Motorcycle Man

by Kristen Ashley

  “Tyra –”

  “I’ve had five lovers.”

  Tack blinked and his head went back slightly.

  Then he asked, “What?”

  “Five. Carefully chosen. Men I could work with. Men I thought, since I knew they weren’t perfect, they would become that.”

  “No one’s perfect, baby,” he interjected.

  “Please listen to me,” I whispered and he slightly lifted his chin to communicate he acquiesced to my request so I continued. “I promised myself, as a little girl, that I would settle for nothing less than my dream man. Nothing less. It was crazy. I’ve thought on it and I don’t even know why I vowed that to myself. I just did. Girls do that, sure. Then the reality of life seeps in and they get over it. I never did. My dream man or nothing. So I looked for him my whole life. I was going to live that dream, I would settle for nothing less. So I had nothing until that night at Ride when I met you.”

  I felt more of his heavy weight settle into me and his thumb swept my jaw as he whispered, “Red –”

  “And I know you think I’m vulnerable, Tack. And I know you understand you have to teach me how to live in your world. But I’m not so stupid as to be partying with a bunch of rough and tumble bikers in the forecourt of a garage, drinking tequila and getting laid and through that convince myself the man I’m with is perfect, the man I’d been looking for, my dream man because I’m desperate to find him or the sex was great or I was drunk. The perfect I was looking for wasn’t perfection. The perfect I was looking for was the one. And he was you.”

  His hand pressed in as he murmured, “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, baby.”

  “Then you kicked me out of your bed without even a kiss good-bye.”

  “Christ, baby,” he growled.

  “And then you were a jerk. And I couldn’t believe I was so wrong about you. Then you weren’t a jerk. Then you were again. And, looking back, I didn’t know I was doing it but I’ll admit right now that you’re right. I was playing games. I was doing it because I was testing you because if I was going to settle on the one I had to be sure he was… the one.”

  “Tyra –”

  “You passed,” I whispered and his eyes heated as his face got closer, his hand shifting to cup my jaw and I finished, “Then last night, you failed.”

  His head jerked back.

  “What?”

  “You put your hand to my throat and shoved me against the wall.”

  “Tyra –”

  “I’ll accept beer and tequila and eating chips out of a bag and dip out of jars and ten pounds of extra weight,” I told him. “I’ll accept people smoking pot and making out hot and heavy all around me. I’ll even do it, if I’m in the mood. Though maybe not the pot,” I carried on. “I’ll accept your brothers getting their rocks off whenever they want with whoever they want because that’s the way of your world and also, because you’re right, it’s none of my business. And lastly, having had time to think about it, it’s the way of any world. Men cheat, women do too. It happens everywhere, not just with bikers. Though, I must say, I don’t ever want to see it again in the flesh,” I shared and kept going. “And I’ll accept essentially being a second class citizen in your biker world but only if I’m treated with respect to my face and that shit does not come home. I’ll even accept rivers of blood because a man like you has to do what you have to do and part of the reason why you were the one is because you’re a man like you.”

  I pulled in breath, held his eyes and finished.

  “What I will not accept is being shoved against the wall, a car or even a pillow with your hand at my throat.”

  To this, he replied immediately, “But your pulse is there, baby.”

  My head jerked and I felt my brows shoot together because his soft response was not anywhere near what I expected.

  “Pardon?” I whispered.

  “Did I hurt you?” he asked.

  “That isn’t the point.”

  “Yeah, darlin’, it is. Now answer, did I hurt you?”

  “No,” I whispered.

  “And I won’t,” he replied. “Ever,” he went on firmly. “Not like that,” he concluded.

  “Tack –”

  “Found my sister dead. OD.”

  I blinked in shock at his words, the change in subject and, well, his freaking words!

  Then I whispered, “What?”

  “Dead. It was me who was with her, me who found her. Felt her throat, no pulse. I gotta tell you, Red, there is nothin’, not one thing in the world worse than puttin’ your hand to the throat of someone you love and… feelin’… nothin’.”

  Oh my God.

  “Tack –” I breathed.

  “Rush was already born before she died but first thing I did when Tab was born was wrap my fingers around her throat to feel her pulse.”

  Oh God.

  “Handsome –” I whispered.

  But my time to talk was done.

  I knew this when Tack kept talking.

  “I grew up in the life. My Dad was in a Club. His was different than Chaos. Started by veterans. Pissed. Jacked up. They had their reasons and I don’t got their experiences so I don’t judge. But his Club was about brotherhood, the end. Not country, not blood, but loyalty to your brothers. They thought country fucked them over so that no longer factored. Blood came second place but only if the biker was the kind of man where his old lady or kid meant somethin’ to him. And they weren’t about freedom to live your life the way you want even if that way is raisin’ hell. They were radicals. They were into anything and everything, serious, whacked out shit, all of it. And everything they did was to fuck The Man.” His eyes held mine, they were intense, drilling into mine and his lips kept speaking. “And, ‘cause ‘a that shit, my Dad’s doin’ a long fuckin’ stretch, life for double homicide.”

  Ohmigod!

  “Yeah,” he muttered, watching me closely. “That a good thing to share when you’re gettin’ to know a sweet, feisty woman who you know’s gonna mean something to you?”

  Oh God!

  “Honey –”

  “My Dad,” he cut me off, “was about the brotherhood, not blood. Spent my life watchin’ him knock my mother around. Spent my life knowin’ he fucked around on her whenever he wanted, wherever he wanted and he did not give one shit that she or his kids knew. Spent that time vowin’, I got a good woman, which my Mom was in the beginning, that I would never, not ever, do that shit.”

  His eyes were hard, resolute and I kept silent because I figured it was now “later” so I had to take what was coming to me.

  And I wanted it.

  So I kept quiet and took it.

  “Got an older brother,” he kept going. “He hit eighteen, he joined the Air Force. Got the fuck out. Dad was in prison by then and Mom had convinced herself she wasn’t worth shit so she just kept hookin’ up with shitheel biker after shitheel biker that treated her like Dad or worse. Don’t blame my brother for gettin’ the fuck out. Do blame him for never turnin’ back. Didn’t hear from him then, don’t now, don’t even know where the fuck he is. He left me and Kimmy to that. By the time I was free, I just wanted out so bad, I couldn’t see anything else. So I got on my Dad’s old Harley, took off and left her to that too.”

  He was still struggling with that decision, it was clear on his face. He wasn’t hiding it from me. And it hurt to witness.

  So I slid my hands up, wrapped my fingers around his neck and whispered, “Baby.”

  Tack was in the zone because he showed no response that I’d even spoken and kept talking.

  “Searchin’, that was what I was doin’. Pissed off at the world ‘cause ‘a my shitty life, scared as shit I had my Dad in me, searchin’ for somethin’ that would prove that wrong, lead me to a better life. Somethin’ to do to get that poison out of my system. Somewhere where I belonged. Found Chaos. Back then, they were a good Club, about livin’ life, havin’ a good time doin’ it and raisin’ hell, all of which I wanted, the last I needed. They sold po
t. They had the garage as a front. And they were about the brotherhood but also blood and country. Not a lot of places in this world you can ride free and do the shit we liked to do. America is one of them. They appreciated that. That isn’t to say that they abided by all her laws but that was their choice and it was a choice they could take because we live in America.”

  He pulled in breath and was talking quieter when he spoke again.

  “But the first Chaos party I went to, old ladies were there, kids. Later ones, yeah, they got rowdy and shit went down but that first one was about family. I liked that. I liked the way the brothers were with their women, their kids. I liked the shit they had to say about what the Club was about, what the brotherhood meant. So I found where I belonged and became a recruit.”

  “I’m glad you found that, handsome,” I said softly.

  “Me too,” he agreed. “But then I got my cut and was let into the way the Club was goin’ and I was in, no goin’ back even if I really didn’t fuckin’ agree with the path they’d turned down. They kept goin’, meant I was followin’ in my father’s footsteps. But these were my brothers. So I kept my mouth shut, did my bit but planned for the future, talked the Club into explorin’ different avenues while they made their way down that path, just in case they got their shit together and veered off. Didn’t work but I kept at it, met Naomi, got her knocked up with Rush, married her ass and she got what she wanted. She was born an old lady. She loved the life. She bullshitted me, a miracle how she could do that while suckin’ my cock, as I told her where I felt the Club should be and she said she was with me all the way. She knew before she got deep into it with me where my mind was at and she threw her hat in my ring. And when Kimmy died, she knew I’d come back full of fire to make that change and she acted like I never fuckin’ told her when practically every night I’d talk about it, in our bed before we went to sleep. She liked drippin’ in the rose gold I could give her ‘cause ‘a what the Club was into. She liked havin’ a decent house because she didn’t grow up in one. She liked quiet, she liked the flow, she did not have what it takes to stand by her man. A follower needs one kind of woman in his bed, a leader another. She’s the woman of a follower. She mighta thought she had what it took or even hoped she did but she didn’t. She only had what it takes to hold him down. And that has not changed. Her old man Pipe used to be a decent guy. He’s just weaker than me. She didn’t delay in draggin’ his ass down, he didn’t fight it, that’s where he is and, unless he gets shot of her ass, that’s where he’ll always be.”

  Well that fully explained Naomi and made me think even less of her which was quite a feat.

  “What path was the Club on?” I asked quietly and Tack focused on me.

  Then he rolled to my side and put his hands to my pits, pulling me up further in the bed before he shifted up beside me, rolled again, to his back so I was on top, chest to chest.

  He lifted a hand, pulled the side of my hair back and continued talking.

  “The Club ran drugs, babe,” he said quietly, my body locked and I stared at him. “Not sales. Safe transport. And doin’ that, they did all that went with it. The path got darker and darker, the Club got deeper and deeper and I didn’t like it even before my Mom called and told me Kimmy was fucked up.”

  Right, okay, first things first.

  “Tell me about Kimmy,” I urged.

  Tack pulled in breath through his nostrils and I already knew the end was not a happy one. I still braced when he prepared by sifting his fingers through my hair and then pulling it away from my face again and burying his hand in it before he continued.

  “You live our life, unless you develop a tough skin, that shit’ll eat you alive. I thought Kimmy had a tough skin. She was hard, seen it all, done it all by the age of twelve. Least that was the way she acted. I was wrong. She had a soft spot. I just didn’t see it so I sure as fuck didn’t protect it.”

  Oh God.

  I closed my eyes, Tack’s hand slid to my jaw and I opened them.

  “Yeah,” he whispered, “you’re gettin’ it, babe.”

  “That’s why you like mine,” I deduced in a return whisper.

  “And that’s why I’ll bust my balls to protect it.”

  Oh God.

  “Go on,” I kept whispering.

  He drew in another breath and then did as I asked.

  “I left her behind but unlike my brother, I didn’t leave her. She mighta seemed hard but we were tight. She could be funny and we held together in a house that felt like a boat tossed in a storm all the fuckin’ time. She got it when I took off, she even told me to get the fuck out. But, soon’s I could, I reconnected with both of them but mostly Kimmy. And soon after that, I started to send her money in hopes she’d find her own way out. Brought her out to Colorado when I married Naomi. Brought them both out when Rush was born. Naomi was pregnant with Tabby, nearly to term when Mom called. Told me Kimmy was hooked on shit, totally fucked up, stealin’, lyin’, turnin’ tricks.”

  I held my breath at this news trying not to look like I was holding my breath but Tack was back in his zone, a seriously bad zone, and thus didn’t notice it.

  “So I went back to California to sort her shit out. What I found, babe, was pissed at my Mom for not tellin’ me sooner. She wasn’t a mess, she fuckin’ defined it. So we talked, or I talked and she shouted. Saw no way to clear her of that shit unless I intervened and took matters into my own hands. Should not have done that. Should never have done that. Should have put her in a hospital. Too late now, I did it. I locked her in a room with me while she detoxed. It was not pretty. Screamin’, fightin’, scratchin’, pukin’, gettin’ the shakes, Christ, those fuckin’ shakes. Like seizures. Whacked. And it did not work. Up for seventy-two hours, dealin’ with her shit, I passed out. She had a stash, junkies are fuckin’ geniuses when it comes to hidin’ their stash, took it, I woke up, she wasn’t movin’ and that was that. She did it with me right in the room. Me right there. My little sister killed herself and I was five feet away, fuckin’ sleeping.”

  I closed my eyes but slid my hand up his chest so I could again curl my fingers around his neck and this time I did it tight.

  I opened them when Tack stated, “Put Kimmy into the ground on a Friday. Hightailed my ass back to Colorado because Tabby came into the world that Sunday.”

  That would mark a man.

  That would definitely mark a man.

  And that marked my man.

  His eyes focused on mine and his hand slid back into my hair, his fingers twisting in it and his words were soft when he said, “The Russians got you, didn’t even think, I got to you, put my hand to your throat. I needed that pulse, babe, so I went for it. Shy shared what went down last night with that asshole and his bat, also didn’t think, put my hand to your throat. It was not meant to hurt you or alarm you. It was done so I could assure myself you were alive.”

  This made sense. So much of it, it was sad at the same time it was beautiful.

  “Okay,” I whispered.

  “My sister’s addiction, I steer clear of any ‘a that shit so I do not smoke pot, my choice, personal. Others do, I don’t judge. You wanna try that shit, that’s your choice too and I won’t judge that either. But you wanna try it, you do it only with me around so I can look after you.”

  “I don’t want to try it,” I assured him and he nodded.

  Then he declared, “Outside pot, drugs do not touch Chaos.”

  I licked my lips before I asked hesitantly, “So I take it they veered off that dark path?”

  “No, they did not. I came back with a fire in my belly to get my Club clear of that shit, stop makin’ it easy for people to take the escape my sister took and make certain I did not become the man my father was. But I was smart enough to bank it. I bided my time. I built up the garage and the stores. I recruited brothers who saw things my way and we planned. The monetary success of the stores and garage had to cover the Club so their lifestyles didn’t change too much when we pulled our
shit off that dark path. I got enough support, I took over. It was hostile. We lost some brothers, they renounced the Club, took off, started to do their own thing. And it was unpopular in factions outside the Club. We were good at what we did and the people we worked with weren’t real happy we were no longer going to provide that service. Shit got ugly, lost a brother to it, but we got clear. And one of the suppliers we worked for was the Russian mob.”

  I gasped. “You lost a brother?”

  “Yeah.”

  “As in, he died?” I whispered.

  “Bowin’ out of safe transport of narcotics is not the same as handin’ in your resignation.”

  Too true.

  “The Russians?”

  “Yeah. I still am not popular with them. And there’s another reason why Arlo and High are about showin’ you respect. They like the money but they also like the rush. Danger is a drug and they’re hooked. They are the last of the brothers who are still tryin’ to get us back in. They got ties to the Russians to keep that avenue open for us should they get me out. What they didn’t expect was that the Russians would pick up someone connected to Chaos. You and me were new, the Russians didn’t want you and had no clue who you were. Even so, that shit doesn’t fly with Chaos. Collateral damage, no matter how that comes about, is unacceptable. Kids, women, not just old ladies but you just bein’ the garage’s office manager, was steppin’ over a line and that line is not drawn in the sand, babe. Not for Chaos. That line is fixed in cement.”

  This was good to know.

  “Right,” I said softly.

  “So Arlo and High are on board and after this is done, where it takes us, I have no clue. Maybe the Russians takin’ you and Lanie, not backin’ down after that shit, not givin’ us our due by admittin’ their mistake, sending lieutenants to offer apologies, might have been a wakeup call to just how cold those motherfuckers are. You’re ours and you weren’t safe. Lanie has nothin’ to do with Belova’s shit and she wasn’t either. This means no one is. That’s a serious wakeup call ‘cause both Arlo and High got old ladies and High’s got kids. After we sweep up that mess, I don’t know how they’ll go. What I know is, drugs took my sister, I worked my ass off to get my brothers where they are, livin’ free and stayin’ free by not doin’ stupid, dangerous, fucked up shit that could get our asses in the joint or worse, dead, and my Club will not be involved in that shit in any way or I won’t be involved in the Club.”