Fender: Soulless Kings MC

by Andi Rhodes

  His eyebrows raise. “All right but be sure to get one of the guys to give it a tune up… if it still runs.”

  I nod and head out the door without another word to my sister or mom. When I get to the garage, I pull the door up and comfort washes through me at the grating sound it makes and the weight under my arms. It’s weird the things you miss without ever realizing it.

  I pluck my keys off the hook and try not to look at my dad’s bike as I find mine exactly where I left it. I wonder what’ll happen to his. Will Sylvia get it? My mom? One of the brothers? Or will it just sit in the garage and collect dust like mine has?

  I wipe some of the dust off the seat, but don’t fuck with it too long. I’d rather not stay here another second. Fitting the key into the ignition, I bite my lip and praise God when my baby starts up.

  My chest squeezes as I pull out of the garage and head to town. There’s no way I’m asking a brother to give my bike a tune up, not right now when everyone hates me. I could do it myself, but that would require me to spend more time on Black Savages property than I want to right now.

  So instead I ride the ten miles into town, forcing myself not to show my teeth as I smile so a bug can’t stain them. It feels so good to be on my bike, I almost don’t stop going. I could just ride off into the proverbial sunset, never stopping until I reached a place that felt like home. But that would defeat the purpose of coming back here, and the hard truth is I have no home away from here. This life is where I belong, whether they want me or not. And I should know because I’ve been searching for a new home for years and have come up empty.

  I search out a garage I haven’t been to before so, hopefully, I won’t run into anyone who knew me before I left. I find one with a newer looking building on the edge of town. Infinite Motors. What a corny ass name.

  I pull the bike into the lot and park before hopping off and heading to the main entrance. A bell dings as I push the door open.

  No one is at the counter, so I walk up to it and lean against the granite, tapping my foot as I wait.

  The door behind the counter swings open and out comes a man with gray eyes that haunt my dreams… and sometimes my nightmares.

  “Fender,” I say, standing up straight. My foot stops tapping, and I glance down at my rugged clothes, covered in dust. My cheeks heat before I can realize how ridiculous I am for it. He isn’t someone I should try to impress.

  He stalks to the counter, and his face hardens to an impossible degree. I don’t remember him looking so serious. He was so much more… boy, when I knew him. Worlds away from the man standing before me.

  “What do you want?” Inside, I flinch from his sharp tone. Outside, my face is impassive.

  “Since when are you working at a garage? The club’s shop not good enough for you? Or is money just that tight?” My words are just as sharp, but I ask the questions more out of curiosity than insult. I don’t even want to insult him, but I can’t help it with the way he’s talking to me. It’s a defense mechanism I’ve never been able to shake. I wonder if he remembers that.

  He snarls. “I own the place. Tell me what you want or get the fuck out.”

  My eyes widen in surprise. He owns a garage now? I guess I shouldn’t be so surprised. He’s a damn good mechanic, and it’s always been his passion. The cut he’s wearing is a clear marker for Soulless Kings, so I have to wonder if the garage is his or theirs. Not that it matters.

  “Never mind, I’ll go somewhere else.”

  I turn and prepare to leave, but Fender is around the counter and blocking me before I make it more than two feet to the door. He pushes me back, and I stumble to the counter, his hands slamming down on either side of me to block me in. His face is inches from mine, and I know it’s out of intimidation and not lust, but my core starts to heat anyway. I can smell him. Oil and exhaust coupled with a scent only belonging to him.

  Another one of the things I didn’t realize I missed.

  “Are you really gonna pretend you didn’t know this was my garage?”

  I narrow my eyes. “I didn’t know that this was your garage, Fender. I wouldn’t have come here if I did.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “What should I call you then? Chri—”

  Before I can get the word out, his hand circles my throat and he squeezes. Not enough so that I can’t breathe, but enough that it’s uncomfortable.

  “Don’t call me anything.”

  I wrap my hands around his wrist and tug, but when he squeezes tight I force my hands to my sides and close my eyes. I feel his breath skate over my cheek, and I shudder. “I don’t know why you came back, but consider this my one and only warning. Stay the fuck away from me and my club. This isn’t Black Savages territory anymore, Charlie. You’re on the wrong side of the tracks.”

  He releases my throat and I take a few deep breaths, being sure I don’t gasp and show he’s affected me. Then I open my eyes and stare into his which are still so close to me. A patch on his cut rubs against my nipple and hardens it, although I’m certain he isn’t doing it intentionally.

  “You know exactly why I’m here,” I say, a little too breathlessly. “I saw you at the funeral.”

  “Funeral? This whole time I was thinking it was a celebration.”

  This time the wince is external, and I turn my face away. There was a time when I loved this man. I let him hold me, and I let him see me cry. He was mine, and I was his, and now I’m no one’s. It fucking hurts. He didn’t come to the funeral for me. He came to smite my father.

  “Fuck you, Fender.” There isn’t enough animosity in my tone for my liking, but I hold on to my dignity. He’ll never see me cry again.

  He leans into my neck and goosebumps spread over my flesh. “I’ve already been there… And look what it cost me.”

  He sounds pained, and this time I picture him with the wince. The way his breath caresses my flesh, I’m almost convinced he’s about to kiss me there, but he pulls back abruptly and walks around the counter. He turns his head to peer back at me with his hand on the door. “This is the one and only pass I’m giving you. Don’t come on our turf again.”

  He’s through the door and I’m standing there alone a moment later. I’m frozen for what must be minutes but feels like years.

  I shouldn’t be surprised.

  I knew he hated me.

  I saw the look in his eyes the day I left.

  And still, my heart feels like it’s breaking into a thousand pieces all over again. I take deep breaths in through my nose and close my eyes long enough that by the time I’m walking back to my bike, I’m walking tall. I’m not the broken girl he made me four years ago, and he isn’t the boy who stole my heart.

  I guess it’s goodbye for real this time.

  Chapter Four

  If my parents being murdered was the knife thrust in my gut, Charlie leaving was it being twisted, shredding my insides until they were unrecognizable.

  Fender

  “What the fuck was that all about?”

  I glare at Joker, who’s supposed to be working on the vintage 1946 Indian Chief. I’d called him in because the customer wanted the bike restored, and while I’m a great fucking mechanic, restoration isn’t my thing. Joker on the other hand can bring anything back to life.

  “Fuckin’ hell, brother. I can see it all over your face. You wanna hit that again. Are you forgetting the shitstorm she brought to our door?”

  My control snaps. I storm across the garage and get within inches of Joker’s face. He shows no fear of my rage, which doesn’t surprise me but does increase my fury.

  “Don’t for one second think I’ve forgotten that night,” I snarl. “How could I? My parents are fucking dead. Not only that but everyone has made it crystal fucking clear what they think of that bitch and I’ve listened.” I narrow my eyes and back up a step. “But I’m still your prez and you will not fucking question me again. Ya got me?”

  “Uh, should I come back?”

  I whirl arou
nd and see Piston standing in the doorway I walked through just moments ago. He’s got a hardened look on his face, but his glare is directed at Joker, not me. That’s why he’s my VP. He’s been in complete agreement with the others regarding Charlie’s role in that night, but at the end of the day, he’s loyal to me.

  “Nah, you’re just in time. Fender here is explaining how he doesn’t want to dip his dick in the prodigal daughter of the Black Savages.”

  I glance back at Joker and take in the sneer on his face. Joker’s a knife wielding son of a bitch and a hell of a Sergeant at Arms, but his road name fits him like a glove. Sometimes, he never knows when to fucking let things go. Usually, it’s something stupid and gives the brothers a good laugh, but this shit about Charlie is getting old.

  “Ah, I thought that’s who I saw sitting outside when I pulled up.” Piston scratches the side of his nose, a gesture I know means he’s about to say something I won’t fucking like. “All due respect, but why is she still upright?”

  “Goddammit!” I roar as I lift my leg and kick the bike at Joker’s station, knocking it to the ground with a rattling thud.

  “That’s just great.” Piston chuckles and saunters toward me. “Get pissed and break shit. That’s really gonna solve the problem.”

  “Shut it. You know we can fix it,” I scoff.

  I saunter to my station, my rage simmering just beneath my skin. As much as breaking shit let’s me release some of it, Piston’s right. Infinite Motors is one of several businesses owned by the Soulless Kings, but it’s my baby and I should treat it as such. I spin around to face them again.

  “Just go home, both of you.” I return my attention to the bike I was working on when the bell chimed letting me know we had a customer.

  “Jesus Christ, you call me down here and now you’re sending me away,” Joker mumbles as he puts his shit away, slamming his toolbox drawers.

  “Joker, enough,” Piston snaps, clearly aware of my tenuous grip on sanity.

  I keep my back to both of them, taking deep breaths as I listen to them leave. When the bell chimes signaling their exit, I whirl around and throw the wrench in my hand at the wall, where it bounces off with a thud, leaving a hole in its wake.

  I need to be alone so I lock up the shop. I’ve had to be strong, ruthless, since the night my parents died and Charlie walked out, but it hasn’t been without a cost. Mostly to myself and my fucked up head.

  The sound of the lock clicking into place transports me back to that night. I’ve locked so much of my memories away in a steel vault in my skull. I’ve had to, but in an instant, they all come flooding back, assaulting me with precise blows designed to bring me to my knees.

  I flip the switch next to the swinging door behind the counter as I pass through, bathing the shop in darkness. Many people are afraid of the dark. Not me. I relish it, the ability it provides me to forget everything else around me and just be, the cover it provides when the Soulless Kings have to strike, the anonymity we get when others can’t make us out because of the inky blackness.

  Right now, though, all the darkness is giving me is the opportunity to dwell on things I can’t change. Fucking Charlie, gunshots ringing out, my mother covered in blood, my father trying to protect her, death, carnage, betrayal, loyalty. The night the world stopped is burned into my brain, and no matter how many deeds I do as president, I can’t scrub them away or replace them.

  If my parents being murdered was the knife thrust in my gut, Charlie leaving was it being twisted, shredding my insides until they were unrecognizable. Joker and Piston’s voices have echoed in my head, yelling that Charlie had betrayed me, had set me up, set the club up and orchestrated the slaughter that took place.

  At the time, I didn’t believe them, not really, but then she fled the state and there’s no denying that was suspicious. Couple that with the constant reminder from my brothers that she’s responsible, and I started to question everything I’d ever known.

  Don’t get me wrong, there was never a part of me that thought a relationship with Charlie was going to be easy, at least not when it came to the rivalry between the Soulless Kings and Black Savages, but growing up in an MC isn’t easy. I’d been young and dumb and had hoped that we loved each other enough to make it work, to overcome any obstacle our world threw at us. I was wrong. So fucking wrong.

  After burying my parents, without my girl, I poured my soul into proving myself worthy of becoming the president of the Soulless Kings. I stole, fought, fucked, killed. I did it all. No task was too dirty for my hands, and after six months, I’d earned the title.

  As president, I vowed to do whatever it took to get revenge on the Black Savages, to hold them accountable for the bloodshed. I told myself that if Charlie was found to be responsible, I could punish her, I could do whatever was necessary to make her pay. But she’d been gone. Maybe it’s a good thing she left because despite reassurances to my brothers and myself, I’m not sure I could avenge my club at her expense. It had never been a problem.

  Until now.

  She’s back and I can no longer ignore the questions that have plagued me for four years. Distance has been the perfect excuse, but it’s not a factor anymore. When news of her father’s death—pitiful way to go out for an MC President if you ask me—reached me, I’d been battered with so many mixed emotions.

  Relief had been swift but had quickly been replaced by dread. A death like Dyno’s could bring a club to its knees, and while I hoped that would be the case, I’m not stupid. The Black Savages would bury him and move on, much like we had after the night of the massacre.

  I knew his death would be the one thing that could bring Charlie back into my orbit, and I dreaded that like nothing else before in my twenty-seven years. I’d gone to the funeral hoping to get a glimpse of her, praying that I’d see her in a different light, that I’d see the bitch who betrayed me.

  I’d gotten part of what I wanted. She is indeed different than the girl I fell in love with, but I don’t see a monster when I look at her, no matter how hard I try or how much I want to. The sight of her at the podium, trying to come up with words to honor her father, to honor my enemy, had been a sucker punch to the gut.

  I’d wanted to go to her, wrap her in my arms and promise her that life would be okay. I’d also wanted to go to her and fuck her brains out right there in front of God and everyone, so maybe I wasn’t thinking straight.

  When I’d entered the front of Infinite Motors to greet the customer and saw Charlie standing there, I’m not gonna lie, it took a minute to get my mind right. She may not look exactly like the girl who walked out on me, on us, but there’s no denying that she’s even better. She’s a fucking wide awake wet dream. Hair that reminds me of melted dark chocolate and eyes that reminds me of the luscious greenery up and down the Oregon Coast. That greenery has been witness to so much over time and her eyes mirrored that, so full of heartache, wisdom, unease, fear.

  I should have demanded answers right then and there, but I couldn’t. Not with Joker in the next room. Instead, I threw up my walls and forced the man I’ve become to bleed through. I focused on the fact that she’d been trespassing on Soulless Kings’ territory. Never mind the fact that she wouldn’t have known that as our acquisition of it is relatively recent. Not my problem that she isn’t up on current events. But I made it hers.

  The corners of my mouth pull into a grin. The look on her face when I gripped her throat was priceless. Charlie has always been a badass. She had to be, growing up the Black Savages’ princess, but all of that had fled for a brief moment and she’d been at my mercy. I like her that way. Too much.

  I gave her a free pass, the only one she’ll ever get, but now I’m second guessing that decision. I had her, literally in my grasp, and I let her go. Am I getting soft? Does she still have her tentacles wrapped around every cell in my body, holding me hostage and pussy whipping me into submission?

  No.

  My smile falls as the music in the shop shifts. ‘Blame It
On The Boom Boom’ by Black Stone Cherry pumps out of the sound system I installed before opening. Normally, I can handle this song and the memories it brings with it, but not now. Not so soon after seeing Charlie. Not so quickly after memories of that night have overtaken my every thought. Not when it’s the song that had been playing as I’d buried myself in her body and my parents had been gunned down.

  I lift a screwdriver from my work bench and launch it in the same direction as the wrench. Unlike before, this tool sticks in the wall, and for a second I envision Charlie’s shocked expression behind it, blood oozing from the hole it would leave in her skull.

  I shake my head to clear my thoughts. Wallowing is a pussy’s game. I’m no fucking pussy. I take a deep breath and shove my memories back into the vault I built for them. Shoulders squared, I head out the back door, locking it behind me.

  When I straddle my Harley Davidson Road King and rev the engine, the vibration goes straight to my balls. The tingling feeling grounds me in a way nothing else can. I pull out of the parking lot behind our building and point the bike in the direction of my club.

  I’ve waited years to get answers, and if I’m going to do that without other unwanted emotions getting in the way, I’m going to need my brothers. I don’t ask much of them. Stay loyal, protect the club, don’t get caught. That’s always been enough.

  Until now.

  Chapter Five

  This isn’t about us. This isn’t even about me. This is about him.

  Charlie

  “We could… Fender…”

  “What did you just say?” I stop abruptly, my boots squeaking on the mall’s linoleum floor. Maggie has been talking nonstop since she showed up at my mother’s house on her Harley. I managed to tune her out around a half hour ago, but now she has my full attention.

  She quirks a brow at me and pops her gum. “I said we could go check out other stores if you wanted or swing by the vendors downtown. What, you too good for the flea markets now or somethin’?”