Road of No Return (gay outlaw biker MC romance)

by K. A. Merikan

  Zak spread his arms in helplessness. “And how long it this shit going to take? You don’t talk to me, you can’t even fucking text me? Grow some balls!”

  Stitch looked back at him with his face tense. “I’m sick of everyone trying to push me their way! You want balls, here’s balls: I’ll tell you when I’m ready. For now, we’re done. I can’t be split in half! If you can’t wait, then that’s it,” he lashed out and punched the wall so hard his fist made a dent.

  Zak stared at him, completely dumbfounded. So there it was. The truth about Stitch. His priorities, people who he considered more important than Zak. Maybe it was better to get the wake-up call sooner than later. He was already getting too comfortable in Lake Valley.

  “Why did you do this to me? I was perfectly fine with my fun and relaxed sex life before I met you.” Zak shook his head, pulling on the shirt over the black hole in his chest.

  Stitch looked back into his eyes. “Me? I had none of these problems before I met you. I didn’t ask for this to happen. I was a perfectly miserable closeted guy, and then you just walked in and… and…”

  Zak raised his hand to shut him up. He’d just taken a figurative bullet to the chest, and he needed to get it out of his system. He walked over to Stitch, turning the signet on his thumb. It was a dead weight, squeezing over his pulsing finger like the jaws of a carnivorous bug. With each step, he was closer. First, close enough to sense Stitch’s smell. Then, close enough to feel his warmth, and as they were almost nose to nose, he smiled, even though his insides felt like they were falling apart. “Then you’ve solved that problem. You won’t be seeing me anymore. Enjoy Raven, or whatever her name is,” he whispered and pushed the signet deep into Stitch’s jean pocket.

  Stitch watched him without a word, but it did give Zak a tiny glimpse of satisfaction to see his whites redden. “My problem will never be solved after I’ve been in that hot, tight body,” he whispered, and his breath was so close it burned.

  “That hot, tight body?” repeated Zak through his teeth, squeezing his right hand into a fist. “You even talk about me in third person now?”

  “That’s not what I’m trying to say.” Stitch closed his eyes for a moment. “Why don’t you listen?”

  “You just dumped me.” Zak laughed out loud and stepped back when his eyes started welling up. He was so done. If he needed a sign he was through with this town, this was it.

  Stitch fished out the signet from his pocket and held it out to Zak. “Would you keep it?”

  Zak stumbled backward as if the ring was a weapon and held onto the door handle, which he quickly pushed down, opening the door. He didn’t need memories like this. Stitch didn’t follow him out into the corridor, nor did he say another word. Without him by Zak’s side, the corridor felt so alien and uninviting, Zak just wanted to leave.

  Unsure whether the club door was open, he walked back to the bar and rushed straight for the door, not wanting to talk to anyone. Outside, he was blinded by sharp sunlight but found his way to the car, keeping his head low.

  Captain sat by the table surrounded by girls, looking like a cock in a henhouse. He eyed Zak all the way to the car, but Zak chose to ignore it. He slipped his shades on and started the engine, pulling away without a word. The heavy metal that tore through the air the moment he switched on his MP3 player should suffice. He didn’t want to go home yet. The sun was slowly setting, so there wouldn’t be that many cars on local roads, and he could just go somewhere quiet to have a place to scream.

  He pulled out of the club’s parking lot and sped down the road, to be out of town as soon as humanly possible. The emptiness on the finger where he used to wear the signet still burned, so he forced his old car to go even faster, just so he could be as far away from the lying bastard as he could. Soon enough, Zak started passing little houses and neverending fields. It was getting dark when he finally stopped the car at the side of the road and got out, turning his face to the sun. It didn’t burn anymore, leaving a pleasant warmth on his skin instead. Slowly, he made his way toward the trees by the road, all alone and with the hole in his chest still the size of the Grand Canyon. He swore into the creeping darkness and slapped his hand against one of the trunks.

  He hadn’t decided on what to do. Six months was a lot of time, and he’d started feeling homely in his new house. In the city, Versay wouldn’t have as much space as he did now, and Zak didn’t want to give him away. He had no idea what the best course of action was, and the chaos in his head did nothing to help.

  All his senses stood to attention the moment he heard the roar of a motorcycle on the road. Did Stitch change his mind? Zak wouldn’t accept it just like that, but if Stitch did his penance and said he’d leave the club, Zak supposed he could accept an apology. His heart leapt toward the still roaring engine, but his mind refused to just let him walk over to Stitch’s feet like a beaten puppy. He turned around to face the sweet-scented bushes and leaned against the tree, listening.

  The heavy steps of boots crushed the dried up weeds, but instead of Stitch’s Nordic blond, what Zak saw was Captain’s black bushy hair and beard emerging from behind a thick tree. Zak’s first reflex was to step back, but he forced himself to stand his ground even though his insides froze, and his brain started looking for possible weapons around. Sadly, he was afraid breaking off a branch wouldn’t do.

  “Thought we needed to have a little chat,” Captain said, clearly enjoying approaching Zak like a predator. They both knew who had the upper hand here, but Zak was intent on not showing any sign of weakness, as difficult that might be.

  He shrugged with a deep sigh. “I don’t think we do anymore.”

  Captain stood in front of him, all too close. “If I ever see you around the club again, you’re as good as gator meat, get it?”

  Zak knew what he should say, but anger got the best of him. He would not just piss his panties in front of the guy who took Stitch away from him. “Are you getting off on this?”

  Instead of an answer, he got a fist to the face so fast, Zak barely comprehended why he ended up on the ground with his head still dizzy from the hit.

  “Now I am.” Captain took a step back and squinted at him. “I’m not gonna have some faggot degenerate my friend.”

  Zak swallowed the coppery taste in his mouth, his muscles stiffening as he checked his teeth. All were still in place. “Says the guy who eats out a girl in public,” he muttered, slowly rising to his feet. This time, he’d be prepared.

  “Better than having my ass fucked.” Captain launched at Zak and even though Zak tried to kick him, the guy was like a bulldozer of muscle next to him, pushing Zak to the ground, hit by hit.

  Zak’s head was a mixture of panic and resignation. He managed to deliver a few punches, but it didn’t seem to slow the fucker down. “No one wants to fuck your ugly ass,” he growled through clenched teeth as he shielded his skull from the punishing blows. He was caught on the edges of a tornado, tossed around without a way out. His mind turned to autopilot, searching for an opening to Captain’s groin, but it just wouldn’t come.

  Captain managed to kick Zak’s shin and send him to the dirt again before taking a step back. He spat at Zak with an ugly gurgle. “Keep your fag ass away from Stitch.”

  Zak flinched, curling into a ball in the wet dirt. He watched Captain through the slit between his half-closed eyelids, ready to move to avoid a kick in the back. His whole body was screaming with dull pain, dizzy from the powerful blows to the head, and he sealed his mouth shut, wishing only that this menace would turn around and leave.

  And he did. Without another word, Captain walked off, leaving Zak to swallow his own blood along with his pride. This day just couldn’t get any worse. Slowly, he wiped his face with his arm and turned to his stomach with a low groan. It was exhausting enough with his muscles tense as strings, but the sudden roar of a motorbike engine spiked something deep in Zak’s stomach, and he lurched forward, vomiting on the dirt. He heaved over the puddle and rolled to t
he side, looking into the treetops looming over him. He didn’t even notice when he started shaking.

  “Fuck...” he uttered, spitting blood as he pulled himself up by a tree that he used as support. Each of his joints twitched, as if every punch he got had been precisely aimed to turn him into a ball of pain. His eyelids were burning, he didn’t know whether because of shame or loss, but he hugged the trunk, digging his fingers into the bark as if it were the patches on Stitch’s cut. A low, breathless sob left his lips, and he opened his eyes, blinking away the haze of moisture before slowly making his way forward. It felt like he was moving like a penguin but with each step, his body got more used to the sting. When he finally dropped into the seat of his car, the safety of the known upholstery, of the familiar smell, made the situation dawn on him even more.

  He started the car gently, afraid the rattle would get him hurting even more, but when nothing changed, he sped up, wishing to be home as fast as possible. Driving out to think in the countryside when a mad biker hated your guts wasn’t such a good idea. Maybe even staying in Lake Valley wasn’t such a good idea. With every mile closer to town, he drove faster. What if that motherfucker came to his house and poisoned Versay or something?

  “Nonono,” whispered Zak, pushing the pedal even lower as he drove down the empty road. Each pulse in his temples was like a strobe light exploding in his head. It was making him dizzy again, but he was too close to home to stop in the middle of the road, so he sped up even more, focusing on the fluorescent markings on the road.

  An ear-piercing signal of a police vehicle dug into his skull, and he saw the car in his rearview mirror, like a piranha approaching him when he was already deep in water, bleeding and unable to swim away. Could nothing go his way today?

  Gritting his teeth, he slowly pulled to the side of the road and put his hands on the steering wheel. He regretted obeying the protocol the moment he saw his fingers trembling, but the policeman was already approaching in the bright lights of his car.

  And of course, it was no one other but Cox. Was he the only fucking cop in this town? Zak groaned when Cox knocked on the car window. He pulled down the glass, trying to keep his face in the shadow. He just wanted to be home.

  “Hey,” he muttered.

  Cox bowed down to his window. “Hey, Zak. You hurrying somewhere?”

  “Sorry, my mind drifted away,” he said, wondering if Captain had castrated his tongue as there were no clever remarks coming Cox’s way.

  Cox frowned, taking a better look at Zak. “Did Larsen do this to you?”

  Oh, for God’s sake. Zak turned his head toward Cox, knowing there was no point to hide his injuries now that they have been spotted. “What? Why would he do that? Of course not.”

  “Maybe because he’s been out of your house for the past week?” Cox held out his hand to hold Zak’s chin for inspection.

  “That’s because we broke up,” said Zak, pulling away from the touch. “Listen, I’m fine. Let’s not talk about him.”

  “No, let’s talk about him. I can’t believe this motherfucker would do this to you. You need to get that photographed and signed off by a doctor, and press charges. Come with me to the station.” Cox was breathing hard and watching Zak with a manic expression.

  “No.” Zak drew in a sharp breath, surprised by the outburst. “It wasn’t him. Can I get my speeding ticket and go home?”

  “You’re going to let that scumbag walk all over you like this? You know what?” Cox pulled out his booklet for tickets, but never even opened it. “I am done watching him assault and torment a nice guy like you. I don’t care if he outs me in retaliation. I am going to put his gay ass in prison, and you can thank me later.” Cox's fingers squeezed on the booklet so hard that Zak heard a crack in the finger joints. With a harsh bang to the roof of the car, Cox walked off back to his car.

  Zak blinked and leaned out despite the painful pull in his back. “Are you sick in the head? I fucking told you it wasn’t him!”

  Cox got into his car and slowed down as he passed Zak. “I’ll deal with this, Zak,” he said with a serious expression and didn’t wait for an answer before speeding up.

  Zak stared at the lights of the police car disappearing in the darkness, a hot urgency burning in his chest. He reached out to the passenger seat where he’d put his cell phone and fumbled with it to find Stitch’s number, which he fortunately hadn’t deleted yet. “Pick up, you dumb fuck,” he hissed when the wait lasted more than three signals.

  Chapter 22

  Stitch sat on the bed in his room, feeling as empty as never before. He kept putting on Zak’s ring (as he now thought of it), but it only reminded him of Zak being gone from his life. The Hounds were out in Houma to party with another club they were becoming allies with thanks to having the Coffin Nails as a mutual enemy. Stitch chose not to go though, knowing it would be shit. He was in a bad mood and on top of that Captain would probably keep pushing Raven at him. There was nothing wrong with the girl, she was a cool rocker chick, but she wasn’t Zak. And it wasn’t just about dick or no dick either. With Zak, the whole world disappeared as they fucked each other into oblivion, then just lay there as if they were one body, until they had enough energy to come again.

  Stitch looked at his phone where he had three missed calls. The last thing he wanted now was to have people trying to talk him into going to a party full of booze and tits. Something that used to be his element now felt as alien as never before. As if Zak had changed something in his DNA. He wanted Zak back so bad it hurt, but he couldn’t do it just now, when an explosion of violence was threatening to tear the town apart. So if Zak couldn’t wait, then this was it. Stitch could already imagine Zak finding some cool guy to start a life with and gritted his teeth so hard it began to give him a headache.

  Stitch was such a waste of space. A problem for Crystal, a selfish father, he couldn’t make it work with Zak, nor could he blindly follow the club’s increasingly violent rulings and plans. He put on his cut and pulled out the gun hidden in it. The barrel was shiny and black, the heaviness so certain in his hands. Maybe there was something he could do right? He dug his fingertips into the hard steel when he heard a harsh rapping at the club backdoor. It was as if someone was beating on the wood with both fists.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” He got up and went out into the corridor. “Shut the fuck up!” he yelled before opening the backdoor with a kick.

  Cox stepped back, his hand trailing dangerously close to his gun. He was the last person Stitch expected to see.

  “Someone has a violent streak today,” growled Cox.

  “The fuck you want, Cox? If it’s ‘cock’ then you’re not getting it from me.” He sneered at the cop, the image of Cox in bed with Zak impossible to erase and now even more vivid than usual.

  “It’s not cock,” said Cox with a smile that was dripping with poisoned honey. He made a move to enter.

  “Go on,” Stitch snarled at him and let him pass. All the weed had been taken to the party so he couldn’t care less. “I suppose you don’t have a warrant?” Stitch imagined pushing his thumbs into Cox’s thick neck and holding them tight until he stopped breathing.

  “I don’t need one.” Cox slowly walked over to the center of the lounge and crossed his arms on his chest. His eyes were dark and stabbed Stitch like invisible lasers. “You’re such a sad excuse of a man, Larsen.”

  “You got something to say, Cox? Or are you just visiting for no reason?” Stitch frowned at him and clenched his hands into fists. He did not need to hear anything from this motherfucker.

  “Yeah, I’m arresting you for assault.” Cox sneered like a vicious dog. “That at least will finally keep your hands off Zak.”

  “Assault on who? Stay here longer, and it might be another assault on a police officer. Good stuff.” Stitch put his hands in his pockets not to push Cox just yet. “You have no business with me or Zak.”

  Cox laughed, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable. What a piece of shit. You
know what? I don’t care if you out me anymore. I’ll live, but if people find out about you where you’re going, you’re gonna be so fucking fucked.” Cox stepped closer, showing his teeth like a rabid dog. He was rounding Stitch, readying himself to attack.

  Stitch’s body went cold, and he grabbed the front of Cox’s uniform. “What did you say?” He didn’t go through all of this shit with Captain to get outed and possibly killed by his former brothers. He was alienated enough already. “The fuck you want from me, huh?” He put all his effort into keeping his breathing normal despite the panic seeping into his brain.

  They both turned to the door when it hit the wall, pushed from the outside. Zak stepped in with his eyes wide open, a thin layer of red smudged around his mouth, hair all messed up. He leaned his back against the wall with a low groan. “Told you it wasn’t him,” he uttered, but Cox was already back to the conversation he was having with Stitch.

  “You’re gonna cooperate. I want your gang of thugs behind bars!”

  Stitch’s eyes widened at the bruises on Zak’s face. Did Cox dare touch Zak over this shit? “I’m not gonna rat on no one! You know very well it would get me dead!” he yelled at Cox and shook him so hard a few buttons popped off Cox’s shirt.

  “Oh, yeah?” Cox’s breath was moist and hot on his face. “Then I’ll make sure you’ll be gang raped in jail so many times you’ll call me, begging to rat out your own mother,” he growled with his face tensed into a cross between a grin and scowl.

  Stitch already felt like a rat, trapped, cornered, with no good way out. Every option was like a wall pushing him in, trying to crush him. Crystal, Zak, prison, the Hounds, Captain, his own sexuality at the center of it all. He wished he could just cut it out of his body like a tumor. Instead, there was one wall he could crush. A tumor to cut out.

  He pulled out his gun and shot into Cox’s chest. The impact sent Cox tumbling back, with his eyes wide open, so Stitch shot two more times just to make sure it sank in.