by Vivian Gray
I land more on Del than I do on him. I try to soften the blow to her as much as possible by spinning my body away from her and focusing my landing on his knife-holding arm, but she gets enough of it to fall straight to the ground with a horrible thud.
I cry out her name, “Delilah! Fuck!” But I don’t have enough time to listen to her response. Preacher is already on me, slashing towards my arms and shoulders. The thick gutting blade dives blindly towards my flesh, nailing me near the elbow. The warm drip of blood splattered on my sleeve does nothing to stop me.
Preacher’s my height; I have maybe an inch or two on him at most. But he’s more sizable than I am, has twice the presence even I do. Old age has made him soft, but soft men make great towers for fights like this. He may not be moving fast, but he’s not moving either as I wind up and land a blow to his side. The most I hear is a gasp of air from deep within him. He laughs as he scores me again, this time at my neck, dangerously close to ending it all.
“Is that all you got, greenhorn?” he asks, still standing firm. He doesn’t even look phased by the chaos around me. At my jump, Nicco charges at one of his men, and Seb isn’t far behind him. The four of them are tousled in a heap on the ground where all I can make out are the shapes of arms and legs flailing and stabbing at one another.
I can feel, or at least sense, Delilah still at my feet, curled up in a ball. I shout for Shannon to help, but I can barely get her name out of my mouth before Preacher’s on me again. He slashes at my face again, slicing me right along the cheek and cutting into bone. But this time, I see him coming, and as he raises his arm, I managed to score a brutal knock on his breastbone. His knife falls to the ground at my feet, and I do my best to kick it as far away as I can with the tip of my boot.
“Now it’s fair, Preacher!”
“Keep up, kid. If you want to make it around these parts, in the big ole city, you’re gonna have to fight dirty.” He launches his fist towards my broken face, but I duck away. The force knocks him forward with enough velocity that I can push myself against his chest. He backs away, resetting the fight again.
I’ve never been much of a fist-on-fist kind of guy. I trained in the boxing gym when I first joined the club. Nicco had promised me it was the best way to get fit and learn some necessary combat skills for my role as an enforcer. He even had me go in the ring with top local fighters to test my skills and speed.
Since then, I’ve been in fights here and there, and I’ve used these fists more than I care to admit, but those days feel like eternities from now – where I am fighting for something so important that I’d rather die than lose.
Remembering Delilah, her smile in the morning and the sound of my name on her lips, strikes something in me. It’s like the click of an on button or the key in the ignition of a one-kick bike. Everything starts and runs within me until I am fired up at full-force.
I pull my head down, and I take a deep breath. My toes dig into the hard, dry ground, and I release. Each step echoes through me. My feet leap off of the ground and into the air right at Preacher’s side. And as he attempts to duck, I slam my body as hard as I can into him like an eagle swooping at his prey from above.
This time, Preacher’s body relents under my weight. We fall fast towards the ground, his back hitting first with me hovering on top of his chest and thighs. His arms and legs flail and struggle to free themselves, but I pin him as tightly as I can between my legs. He tries striking me, but I nail him first straight in the nose. His head flies back into the rocky ground with his hand cupped around his mouth. I strike him again and again until blood spurts through his fingers.
“Race!” Nicco’s voice comes over the sound of my fists striking his face and Preacher’s tormented screams. “The knife!”
I look over my shoulder to see Nicco in a similar position with his man. The large thug he’s nailed to the ground isn’t moving. A pool of blood forms a ring around his head where it leans against a red-stained rock. In one of Nicco’s hand is Preacher’s fish gutting knife still covered in my blood. He tosses it to me, just out of reach of Preacher’s still moving arms.
The sound of my heartbeat thunders through me as I reach for the weapon. The blade feels warm between my fingers as I press the tip to the man’s neck right at the same spot he cut me. Preacher pulls away from the fight. His body goes stiff under me, his arms reaching above his head.
My words spill out of me like I’ve rehearsed them, “You called me a fucking coward. You told me I was unwilling to fight for my woman. But I’m not a kid, and I’m certainly no greenhorn. What you don’t know about me is that I will do anything to protect my family – including slicing you from limb to limb!”
“Don’t,” the old man whispers. “Don’t do it. Killing her father ain’t gonna score you any points. You’ll just be repeating history for her again.”
“And keeping you alive isn’t going to keep my family safe either.”
I pull the knife away from his throat, flipping it in my fingers. I cup my hand around it and throw it above my head. The blade points straight for his heart; a kill shot I know I can’t miss. Preacher closes his eyes and the world around me finally goes silent. There’s nothing but time ticking away and the sound of the highway in the distance…
“Don’t do it. Please! Spare him!” Shannon’s pleas split through the night. The woman runs to my side, sliding in beside me. She reaches for me over Preacher’s battered body and holds tight to the hand grasping the knife. In my ear, she mutters, “Listen to him, Race. Killing this man is going to do nothing but bring in the old ghosts. Let him live his miserable little life.”
“Ain’t going to happen, Shannon,” I insist. “Not after what he’s done to the woman I love, the mother of my child. He’s got to pay for that.”
“And don’t forget the club and how he’s betrayed those men,” Nicco chimes in from the side. Seb, too, looks on, nodding. He looks worse for wear, but he manages to stand to his feet.
“Let him live. For her. She doesn’t need him in her life, but I know Delilah. I know she won’t forgive herself if she had blood on her hands.”
“It’s my life to take, Shannon. It’s not your say or hers.”
“Then let me make a deal. I’ve got money. Lots of it. It was all from his life insurance that I haven’t touched. I promised I’d give it to Delilah when she was old enough to understand. For this man’s life, I’ll go into business with the club. I’ll buy out some territory. I’ll make it work for all of us.”
Nicco turns towards Shannon. “How much?” he asks, always the businessman.
“Enough to expand headquarters. Maybe open up a club bar or restaurant. Make it legit too. I’ll split the profits. Delilah and I can run it. We both know the business.”
I look towards Delilah, her body still curled up in a U on the ground. “How do you know he’d leave you two alone? How do I know he won’t pull this shit again?”
Seb coughs, interjecting himself into the fight. “Boss, I’ve got an idea. Preacher mentioned he had to prove himself to become the leader of the Roadheads. If he comes back down two men down and embarrassed as fuck, he’s not gonna hold his spot for long. In fact, it may set off a civil war between those riders. Cut him off by the balls. Make them question his leadership. Preacher will be gone in weeks… if he’s got enough huevos in him to even show his face back at headquarters.”
Nicco nods. “That might—”
“You can’t be serious?!” I shout. “I’m not going to let this fucker live!” I brush Shannon off of me as gently as I can, moving the knife back up as high as I can go. Nicco and Seb both call my name, but I’m laser-focused on the task at hand. This man, this horrible fucker of a man deserves this death. For Delilah and my child, I’ll waste him against any order my president gives me. It’ll be worth it to know that he will never touch my family again.
“Race,” Delilah’s voice whispers in my ear. “Put it down.”
I turn my head to see her. Her windswept hair
flies behind her. A small cut on her shoulder where her spaghetti strap has fallen is the only injury I can see. She looks tired but determined. She repeats the order again as she places a hand on the side of my face where he hasn’t cut me.
“I can’t let him go, Del.”
“For me. If you love me… If you love us...” She takes my hand and places it on her belly. We both look down. Electricity flies through us both as she says, “We can do this. We can be a family with him still walking this earth. All we need is you.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, our eyes meeting.
She smiles slightly and nods. “Let’s end this – the right way.” The knife slips between my hands and falls to the ground at her knees. She takes the weapon out of sight and then leans forward, kissing me as tenderly as she can. The pain from my gnarly cut on my cheek shoots through my jaw, but it all disappears as she holds me.
Behind us, Seb and Nicco go to work. They find a switch of rope strong enough to bind Preacher to a nearby tree. He’ll be out of sight for long enough to let his punishment sink in. And even then, he’ll probably wind up in the hospital with the injuries I’ve given him. The cops won’t be far off after that. Nicco’s already texted a detective about the big lead he’s about to get. The notorious Preacher will be safely behind bars by tomorrow night.
We watch it all go down, including the cleanup, from the van. The club’s doc on call shows up, stitch kit ready to go. Del holds tight to my fingers as he works on the gashes at my shoulder, neck, and face.
“Are you sure you don’t need to get checked on?” I ask her.
“No. No. I can’t believe this, but… I can feel him move.”
“Y-you’re kidding me.” I stammer. “It’s… it’s moving?”
“It’s kicking the hell out of me. That has to mean it’s okay. Right, doc?”
The doc pauses his work and says, “Yeah. You’d be surprised how strong a woman’s body is when pregnant. If the baby’s kicking and you’re not bleeding, I’d say you can wait until morning to get it checked out. Say you took a fall down some stairs.”
“You’re fucking incredible, Del,” I exclaim. “And I don’t deserve you. I shouldn’t have made you go. I should have said what I wanted to say that night.”
“Which was?” Her eyebrow rises.
“That I will do anything for this family. You don’t like headquarters? Then I’ll get us a damn house. I’ll work a nine to five punching a clock like a regular slob. I’ll come home every night if it means we’re together. Anything, Del. You tell me what you and that kid needs and it’s yours.”
She pauses, her lip quivering. Her hand runs through my hair before pulling herself into my chest. “The only thing in this world I need is you. And the only thing this baby needs is its daddy.”
Epilogue
Delilah
One year later…
“Are you sure you can handle it, Mom? The dinner rush is coming, and I don’t want to leave you short-staffed or without another eye doing the books.”
“No, no, no. I’ve got this. You’ve worked the last ten nights, and you, more than anyone else, deserve a night off. Go on! Go enjoy it!”
“I know, but with the baby and the restaurant, it’s too much. This is a two-person job, Mom.”
“Honey, I’ve run a restaurant for the majority of my life. I know this business like the back of my hand. So, when I tell you there’s nothing to worry about, there’s nothing to worry about. Trust me. Ariel will be running lead in the front of house, and she’s got that down now. There isn’t anything we can’t manage with you.” Mom grins saucily as she leans in and whispers in my ear, “Plus, I know how much this night means to Race and you.”
“It’s not a big deal,” I say a little bashfully, “it’s just a date.”
“It’s your anniversary!” she exclaims, a look of mock-horror taking over her face.
“Well… Yeah…” I admit. “Yeah, it is that.”
“And after everything that went down that night with your dad and our deal with Nicco to open this diner, you better believe that it is a big deal. The last year has been crazy, Del. You have to admit that much. So, for Christ’s sake, give yourself a break from time to time. Or at least this time. Let yourself enjoy a night off with no baby, no restaurant, no mom-boss.”
“I’d never call you ‘mom-boss’,” I say playfully. “And besides, I don’t even have anything to wear. After Mateo’s birth, I can’t seem to fit into my old things. Everything’s all over the place now.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that. Race dropped off a pretty bag I may have peeked into while you were bussing tables.”
“Mom! Seriously! What the hell?”
“Oh, come on. Relax, we’re all adults here. Besides, I was just curious. Can’t a girl dream?” She looks at me with those moony eyes. Ever since my father appeared and then disappeared again, she has started to put herself out there on the dating scene. Her first date was with an old dog that used to bum around her old diner. She’s never told me how it went, but if they’re still together, she’s keeping it pretty tight-lipped.
“Yeah, yeah, sure, a girl can dream,” I chide, “but I’d still appreciate it if you stayed out of my shit.”
“Just look at it, Del,” she says with mild reproachfulness – but a thin smile belies her tone.
It’s been quite the transition going in on a business with my mom at the head. Surprisingly enough, she seamlessly took over the management of the new place. She started off by picking out a location that could easily bring in the boys after their shifts. She instituted a twenty-five percent discount to Devils wearing their colors and a fifty percent off deal for their dates.
The BB Cafe took off, bringing in more money than she could have ever dreamed of making as a waitress. As her second in command, I’m not forgotten when it’s time to split the profits.
For me, however, I’ve only been back for a few months now. Giving up time with Mateo was one of the most difficult decisions of my life. There is the new home to attend to and the baby to bring up, but Race pushed me pretty hard to take the role, noting how I had a spirit similar to his.
“You need to work,” he told me. “To have purpose, to be independent.”
And he was right. While being a mom came naturally for me on most days, being cooped up in the home for twenty-four hours a day sure as hell wasn’t. I found myself easily going from waitress to mom to restaurant manager in under a year.
My mom waves me off towards the door, pushing me through the office we share. “I left the bag, along with the rest of your items, back in the staff bathroom. I’ll guard the door. You get changed and put on some fresh makeup.”
She doesn’t have to tell me twice. The idea of a new dress, one that Race had picked out for me, is thrilling. I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t covered in spilled food, spit up, or road dust.
I race off towards the bathroom and shut the door quickly behind me. A bright red bodycon dress is tossed neatly over the towel holder with a pair of matching stilettos lined up neatly underneath it. The color practically takes my breath away.
It’s a perfect fit, sliding down the long lines of my changed body. My new curves fill out the strapless top nicely. Even I give myself a second glance in the mirror before I head back outside.
“Damn!” Ariel sings out across the busy restaurant. I try to conceal my blush as about a million eyes turn in my direction.
“Fucking hell,” one of the bikers sitting at the countertop mutters to another, “Race is one lucky son of a bitch.” I stand a little straighter at that.
He is lucky. After all that we’ve been through, after over a year being the claim of the second-in-command of one of the largest motorcycle clubs in L.A., and a new mom and business owner, we have had our struggles. There have been times I’ve wanted to rip his eyes out, especially after Mateo was born. And I’m sure there were times when he was ready to pack it up and go back to bachelorhood. But I can’t see any of those
times as I proudly walk towards the doors of the restaurant in the fancy dress my man has bought for me.
“He’s got good taste. I’ll give him that.” Ariel smiles as she gently rubs my back. “He’s also hell romantic for a guy who spends his days beating the shit out of other men. Can he give Seb some tips?”
“Seb’s a great guy, Ariel,” I remind her. Without him and his quick thinking, I’d be looking over my shoulder every time I stepped out the door.
The first few weeks after that night with my dad had been tough. I didn’t trust my new freedom – always wondering when my father would come after me. I watched his case from afar – tracing his arrest and the court trials for murder and conspiracy until he was put away for life without parole.
