by Rye Hart
Chapter Nine
We rode on into the sunset, leaving Georgia behind us. We were right at the Tennessee-Georgia border and so we managed to cross into Tennessee within an hour. We kept driving, weaving through the mountains before we finally stopped in a small town called Mont Eagle.
The bikes were parked and hotel rooms were rented. I noticed that Dylan used a fake name and had to wonder if there were possibly warrants out for his arrest.
I had just settled on one of the queen sized beds in the room that I was apparently now going to share with Dylan – a practical stranger. I was terrified, angry, and wished this was all just a dream. I still knew nothing about Dylan or his men, but I had a feeling I was going to be finding out sooner rather than later. Atleast, I knew that Dylan saved me that night at the bar, and there must have been a reason for that. I would do my best to use this to my advantage.
Dylan sighed and pulled his shirt over his head, rolling his neck and his shoulders a little as he looked down at me. I turned my head, hoping to hide the fact that my cheeks were flushed.
"Where are you taking me?" I murmured.
“Doesn’t really matter, does it?” he asked, looking over at me. “You end up where we end up. That’s all you need to know.”
My chest was practically bubbling with frustration. I wanted to reach out and slap him across the face I wanted to hit him until he was black and blue. I just wanted to do something. I was tired of sitting around like a damsel in distress.
“I don’t want to be here,” I whispered.
He frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t really care if you want to be here or not. Look, I helped you out, but right now I’m doing my job” he murmured, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket. “You have to square with the fact that you’re here now and that isn’t going to change for a long time” he said.
His words dug into me and I looked away, angry and frustrated. I wanted out of this place, but it seemed I was going to have to get creative to get out.
He must have seen the determined look in my eye because he leaned back, focusing on me. He blew a plume of smoke out of the corner of his mouth and I almost wanted to remind him that this was a no smoking room, but that was stupid. He didn’t care.
“What’s going through that pretty head of yours?”
“None of your damn business.”
“You think you’re going to get away, don’t you?” he hummed. “You think you’re going to run away and get out of this mess, well, I have news for you, girly,” He growled. “You have nowhere to go. You going to go back to dear old dad? Let the real bad guys get you?”
I didn’t say anything, I just looked straight ahead and tried to keep myself under control. The last thing I wanted was to cry. I didn’t want him to know how badly those words stung.
“You think I’m doing this because I want to?” he grunted. “You think anyone is in this situation because we wanted to be? Hell no. I’m taking care of you because your dad used to be one of us and once you’re in the family, you’re in the family for good. I owe him the years he dedicated to us. It’s our code. You may not understand that but tough shit.”
I didn’t say anything because I had nothing to say. I laid back and stared up at the ceiling, my heart racing. The worst part of it wasn’t that I was stuck with this gang now. I could have handled that. What stung so bad was that Dylan was right. Even if I managed to get away, I didn’t have anywhere to go. Who would protect me?
I had to stay here.
Chapter Ten
I hated it but I was now the property of a biker gang. There wasn’t much I could do about it except be smart and try to find a way out. We loaded up on the bikes the next morning and started back towards Nashville. We drove through the city and it took my breath away. As miserable as I was, I couldn’t hold back my admiration for the beauty of this place. Atleast I had that.
I found myself in a new city completely alone and without a method of escape. I had no money and no way to get home, and even if I did, I didn't have a home anymore.
We kept driving through Nashville and didn’t stop until we hit the rural, rolling hills of a town called Dickson. We drove down a long dirt road, and as we did certain bikers started turning into the driveways of small homes. Children ran out to greet their fathers, throwing their arms around the men as they walked inside their houses.
Dylan finally came to stop at a classical looking plantation house. It was big, though it wasn’t ridiculous. It was definitely a kind of status symbol. He clearly wanted to make sure everyone knew he was top dog. He parked the bike in an attached garage and helped me off. I shook him off, not wanting to seem dependent. I was trying to maintain some of my dignity.
I crossed my arms over my chest and followed him into the very classical looking house. It was lovely but had very few furnishings and decorations. The house was big, and it must have been handed down to him. I had a hard time believing that being the leader of a biker gang was a lucrative career.
“Pretty big house,” I murmured, looking around.
“The only perk of being the leader,” he murmured.
The only perk? Did he not like having all this power?
“So you live here in this big place and everyone else lives in little houses,” I snorted.
“We get by. My people are happy,” he said simply.
“How’d you get this house? Who did you have to rob?”
“Look Alex. I get this is the last place you want to be and I’m doing my best to be civil. But you’re acting like an damn brat. You keep acting like that and see where it gets you,” he snarled.
My eyes widened but I fell silent and turned away from him.
We wandered through the house until we came to a set of bedrooms. They were side by side and one was much larger than the other. The smaller one was decorated in soft, pale blues and whites and had a nice, airy feel to it.
“Well, this will be your room, I’m sure you’ll want to get settled.”
My brows were knitted together as I stared into the room. He glanced at me and looked me up and down. “Is there a problem?” he grunted.
“Why are you giving me my own room? Aren’t you going to chain me up in a dungeon or something?”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because that’s what criminals and drug dealers do. Besides, what if I run away?” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.
“I might be an asshole, but I don’t work with junkies. We don’t deal drugs and at the end of the day, we aren’t the bad guys. We are trying to make a difference in our communities,” he said, leaning against the door frame. “You’re not here out of cruelty, Alex. You’re here because that’s business,” he said. “And I’m not worried about you running. We’ve already talked about where that will lead.”
I was at a loss for words when he answered, mostly because I knew he was right. Everything he said was truth, but I wasn’t about to admit it. n
“But if you don’t deal drugs and kidnap people, then what do you do?” I asked.
“We’re vigilantes,” he said. “We take care of the guys who beat their wives or hurt their kids. We make sure that the law catches up with the scumbags of our city. We’re just trying to help the people the law won’t help. You think they come out here? You think that some of these people are able to get help? Sometimes we’re the only guys who can take out the trash,” he murmured, putting an unlit cigarette between his lips. “Sometimes my men can get a little carried away like my guy, Snake - but we do our best to show everyone the right way. You’ll come to understand how we work around here.”
He watched me, clearly enjoying the shocked look on my face. He smirked and leaned in, brushing his fingers along my jaw. I hated the way the touch electrified me.
“Good night, Alex. I’ll see you in the morning.”
He left me in the hall way, stunned and flushing from embarrassment. This man was getting under my skin and I couldn’t bring mysel
f to fight the pulsating attraction I felt for him. Not only was he incredibly sexy but I was now even more intridged by his story about his group’s mission. They was here to actually help people? How is that even possible? A vigilant biker gang? We’ll have to see about that.
Chapter Eleven
The night passed slowly. A part of me was afraid to go to sleep; I was waiting for the other boot to drop and that fear made it difficult to close my eyes. This was all so strange. They were rough around the edges, but somehow I could see some good in here. I was stuck, so I guess I had to see some good.
I laid awake, staring up at the ceiling, my eyes wet with unshed tears as I thought about what might happen to Mike. He was a douche bag but he was my dad after all. I still hated him for giving me over to the biker gang without warning, but I was beginning to accept that he didn’t have much options. He was afraid for my life. He couldn’t hand me back to my mom because he would be left risking both our lifes at that point.
As expected, I didn’t sleep well that night despite the cool southern breeze and the soft bed. The sheets were musty and a bit unkempt, but still comfortable.
I tossed and turned all night, dozing off here and there until the sun finally started to rise. As the sun peaked over the rolling Tennessee hills I stumbled out of bed and wandered into the kitchen, my eyes red and stinging from a combination of crying and not enough sleep. I took it upon myself to go through the cabinets and locate dishes and food. I secretly thanked the universe when I saw a box of Pop Tarts shoved into the back of a cabinet.
It took some climbing, but I managed to grab them and toss them onto the counter, putting one in the toaster. Hell, I might even consider having two. These last few days had been a wild ride. I waited patiently for my breakfast, smothering the sweet treat with butter once it popped. I was practically starving.
As I ate my breakfast in peace, my phone began to ring and my heart fluttered. I was convinced it was my father, but when I looked down, I saw that it was Gina. Part of me was relieved and part of me was saddened that my father wasn’t calling. I swallowed thickly but picked up the phone and answered the video call.
Gina’s face popped up on my screen and it was clear she’d been crying. Guilt ate at my belly and I frowned a little. “Gina are you okay?”
“Did you really just ask me that fucking question?! Of course I’m not okay! We were supposed to meet for lunch and you never showed up! You haven’t been answering my texts and this is the first call I could get to go through! I know you’re mad about the biker bar, but completely ignoring me isn’t cool!” she practically yelled.
A stab of guilt made my chest tighten and I sighed, looking down and nodding slowly. “I know, I know. I’m sorry, Gina. A lot of shit has happened the last few days,” I muttered, dropping my head into my arms.
The look on Gina’s face softened and she frowned a little. “What’s going on?” she asked, her voice far more understanding now.
I swallowed and wiped my eyes, lifting my head to catch her gaze. There may have been a great many miles separating us and talking to her on the phone wasn’t the same as talking to her in real life, but it was still comforting to just see her face and know that someone was missing me.
“It’s still so fucking surreal,” I whispered, laughing bitterly.
She frowned and looked at me for a long moment. “You’re starting to freak me out, girl.”
I wiped my eyes and took a deep breath. “My dad got into some trouble with bikers and now I’m living with his old gang,” I blurted out.
“WHAT?! Oh my God! OH MY GOD! Did you have to sneak your phone away? Are they holding you hostage?! I’m calling the cops! Where are you?!”
“Don’t call the cops, okay? I’m fine.”
“What the hell do you mean girl?! You’ve been gone for like three days, don’t tell me you have Stockholm syndrome already!”
I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “No, I’m fine. They’re not complete assholes, and I’ve had some real time to think. This is the best place for me right now. If I leave, I’ll be in real trouble and I’ll be putting others in danger with me. Apparently, there are some real bad guys after me. At least I know I’m safe here.”
“Are you cracked in the head? Are you being serious right now? Do you HEAR yourself?” Gina yelled.
“Of course I do,” I murmured, rolling my eyes again. “Listen, I can’t go back my my mom and risk these guys following me. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if my mom got hurt.” I said, with tears running down my face.
“Come with me,” Gina offered.
“Gina, the same applies to you!”
“You can’t live some weird outlaw life with bikers! Where are you anyway?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Why the hell not?” Gina asked.
“Because you’ll call the cops. I’ll tell you eventually, but for now I’m okay, alright? Just accept it.”
“Whatever happened to the girl who hated bikers?”
I shrugged “I’m not sayig I’ve changed my mind entirely but Dylan says they are a vigilant gang, with a mission to help people. Do you remember Dylan? The hot biker guy that saved me at the bar? He’s the leader of this biker gang and the one I’m staying with.”
She sighed and shook her head. “Holy cow are you serious? That hottie with the nice ass?! Well I guess that’s the ONE good thing I can see in this insane situation. I don’t like it at all, but you’ve always had a good head on your shoulders and I know you can take care of yourself. Are you sure you aren’t being threatened or held at gunpoint or whatever?”
I sighed and stood up, holding the camera and circling the room. It was a fairly normal kitchen with good light and no one holding a gun. I circled slowly so that she could see the whole room before finally setting the phone down and putting my chin in my hand.
“See? No guns,” I assured.
She still seemed hesitant but nodded. “Alright. But if you need me, you call, okay? And answer my texts! Like, you need to check in with me.”
I smiled and nodded. “Of course I will. It’s just been a bit of a wild ride,” I murmured.
“Understood. Keep me in the loop, okay? I don’t want to be worrying about you.”
“Alright.”
“Love you.”
“Love you too.”
I hit END and stared at the phone, already missing my best friend.
Chapter Twelve
I was still a bit nervous to find myself living with a bunch of bikers. I didn’t trust them as much as they seemed to want me to, but I was getting there. It was hard to override such a primal fear that I’d always had. Althoug, admittedly, my views were slowly being challenged as I got to know Dylan more and more.
A softer, more gentle side of Dylan was being revealed to me. It was almost as if he kept his true nature hidden before. It seemed a natural thing to do for someone in his position. Dylan was now kind to me. He encouraged me to go around and meet the other people in the community, though I suspected that was to get me to admit and realize that maybe bikers weren’t as bad as I thought. I couldn’t blame him for wanting to try and show me the good things his community was doing. I owed him that much for taking me in.
I sighed and threw a pat of butter into a skillet, putting a hand on my hip as I watched it melt. I’d just come back from a long walk and my stomach was gurgling very loudly, begging me for food. I couldn’t, in good conscious, tell it no. I was thankful that Dylan’s house always seemed to be stocked with food. At least I wasn’t going to go hungry any time soon.
Dylan poked his head into the kitchen from the living room, his hair brushed back out of his piercing eyes. His face seemed softer than it ever had.
“Hey, what are you doing?”
“Making food,” I said, flipping the sandwich.
“You got a minute?”
“I guess so. What do you need?” I asked, wiping my hands on the kitchen towel.
“Just come with me,”
he said, leading me outside.
We exited the plantation house and when we came out there was a group of Dylan’s men gathered around a few small children. I frowned deeply and looked at the two children then at the people gathered around them.
“What’s-,” I started.
“Be quiet and watch,” he said, nodding towards them.
A woman came running through the crowd of men and scooped the children into her arms, sobbing softly and stroking their hair.
“My babies! My babies are back!” she wailed.
“We rescued those kids.”
“What?” I asked, eyes wide.
He tucked his hands into his pockets and nodded towards the bar that served the patrons of the small biker town. I followed him inside and we settled on stools. He grabbed the nearest bottle of booze and poured us each a shot. He downed his in one fell swoop and I sipped at mine.
“You wanted me to see that?”
“You're damn right I did,” he murmured.
“Why?”
“Because you think we’re the bad guys.”
I looked away and frowned. “I’m starting to see I was wrong.”
A moment of silence passed between us and I glanced at him. “Why are you guys so different from the rest?”
“I inherited it.”
“There’s more than that,” I murmured.
He hesitated and turned the glass over in his hands and then looked at me. “When I was little, just a kid, I wanted to be a cop. My dad thought I was crazy. I was next in line to take over a biker gang and I wanted to be a cop,” he snorted at the irony. “Then I saw a cop beat the ever living shit out of a poor homeless person. My younger brother, Mikie, was extremely naïve and he wasn’t afraid of anything. He jumped in without warning to help the homeless guy and he got a bullet in the head. The cop didn’t see a lick of jail time because he said it was self-defense, but I saw everything,” he said with tears running down his face. “I gave a statement and organized several rallies, but no one listened.”
