He poured more of the liquor into his coffee.
I took the newspaper as I sat down, a smart move, because as soon as I read the headline, “Blessed Bastard gang leader shot and killed in roadside ambush,” the world spun.
Quickly scanning, I spotted the words, “On the way to The Long Road Diner,” and stopped.
My eyes burned and I blinked fast, hoping they wouldn’t form tears. I kept reading, trying to read fast but still trying to comprehend.
“The Blessed Bastards, a known motorcycle group, were attacked on their way to The Long Road Diner Wednesday. Early in the morning, at eight thirty a.m., they were ambushed, their caravan riddled with bullets. The President, known as King, was pronounced dead at the scene.”
There was an accompanying photo. His motorcycle resting on its side, a sin to The Bastards, a streak of blood led from the bike’s bars to jagged sprouts of yucca trees in the distance, not far from the spot of my breakdown.
Francis scratched his thinning, wispy hair. His eyes were heavy, something unseen in his diner, like the place actually transferred its bustling energy to him.
I kept reading. It was a long article, but most of it detailed The Bastards and another motorcycle gang, The Defilers, who were rumored to be involved.
Throwing down the paper, I told Francis I needed to leave.
“You’re going to them?”
I tied my apron tighter like getting into my superhero suit. Flying at the speed of light would be helpful.
“If they need anything, I’m here as always.”
“I’ll let you know,” I shouted back to him, then threw open the door, breezing past the customer who was asking why the diner wasn’t open, but I wasn’t listening. My head was dull. But my feet were fast. Getting into my car, I ripped my apron free and popped a few buttons in my long-sleeved white blouse.
Rolling up my sleeves on the highway, the bloody newspaper page kept flashing in my mind, but I kept a steady foot on the gas, a steady grip on the wheel. When I got to the compound sitting in the middle of nowhere, the gates guarded like a maximum-security prison, I slunk down in my seat, preparing for the worst. They would be on high alert from the ambush. Not wanting to get guns pulled on me, I pulled off to the side of the road about a quarter mile from the gates.
Pledges packed high firepower not fifteen feet away. If they wanted to, I was sure they could take me out from where I stood. Breath sucked from my lungs, the dullness in my head suddenly lifted. In its place came a throbbing, urgent call to duck and run. I got out of my car, threw my arms into the air, and hoped for the best.
Red would kill me for putting myself in danger. If he was safe. I hoped he wouldn’t toss me away. Those old ladies had been kind to me. They treated me like one of their own when they didn’t have to. They could’ve fed me to the wolves, but they brought me into their tight circle. Now Joy would be broken, and I needed to help her, to try to repay her back somehow.
“Stay there,” someone shouted from the gate.
“Keep your arms in the air. Don’t move,” another voice shouted.
“I’m a friend,” I yelled back, the words not sounding right at all.
They crept forward with their rifles pointed at me.
“Arms above your head. On your knees,” they barked.
Shit just got real. I dropped to my knees and threw my arms back. With a lump in my throat, I still managed to unwaveringly say, “I’m a friend. I’m here to make sure Red’s all right.”
The three grinned to one another. They wore heavy armor, looking like a SWAT team. They even had radios strapped to their hips.
“Think we should call this in?” one asked.
He elbowed his brother in the rib. I flinched. “Call it in? No. I’m not calling this in. Get her inside first.”
They grimaced. I grimaced back.
“Jesus, get her up and put those guns away,” I heard, and I quirked my head up to see Red approaching, storming through the sandy rocks in his sexy boots. His eyes were heavy, his forehead cracked with creases, wearing a permanent scowl.
Holding a hand out for me to take, he lifted me onto my feet, but that was the extent of his cordiality. I dusted off my thighs. He forced the others back with a wave of his hands to the side, like treading water.
“Why are you here?”
I dropped my hands, which instinctively clutched my sides, wanting to curl up and hide from Red’s wrath. He was quite scary when he was angry.
“Go,” he said to the pledges. They scattered.
“I’m sorry about what happened.”
His lips curved into a smug, hateful look. Did he truly hate me?
“Thanks.” Not missing a beat, he asked, “Is that it?”
I strained a step closer. “Can you give me a chance?”
“What for? You’ve already shown that you don’t want anything to do with me. The decision has already been made.”
“Don’t say that, Red. I’m sorry. I needed to make sure you were okay.”
“You’re not made for this life,” he said, a small, confident smirk growing like he was one-upping me. A part of me hated him for it, a part of me wanted to leap at him and tear him apart. But I knew if he put his hands on me, touched me again, I would instantly be tamed, so I remained there, trying my best not to be turned away.
“Don’t make me go back. I came all this way. I had guns pointed at me.”
In his jacket and thin, white t-shirt, showing off his exquisitely sculpted chest, his bronzed eyes focusing like he was drawing in a cage around me, he drew closer, winding me so tight I thought I would snap. Was there any sign of compassion behind those cruel eyes? I didn’t recognize this Red. He seemed like a different person than the one who shared his feelings on Devil’s Peak. Was this Red capable of emotion?
“I saw your message,” he said dryly.
“You did?” A smile began to grow.
“Do you think a silly little message is going to change anything? You made your choice and I made mine. I’ve determined you’re not capable of being an old lady, let alone a whore in this camp.”
The smile was stomped to mud. The blow struck me and I turned my cheek. Pain wormed its way inside me then came spilling out as he turned his back, “You can turn me away, but don’t stop me from helping the girls. They could use my help.”
He dug his heels in. “You come through these gates, I’m not going to be able to protect you. You’re not mine. You made that perfectly clear.”
“Can we start over?”
He crossed his massive arms and shook his head.
“No can do, Ash. I’m not going for that bullshit.”
“But you’ll let me in?”
Bowing, Red held his open palm toward the gates. “I’m letting you in, but like I said, it’s your decision, and I’m not going to be there to save you.”
I brushed past him, telling him, “I’ll take care of myself here on out. Where can I find the girls?”
Leaving Red behind, groaning and mumbling to himself as he stomped off through the yard, I went inside the apartment building. The front desk and lounge were empty, creating the illusion of a brand hotel that didn’t get much business.
I heard banging upstairs followed by muddled voices. On the second floor, I found the same old ladies plus a few new faces huddled around the last door. I could guess who was on the other side, King’s old lady, Joy.
“Oh, you’re here,” Ema said. She took me in her arms and squeezed me against her gracious bosom. I was glad to come out of it alive.
“Glad to see you back,” Roxy said, and she punched me in the shoulder. It kind of hurt, but I was glad to see her as well. Her hug after her punch helped me ignore the pain.
With her deep, raspy voice, Ema told the ladies, “This is Ash everyone. Say hello.”
They craned their necks at me, question marks popping above their heads, and I knew why. Ema hadn’t told them who I was with.
“We can’t get her out of there,” Rox
y whispered, “she locked herself in. She won’t listen to any of us.”
“We’re afraid she might do something serious. Like kill herself,” Ema whispered, much too loud.
Ema banged on the door again.
“Wait,” Joy said from inside. Springs creaked followed by the sound of hurried footsteps.
“Is that Ashley?”
I couldn’t remember the last time someone called me Ashley. Dumbfounded, they stared at me. I meekly replied, “Yes.”
“I want her in here,” Joy said from the other side. The door flung open. Before anyone could react, Joy pulled me inside and slammed the door. She locked it behind her as the girls groaned.
The room was a mess, a burial ground for used tissues. It was a much bigger apartment than Red’s. Joy dropped onto the sheets covered with old photos, a photo album picked apart and plucked one by one, each petal agonized over until the flower wilted on the bed Joy and King used to share.
She would kill herself with tears by going through all of those memories. Joy, even at that moment, commanded an air of respect. Her hair might have been frizzled and unkempt. Her makeup might have been smeared, giving her raccoon eyes, but she still held herself firmly and faced me dead on.
“Ashley, I’m glad you came,” she said with a squeeze. Another woman with a huge bust who almost smothered me. “It’s so good to see you.”
“Of course. I’m so sorry.”
I sat on the bed next to her. She had to push away the photos for me.
“Sorry, move it out of the way. I was just looking at all the old pictures.” As soon as she said this, a sob caught in her throat. She paused for a moment, then bawled into her hands.
I wrapped my arms around her and let her cry onto my shoulder. The great old lady’s tears kept flowing, shaking the both of us in their fury.
“I can’t believe he’s gone. I still don’t want to believe it.”
There I was, an undercover agent, trying to comfort the president’s old lady. If she knew who I was, she would be repulsed, but I thought about Red, about how I wanted to bawl only thinking about him gone.
One day, he’s full of life on the back of his bike, telling you there’s no chance of trouble, the next...gone.
“We’re here. All your sisters are here.”
She wiped away a tear. Trembling, a smile shook free of her curled lips. “You’re not even a sister yet, but you talk like one. I like you, Ash. I called you in here because I can’t face them. We might have just met, but you’re easy to trust. I don’t think you would have it in you to speak behind my back. They can’t see me weak.”
Tears rolled absentmindedly down her cheeks. My fingers itched to reach out and wipe them.
“It’s all right,” I said, “You’re not super woman. No matter who you are, you’ve got to be sad at this moment otherwise you wouldn’t be human. King, he was a tough guy, but he was kind too, wasn’t he? If he lost you, I would expect that he would react the same way.”
“Oh, he would,” she said, balling her eyes into my chest again, but not a torrential downpour like last time. She pulled back, wiped her nose, and let some happiness shine, a small break in the storm.
“I’m sure after he was done breaking some skulls and getting pissed, he’d have a good cry.”
“Everyone here respects you. Seeing you cry isn’t going to make them think you’re weak. They want to help you. That’s what this sisterhood should be about, right? I don’t want to get too sentimental on you, but if you can’t trust them, who can you trust?”
“You’re right. I should let them in.”
“I understand,” I said, seeing her pick up a picture of King, still big, but leaner, standing next to his father in an army uniform. They both held The Blessed Bastards’ flag, and both held themselves high and proud.
She held my hand, her cold fingers wrapping around mine, thawing hers. “I don’t know what I’m more of...sad, angry, frustrated. It’s all too much. One second I want to go out there and grab a gun, the next I want to shove my head in these pillows, throw off my jacket, and curse the day I ever wore it. These colors took him from me.”
With a deflating sigh, she rearranged the sprawl of pictures before us.
“He was a good man. The best. Makes me wonder what I’m going to do without him.”
“Everyone will help you. You have a lot of friends who want to help.”
“King wasn’t much for funerals. He said all he wanted was a good barbecue, a lot of beer, and a good time. He wanted his funeral to be how he lived.”
After another sigh, she said defiantly with the last tears drying up, “I’m ready for the beer and the barbeque. Having a good time might be off the list.”
I held my hand out. She took it. Pride swelled in my chest.
“You’re going to make one hell of an old lady. I can tell already,” she told me.
I didn’t say anything as we marched to the door.
She could hate me later.
Right now, she needed a shoulder to cry on. I would gladly lend mine.
* * *
Red
The casket had to be closed. Dressed in our jackets, most of us already plastered, the priest read from the good book. It was still hard to believe that King was inside of that box. He seemed too important to ever leave.
I kept my eyes lowered out of respect. It was fucking painful to look at my brothers and their old ladies who were hurting. My eyes would furtively glance at Ash, tucked behind everyone else in the corner of the meticulously gardened lawn. In her black curve-hugging dress, she looked dangerously beautiful. I couldn’t wait to rip it off her and fuck her until I felt better.
But that couldn’t happen. I had to remind myself that we weren’t fucking. It was over. I thought about what would happen if someone tried to talk to her, if Lee tried to slap her ass again or something more. I said I wouldn’t step in, but maybe I would want to out of jealousy.
She played the part of old lady well enough, but that was all it was, a part. Sooner or later she would understand that she couldn’t hang around this place like it was a social club.
Fuck, she looked pretty. Her eyes, full of pain, over that man she hardly knew. I wanted to make her feel better. I got this terrible need to try to comfort her. All of my senses were heightened, my muscles pumping, wanting to reach out and walk toward her.
Lifting that dress over her ass and being inside her would definitely comfort me as well.
My attention snapped back to the grim reality before me. Joy threw herself off her seat and at the priest, who droned on his priestly words, but no one was really listening, at least I wasn’t, and it looked like Joy didn’t care either.
“That’s enough. Start the music,” she screamed.
The priest peered down at the book, ran his finger over the passage and read faster.
“We now send King Jr.—”
Some Stones song kicked in, drowning out all the sorry tears. An absurd laugh escaped me. That was how King would’ve wanted it, some badass song kicking in as he was about to be lowered down to the worms. Joy took the Bastards’ flag, and along with Boots, they both laid it on top of his casket.
Making the sign of the cross, the priest finished, removing himself to the outer circle to watch as King descended into his final resting place. Joy slumped back into the arms of her friends. Tears erupted once the casket lowered.
I had to wipe my eye to stop the tears from rolling down. Holding my head high, I clasped my hands and looked at all the people who loved him, who would die for him. King was leaving the world like we all wished we could.
When the song ended, and the casket stopped, there was an outburst of weeping. The song helped make it better before, but now the emptiness was everywhere, surrounding us all. With King gone, I looked to what was next. Action. Revenge.
Boots would’ve killed me to think of it. King too if he was still alive. Orders were to hold off on retribution for after the funeral. Don’t even think about it.
Don’t even think a word of it in your head. Boots meant it. Pay your respects first, then deliver them to The Defilers after.
We still needed to party, like King asked us to.
Except nobody really looked like they were in the partying mood at the moment.
But I could hear King scolding me in the back of my mind. I would miss the old man. I still couldn’t believe he was gone.
Lee, stalking the outside of the gate, spoke into his walkie-talkie, communicating with the others on security.
Boots was right. We all needed to kick back. There would be time for revenge later.
When I turned back to check on Ash, she was gone. I headed back to the bikes. I would see her back at the compound, I hoped. It disgusted me that I hoped that.
The girl had really gotten into my head. In a bad way.
7
In true Bastard fashion, we all went back to the bar to share a drink and gorge ourselves with as much food as humanly possible. The girls were busy in the kitchen with Grimes, who offered his cooking services. He was one hell of a cook. I could attest to that, having tried many of his signature wings. Apart from King, Grimes was probably the most important to the clan, just for those wings.
I sat in one of the booths, liking what I saw, the absence of the hanger-ons much appreciated. Old ladies attended to everyone, along with some of the guys acting as bartenders for extra help. They were all dressed in black for the funeral. Not much of a change. Black was our color.
I sat in a booth with my brother, Cole, and Ramos, but my attention was elsewhere. Ash was somewhere. It didn’t feel right to let her out of my sight as I simply sat there and waited in a booth like a chump. Forget the food they were cooking up, I wanted to sink my teeth into those tender curves sensually riding her black dress. Big, sparkling earrings, and a fancy white necklace, her cleavage was absurd, her breasts pressed together, trying to force their way free of that hot plunging neck line.
I wanted to run in and stick my dick between those tits. Explode all over her pretty neck.
Fuck, where was she?
Ash was too much of a distraction. This night was supposed to be about remembering King, but then I realized that King would probably want me to be happy and stick my dick in her to forget all of the bullshit between us. King couldn’t stand bullshit. Little details weren’t important. Big picture. That’s what mattered. I could learn a lot from that.
In Bed With The Outlaw Page 10
