by T. L Smith
When I woke up, I found out I was a member of a motorcycle club. They welcomed me into their homes, looked after me when no other would. Apart from Savannah, who happened to be the Pres’s daughter.
I questioned it for ages. Why would I be a part of something like this? Then they placed a gun in my hand and I knew they were right. The gun was mine, it was the only thing that felt comfortable. The only thing I knew with certainty that was entirely mine. I knew exactly how to use it—I wasn’t only good with it, I was the best with it.
I make decisions with the club, yes. I’m also the person who destroys people—I am death. Some even call me that, other clubs call me that. So my skills with a gun came in handy, and I now do work for the club to help bring in more money than they could ever imagine. Taking on clients so big that the paychecks match them.
Kane chats in my ear, he doesn’t think I see or even notice the looks he gives Savannah. I can see it clear as day when he watches her, that he wants her and he wants her bad. Though he won’t do anything about it, knowing that she’s mine.
I sometimes want to tell him he can have her, but then I don’t want to share her. She makes me feel good, even if it’s only for a few minutes, sometimes mere seconds. It’s there, and the only other thing I’ve found that can do that for me is my gun.
“You taking her with you?” Kane asks, nodding his head to Savannah. I watch her, she’s beautiful, there’s no point denying that at all. Her back is to us, her tattoos which weave up her back are on full display.
“She wants to go,” I tell him, she always does. She intends to come with me on my jobs. At first, I didn’t want her to, but the high is there afterward and she spreads her legs willingly and excitedly for me to get that high. She craves it as much as I do. I always tell her no, but she usually bribes her way in.
“She always wants to go.” Kane chuckles, knowing full well how we are. Sometimes I think it’s just a front and that it’s all for display.
“You must be getting tired of the same pussy, though, man.” He doesn’t shut up, he’s always fucking talking. I don’t like to converse. I shake my head and turn back to the bar.
I have to make an appearance, it’s part of the brotherhood. I just don’t like to participate in all things and often wonder if I’ve always felt this, felt this way. No one tells me much, just what they think I need to know. Not what I should know.
I manage to go back to my room without anyone stopping or following me. I throw all my clothes off and lay on the bed, hoping sleep will consume me. And hoping the dreams show me a face, instead of words and touches.
“Have you ever wanted something so bad?” a voice as sweet as velvet whispers to me. That voice, it fills me.
“Yes,” I reply, trying to step closer, to see this person, to try and put a face to that voice. She sighs, and it’s not your average sigh, it’s deep. I can feel it, the meaning of that sigh.
“I need you. I need you to wake. I need you to find me.”
I go to speak, to assure her that I will, but it all goes black.
The dreams always came with the same voice, but never a face. I wake as soon as the dreams disappear. Sometimes they’re so vivid I can feel her skin, her hair, but never her face. I would give anything to see that face. I want to know why it haunts me, why she’s so stuck there. I haven’t told anyone.
Savannah woke me one night, I was rigid, tight, and drenched in sweat. She wanted to know what I was dreaming about. I couldn’t tell her, it didn’t feel right to share something like that with her.
“What’s wrong, baby?”
She crawls onto my lap, straddling me. I pick her up and slide her back so she’s sitting on the bed. She looks confused.
“I need you to be honest with me,” I say. Her head drops to the side as she assesses me. “Who was I with before you?”
Her eyes go wide in shock. She goes to speak then shuts her mouth straight away. “You fucked some junkie if I remember correctly.” She looks me in the eye, I can tell what she says is the truth. How much is the actual truth, though?
“Just fucked?”
“Fucked if I know. Maybe more than once…” she pins me with her eyes, “Why Trace? Why do you need to know this?”
“I need to know it all.”
“It doesn’t change anything, you are where you’re meant to be. When you accept that and accept me, it’ll get easier. Fuck! It's been five years, Trace, how can you not?”
I choose not to answer her. Instead, I stand and get dressed. It’s time to start packing, to go and do my job.
I’ve been in the car for five hours—five hours is how long it’s taken to get to this shit little city. Savannah seems nervous, constantly looking around and fidgeting with her hands. She bribed her way into coming with me, it didn’t surprise me. She always seems to, no matter what, she always goes where I go.
“Stay here,” I tell her climbing out of the truck. She looks at me and attempts to reach for the door handle. “Savannah, stay in the fucking truck!”
She nods her head and I step over to the coffee house. Turning back to see her watching me, she smiles but it’s weak, her eyes go from me then she starts looking around once again.
The smell hits me first, the strong smell of coffee beans. I look around, out of habit, assessing everything before I stand in line. Just as I’m about to be served, someone’s hand lands on my shoulder. The reaction is instant and I’m reaching for my gun just as fast as that hand removes itself. When I look up a man is standing there, a very tall man with a bald head. He looks me over, up and down, then does it a second time like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. My hand stays where it is, on my gun.
“Black?” he asks. His brows scrunched in confusion. My look must match his. “It can’t be…” his head starts to shake, “…you were dead,” he says just above a whisper.
“Who?” I ask. Who is this man he talks of? Why does that name sound familiar?
“You don’t recognize me?” he asks. A simple head-shake is all I give him before I see Savannah walking toward me. His eyes snap to her direction, he’s good, he notices things.
“Babe, you’re taking forever.” She wraps one arm around my waist and looks up to the man. “Who are you?” She’s rude when she wants to be. The guy’s nose crinkles, he turns his shoulder to her, clearly disgusted. I notice it and so does she, and she doesn’t like it one bit.
“The name’s Sax,” he says offering me his hand. I look at it unsure. But my hand automatically goes up and when he shakes it I feel him slip something in between—a card. I pocket it as soon as our hands break their strong grip.
“Trace,” I nod, giving him my name. He nods his head like he understands, and maybe he does. He looks one last time at Savannah, who’s wrapped around me like a snake before he walks out.
“What did he say?” Are her first words.
I take a step back, wondering what’s going on? And who is this Black?
“Nothing!” I turn and place our order, she stays where she is, watching me.
“You didn’t know him?” I turn to face her, grabbing our coffees and walking out the door. I go straight to my car, noticing that Sax is at the end of the street watching us. Savannah doesn’t notice, her eyes are glued to me wanting answers.
“Enough.” I see him then, the man we came for. He steps out of an office and he glances down at his watch.
“Trace,” she whines right next to me.
“Last time you’re coming with me. Do you understand?” My face is in her face, she nods her head and pouts her lips. I glance back up and see him climbing into a red sports car. Fuck this woman. “Get in the fucking car, or I’m leaving your ass here.” She doesn’t speak when she jumps in, then takes her coffee and sips it quietly next to me as I follow him.
He comes to a stop at a house, so I leave enough distance back so I can watch him. He walks to the door and a lady dressed in lingerie stands there, smiling. She pulls him by the tie inside.
Now… now I wait.
We sit in the car for a good hour. She plays on her phone and doesn’t say a word. I sit and watch the house quietly. She knows I need the quiet, I crave it.
He walks out, minus a tie. His smile is bright on his face, I have my sniper rifle already loaded, already positioned, just as he climbs in.
Everything around me goes black—I don’t see anything else but the target. I hear her breathing next to me and I swear it’s the last time she’ll come along with me. Just as he sits down, I take my shot. His door is shut, he’s buckling up, but his hands drop from his belt, falling down. His head lands on his horn and it blares loudly. We stay where we are, we’re far enough back that no one would’ve seen us. I check my surroundings again, and that’s when I see him. The man from the coffee shop, with a smirk on his face and he’s looking straight at me. He shakes his head and walks away.
Two weeks pass, two weeks the card burns a hole in my pocket. A card that says they hold truths I don’t know about that maybe I don’t want to know about. I remember the look on his face, the happiness he saw for me after taking a life. Maybe I’m better off in this life I have now. Maybe I truly was the devil in another life.
My door swings open, the card now in my hand. As I look up I see Grover standing there watching me, he looks at my hand then back to me. He is a large man—the president of the club—a scary man some say. His long gray hair is tied back and he has a bit of a belly. Laziness. To me, he’s nothing but a man short of a bullet. A bullet I sometimes want to lodge straight between his eyes. His cut is proud on his chest, he always wears it, even in our home. I bet he even he sleeps with it on, something to do with pride.
“You spoke to someone on your last job?” he asks, looking back at my hand. There’s no card there, it’s back in my pocket, concealed from his eyes. I give him a blank stare. What’s it to him if I did? “What did they say?” He never talks to me after a job, never. It’s usually a pat on the back, or a paycheck, but never a discussion of who I’ve spoken to or what I did.
“Nothing.”
He steps closer, his face closer to mine. “You wouldn’t lie to me now would ya, boy?” One eyebrow rises in question.
“What’s this about, Pres?” He doesn’t intimidate me, not in the least. He knows it, it just doesn’t stop him from trying. He craves people fearing him. I’m the only one that doesn’t, even his daughter fears him. He snaps up straight and shakes his head, he turns to leave, and just before he does he looks back, back to the pocket of my pants. Then turns and walks off.
Savannah sashays in before the door is even shut, she stands and smiles at me. I know it was her that told the Pres, she’ll play it off like it was nothing. It is nothing, but she doesn’t need to know that. And she sure as shit doesn’t need to run to the Pres to tell him everything that goes on.
“Leave!” I bark at her. She plays it off with a cool smile and steps closer to me. “I’m not playing, Savannah. Leave… go and fuck someone else.” Hurt flashes across her face. She tries to hide it as fast as it was there, I saw it though and it’s too late.
“Baby, I had to tell him.” She doesn’t move, she knows her boundaries when I’m mad.
“There was nothing to tell, don’t make me repeat myself.”
She flinches from the harshness of my voice. “I love you,” she whispers.
“You love yourself.”
“That’s not true, baby.”
“Savannah, do I have to repeat myself?”
Her head drops and she looks back to me, her blue eyes shining under the lights. “I’ll wait baby, forever…” She leaves the last word on her tongue as she opens the door and walks out.
I pack a bag, a small bag and step out. No one stops or even sees me when I leave. Maybe this was what they were afraid of, or maybe that’s what they expected.
I need answers and there’s only one place I can get them, so I’m going back.
The drive was long, it made me wonder if it was worth it. Worth coming all this way to somewhere where I met a man who seemed to know me. That smile, though, it’s stuck in my head like glue. It was like he was happy I was doing it. Like it was expected of me.
A knock sounds on my hotel door. Opening it, I find Sax standing there, his name was on his card. He nods his head and pushes into the room. Walking to the table and sitting down he uncaps two beers, one for himself then he slides one over to me, once I’m standing next to the table. I look at it, knowing I won’t drink it and slide it back.
“Just the same,” he says, spinning his bottle in his hand. The lid is back on the bottle. I didn’t even see him do that, and I don’t miss anything.
“You know me?” The seat screeches as I pull it out, I sit on it staring at this man.
He nods his head.
“I do.”
“How?”
“Work.” He smirks and I know he’s not talking about a normal nine to five job. “Come to this address tonight and wear a suit,” he says standing, grabbing his beers. He walks past me and stops at my bed, looks down at my gun case and brushes his fingers along it. “Some things never change, I guess.” And then he’s gone. Leaving me sitting there wondering what he could be talking about.
I realize I never did get any answers out of him. What he did discuss was brief, but nothing with any detail. I glance at the invite he just handed me and notice that it’s a gala event. I know the price for a table at this place is quite high. All proceeds going to a foundation called Red. I grab my phone and search for it.
Why should I entertain going to this place?
Will it really give me the answers I need?
Red
An organization to help women with addictions. No matter the range of dependency, we offer rehabilitation facilities, group therapy, as well as one-on-one with a psychologist.
Drugs, why would I want to go to a place that helps other people cure addictions and help raise money for that? Why do I feel the need to go?
The phone rings in my pocket, so I retrieve it.
“Savannah,” I answer, she hasn’t stopped calling.
“Baby come back, please.” I hear hushed whispers on the other end. Someone’s speaking to her.
“Put him on.” I hear the shuffle of the phone then his heavy breathing.
“You can’t leave like that, Trace. This is not how we do things. Rules are to be followed.”
“I don’t follow any rules.”
“You can’t leave the brotherhood. It’s death if you do.” He’s used that line on me before, multiple times. A fate worse than death, but he never follows through.
“I’m not your property, Grover. You’d do well to remember that!”
“The minute you wore that cut you became my property.” He’s angry now, at me disrespecting him. “You have a week. If you’re not back by then, you know what follows.” The phone disconnects and I realize he’s just hung up on me. I look back to my phone seeing the Red foundation flash on my screen.
It's time to buy a suit. It’s time to start working things out.
“Does it look okay?”
Jake nods his head, a smile bright on his face. He grabs my hand and twirls me in front of the mirror while smiling brightly. He’s been my best friend for five solid years, and he’s here, at my house almost every day. I sometimes wonder why? Doesn’t he have better things to do than waste his time with me?
Surely he could be at home, with a woman in his bed. I know he isn’t shy about fucking, he speaks of it often to me. I sometimes think he forgets I’m a woman, but not Liam. Which is who I think he used to talk to the way he does to me. I’ve learned to take it, hush back his strong language, especially around the kids. He’s good, though, too good. I often wonder if that’s what he wants, a family to call his own. Even though he would never need one, mine is enough for the both of us.
“Does it look okay?” His eyebrows raise in a mocking tone. “If you were not my best friend, I would bend you over backward and make you a gymnas
t.” I blush, my cheeks are now bright red. He does this to me—often. He knows I haven’t been with anyone for years. That I just don’t have the desire for someone else. Sometimes all I want though is to be fucked and fucked hard. I want that intimate connection, that moment of pure bliss, where nothing else matters in the world just that high.
He knows me too well. Even knows where my vibrator is located, the smart ass.
“Don’t go blushing on me sweetheart, it makes my Jimmy excited.” I smack his shoulder, ‘Jimmy’ is his cock, which he talks about often, too bloody often.
“You better not be saying naughty words all night. It’s a big night, I have to be thinking clearly, Jake.”
He stands straight, his back snapping up and he salutes me. “On my best behavior, madam.” A giggle forms in my throat. Sitting on the bed, I place on my red high heels to match my bright red dress which fits perfectly. It took me five different shops and trying on twenty different dresses to find the perfect one. My body isn’t what it used to be, my boobs are not the same, and my stomach isn’t as flat. I have stretch marks in places that I shouldn’t have stretch marks. Like, who the fuck gets them on their vagina? Well, I did for one. I have to wear undies that suck my belly in. Liam was such a big baby that the amount of skin that I had left over after childbirth hangs over my underwear. So suck me in panties are now my new favorite. Jake tells me I’m beautiful, and my family does as well. I wouldn’t say I’m ugly, not at all. But I have insecurities, ones that weren’t there before I had Liam.
Jake coughs and makes me look up to him, he’s dressed in a suit. I wanted to laugh when I first saw him. He’s never been in a suit before, well that I’ve ever seen. He looks gorgeous, like leave-your-mouth-hanging-open gorgeous. His tattoos that cascade over his body are covered, you can still see the ones on his knuckles, though. He said it’s only for me, and only for tonight. He knows how special this evening is to me. I’ve worked so hard to build this, to help other women, women who wouldn’t have had the chance to survive, or even ended up like me. None of them had a savior, none of them had a Liam Black—no, he was purely mine. He was my ruin and my saving grace all in one beautiful dark package.
