Midnight Desire: A Midnight Riders Motorcycle Club Romance Part 1

by Olivia Thorne

  I did a little more probing and learned that the voluntary manslaughter charge had been a plea deal. The original charge was second-degree murder.

  Holy shit.

  That was 20 years ago. He’d been out for the last 15… and interestingly enough, except for a few assault charges, had kept his nose clean.

  My blood ran cold as I looked at a mug shot of Lou, twenty years younger, staring at the camera with a smirk.

  Like, You’ll never guess what I got away with.

  Though it had happened just a year ago, I wondered if it could include killing a young woman with a butterfly tattoo.

  I had to shut off the computer, I got so sick to my stomach.

  20

  My car was still at the Seven Veils since Jack had dropped me off at my motel. After consulting the city’s bus schedule on the internet – which took a PhD to decipher – I caught a ride to work at 7PM.

  Jack called me on the way.

  “So – ready for Round Two?”

  I smiled; I couldn’t help myself. “You’re a very persistent man.”

  “I am. But that’s not an answer.”

  “I have to work tonight.”

  “No rest for the wicked, eh?”

  “I’m weary, not wicked.”

  “That’s not what I heard.”

  “Whatever, Mr. TKO.”

  “I really like how you’re mentally preparing yourself for the third round.”

  “What, when I ‘go down’?” I asked sarcastically.

  Damn it, I shouldn’t have said that. Now I was imagining myself on a bed, his naked, muscular body beside me. I pictured myself reaching down and encircling his hard, thick cock with my hand, angling it upwards, and slowly lowering my wet, open mouth around his –

  Apparently somebody else was imagining something similar.

  “Mmmm… wait… just let me savor the way you said that…”

  “I’m hanging up, Mr. Pervert,” I threatened, not meaning a word of it.

  “Hey, it’s not MY fault you have a voice made for sex.”

  He thought I had a voice made for sex?

  His voice was sex. It made me wet just to hear it.

  Not that I was about to tell him that.

  “Aural sex?” I suggested.

  “Okay, now I REALLY like your mental preparation.”

  “AURAL, not ‘oral.’ A, U, R, A, L,” I spelled out. “You know… because I have a VOICE made for sex?”

  “Was that a pun? Or an attempt at one, anyway?”

  “You’re very… observant,” I said, lingering on the last word.

  He laughed. “I knew you liked my sense of humor.”

  “Actually, I like mocking your sense of humor.”

  “Laughing at, laughing with, laughing near… close enough for me.”

  I smiled. “I’m getting off now.”

  “Aha… enjoying the aural sex that much, are you?”

  “I’m getting off the BUS now.”

  “You took the bus to work?”

  “Yeah, so?” I said as I stepped off onto the sidewalk.

  “You should have called me. I would have given you a lift.”

  “That’s sweet, but I can take care of myself.”

  “So I’ve noticed. But maybe you should let other people take care of you once in awhile.”

  “Not necessary.”

  “Okay, maybe you should let other people do something nice for you once in awhile.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Like, say… give you aural sex.”

  I got a little bit wetter.

  Not that I was going to tell him that, either.

  “Eh… I’ve heard better,” I said in a deadpan voice.

  He burst out laughing. “Fiona, I think you might just be the woman of my dreams.”

  Little did he know, he literally was the man of my dreams – last night, anyway.

  I was going to keep that one to myself, too.

  “I’m the woman of a lot of men’s dreams.”

  “And so modest about it.”

  “Just following your oh-so-modest lead.”

  He chuckled. “Well, follow my lead and get ready for Round Two. I’ll see you at the club tonight at closing time.”

  I sighed. “Jack – ”

  “Bye.”

  Click.

  21

  The club was slow until 10PM when the Midnight Riders crew came in. Same routine as the night before: free shots, strippers crawling all over them, lots of general rowdiness.

  I recognized a few of them from last night, including Eddie, the guy with the mustache who had bitched about the liquor.

  Benjy was with them, too. He came over and talked to Shelley every 15 minutes like clockwork.

  Lou made the rounds, glad-handing the troops and playing the charming devil.

  I remembered his mug shot from 20 years ago and thought about how apt that ‘devil’ metaphor actually was.

  But as soon as I thought of ‘metaphor’ – If you don’t know what a metaphor is, that’s okay, but… you really should read more – I thought of Jack, and my body was on fire.

  I was nervous and turned on and conflicted and excited, all at the same time. The turned-on part was obvious. The nervous part was because I wasn’t sure I could hold out again. He just had this… mojo, for lack of a better word. This sexual power that emanated from him like heat.

  I wanted to warm myself against that fire all night long.

  And yet… Ali. The photo album. The whole reason I’d come to town.

  That was the conflicted part.

  The excitement… that was because, deep down… I knew I didn’t even want to hold out until Round Three.

  So I kept watching the door nervously, waiting for him to walk in – even hours before he was due.

  “Honey, you’re lookin’ at the front door like a preacher’s daughter waitin’ for the travelin’ salesman,” Shelley chirped.

  “I’m – I’m expecting somebody,” I stammered.

  “Uh-huh. Didn’t get enough last night, huh?” she teased me.

  I blushed a little, and was happy for the strip club’s dim lighting. “Nothing happened.”

  “Yeah, well, the way you’re lookin’, I wouldn’t bet on nothin’ happenin’ again,” she laughed.

  I consciously stopped watching the door after that.

  Arlene was pissy and territorial again. I would have gotten up in her face if I was just there to make rent money, but I actually wanted the chance to do recon, so I stuck to serving the Midnight Riders their whiskey and beers.

  The strippers gradually warmed to me, though. They started chatting me and Shelley up at the bar when they tired of approaching potential victims (ahem, excuse me, ‘customers’). When Benjy came over and started talking to Shelley, the dancers turned all of their attention on me.

  “Hey new girl, how you like it here?”

  “Hey new girl, you should strip – you got the body for it.”

  “Hey new girl, gimme a diet Coke.”

  If I ever did decide to strip, I think my stripper name would be New Girl.

  22

  Jack walked in about 1AM. My heart leapt in my throat the instant I saw him.

  Another person was with him: the blond mechanic from the diner, except now he was wearing motorcycle leathers and jeans. He looked gorgeous, but still had the same stoic expression on his face as the day before.

  “Hey,” Jack said with a grin as he approached me.

  “Hey yourself,” I said, staying as cool as possible on the outside to disguise the raging fire I felt inside.

  The blond guy completely ignored me. “You want anything to drink?” he asked his boss.

  “Naw, I’m good,” Jack said.

  “I’ll get it for you. What do you want?” I asked the blond – partially to let me break away and avoid being alone with Jack, since I didn’t entirely trust myself with him.

  The blond glanced over at me. “I’ll go to the bar,”
he said dismissively.

  Okay, now I was getting annoyed. “It’s my job. What do you want?”

  “To go to the bar,” he said as he brushed past me.

  I turned and watched him walk away. “Wow. What a charmer.”

  Jack laughed. “Kade’s just a man of few words.”

  “And none of them even remotely polite.”

  “Look at you. I never figured you for Miss Manners.”

  Now I scowled at Jack. “You’re not doing real well on Round Two, bub.”

  He grinned. “That’s okay. Nothing really good happens till Round Three, anyway.”

  I was about to come back with a quip about how nothing was going to happen at all when Lou walked up.

  “Are you poaching my staff again?” he asked Jack in mock exasperation.

  “What can I say? You hire outstanding talent.”

  “Yeah, she just never seems to work when you’re around.”

  “I am a hell of a distraction…”

  “Ain’t that the truth.”

  “I do still have an hour till closing,” I said apologetically. “I probably should get back to work.”

  Jack looked at me with a smile and a raised eyebrow; Lou looked at me like I was a dumbass.

  My boss shook his head. “First thing you need to do, darlin’, is learn when I’m fuckin’ jokin’.”

  “And how do I learn that?”

  “Stick around till I’m not joking. Then you’ll be able to tell the fuckin’ difference. Go on, get out of here.”

  He walked off, leaving me alone with Jack and an uncomfortable silence.

  “Well? You coming or not?” he asked.

  My heart was beating hard in my chest.

  “Just let me close out my tabs,” I said, and turned back to the bar.

  23

  We walked out to the parking lot.

  There was his bike…

  …which would lead to a ride to his house…

  …which would lead to a drink…

  …which would lead to something else.

  A chain reaction of smaller events that would culminate in an avalanche.

  The only way I could see to avoid it was to not get on the bike in the first place.

  “You sure are quiet,” Jack said as he grabbed his helmet off the seat.

  “I need to tell you something,” I said, my breath tight in my chest.

  “Uh oh,” he joked. “Is this where you tell me you’ve got a psychopathic ex?”

  I’m pretty sure you could handle him if I did, I thought.

  What do I say?

  …how about the truth?

  “I lost somebody back when I was in LA,” I said.

  He put the helmet gently down on the seat, but never broke eye contact with me. “Lost somebody… like a boyfriend?”

  “A cousin. We were really close.”

  “Lost, as in…?”

  “She died.”

  He nodded slowly. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “I, uh… I moved here to get away from all those memories.”

  It was a lie, but a convenient one for my purposes.

  “I can understand that,” Jack said.

  “So, I’m… I’m just starting over again. In a way.”

  “I can understand that, too.”

  “So… this is going really fast for me.”

  He walked around the bike and stood directly in front of me.

  My heart was hammering a thousand miles an hour as his eyes looked deep into mine.

  “This cousin… what do you think she would say to you if she could come back and tell you just one thing?”

  The name of the man who killed her.

  But I couldn’t say that.

  “I don’t know,” I murmured.

  “Well… I don’t know either,” he said with a gentle smile. “But I’ve lost a lot of people over the years, too. Guys I’ve looked up to… guys who were like brothers to me. I don’t know what they’d say to me, exactly, but I learned something from losing them. If I checked out and I got the chance to come back – just for a minute – you know what I’d say to the people I loved most?”

  I felt hypnotized. Mesmerized.

  “…what?”

  His voice lowered to just above a whisper. “I’d say, ‘This is it. This is all you’ve got. Today. This minute. Nothing else matters. Live your life and love every second of it, and don’t worry about me. Don’t look back. Live life to the fullest, ‘cause when it’s all over, the only regrets you’ll have are the ones where you didn’t take every single shot at happiness you could.’”

  My breath caught in my throat. I couldn’t tear myself away from his eyes.

  And then he stepped forward and kissed me.

  It was electric. Like a power greater than me swept me up in its wake. His lips on mine… soft yet forceful, sweet but aggressive. My head was lighter than air; I could feel my body on fire, and the only thing that could quench it was his tongue. I kissed him back, hard, and opened my mouth to him – felt him slip inside me as his arms encircled me, crushing me against his rock-hard body –

  And then, like a subliminal frame in the movie of my mind, a single image of Ali, seven years old. Young and sweet and alive.

  I broke away and lowered my head against Jack’s chest.

  “I can’t,” I whispered. “I’m sorry.”

  He spoke to me, and I felt the rumble of his words more than heard them – felt them reverberating from his chest into my body. “You’re here. She’s not. I’m sorry she’s not, but do you really think she’d begrudge you the chance to go on living? To be happy?”

  But I’m not here to go on living or be happy.

  I’m here to find the man who took that away from her.

  I didn’t answer.

  After a full minute of silence, he finally kissed the top of my head and took his arms away from me.

  I immediately felt cold and alone, even though the air was warm.

  He walked over to his bike and got on.

  “When you change your mind… I’ll be around,” he said gently.

  Then he started up the engine.

  Seconds later, he was gone.

  24

  Back in my motel room, I opened the photo album, my hands shaking.

  I wasn’t crying, exactly, but it was taking everything I had in me not to.

  I looked at her photographs. Back when we were infants and our mothers held us next to each other for the camera. We were smiling at each other even then.

  There we were at five, in pigtails and pink overalls, best friends for life.

  Another photo when we were thirteen. I remembered the first time I had alcohol; it was a bottle of Boone’s Farm she’d gotten from an older boy she was seeing.

  My first kiss, at fourteen, was with a guy she’d introduced me to. It was a good first kiss, too. One I still remembered.

  There she was at fifteen, tattooed and pierced, already a wild child, already starting down a path of self-destruction.

  I looked at her and cried. Wanted to reach out to her, reach back through time, and pull her away from the edge of the abyss.

  But you know what?

  I realized that, even if I could have gone back in time, she would have ignored my warnings.

  She was one of those souls that flies too close to the sun.

  A moth to the flame, no matter how hot it burned.

  Too busy living to worry about dying.

  It didn’t end well for her…

  …but that didn’t mean that stopping myself from living would end well for me, either.

  What would she say if she could come back to me, just for a moment?

  I knew exactly what she’d say.

  She’d say, Go for it.

  So I did.

  25

  It took me forever to find the house. Or at least it seemed that way as I crawled down back streets in the hills, trying to find landmarks in the dark.

  It gave me time to
justify in my head what I was doing, though.

  This is actually good, because he’s the head of the Midnight Riders.

  If I get close to him, I can get better access.

  I can find out more information by being with him than by staying away from him.

  I can use this to find out who killed her.

  I realize that sounds really skanky – telling myself to sleep with a guy so I could uncover more clues about Ali’s death.

  But understand that I was basically just rationalizing something that I really, deeply, passionately wanted to do.

  I just couldn’t admit that to myself.

  Not yet.

  I finally found his house. Knew it was his from the Ford truck and the Harley out front.

  I parked my car, walked up to the front door, and tried the doorbell. I couldn’t hear it inside, so I knocked on the door. Loud.

  There wasn’t an answer at first. I thought about turning around… then decided, Fuck it, I’ve come this far, and knocked again even harder.

  Finally the porch light turned on, the door opened, and there he stood, squinting at me sleepily.

  He was wearing black boxers – and nothing else.

  His muscles were incredible. His pecs and abs looked like they were carved out of oak; they actually cast shadows from the porch light across his bronzed skin.

  His biceps were huge, his forearms massive; his shoulders were broad and powerful.

  There were tattoos across his upper body – a Midnight Riders insignia with the skull, guns, and Bowie knife most prominent among them.

  There were scars there, too, lighter colored against his skin. Several long, thin lines, presumably from knives – and a couple that were round and slightly raised, with depressions in the center. Bullet wounds, long since healed.

  I got a good look at his lower body, too.

  His calves were massive and powerful; his thighs strained against the material of his boxers.

  Something else strained against the material, too. Something that hung thick and long off to one side of the center seam.