F*CKER

by Amo Jones

  I ran my hands over my hair before looking to Tommy. “Has anyone heard from Ryker?”

  He shook his head, walking toward me with a water bottle in his hand. “Nothing yet. Corletta is on her way here with an army of lawyers though, along with your dad.”

  That thought relaxed me a tad. “We need to get him out, Tommy.”

  “I know,” he agreed, with a forced smile.

  “If this is any consolation, Blake says he is well protected in there. Apparently, one of the boys from The Devil’s Own is sharing the same block as Ryker and has him covered,” Phoebe said, walking in with a bowl of granola. When did she get here? I must’ve forgotten while ogling all the eye-candy.

  “Oh, okay. Not sure what that means, but it sounds good.” I took a seat on the La-Z-Boy, drawing my knees up to my chest.

  “Sorry,” she corrected herself. “The Devil’s Own MC. They’re allies with Sinful Souls MC, who are my family. Frost, one of their members, got his ass thrown in after being caught with weapons. They also have allegiances with the skinheads too, who run most of the power inside. He’s fine.”

  I gulped, letting the words sink in deep. That didn’t sound good, quite the opposite actually. Skinheads? Did she mean like Nazis?

  The front door burst open and I stood quickly, looking to Phoebe. “I forgot to mention, my best friend is here.”

  “Who?” Tommy asked, and I looked toward Leo, who was lounging on the big L-shaped sofa that sat in the corner of the sitting room.

  “Fuck,” he breathed, after catching the apologetic smile I gave him.

  “Indie?” Tommy asked with a grin, standing to his feet.

  Indie stormed in, her eyes finding mine in an instant, with her shoulders sagging and her hands dropping to her side. Damn, my best friend was a babe. She had bags under her eyes, but her dyed red hair was still bright and continued to trail down to her mid-back naturally, and her bangs swiped across her forehead, showcasing her blue eyes, which gleamed with unshed tears.

  “Bry!” she sobbed, running into me, and I wrapped my arms around her.

  “So good to see you,” I muffled into the crook of her neck, because she was a couple inches taller than I was. She pulled me back, swiping the tears off her face.

  “Didn’t get those donuts, huh?” I joked to her.

  She laughed, swiping more tears off her face again. “Shut up. But no, no, I didn’t.” Her face dropped again at the sad realization she didn’t snag those donuts she was probably dreaming about.

  “Indie?” Leo whispered, slowly walking toward her.

  Her body stilled. “Hey, Leo.” Her eyes scanned between me and him.

  “Jesus, look at you.” He eyed her up and down and she smiled. “Likewise, you quit the smokes?”

  He laughed, nodding his head. “Yeah.”

  After her, Leo, and Tommy caught up briefly, I pointed toward Phoebe, Rellik, and Cruz, introducing them. Indie’s eyes stayed a little too long on Cruz. I had to pinch her arm to stop her ogling both him and Rellik. Shit, this was going to be interesting.

  I was lying on my back when the security guard slid my cell door open. I propped up onto my elbows and watched as he escorted in a man who had to be in his late twenties, with an upside down cross tattooed under his eye. My eyebrows drew together as I scanned him up and down. The guard walked away, locking our cell door again as my new cellmate walked toward the bunk, dropping his sheets on top.

  “You Ryker Oakley?” he asked, stepping away from the bed and peering down at me.

  “Yeah,” I answered skeptically, with my eyes narrowed.

  He nudged his head. “Frost, Zane called in the favor.”

  “Oh, you’re from the Sinful Souls MC?” I asked.

  “Nah, TDO. The Devil’s Own.”

  “How’d you get in this cell?” I stood from the bed.

  He shrugged. “I know people who know people,” he answered with a smile.

  “Seems like you all do,” I grunted under my breath, shaking his hand.

  He took a seat and started to go through the ins and outs of prison life. Learning that he was in on a weapons charge wasn’t surprising either.

  Later that night, after lights out, I pulled my notepad and pen out from under my pillow. Tapping my fingers to a silent beat, I tried to keep my eyes fixed on the notepad. The bright moonlight gleamed into our cell through the barred window, and I scribbled down the first thing that came to my mind when I thought of Bryleigh.

  Jaded.

  Ever had to look through jaded glass…

  The murky vision a reminder of your past…

  I sat there, my mind playing with words to use that could sum up Bryleigh, us, and our messed up twist of fucking fate. I allowed the words to flow freely from my mind to my fingertips, and before I knew it, the early morning sunrise was beginning to illuminate through the window. I put my pen down and placed the notepad back under my pillow before throwing my head back with an exasperated breath, closing my eyes.

  When the heavy metal cell door slid open, jolting me awake, I looked toward it to find one of the prison guards standing, flicking the keys around between his fingers.

  “Come on, pretty boy. Your lawyer wants a word with you.”

  I stood from my bed just as Frost began rising from his, his hands rubbing over his face furiously. I scanned his ink briefly, admiring it. Tattoos covered every inch of skin from his jaw down.

  “All right,” I answered, walking toward the little sink that sat in the corner, splashing the cold water over my face in my attempt at pulling myself out of my half sleep haze.

  “You good?” Frost asked, standing from his bed and running his eyes over the guard suspiciously. He didn’t trust him. I could see it in the way his eyes bored into the guard.

  “Yeah, lawyer visit,” I replied.

  “I’ll come with.” Frost began to shove his white T-shirt over top of his head and the guard laughed. “You’re not doing any such thing, boy.”

  “I’m not a boy, and don’t come at me with that tone, Christopher Michaels, who has four children, a wife, and a ho on the side who you get your dick wet with every Saturday after your son’s soccer practice at West Valley Elementary school,” Frost said without missing a breath. His eyebrow cocked. “Did I miss anything?”

  The guard, or Christopher, nodded his head in defeat. “Hurry up.” I looked to Frost and he smirked.

  “Let me guess, you know people who know people?” I mumbled under my breath, as we followed the guard out.

  He chuckled. “Nah, that shit was all me.” I raised my eyebrows. Not sure what he meant by that statement, but he seemed serious. There’s no way I could see Frost being a computer nerd; you could see the man worked out, a lot. But there was a tick in his eye that displayed his crazy.

  Walking into the foyer, there were plastic shields lining the entire middle of the room with little private booths on each side and phones hanging on the wall of each cubicle. The guard pointed to an empty booth at the end of the foyer and Frost followed me down. The room was filled with the sounds of wives crying, mothers weeping, and fathers disapproving. Once I reached mine, I found Victor there with Patricia Louis. Patricia was famous for the cases she had won. She was, as far as I knew, undefeated in the courtroom and relentless. Dropping down on the seat, I nodded at them both and picked up the phone. Frost pulled a seat from the empty booth beside us and sat next to me.

  Victor picked up the phone on his side. “How you doing, son?”

  I smiled. “Yeah, good, old man. How’s Bry?” Her name coming out my mouth felt forbidden, and sacred. It pulled deep in my chest to say it out loud.

  “She’s dealing with it the way Bryleigh does, with strength. She’s all settled into your house,” he answered, watching my reaction closely.

  The thought of Bryleigh walking around barefoot in my house set off foreign feelings in my gut. That should not happen, ever, but they only ever happened with Bryleigh. I always figured that what I felt with her
when we were younger was puppy love. Now, I wasn’t sure. Is puppy love supposed to come back to you instantly after an eight year gap?

  “Good, that’s good to hear. What do we have so far? How am I looking?” He passed the phone to Patricia, who raised her brows at me in a highhanded gesture.

  “Ryker, good to meet you. I think.”

  “Likewise, I think. How’s my case looking?”

  “Actually, it’s looking brilliant. Your brother had his security cameras operating through the entire ordeal, so we have vivid evidence that would clear you of any serious charges. However, you still inflicted harm, but your case is looking very promising, Ryker. I think we could have you out on bail within the next couple of days until trial.”

  I nodded, trying really fucking hard not to jump up and down in excitement, because that wouldn’t be manly at all. “That’s fucking… oh, man, thank you.” She nodded, about to pass the phone back to Victor, when I raised my hand up. “Wait!”

  She placed the phone back to her ear. “Yes?”

  “I’m going to need my man here out too. Can you swing that?” I asked, and Frost looked toward me, shocked.

  Patricia’s eyes scanned Frost briefly before coming back to mine.

  “For fuck sake, Ryker,” she moaned, pinching her nose in distress. She rolled her eyes. “Put him on.”

  I handed the phone to Frost, winking at him. He gave me a light chuckle, taking the phone from me. “Yeah?”

  On the way back to our cell, Frost nudged me with his elbow. “So I guess I’m not the only person who knows people who knows people, huh?”

  I laughed, following the prison guard closely, ignoring the handcuffs that were latched around my wrists tightly. “I guess not.”

  The warm sunset danced across my skin in orange hues as the waves crashed around my feet.

  “So today has been intense. I can’t believe no one told me about what happened that night,” Indie said, looking out to the ocean in front of us.

  “I know. I’m so sorry, Indie. We all sort of just never spoke of it again. When the papers came out, looking for the person who ran him over, we just flipped the page.”

  “I knew him,” Indie whispered, wiping the tears off her cheek.

  “What? Who?” I gasped, peering into her eyes.

  “The guy Becca ran over.” She nodded, taking a seat on the sand. I followed suit. “He worked at the gym downtown. He was a few years older than I was, and… I don’t know… one thing led to another one night and I slept with him.” She looked out to the ocean again.

  “What? How could you not tell me?”

  “I tried! But you were so caught up in Ryker that I don’t think you were listening when I did. Anyway, I found some drugs in his duffel bag one night and ended it with him. You know, my experience with Becca, drugs were always a hard limit for me. He didn’t take it too kindly, shook me and yelled in my face. I ran home and tried to call you, but it was one of those nights where we were drifting apart. I cheated on Matty. I wasn’t proud of that either, so I just kept it to myself.”

  “Shit,” I whispered, my breathing coming in short. “Shit, this is terrible.”

  “It is.” She nodded. “He was a hothead and probably a junkie, but he didn’t deserve to go out like that. No one does.”

  I swallowed past the lump that had grown in my throat. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  She kissed the back of my hand softly. “For what? Don’t be.”

  I leaned my head onto her shoulder while keeping my eyes fixed on the waves. The sun setting over the calm water brought a sense of peace and serenity over me for the first time since before I met Todd. “What’s going to happen to you and Ryker when he gets out? Ryder said his lawyers are hopeful, because he and Phoebe have security cameras.”

  My heart warmed, and I couldn’t fight the cheesy grin that sprawled over my face. When Ryder remembered they had operating cameras on their entire property, a huge chunk of relief filled me.

  A chopper rode above us and I looked up to it, shaking my head. “I don’t know.”

  “Have you checked your Facebook?” she asked, swiping through her phone.

  “No, definitely not.”

  “You might be surprised. Seems the majority of his fans are pining after you. Ryker coming in and saving the damsel in distress.”

  I shook my head with a scoff. “I am not a damsel in distress. I do kinda like it here though,” I added, peering across the large stretch of beach. It was lightly filled with people walking their dogs, young couples making out, and friends splashing in the water. “I don’t want to go back to Hollywood, Indie.”

  “What we drinking tonight, bitches?” Phoebe came down with the infamous bottle of absinthe.

  I laughed. “Oh, no, nooope, no you don’t.”

  “What?” She smirked innocently, pouring into the three glasses she was clutching. “It’s a ritual. And besides, Ryker might be getting out sooner than we thought. At least, he’ll make bail until trial. But our case is strong.” She winked at me and I laughed. Good luck to all of us. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach at the thought of seeing Ryker again and I clutched my hand over it, attempting to suppress my feelings.

  Phoebe looked toward me and tilted her head while handing me my glass. “Are you blushing, Monroe?”

  I laughed, diverting my eyes away from her. This girl was way too smart. “No,” I scoffed, taking a large gulp of the potent liquid.

  “Sure, sure. Anyway, the guys are managing the barbeque, so I think we will be making a dash to a take-out joint. Ryker is the one who cooks around here. The rest of the guys are useless.”

  Indie laughed, taking a sip of her drink. “So you were a motorcycle princess, huh?”

  Phoebe snorted, taking a pull of her own drink. “Princess? Hardly.”

  “How is that going?” I added. “You know, with Ryker inside?”

  Phoebe piped up, placing her drink on the sand. “I forgot to fill you in. It’s been good. We have a few connections in there with The Devil’s Own, but the one we have locked on Ryker is Frost. He got locked up for a weapons charge and will be he getting out around the same time as Ryker. Apparently, they’ve formed a friendship, and apparently, Ryker swung a favor in getting him released early.” Phoebe rolled her eyes.

  “That’s a bad thing?” I inquired, taking a sip of my drink.

  Phoebe shrugged. “I mean, no. But the thing is, Ryker has personality tendencies that would appeal to the MC world. If he wasn’t a hotshot rock star, Beast—the international president of the The Devil’s Own MC—would for sure recruit him. He likes them deranged and a little reckless.”

  I laughed, drinking the rest of my drink before handing it back to Phoebe for a refill. “Well then Ryker would fit in just fine.”

  “Bikers sound like fun,” Indie whispered, her voice low and her eyes glassed over.

  I threw some sand at her. “Cut that shit out right now.” Indie was way too crazy for her own good.

  Phoebe and I burst into laughter, and Indie looked at us both, lost. “What?” Which only made us laugh harder.

  ***

  Later that night, I was snuggled into the plush blankets of Ryker’s bed, swimming in his scent. His smell hadn’t changed much; it was still the same, musky with a hint of… candy? Bittersweet, just like he was. There was a light knock on the door before Indie pushed it open, leaning on the doorframe.

  “You okay?” she asked, the moonlight casting shadows over her worried face.

  I huffed, throwing myself onto my back and kicking the blankets off. “Yeah, I guess. It’s just… What am I supposed to make of all this? Am I supposed to thank him? Hug him?”

  “Fuck him?” Indie added casually, with a shrug. I looked at her, my face bored. “Okay, okay, dry joke. Look, you and Ryker have always been this… force. He pushes, you push back. You pull, he pulls back harder. I think you two will be able to work through it, and when you see him, you will know what to do.” She pauses. “Do you want to
talk about Todd? I have only heard a few things.” She walked toward the bed and pulled the covers back.

  I shuffled over, thinking of how I could lessen what Todd and I were, but this was Indie. She would understand, so I decided I would bare all to her.

  “It’s going to be a long night,” I began, snuggling into the bed. “He only ever inflicted pain on me that one time.” I pulled the covers up to my chin, picturing that it was Ryker covering me, and not just his scent.

  “What did he do before then?” Indie whispered softly.

  “Just shoved me around, more mental abuse though, which was a little worse.”

  “How is emotional abuse worse, Bry?”

  “Because,” I answered. “Because emotional abuse scars your inner peace, and your soul. People have no idea what you’re dealing with inside. Whereas physical abuse—is awful, but you asked for a comparison—is shown on the outside. The pain is obvious with some people. I would rather get hit than be mind fucked.”

  She flipped onto her side, and I followed suit so we were face-to-face with each other. “I’m sorry. I should have known. I never did like him, you know.”

  I smiled, my eyes feeling heavy. “I know. Me neither.”

  “Night, Indie.”

  “Night, babe.”

  The next morning, Indie and I were out buying donuts—the girl eats entirely too many donuts and doesn’t show for it—when a swarm of paparazzi come driving up the curb as we walked, elbows linked, across the street. I stopped midsentence telling Indie that with her being a personal trainer, she should not be consuming so many donuts. Gripping her elbow, Nikos pushed Indie and me behind his back as the cameras started flashing across my eyes as everyone spat questions at me. Nikos took over for Cruz today; he said they needed someone who could handle any situation. Cruz being the younger brother, I guessed they thought he wouldn’t fit.

  “Bryleigh, did you come back to Westbeach knowing that Ryker would kill Todd for you?” a paparazzo asked, and I scrunched my face at him.