by Nicole Snow
More questions. More curiosities. More dirty, nasty want.
Would he growl into my mouth like this while I straddled him, riding his cock? How hard would he shame every boy I'd ever been with? Would I forget about the ugly scars on my face and all the fucked up insecurities with my clit burning against his skin, sending me to sheer ecstasy, where nothing else mattered?
“Baby. Fuck.” He snarled his words, lust incarnate, when I tore my head away from his, breaking the kiss.
I had to move faster to shatter his grasp. The wildfire in my body broke inside my brain, silenced by the questions and confusion raging through me.
What the fuck was I doing? The inevitable freak out came.
Panic, fierce and relentless as the desire I'd had a second ago.
I broke and ran. He called after me, but even the fire in his voice couldn't stop me.
I turned my pocket inside-out pulling at my keys. Shoving them into the lock, I flipped open the door, and pressed myself flat against the wall inside. About a minute later, I heard his motorcycle's explosive roar, growling into the distance with as much feral disappointment as I had shaking me to pieces.
I pushed past an idiot with a basket full of clothes, wet shame running down my cheeks, and collapsed inside my apartment. I was too fried to think. What happened at the abandoned ranch blew all my fuses, and the kiss outside ruined them for good.
Tomorrow, I told myself I'd make one last ditch effort at moving my father downstate and disappearing for good. He had enough left in his pension and savings to make sure he was taken care of. I didn't care if I ended up homeless.
At least no one would die thanks to my poisonous debt. And I'd never have to think about waking up to Rabid some morning and seeing the disappointment on his face as he realized how fucked up I really was.
He'd never get anything but a fling with a crazy, pockmarked bitch like me. And I wouldn't even do that to either of us. I'd rather run like a fucking coward, leaving everything behind.
It was all the mercy I could offer this man who'd tried his damnedest to help me. I wouldn't infect him with the same toxic regret I lived every day – just like I wouldn't open my heart to this big, demanding, tattooed sledgehammer.
Ruin was his nature. Mine was making sure I didn't absorb any more savagery from anyone on a Harley. It didn't matter if hurt came wrapped in fierce commands and the most lickable skin I'd ever seen mounted to two wheels.
He was all pain, and I was too fucked up to absorb it. I couldn't. I had to go.
The next day, I woke with a pounding headache. Going through two hours of run around at the nursing home didn't help.
The bitchy administrators did everything in their power to stonewall my questions about moving him. Wasn't hard to see they were hellbent on keeping him there forever, anything to bleed what little remained dry.
Around noon, I stormed out. It was visiting time anyway, and for once I was looking forward to sitting down with my father after dealing with this shit. It might take my mind off the fact we were both in serious danger as soon as Rabid's promises got to Big Ed.
Dad slumped in his wheelchair near the usual window when I found him. He woke up groggy, irritated, just as confused as ever. I reached for his hand, warming his cold skin with mine.
“We're going to take a nice trip soon, dad. Somewhere warmer, better,” I purred, trying to soothe him as much as myself. “I just have to work out the nitty-gritty. I promise, I'm going to keep you safe.”
His eyes lit up. For a second, I swore he knew exactly who I was, and he sat up straight in his chair, reaching for my face.
“Why do you go through so much trouble for an old man? This place's downright tropical, girl. You know how fucking cold it got hauling salmon and crab into Anchorage?”
I laughed. I remembered exactly how brutal Alaska used to be during the cold months. Yeah, something had definitely given him back his wits today.
“Those were great times, dad. Sometimes, I wish we never left. I wish we hadn't moved here. Alaska might've kept me grounded. I wouldn't have run off and gotten into trouble because there was nowhere to run off to.”
He blinked. “You kill trouble. Me and my brothers used to raise pure hell in the Killers. This one time, the Prez asked us to do in this fat little bully. Bastard was a fisherman like me, he brought his crap north from the west coast to sell, ice and heroin. Nothing our crew wanted anything to do with. He liked to beat his wife too.”
I swallowed, wondering if he'd plug the last few holes in his memories. Jesus, I hadn't thought of this story myself for several years. I hoped nobody heard him, or if they did, it was just crazy enough to chalk up to the ramblings of an old man out of his mind.
Dad blinked again, and a knowing smile spread across his lips. “We never enjoyed putting the sickos down like hogs. This one, I did, because he led me to the woman who changed my whole damned life. Did you ever meet my wife, Aida?”
“Maybe a couple times,” I whispered. “You know we go way back.”
“Yeah...I thought you looked familiar. My memory's not what it used to be.” He cocked his head, seriously trying to remember who I was for a minute before giving up. “Anyway, my Aida was just a bruised, beat up, shaken little thing when I first met her. Didn't have a damned clue she'd end up becoming the best old lady a man could ever have – the best wife. She gave me a little girl before the sea took her home to heaven.”
My breaths were slower, shallower. That stupid headache hit its apex and finally began to wane, draining in the emotional climax this conversation was bringing. Why did his best days have to correspond to my worst?
“You don't worry about taking me anywhere, nurse.” He reached over, gingerly patting my hand. “You can't run from what life gives ya. You gotta take it by the horns – the good, the bad, everything. Moving me out of this place won't bring me any closer to my girl. She's waiting for me when it's my time. And my Christa's out there too. She's such a restless girl.” He stopped, taking a good long look at me. “You look a lot like her, you know that? Gorgeous red hair – just like hers.”
I turned away. My head was spinning, and the tears were coming. I wiped them, refusing to face him, trying to focus on his words. It was better than thinking about the hell, the disappointment, the wall I'd thrown up against Rabid.
“I don't deserve to look like anyone you love. I've made too many fucking mistakes for that.” It all came rolling out. “I wish I could be the girl you're imagining.”
I shouldn't have expected him to have any clue what I was getting at. But when he squeezed my hand and I met his eyes, I believed he knew I was his daughter. There was dear old dad, the headstrong badass, always ready to support me against the worst the world had to offer.
I still hadn't gotten over the fact that I'd taken his money too for that stupid bar.
“You can't keep living your life with regrets, girl. I beat myself up for a long time over the shipwreck that took my wife. If I'd called off our anniversary surprise and hadn't sailed into that fucking storm, my little girl wouldn't have lost her mother before she could even know her.” He sighed. “I did some seriously reckless shit. I drank myself stupid. I rode long and hard up the Dalton Highway north of Fairbanks. My brothers in the MC knocked me down and drove some sense into my head before it was too late. Realized I had my daughter, and Aida in my heart. When it finally sunk in, I couldn't do anything but live without looking behind me.”
Wise words. Wise, and obscenely painful just now. It wasn't just the disease in his brain talking either. The dad I knew always looked forward, never at the darkness in his wake.
That was why we'd come to Redding. He was too old to work in fishing anymore, and his old MC mostly dissolved. Too many good men lost, strong men I'd called uncles growing up.
We wanted to experience the world beyond pitch black winters and bitter cold. He wanted to give me a better life, a chance at college, a place to settle down and build something.
Maybe the
fact that I'd blown it all to shit didn't really matter. I still appreciated everything he'd done, and damn it, he was right.
So was Rabid.
I couldn't keep living in constant fear. Terror sat heavy on my shoulders now that the Grizzles were about to butt heads over my debt, but something was always bound to give sooner or later.
“Hey. You feeling better, girl? Don't tell me you're going to go out and waste another summer day on me. I'm an old man. It's your turn to have your place in the sun while you're young and pretty. I won't be responsible for wasting it. Time's more precious than you know. You understand me, Christa?”
My jaw practically hit the floor. My hands were shaking as they wrapped around his, and it took a long time to force down the lump in my throat. Too long.
“Dad...you know who I am?”
He paused, his eyes darkening a little more than I liked. “Of course I do! You're that nice new hire they transferred in from Sacramento, aren't you?”
Over and done. Just like that. Slowly, I pulled my hands back, and then gave him one last pat on the shoulder as I rose.
“We'll visit next week. Same time. Same place.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “I sure hope so. Tell them to get me a new razor on your way out, dear. Fucking things never last more than a month or two.”
“I can do that.” Smiling, I headed out, into the waiting sun.
Dad went through electric razors like nobody's business. He'd lost his mind and a lot of muscle, but his hands were still strong. The cheap blades wore down with how hard he pressed them to his face. Soon, it probably wouldn't be an issue, whenever he reached the point where he couldn't shave anymore.
He'd done the same thing sometimes at home, especially the older he got. Thick hair, he said, from too many years living a hard life in the cold. I believed he ran them too long because the whir of the blades reminded him of his motorcycle's growl.
IV: So Bad It Hurts (Rabid)
I was just sober enough to remember how fucking incredible her lips were on mine, how hot and eager and sweet her little mouth tasted. But I was also too fucked up to care, stumbling around like an idiot while Asphalt and I took turns at the dartboard next to the bar.
“Fucking shit, Rabid!” he yelled. “Our colors aren't the frigging bullzeye!”
I laughed as he sped over to the wall where I'd planted my latest shot, at least two feet from the actual board. I'd hit the corner of the clubhouse's old Grizzlies MC flag. Another foot over, anywhere on the bear's snarling face, and I'd have gotten a well deserved beat down from the brothers.
Had a feeling I was fucked. I'd reached the point where inviting trouble sounded good. A few blows to the face might blast some sorely needed sense into my skull, or else make me forget all about Miss Hard-To-Fucking-Get.
Asphalt walked back to me, shaking his bald head. “One more miss like that and you're done, brother. I'm not gonna take the fall if any of the officers walk in on this shit.”
I grabbed the half-depleted bottle of Jack off the counter and swung it to my lips. Hot relief poured down my throat, harsh as lightning. Shit hit my guts and exploded, the next best thing to being pinned to the ground while Roman's fist plowed my face.
I had to forget. Needed to. I'd flown way too close to that beautiful redheaded sun, and she'd scorched me for the last fucking time.
Why the fuck was she so caught up on her goddamned face anyway? I knew those scars made her think she was ugly. But, seriously, it's like the girl didn't own a fucking mirror.
If she did, there should've been no doubt she was the hottest piece of ass who ever called this city home.
Shit.
There she was again, rooted deep in my brain, making me wonder how those soft red locks I'd held would contrast with the pert pink nipples I'd felt hardening against my chest.
Missed. Fucking. Opportunities.
My motor skills were too far gone to drink and walk at the same time. I drained another three shots in one big gulp, and slammed into Asphalt's shoulder.
“Sonofabitch!” He screamed. “Hey, lady! Look out!”
Some blonde chick I'd never seen before was walking through the bar. My heart pinched shut as the dart sailed right next to her face and slapped the wall.
Uh-oh.
Asphalt spun, slammed his palms into my chest. I took a swing at my very pissed off brother and missed, dropping to the floor and landing right on my drunken face. Thank fuck it was numb.
“Asshole! What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you trying to get somebody killed?” His boot connected with my ribs. The hot crack rippled through my chest.
I rolled, tasting blood, laughing just the same. Christ. I was totally, completely fucked, twisting on the floor like a dumb kid who'd just had his first good joint.
Asphalt was still screaming at me, stooped over, roaring in my face so loud and hard his words were almost incomprehensible. I felt his spit mist my face, and reached up to wipe it off, trying to decide whether I should spring up and bust his jaw.
Why should you? A disapproving voice piped up in my head. You're drunk off your ass, bro. But not so drunk you're blind to acting like a total asswipe – and not fucking drunk enough to forget her!
Her.
Christa Sexy Kimmel, part medusa, hot as she was stone cold. She couldn't be all woman. There had to be snakes hiding in her sweet red hair somewhere. This chick was turning me to dirt – or was it rock? Fuck if Greek mythology had ever been my strong point.
Another kick landed in my side. I heaved, sucking smoky air, trying to get the fuck up, when I realized Asphalt was gone. He'd gone over to apologize profusely to the woman who'd walked in.
I was on my hands and knees, staggering up with some help from the bar's counter, when I looked up and had my heart lodge right in my throat. Roman was heading toward me after leaving Blackjack's office, and he looked set on putting me outta my misery.
“Shit! I'm fucking sorry, bro. Me and Asphalt were drinking, we got a little carried away, and I –“ My mindless banter was broken by a hiccup. He was only a couple feet away now, close enough to smell the whiskey seeping from my pores.
“Get the fuck outta my way.” Roman shoved me aside, heading for the leggy blonde.
I held myself against the counter, only breathing easy when it was totally clear he wasn't gonna split my skull in two. No, he was after the chick. They knew each other.
Whatever was going on, it wasn't a happy reunion. The giant walked her over to a quiet corner, where she disappeared in his shadow.
Had to hand it to her. The mystery girl clearly wasn't intimidated, judging by the look on her face. Meanwhile, I was halfway sprawled across the bar top, ready to piss my pants when I thought our Sergeant-at-Arms was heading for me.
Idiot. Thank fuck the clubhouse was sparse tonight, or I'd never live it down.
“Here!” Asphalt's fist came down next to my face. The darts in his hand hit the counter hard. “Clean this shit up, and then take care of yourself. Seriously, brother. This is the only fucking break I'm cutting your ass if you keep wrecking shit tonight. I'm not your buddy Brass.”
We shared an icy look and then he was gone. Bastard was still shaking his wide cue ball head on his way outta the clubhouse.
It took fucking forever to get the darts back by the board. Fine movements and motor control were a crazy dream. Crossing into Roman's line of sight, I tried not to draw attention to myself.
Wasn't difficult with his eyes anchored to the strange chick, speaking to her in low, hushed words. I couldn't quite make out what he was saying, but it was more than I'd heard him talk since he was patched into our charter.
I was about to head back when exploding glass vibrated through the air. Flattening myself against the wall, I spun as quickly as I could without falling to the ground to find out where the fuck it came from.
A bottle lay in pieces at the blonde chick's heels. Her fingers twitched – wasn't sure if she'd dropped it or thrown it. Her bright
red face beamed fire at Roman as he stomped away, walking past me, heading for the clubhouse's depths.
“Go ahead and walk the fuck away again, you coward!” she screamed. “At least this time I know it's not the prisons and the courts holding you back! You're not man enough to handle us.”
Roman just kept going. The girl was playing with fucking fire, and she'd actually gotten away with it unscratched. I fully expected him to turn around and make her say that again, this time with his massive hand wrapped around her throat.
No, the giant kept going. He was fucking outta there. Who the hell knew retreat was in his vocabulary?
“Hey!” I blocked her path as she tried to follow him. “What the fuck's going on here, lady? Who are you?”
“Out of my face!” She collided with my chest and tried to push me aside.
The girl had fight, but I was much bigger than her. Heavy and stupid as an anchor in my fucked up state too. She squealed as we spun together, and I flattened her against the wall.
“Jesus Christ! Calm the fuck down. I thought I was the only asshole in this bar making messes tonight...”
Her dark blue eyes flashed at me. Next thing I knew, her hands wrapped around my neck. Her fingernails sunk into my skin like little daggers, and she pulled me forward with all her might, trying to get my lips on hers.
What the fuck!?
I broke free and went crashing against the bar. Gave me a minute to study her. Yeah, she was sexy on the eyes and freakishly willing – I knew that look in a woman's eyes – but I wasn't gonna twine tongues with this weirdo who'd just been up close and personal with Roman.
She wasn't the one I wanted. Didn't much fancy the beat down I'd narrowly escaped from the Enforcer either.
“What's eating you?” she demanded. “I'm not pretty enough for you? Or are all the guys in this club just a buncha pussies with mean tats and big muscles?”
“It's not like that.” I didn't owe her a damned explanation, but I gave it to her anyway, hoping it'd get this shit off my back. “There's somebody else on my mind, babe. I might be sauced to the gills with Jack, but I'm not blind. I know you're not her.”
