BIKER DADDY_The Chain Gang MC

by Claire St. Rose

  “A word? A week? A kiss? Zoya, I don’t know, but there’s an entire revolution in my being for you. I can’t pretend I’m okay with the powers that be telling us we can’t be together. This doesn’t feel like it’s a decision you or I made, regardless of your argument to the contrary. You did it to save us the hardship, but, babe…what’s a little hardship if I’ve got you?” He gave a half-smile. He didn’t know exactly how much of what he was saying was able to be back up, but he was willing to give it 100 percent to show her that he was willing to keep going if she was.

  She licked her trembling lips. Her fingers moved over his hand, and she cupped his palm to her cheek, inhaling deeply for the first time since he showed up at the table. His familiar scent clouded her thoughts and made her sigh in surrender because everything he was saying made perfect sense to her addled mind. She just wanted the contact, to touch him, caress him, and remind him of the things she hadn’t forgotten.

  “We’d have to be careful,” she whispered furtively. “We couldn’t be seen in public. We’d have to sneak, and everything would have to be done in secrecy. Could you handle that?”

  “Baby, I’ve handled far worse. Trust me,” he said with a grin. Hope winged upwards within his fragile heart. Was she really telling him there was a chance they could get back together? “I haven’t been able to get you out of my thoughts, Zoya. I’d walk over hot coals for you…well, figuratively.” He chuckled. Micah stole a kiss, a small one. Zoya giggled and blushed, kissing him back.

  “Callie is going to be pleased; I can tell you that. She’s been advocating for you.”

  “I knew there was a reason I liked your friend.” He grinned and rose from the picnic table. “You’ll have to indulge me, beloved. I just want to see you dance one time.” He gathered her in his arms, Zoya’s eyes skating nervously to see if anyone was watching them. He directed her gaze back to his. “And, then I plan to whisk you away on the back of my motorcycle and show you, beautiful girl, just how much I genuinely appreciate a second chance with you.”

  “Oh, really?” she said breathlessly, smiling shyly. “How do you plan on doing that, biker boy?”

  “Dance first. I miss the way you move.”

  He took Zoya by the hand and pulled her with him back into the building, feeling a sense of excitement that hadn’t been there before. He knew, somewhere in the crowded bar, the rest of his crew was wondering where he had disappeared to. He knew Quinn would have words for him, and Pinwheel would have a disappointed look. However, Micah didn’t care what any of them had to say about it. Zoya was his.

  He pushed past a drunken gentleman who stumbled out of his way as Micah exuberantly made his way to the dance floor. Zoya stopped short when she saw who the man was.

  “Oh, no! Miad,” she whispered in fear.

  “What?” Micah couldn’t hear her above the music. He leaned in close, and she buried her face in his chest. Zoya hurriedly snatched off her hijab to disguise herself, hoping Miad hadn’t seen her.

  “My brother. He’s here,” she whispered in terror.

  “What? Where?” He looked around, but the place was too dimly lit to spot a face he had only seen once on a dark night in passing. He clutched Zoya by the shoulders and put his arm around her, hiding the hijab that hung from her neck now like a scarf. He knew it had to be causing her intense discomfort to be so uncovered, but he also understood she was trying not to be recognized. “I’ll get you out of here.”

  CHAPTER 12 Zoya trembled, as she moved step by step with Micah shielding her. They moved toward the exit at a snail’s pace it seemed. There were too many people blocking their path, too many hang-ups along the way. She fought panic, trying not to look back. The door was within sight, and they had barely ten paces to get to it. They would’ve made it.

  Except, Callie spotted them and called out loudly, “Zoya! Micah! Where are you guys going? I’m over here!” She waved her hands. Callie shimmied around in a circle to the music. She was dancing with a sexy shirtless biker, and she didn’t even realize that she had written Zoya’s fate.

  Miad’s head lolled forward and snapped back, as he struggled to straighten to his full height. He was leaning against the bar, but at the sound of his sister’s name, he gazed dazedly at Callie, realized who she was, and followed the direction of her gesticulations. Zoya froze on the spot, locking her knees.

  “He sees us.”

  “Come on, Zoya. We’ll take my bike. We’ll lose him.”

  She wanted to scream in frustration and anger at the hopelessness of the situation! No one understood, least of all Micah. There was no running from what was expected. Her only hope was to mitigate the confrontation.

  Miad was drunk. Zoya didn’t want to have to deal with her brother in front of the whole biker bar. She pushed past Micah and made her way outside, knowing this time her boyfriend would follow her. She couldn’t run off like the night Miad had caught them kissing. Micah wasn’t letting her out of his sight.

  She briskly walked into the parking lot and waited some distance away from the door of the biker bar. It was only ten-something, and there were revelers still filing into the establishment. Miad forced his way through the line and stumbled in their direction.

  “You don’t have to put up with his bullying, Zoya. You don’t have to do anything he says.” Micah’s face was set in a fierce scowl, his fist balled. It would’ve been gallant if not for the fact his stance would definitely add fuel to the fire. Zoya gestured in the negative.

  “Micah, I’m fine. I’ll take care of this.”

  He breathed heavily, as adrenaline pumped through him. Never one to back down from a fight, he would very gladly put Miad back in his place if Zoya let him. He faced the approaching young man, shoulders squared. Zoya put a gentle hand on his wrist, and Micah looked down at her, realizing she was getting upset. He took her hand in his and squeezed. She smiled shakily, gratefully. “I’ve got to diffuse the situation before anything gets out of hand. If you want to help me, stay cool. Do you understand?”

  “Zoya!” Miad shouted her name furiously. He stepped closer, feet spread, and steadied himself. Miad fumed and Micah bristled, but he held himself in check. Zoya desperately stepped between the two men who stared at each other with unwavering eyes. She put a hand to Micah’s chest, and he backed down, but Miad grabbed her by the other hand and pulled her away from Micah.

  “Don’t you dare hurt her!” Micah growled, menacingly.

  “Hurt her? I’m trying to keep her safe from the likes of you! You think I don’t know what you’re up to, infidel? I know what you want from my sister, and I won’t stand idly by and let you destroy her rep-reputation,” Miad slurred. He wiped a thin stream of spittle from his mouth that had escaped with his outburst and pointed a shaky accusatory finger at Zoya. “And, you! You gave me your word, you liar. You’ve continued to see him.”

  “I haven’t, Miad. I swear; I have not. We ran into each other here. Miad, please!” Zoya clutched at the collar of her brother’s shirt and tried to drag him away. “Let’s go somewhere we can talk. I can explain.”

  “Why are you here in the first place? More lies, lies, lies! I will never trust you again, jende ! Harlot! I should’ve followed my first instinct and made your transgressions known, but no! I gave you the chance to redeem yourself. You are a weak woman and a schemer. This time I will tell Maman and Baba…after I teach this insolent dool what we do to bastards like him for defiling our women!”

  A switchblade materialized in his unsteady hand. Zoya let out a sharp sound of stunned disbelief. Miad breathed through his mouth, appearing more focused the angrier he got. He blinked, and his blurred vision cleared.

  “Put down your toy, Miad. I’m not fighting you,” Micah sighed. Judging by the stench of liquor roiling off the man, Micah could take him out without breaking a sweat. Miad was drunk, and the alcohol was making him brave but stupid. Micah was twice his size, in better shape and completely sober. Plus, Micah had a pistol in the holster at his hip, a kn
ife in the top of his boots, and brass knuckles in his back pocket. All that was on top of years and years of fist fights and bar brawls. The idiot didn’t stand a chance.

  Micah held up his hands and took another step back. “You don’t have a right to control Zoya anymore, Miad. And, how do you get off calling her names but jeer at me as if I’ve disrespected her in some way? How fucking hypocritical. Let her decide. Zoya?” His blue eyes flew to her face. She shook her head subtly, and Micah bit back a frustrated retort. He had been about to ask her to choose whether she wanted to come with him or go with her brother, but he saw the decision in her defeated expression.

  “Micah, I need to take my brother home. He can’t drive like this.”

  As much as it galled him, Micah nodded understanding. Maybe it wasn’t the time. Her brother was clearly in no state for debate or driving. He conceded to Zoya’s wisdom on the situation—despite the fact he wanted to break Miad’s smug face just for the audacity of trying to step to him. That didn’t include what he wanted to do to the man for causing Zoya distress.

  Miad chuckled dryly, yanking Zoya behind him. She was thrown to the ground by his viciousness. Micah shouted in anger and went to her aid, but Miad pushed him back. “She’s coming with me, and my retribution will be delivered.” Miad abruptly lunged forward with the knife. Micah furiously and effortlessly chopped at the man’s wrist and sent the knife flying. In turn, Miad doubled over, clutching his arm. “Ah!” he gasped in pain.

  Resisting the urge to kick him in the gut, Micah knelt beside Zoya and swiped her hair back from her face. She was crying silently. The look on her face made his heart clench. Micah shook his head, no longer siding with her decision to let Miad intentionally or unintentionally control her actions. Let the prick find his own way home.

  “Uh-uh,” he murmured, helping her up. “I’m not letting you go with him like this. He’s in no condition to be reasoned with, Zoya. Please, take my advice and ride home with Callie if you don’t want to ride home with me…because I can’t be held accountable for what I might do to him if he hurts you. Come on, love. Let’s get you back inside. You can talk to Miad in the morning when he’s clearheaded.”

  She conceded and started to limp beside him back to the bar entrance. But, Miad wouldn’t be so easily deterred. He snatched at Zoya with his uninjured hand, grabbing her hard by the shoulder and wrenching her from Micah’s handhold. At that moment, The Hangman’s Crows exited the club in search of Micah. From their vantage point, to Pinwheel, Chop, and Dante, it looked like trouble and a good time. Miad had regained the knife and was holding it threateningly at Zoya’s throat. Her face was a mask of shocked confusion.

  “Miad, what are you doing?” she hissed.

  “Looka here!” Dante shouted with a rebel yell. “Looks like we got us a fight, boys!”

  Quinn and Dante, the biggest of the crew, closed the distance from the door to Micah, coming up to flank their leader as reinforcement. “What’s the problem, Blade? I’m in a problem solving mood.” Q popped his knuckles and flexed his rippling mahogany muscles in a cutoff shirt. He towered over everyone except Dante, and the two of them combined was like staring down a semi and a monster truck.

  Pinwheel, sexy in red tights and a black t-shirt, strutted forward, a small gun in her hand. She smiled with sultry red lips and added, “ C’est dans mes cordes . A nice tumble in the dust is right up my alley tonight. Is this cacaboudin fucking with you, baby?”

  Miad took a step back. “If you love her, bishour , American idiot, tell your friends to stay out of this. Zoya’s coming with me.”

  The knife nicked Zoya’s throat, and Micah shot forward, but Zoya screamed at him to get back. “Alright, alright, Miad! I’m coming with you! Enough of this!”

  Micah gestured for the motorcycle club to stay back. “This isn’t over between us, Miad,” he promised.

  Miad wrestled Zoya to his car, parked near the front of the lot. He pointed to the driver’s side and made her climb in. He slumped into the passenger seat. Micah was grateful for that. At least Miad wasn’t at the wheel.

  He stood behind, helplessly watching the woman he cared about get carted off like property. He could understand her religion and respect her values, but he couldn’t understand that. Micah swore violently, wanting to hit something. He spun away from the scene and marched to his bike after the car drove away. Quinn and the rest of the crew followed.

  “What’s going on, Micah?” Dante called after him.

  Chop ran up beside him, enthusiastic to be a part of something with a little hint of danger. “You gonna follow them?” the biracial youth asked. “We got your back, man. That mothafucka is toast!” Micah shook his head.

  “I’m gonna go blow off some steam,” Same said. Pinwheel volunteered to ride with him, but he declined. “I need to be alone. You guys hang out without me tonight.”

  Quinn parked his booted foot on the rear wheel of the bike and stared at Micah. “Don’t do anything crazy, man,” Quinn warned. “We talked about this. I thought you were letting her go.”

  Micah threw a leg over the seat and settled on his Victory Cross Roads. “I tried, Q, but I can’t lie to myself or to you. This shit is personal, separate from the motorcycle club and anything else in my life. Zoya is my business. Man to man, if it doesn’t have anything to with The Hangman’s Crows from now on, stay out of it.” Quinn pulled back, stung. Then, Micah continued, “And, that goes for all of you. I don’t expect you to come fight this fight for me. I wouldn’t put you in harm’s way like that. I can’t shake her. I care about her. So, don’t ask me to choose between the gang and my girl. I’m with you guys til the end, no doubt about it. But, I will have her.”

  Q held up his hands and smiled tightly. “It’s your call…I’m going back inside before last call. You guys with me?”

  The Hangman’s Crows trudged back into the biker bar like the dejected end of a messy breakup, and Micah felt like shit, but what he had said was something that had to be said.

  He ripped out of the parking lot, sending up a spray of gravel into the night. He nosed his bike in the direction of the desert. It was the only place he could be alone with his thoughts. Micah still had hope. Zoya hadn’t given him any indication she was backing down from renewing their relationship. However, the fact Miad was aware they were together might throw a monkey-wrench into the plan.

  How could loving someone cause so much pain? He gripped the handlebars, feeling conflicted. He was also letting down his crew. It wasn’t like him to put anything, aside from his career, in a place of priority over his friends. He knew he had plugged a hole in Quinn with his request that his friend steer clear of his relationship, but he couldn’t see any other way of keeping them from getting rolled up in the conflict.

  He tore down the road and disappeared in a cloud of dust. Micah was aware Zoya wasn’t exaggerating the hardship they would face to be together. If he had any control of the situation, the gang would have to stay out of it. Boundaries had to be put in place for everyone’s sake.

  CHAPTER 13 There was a storm brewing in Zoya at odds with her normally temperate state. She gripped the steering wheel, determined not to burst into tears. Tears were the helpless last resort of those who had given up, and she hadn’t given up. She had left the biker bar with Miad by force, but she was fed up with his dominance, especially in light of his submission to alcohol.

  He groaned, as a car sped past on the other side of the road, headlights illuminating the car and sending shards of pain through his skull. He clutched at his temples and fought the urge to vomit. “Slow down,” he muttered, slurring his speech.

  Zoya decelerated a fraction, eyes on the rearview mirror for cops once she realized she was driving over the speed limit. It was her racing thoughts she was trying to outrun. She could see herself in a future of her parents’ and her brother’s choosing. She would marry some boring clod of a man and eventually learn to appreciate him, but she’d never love him. Her love was devoted to a man they wer
e intent on her not having, her parents unwittingly, and her brother through force.

  They were well-intentioned. For her parents, who had grown up in a world where a woman’s carefully cultivated reputation could mean the difference between life and death, old habits die hard. Zoya was expected to dress, speak, and carry herself a certain way to be conservative and marriageable. In their culture, marriage ensured a stable, productive future with a man who would devote himself to her safety and prosperity. She understood Islamic tradition required her to marry another Muslim, but she couldn’t imagine Allah had created this beautiful universe with so many diversities simply to keep people at odds.

  There was nothing morally wrong about love, and they were all created as one by One. It was ritual and tradition that kept them apart, not divine will.

  Zoya stared ahead at the road, driving on autopilot to her parents’ house where Miad resided as a result of being evicted from his townhome. She would have to sneak him inside without her parents knowing. How the blazes was she supposed to do that?

  Zoya sighed and took the exit before the one that would take her to the family residence. She turned to Miad to gauge his coherence. His eyes were closed, but he wasn’t sleep or passed out. “We need to talk,” she replied. His thick black lashes fluttered open, and he stared at her with a sneer.