by Kylie Parker
“Get out.” He commanded, as Tom opened his blurry eyes. He looked down the barrel of a gun. In a split second, he opened his eyes wide.
“I’m not going to repeat myself.” Bruce snarled. Tom then reached for the door handle, still staring at the gun in Bruce’s firm hand. He opened it and jumped out of the large vehicle. Bruce averted his gaze from the door and looked at the warehouse. He put his foot hard down on the gas. The massive, diesel engine roared. Grasping the steering wheel tightly, he turned the truck slightly right, putting it in a collision course with the warehouse. Adrenaline rushed through his veins, as the large building came dangerously close. Just before impact, Bruce saw Howard, standing behind the window.
The big, heavy vehicle crashed forcefully into the warehouse. Thousands of shards of glass were shot into the old building, along with countless splinters of wood. Howard’s body was thrown more than fifty feet across the warehouse. He landed flat and very hard on his back, moaning in agonizing pain. Bruce stepped hard on the brakes. The tires squeaked, as the truck slowed down. It was brought to a halt, just a few feet away from the small room on the corner. Bruce grabbed the rifle and jumped out of the truck, as Melissa stormed out of the room. Meanwhile, Howard’s men had caught up with him. They stopped right behind Bruce’s truck.
“Dad!” Melissa screamed, looking down at her bleeding father.
“Get back in that room!” Bruce yelled, cocking back his rifle. “It’s about to get rowdy in here.” He continued, as Howard’s men began to jump out of the trucks. Grasping the grip of his rifle, Bruce started towards Howard. Before he got closer than ten feet from him though, all hell broke loose. Multiple semi-automatic weapons, rifles and pistols started firing, almost simultaneously. The men carrying those weapons were behind the last truck, firing at Howard’s men. Bruce was stunned to discover that they were not shooting at him. One by one, his enemies were brutally gunned down. Hardly anyone of them managed to fire a shot. Even Tom was shot, in his attempt to run back to the warehouse. Bruce took a few quick steps back and leaned his back against the truck, completely clueless about their identity.
“Hold your fire!” A loud, hoarse voice was heard, as the cracking sounds of the gunshots resounded in the warehouse. Helped by the truck lights, Bruce bent his head to the left and snuck a peek. Several men were coming his way. This time though, he could tell who they were. Their black, leather jackets with the big, white pistol logo on the chest left him no doubt. They were members of “Blazing Sons”, his old, motorcycle club. Adding to his already immense surprise, Vincent Burrows himself was leading them.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are.” Vincent sounded very cheerful indeed. “Come on, Harris. I already know it was you. That’s not the way to welcome your brothers.”
Bruce took two, hesitant steps to the right, walking into the light. Each and every member of the Las Vegas and the Boston charters was there. Vincent was smiling broadly up at him, surrounded by more than twenty men.
“Well, well, well… If it ain’t Rambo!” He cheered, opening his arms. His men burst out laughing. Bruce was stunned to stillness. He opened his eyes wide in disbelief, before Vincent hugged him cordially.
“You should have told me about this.” Vincent complained, leaning back. “Matt reached out to me last night. He told me all about Sanders and his business with Howard. I was about to call you, when I got a call from the boys in Vegas. They said Joe was dead. They also mentioned Howard’s plan. We took the first flight out.”
“Boss, I just got off the phone with Wilson.” One of them interjected. “He said they escaped.”
“Thank God.” Bruce sighed in relief. “You flew all the way from Boston to help me?” He inquired, unable to hide his surprise.
“Yeah.” Vincent said with a nod. “The Sons always help out each other. You know that.”
“I left the MC a couple of years ago.” Bruce spoke in a steady tone. “We never helped former members.”
“True, but you were a member for nine years, son.” Vincent smiled. “I practically raised you. I just thought I should make an exception for you. Come say ‘hi’ to the boys. They’ve missed your sorry ass.”
Bruce did not have to go to them. One by one, his old comrades walked up to him and hugged him, looking very happy to see him again. Relieved that he was still alive and grateful to them, he returned their hugs. Within moments, he began to smile at them as well. Lost in a group hug, he did not notice Vincent, as he passed them by. He went to the right and stopped next to Howard. Looking down at him, he pulled out his gun. Bruce did not have time to react. Vincent pulled the trigger. The bullet penetrated Howard’s skull. He was killed instantly.
“Noooo!” Melissa screamed at the top of her lungs, once again storming out of the room. She sprinted across the warehouse, towards her father. Just before she reached him, she fixed her gaze on the bullet hole on his head. Melissa stopped beside him, fell to her knees and dropped her head in her hands, bursting into wailing sobs.
“We had to retaliate.” Vincent said, lazily returning to his men.
“Can I have a moment with her?” Bruce requested.
“Sure.” Vincent muttered. “Come on, boys. Let’s give those two some privacy.”
Putting his hands on his waist, Bruce watched her emotional breakdown. Seeing her like that broke his heart. Part of him wanted to go to her and comfort her, hold her in his arms one last time. However, he chose to stay where was. As much as she had hurt him though, he owed her an explanation.
“I wasn’t going to kill him.” Bruce sighed. “I’d put a gun to his head and ask him to release them. His goons would put down their guns and I’d be free. I didn’t know they were coming.”
“Why?” She sniffled, abruptly looking up at him over her right shoulder.
“Because he wouldn’t have kept his promise. He’d kill me.” He replied, his voice steady and calm. Bruce slowly turned around, looking down at his feet.
“Is that it?” She wondered, hastily getting up. “Is that all you got to say?” Her trembling voice forced him to stop.
“I told you the truth.” He claimed, unwilling to face her again.
“Is this another ‘goodbye’?” Melissa’s last question brought tears to his eyes. Bruce bit his lower lip, trying hard to fight them back. It was hopeless; a thick tear rolled down his right cheek, as he realized that he could never see his beloved Melissa again. Desperate to catch a glimpse of the woman who had captured his heart, he turned around once more and faced her.
“I never…” His voice broke; unable to resist the urge to hold her again in his arms, he began to walk up to her. “I never meant to say ‘goodbye’. I shouldn’t have left Vegas.”
“It was all true, baby.” She whispered, putting her hands on his face, as more tears spilled from her eyes. “Please don’t ask me to stop calling you that. You’ll always be my baby…” Melissa ran her thumbs across his cheekbones. He closed his eyes, savoring her light touch. Bruce wrapped his arms around her back and pulled her close. He kissed her on her forehead, filling his nostrils with her feminine scent, feeling her shaking body in his embrace.
“Goodbye, Melissa.” He whispered. Bruce dropped his arms and kept his eyes closed, trying to avoid witnessing her reaction. But, he could not close his ears. Her loud sobs tore him apart, as he made his way out of the warehouse. Determined not to relive another painful moment, he did not look back. Whatever he and Melissa had was over. Now, he had to find a way to live without her…
27
Bruce left Fountain Hills with his old friends that night. They suggested flying back to Boston together, but he insisted on going back to Los Angeles, maintaining that he wanted to see Matt and collect his motorcycle. Nevertheless, the next flight to Los Angeles was scheduled to leave in the morning. Bruce had to spend the night in Phoenix.
The thought of reading Melissa’s letter flashed through his mind, as he found himself all alone in a small hotel room. Intrigued by the thickness of
the envelope, lying on a narrow bed, he opened it and pulled the lengthy letter out of it.
“My dearest Bruce,
They say that finding your significant other is hard; maybe harder than some people think. I agree. It’s not just hard. In today’s world, it’s almost impossible. There is so much distrust, so much stress that people tend to focus on their personal needs, not caring about others. Well, most of them do.
I guess I got lucky, then. I found my significant other in a bar, or, perhaps I should say, he found me. There he was, big and strong, talking to me when most locals wouldn’t even risk a glance at me. He didn’t know anything about my father. I lied to him, thinking that he’d run if he found out who I was. But you know what? He didn’t run. He stayed. He believed in what he had, even though it was new and he forgave me for lying to him. Then, I was honest with him. My man had baggage, too. He used to be an outlaw. He wouldn’t tell me at first. It really amazed me that he felt sorry about whatever he’d done. He was still hurting; I could tell by the look in his eyes, on the night we met. That’s why I asked his friend’s help. I wanted to see him again. I said to myself: ‘That man’s got soul. He’s true.”
You proved me right. You changed everything I ever believed about bikers, but that’s nothing compared to everything else you made me feel. You made me feel wanted. Special. You made me laugh. You barely knew me, but you weren’t afraid to come clean about your past. What kind of man does that? Well, the rare kind. Someone who’s not afraid to open up.
I still can’t believe what you did this morning. You risked your life for me. Nothing says ‘I love you’ like an act of heroism. You were willing to put your life on the line, just to take me with you. I really can’t describe what I felt, when I saw you on my lawn. I wanted to hug you, kiss you all over and tell you how much I loved you. Because I do love you, baby. I don’t know how that’s even possible, but I do. How could I not love the man who just… took me as I was? Who forgave the lies I told him about me? The man who made every moment so special that I thought I was living in a fantasy?
My father pushed me really hard last night. He wanted to know everything about you. He said that if I didn’t tell him, he’d never stop hunting you. He gave me no choice. I told him all about the money you and Matt had found on the street and your motorcycle club. He promised not to hurt you. I said ‘ok, but I want to see him again.’ I was being honest when I said that I was about to fly to L.A. this morning. I needed to see you again, talk to you, hug you, feel your hands on my body… God knows how much I wanted to tell you about my father’s plan. But I couldn’t. Deep down, I knew that you would take this the wrong way. You think my father is ruthless. I can’t blame you. He is, but I believed him today. I don’t think he would lay a hand on you.
What you said this morning really broke my heart. Ok, you got mad at me, but was what I did really that bad? I had to protect you, baby. I would do anything to keep you safe. I had to make sure that, after tonight, you’d go back to fixing bikes, somewhere in Boston, with me by your side. I had a dream about that the other night, you know. It was just you and me, in your workshop, changing a tire on my bike. You cut yourself with a wrench and I hugged you. You kissed me and you told me you loved me. God, it felt so good that I didn’t want to wake up…
We’re on the plane to Phoenix right now. You’re all alone and you won’t even look at me. I’m so sorry, baby. I did this for us. Please tell me that you’ve forgiven me. Please take me back. Please say that we can dance to ‘Love Bites’ again. Please make my dream of being with you come true.
Love,
Melissa
Bruce tossed the letter on the bed, sensing tears streaming down his face. Overwhelmed by emotion, he covered his eyes with his hand, as the events of the night returned to his mind…
“You’ll always hold a special place in my heart, Melissa. Even if I end up with someone else, I’ll always wonder if I was actually meant to be with you. I’d love to just… fly back to you, but I know how that is going to end: We’ll both cry our eyes out again. I miss you …”
28
At last reunited with Matt, Bruce couldn’t wait to leave Los Angeles. The thought of spending another hour in the same hotel suite where everything had transpired literally appalled him. His good friend obliged; he did not appear eager to continue their vacation, either.
In Bruce’s mind, the long ride back to Boston would feel even longer, as he believed that riding a Harley feels much better when one is in a good mood, like the one they were both in on Sunday night. The two friends had been through hell. They would recall certain events with horror. Bruce would have to find a way to mend his broken heart. At the time, it seemed like a mammoth task. Matt would have to recover from the psychological shock of his abduction, but hoped that putting in long hours at work would help him forget. Neither of them got much sleep on the three nights that they spent in cheap motels along the way.
Four days later, at dusk, Bruce and Matt arrived in Boston, exhausted and in dire need of a shower. Upon stepping out of the empty elevator on the third floor of his apartment building in Fenway though, Bruce was in for a surprise: Vincent had been waiting for him on his doorstep.
“The return of the prodigal son.” He said with a grin.
“Hey, Vincent.” Bruce chirped, crossing the narrow corridor that led to his apartment, with his blue suitcase in his hand. “What’s up? Have you missed me?”
“More than you can imagine.” Vincent winked at him, as Bruce put the key in the lock. “We need to talk.”
“I’m pretty beat.” He protested. “Can’t this wait until tomorrow?”
“Trust me, it won’t take long.” Vincent assured, as Bruce walked into his apartment.
“Alright. Have a seat.” He murmured, pointing at the beige armchair in his living room.
“Thanks.” Vincent said, obliging. Bruce took his suitcase in his bedroom and then joined him, sitting on the couch on the right of the armchair.
“First of all, I’m glad you didn’t take my advice.” Vincent spoke in his hoarse voice. “Matt told me about Howard’s daughter.”
“Actually, I should have, Vince.” Bruce disagreed. “You were right. Falling in love makes us softer.”
“That’s just bullshit, son. I only said that so that you guys could focus on club matters.” Vincent admitted. “Speaking of which, I talked to the guys. They want you back. So do I.”
“I’m sorry, brother…” Bruce croaked, shaking his head sideways. “But the answer is ‘no’. I’m legit now. I make good money. Why would I want to give that up?”
“No one asked you to do that.” Vincent lowered his tone. “You probably don’t know this, but I’ve been trying to move the club into more legitimate enterprises lately.”
“What?!” All of a sudden, Bruce’s voice turned into a high-pitched squeal. “You’re kidding me, right?”
“No.” Vincent stated. “It’s a club decision. It was unanimous. The boys got tired of all the shit that had been going on since you left. Besides, we got the money from the trucks you stole. It’s fourteen mil. Your cut is waiting for you at the clubhouse.”
“And what shit is that?” Bruce asked, ignoring Vincent’s last sentence.
“Well, the feds were all over our asses for more than a year.” Vincent said with a sigh. “They kept pressing locals, asked them all kinds of questions. They took me for questioning three times. They came up with nothing. No one ratted.”
“That’s good to know.” Bruce commented. “What do you mean by ‘legitimate enterprises’?”
“Nothing is certain yet.” Vincent confessed. “Right now, we’re just studying our options. We’re torn, really. Some guys suggested running a porn website. Others want to start an electronics store. I like both those ideas.”
“Porn?” Bruce squinted at him.
“Right.”
“What do you need me for?” He inquired, unable to keep his voice down.
“Relax.” Vincent m
aintained his composure. “You can either work security on the studio, or, if you want to, you can drive the store truck.”
“You got me worried there.” Bruce laughed.
“What, you thought I was going to offer you a job as a porn star?” Vincent joked.
“Yeah.” Bruce chuckled.
“Anyway, think about it. Like I said, we’re not ready yet. The way things are moving, we won’t be ready before December.” Vincent said.
“I really like that.” Bruce confessed. “But what about my workshop?”
“It’s open all day, right?” Vincent inquired.
“Yeah.”
“Keep it. You can work there after 3pm, if you choose the driver’s job. No deliveries are done after that. Security clerks can work nights.” Vincent’s reply widened the smile on Bruce’s face. He was very intrigued indeed.
“I’ll think about it.” He nodded.
“Nice talking to you, son.” Vincent said with a grin, getting up from his seat. “Call me.” He continued, patting Bruce on the shoulder. Closing the door behind him, the aging biker left Bruce in a major dilemma.
“He’s right. Both those ideas sound pretty good. If those businesses grow, we could all make great money. Keeping the workshop sounds fantastic, too. I don’t want to leave it, especially after all the hard work I’ve put in. But, is the club really going to stay out of any illegal activities? I doubt that. Even if Vincent wants to quit running guns and mulling drugs, I don’t think they’ll let them. First, he needs to find other crews, greedy enough to want to replace the Sons. I don’t know if they’ll like the idea of being under the FBI’s microscope.”
29
The following night, Bruce and Matt visited “Burning Rubber”, a vintage bar close to their workshop. Frequented mostly by bikers, it resembled “Java Jimmy’s”, the place where Bruce and Melissa had first met. Being the owners of the only workshop in a ten-mile radius, the two friends received a very warm welcome. Well known and very respected, they were treated like celebrities. Most of the customers who were there at the time either hugged them or high-fived them.
