Prince: Devil's Fighters MC

by Kathryn Thomas

  “It’s still me, Aly,” Prince said.

  Alyssa stared at him in disbelief. “No, it’s not, and you’re a fool if you really think it is.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said again, after a few moments of the heaviest silence either of them had ever experienced.

  “Stop saying that,” Alyssa snapped.

  “It’s the truth.”

  “Bullshit.” Alyssa could feel her heart breaking and a tear opening up within her that was quickly growing into an abyss. “No one who even had the ability to feel sorry would ever pull a stunt like this.”

  Prince sighed. “It’s not a stunt, Alyssa,” he said. “It’s just something I have to do.”

  “No, it’s not!” she finally snapped, all but shooting to her feet. She could hear her voice breaking, but she didn’t care. “Shitting all over your future for a motorcycle gang is not something you have to do!”

  “Aly—”

  “Look me in the eye,” she cut him off sharply. “Look me in the eye and tell me this is really what you want.”

  Prince stood slowly. He stepped closer to her until they were standing only a couple of inches apart. Alyssa’s stomach spasmed. It was like looking at a car crash in slow motion. His green eyes kept her in place, rooting her to the spot.

  “This is really what I want.”

  There it was. He had said it. And he had looked her in the eye. Alyssa could practically feel her world collapsing in on itself.

  “Go.”

  “Alyssa, please. Don’t do this.”

  “I’m not doing anything. You’ve done it all yourself.”

  “Aly—”

  “I said, go,” Alyssa repeated through gritted teeth and past the enormous lump in her throat.

  Prince did. He hesitated, but eventually he did.

  “I love you,” he said as he stepped off the porch of the house.

  “No,” Alyssa said, “you don’t.”

  And she had never known anything as certainly as she knew that.

  *****

  That was the last time she saw Prince. She had packed her things the very next day and told her parents she would leave early in order to get acquainted with the place. She knew they could tell she was running from what they thought was a mere breakup, but to their credit they never said anything about it to her.

  The thought that, if Bennie Lenday was to keep his word (and he usually did), she would probably see Prince again tomorrow had her stomach in knots. Would she even recognize him? Would there be any trace of the boy she had loved left in the man who had grown up to be a Devil’s Fighter? And what would she say to him? What would he say to her?

  Alyssa exhaled slowly, trying to get her emotions under control. She wondered if it was too late to arrange for a closed-door funeral. She pushed away the thought as fast as it had entered her mind; she couldn’t do that to her parents. They deserved a proper goodbye, and the people who had loved them deserved to be given the chance to pay their respects.

  Love was a funny, dangerous thing, Alyssa decided. Here she was facing the prospect of having to deal with one of the most dangerous gangs in the territory, and she was worried about only one of its members.

  She shuddered. Even after eight years, the thought of her Prince as a Devil’s Fighter gave her the chills. But that was exactly it, wasn’t it? He wasn’t her Prince anymore; he had not been hers in a very long time.

  Alyssa didn’t like to admit it, but she still thought about him sometimes, in a very sexual way. Sometimes she would lay in bed and think of all the things he used to do to her. Sure, they had not gone all the way, but that did not mean they had been idle. Eight years later, the memory of Prince’s touch on her skin was still very much vivid. If she concentrated hard enough, she could still taste his kiss. Sometimes, when she pleasured herself, she would picture him. She would conjure up his naked body on top of her, and she would imagine what it would feel like to have him inside her. She would hate herself afterwards, but in the moment Prince would give her some of the best orgasms of her life.

  She shook her head and pulled herself forcefully back to the here and now. She was being ridiculous, irrational. None of that mattered right now. Not her shameful erotic fantasies, not her still-broken heart, not the Devil’s Fighters. Certainly not Prince Wheeler. All that mattered now was to give her parents as much of a dignified goodbye as she could arrange. They deserved to be remembered and celebrated for the extraordinary people they had been.

  Alyssa unglued herself from the couch and—once again—sought the comforts of a shower. Just like the previous night, the hot water didn’t help wash unwanted thoughts away, and it certainly didn’t wash away any of her pain. But she held no illusions in that regard, and she showered quickly this time.

  Craving to resume contact with her life and the outside world, she sat on the bed in the old bedroom and turned on her laptop. Checking her e-mails, she wasn’t surprised to find dozens of messages of condolences—from clients, colleagues, and friends. She spent the next hour or so replying to each one of them, spending as much time on a single message as she could, making her response as personal as she could. Despite the subject matter, it was ironically a menial task that took her mind off things for a blessed hour and ten minutes.

  She also found a message by Lynn among them, which thankfully didn’t have the word “condolences” anywhere in it. It simply said:

  “This is my e-mail address. Let’s not lose each other again.”

  It was garnished with a smiley face at the end. Simple and to the point, and yet heartwarming.

  Alyssa smiled. She picked up her cell phone from the nightstand and dialed Lynn’s number. Her call was picked up after the first ring—yet another sign that she had been a fool to cut ties with such a considerate friend.

  “Alyssa? Is everything okay?” Lynn’s concerned voice filled her ear.

  “Yeah,” Alyssa said. “I was just calling to thank you for the e-mail.”

  “Oh, not at all.” A brief paused. “So, I know you’re probably tired of funeral talk, but I just wanted to reassure you everything’s ready over here.”

  “Thank you,” Alyssa said sincerely. “I appreciate it more than you’ll ever know.”

  Lynn had offered to have the post-funeral reception at her diner, an offer which Alyssa had accepted gratefully; the thought of having it at her parents’ house was simply unnerving.

  “It’s no problem,” Lynn said. “How are you holding up?”

  Alyssa shrugged, even though she knew her friend couldn’t see her. “I’ll be glad when it’s all over and I can just focus on coping.”

  “I understand,” Lynn said.

  Alyssa hesitated, and then she suddenly decided that she had to share with someone who could remotely imagine what it all felt like. “Something happened this evening.”

  “Oh?”

  “I got a visit.”

  A moment’s silence. “Shit,” Lynn said heartedly. “Prince?”

  “God, no,” Alyssa said, shuddering at the mere thought. “I’d be much more of a mess if he had showed up.”

  “Who, then?”

  “Bennie Lenday.”

  “Fuck. Are you okay? Do you want me to come over?”

  Alyssa smiled. It felt good to be talking to someone who had more than a vague idea of what that name meant. “No, I’m fine,” she said. “Really. It’s just…he wanted to offer his condolences.”

  “He can shove them up his ass.”

  Alyssa laughed. She couldn’t help herself; Lynn’s indignation was too prompt and palpable. “That’s pretty much what I told him.”

  “In those exact words?” Lynn asked worriedly.

  “No,” Alyssa reassured. “But they want to come to the funeral tomorrow.”

  “Who? The Devil’s Fighters?” Lynn sounded incredulous. “Are you kidding me?”

  “He says my dad patched them up more than once. Apparently they’re grateful or something.”

  “Well, shit. What
are you going to do? Should we ask the police to keep them out?”

  “Like that’s ever going to happen. Half of them are on Bennie’s payroll, you know that.”

  “Yeah,” Lynn said bitterly.

  Alyssa blew out a frustrated puff of breath. “I told him I don’t want them there—although I doubt he gives a rat’s ass what I want.”

  “Come by the diner in the morning,” Lynn said. “Around seven-thirty, if you can. It’s usually quiet at that time on a Saturday. We’ll sit down and figure something out.”

  Alyssa hesitated. “Lynn, I don’t want to involve you in this.”

  “Nonsense,” Lynn said immediately. “I’m happy to help.”

  “Thank you,” Alyssa said sincerely.

  “Don’t mention it. Now go get some sleep; God knows you’re going to need to be sharp tomorrow.”

  Alyssa smiled. “Hear, hear.”

  They said their goodnights and hung up. Afterwards, Alyssa lay in bed in the dark for a very long time before sleep finally came. She had no idea how to keep Bennie Lenday and the Devil’s Fighters from doing anything they set their minds to do, but she would find a way. Like with many other things in Pinebrook, she didn’t have a choice.

  CHAPTER SIX

  It was a never-ending afternoon. Defining the turnout at the funeral as “impressive” would be an enormous understatement. It seemed like the whole town had shown up. Alyssa always knew that—as a well-respected neurosurgeon who loved to take up extra shifts at the local E.R.—her father had been very popular. She also knew that her mother had helped countless of kids come out of their shell and express their full potential throughout her years of teaching at Pinebrook Primary School. But while suspecting about her parents’ popularity with the town’s people was one thing, getting to experience it firsthand was a different matter entirely.

  Alyssa had spent the past eight years and especially the past three days cursing the town of Pinebrook with every fiber of her being, but as it turned out, that day the people of Pinebrook were unexpectedly the ones to bring her the comfort she so desperately needed. She was deeply touched by how eager they were to celebrate her parents’ life. She had heard about tragedy bringing people together, but she never knew what that meant until today.

  To her surprise, the Devil’s Fighters did not attend; they contented themselves with sending a massive wreath of daisies and a note that Alyssa didn’t bother to read. She couldn’t decide whether the fact that they had eventually opted for not showing their faces made her feel better or worse. They weren’t invisible, like she would have wanted. Even though they were not physically there, they made sure their presence was registered. Bennie Lenday’s gesture may be masked as one of respect, but it was really a gesture of scorn. Alyssa could order the Devil’s Fighters out of her world all she wanted, but she was in Pinebrook, and it was still their territory whether she liked it or not. Throughout the ceremony, every time Alyssa looked at the wreath of daises by the open grave that would host her parents’ coffins, she wanted to throw up.

  Throughout the day, she lost count of the times she heard the word “condolences.” She was starting to loathe that word. At the very least, unlike for a certain MC president, it meant something in those people’s mouths.

  Alyssa braved it all as best as she could—the wake, the funeral, the reception. Packed in the relatively small space of Lynn’s diner—at least, smaller than the cemetery—the people seemed even more numerous than what she had estimated at first. It was overwhelming in more than one way, and by the time the midafternoon hours rolled along, Alyssa felt trapped.

  She had to get out of there, but she knew she couldn’t go far. So she contented herself with sneaking out of the place and leaning against the wall of the building outside. She could still hear the buzzing of the voices coming from inside. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It was still scorching hot out, and she deeply wished she wasn’t dressed all in black. She also wished she could have a cigarette right now, even though she had not smoked in ages.

  “You look like you might need a smoke.”

  Alyssa’s eyes flew open. She would recognize that voice anywhere. Sure enough, standing a few feet away and looking nothing like she remembered, was Prince Wheeler.

  He had grown, if possible, even taller—or maybe it was just the way he carried himself. Back when they had been each other’s world, Prince was insecure and tended to slouch a little in order to make himself disappear. Not anymore. He walked tall and proud, and he exuded a kind of self-assurance that he had never possessed before.

  He was clean-shaved, but there was nothing innocent about his features. Prince used to have eyes wide with wonder—despite a childhood that could have made it into an inspirational self-help tale—and delicate features courtesy of his family’s French origins. Not anymore. There was a darkness in his once-clear, green eyes and lines on his handsome face that weren’t there before.

  His wavy, unruly brown hair once gave him the look of an angel. Now, the errant strands that fell in front of his face did nothing but enhance the shadows in his eyes.

  It was Prince, and yet it wasn’t. It was a man who bore no trace of resemblance to the boy he had been, and that threw Alyssa almost more than the fact that she was seeing him again for the first time in over eight years.

  Her stomach, which had been in knots for the whole day, clenched even tighter, so much so that for a moment she feared she would throw up on his biker’s boots. Right. His biker’s boots. Alyssa ran her gaze over his whole figure and, after his startling appearance, she allowed herself to also take in his clothes. Black jeans, white T-shirt, and a damnable black leather vest that bore the sigil of the Devil’s Fighters. The red Satan mocked her from above the small pocket on the vest’s right breast, and Alyssa knew an even bigger version would be printed on the back.

  She experienced an almost overwhelming wave of disgust that she never thought she would one day feel towards Prince of all people.

  “Hello, Alyssa,” he said, in a voice roughened by something more than the years.

  Swallowing hard against the rush of emotion, Alyssa finally unglued herself from the brick wall of the exterior of the diner. She, too, stood as tall as the weight of the past few days would allow.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded, doing her best to keep as cool a demeanor as she could, given the circumstances.

  He looked at her like she had just asked the dumbest question he had ever heard. “Where else would I be?”

  “Are you here on behalf of your friends?”

  Could that be? Could Benedict Lenday have sent Prince to offer the club’s condolences because he knew it would hurt her even more? She really wouldn’t be surprised if that turned out to be the case.

  “I’m not,” Prince said firmly. “I’m here on my own behalf. For you. I wanted to see you.”

  “Why?”

  “Really, Aly?” Prince gave her a small, tired smile. “Do you have to ask?”

  “Don’t call me Aly,” Alyssa snapped automatically. “You’ve lost that privilege long ago.” She was being petty; she knew that, but she really couldn’t help it. She was emotionally exhausted and in no condition to bury her feelings.

  Prince nodded. “Touché,” he said.

  Alyssa was surprised. She had expected him to argue, shift the blame. She had expected him to justify himself. Then again, she reflected, that was probably something the old Prince would have done; this new Prince was just too confident to keep explaining herself to someone who didn’t want to hear it.

  Because that was exactly the case, Alyssa realized. She didn’t want to hear it. In fact, she didn’t want to hear anything that he might have to say.

  “I have to get back inside,” she said.

  “Wait.”

  Prince reached out quickly and grabbed her by the arm, closing his fingers around her wrist in a firm grip.

  Alyssa turned around, surprised. What did he want from her? She looked down at
his hand on her skin, and she thought that it just didn’t belong there anymore.

  “What?” she asked tartly.

  “I’m sorry, Alyssa,” Prince said. His green eyes shone with a deep, heartfelt sorrow that for a moment reminded her of the boy she had once known. “I’m so, so sorry.”

  Alyssa stared at him, not knowing what to say. And then she realized that he wasn’t talking about what had happened between them. He wasn’t talking about how he had turned his back on her and their future together. He wasn’t talking about how he had thrown away his life to consort with a bunch of outlaws.

  He was talking about her parents.

  Alyssa felt a sharp pang of pain shooting across her whole being. She tugged sharply and freed herself of his hold.

  “Thank you,” she said icily.

  “When I heard—”

  “I said, thank you,” Alyssa cut him off sharply.

  Prince sighed. “You really don’t want to talk, even for a minute?”

  “Is there anything to say?” She regarded him defiantly, daring to find some sort of common ground that they both knew didn’t exist anymore.

  He seemed to deflate for a moment as he, too, admitted defeat. “I guess not,” he said quietly.

  Alyssa stared at him for a few moments’ longer. She drank him in, fully knowing that—God willing—she wouldn’t have another chance. Then, she nodded curtly and went back inside.

  Unsurprisingly, Lynn rushed up to her as soon as she was past the threshold.

  “Oh my God!” her friend said in a half-whisper. “Are you okay?”

  Alyssa shrugged. She wanted to say, “I’m fine,” but she just didn’t have it in her.

  “I think I’m going to head home,” she said. “I’ve had enough for one day.”

  Lynn nodded. “Of course.”

  Alyssa took a deep breath and went about saying goodbye and thanking everyone for coming, which turned out to be yet another endless affair. Every once in a while, between a handshake and a hug, she would glance outside. Prince wasn’t there anymore, and she wasn’t sure whether she was happy or sad about it.

  CHAPTER SEVEN