closet. Pull three out.” D huffs and puffs the whole way down the hall until disappearing around the corner.
“You clean this place up. I’m turning in.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you got us kicked out of the room, I was gonna have one of the other Prospects do it but, seems like a good punishment for you.” His mouth twists in amusement, brushing past me taking the path my brother did minutes ago.
This is such horse shit.
Kat
The morning proves to be just as much a bitch as last night. My entire body is killing me. My ribs, my throat, my pussy and ass from Dalton and Clyde ravaging my body every way they please.
My bottle of pills is sitting on the nightstand along with a glass of water. Clyde. I knew he had a key to his room, and I didn’t fully intend for them to listen to me when I told them to stay out. I take two from the bottle downing them like candy.
Closing my eyes I wait; I wait for its power to kick in and it does. Inch by inch of my body tingles, the sharp pains from my injuries dulling to an ache.
I can turn my neck better, I can breathe better, I test the pills affects breathing in through my nose and out my mouth.
Better. Making my way out if bed, I head for the closet. Clyde should still have some of my clothes here. Aha! They’re shoved to the back of the closet like I don’t matter but I can’t hold it against him, at least he kept them, he could have just tossed ’em.
My long sleeves are in the very back and I blindly reach for one. Score! Love this one. It’s soft and black, along with a pair of ripped jeans because that’s all I have here.
I throw everything on grabbing a pair of socks in the drawer and my boots by the bed. Once I’m dressed, I head out the door. I’m surprised to find the guys waiting for me in the hall.
“Hey, sunshine!” Dalton spews with his early morning happy go lucky bullshit. How can anyway be this chipper this early.
“You’re not human,” I snicker, closing the door behind me. Dalton towers over me giving me a kiss on the cheek.
“What time are we leaving?” I ask, grabbing Clyde’s hand with a gentle squeeze.
“In about an hour, they’re loading up the van now, gassing the bikes up. We need to run by your house,” he says to me with a don’t argue attitude.
I knew this was coming. In this club you have to ride, it’s expected and I’m no exception.
“On the way?”
“Yeah, on the way,” he agrees, tugging me down the hall. The common room comes into view, men in their cuts mingling about. Some of them kissing their old lady’s goodbye. Going on a run you never k
now what to expect. Mandatories especially, not everyone will be at the exchange, but they’ll be hovering close by if the deal goes sideways. That’s the one thing about Clyde, he doesn’t take any chances when it comes to his family.
Everyone says their goodbyes, leaving behind their loved ones and the ones who think they’re loved. Making our way outside Cass mounts his bike next to Clyde’s as Dalton picks the bike next to his.
I haven’t seen what he rides but I wasn’t expecting… this. It’s a dark blue CVO softail convertible, perfect for long rides. Which makes sense because when I met him, he said he traveled a lot. But what I still don’t know is what they really did before they came here.
Apparently, Cass was FBI, I think rolling my eyes. There has to be more to their history than that. Because I call bull shit on the life story, he told me at about at the diner. I just hope his lies and involvement with me doesn’t clash.
“Ride with me?” Clyde asks, holding his hand up for me to take.
My hand slides into his, swinging my leg over the back and adjusting myself for the ride to my house.
Engines roar to life, with dozens of men revving their engines. The sounds adding dramatics for the rest of the atmosphere along with the smell of winter approaching, the smoke from bike engines and the smell of carbon and freshly poured gas.
Clyde pulls out first leading the pack, Nix behind us with Cass and Dalton flanking him. This club is proving time and time again that we are not normal.
The ride is short to my house, Nix stayed behind at the gas station with the rest of club, including Cass and Dalton.
It’s been a few days since I’ve set eyes on my home and besides the dying grass, nothing has changed. We glide into my driveway, and Clyde kills the engine and waits for me to hop off.
“Where’s it at?” he asks, flipping his helmet off.
“Garage.”
This is a lot harder than I thought it was going to be. My bike’s been wrecked for nine months so there’s no chance in hell I’d be able to rid her. All I have is the bike that was built with me in mind, my dad’s bike.
He had it specially built, something he could ride and be comfortable but also something he could pass down to me when he could no longer handle the stresses of this life.
Clyde follows close behind me, with his arm brushing mine. I open the side door into the dark, damp cave, feeling for the light on the wall.
The dark space comes to life when I flip the switch on. Everything is covered, my Mustang that someone brought back sits in the middle with her cloak tucked tightly around her, the tool benches have their dedicated blue tarps laid neatly on top of them. The car and bike parts still hang on the walls, forever stationary since my father passed.
My bike mangled and broken bike sits in the far corner, looming in the darkness while the one I’m after stands parallel to the mustang.
“There.” I point Clyde in the direction of it. He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t need to. He knows how hard this is for me, my dad was supposed to be the one to give her to me but that won’t ever happen.
He hauls the cloak away, revealing the beautiful scorched orange Harley sport glide. She hasn’t been uncovered in at least a year. The cruiser is amazing, to some it might not be much but to me she’s fucking everything.
At 1,746 cc that’s more than enough power between my legs, I don’t think I was virgin before I wasn’t one anymore.
“Been a while since I’ve seen it.” I express, running my hand over the grips.
“I’m not gonna lie, I came by yesterday to clean her up,” he says. “Gassed her up, made sure it was good to go.”
Part of me wants to be pissed that he did that, but the other part of me is beyond grateful for saving time.
Clyde convenes the garage, allowing me to do the honors. Kicking her stand I push it out during which he closes the door behind me. There’s a nudge at my back and when I look Clyde’s holding my dome. Smiling at him I take it and place it on my head, securing the strap.
Never missing a beat, I hop on, cranking her up. She roars to life, a sound I didn’t know I was missing in my life and the vibrations I dint know my bones needed until now. “God I’ve missed this.”
Clyde laughs taking up his own, “No time for training wheels, Kitty Kat, we gotta roll.”
Ugh, the name. Kicking up the stand we hit the road without a glance back.
Exactly two minutes later the gas station comes into view. I can’t hear them, but we’ve caught the pack’s attention, half of them are clapping, throwing their arms up pin the air for support.
These guys are a trip, more than half of them are in their forties and fifties acting like their seventeen and their favorite NASCAR driver just crossed the checkered flag.
Cass and D laugh hysterically in the pit of bodies acting like fucking fools. Okay guys that’s enough.
“Let’s go what are you guys doing?” I shoot over the engines. Cass walks up to me where his twin rushes over to his bike, so he isn’t left behind. Like I would ever leave my D behind. I snort to myself.
“Looks, good on you…Reaper.” He taps the patch on my cut that reads just that. I offer a half-hearted smile. I’m still pissed at him, because I don’t know what to believe with his situation, but I am glad he’s here.
He jaunts away from me, heading for his own ride as does everyone else. Once situated we’re back on the road, Nix circles me with his damn ape hangers sticking his barbed tongue at me.
I swear to god I feel like I’m in the fucking twilight zone. I think gliding in behind Clyde and Nix but in front of Dalton and Cass.
Let’s fucking do this.
Everywhere we ride, people flash us dirty fucking looks. It pisses me off sometimes, but they have every right. As much as I like to say I’m a good person, I haven’t always been and won’t always be.
Three hours is how long it takes us to ride into Hoogdal, this place is pretty small much like our own town. We don’t do business in populated areas because unlike some we don’t want citizens ending up collateral damage if shit hits the fan.
Clyde signals we’re getting close, and I pass it down in case the ones in the back don’t see. Another mile or so down the road and half the pack branches off leaving Clyde, Nix, myself, Good, Dalton, Cass and Ratty in the van barreling towards the meeting place.
We make a turn on a side road, rumbling down Swede Creek to the dead end. Trees engross us, concealing from prying eyes and any nosy neighbors. There’s about two acres or so cleared for the trailer sitting in the middle. Bitch is falling apart, broken down cars scattered about hog pins long abandoned. Weird.
Three men step out of the trailer, wearing protective equipment from head to toe. Clyde steps up to address them removing his bandana from his face.
“One of you Johnny?” he questions, looking between them.
“You Clyde?” the tall, long chestnut-haired man counters, removing his gloves.
“I am.” Clyde admits.
The three men reveal themselves; every one of them have long hair with colors varying from chestnut to honeycomb colors. Bronze skin covered in a white substance. Awfully sloppy to be a heavy hitter.
These fucks make me nervous; I’ve never liked the smell of fish and it reeks out here.
My gut tells me to stay alert, don’t let your guard down and smother your emotions. My dad’s words of… wisdom play over and over in my head.
Don’t trust anyone, herd in your emotions and smother the fuckers, shoot first ask questions later.
Not the best advice but it works.
The one called Johnny takes the steps two at a time until he stands a grip away from Clyde. He holds his hand out for an uncomfortable greeting to which Clyde rejects. I don’t blame him, home dude is covered in powder, what powder? God only knows.
“All right.” His hand falls to his side. “how many were you able scrounge?”
“Couple dozen.” Clyde turns his back, heading for the van. “They weren’t
easy to find, not a huge demand for water guns.”
A wide grin replaces Johnny’s frown. “Yeah, wanted to have a little fun with these first.”
Does Clyde not find this even a little sketchy?
“Clyde can I talk to you for a second?” I ask, tapping my nose with my finger. He gives me a hard look, knowing damn well I shouldn’t be interrupting him. I’m just here as a trigger man.
He looks back at John—I can’t do the whole Johnny thing. “Give me a sec?” the long-haired meth man nods.
