by Geri Glenn
I lay in bed for over an hour, my head running through the altercation with him over and over again, imagining all the different ways it could have played out. None of them were good. As much as I knew he’d hate knowing he saved me, Reaper had. He’d saved me from having to make the choice for myself.
The sound of a motorcycle approaching the house, followed by another vehicle yanks me from my internal war and I glance at the clock with a frown. It’s after five in the morning. The sun is starting to rise. Who could be here at this hour?
Sliding out of bed, I hurry to the window, sliding my old ratty robe up and over my shoulders. Squinting into the darkness, I see the lights of the bike and the car, but nothing more. Once the lights turn off, I see Ryker climbing off his motorcycle and heading toward Charlotte’s car. What on earth?
Turning, I hurry down the hall to the front door and flip on the light, just as Ryker steps inside. His tired, angry eyes meet mine, but he doesn’t say a word as he brushes past me and disappears into their bedroom. Charlotte’s right on his heels and as she closes the door behind her, giving me a weary smile.
“Did we wake you?” she asks as she pulls of her boots.
I watch her carefully, not understanding the worry in her eyes. “No. Couldn’t sleep. Is everything okay?”
Charlotte sighs heavily and places her boots inside the front hall closet. Standing, she turns and presses her lips together. “I hope so,” she says quietly. “It’s a long story, and I’m sorry, Anna, but I just want to go to bed and sleep for a week.”
I’m dying to know what has put that look in my sister’s warm brown eyes, but one glance down at her slightly swollen belly has me stepping aside. “Go sleep, Char. We’ll talk tomorrow?”
Her smile is soft as she nods, then she’s gone, closed off in the bedroom with her husband, leaving me with even more to keep my mind awake throughout the night. I’m not too worried, though. I don’t know what has her looking so weary, but I have no doubt Ryker will handle it. The only thing in this world I’m completely sure of is that he’d give his life for my baby sister. What more could I ask for?
After ensuring the door is locked and flicking off the lights, I make my way back to my bed and slide beneath the covers. As I close my eyes, it’s not Charlotte’s worried eyes I see, it’s something worse. Something smaller. It’s that pill.
I don’t know if I’d have taken it if Reaper hadn’t of shown up or not, but I do know that I was far too tempted by it. I’d had a close call tonight, one that could have ruined me. I need to do something. I can’t just sit here and pretend like Shiv’s offer hadn’t tilted my world on its axis. I have to act before I fuck everything up.
Reaching over, I flip on my bedside light and dig through the nightstand drawer until I find the paper. Narcotics Anonymous has meetings all over the city, several times a day, every day. I need to find one when I wake up and get my ass back on track. I may not have fallen off the rail tonight, but I’d been looking over the edge and thinking about jumping. That can’t happen.
My finger slides down the page, searching for one in the early afternoon. That gives me time to get some sleep, get ready for work, and find a ride into the city. I finally find one for tomorrow at three o’clock, and it happens to be close to the Pig’s Ear. I can hit the meeting, force myself to go in and actually participate this time, then walk to work and do my shift.
That settled, I feel an overwhelming amount of relief as I rest my head back on my pillow. You can do this, Anna. The decision to fail is on you, and I’m not gonna let you make it. Inner pep talk over with, I finally drift off into a fitful sleep.
Reaper
Ryker bangs the gavel down on the table with a crash that makes a few guys jump, calling the emergency church meeting to order. It’s too fucking early for this shit. I haven’t even finished my damn coffee, and here I sit at the clubhouse on less than three hours of sleep.
I figure my mood must be showing on my face when Jase grins at me, as if he knows I’d rather be anywhere but here. Asshole was the one that called me two fucking hours ago and dragged my ass out of bed. He’s clearly enjoying my misery.
“We got some shit to discuss,” Ryker says, and for the first time, I notice that he looks worse than I do. Of course he does, asshole. The poor bastard spent half the night in jail. “Seems like we’ve got a new friend interested in the Kings. Any of you have any history with a Constable Richard Belanger?”
His question is met with silence and furrowed brows.
Ryker cracks his knuckles and continues. “Well, me and the good Constable got to know each other a little last night, and let me tell you, there’s somethin’ not right with that motherfucker. He’s got a grudge against this club. Either that, or the dude’s a fuckin’ psychopath. He went on and on about the drugs in the city and the hookers on Vanier Boulevard, accusin’ us of being the reason behind it all.”
“We’ve been outta the drug business for a couple months now, and we ain’t never pimped out pussy,” Hulk grumbles.
He’s right. Back when we were in the process of continuing to deal with the series of events and blowback from Anna’s shit, we’d given over all our drug ties to one of the local street gangs. Ryker was determined to clean up this club and fly right, and most of us were right behind him on that. As for pussy, we’d never gotten into that shit. The club owned a few strip clubs, but it was always on the up-and-up. We took care of the bitches working there, and they were shit-canned the minute one of them started selling her wares.
“None of that seems to matter,” Ryker states, his hands folding on the table in front of him. “He was makin’ up anything he could think of to keep me there. If it wasn’t for Bax, I’d still fuckin’ be in that interrogation room.” He sighs and runs his hands through his hair. “He had intel on every one of us. Knew shit no civvie should know. He’s got an informant somewhere.”
Hard eyes clashed with hard eyes as we all looked around the room at the sixteen other patched members of the club. We’d had a rat in the club before. He hadn’t gone to cops, but he’d cooperated in helping another club fuck us over, and in the end, he’d met the end of a blade from every one of us in this room. I had a hard time believing that anyone of these men would be so stupid as to do the same. Besides, I’d worked alongside these guys for years. They were my family, my brothers.
“From now on, information is shared on a need to know basis, and right now, all you fuckers need to know to keep your goddamn noses clean. These fucks are gonna be breathin’ down our necks, lookin’ for any excuse to haul our asses back in. We aren’t gonna give them any opportunity. We clear?”
Heads nod around the room as Ryker shifts his focus to me. “Reap, get a hold of your buddy. I need intel on Belanger. I wanna know every fucking thing about this guy. Where he lives, who he’s fucking, who his momma was fucking five goddamn years ago. Everything. We need to know what he’s digging for, and we need to know fast.”
“On it,” I say, realizing that I might have to pull Cam from his search for Laurie. Club shit takes priority. I’ll have to track down that bitch on my own.
“Everyone else,” he continues, “watch for tails. Tell your women to watch for tails. You go to work, you hang out at the clubhouse only, and you keep your shit in check.”
After another round of head nods, Ryker bangs the gavel back down on the table and chairs scrape across the floor as one by one, the men stand and make their exits. After just a couple of minutes, Ryker, Jase, Tease, and I are the only ones left in the room.
“You think this could be the same guy that pulled you over?” Ryker asks.
“Not a fuckin’ clue. I told you, never saw his face. All I know is he was arrogant, mouthy, and knows how to hold a flashlight.”
Ryker’s quiet for a moment, his jaw flexing. “Fuck,” he mutters. “I got a bad feeling about this guy. Tell your boy to work fast, yeah?”
Cam could do fast. “Yeah.” Standing, I snag my phone off its belt clip and he
ad out back. Cam answers on the first ring.
“Still nothin’, man.”
I can’t help but sigh. “Yeah, I figured. Look, I need you another case. It’s for the club, and it takes priority.”
“What about Laurie?” he asks.
“I’ll find that bitch, don’t you worry.”
Anna
Once again, I find myself standing awkwardly outside of another AA/NA meeting, trying to convince myself to go inside. Very few people knew about my problem, and I was never one to broadcast the bad stuff in my life. When I’d realized the very hard rock bottom I’d hit, I’d gotten my shit together, with Knox’s help. Now it was time to finish it without him. The poor man had done more than his share of helping me, and I wasn’t about to let him, or myself, down.
“We could walk in together.”
My body locks tight when the words are spoken from directly behind me, and I wait a moment to see if the voice had been directed at me. When I don’t hear a reply, I slowly turn. The elderly man from the meeting the other day stands about three feet away, a friendly smile on his face, his elbow held out in an offering.
“The first one’s always the scariest,” he says conspiratorially. “After you get that one over with, the rest are a piece of cake.”
I don’t know if it’s the fear of embarrassment or the act of acceptance and understanding this man is showing me, but I only debate taking his arm for about three seconds until I finally do it. His arm is thin and withered, but I can feel the sinewy muscle and strength there. Strength that he’s lending me, a stranger, to get through one of the scariest things I’ve ever had to do.
He covers my hand at his elbow with his, his callused palm warm and comforting. “You ready?”
I know he can see the fear in my eyes when I look at him and nod, but he doesn’t comment. He just squeezes my hand and takes the first step for me. Together, the two of us enter the large room and find a couple of empty seats in the centre row.
The room isn’t as full as I’d expected, but there are about ten other people milling around, fixing themselves strong smelling coffee in little Styrofoam cups. Some are chatting quietly to each other, while others, like me, are sitting quietly, just taking it all in. The first person I seek out is Bosco, and I’m grateful when I don’t see him. I’m not ready for anyone in the club to know my history. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready for that.
“My name is Henry,” the man besides me says quietly. My gaze slides to him, and for a moment, I debate about giving him a false name. I mean, it is Narcotics Anonymous, after all. But I don’t. I don’t want to lie about myself anymore. Telling Henry my real name is just the first step in accepting my demons for what they are, and finally facing them and destroying each and every one of them once and for all.
“Anna,” I offer.
He smiles gently, like a man dealing with a cornered animal. “Would you like some coffee, Anna?”
I shake my head. “No. Thank you, though. Not sure my stomach can handle the caffeine right now.”
Henry nods knowingly and stands, wandering over to the coffee station, greeting people as he moves. As soon as he’s gone, the urge to run out of the room like my hair’s on fire is almost overwhelming. My eyes slide to the door and I grab my purse, ready to make my escape when the image of Shiv waving that tiny pill around replays in my mind.
I was going to take it. I was fooling myself last night when I had been thankful for Reaper showing up, preventing me from making the decision myself. I’d been thankful he’d shown because I’d already made it, and it had been the wrong one. I would never give him the satisfaction of knowing it, but Reaper may have saved my life last night.
A tear slips down my cheek as I tuck my purse back under my chair and face the front of the room. Henry takes his place beside me, just as the woman at the front of the room calls the meeting to order.
For an hour, I sit in silence, listening to the stories and struggles of the people in the room. None of their stories are even remotely like mine, but somehow, we’re all the same. We’ve all coped with more shit than we could handle, and we’d let it pull us under. These people talking, though, they had clawed their way out and were fighting every day to stay above it and not let that shit drag them down again. I had too, until yesterday.
The offer is sent out around the room, asking if anyone else wanted to share their story. I don’t even breathe, terrified that the slightest movement will have the whole room looking for me to tell them my own battle. I appreciated each and every one of them for sharing their own, but mine is mine, and I’m not yet ready to share it.
After the meeting, Henry stands as I do and turns to me with another kind smile. “Here,” he says, offering me a small white card. It says nothing more than “Henry M.” in simple black font, followed by a local telephone number. “Any time, day or night, you call that and I’ll be there to talk, okay?”
His kindness has tears burning the back of my throat as I take the card from his withered fingers. “Thank you,” I whisper.
“I know I’m an old fart, Anna, but I’ve lived my share of good and bad. If I can’t help you, I’ll find someone who can, okay?”
I nod gratefully and tuck the card inside my coat pocket.
“One more thing,” he adds. “If you have someone you love, someone who loves you, talk to them. You can’t fight this battle on your own, honey. You need your loved ones behind you. Okay?” I don’t know how to tell him that my only loved one is my sister, or that she would never understand the choices I’ve made, so I just nod and give him a shy smile. Henry holds his elbow out to me once more, and together, we leave my first NA meeting.
Reaper
I’d just gotten off the phone with Cam, letting him in on our change in plans when I notice Pimp walking toward his ride on the far side of the lot. Pimp is a long-time patched member of the Kings, who spends his days running Club Chrome, one of the hottest nightclubs in town. Since I’m a bit of a tech geek, I do a lot of the security equipment for the club and its affiliated businesses, and Chrome is one I tend to spend a lot of time at.
“Pimp,” I call, jogging up behind him. “Need a word.”
A man of few words himself, Pimp turns to face me and simply cocks a brow.
“Came across a guy last night that I knew but couldn’t place. Figured you’d be the one to ask. Scrawny guy, about your height, gold tooth right up front.”
Pimp thinks for a moment. “Sounds like Shiv you’re talkin’ ’bout. Guy’s a fuckin’ shady as hell drug dealer. He’d sell bad shit to a preschooler if he could make a buck. Kicked him out of the club once. My boys made it clear he best not return. Haven’t seen him since.”
Shiv. Hearing that name reminds me where I’d seen him before. The club had run him out of several establishments for selling drugs to the patrons. I’d only met him once, and it hadn’t been pleasant. He’d been in a club run strip club, trying to sell his shit cocaine to a few of the ladies. One of them had gotten scared and ratted him out to the bouncer who called us to put the fear of God in him.
He was scrawnier now, and had most definitely been sampling his own wares; his unfocused eyes and greying skin gave that away. So how the hell did Anna know him?
The look on her face when I’d shown up had told me something was up. The way I see it, she’s either fucking using or selling. It doesn’t matter much which one it is. Neither is a part of her changing, like she insists she’s doing. Stupid bitch.
I don’t really know what to do with this new information. Technically, Anna is Ryker’s problem, but that poor bastard has enough on his plate, and Charlotte’s in no condition to deal with her fucked up sister any more than she has to. I know that being pregnant doesn’t mean she’s an invalid by any means, but it does mean that stress should be kept to a minimum. Anna isn’t helping with that, doing drugs right in her fucking house. At least, that’s what I’m willing to bet she’s doing.
I bid goodbye to Pimp and make my way to m
y own bike, ready to set off and see if I can find my psychotic ex. Cam had given me an address he’d been going to check out before I switched his focus, so I figure that’s as good a place to start as any.
As I get closer to the address, I’m surprised to see the city fall away and the sprawling properties I pass boasting bigger, and more extravagant homes. The address leads me to a gated property, complete with a buzzer. The house is hidden behind lush trees and a hill bigger than most ski hills I’d seen. This must be the home of Laurie’s ex-fiancé, Michael Lancaster. Maybe the two of us could start a damn club.
I press the buzzer and wait, my eyes taking it all in, wondering what Laurie could possibly have done to fuck herself out of all this. It takes about three minutes before someone finally answers.
“Hello?” The disembodied voice of a woman sounds wary, and very French. I glance up to the camera mounted on the fence and figure they don’t get many bikers gracing their doorsteps in this neighbourhood.
“I’m looking for Laurie Welland.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but Laurie no longer lives here.”
I know this, of course, but it’s hard to interrogate a speaker, so I had to start somewhere. “Do you know where I can find her?” I ask as politely as I can.
“I don’t. She’s been gone for over a month now.”
“Is it possible to speak to Michael?”
“He’s not here right now either,” she says, her voice still holding an edge of wariness. “He’s away on business and won’t be back until later in the week.”
A dead end—for now. I thank the woman and leave. I feel like a hamster in a damn wheel, running and running, and getting absolutely nowhere. It’s both infuriating and suffocating.
