Heaven Sent

by Avelyn Paige

  A smile comes to my face thinking about his reaction to this nickname.

  “His road name meant something entirely different to me, but he, of course, thought his road name came from what I witnessed on his wedding night. Sorry, Darcy, but that image has forever been burned in my mind. He definitely didn’t have the moves like the real Jagger, but it was sweet of you to make him feel like a rock star... I bet the bastard is still laughing about it now,” Raze says with a laugh while wiping away his own tears.

  “Losing Brent came far too soon. He told me once that its old men like us that live forever, I just wish he would have been right about that. He may be gone from life, but his spirit will forever reside with the men standing with us and the stories we pass on to the next generation of Heaven’s Rejects,” continues Raze as his eyes scan the crowd.

  “I know you’re looking down on us today, shaking your head and yelling at me to stop fucking crying and go get a beer. Well, Jagger, the beer I drink tonight and every night until my last will be for you. Put in a good word for me up there, brother, because when I get there, we’ve got some hell to raise. May the roads in Heaven ride smooth and the wind be at your back. I’ll see you again at Heaven’s gates; just make sure you tell the bastards to let me in.” Soft laughs murmur through the crowd as Raze lays his hand against the head of the casket; his head hangs as he mutters quietly to himself.

  Picking up the cut, he walks to Darcy and kneels before her. “On behalf of the brotherhood of the Heaven’s Rejects Motorcycle Club, we present you with Brent’s cut as a symbol of our brotherly love and commitment passing from him to you and the boys. This brotherhood will care for you from this day forward in honor of his commitment to his club.” Pressing a soft kiss on Darcy’s cheek, Raze slides Jagger’s cut into her hands. Fuck, that’s not how we handle a fallen brother’s cut after his death so I hope Raze realizes his actions are going to piss off some of the chapters. He’s never broken club rules and traditions for anyone before so it makes me suspicious of his motives behind the act. I’ve seen the bastard rip a cut out of a grieving widow’s hand and burn it like our club rules decree. He better have a damn good reason for doing this.

  “I promised Jagger that if anything ever happened to him, I would take care of you. From this moment on, you and the boys are my responsibility, Darcy. If you ever need anything, you call me above everyone else.”

  Darcy brings the cut to her face and sobs into the worn black leather. Stepping back from Jagger’s weeping widow, Raze instructs the crowd that the service has ended and dinner will follow at the clubhouse. The bike’s rumble to life as they depart, leaving only the club officers and his family behind. We each take turns hugging Darcy as we say our last goodbyes. I silently walk toward Jagger’s final resting place and place my hands over the head of the casket.

  “You may be lost to us, Jagger, but I promise you that you’ll never be forgotten. I’ll make those bastards pay, even if it kills me in the process,” I whisper to the sky.

  Raze helps Darcy from her seat and we step away to give her and the boys time alone to say goodbye. She walks away a few minutes later and settles into the waiting car. Morton brings me over the corners from his casket as Jagger’s family pulls away and returns to finish his work. Stowing the corners carefully in my saddlebags, I start my bike and ride back to the clubhouse with the other officers.

  Entering the club, I notice that the club mamas look almost normal today as they carry platters of food out the back door. They’ve stowed their tits and short skirts in exchange for simple black dresses and minimal make-up. I don’t understand why they think painting their faces like a clown is attractive but frankly, it’s not their faces I’m attracted to anyway. Maria, Hot Shot’s old lady, stayed behind to supervise the club mamas for Maj and make sure the food was ready by the time we got back from his graveside service. Maria has been more of a citizen wife for the club but has wanted to take part more in helping with the clubhouse with Darcy in mourning.

  Raze had a tent set up in the yard of the clubhouse to accommodate our brethren and their old ladies. Their chatter fills the tent while my brothers and I eat in silence surrounding Jagger’s mourning family. I can tell they aren’t ready to be around this many people in a social setting so I ask Irons, our newest prospect, to drive Darcy and the kids home after they finish eating. Now that the pomp and circumstance is over, they need time together to heal and figure out how life’s going to work without Jagger. Darcy is a tough bitch, but I know that she’ll be vulnerable while she mourns. Before the services started, I assigned Irons to watch Jagger’s house and make sure his family was safe.

  Over the next several hours, the other chapters begin to disperse and ride home to await orders on our plans. Every single chapter president pledged all the manpower they could spare to help us with the upcoming attack. They respect Raze’s decision to wait until the time is right to strike, so there’s no point in them hanging around.

  It’ll be nice to get the clubhouse back to normal with just us occupying it. Usually seeing the guys from upstate results in a rowdy as shit party with nefarious results and a multiple day hangover, but this time I’m just not in the right frame of mind for them to be here.

  Walking into the back door, Ruby and the girls are working to clean up the mess from lunch while some of the guys and I head into the main room. Ratchet plops down on the worn leather couch next to me and flips the television to ESPN. Raze joins us, parking in his favorite recliner, as we sit in silence, blankly staring off into space in the general direction of the TV.

  “I can’t fucking take the silence anymore. I’m getting the fuck out of here and heading to Red’s. I need a change of scenery, liquor and a one-night-stand piece of ass. Who’s with me?” says Voodoo, breaking the silence.

  “Shit, man, I’m in. I think we owe it to Jagger to celebrate his life instead of sitting in the dark, mourning like some bitch emo kid. Let me change into some normal fucking clothes and I’ll meet you outside.”

  Jumping up from the couch, I run up the stairs to my room and fling the door open. Tossing my cut onto the bed, I retrieve a pair of my worn, ripped jeans from the dresser with one of my Harley t-shirts. Unbuttoning my dress shirt, I toss it into the hamper by the door, which reminds me to tell one of the girls I need my shit washed. The basket is about to overflow when my dress pants land on the top of the pile. I pull the jeans up my muscular legs littered with scars. Seeing the jagged lines on my skin make think about my time overseas again, but I don’t want to deal with that shit right now. Pulling my shirt over my head and lacing up my boots, I grab my cut and keys on the way out the door.

  Most of the club is sitting on their bikes waiting for me by the time I get out the front door. A couple of the girls are sitting on the backs of the guys’ bikes so I guess this is going to be a bigger outing than I expected. Raze and Maj are the last to join us as I start the engine of my bike and feel it rumble to life between my legs.

  Following Raze, we pull out of the club’s parking lot and cruise toward town. We drive around back when we get to the bar and park our bikes in the employee parking lot. Kellen, the bouncer, waves us in, and we settle in our usual corner. Bobby brings over our normal round of beers and a whiskey neat for me without even needing to be prompted. Red’s may be the shittiest bar in town, but they treat the club right. We’ve taken care of some problems for Red over the years, and he indulges us when we come rolling in. The bar is pretty empty for a Friday night, but it’ll liven up the later it gets. Sucking down the whiskey, I lean back into the booth and watch the girls dancing to shitty pop music. I don’t know how anyone could listen to this bullshit that’s over the age of twelve, but the club girls seem to love this shit.

  Raze orders a round of Johnny Walker for us all and Bobby brings over the bottle with several shot glasses. Picking up the bottle, Raze pours the whiskey into each glass, doling them out to the five us of us. “It’s only right as a brotherhood we drink in Jagger’s honor
.” He raises his glass in the air as he speaks.

  “Jagger, this shot is for you. Ride free forever, brother.” Clinking our glasses together, we drink to our fallen brother, letting the whiskey burn down our throats. I love the man, but he had shit taste in whiskey.

  It doesn’t take long for Maj to get shitfaced. She’s always been a sloppy drunk, which leaves me wondering why Raze lets her get this far gone every time we go out as a club. She starts grinding against Trixi, whose eyes lock on to me as she sways her hips against Maj’s ass. Jesus, that’s not even remotely attractive, but these two drunken women think it’s the sexiest thing on the planet. Leaning over to Raze and interrupting his quiet conversation with Ratchet, I nod toward the dance floor.

  “Raze, you might want to control your woman before she starts to strip. “

  “Fuck me!” he yells as he slides out of the booth. “What the fuck are you doing, baby?” he yells over the music, stalking toward her on the dance floor.

  “No, I don’t want to be the meat between you and Trixi’s buns. Fuck, woman, how much did you drink?” Her replies go unheard, but she continues to dance with Trixi before tumbling to the floor in a failed attempt to grind on Trixi’s leg. I know Raze likes watching that shit, but it repulses me.

  An old lady is supposed to be obedient and loyal but once Maj gets a round or two of drinks in her, she acts like a whore. Her drunken actions with the club girls make me secretly wonder if Maj has a taste for women and men, but I’ll never ask because I like my head just where it is: attached to me. Scooping her up from the floor, Raze carries her out the door and no doubt straight into a fuck session before bed. As they exit, that’s when I see her.

  A tall blonde walks into the room in the shortest dress I’ve ever seen on a woman that tall. She sure as fuck isn’t leaving much to the imagination in that getup. But it’s not her that draws my attention; it’s the olive-skinned beauty standing next to her. She contrasts in looks against her friend. While the blonde looks like a typical California bar slut, the raven beauty next to her is far from the normal view in a place like this. Her dress is wrapped tightly around her like a second skin. She’s the perfect mix of soft curves and lean muscle. Her exotic look is enchanting and my dick starts to harden with every second I watch her. I can tell by her body language she isn’t happy about being here and doesn’t like what she’s wearing as she continuously fidgets with her dress. The thought of that scrap of fabric crumpled on my bedroom floor sends a jolt to my aching cock. Her hair sends an erotic thought cascading through my mind. The braid draped over her shoulder would be the perfect rope to hold onto as I pound into her ass. The thought of her in that vulnerable and submissive position sends erotic shivers rolling down my body. I don’t think I’ve ever been this fucking hard just imagining fucking a complete stranger. Since my cock seems to approve of her, my night just may be looking up after all. The look on Ratchet’s face shows me that he must have noticed me staring. He has this sly, knowing smirk, but I can’t pull my eyes away from my mystery for more than a few seconds. Annoyed with my lack of attention, he throws a wadded up bar napkin at my face.

  “Hey, fuck face, did you hear what I just said?” he yells across the table.

  “Nope, didn’t hear a word. Been a little busy scoping out the new pussy that just walked in.”

  “I’ve never seen the shorter one in here before, but, I think the other girl’s one of the night waitresses. I’m not one hundred percent certain, though. “You want the blonde or the brunette?” he asks, knowing full well which one I want.

  “The brunette, shithead. You know blondes aren’t my thing.”

  “Yeah, I know,” he remarks with a shrug. “It’s good to switch things up a bit. I bet my ass that blondie over there is a wildcat in the sack.”

  Rolling my eyes at him, we both sit back and watch our prey settle into a table before the blonde calls Red over. The bastard leans a little too close to my girl and anger flares inside of me. What the fuck? My girl? Get a grip, Hero. You haven’t even talked to the woman, let alone claimed her. Red smacks her ass before walking away, which nearly sends me out of the booth to knock him on his ass for touching her. What the hell is happening to me? A perfect stranger shouldn’t have this kind of pull over me. It must be the shitty whiskey killing off my sensible brain cells. While the blonde screams in excitement, I wonder what the fuck that was all about. Waving Bobby down, I order a round of drinks for them both. My eyes linger on the pair as they consume more drinks as the evening goes on. Blondie finally drags her out on the dance floor and it’s time for Ratchet and me to make our move.

  Ratchet slides behind the blonde and immediately presses against her ass. She must like it because she leans back into him, pulling his hands to her hips to drive the motion. Ratchet’s face leans into the side of her neck, letting his hands roam south when she starts to kiss him. My prey starts to leave the dance floor before I pull her back against me, startling her at first.

  She soon relaxes against me as she moves with the music. She’s a few inches shorter than me, even with the fuck-me heels on her feet, but I dip down far enough that her ass stays planted against my rock hard dick. She rolls her hips seductively against me; my dick will explode in my pants like a teenage boy if she keeps this up.

  A waitress walks up with a shot in her hands and hands it to my beautiful dance partner. She tips back the shot and tosses the empty glass back to the waitress when I see Voodoo nod across the way. That fucker is sending her drinks when I’m trying to lock her down to warm my bed tonight. Hope he remembers payback is a bitch.

  Pulling her back to me, I can’t control my hands anymore as they trace the curves of her beautiful body. She’s nowhere near the sickly supermodel-thin the club girls are with fake tits. I like my women with meat on their bones and what their mommas gave them. Fake tits do the job when I need them, but I prefer natural. I’m pretty sure hers are real, judging by the way they jiggle with each of her motions. They would look perfect pressed around my dick as I fucked them or with my cum dripping off of them. I need to get this girl home before I drag her off to the back of the bar and fuck her against the alley wall.

  Just as I decide to pull the trigger, her friend rips her away from me. I start to go after her but her friend pukes all over herself and the dance floor, sending them in the direction of the bathroom. Fuck it. I can wait until she gets back. Ratchet shrugs his shoulders and we head back to the table. Red’s leaning against our table talking to Voodoo as we approach. He’s a perverted, fat fucker, but he’s useful when we need a night out on the town. Ratchet slaps Red on the back before sliding into the booth.

  “Red, who are the two women you were talking to earlier?” I ask. I need to get as much information on my target for the night before sealing the deal. “She belong to someone?” Red turns to me with a confused look on his face.

  “Are you talking about the blonde?”

  “Fuck no, the brunette with her. Need to know if I’m stepping on any toes by dragging her off later.”

  Red laughs at me. “She’s my new waitress. I think her name’s Dawn or Debbie, something like that. I was too busy checking out her rack to catch her name. She’s a feisty one, Hero. That spirit is going to make me a ton of money before I break it.” The thought of him touching her flares rage in me again.

  Gripping him by the collar of his shirt, I get into his face. “She’s fucking off limits until I’m done with her, Red. If anyone is going to break her, it’s gonna be me. You got it?”

  Pulling away from me, Red straightens his shirt. “Sure, Hero. Whatever you say, man. But you should probably know that the blonde with her is Ricky’s girl. I doubt you want someone that lives with Twisted Tribe's property. Rumor has it he uses Ricca to deal cocaine for the club.”

  Ratchet straightens up in his seat hearing the club’s name. He starts out of the booth, and I know he’s going after the girl to use as bait for our revenge. Grabbing him by his arm, I stop him from going any farther
. “Ratchet, we can’t do that shit in here, and we sure as shit aren’t going to use a woman as bait. Get your fucking head on straight, man. This isn’t the way our club operates.” He jerks away from me and charges out the door.

  “I guess playtime is over, gentlemen,” Red says, watching Ratchet leave.

  “I think you’re right, Red. Doubt you want innocent blood spilled on your floor tonight. By the way, I’ll look into what you mentioned earlier,” Voodoo says as he leads the rest of the group away from the booth. Following along behind them, I search the crowd to see if she emerges. I can’t believe she’s likely tied up in the Twisted Tribe bullshit. I guess I dodged a bullet by not acting on my earlier ideas, but tell that to my aching dick. He wants the taste of the forbidden just as badly as I do, but even I know not to fuck with another club’s women. It’s not worth starting a war over a bit of new pussy, even if it’s beautifully wrapped. Just wish I’d have known that before I set my sights on her because my dick is pissed it’s not going to sink deep into her pussy later. Flipping my phone on, I dial the club and let Ruby know to be in my room in twenty minutes. I guess she’ll have to be my release tonight, but even as I fuck her, she won’t be who I am thinking about. Why do I get the feeling my life is about to spiral even more out of control knowing she’s around Upland? Fuck, I’m screwed.

  “Order up, Dani,” yells Rick, the bar’s head cook. Scuttling back to the dirty kitchen prep area, I grab the plate of loaded cheese fries and head out to my table to deliver them. It’s been three weeks since I started working at Red’s, and I’m finally getting in the groove of working at a dive bar. The hardest part of this job is avoiding Red and the inappropriate sexual remarks of the sleaze ball regular customers. At first I thought telling the grabby patrons I batted for the other team would deter them, but I soon discovered that made them even more interested. I don’t know how many times they asked if they could watch. Fucking creepers.