by K. L. Savage
I shove my phone in my cut pocket and speed out of the parking lot. I roll down the pavement, the heat waving through the air is so damn hot, and the buildings in the distance look like a mirage. I place one hand on my thigh and keep the other one on the handlebar, enjoying the fucking peace and freedom the road brings.
I’m not sure when my life got so hard. I thought all the hard shit was over. I didn’t know I’d constantly have my strength and will tested over a woman, and not just any woman. Sarah. Out of all the runs, the drugs, the weapons, the gambling, the everything else that I shouldn’t have done, but I do anyway list, I still can’t see myself putting her on that list.
I push her to the back of my mind and roar down the road, enjoying the wind in my hair as I get closer to the city. I’ll do this one job and make it back in time for her party. And then maybe after waiting for so long, I’ll admit my feelings to her, and we can live happily ever after at last.
When I pull up to the hotel, an uneasy feeling creeps into my body. There’s no one going in and no one coming out, which is odd for a place like Vegas. People are always gambling, always casino hopping, and always looking for a good time. I swing my leg over to get off the bike when I get another call. When I look at the screen, it’s a text from Moretti telling me not to come in, that it’s a trap. Moretti’s stepson is there.
I press the call button, and a large blast blares through the lobby of the casino. It’s large enough and strong enough to lift my bike off the ground and slam it directly into my body. I fly back as fire lights up the sky, searing parts of my skin. I scream in agony as my skin blisters along my arms. My back hits the ground, my shirt ripping against the pavement and my skin peeling along with it. My bike hits against my stomach, landing on me and keeping me pinned to the ground.
I try to get up, but the only thing I see is black smoke rolling out of the hotel like thunderous clouds. Orange and yellow flames lick the sky. My vision blurs as I try to hold onto consciousness, but no one is coming out of that hotel. No one.
Is Moretti okay? This had to be a set up for me and my brothers. It’s the only thing that can be explained. That means Moretti has to be behind the shooting of Boomer. If I make it out of this and if Moretti isn’t dead, he and his stepson will be. It makes no sense for Moretti to ask me to go on a run and then blow the fucking business to the ground. Something fishy is going on here. Fuck, I really wanted that truce with Moretti.
Sirens wail in the distance, and the ringing sound bounces inside my throbbing skull. Every inch of me hurts. “Sarah,” I say on a struggled breath.
“Sir? Can you hear me? Who is Sarah?” A paramedic shines a fucking light in my eye, and I knock the flashlight out of his hand.
“Ow, motherfucker. I just got blown up; have some damn sense,” I wheeze and cough, blood filling my throat. Fuck, it’s getting really hard to breathe.
“His pressure is dropping; we really need to get him to the hospital.”
The last thing I remember is thinking about Sarah. There’s no way I’m making it to her party now. I wonder if I’ll be out of the hospital before midnight.
Tonight is supposed to be the most important night of my life. “I’m sorry,” I mumble. “I’m so sorry.”
“You’re going to be okay, sir. Don’t apologize.”
Sarah.
16
Sarah
The clock has officially struck midnight, and Reaper is nowhere to be found. To say I’m disappointed is an understatement. I’m devastated. Any hope I had for us is gone. All the guys are in the main room of the clubhouse, ready to go out, even Boomer, but no one can get ahold of Reaper.
Tongue pushes his way through the crowd, and he gives me a tight smile, one that’s filled with bad news, I assume. I fidget, rubbing my hands down my new dress. It has a leather bodice and laces up the back like a corset. The bottom is flowy and lands just above my mid-thigh. My blonde hair is platinum now and in long waves cascading down my back. I’m wearing the cherry lip-gloss I know Reaper loves so much.
I’m all dressed up and no Reaper to impress.
All this effort for nothing. I don’t even want to go out anymore. I just want to lay in bed, put on sad, sappy music, and cry myself to sleep like the hopeless, love-drunk fool I am.
“He’ll be here,” Tongue says as he stops in front of me. I know he is only saying that to make me feel better because everyone knows that Reaper’s not going to be here, or he would be here already.
I’m eighteen, according to the clock.
Something I thought Reaper and I were both counting down.
Tongue slides his hand around my shoulders and tucks me into his chest. “It’ll be alright.” Tongue has become my best friend here, other than my brother, and it’s a big deal. I don’t take his friendship for granted. Tongue doesn’t get close to people, he doesn’t talk much, and there is a reason for that; something he has trusted me with. I’ll take to my grave what he told me because it seems like the only other person I can trust here besides Boomer is Tongue.
“I thought it would be different. I thought—”
“I know. All of us did too.” He kisses the top of my head, and tears burn the back of my eyes. If Reaper wanted to rip my heart out, all he had to do was tell me. Ghosting hurts so much worse. People sometimes beg for others to talk to them, but not me; I know when someone is speaking with their actions.
And Reaper is shouting it loud and fucking clear.
A loud whistle rips through the air, and the heavy metal blaring from the jukebox dies down. A low murmur runs through the crowd, and Poodle stands next to me, handing me a drink. It’s a beer. I wanted to go out tonight and try some new fruity drinks since all they have here is whiskey and beer, but I guess that isn’t happening.
“Excuse me!” Boomer stands on the table with his arm wrapped around Candy’s waist. Yuck. He can do so much better than that.
Everyone gives their attention to him; a swarm of black leather cuts stand still at attention. Boomer isn’t part of the club yet. He is family, but he hasn’t really brought it up. Everyone thought he would be a shoo-in. Boomer is a hard read. Some days, he is all about it, and others he hates it.
“Tonight is all about my baby sister, Sarah!”
“Ahooo!”
“Arf, Arf, Arf!”
All the guys make loud cheering sounds and barking noises as they stomp on the wooden planks. My entire body shakes from the force, and I giggle, smiling for the first time all night.
“Sarah!” He lifts his drink, and his eyes land on mine through the crowd. I’m all the way in the back, but he always manages to find me quickly. “The last two years have been a ride. You’re an adult now, and I can’t control what you do, but I can promise this—I’ll always protect you. You came into my life when I needed you most. Tonight, we celebrate you. Happy birthday, kid. I love you. Here’s to a good fucking night!” he roars, lifting his drink in the air as the men continue to stomp, and we all down our beers.
It’s a stampede of animals through here.
Tool comes up to me next, takes my hand, and spins me around. “Why, aren’t you just a vision? You ready to go?”
“We’re still going?” I spin by Tongue before facing Tool again.
“Why wouldn’t we? It’s your birthday! Tongue has planned the entire night, so suck it up. You’re stuck with all of us bikers.”
I throw my arms around him, giving him a tight hug. My fingers don’t even touch behind his back. “Thank you.”
“He’s a fool, you know. He left all pissed off earlier because of Tongue here.”
I want to know what happened, but I don’t have the energy or want to care right now. I want to move on with my life, with my night, and celebrate that I’m an adult. Maybe I’ll make out with someone tonight. Maybe I’ll have sex. I hope it’s a night full of firsts because I’m done waiting.
“Hey! Turn it down. I’m getting a call,” Tool’s voice bellows over everyone and the blaring unclean vocals
bursting through the speakers. Everyone still drinks and continues partying. Poodle and Skirt are on the side with Olivia and Jasmine. I see their cocks sliding in and out of the girls, the condoms wet and slick from the girls’ juices. They’re trying to be quiet, but the moaning is hard to ignore.
Becks is trying to talk to shy Tank, but I don’t see her getting anywhere with that. I keep looking around and see Badge, the cop who is usually never around, scanning the place. He knows I’m underage, but he is here to celebrate with me. He has to pick and choose his battles, and I’m glad he decided to look the other way for me tonight.
Pirate is in another corner, a bottle of rum in one hand and his other on the back of a woman’s head that I don’t recognize as she sucks his cock. She’s on her knees and fingering herself as she gives him head.
I want to give someone head.
I want to fuck someone.
This entire place is full of sex, alcohol, and whatever else that’s good for the soul, and I haven’t been able to experience any of it. And seeing it all around is doing this to my body, and I want Reaper. I don’t want slow. I don’t want tender.
I want hard.
Fast.
Raw.
Primal.
I want everything I know Reaper is.
“Who was it?” Tongue asks Tool when he comes back inside from his phone call.
“I don’t know. They kept breaking up. They sounded out of breath.”
“Is it Reaper? Is he okay?” I step forward and analyze Tool’s facial expression. I can’t tell if he is worried or not.
“I think it was a butt dial, to be honest.” He tucks his phone in his pocket and glances at his watch. “Sin City is at its peak right now. You ready, blondie?”
It feels wrong going out without Reaper. I don’t know. Something is off; something doesn’t feel right. There is a twist in my stomach, and my instincts are telling me that while Reaper and I have been on thin ice, he wouldn’t have missed this for the world. “How long has he been gone?” I switch my gaze from Tool to Tongue. When they share an unsure glance, my patience snaps. “How long!” I scream, and that gets everyone’s attention. The music is off, and the conversation has died down to nothing but a whisper.
“Sarah—”
“How fucking long, Tool?”
“What’s going on?” my brother asks from behind me.
I point to the VP. “They won’t tell me how long Reaper has been gone.”
“He’s probably blowing off steam, fucking some skirt. Don’t worry about it.”
I wince. Boomer couldn’t have slapped me harder if he tried. “Sorry, Sarah. It’s true. You don’t know the man.”
“What the fuck is your problem?” Tool picks up Boomer by a thin thread of his shirt and slams him against the wall. “What the hell have we done to you?”
Boomer leans forward and curls his lip. “I think the better question is, what haven’t you done?”
“You mother—” Tool rears his fist back to punch Boomer, but I duck under Tool’s muscular arm, blocking his attack. He doesn’t have time to stop. He fists slams against my cheek, and I crumble to the ground. My head spins, and my vision blurs. Holy shit, I think I see stars.
“Sarah!” Boomer, Tool, and Tongue say in unison as they all drop to their knees to check on me. “Shit, you crazy bitch. What the fuck were you thinking?” Tongue turns my cheek to see the damage. “Reaper is going to kill you, Tool.”
“Fuck, he is going to have my patch. I’m screwed. I hurt his ol’ lady. Are you okay, Sarah?”
I groan, and Boomer lifts me up into his arm, settling half my body into his lap. “Ouch!” I go to touch my jaw, but wince when my finger grazes it. “That hurt.”
“No shit, getting hit by Tool is like getting hit by a truck. We need to take you to the hospital,” Boomer states and tries to pick me up, but he drops to his knees and struggles to catch his breath. “Just give me a second.” He is still healing from the gunshot wound, and the recovery is slow. He doesn’t need to be picking me up anyway.
“I’m fine. It’s just a scratch.”
“A scratch I’m going to get killed for.” Tool rubs his face with his hands. He suddenly looks ten years older. I’ve never seen him scared, but Tool might run for his life. “I’m so sorry, Sarah. I can’t believe you took that hit. What were you thinking? He deserved it for disrespecting the MC.”
“He’s in enough pain. I’ll be his champion and volunteer to take his punishment.”
“Jesus, you’re fucking nuts.” Tool lifts me by the elbows to help me to my feet. I sway a bit, holding my hand to my head.
“So I’ve heard,” I grumble.
“Doc!” Tool yells, and the crowd parts as Eric comes barging through.
“I’m fine.” I bat Tool’s hand away.
Eric squats down and examines my shiner. “I’ll be the judge of that.” His eyes lift to Tool. “You’re so fucked, man.”
Tool has lost all color in his face and nods. “I know, just check on her. God, I hope I didn’t break her jaw.”
“No, you didn’t. You best count your lucky stars. Her jaw must be made of steel to handle a fist like yours.” Eric places an ice pack on my cheek and sighs with relief. The pain is already starting to go numb. “She might have a concussion. I hate to say it, Sarah, but I really don’t think you should go out tonight.”
“Fuck!” Tool lifts a stool from the ground and tosses it across the room. It shatters into a thousand splinters, and the loud thud causes the throb in my head to pound harder. “Oh my god. I hit her and ruined her birthday. I’m so fucked. I’m a dead man.”
“It’s fine.” I reach up and take his hand in mine. “I don’t blame you. It’s my fault.”
“You’re crazy for taking that for me,” Boomer says. “I owe you.”
“Damn right, you do. I want all the drinks.”
“What do you want? It’s yours. I’ll go now. I’ll buy all of it. Oh, fuck me! I’m screwed.” Tool is pacing now, tugging on his hair. “I’ll get food too. We will have the party here and then we will get a hotel room, all of us, for the weekend when you’re better and really experience the city. Damn it! He’s going to reap me, Tongue. He is going to fucking reap me for this!”
Tongue doesn’t deny it. He actually doesn’t say anything to make Tool feel better. I’m not sure what Tool means, but whatever it is, it has him scared shitless.
“Let’s go to town and get all the supplies, alright? Everything will work itself out.” Tongue opens the door, and a man stumbles through it, falling directly onto Tool’s chest.
It’s hard to focus, but I manage. The man in question looks horrible. Half of his body is burnt. He is covered in sand, and half of his scalp is raw with no hair, bleeding down his neck. I’m feeling sick again. The smell of burnt flesh creeps its way into my head and stomach, and I bend over, throwing up onto the ground.
Boomer rubs soothing circles against my back, and I take another look at the man and realize he is having trouble speaking. His body is shivering violently. Eric is at his side and has his medical bag open.
“Moretti? What the fuck?” Tool says with shock. “What the hell happened to you?” He holds the man’s head gently as he falls to the floor, placing the burnt head on his lap.
“I’m giving you some morphine,” Eric tells the man, squeezing the syringe until medicine jets out of the needle, getting rid of all the air bubbles.
“Hotel. Explosion,” Moretti struggles to say. “I didn’t know where else to go.” His eyes start to roll back, but Tool shakes him a bit.
“No, no, you have to tell us what happened.”
“Have you not watched the news?” The man tries to smile, but it only makes him cry out in agony. God, the pain he is experiencing makes tears brim my eyes.
No, we haven’t watched the news. None of us have. We have been hanging out, cell phones off, just enjoying the day.
“Turn the TV on,” Tool barks, and Knives presses the button on
the flat-screen TV. Right away, a building from earlier today fills the news and black smoke clouds the blue sky. It turns the beautiful day into stormy chaos. Fire licks every part of the building, and a second later, the building crumbles to the ground.
“Reaper,” Moretti gasps. “There. He was there.”
“What!” Clarity hits me, and I fall on the floor and crawl to the man. “Where? Is he okay? Where is he?”
Tool’s cell phone rings again. “What?” he snaps. “Yeah, this is Logan.” He listens to the other line intently. “What? Yes, we are on our way.” He hangs up the phone and slides it into his pocket. “Reaper is at the hospital. Eric, you have Moretti?”
“Yeah. I need help taking him downstairs, but once I get him on the bed, he’ll be okay.” Eric is lying. I see the disbelief. He isn’t sure if Moretti will make it or not.
“Tank, Poodle? You stay here. Bullseye, Tongue, Pirate? You’re with me. Sarah? You’re coming too.”
I’m running out the door and hopping on someone’s bike, anyone’s. I don’t care whose. Reaper is hurt, and he needs me. He will be cornered, and he won’t be able to run. I hope he is okay, and we aren’t too late.
17
Reaper
“Get off me!” I push the male nurse away when he tries to insert another needle into my arm. The last thing I want is to be high. I’m not in that much pain. I can live with a few burns and cuts. I have a woman to see. I can’t miss her birthday.
“Sir, you need to remain calm. You were injured in the—”
I reach out and grab the front collar of his scrubs and yank him forward until I know he can smell the fucking beer on my breath from earlier. “In an explosion? I know. I don’t want you to touch me. I have somewhere to be.”
“You can’t leave. You’re injured. You have to stay in bed.” The little squirrely looking guy tries to wiggle from my hold, but he can’t. His Adam’s apple bobs. “It’s for your own safety.”
