by Jackson Kane
Remy saw the worried look on my face or maybe it was the way I tried to push myself backwards through the wall I was up against. Remy quietly scanned the faces of everyone who waited on his answer, as his expression was completely unreadable. He could have an amazing plan, or… none at all.
I didn’t know him well enough to know which.
“Fine, little brother. Force my hand.” Top put two fingers in his mouth and whistled.
The music cut out, and everyone quieted to hear what the big man had to say.
“Brothers, we got ourselves a situation here,” Top announced. “This girl was at the gas station when Bren was killed. In fact, her boyfriend is the one who killed Bren.”
A wave of growing anger rolled off the crowd. It didn’t take much to agitate these bikers and even less for them to become fully enraged.
“Not only that, but she saw one of our members, Remy, pull the trigger on the fucker. For whatever reason, he hasn’t done what needs doin’ yet. No more near misses. No more fucking around. We’re resolving this issue right fucking here, right fucking now! We got the national president with us, so I say we put it to a vote. What do you think, Deadeye?”
The stoic, one-eyed man crossed his arms, thinking on it for a moment then dipped his head in a slight nod.
“All in favor of putting a bullet in this pretty, little piece-of-incriminating-evidence say aye!”
When Top finished, the overwhelming Ayes that roared through the crowd rattled the windows.
I was about to be lynched.
It was staggering how many angry men there were here and how quick they were to decide if I lived or died. That kind of hatred was so hard for me to understand. These men were willing to kill me despite half of them never even knowing I existed before Top decided to vote on my death.
I was an introverted girl from New Hampshire. Sure, I had my flaws, and I made a few mistakes in my life, especially the one with my teacher that landed me here. But did really deserve to die? I was an eyewitness to a murder.
I closed my eyes, awaiting judgment. The naïve part of me died then and there. Witnesses never survived.
“All opposed?” Top bellowed confidently that no one would, not that it mattered now. From the little bit I’d gathered, the MC world was almost a true democracy. One member, one vote. Majority rules and this time—majority wanted me dead.
“Nay!” Remy defiantly stood between me and fifty of the scariest men I’d ever seen. His lone, startlingly loud cry rang out like a hammer striking an anvil.
I’d never heard his voice that loud before.
In the face of so much anger, Remy’s nerve was that of fire-tempered steel. In that golden moment, he felt larger than life to me. Superman had come.
Everyone was as shocked as I was. It was a testament to how much respect he commanded that they didn’t just brush by him and tear me to shreds anyway. Yet ,Remy stood there and dared them to do just that.
No one moved.
“The nays have it. Leave her be,” Deadeye declared, a subtle smirk turning the side of his face.
Just like that, the crowd began breaking off into smaller groups, the music was turned back on, and things generally resumed.
Jesus, how important was this Deadeye guy if he could enforce that kind of ruling?
Top and Rio notably disapproved, but it honestly looked like that didn’t matter. Biker justice had been meted out. It was over.
My heart was beating so fast that I felt light-headed. My vision blurred, I had to sit down. I must have looked so pitiful when Remy finally turned to check on me.
Fuck, I felt like I’d just walked through a hurricane.
There was even the slightest flash of hesitance in Remy’s eyes when Deadeye called him away. It was obvious he didn’t want to go.
More than anything, I didn’t want Remy to leave either, but after that ruling, even I could tell that Deadeye wasn’t a man to be argued with.
The club voted, and I’d somehow made it through… so what was that concern on his face? It was over, right?
Then why did I have such a pit in my stomach?
Before he left, Remy gently touched my hand.
I felt like I’d been struck by lightning, and throughout the whole trial, it was trapped within me, agonizingly arcing between my extremities. His touch was so grounding. He stole away all my nervousness and electric anxiety. I could breathe again. I slumped into the booth and watched him walk off.
I couldn’t worry anymore I was too exhausted.
I did get a bit nervous when I’d lost him in the bar. I walked through the throng of people. The other bikers kept their distance from me not, wanting to mess with Deadeye’s ruling. But where did Top and Deadeye take him? I hoped Remy was all right, then I reminded myself that if he made it this far, he could probably take care of himself.
Unfortunately, I didn’t see Rio creep around behind me. I should’ve been more careful. I tried to scream Remy’s name, but Rio’s hand quickly clamped down over my mouth as he dragged me outside in plain view. Maybe it was because it was the national president’s son or because they still blamed me for Bren’s death, but so many of the Veins saw this happening and no one moved to stop it.
Once we were outside, Rio hauled me far enough out into the parking lot that the exterior flood lights couldn’t reach us, then he slapped me hard across the face. My lips and cheek burned from the hit, then they went numb, but I didn’t cry out. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. He threw me against the side of a truck and slapped me again.
“Taking out some of that impotent rage, Rio? Remy’s going to fucking kill you!” I spat at him.
“Fuck you, cunt! I’ll show you who’s impotent!”
I swatted away his hands as best I could, but he punched all the air from me with a blow to my stomach. I collapsed. My shoes and pants were ripped off while I wheezed in agony. I kicked feebly and scratched at his face, but my strength had drained away. Rio was on top of me, squeezing my tits through the thin work shirt.
“Remy...” I cried out weakly through a torrent of coughs. The air was only now starting to return to my lungs.
I struggled, but Rio was deceptively strong. With one hand, he had my wrists pinned and was fondling my tits with the other. He started slobbering down my chest and painfully chewed at my nipples. It felt like my chest was being scrubbed with worn-out sandpaper. His beard wasn’t uniformly stubbly like Remy’s. Instead, it was a scraggly mustache with sporadic tufts of hair in between bald flesh all along his chin.
“Remy!” I screamed, finally finding the air to do so.
“Shut the fuck up, bitch! The only thing he’s going to hear is the gunshot when I’m done.” Rio reached into his pants and pulled out his hairy, uncircumcised penis with a weird bent.
I couldn’t imagine a more horrible-looking dick. He had me bound so much that I could only squirm.
“Who the fuck does he think he is? Next year, I’m gonna be running the show.”
“Remy...” My voice was little more than a whisper.
“I fucking told you! He can’t h—”
“I’m here.”
I didn’t think it was real. There was no way Remy could’ve heard me.
Remy kicked Rio in the ribs with such force that the man was flung off the ground. Remy then knelt down beside me to see how badly I was hurt.
“I’m okay,” I croaked through a whimper, shivering at such an awful violation.
Wordlessly, Remy stood back up and walked over to Rio who was just finding his feet.
“My fucking ribs...” Rio started protesting, but was abruptly cut off when Remy grabbed the back of his head and smashed his face into the driver’s side window of a truck. The glass didn’t break with the first hit, but Rio’s nose did. Blood spurted across the clear pane like a Rorschach test.
I shuddered as wet, red flecks sprinkled my face and shoulder.
The second smash bashed in the window, and when Rio’s face was pulled back
out, it was a horror show.
I almost felt bad for him. Almost. Although there were no large chunks of glass in him, the skin on his face and neck was shredded from the impact. One eyelid had been torn off completely, revealing the semi-clear pulp of the mutilated orb beneath.
Nausea flooded me, forcing my eyes away.
Remy took a long, hard look back at me to bolster himself against whatever doubts he might’ve had about his own brutality. One of Rio’s jagged rings had caught me, blooding my face where he’d slapped me. I was doubled over, lying on the ground, near-naked, wet, filthy, and shivering. I was a wretched sight.
Visible rage bubbled within Remy at what had been done to me. My pain and anguish was the catalyst, transforming Remy into a hammer. Rio was the nail.
“So eager to replace your father.” Remy opened Rio’s other eye wide with his fingers. “Do you see me, Little Deadeye?”
Rio gargled blood and spat a wet wad of gore onto the ground. None of the words that escaped his wreckage of a face were intelligible.
“Rio?” Remy asked again.
“…Yes...” The biker started sobbing.
“Do you see me?” Remy repeated
“Yes! Fuck, yes! I see you!”
“I did this to you.” Remy growled softly in his ear. “Say it.”
“Yes... please... sorry...” Rio’s limp form was shaking. Obviously, he was saying anything he could to end the torture.
It wasn’t what Remy wanted to hear so he stuck his thumb into the mutilated, bloody hole where Rio’s mangled eye was a few moments before.
Rio screamed and thrashed at an unfathomably specific kind of pain.
I screamed, too, but clasped my hands over my mouth. I will never forget the sight of an eyeball popping like a pimple or that hideous sound! It was like someone crushed a cherry tomato.
It was frightening to see that Remy had the capacity for this much unflinching violence!
Normal people didn’t do these kinds of things to others!
Normal people didn’t willingly watch them happen either. Something dark shifted inside me... I needed to see this. I needed to see a man like Rio taken apart for what he’d done to me.
“Say! It!” Remy was vengeance given form.
“You did it! Youdidityoudidityoudidit!”
Remy released him and took a moment to clean his hands on Rio’s shirt. He then stood the man up and roughly shoved him toward the bar. I thought the battered biker was going to drop dead right there, but aside from the grotesque disfiguring, he only had some broken bones, a bunch of cuts, and, well, only one working eye now.
For better or worse, that monster would survive.
Remy dropped the tailgate of the truck down and helped me up onto it. By this time, I had managed to clothe myself to an acceptable level of modesty. I could see genuine compassion in his eyes before I had to look away. After all that, I wasn’t quite ready to meet his gaze fully. He then shimmied out of the grey button-up he wore so he could use it to wipe the blood from my face and shoulders. I was temporarily distracted by Remy’s skin which was a network of scars and tattoos – a roadmap of a tragic life lived violently.
“How come I am still alive?” With my finger, I traced the scabbed-over laceration I had carved across his chest earlier today which now had been mostly cleaned up. No butterflies, steri-strips, or even super glue had been warranted, not that he’d bothered doing so. I wasn’t sorry I had done it. We were different people back then, and at this breakneck speed, who knew what kind of person I’d be in another six hours.
“Turns out you’re stronger than you thought.” His words, still tinged with residual violence, were soothing. “You’re full of unforeseen surprises, aren’t you, Star?”
“No, I mean… Back inside. Your vote, it was so outnumbered.”
“Motorcycle clubs like ours...” I could see Remy wasn’t the kind of guy to explain his lifestyle to anyone, so now he struggled to find the right words. “In matters of life and death, if just one person says nay, then the nays have it. Most of the time. Top would’ve overturned it, however. We were fuckin’ lucky Deadeye showed up.”
“I don’t understand. Who is that? Isn’t Top in charge?”
“Top is our local chapter’s president, yeah, but Deadeye’s the national president. He’s one of the two guys who originally formed the Steel Veins back in the day and oversees all the chapters in the US. Deadeye’s word is law.” Remy was distinctly deliberate when he said this. This was obviously something that was taken very seriously.
“Did you know that he’d side with you?” I asked.
Remy looked away and didn’t say anything.
So he didn’t know. He had placed himself on the line, not having any idea how it would turn out. His reputation, his aspirations, and maybe even his life – he risked it all for me!
When his dark, endless eyes finally found me again, I broke down and started crying. It was the gravity of everything finally pulling me back to Earth, to my new reality. I mean, fuck!
How did I even begin to deal with all this?
Remy’s fingers slid across my scalp, and instantly I started to feel better. I actually was embarrassed at the display and wiped my eyes as quickly as possible. For some reason, I didn’t want him to see me as this spoiled, weak girl. But in all honesty, that was exactly what I was a little over twenty-four hours ago.
God, I felt terrible.
To my utter amazement, he enfolded me gently against his chest. I could feel his breath and heartbeat through his rigid abs. I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t think he was even capable of tenderness as the man still terrified the shit out of me, but somehow made me feel safe at the same time.
“Holy shit! Rio is Deadeye’s son!” The realization slapped me like a wet fish. “Did you just blind the national president’s son?!”
“The little fucker deserved it.” Remy chuckled sardonically.
“What’s going to happen to you?” I slid off the tailgate and stared up at him. His hair was a mess.
“Whatever it is, I’ll handle it,” he would only say.
I couldn’t help but worry, although seeing him smile immediately made me smile. If anyone could handle it, it was Remy.
“Listen, I see now – all the things you’ve done for me. I just want to say thank—”
Abruptly, he swept me up into a glorious kiss. I’ve been kissed before, but never like this. It was sharp, passionate and wonderful. His lips were dry and cracked, but I didn’t care. Our tongues teased and trespassed. He bit my lip lightly. I sighed heavily, my breath stolen. The beating I’d taken by Rio turned Remy’s every touch into crackled electricity across my face.
I could’ve stopped him, I think, but I didn’t mind the pain. It was thrilling.
My mouth was abandoned. The slow scratch of his rough chin scraped down my neck, occasionally broken by his firm lips or, even more sparsely, by unyielding teeth. I ran my fingers through his hair then scraped my nails down his neck and corded shoulders.
He grabbed me easily in one arm, lifting me off the ground to hang in the air, pressed tightly against him. He held me there and dragged his lower lip across my collarbone.
I wrapped my legs around his rigid frame. He could’ve let go completely, and I still wouldn’t have fallen. My foot clipped the handle of that big revolver Remy kept in the back of his waistband. The more I touched him, the less I could let go.
My head rolled back and before I knew it, he was on top of me on the bed of that weather-worn pickup truck, his hand cushioning back of my head, shielding me from the impact. The rear shocks groaned and gave way to the weight of our bodies before springing back up, yet we hardly noticed. Beer cans and what sounded like loose scrap metal rattled around us.
I tore my shirt off – we were far beyond decency. I could see the compassion drain from his eyes while being replaced with something more primal – that familiar spark of danger. My lower back snapped into a wicked arch as his tongue made smooth line
s from my navel to across my ribcage. He lost himself in the slightly salty taste and scent of my supple skin. I could feel his teeth more and more.
I liked it.
I was mesmerized by the scars. He had so many and not just on his chest but his back and sides, too. What did this to him? I couldn’t ponder long. Remy’s hand clamped down on the crotch of my pants, and in one, quick jerk, tore them down to my ankles. Fuck, this was really happening.
A swell of resolve burned through me. I was done being passive. I had to fill both hands full of his dark brown hair to have the strength I needed. I wrenched his head backwards despite my pussy screaming for his touch so much that I was actually trembling. I would have to wait just a little longer. The surprise etched across his face was worth every agonizing second. He wanted me. I could feel how badly he wanted it.
I was right there, but he couldn’t have it, not just yet.
Remy watched as I gingerly fingered my lower pink lips, playing lightly in practiced rhythm. I knew what I liked. I think the only reason he didn’t overcome my feeble defenses was because he studied me, my every flick, rub, and pinch carving indelibly into his memory.
Enough was enough! He tore his head free and dove for me. I scooted out of his way and flipped him onto his back. He let me do it, but he did so with a measure of surprise at how aggressive I could be.
Oh really? He didn’t need to say the words. An entertained chuckle and smile accompanied a soft glare that said, Okay, give me your best shot.
I had the feeling he was always the one doing the fucking.
I stepped out of my discarded pants and stood naked before him in the surprisingly quiet parking lot out in the middle of nowhere. The dance I’d done for him on the bar came to mind, and my hips started to move all by themselves. A nearly inaudible “Mmmm…” sound escaped him as I realized I’d wanted to dance for him privately since the second I crawled toward him across the bar top. This time, it was my cruelty that knew no bounds as I rubbed myself all over.
My hands pushed up his tight thighs to either side of the massive bulge of his crotch. My nimble fingers attacked the fly of his worn jeans. With every freed button, I feared his straining cock threatened to escape right through the denim material. His pants intact, I slid them to his knees with only a shadow of the force he’d used on me. His forgotten revolver flopped out comically with a loud clatter on the naked steel bed.
