by Lane Hart
“Oh yeah. I’ve got you,” I agree, and he thankfully lifts his forearm from my throat. Glaring at the others, he stomps out of the bar.
“You all right?” Roman asks, offering me a hand up that I refuse.
“What the fuck do you think?” I ask him. “A man who can kill me with his pinkie just threatened my life about some shit he’s made up in his psychotic melon head.”
“You’re married?” Marcus asks as he wanders over to the door to open it and see if the big buffoon has left yet.
“Not unless he got hitched after he joined our chapter,” Roman grits out as he puts his gun away. “Reece does the background checks, and there were no marriage filings. What gives, Nolan? Do we need to kill that big bastard?”
Of course they had the original Savage Kings IT genius look into us before we patched in here. I’ve known from day one that they didn’t trust us nomads and never would.
“Did you elope or some shit recently?” Roman asks.
“No, I didn’t elope, and I sure as hell am not married!” I exclaim. “I don’t know what the hell the fucker was talking about!”
“You do know a Rita…” Abel trails off.
“Yeah? So? It can’t be the same one. I haven’t heard from her in years.” It was five years last month to be exact, not that I’ve been keeping track.
“Why not?” Hugo asks. “She made your life hell before. Maybe she’s decided to do it again!”
“Who is Rita?” Roman demands, hands on his hips in annoyance at having his afternoon interrupted by a giant bar-crasher.
“The crazy bitch Nolan went to prison for five years ago,” Abel answers before I can say anything. I glare at him in thanks for opening up that can of worms.
“That was my decision. Not hers,” I remind him and Hugo.
Frowning, Roman says, “You went to prison for a B&E and larceny, right?”
“Yeah, but I didn’t do that shit, not really. I just told the cops I did.”
Roman’s brow furrows. “So, the same woman who let you take the fall for her five years ago is now suddenly sending some big motherfucker to threaten you to divorce her, even though you were never married?”
“She didn’t let me take the fall. It was…complicated,” I tell him. “And I have no clue why she would tell him we’re married when we only dated for a few weeks five fucking years ago.”
“Well, you better find out,” Roman grumbles. “Everything is finally peaceful around here for once. We don’t need any new enemies.”
“He was on a Harley,” Marcus informs us when he comes back from the door. “Possibly even a member of another MC.”
“He wasn’t wearing a cut,” Jake, one of the prospects, so helpfully offers.
“Probably because they don’t come in extra motherfucking large,” Hugo replies.
“They would need an entire herd of cows to make that son of a bitch’s leather cut,” Abel adds with a chuckle.
“You need to track down this Rita and figure out what’s going on before you end up dead in a ditch,” Roman tells me.
“Yeah, I know,” I say with a sigh.
“If you’ve got a last name, I’ll have Reece look her up,” Roman offers. I nod my agreement as I follow him back to his office, feeling like my guts have all been rearranged.
I haven’t seen or heard from Rita Collins since the morning before I turned myself in to the police station. I thought she would be happy I took the fall instead of her or her brother, but then nothing, not a single word.
Hell, sometimes I just wonder what the fuck I was thinking back then. Still, it wasn’t totally on her. It was my own damn fault for falling for her too fast, thinking she felt the same way about me.
I sure as shit won’t make that same mistake again.
Chapter Eleven
Rita
I hurry down the cereal aisle, grabbing the first thing my hand touches and tossing it in the shopping cart. It feels like I’m a contestant on one of those grocery shopping games where you’re working against the timer, buying as much shit as you can before time is up.
That constant ticking clock is how I’ve lived my entire life.
I get up at six a.m. to shower and get ready for my office job that still doesn’t have any benefits after six years. Then, I have about an hour or two in the afternoon to change, eat dinner, and then get my ass to the strip club where I’m still stuck working as a waitress. God, this is not where I thought I’d be at thirty.
But I’m so close to the finish line I can almost see it.
My little brother is a senior in college, so close to graduating with a four-year business degree. I’m so proud of Cory. He nearly fucked up his life before it started, hanging out with a bad group and missing school. But then suddenly he straightened out, graduated with decent grades, then went to community college for two years before transferring to get his bachelors. He’s so much smarter than me. All I’ve wanted for him since I was old enough to know better was to give him a chance at a better life.
Tuition, housing, and all that goes with the college experience has been a beast to wrangle with everyday living expenses, but Cory has helped as much as he can. I wanted him to focus on studying instead of working, knowing that if it got to be too stressful, he would drop out, and then working multiple jobs to support us both since I was nineteen would’ve been for nothing.
I wheel my cart down the last aisle, grabbing a half gallon of milk and orange juice before finally making my way to the checkout.
I luck up and find one of the self-checkout lanes clear, so I ring up the few supplies I need to get me through another week, bag them while waiting for the clerk to enter in a code or whatever, pay with a debit card, and then I’m out of there in record time.
As I push the cart across the bumpy, uneven parking lot to my car, I lift my phone from my purse to check the time.
I’m down to twenty minutes to unload groceries while eating a quick bite of…something, changing, and then it’s off to serve beers to a bunch of losers who come to see tits on a Monday night.
“One more year. Just one more year,” I say to myself as I shove my phone away and then scream when a hand shoots out and stops my cart an inch before it hits the bumper of my ancient car. I nearly give myself the Heimlich on the front bar of the cart when it rams into my chest. My long hair flies in front of my face as I relearn how to breathe.
“Jesus! Ah, thanks I guess,” I say to the stranger as I flip my hair out of my face. Then my jaw drops when I finally look up at his face. “Nolan?” I exclaim in disbelief.
I was starting to think that maybe I had imagined the tall, dark, and handsome man in leather and jeans. The one who showed up night after night at the club until I finally caved and went out with him, which led to several weeks of amazing sex before he disappeared.
“Oh good. You do remember more than my name,” he says, voice just as rumbly and sexy as I remember.
“Remember…of course I remember you! Hard to forget the man who treated me like a queen, until the day you left without even a freaking note!”
His forehead creases, and he just stares at me blankly as if I’m speaking in a foreign language.
“What are you doing here?” I ask. Remembering I don’t have time for this painful little blast from my past, I dig my keys from my purse to pop the trunk.
“You know, I was just as surprised as you are right now when I had my own visitor show up looking for me yesterday,” Nolan responds through gritted teeth. “Big guy, about seven feet tall, bald and wider than a football field. Does that ring any bells?”
I gasp in shock, eyes lowering to the grocery bags I get busy moving to the trunk. “Leroy…he-he really tracked you down?”
“If that’s the big guy’s name, then yeah, he did. And I didn’t have a fucking clue what he was talking about when he was cutting off my oxygen and telling me to give you a divorce!”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I wish the ground would just open up right here and now
and take me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think he would actually find you, much less confront you!”
Damn it! The last thing I need is to have to sleep with the big, nasty bastard, but I can’t let him kill a man even if he did break my heart years ago.
“I’ll smooth things over with Leroy,” I say with a slam of my trunk. “Sorry he bothered you.”
“Why did you lie to him?” Nolan asks as I take the cart to the return rack where it belongs.
“It’s…a long story,” I say as I start for my driver door. “He won’t bother you again.”
“Rita, wait,” Nolan says. His hand grabs my arm when I reach for the door handle. “What the fuck is going on? I don’t hear from you for five years, and then you’re suddenly telling some asshole we’re married?”
“I don’t have time to go into this right now,” I say with a sigh as I jerk my arm free from his grip. It took too long for me to forget how good he could make me feel after he ran off without a word. Like a fool, I kept waiting for him to come back or call. Even a letter or email would have been appreciated instead of just wondering if or when I would hear from him again. “I have to go, but I am sorry he confronted you, Nolan. Really. I was desperate, and your name was the first one I thought of. From there it just sort of…snowballed.”
When a man as big and tough as Leroy sets his sights on you, even more determined to have me than Nolan was years ago, well, there’s not much I can do to stop him from just taking what he wants. The Rebel Henchmen MC aren’t known for being refused anything. Ever. And now that they provide security to the strip club, well, if I don’t give in to Leroy eventually, I’ll probably lose my job and the tips that I can’t live without just yet.
“You’re still working at the strip club,” Nolan says, making it a statement rather than a question.
“How do you know that?” I ask him.
“You’re better than that shit, Rita.”
“It’s only for another year and then I’m done.” I’ll never step foot in a strip club again when I quit, that’s for sure.
“You’re paying for Cory to party it up at school while you work your ass off for him?”
“Cory is doing great. He’s going to graduate soon, and then I’ll be free.”
“Free, huh?” he repeats. “With your new man, Leroy?”
“Deep down I’m sure he’s just a big softie,” I lie. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
“It is my business when you send some crazy motherfucker to my doorstep, threatening to kill me because he thinks we’re married!”
“I said I was sorry, okay? What more do you want?”
“Nothing,” he grits out. “I don’t want a single fucking thing from you.”
With that, he turns around and strides off angrily before climbing on a shiny, new Harley and driving off into the sunset.
Chapter Twelve
Nolan
I’m angry as fuck on the two-hour ride back to Myrtle Beach from Cape Cartwright. How dare she act pissed off at me? And sure, she apologized for siccing her attack dog on me, but not once did she bother to thank me for everything I sacrificed for her five years ago.
That’s all I’ve wanted is two words – Thank you. Is that too much to ask for?
A fucking explanation as to why she didn’t bother visiting me or writing would be great too, but I don’t think I want to hear those words come out of her mouth.
She didn’t care about me enough to stick around while I was in prison. That’s what this comes down to.
What I want to do right now more than anything is to drink myself into a stupor and maybe find a warm body to lose myself in for the rest of the night.
Instead, Abel and Hugo are waiting for me outside of the MC’s clubhouse when I back my bike into a spot.
“What’s up?” I ask them as soon as I cut the engine on my Harley. They’re both smoking like freight trains, puffing down their cigarettes like they’re about to head out and it’s going to be a long ride.
“Roman’s looking for you.”
“Yeah? I’m not surprised,” I mutter, climbing off my bike, my fists clenched with the urge to hit something, anything. Taking all that anger into the bar and laying out our president wouldn’t be smart, though. Roman would give as good as he gets, and the former Marine may knock what little brains I have left out of my head.
“Where the hell have you been anyway? We’ve been calling you to give you a warning to lay low,” Abel says.
“I went to confront Rita,” I admit to them.
“Why the fuck would you want to go see that ungrateful bitch?” Hugo asks, making me wince at the insult. The old Rita I thought I knew and practically lived with for a few weeks wasn’t a bitch. She was sweet and self-conscious, just trying to be the best big sister she could be, taking care of her brother after they lost their parents so young.
“I wanted to know why she lied about us to that giant motherfucker,” I admit. “And maybe I thought she might finally show a little gratitude for me spending two years in a goddamn prison for her shithead brother.”
“I still can’t believe you took the fall for that kid,” Abel huffs. “She set you up, man.”
“She didn’t set me up,” I assure him. “She didn’t ask me to help him. That was my stupid ass decision. One I’m still paying for with monthly visits from my probation officer.” I take a deep breath trying to calm myself down before I go talk to Roman. The Myrtle Beach Savage Kings didn’t have to take the three of us nomads into their chapter three years ago when I needed to put down roots or get sent back to prison. One of us would’ve maybe been welcome, but three strangers in a new town where we didn’t know anyone was a huge risk – one Roman took to increase his numbers. I bet he’s regretting trusting us now that I’m somehow responsible for a beef with the giant of another MC.
“I just can’t understand why that bitch would lie about being married to you,” Hugo says.
“Either she’s crazy or desperate,” Abel agrees as he tosses his cigarette down to the pavement and stomps it out with the toe of his boot.
“Desperate?” I ask in confusion. Wait, I think Rita even said she was desperate… . “I was desperate, and your name was the first one I thought of.”
“Yeah, desperate to get the big fucker off her ass?” he offers. “Maybe he wanted to take her out and he wouldn’t take no for an answer until she lied and said she was married.”
“Even if that’s why she lied, she didn’t have to drag Nolan’s name into her shit,” Hugo mutters.
Abel shrugs and looks from him to me. “Unless you were the only name she could think of that might not get squashed under his boot like a fucking bug.”
“No. No fucking way!” I shout at him. “I’m not going to be her punching bag again. I’ve taken enough punishment for that woman without her thanking me even once!”
“True enough,” Abel agrees. “I didn’t say you should help her. I’m just trying to figure out where she’s coming from. If I were a woman, and someone was screwing with me that I didn’t want to fuck with, I would throw out the name of the toughest motherfucker I knew to get him off my back.”
Chuckling, Hugo says, “You think about being a woman often?”
“Fuck you. You know what I mean, right?” Abel asks me.
“Yeah, I think I do,” I agree just as Roman throws the front door open, drawing all of our attention to the man in charge.
“Get your ass in here, Nolan! I’d like to get home to my wife before midnight for once!”
“Yeah, sorry, prez,” I reply.
“Good fucking luck,” Hugo says under his breath.
“Been nice knowing you,” Abel adds. I flip them both off before following Roman inside. Instead of going to his office, he goes into the chapel, taking his seat at the head of the long wooden table with the bearded skull king logo carved in the center.
“Shut the door and sit down,” he orders.
I do as he asked, taking my seat on the far en
d of the table since us nomads were the last to join the MC, just before Leo patched in.
“You went to see her,” Roman starts off the conversation before my elbows even hit the table.
I don’t bother trying to deny it. “Yeah, I did.”
“Is she going to drag you down yet again somehow? Is she a threat to the rest of us, to the club?”
“She said she was sorry and that she would take care of it…” I trail off, now trying to replay every word she said while thinking about Abel’s angle. Is she scared of the bastard? If she weren’t, she would be stupid…
And thanks to Reece’s intel, I know she’s living alone, her baby brother hundreds of miles away at college in Florida. There’s no man in her life, but the big boy apparently wants to change that.
“Reece said that the Rebel Henchmen MC is providing security for the strip club she works at, didn’t he?”
Roman nods. “Yeah, that’s what he said.”
“Fuck,” I mutter, burying my face in my palms.
“What?” Roman asks.
“Nothing.”
Rita said she wasn’t going to quit working at the club for at least another year, most likely once her dipshit brother graduates college. Which means, if she wants to stay, she’s going to have to give the big bastard what he wants – her.
“The only way I can help you is if you fucking talk to me!” Roman shouts. “You and your nomad buddies keep all your personal shit to yourselves. And that’s perfectly fine with me, until your messes start to spill over into my MC.”
“I don’t know what the fuck to do,” I admit to him, finally lifting my face again.
“Well, what are your options? Be honest with me for once, and I’ll try and help you decide what will hopefully lead to the least amount of bloodshed for everyone involved.”
“I already know what I should do – stay the fuck out of it.”
“But you’re not going to do that, are you?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. Rolling it over and over in my head isn’t helping any, so I decide to lay it all out to him. “If you hadn’t married your wife and you both went your separate ways years ago after she basically abandoned you when you needed her the most, then she needed help, would you try and help her even if she didn’t directly ask you for help or…”
