The Ride

by Jaci J.

  The deal goes as planned thank God. My shit isn't all together and I do not feel like dying today. “You got the truck? I gotta hit town for a few,” I ask Gin.

  Shaking his head he hops in the truck. “I got this shit,” he says through the window. Nodding my okay, I hop on my bike and ride that bitch to town.

  Picking up a part only takes a few minutes. Walking towards the door of the parts store, I see a body on my bike and my blood boils instantly. Motherfuckers think it’s fun to look at my bike and some are even stupid enough to sit on her. She ain't a Goddamn amusement park ride. Seeing fuckin’ red and a soon to be dead body, I smash my way through the door ready to tear somebody limb from limb. That's until I see her. Lil's thick thighs are wrapped around my bike, arms folded over the handlebars and a sweet smile on her face. She's wearing some white jean shorts and a black tee, hair down and aviators on top of her head.

  “Me n' your lady here were just gettin' acquainted,” she says softly, running a hand over the handle. My poor fucking dick twitches in my pants. She sure is giving him a workout. That thing doesn't get much rest when Lil's around. Any other person touches my bike, they lose a fucking hand. No bitch sits on my lady, but Lil's body all over my lady has me fucking hard.

  “I think she likes you too,” I croak out pathetically. What the hell is wrong with me?

  She smiles, and she looks so fuckin’ happy. “Yeah? I like her too.” This is a picture I'll never forget. This image will be burned into my mind until I'm dead and buried.

  “Whatcha doin' out here?” I grumble, remembering the protection order we've got going.

  Shrugging, she hops off the bike with an air of innocence and free spirit follows her. “I needed a few things,” she says cryptically holding up a shopping bag.

  Fucking hell, she's alone. I thought I left her ass with Peaches. Her being out here alone annoys the shit out of me. What the fuck is the point of a protection order if no one follows it? If she didn't bring a brother with her she should have at least brought a damn Prospect, or even Peaches with her.

  “How you gettin' home?” I ask her. I'm not sure why I'm even asking because she's coming with me either way. She doesn't get a choice. She can come willingly or I'll take her by force.

  “I was going to call Peaches or something,” she says nonchalantly.

  Wrong answer.

  Swinging a leg over my girl, Lil moves back on the seat. My first bike I promised myself that no bitch would ride on her. As I got older, I changed that rule to no bitch on my bike until it was my girl or my Old Lady, and here I am, inviting this girl on it all the damn time. I'm getting soft.

  “You sure you don't mind?” she asks. Am I sure? Hell yes.

  “Come on, arms around me baby.” With her body behind me,, she wraps herself around and into me. I have to fight to stuff down the shiver her touch gives me. I start the bitch up, giving her a good throttle. Lil’s little hands wiggle up under my cut. Fuck. I can feel her warm hands through my thin shirt. I have her beautiful thighs wrapped around me, her body pressed against mine. … Now I'm fucking hard again. Jesus Christ.

  8

  Lil

  Pulling up to the club, my arms are wrapped around Tank. Not so much as wrapped, but gripping his hard stomach and my cheek resting on his back. He smells delicious, like leather, spice, smoke, and man. It's a smell that would melt the panties off any girl, me included. He actually looks graceful swinging a big long thick leg off the bike.

  “Come on Lil,” he orders softly. His hands wrap around my waist, lifting me off of the bike and setting me on my feet with a smirk. There are some manners in there somewhere.

  “Thanks for the ride.” Shrugging my thanks off, Tank slings a heavy arm over my shoulder, hauling me to his side and into the club.

  “Sure thing, baby.”

  Wrapped around Tank sends my body into all kinds of directions. Part of me wants to throw his big ass body down and fuck him right here on the cement of the parking lot. The other part of me wants to run for the hills, screaming with the damage he could do to my ego and not to mention my lady parts. Barging his way through the door, he pulls me right along with him, his arm keeping me tight to his side. There is such a sense of safety and protection in the way he holds onto me.

  “Shots,” Peaches shouts at me as soon as I'm through the door. Her, Cali, and a few of the girls are sitting at the bar chatting and drinking.

  Looking up at Tank, he smiles down at me. His blue eyes are light and happy, but it’s his dimples that are threatening to soak my panties. Everything this man does affects my poor panties.

  “Up for a shot?” I ask him.

  Shaking his head he plants a kiss on my forehead. “Nah baby, got shit to do.” Walking off, he disappears into the back of the club.

  Sitting myself down next to Cali I get comfy. Both girls gape at me as soon as my ass touches the stool. Oh hell, here we go.

  “What the fuck is going on with you n' Tank?” Peaches inquires, arching a perfectly sculpted brow at me. That girl is always digging for drama and gossip. Cali’s smirking at me too, hand on her hip. Nosy bitches.

  “Nothing. I just got a ride back.” I brush them off. They exchange a knowing look. These two are up to something, which is never a good thing. Pinning me with those looks, they're not gonna let me off easy.

  “Yeah that's not the only thing he wants you to ride,” Peaches giggles at her own little joke. Cali laughs right along with her.

  “He wants that pussy,” Cali states firmly, “and those lips.” They're cackling and carrying on now, each egging the other one on. Both of them are conspiring against me.

  “Oh, oh and her tits,” Peaches adds enthusiastically. I swear, to an outsider sitting in on one of our conversations, they would be blushing and squirming in their seats.

  “Fuck you two,” I grumble into my empty shot glass. Hey, weren’t we taking shots here?

  “Fuckin' is what you two will be doin'.” Cali adds smartly. Both girls burst into laughter with high fives passed around like frat boys.

  “Shots, yeah?” I snap, sliding my empty shot glass to Peaches. Happily she fills it ignoring my mood, but I have a feeling they're just getting started.

  “God I hear he's a beast in bed,” Peaches groans licking her lips.

  Cali fans herself dramatically. “I've heard him before. Jesus Christ, it sounded painfully fun. Hours and hours of fun.”

  These two have lost their Goddamn minds. I'm not going to sleep with him, I can’t. That's not what I'm here for, right?

  Gin is sitting not more than ten feet away while Peaches gushes over another man. He doesn't give a shit. This is normal.

  “Will you two shut up about Tank?” Both girls smile wickedly at me. A big rough hand slides up my back and into my hair, fingers curling around the back of my neck. My body instantly heats up. Without turning around I know who it is. There is no need to look, I can feel him.

  Tank leans himself into my body resting against my back. His warmth soaks into my skin. That yummy smell is invading my space and I am so about to lose it. I'm not sure how much more my poor body can take.

  “What 'bout me?” he drawls, subdued amusement in his voice. Snapping my eyes up to my two loud mouth friends, I plead with my eyes that they keep their traps shut. No such luck. They already have that look in their eyes. Here it comes. They're up for causing more trouble again.

  “We were discussing you fuckin' Lil,” Peaches says like it’s no big deal, waving a hand dismissively like it’s just some normal afternoon conversation amongst friends.

  A deep laugh rumbles through him and it makes me smile. His laugh is deep and hardy, filled with heart and easy delight. “What about me fuckin' Lil?” He chuckles to himself, clearly finding this conversation amusing.

  It's like I'm not even in the room. They just keep right on talking about me.

  “Oh, just how it’s gonna happen here real soon,” Cali chimes in.

  Sitting himself beside me on
a bar stool, he looks over at me. Bright blue eyes not looking at me, but in me. I wish I had another shot. Pointing to my glass, I eye Peaches.

  “What do ya say babe?” he asks me. Seriously? Is he asking my permission? Refilling my glass I throw it back quickly before I answer him.

  “Well, it’s sounding like I may not have a say,” I quip back. Peaches and Cali giggle. Tank slaps his big hand on my thigh, squeezing it tightly. Well damn. There they go. Time to go make the annual trip to the store for new panties.

  “Fuckin' right babe. You don't.” Oh, I have a choice, I just don’t see fighting him on it.

  “Church, motherfuckers.” My dad growls from the doorway. “Bring it in.”

  Saved by my dad … for now.

  Tank gives me one last look before heading in. I sag into my stool and I take a deep breath. I want him, but I don’t know what I expect from him. All I know to do with this situation is to let it play out, see where it could lead, and pray no one gets hurt, and in his case, killed.

  ************

  Standing in the clubs kitchen, I'm making some whipped cream for the pies I just baked. The kitchen here is pretty nice, and very functional. It’s a large industrial size kitchen with large stainless steel appliances. Cooking in here sometimes feels like cooking in a school kitchen, or hell, maybe even a prison. I mean, I am cooking for a bunch of children hiding in men’s bodies with criminal backgrounds. The rest of the clubhouse pretty much matches the kitchen. All very industrial. It has exposed brick, duct work, and pipes with polished concrete floors. The main room is large, making up most of the large twenty-five thousand square foot building. Four large leather couches and ten leather chairs are on one side of the room. Of course, there are two stripper poles in that corner, right along with the TV's. I mean, doesn't every man cave need stripper poles?

  In another corner are a few pool tables. Decorating one wall is a row of four large sixty-inch TV's, two for surveillance, the other two for cable. On the opposite side of that, you have a long bar that runs the length of the place. To the side of the bar are a few bar tables. It's all very manly.

  Bike photos, pictures of past and present members, rowdy family trips and barbecue pictures adorn the walls. Behind the bar is a large Hell's Disciples flag and the American flag. There is Club and Motorcycle memorabilia on some nice black shelves. Usually you'll find a greasy bike part or two sitting on a couch or table. Beer bottles, shot glasses and discarded clothes adorn other surfaces. Hell, you may find a bike or two inside. Upstairs is a loft space that overlooks the entire ground floor. Up there are more TV's, leather chairs, a couch and poker tables. That space used to be the kids area. Toys, TV's, and other kid crap. Not many young kids around anymore so it's now back to being part of the man cave.

  I spent a good deal of my childhood up there. At the back and wrapping around one side of the compound are the bedrooms. There are fourteen total with one bathroom between each two bedrooms. Ya know, Jack and Jill bathrooms.

  Dad's office is directly to the left of the front door. There is another spare room next to that, but it's always locked.

  Out back is a large yard about the same size as the building that’s gated off by twenty foot, high brick barricades. The front of the building is a paved open court. Right off of the club is a giant six bay shop adorned with a mechanics dream worth of tools, lifts, machines, and spare bike and vehicle parts of every style and kind. This place has always been a grown man’s fort. Everything a man / child could ever want and need is in these two steel building. The entire compound is gated by an electric fence.

  Dad asked me to cook so that's what I'm doing now. Chili is on the stove, corn bread's in the oven, and apple pies are cooling on the island. I hear the loud laughter drifting into the kitchen and in walk the guys.

  Church must be over because Tank, Happy, Gin, Stitch, and my dad meander in.

  “Gotta take a run,” my dad says while walking out the back door. Always on a run, never time to hang with me. Besides needing me for the paperwork and work for the club, I’m wondering why he even asked me to come back. I know he loves me, but I left my life ‘cause he needed me. It just doesn’t feel that way, so I just watch him go without a word.

  “Smells good in here,” Stitch says plopping down on a stool at the butcher block island. Tank sets himself down on the counter right next to me.

  “Baby,” he greets me in a suggestive drawl, smirk firmly in place. He’s breaking out the heavy artillery, dimples and all.

  Dipping a finger in the whipped cream, I pop it into his mouth.

  “Fuckin' good,” he groans. Swatting his hand away, he grins at me.

  “Sup sis,” Gin mumbles, smacking a kiss to my cheek. “Where's the bitch?” he asks, looking for Peaches.

  Shrugging, I tell him, “In town with Cali. They said something about the mall.” Rolling his eyes, he sets himself across from Tank on the island.

  “So I’m hearin' you 'n Tank talkin' 'bout fuckin,” he states matter-of-factly. Jesus Christ. “Not sure how I feel 'bout that sis.” Does everyone know about that conversation? It’s always a fucking soap opera around this joint with Peaches and Cali. Bitches and their big ass mouths.

  Throwing my hands up in the air I spin around and face Tank, ready to give it to him. He’s got a lopsided smile on those lips, eyes twinkling with trouble. The fight in me slips the second I set eyes on that sweet smile. Damn him.

  “It's inevitable babe.” I feel like I’m in fucking High School. Obviously these guys are as immature as they come. Why the hell am I letting them get to me? I fuck whoever I want, whenever I want. What has gotten into me? I am a grown ass woman and I need to start acting like it.

  I’m hitching a ride into town with Prospect Jones. We ran out of milk and a few other things at the clubhouse so here I am, stuck with Prospect Jones, running right back to town. Studying him, I realize he looks just like that kid from the show The Middle, Brick. All nerdy, with an oddly large head. I think I'll call him that. Prospect Brick. He's pretty quiet but really polite. He can't be more than nineteen, but he’ll work. If I've got to be stuck with a Prospect, at least it isn't a creepy one like Kash.

  Prospect Brick follows me through the store like a good little Prospect, even carrying my bags like a Southern gentleman. I like this one.

  “Thanks for helping me,” I smile up at him. Nodding his head, he smiles to himself.

  “Anytime, ma'am.” Checking out, we head out of the store to the truck when rounding the corner to the truck, everything happens in a blur.

  A group of men with guns surround us, pushing us towards the alley behind the store. The only thing in real time is the greasy smirk on the guy’s mangled face as he snarls at me. Slowly a nasty, disfigured lip curls into a sickening grin. Scars cover a good portion of his face, like someone got him with a rake.

  “Look what we got here boys. Low's little girl. You are a beauty, ain’t ya,” he sneers at me. He must be the one in charge ’cause he’s the only one talking.

  Reaching a hand out, he touches my cheek. I try to keep my head still and not jerk away. Running a finger down my cheek to my neck, he sighs. I hold back the need to gag. I feel dirty from his touch, everything about him is sleazy and sordid.

  “Fuck you. Don't fuckin' touch me,” I growl coldly standing my ground. He's wearing a cut, but I can't make out the colors. All I know is he's not a Disciple and I'm in trouble.

  Prospect Brick steps in front of me, but scare face is quicker. Snatching me up by the arm he tugs me over to him, knocking Brick into his guys. The fight in me takes over.

  “Get the fuck away from me,” I shout with a struggle. Trying to pull away from him, I know that I’m fucked if I don't fight back. I've got to get away or at least try. Swinging my foot up I bring it right into his balls. Grunting he drops my arm instantly. Coughing and gasping he paces a few times hunched over holding his stomach.

  “You a stupid bitch aintchu',” he growls menacingly at me. Straightening u
p he levels me with one look. Shit. I don't have time to react.

  With a swift swing, he back hands me across the face. I can hear the mean crack ringing in my ears as pain radiates through my face and into my jaw. The pain stings to the bone. Stumbling back a foot or two, Prospect Brick is able to get in front of me, but it's too late. I hear it before I see it.

  A loud crack of a gun rings out. The sound is so deafening, and then, all I see is red, warm, sticky blood as it trickles down my face and neck. Then, the Prospect falls into me.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  My mind goes blank, zeroing in on if he’s alive. Is he alive? Lord please let him be alive! I know it's a long shot and I can't look. Oh my God, I don't want to know. Terrible memories rush back in. and I’m paralyzed with fear to the point I can't move. Memories of Josh's burlap sack covered head, on his knees. I'm sorry, is all I heard before I saw blood everywhere. It’s all over me, all over the ground. How can a body hold so much blood? I’m rooted to the cement, and I can't think, let alone move.

  Scar face grabs me around my neck and lifts me to where my feet are dangling beneath me and the ground slips away. Then I’m slammed against the concrete wall of the store. My head crashes into the wall with enough force to almost knock me out. Hanging somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness, my mind fights to stay with it. I claw my nails at his hands, desperately trying to loosen his grip on my neck. The strength in his grip is slowly crushing my windpipe.

  “Got a little message for your Dad,” his voice low. He’s speaking right into my face, eyes wild and bloodshot. Squirming only makes his grip tighter. I can't breathe and my vision blurs. I can feel my head growing lighter by the second, and my heart is hammering its way out of my chest. I’m going to die right here, and there is nothing I can do about it.

  “Listen ya stupid fuckin' cunt,” he growls, shaking me a little. My head hits the wall again. “We want ours. He wants what's his. If not, then tell him next time it'll be your head I blow off.”