Ride or Die 1

by Claire C. Riley

  The other brothers cheered and patted me on the back as they passed me—all but Hardy. My old man just stared at me for a moment, looking like he wanted to say a thousand things but not saying any of them, and then he turned and walked back inside the clubhouse.

  Rose smiled over at me like she’d set this whole fucking thing up and I hadn’t been pining after my woman since I was a fucking teenager. She walked Laney to me and then she leaned over and kissed me on the cheek before walking away, finally leaving me and Laney alone again. She looked at me, her lashes still damp from her tears, and I used my thumb to wipe them away before leaning in to kiss her on the mouth.

  “I’m your old lady now?” she asked hesitantly as she pulled away, and I couldn’t decide if she looked frightened or excited by the prospect. Regardless, it was happening. Laney was my old lady, whether she fuckin’ liked it or not.

  “Damn straight you are,” I replied, and she let out a little breathy sigh that went straight to my dick. I reached for her and she stepped away from me, and I couldn’t stop a growl from rumbling in my chest. “Need to go get your stuff because you’re moving in with me, today. Wanna have you in my bed and under me every night from now on, and that’s not up for debate.”

  She swallowed and looked away from my face, stepping out of reach when I tried to touch her. Fuck, I needed a drink. Everything hurt. Everything. And now she was holding out on me too? No way. No. Fucking. Way.

  “You got somethin’ on your mind, then you better say it,” I snapped.

  “All right, well if I’m your old lady then we need to get one thing straight,” she said, placing her hands on her hips defiantly.

  Goddamn, I wanted to fuck her again, feisty little thing that she was, but I’d be damned if she wasn’t pissing me off. Brothers had warned me what it was like to have a woman on your arm, trying to control everything you did. Thought it would take longer than thirty fucking seconds for that bullshit to kick in, though.

  “What the fuck now, woman? I fucked you, I made you come—several times, I fought your dad, I’m beat up and bleeding and I just need a fucking drink and to sit down before you start bitching me out about some trivial bullshit like a boring old housewife!”

  “You stupid fucker!” Laney reached back and slapped me hard, catching us both by surprise, and her eyes widened in horror right before her hand flew up to cover her mouth. “Oh shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that…” she mumbled beneath her fingers.

  I leaned in and kissed her hard, even though my split fucking lip was burning with every move of my mouth and it felt like my lungs were on fire. I kissed my girl, because fuck me if she wasn’t a smart-mouthed little bitch that I loved.

  “You’re not mad?” she asked, her cheeks flushed as we pulled apart.

  “Of course I’m fuckin’ mad, but I love your smart mouth. Just try and rein it in a little. Especially now,” I said, reaching around to squeeze her ass and making her yelp. “Now what the fuck was you going to ask me?”

  She looked confused for a moment while she struggled to recall what she had been about to ask me. “Oh, I um, I was going to tell you that you had to move out of the clubhouse, because I’m not living here,” she said almost coyly. “Not with all the shit that goes on here—”

  “Done,” I replied. “What else?”

  She looked surprised by my agreement, and I couldn’t help the smugness from showing on my face.

  “That’s it,” she replied.

  “That’s it?” I repeated, confused. I’d expected a long list of demands or something.

  “That’s it. I just don’t want to live here.”

  “All right then, now can we please go inside so I can get a drink and some ice, and maybe a blowjob from you at some point today? Because I’m fucking exhausted, woman. We’ll sort out getting somewhere together because there’s no way in hell I’m living with Gauge.” I winked and grabbed her by the waist and started to guide her inside, loving the sound of her shocked gasp and then her little laugh.

  Yeah, I was completely pussy-whipped, but at least I’d gotten some pussy.

  Chapter nineteen:

  3 months ago

  Jesse

  It was nearly done. Thank fuck.

  Couple more days, max, and I’d be taking the Harley out on the road with the roar of the two-cylinder, V-twin engine, riding low, and loud as fuck. A guttural cry from the devil himself, no doubt.

  Butch and I had been working on the bike for almost eighteen months now, though I would have had it finished a lot earlier if he’d have let me, but it had started out as our project and we’d kept it that way for a reason. Life had gotten pretty hectic recently, but the bike always brought us back together. The bike had been built from the ground up, almost every part original and custom made to order.

  It was a one of a kind, more so than any of the bikes I’d built for anyone else.

  It was a sight to behold, too. All matte black and shiny chrome, with rigid frames with springer front ends and ape hangers. She was fucking beautiful. I dreamed about riding that bike as much as I dreamed about riding my woman.

  The shutter to the garage was up, Hardy & Son’s MC Shop in full swing, but I’d found myself with a couple of hours to spare, and knowing Butch was on his way back after a ride out for the club, I knew he’d want to get straight to working on the Harley as soon as he could.

  I’d been patched in a while back, but I was still mainly stationed at the garage, for the most part. Laney liked it that way, and though I liked being close to her, I wanted to be out on the road more, like Butch. He was going on longer and longer rides, meaning that we saw each other less and less. The club was my family, every one of them my brothers, but Butch was the only true blood I had. Hardy didn’t count.

  Laney had gone to some old lady meet with River and Charlie, Axle and Rider’s women. It was supposed to be a meeting to discuss a party for Skinny’s return after serving time in the DOC, but I had no doubt that Laney and the others would be stripped off to tiny string bikinis and sipping on margaritas by now.

  I reached down and readjusted my dick, the thought of Laney in that tiny white bikini of hers, all wet from Charlie’s pool, turning me as hard as a rock.

  The roar of bikes had me looking up, and I watched as Butch, Dom, and Gauge pulled in and parked their bikes. I stood up and wiped my hands down my jeans and headed out to see them. Butch was hanging his helmet on his bars and talking to Dom as I approached, and Gauge was already heading inside—to speak to Hardy, no doubt.

  “Decided to show your sorry ass back around here, did you?” I joked, referring to the poker game he’d lost the night before he’d headed out. He’d lost a shit load of cash and had stormed off in a foul fucking mood with only a kiss my ass as a goodbye to everyone.

  “Couldn’t have you running your mouth off now, could I?” Butch joked and pulled me into a hug, poker game forgotten.

  “Too late for that. You’ll never get laid again after the shit I’ve said about you.”

  “Oh yeah?” he smarted arrogantly, cocking an eyebrow at me.

  “Yeah,” I laughed. “I may have even brought up that picture you used to carry around of Mom.”

  His face fell. “You wouldn’t fuckin’ dare.”

  “Bitches thought that shit was cute—I probably did you a favor. At least until I told them the rest of the story, brother!”

  “What fuckin’ story is this?” Dom laughed, stepping into the conversation. “I ain’t heard nothin’ about a photograph of your mom.” He frowned. “And here I was thinking we shared everything. I’m hurt,” he joked, placing a hand on his heart, and we both started laughing.

  The door to the clubhouse opened and Hardy stood in the doorway, his presence dominating the space. “Get in here! I need intel, now!” He turned and went back inside, and the door slammed closed behind him.

  I looked over to Butch, who was shaking his head in annoyance.

  “That’s one angry motherfucker,” Dom said,
his smile gone. He slapped Butch on the back and made a cross over himself. “Good luck in there.”

  Butch tried to laugh it off, but it was obvious he didn’t have good news to pass on. “I’ll be over as soon as I can, Jesse. We’ll work on the bike together tonight, yeah?” He started to walk away and looked back. “And keep your mouth shut about me from now on!”

  I showed him my middle finger and laughed. Dom followed me over to the Harley, giving a low whistle as he ran his palm over the seat.

  “She’s looking good,” he said. “She almost done?”

  “Yeah, any day now.” I picked up my wrench again and continued to screw the bolts tighter on the dressers. I’d sprayed them last week, and Casa had hand-painted the Highwaymen logo on them for me. Man was a genius with paint and was fucking wasted working at the strip club, in my opinion. But Casanova by name, Casanova by nature, I guess.

  “Everything go okay out there?” I asked, turning back to Dom.

  He shook his head, his nostrils flaring. “Not really. Shit is fucked up.”

  One of the clubs lead drivers—Skinny—had just got caught with a van full of our cargo and was being sent down for the pleasure of it. We were trying to piece together how the fuck he’d been caught in the first place since we’d got people on the payroll that had promised us his safe passage.

  “The intel no good?” I asked, watching him with concern.

  “Nah, by the time we got there, the crew the Highwaymen had paid were long gone.” He sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. “So what’s this story about Butch then?” he asked, changing the subject.

  I laughed and stopped working. “Butch used to carry this picture of our ‘mom’ in his wallet around with him. Showed all the kids in school and had them all jealous as fuck that our mom was so hot. Told them she baked cookies and took us hiking on the weekends and shit.”

  “That’s just sad,” Dom said, not smiling. “And kinda pathetic since I know what your mom was really like. How the fuck have I never heard this story before?”

  And he was right, it was sad. In reality our mom had been a junkie crackhead and had died from an overdose. But I knew why he had done it. He wanted more, for both of us. And he was hoping that I was young enough to forget what she had put us through. That maybe, just maybe, he could wipe away those tragic memories with something fucking good and pure.

  It didn’t work, though.

  The memory of me pulling the needle from her arm and lying next to her while her body went cold and stiff still haunted my dreams, her blotchy pale face and sunken cheekbones a constant reminder of the irreparable damage the drugs had done to her body.

  “It was when we had to move schools cus’ we moved up here with Hardy. But this is where it gets funny. Butch was staying over at his friend’s house one night and the kid’s mom walked in on him giving himself a hand job in the bathroom, all while staring at the picture of our mom.” I cracked up laughing, the memory of Hardy almost killing Butch for embarrassing him was still hilarious.

  “I don’t get it,” Dom said, his deep voice tinged with confusion. “I mean, that’s just fucking gross. I know you two were fucked up, but—”

  I grinned. “Nah, the picture wasn’t really of our mom, it was some model he’d cut out of a magazine years before.”

  Dom started to laugh. “Well shit.”

  “Yeah, exactly. Story went around school, though, that he was jacking off to a picture of his mom and it took three months of constant ass-kicking for the story to stop.” I picked up my wrench and went on working, the memory making me smile.

  “Surprised he took three months of ass-kicking. Don’t seem like his way,” Dom replied.

  I looked back at him. “Nah, brother, it was three months of Butch kicking everyone else’s asses.” I shook my head and laughed. “Story still comes back to haunt him though.”

  Dom lit a cigarette and chuckled. “Thought I knew everything there was to know about your brother. Guess some people have skeletons hidden no matter how hard you look, huh?”

  Butch chose that moment to walk into the garage. He looked from me to Dom and back again before shaking his head. “You fucking told him, didn’t you?” He dragged a hand through his beard. “Why can’t you just keep that shit to yourself?” he asked.

  “You know me, brother.” I saluted. “I’m all about honesty, integrity, and the good ole’ American truth.”

  “Yeah, you’re a real fucking saint, Jesse,” he smarted. He turned to Dom and jutted his head toward the door and both of them walked out. When he walked back in a minute later, he was alone. “Gotta meet Dom for a beer later on.” He grabbed a hairband and tied his hair back from his face. “Got a couple of hours before then, though.” He smiled and crouched down to see what I was working on. “She’s a fucking beauty, ain’t she?”

  “Sure is,” I agreed. “You know we’re gonna be arguing over who gets to ride her the most. A motherfucking custody battle over our baby,” I laughed.

  Butch went silent and I turned to look at him, my laugh dying.

  “What is it?”

  He frowned and smiled at the same time. “This bike is yours, brother.”

  It was my turn to frown then. “No, it’s ours—we built her together.”

  Butch shook his head and patted me on the shoulder. “Jesse, I’ve spent my entire life looking after you, but the truth is, this life is hard—harder than I thought it would be. I might not always be here for you. But this,” he said, running his hand along the shiny chrome, “this will always be a reminder of me. It means I’ll always be with you, even when I’m not.”

  I stood up. “Has something happened?” I asked seriously, watching him for clues as to why he was being so morbid. “I’m serious, has something happened that I should know about?”

  He smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m fine, brother. I just realized that I’m not fucking immortal and the world don’t run around me, even though it fucking should do,” he chuckled. “I want you to have the bike, Jesse. You’re not a little kid anymore. You’re a man, with your own woman and a life apart from mine. We might end up going in different directions—fuck, I hope so because I want something more for you—but this bike will always bring us back together.”

  He stopped talking and stared at me, and I could tell that he wanted to say more, but had stopped himself.

  “Butch—” I started to speak but he cut me off.

  “All right, let’s stop with the sweet talking before I grow a fucking pussy, all right? Let’s get this bitch up and running. I wanna see my kid brother riding this beast before I fucking die,” he laughed and I laughed with him, though his words were more haunting than humorous.

  “Kid brother? Really?” I joked trying to lighten the mood. Shit had gotten serious real fucking fast, and he obviously didn’t want to talk about it right now.

  “You know, you may be a hard-ass motherfucker—probably tougher than even me now—but you’ll always be my kid brother, so shut the fuck up and pass me the wrench,” he laughed.

  I didn’t like his tone, or the way his mind was working, but I was also really fucking glad to have the bike for myself. I didn’t have much in life; my world consisted of very few things and very few people, but what I did have I looked after and I loved hard.

  Laney, Butch, Casa, and that bike were everything to me. More than everything: they were a part of me. Each one of them had somehow saved me in some small way. Sometimes from myself, sometimes from other people, sometimes from my own dark fate that was constantly trying to catch up and pull me under. But either way they had saved me.

  Building that bike with Butch had meant the world to me that past year or so, and no matter what life had thrown our way, it had continued to bring us together time after time.

  Little did I know that pretty soon, it would be the only thing I had left of Butch.

  Chapter twenty:

  3 months ago

  Laney

  I stood in
the doorway watching Jesse and the rest of the Devil’s Highwaymen start unloading our furniture from the back of the truck. Nerves fluttered in my stomach every time I looked around our new home.

  It was ours. Not his, not mine, but ours.

  Hardy and Silvie had helped get us a good deal on the house, and Butch, Dom, and Cutter had worked on the repairs for us—of which a lot were needed. Charlie, River, and Rose had surprised me by painting the entire place from top to bottom after the repairs were completed, and Gauge had helped us out with money for new furniture because neither of us really had anything to our name.

  It had been a real family affair, and one I was entirely grateful for. I had never really had a family before coming to live with Gauge. It had always been Mom and I and whatever “friend” was living with us at the time. I couldn’t say I had a bad upbringing, though—Mom had given me everything a little girl could ask for. She went to all my parents’ evenings, she helped me with homework, and she always made sure my clothes were clean, as was I. But nothing ever washed away the fact that everyone knew she was a whore. And as I got older, I had learned exactly how cruel both kids and their jealous moms could be.

  But now there I was, with a group of people who treated me like I was their family—a daughter, a sister, a cousin, an aunt, and of course an old lady. I had it all for the first time in my life, and more than anything I was happy.

  I watched Jesse and Gauge grab the new sofa from the bed of the truck and start carrying it across the lawn toward the house. Jesse had a hard look on his face, and sweat was glistening across his skin. God, he was gorgeous—even more so when he was sweaty and working hard like that.

  I turned and walked inside as they reached the door. “Over here, please.”

  “You sure you don’t want it by the back wall?” Gauge asked, nodding his head to the wall in question. “TV will look better over there, and you won’t get as much glare on the screen.”