Through The Woods

by Shannon Myers

  PD sat down on the edge of the bed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jesus, you talk too much. Are you going to make a point or just continue spouting off random animal facts?”

  I shoved my hands down into the deep pockets of my sweatpants and rocked back on my heels, looking more like a fidgeting toddler than an individual with an above-average IQ. “I just meant that penguins mate for life—for instance, they would only seek out another partner if their mate were to pass. And that’s probably only young widower penguins. Older penguins are just content to remain single and play bridge at the penguin retirement center.”

  He pressed his lips together, fighting the smile that was suddenly creeping across his face. “Is that so? And that relates to me…how?”

  I sighed. “Isn’t it obvious? Ali might be your penguin. I saw the way you looked at her and it wasn’t just because the woman’s basically a human pretzel. What happened there?”

  He stiffened and I placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m not trying to pry, I swear. It’s just sometimes when you see two people who would be perfect together, you kind of want to just smack their heads together until they see it too. You know?”

  The grin widened on his face. “I know exactly what you mean. Sometimes, we get in the way of our own happiness, don’t we Neve?”

  I sat down next to him and nodded. “Sure, I guess. I just don’t want you to spend the rest of your life regretting the decision to not be with her if she makes you feel even the tiniest bit of happiness. If she appreciates your interests and takes the time to get to know what makes you tick, then don’t throw it away. If you have nothing holding you back, then go after her, like the badass biker you are.”

  He watched me amusedly before sneezing into his handkerchief. “You have a lot of experience in this department?”

  I snorted, “What? An unhealthy obsession with other people’s love lives? Guilty.” I waved my hand toward him. “But, that’s neither here nor there. I have a plan to help you. So, when I was at the store yesterday, I got a Neti Pot. It’s supposed to help with severe allergies and congestion. You just pour it into your nose and it flushes everything out. I think this—”

  “You want me to do what? Oh, fuck no.” PD’s eyes widened and he jumped up off the bed, heading toward the stairs.

  I retrieved the box from my room and ran down after him. “It’ll help with your allergies—I promise.”

  Rooster looked up from his phone and clapped his hand on his thigh before jumping up from the dinner table. “Oh, this I gotta see.”

  PD shook his head. “No way, Neve. I’m not letting you shove something into my nose.”

  I’d grabbed the Neti Pot, along with some honey straws I saw in the checkout line. I’d read somewhere that local honey could help with allergies and with all of PD’s sneezing and carrying on, I was willing to try anything at this point.

  Him? Not so much.

  The front door opened and I turned expectantly. I quickly tried to hide my disappointment when I realized that it was only Twitch. I really needed to discuss things with Charm—sooner rather than later—I was like a rubber band that was about to snap.

  “How’s it hangin’, kid?”

  I pointed to PD. “Twitch, tell him to suck it up and let me fix his allergies.”

  Twitch came over and took the box from my hand. “Oh, PD—this is nothin’. I use one myself from time to time.”

  I looked at him in surprise before nodding authoritatively. “Good. See? Nothing to worry about. What do you have to lose?”

  PD poured two fingers of Jameson into the glass in front of him and then downed it. “Fuck—alright. But only Neve is allowed in there.”

  Rooster’s booming laugh filled the room. “Fat chance of that, fucker. I’m getting a front row seat to this.”

  Twitch rubbed his hands together. “I can give you some pointers. You okay with that, kid?”

  I grinned mischievously over at PD. “The more the merrier.”

  PD flipped me off and stomped up the stairs. “Let’s get this shit over with.”

  The two men gleefully followed him up, while I stayed back to warm the water. I hadn’t been sure if tap water was okay or not, so I’d grabbed a case of bottled water before we left the store. I warmed it up and added the salt before carefully walking upstairs.

  We gathered around the sink in PD’s bathroom as I read over the instructions. Twitch gave a few suggestions, but PD just stood frozen with the pot in his hands.

  “Um, PD? You have to put it in your nose and lean over,” I offered, but he didn’t move.

  I was going to have to distract him to calm his nerves. “So, how’d you get the name PD? What does it stand for?”

  His features relaxed and he gave me a slow smile. “It uh- well, it means, Pussy Detective. Because—”

  Rooster cut him off with a loud chuckle. “Oh hell no it doesn’t. Nice try. It stands for Pollen Detector. Charm said he could sniff out all the pollen in Colorado.”

  A vein bulged on PD’s forehead and I patted his arm. “If you try this and it works, then you’re free to call yourself PD: Pussy Detective again. Imagine what Ali will think.”

  He inserted the tip of the pot into his nose and leaned over, breathing through his mouth, as the saltwater flowed from his other nostril. Once he exhaled enough to clear the one side, we reheated more water and did the other side, all of us gathered around like anxious schoolgirls awaiting fresh gossip.

  “So?” I asked, once we finished.

  He nodded. “It didn’t suck. And I can breathe through my nose—which is pretty fucking awesome.”

  I grinned widely as Rooster hip-checked me on his way to the sink. “My turn.”

  Charm

  I thought she was in the same place.

  We were going to be freezing our asses off and then I was just gonna come right out and tell her everything. Instead, she’d looked at me with those eyes, pulling me under her spell and destroying any chance of my words coming out right.

  When I leaned in, she hadn’t pulled away—fuck, she’d practically wrapped herself around me. I’d been working up the courage to tell her about Rae and how I’d ended up here when she ended it; leaving me pretty goddamned confused. When she started rambling off dick jokes, I got the impression that I’d misjudged the damn thing entirely.

  I should’ve just let her enjoy the jump—but now that I’ve had her mouth, I want the rest of her too.

  I am completely fucked on this one.

  “Do you need a few more minutes to write in your diary or can we get this fucking meeting started?”

  I snapped the journal shut and leaned back in my chair to face Gunner. “What the fuck are you doing in here? What meeting?”

  He exhaled slowly and leaned against the doorframe of my office. “The meeting you called yesterday. I’ve got Blade’s crew outside, but he’s getting antsy and I’m getting close to putting hands on him.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. Jesus Christ. I’d fucking lost my mind over this Neve situation. “Show him in.”

  Blade sauntered in with a lit cigarette hanging from his mouth. “Charm.”

  “Blade.”

  We’d had to move the meeting to the warehouse down by Boulder—PD had confronted me over allowing other clubs in with Neve there; apparently Blade had assumed she was there to be used by anyone.

  I clenched my fists under the desk. Savages didn’t abide by rape; obviously, not every club was on the same page.

  He pulled out his switchblade and began cleaning under his nails, oblivious to the fact that part of his blade was coated in dried blood. “Been thinking about your offer and my club’s in. What? You surprised?”

  Surprised? I was shocked.

  This wasn’t just a partnership. I’d proposed a merger—his club joining ours under my command.

  I hadn’t expected him to go for it though. “Not surprised—it’s a good deal. I guess I just thought that you’d need more than a couple of days t
o think it over.”

  He put the knife down and leaned forward. “How is this gonna work? Back in the day, you guys were the Mother. Do we bow down to you now or some shit?”

  There was wariness in his tone, and rightfully so. He’d only dealt with Luck in the past. He was right not to trust me or my club fully.

  That would come with time. But first, we were going to go over my club’s rules—and that included the fact that Neve was and would always be off limits. If I didn’t have the entire town relying on me, I would’ve called the whole thing off for the mere fact that he’d tried to fuck with her.

  She might not have been mine, but I was going to keep her safe and out of the hands of men who thrived on abuse.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Things have changed, and not for the better. She’s sick. I have no idea how long she’s been hiding it from us. Bobby found her unconscious on the stairs with a large gash in her forehead.

  In a clubhouse like this, it’s a miracle that no one touched her. Luck wouldn’t have done a goddamned thing about it, but I sure as hell would have. Mac stood on guard outside while Vic sewed her head up.

  When she came to, she didn’t remember a damn thing. She just told us that she’d felt a little off this morning when she woke up, but that was it. Bobby wouldn’t make eye contact with me after that. He knows something; I can feel it.

  I’d wanted to press the subject until one of them cracked, but it was obvious that she needed some space. I decided to take her to Pearl’s for some clothes; everything seems to be falling off of her lately, even more of a sign that something terrible is happening.

  I feel helpless.

  In all my years, I’ve never not had a plan or something to fall back on. I’m completely out of my depth here; everything I love is slipping right through my fingers. The tighter I hold on, the faster everything falls away.

  “Neve.” The whisper woke me with a start and I bolted upright with a pounding heart and a sense of dread.

  “What’s wrong?” I searched for the voice in the dark.

  “Sorry to wake you, Darlin’, but we got ourselves a situation downstairs. Guardrail had a few too many.”

  I sighed and fell back into my pillow. “He’s always had a few too many, Rooster—what else is new?”

  He pulled the blankets off of me. “He crashed his bike.”

  I sat up again. “Oh my god—is he okay? Where’s Doc?”

  He grabbed my hand and pulled me from the bed. “Doc’s still gone with Charm and Gunner on a ru—club business, I mean. You’ve spent enough time shadowing him; can’t you patch him up?”

  It wasn’t until we reached the last stair that I woke up enough to realize what he was asking me to do. Sure, I’d followed Doc around from time to time when my work load allowed it, but to fill in for him? I was nowhere near ready for that.

  We reached the basement and I could hear the groans coming from the biker I’d come to regard as a father figure. I turned to Rooster. “You sure we can’t take him to a hospital—preferably one that caters to outlaws?”

  He shook his head. “I’m not sure that sort of thing even exists.”

  I tentatively approached the metal table, wishing like hell that I was still in bed. Joker and Twitch held Guardrail down by his arms, but the man continued to thrash and moan.

  “Hey, friend,” I offered lightly, “What happened here?”

  Sweat lined his brow from his struggle and he forced out through clenched teeth, “Had a little trouble navigating. My left foot took the brunt of it.”

  I grabbed a cloth and ran it under cold water before applying it to his forehead. “Were you drinking?”

  He nodded and looked away. “It’s just the way things have always been, Neve.”

  I checked him over, starting at his head, working my way down. He’d been wearing his helmet and gloves so he fared better than he should’ve with what he’d had to drink. When I got down to his ankle he jerked away from my grasp.

  “Easy there. You’re going to have to let me look at it.” His pants had been torn away from both legs when he crashed and he had road rash on the skin that was exposed on his left leg. I gave the other bikers their tasks and got to work; grabbing Doc’s go-to kit from the cabinet. I patiently picked pieces of gravel and debris from his skin with a pair of tweezers, while Rooster acted as my assistant, getting me whatever I needed to complete the job.

  “You know,” I said quietly as I worked, “an estimated eighty-eight thousand people die from alcohol-related causes every year. It’s actually the third leading preventable cause of death.” I continued cleaning the wounds as best I could, falling silent after deciding that my speech on responsible drinking was falling on deaf ears.

  “What are one and two?” Twitch asked, as he applied pressure to Guardrail’s shoulder, keeping him flat on the table. When I gave him a blank look, he elaborated, “The two leading causes of preventable—whatever you said.”

  I smiled. “Oh. Uh, nicotine and sedentary lifestyles, respectively. Alcohol is a coping mechanism, obviously, and is still the most widely abused drug out there.”

  I applied antibiotic cream and petroleum jelly before bandaging up his calf, while he looked at me in a way that was hard to describe; as if he was trying to figure me out. “How do you know so much about all of this?”

  I shrugged, while taking in the damage to his foot. “I love statistics and I guess it just stays with me.” Thankfully, someone had the foresight to remove his boot, or we would’ve had to cut it off. His ankle was grotesquely swollen and already turning blue and purple from bruising. I gently palpated along his foot, just as Doc had shown me, to feel for broken bones.

  “Do we have an x-ray machine?” Not like I would know what I was doing if we did, but it didn’t hurt to ask.

  The men shook their heads, waiting for me to make my diagnosis. I took in a slice that ran along the inside of his right calf. “Okay, I’m going to need the sewing kit to stitch up this cut. I’m not feeling any broken bones; but I think it’s safe to say that you’ve got a sprained ankle,” I paused as I remembered high school gym. “RICE—rest, ice, compression, elevation. You’re going to have to stay down here for a while unless the men can move you upstairs.”

  He clenched his jaw. “Whatever you think, Neve. So, you really think alcoholics are in the same category as drug addicts?”

  Rooster handed me the kit and I pulled what I needed from it. I’d been practicing my stitches on bananas and oranges. This was my first human case. Obviously, I was going to keep that to myself—no one wanted to be the first patient.

  I swallowed my fear and began disinfecting the leg wound, using his question as a distraction. I didn’t take offense; most everyone saw themselves as better than an addict, never realizing that with one slip they could find themselves in the exact same boat. “Well, yes. Every addiction started somewhere; some moment where things got overwhelming and instead of facing it, you turned to a vice—a drug.”

  He winced as the needle connected with his skin and I paused. “Just get it over with,” he forced out. “I’m gonna talk to keep myself from coming off the goddamned table, okay? Is that how you ended up here?”

  I bit down on the corner of my lip and bent over; carefully placing another stitch with shaky hands. Wasn’t that how I’d ended up lost in the woods? An unhealthy desire to be the best? “Something like that,” I muttered distractedly.

  “I enlisted the day I turned eighteen. That’s what the men in my family did and that’s what I wanted to do—uh, can you guys give us a minute?” The three shuffled out into the hall, leaving us alone and Guardrail continued, “Thing is, I was gonna break away from tradition and not come back. This club? It wasn’t ever in my plans.”

  I paused again and straightened up, stretching the muscles in my lower back. “What happened?”

  The journal had never mentioned anything about Guardrail—at least, not that I’d been able to decipher. It was hard to know when they wer
e only mentioned by their real names.

  He frowned. “I made it as far as the medical exam; it turned out that I had a heart defect. BAVD—Bicuspid Aortic Valve Disease—a fuckin’ mouthful to say. That alone wasn’t a disqualifier though and I thought I still had a chance. The aortic stenosis they also discovered was what ended my career before it even began. A fucking birth defect killed everything.”

  I returned my focus to his leg and the stitches, afraid to break the spell that had gotten him to open up. “Did they surgically correct it?”

  “Oh yeah, the club paid for that shit too. Got myself a nice mechanical valve. Lay your head on my chest and listen.”

  I did as he asked and heard the click; realizing that I’d heard it before, but had attributed the sound to white noise.

  “I lost my chance to serve and found myself indebted to the club all at once. They let me open a body shop down in Denver, but it was just another front for Luck’s running.”

  Something pricked my memory as I moved back down to his leg.

  Mac came back to visit his Ma and offered me a job as a mechanic at his shop down in Denver.

  He was Mac; and obviously, he hadn’t been able to hold on to even the smallest bit of freedom that the club had allowed him. “How’d you end up back here?”

  His nostrils flared and he clenched his jaw. “Some things went down that required me to give up Denver and come back home. Are we almost done here?”

  I’d struck a nerve and any good that had been done seemed to unravel until Guardrail had completely closed himself off again.

  “Let’s move you up to your room. That way someone’s close enough to check in on you every few hours.”

  He agreed and the other guys came back in just as I placed the last stitch.