by Sandy Kline
“Alexandra?” Blue eyes asks.
“How’d you kno-”
“She’s called your cell phone a dozen times. She’s fine and on her way here. She’ll probably be here in fifteen or twenty minutes. She made it out okay with just a few bumps and bruises by the sound of it.”
Now I can relax. The second we got separated I was afraid I’d never see her again.
“What’s your name?” I ask the blue eyed biker.
“Blade.”
“I mean your real name.”
“Sorry. It’s Sean. No one’s called me anything but Blade for so long I almost forget my real name.”
“That’s a nice name. Why does everyone call you Blade?”
For an answer he turns to one of his buddies, who nods and walks over to the far wall, about twenty feet from us. The biker extends his arm, opens his hand out and spreads his fingers. I’m just about to ask what he’s doing that for when suddenly Sean is a blur in motion. Faster than I can react, he’s snatched the knife on his belt and hurled it towards his buddy standing at the wall. I swallow a screech as the blade whistles through the air and buries itself to the hilt right between his brother’s index finger and middle finger. Abruptly I realize my hands are half covering my eyes. I drop them to my side as the unscathed biker pulls Blades knife from the wall, walks back over to us, and hands Sean his knife back.
“I can’t believe you risked seriously injuring your friend there just to make a point about your nickname!” I am actually pissed at him. What an ego he’s got!
“You know you could have just told me why everyone calls you blade.” I bark. “You could have just as easily cut off a finger or hit an artery in his wrist.”
Suddenly his warm blue eyes take on a steely, frightening look as he nods to his buddy. Before I can protest the man takes my hand and flattens it out on the pool table so that my fingers are spread out. I start to make a fist and jerk my hand back when something in Blade’s eyes makes me rethink that. Then to my absolute horror, Sean closes his eyes, whips out his knife and stabs downward toward my outstretched hand and fingers. The steely silver blade is a blur as he stabs into the table between each of my fingers without so much as a knick to my flesh. It’s only after he’s repeated it twice does he stop and open his eyes again. He coolly sheathes his knife and calls for a drink.
“Prospect!” He shouts. “Three beers and a glass.”
I examine my fingers carefully looking for a sign that his blind aim wasn’t as perfect as it seemed at the time. To my continuing amazement there’s not a single nick, cut, or scratch. I’m beginning to understand how he managed to beat an opponent in the ring who was clearly more experienced, had forty pounds more muscle and three inches of additional reach. It basically was a case of David (Blade) and Goliath (Bone Crusher).
From the end of the bar another biker materializes and retrieves three frosty Coronas and a tall glass from the ice box. The man walks over, sets two bottles on the table, then pours the third bottle into a glass and sets that one in front of me. I don’t think I have ever been in such a need for a drink as I am now. I’m also supremely pissed! Has this guy no regard for human life? Or at least human fingers?
I hold my hand up in front of him. “You may not use yours,” I say. “But I use mine.”
“And your point would be?” He asks with an infuriating smirk.
“My point is that you risked taking off my fingers.”
He turns to his buddy that he’d thrown the knife towards. “What do you think Splinter, she in need of another demonstration?”
The brother named Splinter smiles and nods his head.
“Wait, no! I don’t need another demonstration.” I snap. “I already know you guys are both crazy and reckless! Keep your demonstrations to yourself.”
“What about another beer, would you-”
“Now you’re talking. Thank you!”
“Prospect!” Blade shouts. “You heard the lady. She’d like another Corona.”
Like magic another frosty beer appears next to my half full glass. Then to my surprise the prospect produces a new frosty glass and pours the new beer into that glass before removing the warmer glass and beer. I like how these guys think.
“So where’d you learn to throw a knife like that?” I ask between sips of my frosty Corona.
When he’s not throwing a knife or beating someone to death he actually looks totally hot! While he’s talking to me or giving instructions to the other bikers in the room I try and steal quick looks at his mouth and face. He has definitely got the most kissable lips I have ever seen! His voice is smooth and when he speaks my name I get goose bumps up and down my spine. If his voice can do that much to me I can’t even begin to imagine what it would feel like to have his lips brushing up against my skin or his mouth on mine. I don’t think I have ever reacted like this before with a man who has yet to touch me.
And there it is again. His voice and my gooseflesh.
“You didn’t hear a word I said did you?”
“You were raised by homicidal monkeys in the Amazon Jungle?”
“That’s pretty close.” He replies. “They were Orangutans actually. Monkeys have very poor aim.”
I finally ask the burning question that’s been plaguing me ever since I saw them riding back into Whispering Pines. “Why are you guys back in town?”
“What do you mean?” He asks.
“I saw you ride through when I was maybe nine or ten years old and I saw…well I guess it couldn’t have been you that I saw.”
“Yeah, that would have been my dad.”
“So why are you back?”
“Unfinished business.” He replies.
“With the Devils Advocates and the Sleazebags?”
He nods and takes a long pull from his beer. “That’s right.”
“So what’d they ever do to you that warrants revenge twenty years later?”
Immediately his face darkens and right away I know I’ve struck a raw nerve.
“You don’t have to answer that.” I say immediately.
“It was my Uncle that was murdered.” He replies. “And that was just the tip of a very large iceberg. When we retaliated we got nailed. What my father did not know is that we were finally infiltrated by two undercover cops. We treated them like brothers for three years. One was a city cop and the other FBI. They were patient and crossed their T’s and dotted their I’s and when they came down on us they crushed us like a bug under a giant boot. They had us as a criminal organization and everyone who could be proven a member did jail time. The minimum sentence was 30 months, but most received ten plus years and eleven got serious hard time; fifteen and up. My father got twenty-five years before possibility of parole. He eventually died of cancer in prison. At the time the criminal justice system had a program called compassionate release where inmates with long sentences who had a terminal illness were allowed to be out and die at home or in a halfway house if they didn’t have a home to go to. They wouldn’t let my father out. They kept trumping up bogus behavior problems in jail and the judge deemed him a flight risk even though he was wheelchair bound the last two years of his life. Not only did they take his life, they took every last shred of dignity he had left. My father died a broken, very bitter man.”
“Wow… I don’t know what to say…”
“Say you don’t like cops and we’ll get along just fine. Say you hate them and it’ll be love at first sight.”
“Well… I don’t know if I could go so far as to hate them, but there’s certainly no love lost between us.”
“I’ll take that.” He says. “They wiped our club from the face of the map. Those few that got out and could still ride left the state with the soul exception of two brothers who were in their early twenties when they were incarcerated. They began to rebuild our club from scratch and its taken years. I was thirteen when they took my father away. I joined when I turned 18 and I’ve been a Crusader for ten years now. We’re here to take back what�
�s ours. In my father’s day we were the dominant club. In our absence the Sleazebags and the Devil’s Advocates took over but we’re back to get rid of their filth. The cops that broke us are all retired or gone. There are a few sons or nephews of the original cops here and they have all sworn to take us down again but we’re smarter than we were back then and they won’t take us so easily again. We’ve spent years infiltrating Whispering Pines, buying up property under a legitimate business.”
“What business?”
“Ever hear of Martin Brothers?”
“No way! They own a ton of shit all over town!”
“My father’s name was Erin Martin and his best friend’s first name is Martin. We have three members that are licensed real estate brokers and they do all the purchasing for Martin Brothers. Death Crusaders are actually owned by Martin Brothers LLC. As a club we own numerous properties around town.”
“Wait, how can a legitimate business like Martin Brothers LLC own an outlaw biker club?”
“It’s just a matter of getting the right attorney to fill out and notarize the right papers. It’s not like we’re a publically traded company or anything like that.”
“Holy crap! You guys actually know what you’re doing.”
“Yes, we do. My father’s best friend, the other Aaron, Joel Aaron was the only member who escaped prosecution and does not have a criminal record.”
“How’d he manage that?”
“It’s a long and convoluted story. Ask me another time. So anyway before I became a member Aaron Brothers was formed and they started buying properties discretely throughout town. At first they just bought whatever they could get their hands on, but later they got smart and only bought income producing properties. Even twenty years ago our founders had this idea of taking the club straight and getting out of all our illegal ventures.”
“But that hasn’t happened.” I observe.
“No…not yet. People tend to always take the path of least resistance and for an outlaw motorcycle club that has always meant guns, drugs, fencing stolen property and our chop shop.”
“Oh come on. You guys are just going to end up behind bars like your founders did.”
“We’re playing it smarter this time around Jen.”
“How?” To me it sounds like more of the same stuff that got them locked away the first time.
“Well… for starters we have three deep cover members in the Whispering Pines police force. Two are even motorcycle cops. All three have been keeping their noses clean and rising up through the ranks. Who knows, one day the chief or even the CO or the police commissioner will be a member of the Death Crusaders.”
“Wow! That’s a lot to take in.” I reply. These dudes are not your average rag tag band of brothers. They are a business. They are smart, organized, and powerful. I’m impressed!
“You’d be shocked at who on the force is a member. You’d also be surprised at who are friends of the club. They’re almost as valuable as the undercover members.”
“How do you know they won’t infiltrate your club again like they did last time?”
“We were naïve then. Our founders were just back from the Vietnam War and young and naïve. They were war heroes, Medal of Honor recipients, Silver Star bearers. Who would even think of crossing us? But today we have a fool proof way of making sure no cop even tries to infiltrate us.”
“What is it?” I ask.
“I can’t tell you. All I can say is no cop would ever do what is required to do to become a Death Crusader.”
“You have to kill someone don’t you?” I had to ask.
“I can’t tell you Jen so don’t keep asking. You wouldn’t like what you heard so just forget I said anything.”
“No way, you can’t do that. It’s like someone coming up to you and going, I’ve got the most amazing news, it’s gonna blow your socks off. But I can’t tell you. You can’t do stuff like that Sean. Didn’t your mamma teach you anything?”
“Yeah, she said to stay away from girls like you.”
“That’s funny ‘cause my mom said to stay away from guys like you.”
“No she didn’t.” He replies.
“Yeah, you’re right.” I reply. “She said to stay away from cops.”
“Now that I can believe.”
For some strange reason I’m actually enjoying our conversation. Of course it doesn’t hurt that he’s oh-so-easy on the eyes. I’m about to pursue another line of questions when the door to the bar opens and in walks Alex. She rushes over to my side and immediately starts to check for injuries.
“I’m fine, I’m fine.” I protest. “I nearly got trampled to death but thanks to Blade here I’m okay.”
Blade offers his hand. “I’m Blade. Good to meet you Alex. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Really?”
“No…but it seemed the appropriate thing to say at the moment.” Blade replies with a smile.
“And Jen here has told me absolutely nothing about you.” She replies with a smirk.
“Is that true?” He asks me.
“That’s pretty much the truth.” I confess.
“I’m so disappointed.” Blade replies.
“I’m sure you are.” Alex says to him. “Now I’m going to take my girl home with me so say your goodbyes. I’m sure we won’t be meeting again.”
Every now and then Alex’s dislike for bikers comes out; especially when it’s the outlaw variety. As I get up to leave something else strikes me. Alex is going to become a cop and I just found out that 3 Death Crusaders are cops. When she gets out of the academy, which is very soon, she’ll be posted at the Whispering Pines Station #3. She could end up riding around with a bad cop. What would happen to her if she gets into a situation with the Crusaders and her partner is an undercover Crusader? I really wish Blade hadn’t confided that in me.
I follow Alex out of the Death Crusader’s compound and out to her car. As time passes I find I am getting sorer. It’s probably a good thing I had a couple drinks in there to soften the edges. Alex takes me to my house and sticks around for moral support as I get ready to crash. It’s not that late but I really feel the need for sleep. I know it’s going to be a rough morning though. I’m really going to feel almost getting trampled to death for the next couple days I’m sure. That’s how it goes with these kinds of injuries. When I’m finally ready to go to sleep Alex tucks me in like a child and lets herself out. As I hear her car take off sleep takes me.
I was right about the pain. For the next several days I do feel like I got run over by a freight train. I hurt from head to toe but I’m far too stubborn to go to the doctor to get checked out. In that regard I’m like a guy. I get paranoid when it comes to my health and if I’m gonna get cancer I really don’t want to know about it. By the time next Friday rolls around I’m starting to feel like my old self again. I’m sitting in my kitchen nursing a coffee when I hear a knock on my door. I assume it’s Alex and pop the door open without thinking.
“Ale…wait a second, you’re not Alex.”
Standing on my doorstep is a biker from the Death Crusaders. I have no idea why he’s here. He’s short, somewhat stocky and actually appears to be nervous to be on my doorstep talking to me.
“Sorry to disturb you ma’am. Blade has asked me to invite you to dinner tomorrow night at The House of Prime Rib. If you would meet him there at 8pm he would be honored.”
Wow, I have to say I have never been sent a personal invitation to dinner like this before. I’m not sure whether to be honored or insulted that he didn’t call or come by himself. Mister shorty seems to have read my mind.
“He would have called himself but he didn’t have your number and he didn’t want to just show up and make you feel pressured to accept the invitation.”
Wow…a thoughtful biker; how nice.
“You can tell your boss that I…yeah, I’ll be there.”
Then I grab a piece of paper from the hall table and write my number on it. I hand it to the stoc
ky biker.
“Why don’t you give him this and tell him next time to just call like a normal person.”
“I can’t say that to him ma’am, but I’ll give him your number.”
“Of course you can’t say that to him. Just give him the number. I trust he knows how to use a phone?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Well, you have a good day.”
“You do as well ma’am.”
He turns and leaves so I go back inside to my coffee. I have a date! I have a date with a hot biker. The weekend is looking up.
By the time Saturday afternoon arrives I am a nervous wreck. I don’t think I have ever been this nervous before a date. I shouldn’t be. It’s not a blind date and I already know he likes me and I like him, so why the nerves? Actually I know why. I have had a thing for the blue eyed biker, past and present, since I was a little girl. Now I’m nearing my thirties and I finally get to go out with him. I am aware of the fact that I may have put Blade on too high a pedestal though. In some way I think I am in love with the fantasy of him and not the real flesh and blood Sean Martin. Hopefully he won’t disappoint tonight.
I start getting ready long before I even need to. I have sat around as long as I can stand to as I wait for time to slowly pass. In the end I just jumped in the shower for a lack of anything better to do. As the hot water sluices over my body I begin to think about Blade. Before long I begin using the scented body wash for something other than just washing. I mean come on, just how dirty can my nipples really be? I take a deep breath as my hands leave my breasts and slip and slide over my ribs, past my flat tummy and to the top of my lady parts. I close my eyes so that my hands slowly morph into Blades strong tanned fingers as they part my thighs and slip inside. My fingers know exactly where to caress, pinch, pull and penetrate and in my fantasy Blades fingers do the same. A soft moan escapes my lips as I picture the naked biker standing under the shower with me and even though I have never seen him naked it takes very little for my mind to begin filling in the blanks. I can almost feel my fingers encircling his engorged cock, rhythmically stroking him, feeling his excitement surging through his swelling shaft to the throbbing head, oozing between my fingers…
