by Ana Jolene
I shrugged. “So much is riding on this one moment that I allowed it to rule my thinking.” I couldn’t let a simple thing like my need for revenge mess this up for us.
When the club’s sergeant at arms arrived, I shot Beck an unapologetic look. “You ready?”
A nod. “Let’s do this.” Just like that, the tension between us dissipated. “You better go. Jim should reach the zone in a few minutes.” Nodding, I started my engine and watched as Kitt and Beck folded themselves into the vehicle. With one last look back, Lucky and I tore after Jim, hoping to reach him before the Phantoms did.
The last minute switch had delayed us. Those few precious seconds could fuck up this entire operation so we gunned it, stepping hard on the gas. The moonlight provided limited visibility in the dark. But I could still make out the white moving truck parked on the side of the road.
The driver’s side door of the truck was wide open and a pang of fear hit me. Were we too late? Our headlights were an instant giveaway as we approached but in that flash of light, I found Jim spread out on the ground, hands behind his head as Anthony Cavezza held him at gunpoint.
The obnoxious sounds of our engines signaled the rest of the Phantoms of our presence. As predicted, they lifted their guns, aiming for our chests.
Kitt and Beck flew by in the car, raining fire on the Phantoms. Bodies dropped and I took their distraction as an opportunity.
I headed straight for Cavezza. The crow bar met his skull in a satisfying crunch before one of his minions aimed and fired. Lucky took him down a second later. The shot meant for me had missed, but now Jim clutched his upper arm where blood seeped through his fingertips.
“Get out of here!” I yelled. Thankful we had made it, Jim popped back up to his feet and ran back to the truck.
Cavezza moved after him. “No!” I tackled him right as Jim drove away with the cargo. With the truck gone, Cavezza flipped his anger on me, grabbing me by the neck and slamming me onto the unforgiving road. With my breath knocked out of me, I was no match for the battering of blindingly swift punches to my face and skull.
I clamped one hand down on his wrist, twisting out of his hold and wrenching his arms back until the sounds of bones cracking sounded in my ears. Even then Cavezza only grunted as he pivoted around, trying to regain the advantage. I slammed down my boot heel into his kneecap, delivered another hard blow to his midsection, and then another hit to the side of his head again.
With him on his knees and panting, I yanked his head up. Blood trickled down the side of his head where my last blow had caught him.
His laughter bubbled up. “That was quite the ruse.”
“You like that?” I snarled. “You’re not the only one who likes surprises.”
“Brennan underestimated you.” He clutched the side of his head where I had clubbed him.
“And that’s why he’s dead. Maybe you should learn from his mistakes.”
With that smile still in place, the Phantoms’ leader shook his head. “He and I had mutual interests. It put us on the same team.”
I looked around me, seeing Kitt, Lucky, and Beck handling themselves well against his men. “Where’s your team now?” Brennan was already dead. Whatever team he had created was no longer there to stand by him. “The Phantoms will never overthrow Glory MC. Ward Four will burn to the ground before taking you as their leader.”
On a roar, Cavezza tackled me to the ground, pinning me there before the blows landed. One particular blow had me seeing stars for a minute before Lucky’s shouts echoed in my ear. Turning towards the sound of his voice, the crow bar from earlier caught my attention. Immediately, my hand shot out to reach it. I howled as a direct blow landed. Excruciating pain seized me as Cavezza added more pressure to it. Teeth gritted against the need to pass out, my fingertips grasped the crow bar and shoved deep. The Phantom’s eyes popped open as I drove the end of the crow bar farther into his midsection.
Cavezza stumbled back, clutching his stomach as if he could keep the blood from spreading before listing off to the side. I kicked him the rest of the way off me and stood over him, watching as the life faded behind his eyes. Liquid darkness spread out from beneath him, soaking my boots.
* * *
Kitt laughed when he caught a glimpse of my face. “Nice shiner.” I grinned through bloody teeth. Grabbing the bottom of my shirt, I used it to wipe my mouth. Doing so, hurt. Damn, my face felt like someone had tenderized it. Kitt leaned in and examined my nose. “Broken?”
“Bruised.”
He grunted and handed me a canteen. I took a few gulps, swished the water around in my mouth before spitting it out. “Get your ribs checked out,” he advised. Then he looked down at the crow bar still embedded in the Phantom’s midsection. “I guess you guys couldn’t work it out, huh?”
Pain shot up my ribs as I shrugged. “He was pretty dead set on getting his way.”
Kitt barked out a laugh. “Well, the son of a bitch is definitely dead now.” He clapped me on the back before turning to address the others around us. “All right, let’s get this mess cleaned up.”
We spent the next two hours digging graves for the Phantoms in a hidden area. The prospects made quick work of wrapping up the bodies before dumping them in to the craters we made in the earth, removing any distinct cuts that could leak their identity. Then it was a matter of packing the dirt back on top of them.
I had lived long enough in Glory MC to know that when a war started between clubs, it rarely ended without a lot of bloodshed. Killing the leader of the Phantoms would only eliminate the immediate threat to Indy and the club, but tonight would most likely create more animosity between Glory MC and the Phantoms. If anything, a bigger war was brewing, and it was only a matter of time before disaster hit.
Indy
Later, when Hastie returned, he walked straight for the bathroom. I had been a ball of anxiety waiting for him, conjuring up countless worst-case scenarios that consumed my mind. Worry gnawed at my insides like a vulture, turning me into a bloody mess, so seeing him step through the door in one piece made me breathe out in relief.
When he came out of the shower, beads of water still clung to his tanned skin. His dark spiky lashes lifted to reveal intense green. I wondered what those eyes had seen tonight. How much violence had he witnessed? How much had he dealt?
He sported a split lip and numerous bruises. I knew that a man dead set on killing him had put them there. But I refused to focus on the negative. His presence here was proof enough that he was the stronger one, that he had survived the danger and made it through.
For me.
I expected Hastie to speak. To ask me if I was okay like he seemed to do on a habitual schedule but he didn’t then. He simply wrapped his hand behind my head and brought his lips down to mine without a word.
We fell into bed, me clutching him as he revered my body. He didn’t mention anything and I never asked. Tonight, it was all about freedom. Just the two of us with no threat of danger, nothing to stop us from being together anymore.
His lips descended on mine in a heated possession, seeking entrance. I opened my mouth, allowing the swift intrusion of his tongue. I corded my fingers through his hair, bringing him closer to me, not wanting anything else between us.
My clothes came off, piece by piece. Hastie lowered his body to mine and covered me, placing soft kisses alongside my neck. “Please,” I said when he didn’t immediately enter me.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.” And I believed he never would. Not when he took such extreme measures to keep me safe.
Drawing up, he placed himself between my spread thighs. In one fluid motion, he joined us, breathing out as he settled himself balls deep.
Feeling that exquisite stretch was a blissful state I never wanted to forget. I wanted to feel this forever, the perfect fit of our bodies, the slow drag of sensation across my spine, the piercing pleasure of his mouth on my nipples as his body built that slow, sweet agony.
>
The tears, when they came, weren’t bad. They were just the breaking down of walls, signaling so many things; the destruction of barriers, the unity of hearts, the loss of torment that I carried around with me for too long. Hastie pulled back. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”
Shaking my head, I pulled him down to me, connecting our lips together again. “Just the opposite actually.” Hastie was healing me, bit by broken bit.
THIRTY
The Tempter
Indy
A more perfect day had yet to come. As the sun cast an orangey glow over us, I dismounted and adjusted the top of my dress. It was tight fitting, sticking to my soft curves and making me feel hot. Wearing black leather may have not been the best idea during a solar flare, but it was what Hanna had wanted so I’d suck in my gut and forfeit oxygen for an evening just for her.
Hastie had shaven off his stubble, giving him a more youthful look. As he hopped off his bike and swung his intense green gaze my way, his eyes flashed hot. “Damn, baby. Every time I look at you, my heart nearly stops. You look gorgeous.”
I scrunched my nose and looked down at my cleavage. “You don’t think it looks too tight on me?”
“You’re perfect.”
My gaze drifted to his broad shoulders. He wasn’t looking too bad himself. The leather cut he wore proudly displayed the hooded female that was The Tempter. It certainly fit the theme of the night.
Black leather and skulls was Hanna’s way of embracing the motorcycle club lifestyle and on her big day, the woman had gone all out. All the men wore their cuts, which proved to be a sight especially as they stood by their bikes all perfectly lined up.
Taking my hand, Hastie led me to where the others were all waiting for the ceremony to start. Lucky turned as we approached, a drink already in his hand. “Hot damn,” he said as he took in my short dress. “Maybe you need to ditch Hastie and take me on for a ride.” The smile responsible for causing mass hysteria and panty-dropping made an appearance and beside me, Hastie growled. I flushed at the compliment, accepting it with a smile.
Members of Glory MC congregated in a beautifully decorated area. Since the flares, it was difficult to find fresh fruit, let alone fresh flowers and I wondered how Hanna had managed this. The place was surrounded by lush blood-red roses, reminding me of the time before the flares six years ago.
A pagoda sat front and center, a grand display of classic beauty, but the blood-red roses gave it a gothic feel; beautiful with a touch of edge. As we settled, music began to play and we all stood as the procession began. Women, close friends of the club and the bride, strutted down the aisle as if they were in a fashion show.
I had to admit, I loved the gothic touch to everything. The black giant bows cinching them in the waist transformed the dresses from sweet to sultry. However, it was their matching shoes that made me bite my lip in envy. Classic white pumps with skull hardware gave it that edgy feel. I smiled, knowing that the touch was Hanna’s doing.
One by one they passed until the stunner of them all appeared. Hanna looked gorgeous with her hair done in a 50’s pinup look, framing her face in loose waves. Her makeup was dark, smoky, and elegant, drawing attention to her bedroom eyes. But the surprise was the deep cut of her backless dress, showing off her fresh ink. ‘Property of Glory’ spanned her back, shoulder to shoulder in elegant script.
Glory MC said everything with their ink. It made me feel naked, having nothing on my skin. But Hanna’s devotion rang loud and clear with the fresh piece on her back. Simply put, the girl was a knockout and every man promptly forgot about the women in tight leather dresses and focused their attention solely on the bride. A glance at Knuckle and I knew he was thinking he was the luckiest bastard on earth.
Even though Hanna and Knuckle wanted a traditional wedding, Glory MC was hard pressed to follow the rules to the tee. The old custom was more of a guideline and they picked and chose what they’d do and what they wouldn’t. So it was perfectly fitting to see Hanna walk gracefully between two rows of Harley Davidsons before she reached the pagoda. Of course the motorcycles would be part of this special event.
Knuckle took her smaller hands in his and brought them to his lips for a kiss. It was impossible not to feel the happiness she was feeling as it sprouted from her in all directions. It made me want to reach out and grab some to keep for myself.
Just as important as ink was to Glory MC, words and vows held the same importance. Instead of reciting words from a Bible, their vows were enough to show their loyalty. Reverent words were spoken, words that bounded and words that showed devotion. Knuckle had vowed his life to Glory MC when he entered the club and now he was vowing to give his heart to the woman before him.
As Hanna and Knuckle pledged their lives to one another in this old tradition, Hastie wrapped his fingers over mine. I realized then that tears of happiness were shining in my eyes. To keep from bawling outright, I focused my gaze on where our hands met. The tattoo inked on Hastie’s fingers said it all: R.I.D.E.
You lived or died for that ride. Like me, Hanna was in it for the rest of her life.
There was truth to Hastie’s words when he said he didn’t know if he could ever walk away from Glory MC. I could understand that feeling now. The club had become a family where the brothers lived and died for each other. And the women were their only other loves next to the club and their bikes.
After Hanna and Knuckle sealed their vows with a kiss, they strode together for the first time, bounded by hearts through the row of motorcycles. This time the roaring of every engine greeted them as the guests saluted the newly married couple. It was deafening. With the cheers and engines, you would have thought the world was ending. But for Hanna and Knuckle, this was only the beginning.
As the ceremony concluded, the real party started as dusk rolled in. A classic hog roast brought in the guests. Alcohol flowed and a rock band was the main source of entertainment. When we finally got a chance to greet the married couple, Hanna had a big smile on her face. “Oh my God, my feet are about to fall off!”
“But you look amazing!”
“Thanks, darling. I bet Hastie needs a break from beating all the dogs off you with a stick. You’re looking hot tonight!”
Hastie grinned. “You’d think they’d know to keep their paws off, but . . .” he trailed off, shaking his head before shooting a glare at a prospect who was watching us. Angel’s eyes grew wide when he realized he’d been caught staring and scurried away. When Hastie turned back to us, the charm had returned. “Congratulations, by the way,” he said as Hanna embraced him.
“Thank you. Oh, and by the way, your father wants to see you.”
Hastie lifted a brow. “Now? On his wedding night?”
“It’s your lucky night, too.” She flashed a smile and then was swept away by other guests, leaving Hastie in confusion.
He turned to me expectantly. “What the hell does that mean?”
“Don’t look at me. He’s your father.”
Right on cue, Knuckle’s voice boomed through the music. “Church meeting, son!”
“Now?”
“Yeah. Now. Hurry the fuck up,” he called over his shoulder. “Oh, and tell the others.”
Hastie drew a hand through his dark hair. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Then he turned to me. “Sorry, babe. I’ve gotta go.” Dimples appeared with his grin. “I promise I won’t make it a habit of leaving you at club events.”
I laughed, remembering the time at Lucky’s hog roast. “It’s fine. Go.”
“I love you, babe.”
“Love you.”
“Please say no to any sexual advances you get while I’m gone.”
I grinned mischievously. “No promises.” With a wink, I turned away from him, heading straight for the punch bowl. Behind me, I heard Hastie’s growl.
Hastie
A makeshift meeting room was made between two fire cans as far from the partying as possible. “What the hell is going on?” I asked as Knuckle
approached.
“Can we hurry this up?” Lucky called out. “I’ve got a hot piece of ass waiting for me.”
“Shut up, playboy,” Kitt said as he puffed on a cigar. “No one wants to hear about your conquests.”
“Jealous?” he shot back.
“Jesus Christ,” Knuckle cut in, annoyed. “Do we have to do this every time?”
“Do what?” Kitt and Lucky asked in unison.
“Never mind.” His eyes lifted to me. “It’s time that we addressed some outstanding Glory biz.”
“What else is there to do? We took down Cavezza. Unless the Phantoms choose to retaliate, we’re good.”
He approached me and hung his arm off my shoulder. “There’s one more thing. We need to appoint a new vice-prez.”
With all the shit that had been happening with Brennan, the Phantoms, and the wedding, we still hadn’t picked someone to take Newt’s place. I think in a way everyone was a little reluctant to see him replaced since it meant that he was never coming back. It made his death feel more real. For a lot of us, grief still hovered like a thundercloud. “We’re voting now?” I asked.
“You got a better time to do this? We’ve waited long enough.”
True. Normally, a new vice-prez would have been chosen immediately. We couldn’t leave a hole like that in our hierarchy. It would only lead to leaks and trouble in our future. “So who’s going to be the lucky man?” Lucky asked, impatience riding him.
Knuckle slid his eyes to me, his proud smirk telling me all that we needed to know. “What about you?” he suggested.
“Me?”
“Yeah. Why not?”
I scanned my brothers and, one by one, they nodded in support of this idea.
“Wait, wait,” I called out, arms outstretched. “Am I really who you want as vice-prez? Why not Beck?” Though he wasn’t an Original, Beck had been in Glory MC longer than I had.
The sergeant at arms shook his head. “You’re made for that position, brother. Besides,” he said as he took another draw from his joint. “You’re heir apparent.”
