by C. L. Riley
I don’t care who they take to their beds, I do care if their agenda is real, though.
The whole thing just sounds so fucking bizarre, I’m sure I look as bewildered as I feel.
Out of habit, I glance at Rowdy. He looks at me just like he used to, brow up, his unspoken question clear: Do you believe this bullshit?
I shake my head.
Crusher catches our silent communication and grins. “I see two out of three don’t believe me. But that’s okay. When they come for you or your brothers, you’ll wish you would have listened.”
“What’s in this for you?” Rowdy asks Crusher what I’m thinking.
Boone explains Crusher’s “prize package,” pissing me off even more. “He gets to keep breathing for awhile longer, only because his sister does seek advice from with him about who she’s identified as naughty or nice, who has made the list.”
“And we’re gonna trust him?” I press, my disbelief obvious. “Because he’s always been so honest and upfront.”
“We don’t trust him; we’re watching him. Every conversation with little sis will be recorded. Both sides of their dialogue taped for future reference.”
I am not assured by Boone’s reply. Not at all. “So you don’t think they’ll have code words in place? Besides he’s been off the grid, I doubt she’ll fall for his sudden reappearance and renewed brotherly love.”
Crusher frowns. “You don’t get it. She talks to me, but she doesn’t like me. Calypso, Jenny to me, has been competing with me since she could walk. I’m a biker so she’s a biker. She’ll take my calls, but I don’t think she’s been keeping tabs on me. We go months without speaking.”
I glance again at Rowdy. Like me, he’s still sceptical.
“So what’s my role?” I’m not grasping how I fit into the big scheme of things.
“I’m top of her list,” Boone says, shocking me. “Numero uno.”
“But you saved Olympia. She opened a nonprofit that serves abused women. You’re on the fucking board of directors!” From Rowdy’s response, he’s clearly appalled.
“That’s true, but what is also true: I lied to Olympia and created a huge mess that endangered her. I used Twila and treated her like shit before discarding her like trash. My first wife died from an overdose. It was no secret how angry I was over her constant relapses.”
“What about the fuckers who are raping and selling women. Where are they on this list? Or the ones who beat up their club girls and ol’ ladies; this makes no sense,” Rowdy continues his rant.
“To show I’m trying to help, I’m going to give you my opinion on why Boone’s earned the top spot.”
We all stare at Crusher, waiting for him to go on.
“Twila has met Jenny before, a couple of times...sorry, I mean Cal-yp-so. And, knowing Twila, she may have exaggerated some of Boone’s women hating, past behavior. She might also be headed to Redding to join little sis’ MC. Knowing what I do about Twila, my sister’s club is probably the only place where she feels safe from you guys.”
“Fucking Twila! Again!” Rowdy roars. “What did I ever see in that bitch?”
Crusher answers, “What we all saw; hot body, perfect tits―thanks to you―nice tats, and the ability to suck dick like a fucking Hoover. She was a great fuck.”
I expect either Boone or Rowdy to give Crusher a good pounding. Instead both hang their heads.
I’m the one man in the room who hasn’t been buried balls deep in the treacherous bitch. Thank God for that.
“We all agree, Twila’s a ruthless little bitch. So, again, I ask. Where do I come in?” I’m starting to think I’ll walk out of here today, but with an assignment I don’t want.
Boone sighs, running his fingers through his hair the same way Rowdy does. “I want you to find this Calypso and bring her to us. Feel free to grab Twila while you’re at it. We need to find out how they intend to meet their goals. Who is backing them? Who’s on their payroll? What assets do they have? The works. We need all of it.
“I already had Spyder do a little digging. The club does exist. They’ve managed to stay off the main grid, ensuring they are basically unaccounted for in the MC world, and that’s dangerous. Don’t involve the FBI in an official capacity, but if you can access their databases or information without them catching on, feel free. I want this bitch and her crazy club brought down.”
“I’ll do it, but where does that leave us?” I look to Rowdy for the answer to this question.
His gaze slides to Boone, and he shifts uneasily. “Someone in your family let the word get out. The wrong people know that you worked with law enforcement. They don’t know with what agency, but they know enough to be rabid about revenge. We can’t look weak. Not now. We gotta green light you.
“But, the Soul Scorchers and Hells Guardians will stand down. No one will know this, of course, but we won’t put any resources toward finding you, in fact, we’ll be helping you deal with Satan’s Sirens. I already negotiated with Wrench, even before I knew about this other shit. The order is to bring you to Seal’s Cove, alive. But you know how that goes. Bikers don’t like cops.”
“No shit,” I snap, but Rowdy doesn’t stop.
“We’ll give you seventy-two hours before the contract goes out. Once you bring us Calypso, we’ll cancel it. We will announce that we found you ourselves. Boone and I, we want you alive, in spite of all the lies and your badge.”
Of course the promised freedom isn’t guaranteed. I still have to elude all my hunters, but at least I won’t have to worry about the two biggest clubs coming for me.
I know I’ve been given a gift. It might not seem like that to someone outside our world, but I understand, had it been anyone else, that person would be in the ground already.
Now I just have to figure out how to juggle everything with my new relationship. Cheryl’s waiting anxiously for me to come back, and there is someone in The Family not heeding my old man’s decree to leave me alone. That’s another problem.
As if that isn’t enough, the FBI should be brought up to speed on this all-female MC, which puts me at odds with my employer.
I don’t voice my worries to Boone or Rowdy.
Other than my relationship with Cheryl, they are no doubt aware of these challenges.
With some of the clubs’ best mercenaries chasing my ass, I’m going to be a very busy, very wanted man.
It could be worse. I could be dead.
Rowdy
October 2016
Seal’s Cove, Oregon
Exactly one year ago today, I was staring the Grim Reaper in the face, waiting for him to drag me from the land of the living through death’s doorway.
Instead, I used another of my nine―get out of dying―lives and survived; ultimately thriving, all because of the woman in the doctor’s office, waiting for my arrival.
I lean on the wall outside the smoked glass door, afraid to turn the knob. My stomach is clenched, and it’s difficult to control my breathing.
She’d gone in for an annual check up, no big deal, right?
In our case―wrong.
I got her message thirty minutes ago. She was in tears, begging me to come to the doctor’s immediately.
It’s breast cancer or something wrong with her stomach. I just know it. She’s been feeling exhausted the past few weeks, and I hear her puking in the morning when she thinks I don’t. She’s complained about her breasts being tender too.
All signs point to something serious.
This King will not be able to rule without his Queen.
“Open the fucking door,” I hiss to myself.
“Um, excuse you. Big ears listening.”
I turn to find a young woman, covering a boy’s ears with her palms. He’s about six, maybe seven.
What I want to do is yell...my wife is dying, and then inform her that her son will hear far worse if he hasn’t already.
Instead, I open the door and trail in behind them.
The window at check-in cou
nter slides to the right and a plump, matronly woman motions me closer. “You must be Mr. Richards. Your wife is expecting you.”
“How did you―”
She doesn’t let me finish. “She said you’d be wearing a leather vest with patches.”
I forgot I was still in my cut. I might have put on something more professional to hear my wife’s prognosis, if I’d had time.
“Come this way, they’re waiting for you.” She opens a side door and motions me into the back patient area.
She’s smiling; something I find unnerving, considering we’re facing a death sentence. “Who is waiting?” I manage to ask.
“Your wife and the doctor’s assistant.”
“Not the doctor?” I’m about to complain. It should be the actual doctor delivering bad news, not some lowly assistant.
When did I get so arrogant? The doctor has other patients, and it took far longer than I wanted to break away from my meeting. I should be thankful there’s a medical provider on hand to give us the news and our options.
“Here you are. Just go right in,” my guide instructs before making a U-turn back to her post.
I reach for the handle and hesitate. Trina is laughing along with the assistant.
Perhaps she’s confident about her plan to attack whatever disease threatens her existence. My wife is a nurse and a damn good one, after all.
They continue to talk and giggle, and I feel like an uninvited intruder.
After another long minute, I form a fist and knock, giving them enough time to compose themselves. Sometimes when Trina’s overwhelmed she laughs. That’s probably the case now.
The door swings open and an attractive woman, about Trina’s age, gives me a bright smile. “It took you long enough,” she teases. “We were about to order pizza. Your wife is hungry.”
I glance at Trina. She’s glowing. For a dying woman, she looks healthier than ever.
“Rowdy, why are you looking at me like that? What’s wrong?” She reaches for me, and I force my feet to move.
When I am finally close enough, she grabs my hand and pulls me into the seat beside her. “There’s a test result I’d like to share with you. I want you to feel free to ask questions.”
I was right. It’s about test results.
The women exchange knowing looks, but neither appears particularly upset, more like they share a secret and are dying to reveal it.
Before they have the chance to say anything, the door is pushed all the way open, and what has to be the doctor strides in, clipboard in hand.
“You must be the happy father.” I shake his hand, attempting to make sense of his words.
I’m guessing he’s seen too many patients today and has me mixed up with some other guy. “No, not me. You’ve got the wrong room. I’m not a father.”
“Oh, I see. He doesn’t know yet.”
“Know what?” My head is spinning, and all three of them are looking at me like I’m an idiot. I certainly feel stupid. I’m missing something obvious.
“Would you excuse us?” Trina asks.
Both the doctor and his assistant look relieved to close the door behind them.
Trina grabs my hands. “For someone so smart, you are slow to catch on.”
“Just tell me. For fucks sake. Will you need chemo? What are your odds? Be honest, please.”
“Rowdy, I’m not dying. Good God. Is that what you thought?” She seems to finally notice just how distraught I am. “Oh shit. I’m so sorry. I’m totally healthy and we’re having a baby. I’m pregnant not sick.”
I know my mouth is gaping, but I can’t form a single word.
Trina is on birth control. She’s faithful taking it, and has always said kids were something to discuss down the road.
I’m older, and I don’t want to wait as long. I’d told her several times recently that I wanted a baby sooner rather than later.
“Say something, please. You’re scaring me.” Her eyes are wide and moist. She’s about to cry. I know the signs.
My voice thaws. “Babe, fuck. I’m so happy. How did I not see this? All the signs were there. I thought something was wrong.”
I finally pull her into my arms, kissing her until she’s squirming.
“Have I told you today how much I love you?” I whisper against her mouth.
“This morning,” she whispers. “I don’t know how it happened. I took my pills.”
“I don’t care how. I’m just so fucking happy. You just turned the worse day in my life into the best.”
“You’re not mad?”
“Mad? Why would you think that? I told you last week I wanted to be a father before I was fifty.”
“You’re barely past forty, and there has been so much going on with Demon and that girl MC. I was worried you might not be happy.”
“Trust me, I’ve never been happier. So, are we having a prince or princess?” I realize my mistake the minute the words are out.
Fuck. The “P” word. Princess. How could I forget something like that at a time like this?
I wait for the tears, but none come. Trina just smiles. “It’s a little too soon to tell, but prince or princess, either is fine, as long as I’ve got my King to help change diapers.”
I know then my wife has accepted her wings at last.
“What are you thinking now?” she asks, sounding breathless.
“You look damn good in those butterfly wings.”
“And you look fucking amazing in your cut, Bimbo.”
So she wants to go there? Back to the Twenties theme night lingo. Okay by me. I’m game.
“Oh, I’ll show you a Mr. Tough Macho Man.”
And I do, until the doctor comes back to see why we haven’t left yet.
He now has a vivid image of how the royal baby was conceived, and we have our first story for the baby book.
The End
A note about Traumatic Brain Injuries (TBI)
From the Brain Injury Association of America:
https://www.biausa.org/brain-injury
Brain injury is unpredictable in its consequences. Brain injury affects who we are and the way we think, act, and feel. It can change everything about us in a matter of seconds. The most important things to remember are:
A person with a brain injury is a person first.
No two brain injuries are exactly the same.
The effects of a brain injury are complex and vary greatly from person to person.
The effects of a brain injury depend on such factors as cause, location, and severity.
Both Rowdy and Dr. Martin experienced brain injuries. Each was affected differently. And certainly becoming a serial killer isn’t a proven result of having a TBI. But it is indeed a fact that each person is very different, and many athletes from pro football to pro wrestling and boxing, can attest to the dramatic results following a TBI.
There is so much to learn about this topic and our brains.
I incorporated the topic into my story because it is personal to me. I dated a wonderful man who had stepped into a fight outside a London pub in the 1980’s, attempting to keep several men from harassing a young woman. He ended up getting his skull kicked in by multiple steel-toed boots. It forever changed his life.
No longer able to drive due to seizures, he had to find new employment and alter the way he lived. I watched him struggle with learning new skills and with his self-esteem. We eventually parted as friends, but his experience impacted me, making me more aware.
There are also many people who don’t acknowledge or accept that they’ve had a TBI; others know but refuse to admit they are affected by the experience, making treatment and support difficult. There are certainly similarities with symptoms, but bottom line, no two people are alike. At my current “day job” I work with individuals who experience a wide range of disabilities. I deal with my own as well. Our agency offers a TBI support group.
My hope is you will be more aware and supportive when you meet someone who might have suffered
a brain injury. It is my hope this book has brought attention to this often overlooked and misunderstood disability and the individuals who experience TBI consequences.
Also by C.L. Riley
You met Boone and Olympia in Rowdy’s story. Would you like to go on a new thrill ride where this unlikely couple discovers romance in the midst of darkness and danger and a whole lot of deceit?
If so, you will want to read Scorched Souls: The Complete SAGA
http://a.co/d/f5OEKiT
It includes the four, original novellas (Firetrap, Firefight, Firestorm, and Fireworks) and a bonus Christmas scene. You will meet Rowdy for the first time, too!
Also available
You heard Trina talk multiple times about her favorite band Crude Element and their lead singer, Shag Steel. Discover how he earned his nickname in Bad Beats: A Rockstar Romance. http://a.co/d/9CyGhoJ
Acknowledgments
There are so many people to thank when putting together a book. First I want to thank God, my Creator. Without you, I am nothing. You give us our dreams and the power to carry them out.
Next, my kids, now adults, and pursuing their own dreams...thank you Jordyn and Jayde for putting up with a crazy mom who often had her head buried in a book (or later, was found staring at her Kindle screen) or who was typing away, creating her own stories.
You two were/are my biggest fans. I love you.
Don’t laugh; I need to thank my dog Stryder and cat Ruby. These two are by my side through thick and thin. They’ve heard more of my book ideas than any one person. My furry family members know all my secrets. It’s a good thing they speak meow and bark only!
To my book designer at Mayhem Cover Creations, what an amazing cover for Rowdy. Thank you! To Mandi Murphy thank you so much for animating the cover and making it so Rowdy could actually check us out with those dark eyes of his. And thank you to my book’s formatter, the wonderful Affordable Formatting, and Vicki Adrian with All Cover Book Designs who created the Hells Guardian patch. You are all awesome! I appreciate you so much.
