BIKER DADDY_The Chain Gang MC

by Claire St. Rose

  But, Javid wanted a wife to keep his dirty secret from his family, and he didn’t really need the money; Javid was merely pressuring Miad to pay him back out of spite for being rejected. Zoya had seemed the perfect solution to both of their problems…until that damnable bishour biker had come along. Miad punched his fist into his open palm, swearing vehemently.

  “Can I get you anything else, sir?” asked the server.

  Looking up, Miad patted his pockets, feeling Javid’s money, and mumbled, “Stoli. A bottle.”

  After that, his memory of the night blurred. He had gotten so shit-faced in the restaurant that the establishment had called the authorities. Miad had awakened in a holding cell at the local precinct. Irritated by the frivolous charge of public drunkenness, he had shoved an officer and gotten another charge: Assault. Miad had sat in jail through Monday and Tuesday, and they’d denied him his one phone call. He couldn’t even get in touch with Musa to beg his father to come bail him out.

  Thus, when the police officer ambled to the locked gate and unlocked it, calling his name, Miad thought it was some type of mistake. “Lucky day, Rao. Some guy just bought your sorry ass a ticket home.”

  Trudging behind the portly man in the blue uniform, Miad made his way through the several locked doors that had stood between him and his freedom and burst out into the lobby of the county jail. He was handed a plastic bag full of his belongings and ushered out the doors to the foyer where his brown eyes locked with Micah’s. “You!” Miad spat. Embarrassment sent color to Miad’s cheeks. The fact that he would have to be seen wearing an orange jumpsuit by the man who had seduced his younger sister was a shame. Miad growled and dropped his head, fuming.

  “You’re welcome,” said Micah Whitfield. The biker turned away from Miad and headed out of the precinct, feeling like he’d done his good deed for the month—hell, the year.

  “Don’t think you’re doing me any favors. I would’ve gotten out on my own,” Miad spat ungratefully, as he pushed past the man who had just gotten him out of jail.

  Micah chuckled mirthlessly. “Well, I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for Zoya and your parents. She told me your father’s already paid an arm and a leg to put you through rehab once before. Mr. Rao doesn’t deserve to have to keep getting you out of mishaps.” Micah ambled out into the night behind his girlfriend’s alcoholic elder brother. Miad spun around at his comment and jabbed a finger at Micah’s chest.

  “You don’t know the first thing about my family, so don’t act like you did this for Musa or Taba. They’d sooner spit in your face than take hand-outs from you, swine! You want to do us a favor? Why don’t you stay the fuck out of my sister’s life? You! You are the reason I’m stuck in this hole and can’t climb out!” Miad stepped threateningly towards Micah, who pointedly glanced back at the precinct behind him.

  Micah sighed and bit back an expletive, taking a step back with his hands up. He didn’t want a fight. It was late, and he had to go to work in the morning. “Look, I care about Zoya—whether you like that or not. You’re probably not going to take my suggestion, but if you care about her too, as much as you claim, then get help for yourself, brother.”

  Miad scoffed. “You’re no brother to me.”

  “Cool. Get home safe.” After everything Miad had done to keep Micah and Zoya apart, Micah knew he should’ve let the bastard rot behind bars and saved himself some trouble, but when Zoya had called him to tell him she needed his help, Micah hadn’t hesitated to post Miad’s bail. Now Micah strolled to his bike and picked up his helmet, giving up on expecting Miad to play the gentleman. He watched Miad arrogantly march to the edge of the sidewalk to hail a cab. “Just try to stay out of trouble, Miad,” he called after him.

  Miad flipped him off and flagged down a ride home. Micah stared after him and dug his cellphone out of the front pocket of his shirt. “Yeah…I got him out. He just took off. Hopefully he’s headed your way.”

  ***

  Zoya sat at the kitchen table, staring at the cellphone after hanging up with Micah. She was flooded with contradictory emotions—relief that he had somehow managed to get Miad out of jail, anger that he’d had to do it, embarrassment at the situation, and love for the man who would do anything for her. Most of all, she felt love, and she was finding it harder and harder to understand why it was that she wasn’t supposed to be with him.

  Her eyebrows lifted as she sighed and gave up pondering the questions that had been plaguing her from the moment she realized she was falling for Micah Whitfield. Earlier in the night she had brought Miad’s drinking problem to her mother’s attention, and Maman had turned on her, accusing Zoya of frequenting the wrong sorts of establishments if she was running into Miad drunk. Taba made it clear she thought Zoya was the one up to no good. All Zoya had been trying to do was get help for her brother. Yet, Taba had rebuked her and forbade her from telling Musa.

  Now, she wondered if she should brave her mother’s wrath and go back to the bedroom to tell the resting matron of the household that Miad was on his way home. “Better not,” Zoya mumbled to herself. Chances were, Miad would stop at a bar or liquor store before coming home.

  She put her elbows on the table and covered her face with her hands. She wondered if, while she had been struggling with the unfairness of falling in love with a man she wasn’t allowed to have, she had truly neglected her brother. Callie, her roommate and best friend, had suggested Zoya get Miad into rehab again, but Miad had resisted. So, Zoya had used the knowledge of his drinking as leverage to keep Miad from telling her parents that she was seeing Micah.

  At the rate her brother was going, his alcoholism was becoming more than just an annoyance. He was in trouble, and Zoya knew it. “I should’ve worked harder to convince him to go,” she murmured to herself. She was more determined now to get her brother treated than she had been before, with or without her parents’ help or blessing. She owed it to her sibling to be there for him in his time of need.

  Zoya looked up at the sound of footsteps in the hall. Her eyes flew to the entrance to the kitchen where her mother steadied herself with a hand to the doorjamb, looking wan and pale. “Maman,” she whispered in concern. The last Zoya had seen her an hour prior, Taba had been visibly sickened by the knowledge Miad was drinking again and the suspicion her daughter was leading a secular lifestyle at graduate school. Zoya half-rose from the kitchen table, but Taba gestured for her to sit. “I thought you were sleeping.”

  Taba exhaled wearily as she sat down across from Zoya. She reached for her daughter’s hands with a sad smile. “I was wrong to berate you for telling me about Miad,” Taba murmured.

  Zoya looked down, apologies rare coming from her mother. “I understood you were worried and concerned, Maman.”

  Taba nodded, rubbing Zoya’s slender, soft hands with her own work-roughened fingers. She was a wife, after all, and a mother. She had callouses from sweeping, mopping, wiping tears, wringing her hands, pacing the floor, and praying for her children. Zoya thought she understood, but the young woman really didn’t, and she wouldn’t until she had children of her own.

  Smiling sadly, Taba replied, “I see things.” She held up two fingers. “I watch the both of you. Don’t think I don’t see. I’m your mother, Zoya. I know that Miad has not been himself…I was hoping he was being sincere, that he wasn’t drinking and gambling again, but I know the things you’ve told me are true. Your brother has always been…sensitive to temptations. You were always the strong one.”

  Zoya forced herself to keep eye contact, despite the fact that she was weak when it came to Micah, a weakness that came of love. It didn’t seem wrong to her to love him with her whole heart, no matter what anyone else believed, because he loved her too. She swallowed thickly at the thought. She drew her attention back to the conversation at hand, inhaling and pulling her hands away.

  “Look here, Maman,” Zoya murmured. She used her phone to pull up the website to the rehab center Callie had suggested. “We can get him back
in a program and help Miad get back on his feet. This place specializes in treating clients who have multiple addictions. They can take care of him for both—“

  Taba held up a hand and interrupted the hurried stream of information Zoya was trying to fire her way. She shook her head resolutely. “I will deal with this myself.”

  Zoya’s face dropped, and she exclaimed, “Maman, this isn’t something we can wish away!”

  “Shh! I said I will deal with this.” Taba cut her eyes at Zoya for raising her voice. Musa was asleep in the bedroom down the hall. She didn’t need him waking and hearing the conversation. “Now, you go home. Rest. Your brother will be home soon. I can feel it. A mother knows.”

  Zoya clamped her lips shut and refrained from telling her Miad was indeed on his way home, thanks to Micah. She sighed and stood to collect her purse and car keys. “Just promise me, Maman, that if whatever you have in mind doesn’t work, you’ll consider the rehab option. I can help you and Baba pay for it. I’ll get a job.”

  “You worry about your studies,” said Taba, following her into the living room. She stopped her at the door with a solemn look and a firm voice. “And, you stay away from anything or anyone that might lead you astray, Zoya. I was your age. I know what it’s like to be young and faced with so many opportunities to do the wrong thing, each of them looking more exciting and tempting than the last. Whatever you do, my child, don’t forget the upbringing which has been instilled within you, the Sharia and Allah’s will that you may have a long and prosperous life. If you follow the laws, you will be blessed.”

  “I know, Maman,” whispered Zoya. She looked away guiltily. “I’ll see you soon. Call me, no matter how late, whenever Miad returns.”

  Taba nodded and saw her out the door. After she heard Zoya’s car crank up and saw the headlights flash through the living room as her daughter backed out of the driveway, she settled her tired bones on the edge of an armchair to wait up for her wayward son. As she sat, she prayed. As she prayed, she cried. There had to be deliverance soon. Her heart couldn’t take much more heartbreak.

  CHAPTER 21 Zoya had driven directly to Micah’s place after leaving her mother’s, confident that Miad would soon be home. When Micah had come to the door, looking drowsy and sexy, she had walked into his arms and thanked him for being there for her with her touches and kisses because there weren’t words for all that she felt for him.

  She didn’t know how to tell him her love was rooted in more than appreciation, how to say how much she valued him just for being the man he was, and that she couldn’t envision a future without him because any tomorrow that didn’t include him in her life wasn’t one she wanted to see. She couldn’t explain how her love was more than a feeling and not just an act, more like a state of being. It was something she couldn’t turn on or off, something that had simply happened, something mystifying and overpowering. Whatever sacrifices were required, she would make them for him.

  His body was paradise. Zoya gasped, as Micah rolled her beneath him and rose above her. Her thighs dropped open in welcome while her lips parted in silky moans with each plunge of his hardness into her chasm. She cried out, as Micah suckled her dusky breasts while making love to her, and he hummed lustily, as her womanhood gripped his shaft, tightly stroking along his length. Her moisture poured over him and left him awash in potent pleasure that sent thrills through his core. Her nipple pebbled in his mouth. His heavy erection grew harder, as well. There was no end to the wonder when it came to sleeping with her. Micah had goose bumps along his upper back and shoulders at the exquisite ecstasy of her embrace.

  She writhed and rocked forward and back, taking all of him and begging for more. Her thighs clamped around his hips. Her nails raked down his back. She bit at his earlobe and sucked at his neck, gasping and moaning at the masterful way he thrust up and into her. Her body quivered. “I love you,” she cried out.

  “I love you, too.” His lips flew to hers, as he poured his words like sweet honey into her gasping mouth. He sucked at her bottom lip, lacing his tongue around hers. Her fingers tangled in his hair, and the kiss deepened. In and out, his erection speared, taking her up and up on tides of pure bliss. The sweat that beaded along her skin was evidence of the fire between them. There was no dousing the flames. She loved him.

  That love was more powerful than the will to blindly obey her brother’s orders. It was strong enough to withstand her parent’s ire, should they ever find out she was consorting with someone who wouldn’t meet their approval. As Micah’s mouth flowed from hers to her shoulder, he kissed a fiery trail back down to her breasts, and she cried out again. It didn’t matter that they weren’t supposed to be together. They were meant for each other.

  Her body reveled in the feel of him, and his erection caressed her in places only he could touch. As she gripped his shoulders, she felt her legs begin to shake. The ebb and flow of the dance between them sent rhythmic shockwaves coursing along her spine, and her back arched, head lolling back. He kissed up from her breasts to the hollow of her throat, and she groaned. She kneaded his firm, taut buttocks, urging him deeper, harder.

  “Yes!” she exclaimed, shaking. Her pelvis thrust forward, as waves of pleasure rippled through her. Still, he continued to plunge into her lithe body at the frantic pace she had set. Zoya experienced a climax that left her breathless, and he carried on until he took her to yet another.

  It was the wee hours of the morning before the lovers collapsed against each other, finally spent. Zoya closed her exhausted eyes and cuddled up against Micah. “Can I keep you?” she whispered whimsically.

  He chuckled and kissed her forehead, shutting his eyes. He was exhausted and wanted to enjoy the rare pleasure of sleeping next to her. “At this point, baby, I doubt you could get rid of me.”

  ***

  “Last night you told me you loved me for the first time,” she replied. Zoya sat out on the patio that extended from the back door of Micah’s estate, letting the morning sun wake her fully. Micah was preparing breakfast on the grill, and the savory smell of grilling meat wafted over to her. He had taken the day off after their busy night, and they had slept in late. She had awakened next to the man who made her the happiest woman in the world. She threw her head back with a smile. The sky was blue. Her heart was happy.

  He chuckled and brought over a plate, depositing the grilled kabobs in front of Zoya. He poured up a mimosa and handed it to her. “Damn, was it the first time? How remiss of me. I should’ve told you every day from the day I met you,” he said with a flirtatious grin. “D’ah, well, there’s always the rest of my life to get it right.” He stepped away from the table briefly, Zoya giggling behind him. “Speaking of which…” Her laughter abruptly stopped when he came back with a velvet jewel case and set it next to her plate.

  Micah smiled in pleasure at the look of shock on her face. She hadn’t been expecting it. Hell, he hadn’t even planned for it to go the way it was going, but after everything they had been through together, it just felt right. He got down on his knee on the sun dappled deck and gazed up at her beautiful face, hair free of her hijab and chestnut tresses floating on the summer breeze. Her hazel eyes glistened. “I want you to marry me,” he murmured sincerely.

  The silence that descended was thicker than the air at the height of the heat of summer, but Micah braved it anyway, hoping against hope she didn’t come up with some excuse to say no. Even if she did, though, he didn’t care. He’d find a way to convince her to be his.

  He stared into her mesmerizing eyes and poured out his heart to her in a way he had never done for any other woman. “The day I met you,” he stated, “you were an exotic book I thought I could be content with returning to the shelf when I was done reading, but I fell in love with your story. Now I quote you in my dreams, trying to read between your lines for the page break where your story and my story can come together because you’re the prose of my redemption. Before you, I was just a man…with you, I’m a man in love. You make me more than I
’ve ever been. Without you, I’m a fraction of myself.”

  “That’s the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me.” She accepted the case, tentatively opening it with baited breath. Her eyes widened at the chocolate and canary diamonds in the pink gold engagement ring. “Oh! This is too much,” she whispered in awe. She took out the ring, but he tugged it away from her with a shake of his head.

  “No, I’ll put it on you. That’s my job.” He took her slender fingers in his and slipped on the ring, admiring the colors against her honeyed skin. Nodding with satisfaction, Micah lovingly looked up again at her. “The short answer is ‘Yes.’”

  “You know we can’t,” she whispered. “Not yet.”

  His heart leapt at the last words, not yet. Rising to his feet, Micah sat down in the chair next to her. “Oh, I know, not yet. There’s your master’s to acquire. I mean, I wouldn’t dare encroach on you getting your degree,” he teased.