Oh shit, no, no. I can't do this. Keep it together, for her. As she always has for you.
Chapter Three
Ford
Playing pool with Jinx, I see Jack's girl walk in with a friend. I've never met Jack's woman, but he said she has these black streaks in her blonde hair, says they remind him of tire streaks from a burn out. There she was. I, on the other hand, was eyeing the friend with her. The crowd was thick and the lighting was too dim for me to see what she looked like. Maybe I should find Jack, put a word in. I’m tired of club whores. Sometimes a man needs a little strange in his life.
I nail Jinx’s ass to the wall and go find Jack. Jinx stood there looking like “What the fuck.” He only had the eight ball to sink. I had three balls on the table plus the eight ball. I made all three of my balls and sunk the eight ball. Walking away, I smile at my little victory. It’s not that I enjoy winning, but putting that look on Jinx’s face is priceless.
Jack is in the back with Eli, our VP.
Leaning on the wall, I light a cigarette and wait for him to head my way. I can see Jack’s girl’s friend tossing shot after shot back. She has had at least three so far. Good, easier to woo her.
“Hey man, what’s up?” asks Jack.
“Hey Brother, I think your girl is here.”
“Sweet Melissa, I love that pussy. I told you she’d come.” He says with a smirk. I swear he is a ladies man if I ever seen one. He could talk a nun into his bed.
“She’s got a friend with her, talk her up for me, bro. I need some strange, club pussy is getting old.”
“Aight man, I got cha.” he says walking away after patting me on the back.
I grab another beer from the bar and go sit at the corner table with Jinx. I can see Jack and the girls perfect from here. Jinx is sulking in his loss of the pool game.
“I can’t believe you beat my ass, I really thought I had you, Chevy.”
Chevy, I hate that damn name. That is his way of getting back at me for beating him. I’ve had that name for years and I hate it more than I did when I first heard it. When I was prospecting for the Hell Hound’s, I would come to the club driving my Chevy Silverado. They all thought it was hilarious that my name was Ford, but I drove a Chevy. Ha. Ha. Ha. Annoying as it is, I guess it has a little ironic funny ring to it. Even after buying a Ford, they still made it a point to keep Chevy my road name. Maybe one day I’ll get used to it—but not today. I see Jack talking up the ladies. I hope he does not fuck this up for me.
Out of the corner of my eye I see Brittany coming straight for me. Shit. Shit. If that chick sees her around or touching me, she definitely won’t have anything to do with me.
“Jinx, I need an interception. Brittany. Now!” He looks at her, then back to me.
“Sure Brother, my cock's pleasure.” Getting up and smiling at me, he looks like a Cheshire cat. He grabs Brittany and heads to the back of the bar with a smack on her ass. Knowing he just saved my ass from my night going to fuck. I owe him a beer tomorrow that’s for sure. Brittany isn’t bad looking, just worn out. You can see her body has been through more fucks than a porn star. That is a hell of a fucking lot. Actually, all the whores look like that. We need to get some new pussy around here, pronto.
Being here for so many years isn’t so bad, I finally found my family. My home.
My uncle was the VP until a run gone bad last year took him from us. Damn Jackals set us up and double-crossed us with the cartel. We lost three guys that day, my uncle, Snatch, and Niner. Laying them all to rest, with the full Hell Hounds crew, hundreds of brothers came for their funerals. From Canada and Texas to eastern Ohio and the borders of Cali; we even have some across seas. We have a large club—charters all over. We’ve grown over the last thirty years. Since then, his son and my cousin, Eli has taken over as VP, he’s been a member for seven years. My cousin is a good VP. Has his head in the right place. Level-headed. He doesn’t let his rage for revenge for his father get in the way. Don’t get me wrong, the revenge feeds his smarts to attack the Jackals. It’s been a year, but we are not rushing into it blinded by rage and pain. We are waiting for the right moment. That works to our advantage. They are getting loose and cocky with their shipments. We plan to rock their whole fucking world when we attack. The time is coming and our trigger fingers are itching.
I see Jack wave me over, pulling me from my thoughts. I down the rest of my beer and leave it on the table. Prospects are gonna have a fun time cleaning this place tomorrow.
As I walk over, I see the friend has disappeared. Bathroom most likely, all that alcohol she was drinking like a fish. I get next to Jack slapping him on his back. “Hey bro, what’s up?”
“You know Melissa right?”
“Not formally, Hey Melissa, I’m Chevy.” I say to her and she turns from facing the other way.
No way. Can’t be. Shit, fuck me!
Melissa, as in Harley’s Melissa? It’s been at least fifteen years since I’ve seen her. Even then it was at a gas station and she just burned holes into me with her evil eyes. I can’t believe this is Jack’s Melissa. Wow. No fucking way! Abort this fucking mission now.
The look on her face says she did not forget me. Her expression goes from surprised to scowling, quickly. I see she didn't let go of her hate for me.
“We’ve met. Haven't we? Chevy, was it?” She says to me in a hissy voice.
She has hated me since I joined the Hell Hounds—since that day at the park with Harley. Shit. I can’t believe this is happening. I should have let Brittany drag me away when I had the chance.
“Yeah, how are you Melissa? It’s been a long time.” I sigh.
I got to get the hell out of this conversation, fast. I don’t see anything coming out of this that’s any good. As I think of an escape, Jack butts in. “How do you know each other?”
“He knocked up my best friend and took off from her and his responsibilities. Did I cover it, Dickhead?”
Jack just looks dumbfounded. Fuck. I got to get out of here, now. Shaking my head I turn to walk away, Jack grabs my shoulder. "Hey, bro, I didn't know you had a kid?"
I turn to face him. “Had being the key word, the mom has it." With that I walked away. No one in the club knew I had a child. It wasn't their fucking business. Besides, I couldn't help but feel ashamed. I walked out when Harley needed me most—when the kid needed me most. Fuck it. Can't change the past; stop dwelling on it.
I need air. All of a sudden this bar is too damn small, not enough oxygen in here for me.
Standing there sucking in all the air I could, someone walks right into me. Damn, can I not catch a fucking break tonight? I look down, it's a woman, good because I would have knocked a guy’s teeth out, drunk or not. Locking eyes with her; it cannot be her—here, now.
“Harley.” I whisper, I have not said her name in so long, it tastes strange on my tongue. I say it every day referring to a bike or shop. But to her—referring to her, it’s so alien on my lips. She is just as beautiful as I remember; green emerald eyes that shine in the darkest room. Her long black hair drops in curls down her back. She’s only five-five, maybe shorter, her body is average. But to me, it’s one of a kind. Her breasts are large, just perfect for her tiny, curvy body. I want to grab her and hold her against me. As my eyes roll over her body, my cock twitches in my pants. I bring my eyes back to her face.
Her expression is plain, no emotion. She turns on her heel and leaves me there, stunned. I can’t believe she is here. I knew her father died, but she didn’t show for her mother’s funeral, so I figured she wouldn’t show for his. I don’t have time to think, my feet move after her.
*******************************************
Harley
Sitting there with Lissa, drinking, I’m feeling my emotions go deeper with every drink. I’m starting to feel better. Jack walks over. His cut says Hell Hound. I just drink faster, I can’t abandon Lissa with as much as she has done for me. I swallow my emotions one shot at a time. Jack introduces himself
and I do back.
“Harley, I would have to say that name is the sexiest name I’ve ever heard.” He purrs.
“Thanks.” Lissa and Jack start talking, I sit there acting interested in their conversation, when my head is so far from their words. I hope he is not here; I don’t need this—him. My time here has been enough. I’m ready to go home, to my Washington home with Bronx. I knew coming home would be a bad idea. Coming here was a worse idea.
I’ll indulge for a while, if anything it will pass time I suppose. "Thanks for the meet, you two have fun. I'll see you later Lissa."
"Okay, babe. You sure you’re okay?" she asks with worry.
I nod. "I'll walk. I need the air." I squeeze her hand.
I got to get out of here—now. I go to get up, and head to the door as fast as my feet will take me. I need air, lots of it. The alcohol is hitting me harder than I intended, but oh well. I needed the comfort; it did calm my nerves a little, just not my thoughts. That Hell Hound cut raddled me to my core.
The alcohol has made me a bit clumsy. As I step outside, I fill my lungs with clean oxygen. Inhaling as if I've been under water for an eternity. What was I thinking coming here? At least it ended with no sign of him. That was my goal after I decided I needed to support Lissa. Easy enough. Now to just enjoy the walk home. I miss Bronx.
Knocking into someone, I look up and there he is. "Harley." He whispers. Ford in the flesh. I look at him, in shock, this cannot be happening—after all this time, he is right here in front of me. I feel my legs ready to give out. He’s more handsome than he was years ago as a young man. How is that possible? His face, more mature with age and experience. He’s gotten taller; I’d say six-six now, if not taller. His eyes are still a deep ocean blue I can drown in. His hair is still a dirty blonde, cut like a military man. He has a bit of scruff on his face, making him look more manly and sexy. His shoulders are so broad, I wonder if he works out or if God granted him with them. He looks like a modern day Adonis—a real life, walking sex God.
My body is reacting to him as it used to. Trying to ignore that, I decide that I’ve got to get out of here. His face looks just as I feel; disbelief and shock.
What does it matter, I need to get away—now. I suck in as much oxygen as my lungs will let me, almost to the point of burning. My head is spinning, I don’t know if it’s from the drinks or the sudden unexpected reunion.
I push forward, determined to get out of here and away from him. I can hear foot steps behind me, I pick up my speed. Can he not get the hint that I do not want to talk to him, let alone look at him?
I feel a hand around my arm. “Just stop, Harley.”
I jerk my arm away and turn to him. “Don’t ever touch me.”
And with that I start walking again. I feel him walking beside me. I can feel his eyes burning a hole in the side of my head. I stop. “Stop following me. I clearly don’t want to talk to you.”
“We are going to talk.” He says in that sexy voice. There goes my body, betraying me against his voice, giving me a warm tingle all over my body.
“I have nothing to say to you Ford.” Enjoying the taste of his name rolling off my tongue—I have not said his name in so long. “Harley--” The nerve of this man, rage takes over my entire body, all I see is red right now. I didn’t even let him finish his words. Hell no!
“You have no right to talk to me, leave me alone.”
I turn, desperate to get away from him. He jerks on my arm again, with rage already flowing through me. I turn, rear back with all my strength, and punch him, right square in the cheek with my left hand; throwing all my weight into the assault. I feel my hand instantly throb with pain. Ouch! Holy hell that’s what it feels like to hit someone. I can tell my hand is probably fractured. Shit!
He just stands there, looking at me. Not even a hint of anger in his eyes that he just got hit; more like stunned. Yes, fucker I just hit you. I’d do more if it didn’t hurt so much.
“Let’s go, now.” He’s pulling me toward the parking lot. Not letting his grip loosen on my arm at all, I fight and squirm, trying to get away.
“Where are you taking me?” I demand.
“Emergency Room.” he says matter-of-factly. I fight against him, jerking and pulling, trying to free myself from his grip. He just tightens his hand and walks as if pulling a rag doll. I gave up halfway through the parking lot. I'm out of energy to fight. My hand hurts like hell.
We pass the bikes, heading toward the trucks and cars. He unlocks a huge, lifted, black Ford 350. It sits so high off the ground. At least three or four feet.
"I thought bikers rode bikes?" I snap, being a smart ass. Oh, well.
"Can't hang onto me with a broken hand. Besides, I don't trust you not to throw yourself off." He's right, I would; anything to get away. I do need a doctor, being a nurse for so long, I know some serious damage can happen if I let it go untreated. Sighing, I turn to look up at the truck.
I'm confused on how I am supposed to get in this enormous thing with a busted up hand. Without any warning, he lifts me up into the passenger seat as if I’m lighter than air. He hops in the driver side and we head to the hospital, without any words. Good, I don’t want to talk. The pain in my hand has me only focused on my hand, thank goodness. If I had a rational thought, I’d jump out of this damn truck and run; put as much distance between us as possible.
*******************************************
Pulling up to the Emergency doors, Ford helps me out of his monster with four wheels. I walk so fast, I almost fall stepping over the curb of the sidewalk to the entrance. I don't bother looking back because I can feel his eyes watching me as I walk.
There is an older nurse working the desk. I spot the waiting room sitting empty. Thank God! Fast service is needed right now. My hand is throbbing. I sign in, do the normal paper work, and get taken back right away. "Right this way Ms. Brookes."
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ford walking in and taking a seat in the waiting room. His bad ass biker self looks out of place sitting in a waiting room for any reason. His cut clear as day to anyone who glanced at him. His muscular body taking a whole two-person, little love-seat kind of chair. I wondered if he fit uncomfortably—I hope so. He shouldn't be here. I appreciate the ride, but that was all it was. I don't want to talk or even look at him a moment longer. Okay, I could look at him all day and night long, but that's not the point. Sighing, I turn to walk through the door to the rooms.
Sitting on the edge of the bed in one of the rooms, I feel out of place. I'm usually the one taking care of people, not the other way around. So wrong.
"The doctor will be right with you." The nurse walks out, closing the door behind her.
First time I've been alone since the funeral earlier today. I welcome the loneliness. No-one to surprise me, or fake smile to. I can breathe finally. Running over the night in my mind, it's been one hell of a day that's for sure. A knock comes to the door and the doctor walks in.
"Hello, Ms. Brookes. I'm Dr. Mitchell. What brings you in tonight?" I hate when doctors ask what’s going on, when the nurses already ask the patients for the doctor. Seems they don't ever read the files—it's really annoying.
"I have either broken my hand or fractured it—it's starting to swell."
"I see. May I?" I nod.
“Looks like you may have something going on in there. Let’s get some x-rays to see what’s going on. I'll get the nurse to bring you some medicine for the pain.”
"Thank you, doctor."
He walks out the door and the nurse comes in a few minutes later with pain medicine. After about twenty minutes, the pain medicine hits me. No more pain and no more worry. I start to drift to never-never land. Sleep calls to me. I'm exasperated; completely spent. I close my eyes, thinking I need to go home. Back to where there is no Hell Hounds, no funerals, and no Ford. Yeah, I need to get back to Washington, to normalcy. Where only my memories haunt me of why I left this place.
Ford pops in my head; he's i
n the waiting room. Will he leave me alone so easily? I have a feeling he won't. Shit. I need him gone. I could sick Bronx on him. However, that plan seems a bit messy. I could head home tomorrow. I can sell my parent’s house from Washington, have their belongings put in storage back home too; go through it when I'm ready. This idea is getting better already. I’ve taken off four weeks to take care of the arrangements for my father and sell the house. So I still have time. I've only been here just shy of three days. Sounds easy enough. That's the plan—go home. Leave all this in the past where it belongs; no use digging up old memories. At the end of the day, you can't change a memory.
It's settled, back to Washington I go. No more Branchwood. No more painful flashbacks. No more damn Hell Hounds. Just bury it like you do everything else. I let sleep take over my tired mind and body.
The nurse walks in and helps me sit up. “Where are we going?” I ask, feeling groggy.
“It’s okay. We are going to take you to get your x-rays.”
The x-rays take about ten minutes and I’m back in the room waiting on the results. My mind floods again with Ford. I close my eyes to relax my body and hopefully my mind.
"Ms. Brookes." Huh? Where am I? Why am I being waken up formally? Then the smell hits me before my surroundings do—the hospital. All hospitals have this sterile, yet, stale smell about them. Unnerving. I'm used to it. It's my work environment. But being on the other side of things, sucks. They are uncomfortable and cold, always cold. Makes you want to never come back to one, no matter the medical issue. I look up to see a nurse standing over me. I must have fallen asleep for a while. "How long have I been asleep?"
“A little over two hours. I’ll go grab the doctor since you are awake now. Your results are in.” The nurse turned and left the room in search of the doctor.
Delayed Love Page 4
