by Nicole Snow
I struggled against him. He put his fucking hand over my face and squeezed, grunting as I drove my fist into his abs. Fuck. It was too hard to do any serious damage to him. I cared too much, even when he was choking me.
“Let me the fuck up!” I screamed. “I'll fucking kill him!”
Brass' hand disappeared. Something hard and furry smashed me across the face. When the stars stopped spinning in my eyes, I saw Blackjack had replaced Brass next to me, holding up the club's bear claw gavel with murder in his eyes.
“You're going to cut the shit right now, son, or you'll be losing a few teeth next.” He lifted the claw over his head, ready to swing like a bonafide caveman.
I blinked when I thought he'd hit me across the face again, but the claw hit the wall instead. Hard. Left a fucking hole in the old wood.
The commotion slowed, just in time for Blackjack to get on the table. He climbed faster than I expected for someone who'd taken a bullet to the leg just weeks ago during the final battle with Fang.
“Brothers! Shut your fucking mouths and put your fists down. Take a deep breath. Fill your lungs until they're going to burst. This isn't us. This shit all around you isn't brotherhood.”
Several men lowered their eyes in shame. Asphalt glared at me over Brass' shoulder. My friend had strategically positioned himself between us with the prospects to break up new fights. Even Roman stopped struggling on the floor, grunting through his teeth.
“You're welcome to disagree. You're welcome to call a vote on anything that's club biz. That's what the charter says. And it also says you're never supposed to come to blows with anybody else wearing this patch unless there's a damned good reason.”
He did a slow turn, making sure we could see the bear roaring on his cut. It was the same thing that bound us all together, our common bond. Kept me from beating fuckers like Asphalt to a bloodless pulp when they weren't being so brotherly.
“Rabid and Roman,” he spoke our names, leaning down and looking at us with both hands on his knees. “You're entitled to have this club vote if you want. You're clearly outnumbered, but we'll do it anyway if it'll help you settle the fucking rocks in your heads. Is that what you boys need to be sane, or what?”
There was a long pause. I shook my head. No fucking point. We were totally outnumbered. The Enforcer was right behind me, refusing to meet the Prez's eyes.
“Look at me. That's an order,” Blackjack growled.
Roman did. “No. No vote,” he said, climbing on his feet as his handlers released him.
“All right. Then it seems we're fucking done here. If anybody wants to start a fight again,” he said, looking straight at me. “They'll be answering to me and all their brothers for fucking up this club. We move as one. All we've got in this life is each other, understand? You can shake your head, you can rage, you can vote fuck no. But as long as nobody's spilling his brother's blood or draining his wallet, torturing innocents with no good reason like the man with this gavel before me, then you keep your goddamned hands to yourselves! If you've got a question about any of that, you bring it to me.” He thumped his chest.
Brass nodded, looked at me, hoping I understood. I did.
I also knew this crazy fucking thing with Christa had just gotten a hundred times harder. Going after Ed for her was gonna be going against Blackjack, against the club, against my brothers.
The Prez didn't fucking understand. None of them did. I couldn't abandon her. Didn't give a shit if the Oregon bastards were showering us in gold coins and perfect pussy. They'd bribed their asses out of trouble – for now.
Only with the club. Not with me.
I'd wait as long as I possibly could for the blowout with Ed, but it was fucking coming. Sure as the storm in Blackjack's eyes when he looked over us like knights in his kingdom.
Later that evening, I was tuning up my bike, trying to stay the fuck away from everybody else. Church ended not long after Blackjack's high and mighty proclamation: we were supposed to grin through our teeth and work with the Oregon boys as long as they were killing the cartel. No matter how much anybody mistrusted them.
Couldn't fucking believe it. Couldn't. The Prez was either desperate, fooled, or he'd gone off the goddamned deep end.
I wasn't about to start a riot against Blackjack like we all did with Fang. If this was a mistake – and it sure as hell was – then it was an honest one. The Prez wasn't maliciously blind, even if the decision he'd made caused me to wonder if he was going senile. No, it was obvious – the Klamath crew pulled the wool over the Blackjack's eyes, but they hadn't corrupted him.
My hands were covered in grease and oil. When I went to pull my wrench outta the crevice in my bike, it slipped in my fingers and pinched my skin tight. Gave myself a nice long scratch pulling out.
“Fuck!” I banged the wrench down, snarling, sucking engine oil and blood through my teeth.
The bike was good to go, and I'd reached my fucking limit. If anybody walked in on me right now, I'd find their head and start smashing it in the ground like a maniac. I had to get the fuck outta here before I got myself killed for defying the Prez.
I had to see her, the only chick in the world who stood a chance at calming my ass down. Even when she was sassing me, screaming at me, or giving me the cold fucking shoulder, it was something. Christa reminded me I still had a pulse. She let me enjoy all the nuances between numbness and hot outrage, things I couldn't find anymore inside this clubhouse.
The killer body attached to her perfect flaming hair didn't hurt neither. My dick ballooned and strained in my pants the instant I thought about her. Hungry, yearning, losing its little mind right along with me.
Lust turned my blood molten when I traced her curves in my brain. Goddamn. The woman barely had a clue what she did to me, and I had to make her understand.
Tonight.
The psycho games had to end, and so did this obsession. I'd ride this bike to her place, and I wouldn't hop on it again 'til I mounted her like a wild animal. We were fucking tonight one way or another.
Fucking to restore my sanity. Fucking so I didn't leave a crater in the ground with all this pent up need. Fucking so hard I'd feel her pussy clenching on my dick for weeks, taste her on my lips with every new breath, and remember how hard my eyes rolled back when I filled her cunt to overflowing...
Christ. It took a full minute to remember how to move my body after being lost in sexual la-la land.
Reaching for my phone, I flipped it open, ready to dial her number. She was coming out with me tonight one way or another, even if I had to drag her. Didn't expect to see four missed calls. All from her number.
Fuck.
I was on my bike, roaring outta the garage and through the gate, before I had the phone pressed to my ear, listening to the voicemail.
V: Off the Chain (Christa)
Two Hours Earlier
Where the hell was Rabid? Why hadn't he called?
I was seriously starting to wonder if my bitch act had scared him away for good. For once, I truly missed his smug, sexy face, especially now that I'd come to terms with him offering me more than eye candy. Dad's words helped with that. It's funny how much wisdom he still had, despite his memory being shot to hell.
I couldn't believe how wrong I'd been. I hadn't even given him a chance. No, I wasn't ready to jump his sexy bones and let him come crashing into my heart, but he deserved a hearing. I couldn't deny the possibilities he offered anymore.
Rabid was redemption. A way to get rid of Ed and save my father without forking everything over to the bully who wanted to drag me deeper into permanent slavery.
I was lost in my thoughts. It took a little boy's shaky voice to bring me back.
“Christa? It says here the Emperor died on St. Helena after Waterloo. Not Elba.” Martin and I exchanged a stupefied blink.
The kid looked at me like I'd grown a second head, his finger pointed to the right spot in the history book. Crap.
“Jeez! It's a good thing you were pay
ing attention today.” Smiling, I ruffled his hair with my fingers. “Grown ups make mistakes too. Better you learn that today, along with this French history.”
The boy was growing up fast. I missed his innocence, the same thing I'd once had on those long days in Alaska when dad's mind was there, and I didn't have a care in the world.
“Great work today, Martin. Keep working on your report and I'll look it over next lesson. Let's call the day done right here.”
He watched me as I scribbled on a few sticky notes and posted them in his book. I marked the most important chapters in the Napoleon biography he'd picked out. When I'd finished, his mother, Shirley, came into the kitchen where we'd set up to study.
“Bad news, lady,” I said, working the longest face I could manage. “I think you've got a historian on your hands.”
She burst into a grin and laughed. “Seriously, he's doing an amazing job. Pretty soon you won't be paying me at all. He'll be presenting his papers to academics in their ivory towers.”
“Ah, but where would we be without you? I'm glad he's got his history locked down, but there's plenty more to help him with.” The woman reached into her purse and quickly signed another check over to me.
Taking it was so hollow. In another life, I would've done this job for free, anything to help these kids make a better life and avoid my mistakes. Too bad I needed the money to survive, my only defense against Ed until Rabid came through for me.
If he came through, I had to remind myself. It hurt to doubt him, and if he'd abandoned me, I had no one but myself to blame.
We were all up, walking toward the door. Shirley and I lingered on the porch for a moment longer, leaning in close. I didn't like the uneasiness in her eyes.
“That man,” she said. “Does he know you? He's been hanging around across the street since you sat down with Martin.”
“Huh?” I turned around slowly.
Please don't let it be him. Please don't fucking let him be here.
Mercy wasn't in the cards for me today. I saw Ed sitting on his bike, leaning his gut into the handlebars, puffing away on half a cigarette.
I had to work very hard not to scream when I looked at her again. It was awful enough to hear his threats against dad, but if he started to go after Martin and Shirley too?
I'd go to the police, and get myself killed if it came to it. I had to. And that made my heart lodge in my throat like a fat, bitter stone.
“I'm not sure,” I said, calm as I could manage. “Never seen him before. Yeah, you're right to be concerned. I'm honestly surprised. This isn't a rough neighborhood.”
Shirley cocked her head, staring at me. I didn't blame her one bit while I was babbling like a nervous idiot, trying to hide just how much my anxiety seethed underneath my skin.
“Shirley, listen.” I took a deep breath. “If that man takes a step toward this house, call the cops. It's probably nothing, but you can't be too careful these days.”
I had to go. Right now. Shirley reached out and caught my shoulder when I tried to get away.
“Wait! He's parked next to your car. Surely, you're not okay going down there alone? Let me walk you over.”
“No! I'll be fine,” I said, giving her a bitter smile. God. It was like trying to grin while being stabbed. “You can watch from the window to make sure I get out of here okay. Don't worry about me. I know how to talk to bikers if he tries anything. My dad was one.”
Yeah, I knew how to talk to this one, I thought. And it's never helped me one bit.
I walked, feeling her eyes on me the entire time. By the time I got to my car, the nausea flipping my stomach upside down was total. I'd lied through my fucking teeth and it made me sick. For a second, I really considered revving my car and backing right over the asshole as hard as I could.
But that wouldn't get rid of him. Nothing short of a weapon wielded by an equally ruthless badass would at this point. I pulled out slow, steady, checking my rear view mirror and praying he'd follow me – but not too close. I wanted him away from this neighborhood ASAP.
Big Ed wasn't a total idiot. He waited a good minute until I'd turned the first corner before he started his bike. Didn't take him long to catch up. The asshole motioned in the rear view mirror when we were near the highway, gesturing toward a gas station where we'd met several times before.
Naturally, it was one without a camera outside, and minimal traffic buzzing around for this time of day. He had a real knack for picking places where we wouldn't be bothered while he whispered fresh death threats in my ear.
“Don't ever come near that house again!” I shouted it as soon as I was out of my car, slamming the door as he pulled up next to me. “This is between us. You've already fucked with my father. I won't let you look at that woman like that. Christ, she has an eight year old kid.”
He chuckled. Nasty and menacing as always. “What? You think that's not the fucking reason I decided to hang around waiting for your ass? I figured the thought of me fucking the bitch and gutting the kid would do something to you. Do I look like a fucking retard to you?”
No. He looked like he'd just crawled up from the pits of hell, sent to torment me for all the missteps I'd made, a karmic debt collector to break me down for the rest of my miserable life.
“I know exactly what you look like,” I snapped.
Clenching my purse tight to my chest, I wrapped the strap around my hand. I was ready to fight, hit him with the only thing I had if he came a step closer.
Ed seemed to sense the change. His eyes beamed dark interest. He stopped, tossed his cigarette on the ground, and stubbed it out with his boot. Then he cracked his knuckles, a sound that caused my belly to crawl toward my throat.
“Tough words coming from a woman who's put herself in a world of shit. Only question is, you gonna put yourself deeper today, or what? Where's my fucking money, bitch? You're supposed to pay double after falling short last week. I ought to make it more after you bad mouthed me to that Rabid asshole.”
Shit! How does he know?
There was no point in hiding it. “I didn't say anything he doesn't already know. Rabid's a better man than you and your idiots in Klamath, Ed. He's worthy of the Grizzlies patch.”
I must've been absolutely out of my mind. Or maybe too many years being tormented by these pricks were finally boiling to the surface, ready to spill over in a reckless mess.
Ed squinted at me through the setting sunlight. “You wanna come up here and say that to my face, babe? You're bitch enough to say those words – don't think you're bitch enough to take the beating insulting these colors gets you. Come 'ere, I'll show you who's worthy of this motherfucking patch, you vicious cunt!”
He charged me like an overfed bull. Faster than I gave him credit for. I only had time to scream once before my back hit the car and I was lodged against his beefy chest, his hand clapped over my mouth. I halfheartedly swung the purse over my head, trying to hit him in the face. The angle was all wrong.
The monster had me, and now he whispered in my ear. “Don't even think about it, Chrissy. I will kill you, and fuck you in any order I damned well please if you take a swing at me. I don't give a shit what you've been telling your fuck buddy here in the Redding charter neither.”
My bravery retreated in his brutal grip. Fear dominated. Even if I could've given the purse another swing at his ugly face, I wasn't sure I'd have the guts to pull it off.
“Guess you didn't know those boys are on good terms with us again? I dropped a little present for 'em off last night. So fucking good, they won't make a peep if I tell 'em I'm taking every dime you have – or even if I slit your scrawny throat. There's no getting out of this shithole you've buried yourself in, baby girl. And I'm gonna pile it all over your head until you fucking suffocate.” Ed paused, crazy excitement in his evil voice. “Now, let's try this again. I've always been a three strikes kinda guy. Where's. My. Fucking. Money?”
His arms were locked tight around my neck, choking me little by little.
The next ten seconds felt like an hour as I struggled to breathe, and realized with horror I couldn't. He had me beat. He could snap my neck back here and leave me paralyzed or dead, and no one would know.
If I could've prayed, I would've begged for mercy. Mercy, or Rabid. God, what I would've given to have that man here right now.
My hands moved on pure instinct, offering up the purse. Ed ripped it out of my hands, pushed me to the ground. I barely had time to get my hands out before I collided with the pavement, getting a few scratches, gasping for air.
Things kept clattering onto the ground behind me. My phone, a roll of antacids, an old book with phone numbers of friends I'd lost years ago, a flimsy photo of dad next to his motorcycle outside Anchorage, grinning with a little redheaded girl at his side.
This wasn't the way I expected my life to flash before my eyes.
When I turned around, Ed had a knife in one hand, and he'd dropped the leather bag. He was going through my wallet, pulling out the flimsy bills I had stuffed in there. He found Shirley's check too.
Jesus, I never expected him to take the thirty bucks I had in there for food. Crawling toward him, I couldn't stop the tears, gushing like a broken fool.
“Please! I need that money to eat. How am I supposed to pay you anything if I starve?”
Amusement pulled at his lips. “You got a lot of fucking fat in all the right places, bitch. You'll live. Figure it the fuck out. I don't care if you've gotta rob a few places or suck a hundred dicks. Shit, maybe you live off some fucker's jizz and save a few extra nickels for me. Be a doll and sign this fucking thing over.”
He pulled out a pen, shoving the check in my face. He was really demanding everything this time. If I didn't find some way to raise more money, I wouldn't be able to make my rent. I'd be homeless and starving.
“Sign it!” He bent down with his gut hanging, barking in my face so hard I felt his wretched spittle hit my cheek.
That was it. All I could take in his vile mist. I'd do anything to have this animal out of my face. I angrily scrawled my signature and his name, handing it over.
