by Davida Lynn
She smiled. “I heard about your little business deal. Something tells me, though, that it’s not the same deal you want anymore.”
With tear-stained cheeks, I looked up to meet her eyes. She had the same pale blues as her brother. They could see through me just as easily, too. I nodded. Again, Raven hugged me.
My body shook with each sob, and she whispered, “You’re safe now. We’re going to take care of you, and we’re going to take care of things here.”
I didn’t want to know what she meant by that, but before she had time to explain, I heard Zane coming back into Jason’s house. He stepped through the doorway, and my heart beat so hard I was sure Raven could feel it.
His chest was heaving as he stood at the threshold. The light bathed him, making his muscles look even bigger. I saw cuts on his cheek and nose, and his knuckles looked worse than Raven’s. His face was flush, blood dripped down it, and he had a painful smile on his face. Zane was looking at me with love in his eyes.
I found the strength to stand. The pain of my wrists and my cheek vanished. I stood up, unaware that I was only wearing a t-shirt. I didn't care about any of it. I needed to wrap my arms around Zane’s body and beg forgiveness.
Raven slid to the side as I stepped past her. When I threw my arms around him, I heard the First Aid kit drop to the floor. Zane picked me up. He made me feel like a feather, caught beautifully in the breeze. I heard him sigh.
“Tanner, I’m so, so sorry. I was such an idiot. I know that—”
He cut me off with a simple whisper. “Shh. Call me Zane.”
I cried into his shoulder, but pulled back and managed a smile. “Only if you call me Jenny.”
He laughed. It was the first time I’d heard it from him. Had I broken through the walls that he’d build up? Had I broken through the tough biker shell and found the real person beneath?
He kissed me, reminding me of the pain Jason had caused my cheek. “Let’s get you cleaned up, Jenny.”
Zane lowered me to the floor, and I put my clothes back on. Before I could step through the door, I froze. “What about Jason?”
“Don't worry about him.” Zane’s hand was at my shoulder. “Raven and I will take care of everything here.”
I turned my face up to his. “What do you mean? What are you going to do?” I didn’t know what Zane was capable of, but after hearing Jason read his list of previous charges, I didn’t think there was anything he wouldn’t do.
“Are you scared?” Zane held my chin in his hand. He into my eyes, searching for the truth.
I thought about the question. I thought about how scared I had felt since things with Jason went downhill. It was a constant fear just beneath my skin. It was a constant wondering if he was out there, watching me and waiting for the moment to strike.
I tried to think about the first moment I didn’t feel scared. It was waking up in Zane’s bed after my panic attack. If it hadn’t been for my freak out seeing Raven in his house, it would have been picture perfect.
Whatever was going to happen with Jason, I needed the fear to end. I didn't care how it ended, as long as it was gone.
He asked again, “Are you scared of what might happen, Jenny?”
I shook my head. “Do what you need to do.” I knew those words had incredible weight. I knew it had the potential to mean life or death. My choice meant life or death for me, too.
“Then you go. Take the Mustang and head back to my place. We’ll be close behind you. Tomorrow, we’re all going to the clubhouse. Some things need to be hashed out.” Zane ushered me through the bedroom door into the hallway. I obeyed.
Drywall was smashed in and chunks lay on the floor along with dust. Broken glass littered the floor, along with red dots of blood. A floor lamp in the living room was leaning in the corner, casting an eerie glow. It highlighted more caved in drywall and more tilted frames with shattered glass.
Behind the sofa, two legs stuck out, turned to the side. I knew it was Jason, and I knew I shouldn’t look, but I had to. I had to see his face. Something told me he would be out cold, but if he wasn’t I wanted him to see that I was walking away for good.
Zane was trying to walk me past Jason, but I stopped and turned. “No, I have to see.”
He nodded, letting go of my arm. Zane understood what I needed. “Go for it, but we don’t have much time.”
I walked forward and saw Jason’s body lying between the coffee table and the couch. His face was almost unrecognizable. Zane—and maybe Raven—had beaten Jason within inches of his life. One of his eyes was swollen shut, and I could see broken teeth inside his open mouth. I was sure there were some broken bones that I couldn’t see.
If he was conscious, it was barely. He was breathing, letting out a faint groan with each exhalation. One of his hands swayed above his chest. Overall, he looked like a zombie about to rise. I turned away. I’d seen enough.
Outside, Zane leaned against his Mustang, “Head back to my place. Wait there ‘til we get back. From there, we’re going to lay low until we head to the club.”
“The Cherry Stem?” I was trying to hang onto his words, but I was still disoriented.
“The Sons’ club. It’s a bar outside of town. We’re gonna need them, you and me.”
I nodded, knowing I wasn’t going to get any more information from him about it. Before I could open the door, he grabbed me, pulling my lips to his. Zane’s kiss was rejuvenating. It brought me back from the dead.
I threw my arms around his neck, kissing away every bit of pain I’d caused myself. If I had just called him or stopped in and asked, everything would have been explained away.
“I’m so sorry. I shouldn't have come. I should have just stopped in that night. I fucked everything up, Zane. Everything.”
He pulled me away, holding my face in his strong hands, “Hey, hey. This ain’t your fault, and I don't want you to think that it is. We both know the business arrangement was bullshit. We were both protecting ourselves. Well, I’m not out to protect myself anymore. I’m out to protect you.” He looked back to Jason’s home. “Now, head out so Raven and I can take care of this.”
I knew there wasn’t anything left to say. I nodded and opened the door to the classic car. He stood in Jason’s driveway as I backed out. I had no idea what would happen after I left, but I felt peace after months of anything but.
He gave me a subtle nod, and I pulled away, ready to leave that house for good.
The drive to Zane’s was filled with tears. I called Alana and told her I was all right. Zane had contacted the club after I didn’t show, and Alana suspected that either Jason had taken me, or I had gone there. Again, she knew me better than I knew myself.
Zane had tracked Jason down. Who knows how, but he and his blonde sister had saved me. I told Alana I would be in for work on Saturday, but she insisted that I take the day. It would take a few days for the swelling on my bruise to go down, anyway. She was like my big sister, and I was thankful for her.
For once, I took her advice. She said she’d square it away with Leo, and I wouldn't have to worry about getting hung out to dry for two weeks. She’d make sure I was on the schedule. I thanked her again and again. It was almost too much. I thought I’d have to pull over. The major difference was that the tears were from joy this time.
I pulled into Zane’s driveway and sat there. The Mustang’s engine rumbled. It was a wonderful constant that drowned out everything I was trying to block out. With my head on the steering wheel, I tried to think of what to do next.
I wanted to get back on stage. I wanted to get back to earning money and seeing my friends. Something told me that wasn’t going to happen, though. I knew when Raven and Zane got back from Jason’s house, there would be a weight on their shoulders.
I finally shut the engine off. If I’d come here Thursday and not freaked out seeing Raven in the window, things would have turned out differently. I never thought I’d be a jealous person, let alone jealous of a white woman, but things were
changing.
I sat in the Boss Mustang, waiting for Zane and Raven to return. My heart beat slowly for the first time in days. I didn’t want to know how, but I knew that Jason wouldn’t be a problem for me anymore.
I owed Zane my life. He and his sister had saved me. I didn’t know how I’d repay them, but I would find a way. My head rested on the back of the seat in the middle of a quiet Bakersfield night. I realized I was hungry as hell. I guessed that Jason hadn’t fed me while I was semi-conscious, and now that things calmed down, I felt that ache in my stomach.
I looked over to my right and saw a welcome sight. Harvey was parked in front of the workshop. I smiled and got out of the Mustang. Walking over to my loyal car, I saw the black hood reinstalled. I looked past the dents, rust, and scratches and saw my car as brand new. Zane had made him look wonderful, and he had erased Jason’s handiwork.
I stood, running my finger over the smooth, new paint and thinking of everything that man had done for me. Zane didn’t have to offer me protection, he didn’t have to fix my car, and he didn't have to save me from Jason, but he did. Our bargain was falling apart at my feet. I had told myself not to care, but he made it so fucking hard not to.
When I saw the single headlight of a motorcycle pull in behind me, my heart picked up its pace. I turned from my car as Zane was dismounting. The smell of burning coated Zane’s entire body, and I had to step away from him. It invaded my lungs, scaring me into thinking horrible thoughts.
“What did you do?” There was panic in my voice.
Zane shook his head. I grabbed his hand and pulled him to face me. “What did you do?”
His eyes were as hard as his words. “I did what had to be done. I won’t say any more than that, because we both know you don’t want to hear it. The problem is taken care of. For good.” His voice was filled with steel, but I saw emotion beginning to show in his eyes.
I looked at him, my eyes were probably beyond bloodshot, “Do we have to leave town?”
“What do you mean?”
“Like, are we on the run now?” My voice quivered as the reality of the situation sank in. I was terrified.
“We’re not going anywhere. The club has our back. You and I are just fine.” His voice was soothing, but when he reached for me, I flinched. It wasn’t because of anything he did, but the memories of Jason’s kidnapping were still too fresh in my mind.
“Sorry. I’m not... I’m not ready.”
He nodded stepping back from me. “I get it. My bad.” After a pause. “Are you hungry?”
I nodded, a slight smile on my face. “Starving.”
“Well, shit.”
I furrowed my brow. “What?”
“I’m not gonna make you cook your own food, and I can’t cook worth a damn.” Zane looked back at his bike, then to me, “I know you don't want me holding you right now, but what about you holding onto me? I know an all-night place.”
For the first time since I’d met him, I was on the back of Zane’s Harley, my arms wrapped around him. Despite my exhaustion, my hunger, and my sore wrists, the ride was heavenly. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the thundering of the Harley’s engine below me. I didn't care where we were going, as long as it was with Zane.
I got used to the smell of burning that was still coming from him. There was something else mixed in with it, but I couldn't figure out what it was. I imagined that Zane smelled like firefighters when they get back from a job. It was manly, and it was powerful, because I knew what it meant.
I knew Zane wouldn’t tell me, but he didn’t have to. I’m sure I’d see it in the papers or hear about it from friends. Jason had perished in a house fire. My guess was that no foul play would be suspected. After Jason listed everything they’d tried to stick to Zane with no success, it wouldn’t surprise me if he was never even questioned.
The diner was an all-night dive that served all the standard fare. Any other time, I might have turned up my nose, but not that night. As we slid into the sunken booth, I already knew what I would have. The hole in my stomach was growing larger by the second
“What’ll it be?” an older lady, a total cliché, asked me.
“Coffee—black—pancakes, and French toast.”
Over her thick-rimmed glasses, she eyed me. “You want pancakes and a side of French toast?”
I shook my head. “No, an order of the pancakes and an order of the French toast.” I caught Zane smirking from the corner of my eye.
She looked me up and down, probably wondering how I’d manage to eat it all. Turning to Zane, she asked, “And for you, sweetie?” She looked at Zane, her eyes getting wider by a hair.
“Just coffee, also black. Thanks, Margaret.”
The older lady nodded and jotted it all down on her paper. “Be back with the coffee in a sec.” She gave us a stare, then turned away. We must have looked ridiculous. My wrists were red, I had a black eye, and Zane looked like he’d been dragged backwards through Hell.
I looked across the table at Zane for a few seconds, not knowing where to start.
I started with the most obvious and confusing question in my mind. “Should I call you Zane, or Tanner?”
He smiled, “Do you prefer Jenny, or Charity?”
The second name made me shiver. Jason’s obsession with that name had soiled it for me. I didn't even want to use it at work anymore. “I’d prefer Jenny. I want to forget Charity.”
He nodded. I stared at him and finally asked with a smile, “Well?”
“Well, what?”
I rolled my eyes. “Stop avoiding the question. Which do you prefer?”
Just as he opened his mouth, the older lady returned with two steaming cups of black gold. We thanked her and each took a hot sip. Zane stared out the window for a moment. I knew he was thinking, and I’d have to wait for him to speak. I sipped at the coffee, feeling the hot liquid sink down into my empty stomach.
He turned back to me, a coldness in his eyes. “I don’t like that name, Zane. I have bad memories associated with it. When I joined the Rising Sons, I was relieved when they gave me the nickname ‘Tanner.’ It was a chance for me to start over.”
I watched him. There was pain stabbing at his words, but he went on. “I want you to call me Zane, unless we’re around my brothers. I want that name to mean something good to me again, and I think you can help me do that.” After a beat, he added, “Jenny, I don’t care what happened with Jason.”
My heart ached to hear him say that. I didn’t have a response for him.
After another long sip of his coffee, he repeated, “I just want the name to mean something good again.”
I reached across the table and slipped my hand into his. “We can do that, Zane. We can make it good again.”
I could see that the name made him cringe, but he quickly morphed it into a smile. I knew the feeling. I didn’t ever want to hear Charity again, and lucky for me, it was my stage name. For Zane, it was the other way around. It would take some work until it felt good to him, as well as time and patience.
Lucky for him, I had both.
It was nearly seven in the morning when we rode back to Zane’s. The sun was just up and over the foothills. I kept my eyes closed, but more from exhaustion than the sun’s blinding glow. Despite three cups of coffee, the events of the past few days caught up to me in full force. I was hanging on by sheer willpower.
