by Nicole Reed
It spurred her to jump out of his bed and rush to him. Hold caught her bare body, one of his arms wrapping itself around her waist, and lifting her enough so that she could slide her legs around him, anchoring Shyla against his body. Their lips met and the uncertainty of their future was lost behind the blindingly hot desire coiling in her belly.
Hold’s hands were everywhere. Every caress of his fingertips sent spirals of need down her spine. His unshaven jaw was sensually rough brushing against her mouth and face. Over and over his lips plundered hers, making them lose themselves in each other. He maneuvered her until she was sitting on top of his bedroom dresser. It stood at the perfect height for their bodies to fit with him standing between her thighs.
The intense longing to have him inside of her had once again become a living, breathing entity, propelling her fingers to wrestle with the button and zipper of his jeans. Never releasing her mouth, Hold’s own hand joined Shyla’s quest to get his pants undone, exposing his thick erection. He impaled her with a hard thrust, eliciting a groan of pure pleasure that echoed off the walls at the overwhelming sensation of him completely filling her.
With his brutal strength he did all the work. Her hands drifted down the rigid muscles of his back until she was able to grasp his butt. She held on tight, digging her fingers into his flesh as he flexed with force, using his hips, making every thrust reach the top of her cervix. The mirror behind her shook with the exertion of his movements as her pussy clenched with a desperate need to keep Hold deeply inside, but it only hastened the orgasm that made her scream out.
“Hold!” Shyla shouted his name.
Her release triggered Hold’s. She heard him suck in air, loudly gasping with each pant yet he continued to kiss her between every heavy breath and pulsing ejection of hot cum spurting between her thighs. The feel of his body jerking with satisfied need set off another round of orgasms inside of Shyla and Hold held on tight, squeezing her to him.
Once she could feel her toes again, Shyla slipped from his grasp. Her legs almost buckled when they touched his bedroom floor. Hold reached out to steady Shyla to keep her from falling.
“Easy,” he said with a slight smile in his voice as he singlehandedly grasped his jeans to pull them up.
Shyla glanced up to watch him lower his mouth to kiss her and yelped when he scooped her up simultaneously, fitting his arm behind her knees to cradle Shyla against his chest. It was a romantic gesture and so out of character for Hold. He carried her into his bathroom, very carefully setting her feet down on the floor. Shyla silently watched him reach for several white towels and matching washcloths from the linen closet before turning the sink faucet on. He slowly ran a cloth beneath the running water that emitted tiny puffs of steam.
He cleaned all traces of their lovemaking from his body and redressed himself. The motions made Shyla’s heart weep, for it meant he was going to leave, but she only watched without saying a word. Hold carried a clean cloth back to her and gently began to playfully wipe her face, making her laugh, before swiping it down her spent body. With deft strokes he cleansed himself from the junction between her thighs before drying her with a towel and wrapping her inside it.
Silently she followed him into the living room. It was clear that he didn’t know what to say. Leaning down to pick up a packed black duffel bag, Hold turned to her.
“I’m going to leave a key on the kitchen table in case you need it. Okay?” he asked, gazing into her eyes.
They weren’t the words she wanted or needed to hear and Shyla felt a sense of bereavement. They’d shared something incredibly special—she knew he felt it. But this was Hold.
“I know you deserve more,” Hold stated, pulling her closer to him. “I’m working on it.”
She nodded. He knew how she felt. That was all she could offer and she didn’t want to push him for something he wasn’t physically or mentally able to say. Hold kissed the tip of her nose before turning and walking out the door. This time he didn’t look back when he left and she didn’t call out to him, letting him go for now.
Hold rolled out the throttle as he speedily cruised down the road. His bike had always been a safe haven: the roar of the motor cleansed his soul while the wind blew all his sins to the four corners of the Earth. He leaned into a turn, letting the centrifugal force keep from laying the bike down, and propel him forward to Dawson’s Garage. Destiny waited on fucking no one, least of all him.
He’d let her down. It was plain as day what Shyla wanted to hear from him, but he hadn’t the balls to say it. Not when he’d lost so much the night before last: Carrie, Hound, and Sandman were all dead. Countless others had paid the price of crossing Ward over the years. Hels’ entire family had been wiped out by his parents alone. Damn, the bodies kept piling up.
The clubhouse came into view—where the fucked-up mess had taken place. Hold slowed his motorcycle. It’d been late when they’d finally finished thoroughly cleaning and the evidence buried six feet under was spread out in the woods. All the members had worked together in silence. No one spoke after Hold’s declaration. Only a handful had disappeared to whatever black hole Ward had crawled into to lick his wounds.
Last week they’d decided when to meet up to head out of town. It was listed as a scheduled club ride on the books and a reason to get out of town for the nosy old ladies. Of course Sage would know the truth, along with the ones who could be trusted. He’d told Shyla most of it, but only because she could handle club life. Hold knew she didn’t like it, but she listened, and she kept her mouth shut.
He came to a complete stop and shut the engine off. Nothing had changed, yet everything was different. His rage once again bloomed. As he removed his helmet, he grasped the sides, wanting to hurl it toward the ground. Several members nodded to him in the distance, but only one was brave enough to join him.
“What are you doin’ here?” Hold asked, staring at Badger. The anger inside of him didn’t dissipate, but steadily built.
“I never left,” Badger said, his eyes bloodshot and swollen. He had on the same clothing as two nights ago.
“What do you mean you never left? Go home, Badger,” he said, swinging his leg from the bike.
“I can’t leave Hound.”
Badger’s words, spoken aloud, sounded like a man who’d lost his best friend. It extinguished Hold’s anger, reminding him once again of the bone-numbing loss of losing Hound. Mikey and Hold had been the ones to dig out a hole in the northern lot and Badger carefully laid their friend in the ground before filling it once again. In several months, they’d dig him up and let his remains be found so they could rightfully bury him.
“Go home,” Hold ordered, patting Badger on the shoulder.
A loud whistle split the air. Hold turned to see Shady with two hands in his mouth, trying to get his attention. The prospect jogged over to meet him.
“Sorry, boss.” Shady said, giving Badger a weird look at his unkempt appearance. “I’ve got some bad news.”
“I’m not sure I can handle any more bad news,” he said honestly. “But hit me with it.”
“Mikey’s gone.”
“What do you mean Mikey’s gone?” he asked, surprise reshaping his expression.
“Gone… as in he took off yesterday. He called me this morning after talking to Ward, said he’d cleared it with the prez and wouldn’t be back for a while,” Shady said, nervously looking at Hold.
“You’re tellin’ me that he just up and left?” Hold didn’t get to continue questioning Shady because the front door opened and out walked Ward.
The current president of the Hell’s Highwaymen stood before him. He seemed to have aged overnight. It didn’t faze Hold in the least, for he hated the evil bastard. Two nights ago a man he’d loved and respected died while this piece of shit who didn’t give two damns about any of them still took in oxygen.
Ward nodded toward Hold. “Guess you heard ‘bout Mikey,” he said, acting as if nothing had happened between them.
“W
hat the hell is goin’ on, Ward?” Hold asked, glaring at the old man.
“Mikey said he couldn’t handle another day between us, son. He felt torn between love and duty. So he took off for a couple of days,” Ward explained, a small sinister smile playing on his lips.
Hearing Ward call him son made Hold want to fucking punch him in the face. “You let ‘em leave knowing we needed him for the run? Hell no!” he yelled, shaking his head. “Call Dmitry and tell him it’s off. It’s too dangerous.”
“Can’t do that. The MC needs the money and the Russians got to offload the guns. It doesn’t get jacked because we’ve got internal shit goin’ on,” Ward said, walking over to his own bike. He secured his backpack onto the motorcycle.
“So they’re clear on everything that’s gone down?” Hold asked, watching Ward glance from him to Badger.
“No. It’s club business,” Ward answered. “You got somethin’ to say, Badger, then say it.”
If looks could kill then Ward would be a damn zombie. Badger stepped forward, getting directly in Ward’s face.
“You killed him, you son of a bitch,” Badger said, his guttural tone warranting the chills down Hold’s back.
“I didn’t kill anyone. If I remember correctly Hound was there to fuckin’ blast me. Sandman pulled to protect his leader and your vice prez here retaliated without just cause. You don’t see me moping around for a dead man,” Ward said, not backing down.
Hold watched his friend reach for his piece and Hold stepped in to halt his movements by placing a hand over his. “Don’t,” he whispered, pleading with his eyes toward an enraged Badger until the other man nodded in agreement and backed away.
“I’ll tell ya, Holden, I want to get this shipment over and done with, and then we can decide about the club. Let’s pull all of our shit together for now,” Ward said, turning toward Hold.
He knew Ward was never going to change. The man was certainly not going to step down from being prez as long as he drew air.
“What’s goin’ on with you and Mike?” Hold needed to know what Ward knew about Mikey. “Him leavin’ sounds too damn fishy to me.”
“Whatever beef you think we got, Hold, it needs to stay between us. Mike gets that I’m in charge, where you need remindin’ from time to time. I think separating you boys for now will be just what I need.” Ward reached for his cigarette pack.
Hold didn’t miss what Ward said. He said just what I need instead of what the club needed. It infuriated Hold. And deep down where he’d never admit it to anyone, it saddened him. Family meant everything. It’s the reason why he’d killed, lied, stole, cheated, and even lost himself along the way.
“I can’t believe that fucker would cut and run on me,” Hold said, turning to direct his anger toward Badger. “After everything we’ve been through.”
“I’ll ride beside you, brother,” Badger said, speaking to Hold but staring at Ward. “I got your back.”
“Robsen is taking Sandman’s place until we vote in another sergeant,” Ward said, heading over to his bike. “We keep this friendly. You both hear me?”
“It’s not us you’ve ever had to worry ‘bout,” Badger answered. “But of course, you knew that already.”
“Enough,” Hold said, cutting off the conversation. Nothing was going to get resolved standing here all day. “If you’re ridin’ with me, get changed, and let’s get to burnin’ tires.”
Badger headed for the clubhouse. Ward went to stand beside his bike, shooting sideways glances at Hold every few minutes. There was nothing Hold would’ve liked more than to give him the middle finger; however, his mind was racing with possibilities and he’d only hours to figure out the outcome.
“Shady, gather the boys,” Hold said, turning toward the prospect. “We’re on the road in an hour.”
The group of Hell’s Highwaymen bikers cruised the back roads from Harmony down the coast to a small town outside of Naples. They each wore black cuts representing the three-piece patch that supposedly united them in all things. It wasn’t exactly peaceful, but the bikes burned up the sweet blacktop and the ride freed and soothed the soul. Well, all except for Shady. He followed behind them in the war wagon, pissed that he’d been chosen to drive the white delivery truck when Mikey went MIA. Badger rode stoically beside Hold, gripping his ape hangers. Hold never doubted that he’d always have his back.
Late in the evening, they pulled into a rundown motel on the outskirts of town. Its vacant sign tilted precociously on top of the motel, seeming to point to several plastic flamingos lying haphazardly on the front lawn. The shabby single-level pink stucco building, housed twenty rooms, situated side by side. They’d stayed at the roach coach plenty of times in the past since the location was prime, the drop site being only miles down the road at an abandoned wharf.
“Shady, go get our rooms,” Hold said, shutting the engine off and lowering the kickstand.
“What now?” Badger said, removing his helmet. He spoke low enough where Ward, who’d parked on the other side of the truck, couldn’t hear.
“Trust me and follow my lead,” Hold said, knowing he was asking a lot of the older man.
“What the hell is going on with Mikey?” Badger halted his questioning when Ward and Robsen headed their way.
“Lev will meet us in the morning around six a.m. I’ll call him tonight and make sure everything is in place,” Ward said, taking his sunglasses off and placing them on top of his head.
Hold nodded. The prospect came over and gave each of the men their room keys and the group disbanded. They’d stopped off earlier for dinner and everyone knew that going out and boozing the night before a run could cost someone his life. Badger and Hold were the last rooms at the end. They both unlocked their doors at the same time.
“You never answered me about Mike,” Badger said, turning his head to stare at Hold.
“What’s there to say? Brothers to the end, huh?” Hold said, not knowing how to answer Badger.
He watched Badger’s face crumple before him and instantly knew what had caused his friend pain. Hold slung his duffel bag to the ground before walking over to him.
“Damn, man, I’m sorry ‘bout Hound. It hasn’t set in for me yet.” His hand lifted to settle on his friend’s shoulder. “Everything is movin’ so fuckin’ fast. I’m just doin’ my best to hold on for the ride.”
The big man’s chest heaved. Badger bowed his head, the mental anguish visible for Hold to witness. They stood like that for several minutes until Badger lifted his weary eyes to Hold’s.
“Don’t give up on Mikey, Hold. Hound’s friendship and loyalty over the last thirty years meant more to me than the cut I have on. All brothers have shit go south from time to time,” Badger said, shaking his head. “Ward just forgot.”
“Forgot what?” he asked, curious at Badger’s statement.
“That brotherhood is what this club was truly about from the get-go. Not the green, or the guns, or the gear. A bunch of good ol’ boys who liked to ride motorcycles and wanted to start a business doin’ what they loved.” His eyes implored Hold to hear him out. “That was it.”
“Do you think it’s too late for him?” Hold asked, placing his hands on his hips.
“Ward or Mikey?” Badger asked, narrowing his stare at Hold.
“Ward.”
“Maybe. Lord knows I want to put a bullet between the bastard’s eyes. But I won’t.” He stood back from Hold, taking a deep breath. “You’ve pretty much stripped him of over half his devout followers.”
“He did that to himself by killin’ Carrie,” Hold said, crossing his arms.
“True dat. The question is how far do ya plan on takin’ this? Because I’ll follow you, Hold. Straight to hell, if that’s what it takes.”
“I’m hoping not to go that far. I’ve already been there and it ain’t all it’s cracked up to be,” he answered, smiling at his friend.
“I know you’ve got something cookin’ in that fucked-up brain of yours. Just make sure
you can live with whatever it is. Don’t start this new chapter for the Hell’s Highwaymen and you with anything hangin’ over your head,” Badger said, patting Hold on the arm. “Otherwise, we’ll be tradin’ one homicidal maniac for another.”
With those last words, he walked into his room and shut the door. Hold paused for a minute before returning to his own. He’d questioned his sanity and those around him many times over the past several months, but sometimes you have to sacrifice yourself to the craziness to win. There were many final outcomes that were possible for tomorrow, but which one could he live with? He guessed that was the question.
Hold thought about texting Shyla, but what would he say? The thoughts in his head couldn’t slow down enough to share, and he wasn’t ready to do so anyway. He also wasn’t the type to have a conversation by cell, especially a short one to say he was fine, because he sure as shit wasn’t.
There was, however, one phone call he had to make. It wasn’t going to be easy, and he had to trust the one woman who’d let him down more than any other. Hold scrolled through his saved numbers until he found hers and he pressed the call button. The phone rang three times before she answered.
“Hello?”
“Mom, we need to talk.”
“Damn, that breeze feels good,” Badger said, sitting on his bike beside Hold.
It was early enough in the morning that a soft wind carried over the calm water onto the deserted wharf, a slight fog drifting with it to cover most of the ground. A hesitant tension wafted among the men who waited patiently in the mist. No one, other than Badger, had spoken since they arrived.
A warehouse sat empty on a level quayside area to their right. The small ship had already been moored to offload oversized wooden boxes carrying the illegal guns. Hold glanced inconspicuously around to see if he could find any of the feds Luke had warned him about. He’d thought a lot over the last several weeks about what to do, not really knowing what would happen until he arrived today. It was a gamble he’d have to leave to chance.
