Taking a Dare

by J. A. Hornbuckle

  Stopping next to the table, the tall man looked at each fellow at the table in turn before opening his jacket to put his hands on hips. The sheriff's badge clipped to his belt was hard to miss. "Hellions, huh?"

  No one at the table said a word though their eyes were on the tall man.

  "I'm the Big Horn County Sheriff. I hope you weren't planning on riding south," the man advised. "Big Horn doesn't care for motorcycles or their riders."

  "So we've heard," Dare mumbled, his eyes glued to the other man's face. He'd seen the badge and was putting two and two together but his mind didn't want to accept the sum of what he was sure was true. "We're not going south this time."

  "Good. I know my deputies have detained a couple of your group and you need to be aware it'll happen each and every time you're in my space. Understand?"

  The men at the table nodded.

  "Great, so we're all on the same page. Drive safe and tip your waitress," the tall guy said with a smile. It was the smile that had Dare's balls moving closer to his body as the ice shifted from his stomach and began to move through his veins.

  He watched the man who's badge had announced him as 'Gentry' walk to the door where the woman waited and knew he just had to get confirmation. Because if what he was thinking was the truth…

  "Be right back," he announced to the table as he stood and moved quickly to the front of the café. Going through the door with the little bell on the top edge, he saw the man helping the woman into the cab of a late model Ford F-150.

  "Jim?" Dare called and saw the tall guy turn. Spying Dare, Jim's eyes narrowed as his gaze moved over the big biker. "Jim Gentry?"

  "Yeah? Who wants to know?"

  "It's me. Josh," Dare announced and found he needed to swallow after his words.

  Jim took a couple of steps to get closer as his scowl deepened. "Josh who?"

  "Josh, your fuckin' brother."

  "I lost my brother a long time ago," Jim growled through clenched teeth and squared his shoulders as if in challenge.

  "I damn-well did too. But we weren't lost, Jim. They fuckin' split us up," Dare corrected over the booming in his chest. "CPS sent us to different foster homes."

  There was only the sound of the wind and the traffic on the busy road as the two men stared at one another.

  Jim sighed deeply and Dare saw his eyes drift over the other cars in the lot before coming back on his. "Tell me something I don't know, Josh." Dare saw the other man's eyes take on a harder gleam. "So, you think you're my little brother and that means…what? That we're connected somehow?"

  "I know it was a long time ago but we were family." Dare was surprised by Jim's stance. Though he shouldn't have been. Shit, after their parents were killed it was Jim's smart-ass, we-don't-need-anybody attitude that had caused the boys to be sent to different homes. CPS hadn't felt nine year old Jim was a good influence for the six year old Josh. But little Josh had idolized his big brother.

  "Key word: were." Jim's voice had softened even though he was still frowning. "Looks like we've made our choices," and waved a hand towards Dare's cut. "We're on different sides of the fence."

  "Yeah, I guess we fuckin' are," Dare admitted, still shocked as shit to be standing in a parking lot in Billings talking to the brother he hadn't seen for twenty-odd years.

  Jim took off his hat and smoothed his short cropped brown hair before looking at his long, lost sibling again. "Nice to know you're alive, Josh. Looked for you when I got out of the military. No trace after you turned fourteen."

  "Dare. I call myself Dare now."

  Jim snorted and the smile, the grin that had helped Dare identify him, made a reappearance. It was a movement of lips and cheeks that hadn't fuckin' changed in all the years they'd been apart. "It fits."

  Dare just stared at Jim, wondering if the other man really wanted to know what had happened to young Josh. About the intervening years after he ran away from Oregon's solution to a homeless, orphaned kid. But he didn't think he was ready to talk about it and especially not to his so-straight-you-could-cut-your-fingers-on-him brother.

  "I need to get back to my boys," Dare said, unsure how to wrap up their conversation. It was evident by the way Jim maintained his distance, by the wary look in his eyes that whatever he was doing was as much as he was willing to give. "It was fuckin' good to see you."

  "Yeah you too," Jim mumbled before turning away and going to his truck. Dare saw the woman inside watch his brother as he moved to get into the cab, and they exchanged a few words before her eyes shot back to Dare in shock.

  Dare's dark gaze didn't waver while he watched the truck as it backed up and then out of the parking lot, throwing up small rocks and dust as it moved.

  Jim, though, never once looked back at the brother that had been lost to him so many years ago.

  *.*.*.*.*

  Each year, even as I made them, I had to admit to myself…I hated runs. Always had and probably always would.

  The last one I'd done east was when I'd been fifteen and had been, just like this recent time, ordered to attend. And it had been to the same destination. Which was only three and half hours away from the Hellion - Spokane chapter's place.

  But three hours on the back of someone else's bike would've driven me batty. Which is why I'd decided to drive the club's 2012 Cadillac Escalade. At least if I was steering a car that held suitcases and other shit that couldn't be stored in the panniers of a bike, I felt more like a Honey and less like a tag-along. Plus, it kept me off the back of March's bike which, considering our destination, was a good thing.

  But, if I'd had my goddamn way, I would've been my riding 'Agnes', my 2004 Harley Soft Tail Heritage!

  The motorcycle my dad didn't know I owned, much less proudly rode without his consent.

  My pops was an old skool biker and didn't believe women should ride alone. And especially his one and only daughter who even at twenty-five wasn't allowed to make her own decisions even if the law said I could.

  Agnes was definitely something daddy didn't and wasn't gonna know about if I had any say in the matter. Because there'd be hell to pay. There was a very long list of things I kept from my dad and I knew his version of hell. It was a deep multi-layered place, each descending tier even worse than the last depending on how bad I'd fucked up.

  Milk, who was riding shotgun and so named because of her white creamy skin, pointed to the road sign. We were just coming up to Look Out Pass, Idaho, elevation 4,100 feet and just this side of the Montana border. A pre-planned stop in order to give my pop the rest his hip would surely be needing by now. After laying his bike down last year to avoid a collision with a semi, his hip had never been the same.

  As I parked, I saw Leif and Jimbo reach to open the back of the Escalade to get at the cooler pre-packed with soda and the bag of snacks. Which was my contribution to try and cover for Pop's need for a break. Glancing over at my old man, I saw his mouth was a tight line and his eyebrows were furrowed. A sure sign of pain. I saw him reach to rub the hip that still gave him trouble even as he tried to walk it off.

  I went to where March stood with Ant and Rio. Without stopping his conversation, March lifted and arm and tucked me against his side. It was his little moves like that which gave me hope that things would turn out well between us. But, they were very few. And very far between.

  "Hey, baby," he said as he bent to kiss my forehead. "Everything okay?"

  "Yeah. Just worried about my dad."

  "He was starting to get antsy just after Kellogg. This rest stop will help, hellcat. No need to worry." I found myself wishing March could hold on to that sweet and remain comforting but I knew that it wouldn't last. Feeling a presence come up next to us, I looked over to see the man in question had joined our little group.

  "Everyone okay? No problems with anyone's ride because now would be a fine time to take care of the things that need doing," Dad announced, using his Hellion president voice and assuming the Hellion don't-fuck-with-me stance of hands crossed on chest
with feet solidly planted. He turned to me and gave me the once over. "How 'bout you princess? You holding up okay?"

  Considering he was in obvious pain, I found his question strange but my pop never asked questions just because. There must've been a reason behind it.

  "Yeah, dad. Doing good but anxious to get there," I replied with a smile. A smile that faded with the searching look he gave me.

  "You just remember who you're with now," my dad warned on a low tone, causing my heart to begin to jack-hammer in my chest. I'd been wrong to use the word 'anxious' and should've stuck along the lines of 'ready' instead. "Don't want no repeat of the last time you made a Missoula run."

  Shit!

  "You've done the run to Missoula before, Rye?" March questioned from my side and I felt him pull back in order to look at me. Smart man. Because I couldn't lie for shit and always gave myself away by some kind of look my face took on. Or so I'd been told. By many people. And often.

  "Once," I admitted but wouldn't look at him directly, finding the uneven parking lot a much safer view. "A long time ago."

  I saw my pop open his mouth but his words died when Leif called me over to where he stood, still at the back of the Escalade. I walked towards my long, lanky brother, wondering what he had that specifically needed my attention. We'd been close when we were younger but had grown different directions in the subsequent years.

  Putting his head close to mine, his voice was low as he said, "the old man has his boxers in a wedge thinking there might be a repeat of last time. Don't give him cause for worry, sis."

  "But I haven't done anything," I blustered.

  "You better make sure you don't either," Leif cautioned with a frown. "Remember what dad threatened to do then? Don't think even think for a minute he won't do it now, Rye!"

  Double shit!

  This run, which had just started, was turning out to be a problem before we even landed. All based on the past. My past.

  Our group didn't stay at the rest stop long and I was glad to be back on the road (and away from all the testosterone) although driving didn't provide enough distraction. And, as usual, without distraction, my mind wandered.

  It had been a couple of years since I'd last seen Dee, Carly and Lock. Too long even though we yakked on the phone at least once a week. Particularly with Lock. Me and my girl were tight. She rode too although she didn't have to hide it, not like I did. But as a Honey, she still wasn't allowed to ride with or for the club. Something I found ridiculous in that day and age.

  I reined in my thoughts, knowing the track they were on were only gonna piss me off, and I didn't want to arrive at the clubhouse scowling.

  I wondered if the boys I'd met the last time were still with the Missoula club. I knew Trey held the gavel now for their chapter although I couldn't imagine him in that position of power. Not the tall, broad but skinny kid with the wonderful laugh and cute dimples from my youth. I'd heard Bishop's name bandied about a few times when I was at our clubhouse so he must've stayed. He'd been ten years older than me but since he and Trey had been brothers for life, we'd hung out.

  Who the hell are you kidding? my mind butted into my ruminations, not quite as loud as it had been previously. You really want to know about Dare.

  It was true, I did. Wickedly funny and always up for a good time, Dare had been my 'run-crush'. Something I now knew happened a lot but I didn't know it then. With only two years between us in age, we'd been a couple of the youngest of the group and tended to gravitate towards one another.

  At least, that's what I told myself from my adult point of view.

  But the younger version of me didn't believe it for a minute.

  He'd called me 'gorgeous' and I knew it wasn't just a nickname by the way he'd sneak glances at my boobs and ass. But it was the color of my eyes that he said did it for him, and even I had to admit they were unusual. Aqua colored irises are definitely not the norm and when combined with my brown hair and thick eyelashes tended to be startling, bringing me way too much attention even when I didn't seek it out.

  If he'd just kept calling me gorgeous, giving me compliments and checking me out, I probably would've forgotten all about Dare in the subsequent years. Would've moved on and allowed the thought of him at seventeen to become just a distant memory. But he hadn't kept it so innocent, not the second-half of the week before our group left to go back to Spokane.

  And at fifteen, I fallen head over heels in love for the first and only time in my life.

  Something people said, and continued to say, it wasn’t possible citing I was too young to know my own heart. That it was simply a crush between two teenagers that would soon be shelved as pleasant memory. Not a loss you lived through every day for nine years, seven months and three weeks.

  But in my heart of hearts, I knew they were completely and totally wrong.

  Again, I forced myself away from certain memories. Not because they were gonna piss me off but because they would cause that sharp pain in my chest. The one that I thought of as the place where my heart had been welded back together. Not so much healed but more like a repair that had been forced, required in order to get through each day.

  I looked through the line of bikers that rode in front of the SUV, zeroing in on March who rode next to my dad at the front and wondered how the upcoming week was going to go down. And considered the man who was so not my choice but that I'd agree to marry. In any other circumstance and in any other country, our betrothal would have been called by the name that it really and truly was. An expression that had more than a few people scrunching up their faces when they heard it.

  An arranged marriage.

  How was Dare going react to all that was my life now?

  Or was he already caught up in someone else? Someone he'd found a better connection with than the naïve teen-aged girl who'd cried her eyes out as she'd climbed up behind her older brother and ridden away. Ridden away from a boy-man that she still valued.

  Still fantasized and dreamed about.

  My heart gave a painful thud at my admittance.

  I saw the ribbon of bikes in front of us slow as our group began to change lanes in order to exit the 90 freeway.

  Almost there and I could feel my heartbeat pick up its pace.

  But I told myself it was only because I was anxious to see my friends again.

  It had absolutely nothing to do with the nervousness my teenaged self was feeling at the thought of seeing Dare again.

  Chapter Five

  "Need you to go to the Rosemont and reserve the top floor before you check back in at the club." Trey's voice was lighthearted as it came through Dare's speakers of his Chevy Silverado. Dare fuckin' loved the blue-tooth feature that allowed him to use the hands-free option in order to touch base with the club or his brothers. "Spokane has arrived and there's not enough room at the compound."

  "Shit! How many fuckin' came out?"

  "Eighteen including the Honeys."

  Dare's heartbeat made its presence known with a double-bump. With Honeys? Did that mean that Ryley might be with them?

  "Will do but am gonna fuckin' drop Burleson off at his place first," Dare advised, trying to keep a handle on the emotions that were building. It had been, he admitted, an emotional day. "We doin' din-din at the club?"

  "Dallas's meatloaf, so don't be late or you'll be shit out of fucking luck," Trey advised with a laugh. It seemed no matter how much of the fuckin' stuff Trey's fiancé made, there were never any leftovers. The brothers had decided that it was the bomb and almost as good as Reese's biscuits.

  After disconnecting the call, Dare went back up inside his head where he'd spent most of the time on the ride back from Billings. Only now, he had a different focus than the one from before.

  Ryley.

  He was aware of the voices of the other men in his truck and of the beauty of the late spring mountains they were traveling through on their way back to Missoula, but he wasn't paying attention to any of it. His mind was remembering the most
amazing eyes he'd ever seen that came attached to the most wonderful girl he'd ever encountered.

  Ryley.

  At seventeen, Dare had been very mindful that his experience in just about everything had been so much more than the little beauty's and had tried to stay away from her. But he hadn't been able to resist either her laugh, budding curves or the light in her eyes that told him that to her, he was special.

  And up until then, Dare'd never been anyone's special.

  After his parents died and the system had separated the two brothers, little Josh had been shuffled from foster home to foster home. By the time he was twelve, he became aware that his 'dad' was eyeing him in a way that didn't feel right and had him locking the bedroom door at night. To avoid the man's attention, Josh had taken on more than a few jobs: newspaper boy, gardener and dog-walker. Anything to get money and stay away from the house he'd been assigned to.

  Because having the green meant he could get away. Get gone.

  He'd tried talking to his social worker, giving little hints about what was going on in the hopes she'd pick up on it. But she just kept gushing about how wonderful the Fergusons were and how lucky their house had an opening after the last place the young man had been in hadn't worked out.

  Josh had never, since the time he was five, ever thought of himself as lucky.

  By the time he was fourteen, he'd had enough.

  Enough of dodging the fat, balding man who seemed a little too interested. Enough green (over five hundred dollars!) in order to see himself out of the system that held him captive. Enough balls to actually put on his cheap-ass shoes and thin jacket, walk to the interstate and put his motherfuckin' thumb out.

  But his little stash o' cash hadn't gotten him very far. Even at fourteen, he'd been short and scrawny, appearing much younger. Which had gotten him rides but too much attention from lonely truckers with a twist towards young, vulnerable boys. And there weren't many hotel clerks that wanted to let him use a motel room no matter how many dead presidents he'd flashed their way.