Twisted Steel: An MC Anthology: Second Edition

by Elizabeth Knox

  He leads me inside and through the crowd. He guides us to the staircase, and we start up it. Oh, goody. I get to find out what’s up here. At the top of the stairs we turn down a long hall and I realize just how far back this old building goes. We pass doors with frosted glass windows in the top portion. Each one still has stenciled words on them indicating the offices they once were. We pass Accounting, Engineering, and Human Resources. Green stops in front of one that says Sales. While he unlocks it with a key, I glance further down the hall and spot two more doors labeled Vice President and President.

  Green swings the door open, and we step inside. I see it’s been converted into a bedroom.

  He moves to the bed and turns on a small lamp on the nightstand next to it. The bed is made, and there’s not much in the room other than a chair. The brick walls are exposed and there are multi-paned windows high up letting in some moonlight.

  “What is this place?” I ask.

  “My room. Each of the officers has one.” His hands settle on my hips, turning me fully to him. “We can spend the night here. You good with that?”

  “Absolutely.” I loop my arms around his neck, and his mouth descends on mine. He pulls us backward toward the bed, both of us stripping as we go. Then he’s pulling me down on top of him.

  I push up and grin at him, and then I slide down his body, licking his abs as I make my way to his cock.

  He cradles my head gently in his hand, pushing my hair out of the way so he can watch me take him in my mouth.

  When I do, his hips lift off the bed, and he groans.

  “Fuck, yeah, baby.”

  I smile inside and set about making my man happy.

  14

  Green

  After another bout of fucking fantastic sex, we lay quietly in bed.

  I run my fingers gently through Sara’s hair.

  “What happened to us?” she whispers against my chest, and my hand stills.

  “You know what happened. You left town.”

  “You should have come with me.” She lifts her head to capture my eyes. “Why didn’t you?”

  “Babe, we’ve been all through that. I wanted you to stay. You wouldn’t. I begged you to stay, and you left anyway.”

  “I had to go.”

  I nod. “I know that now. The last time I asked you to stay, it was selfish of me. I realize that. I realized it shortly after you left.” I stare into her eyes, and I know I can’t be selfish again this time. I can’t ask her to give up her successful career in LA for me now. And I can’t follow this time, any more than I could then. My life, the MC is here. I can’t pick up and go to LA to be with her. I tuck a lock of hair behind her ear.

  She puts her head down on my chest again. “I missed you so badly. And then I heard you’d joined the military, and I was so afraid for you. I’d lie awake at night and wonder where you were, what you were doing, and if you were safe.”

  I stroke my hand down her back, again marveling at how soft her skin is. “I wish you’d written to me.”

  “I didn’t know how.”

  “Ma knew the address. She would have given it to you.”

  “I guess I was scared.”

  “Of what?”

  “That you hated me. That I’d ruined everything.” She lifts her head to look at me again. “Were you safe?”

  “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  “Did anything bad happen to you over there?”

  “Saw a lot of shit; none of it good. Guess it hardened me. Guess it’s why I searched out the MC when I returned. I needed that brotherhood again.”

  “And you found it.”

  “I did.”

  She lays her head down on my chest again, and she’s quiet a long time, her fingers trailing over the ink on my skin. Finally, she whispers, “I’m glad you found them. I’m glad you made it home safe.”

  “Me, too.”

  “I was so angry when you wouldn’t come with me.”

  “I was pretty damn angry when you wouldn’t stay,” I admit. “But at least before I left, I made sure it was safe for you to come home again.” I feel her body go still; her trailing fingers stopping, and I immediately wish I could take back that comment.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing.”

  She lifts and stares at me. “Irish, what do you mean?”

  I meet her eyes. “The week after you left, I was in Franklin’s Hardware . . .”

  “Yes? And?”

  I stare at the ceiling and my mind drifts back to that day that changed everything.

  Fall, 2001—

  I’m trying to decide between the cheap wood-handled hammer and the overpriced forged steel one in my hand. I test its grip and overhear a couple of girls in the next aisle where bird feeders and wind chimes are stocked. They’re talking in low tones, and they only catch my attention because I recognize their voices. It’s Rhonda and Celine, Sara’s BFFs from school.

  “That’s him, there at the register.”

  “Who?”

  “Sara’s stepfather.”

  My head swivels to look for the man. He’s standing at the counter, checking out.

  “The one that . . .” Rhonda’s voice drifts off to nothing.

  “Yep. I’m so glad she got that scholarship and left town and got away from him. She told me he came into her room one night and put his hand on her leg, but her mom came home just in time from her night job, thank God, and he left.”

  “She told me he cornered her in the hall once and felt her up. That’s why I was always asking her mom if she could spend the night at our house.”

  “I begged her to tell the guidance counselor, but she never would.”

  “What about that guy from school she always hung around with?”

  “You mean Irish? No, she never told him. She was always afraid it would ruin what they had.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know, that he wouldn’t look at her the same anymore or that it would be awkward.”

  “He was built like a brick house. I bet he’d have punched that jerk in the nose.”

  “Sara was afraid if he found out, he might do something and get arrested. It would have ruined his life.”

  I tighten my hold on the hammer, my blood pounding through my veins and my face heating. My eyes connect with the man at the counter, and I want to smash his skull with this hammer and not stop until his brains are pulp. I take a deep, slow breath. Not here, not now, but soon. He’ll get what’s coming to him, that I swear.

  I blink from my dark memories and when my gaze connects with Sara’s, I know my silence has said everything for me. It’s clear in her wide eyes, and if that isn’t proof enough, the way she sucks in her breath seals the deal.

  “My stepfather? That was you?”

  I never planned to tell her. Saw no point in it. But I’m not ashamed either. The man deserved exactly what he got. Probably more. I was just eighteen at the time. If that shit had happened now, I’d take my time, draw out his pain, and make him suffer for what he did.

  “Irish, tell me.”

  I meet her eyes, letting her see the truth in mine. “I overheard your girlfriends talking in the next aisle. They were talkin’ low; didn’t know I was there.”

  “What were they talking about, Tim?” she asks me with an edge to her voice, like she already knows.

  “You . . . and your stepfather.”

  “Oh my God.”

  I’m quiet so long she finally asks.

  “What did you do, Tim? What did you do?”

  “I knew it was garbage night in your neighborhood, and I knew he was the one that always took it to the street. I waited behind your garage and jumped him when he came to haul the garbage cans out.”

  “Tell me it wasn’t you.” Her words are whisper soft.

  I hold her eyes, refusing to look away. Hers fill to brimming, and even in the low light I can see them shine. They piss me off. “He deserved it, Sara, every swing of that hammer. But he sure
as hell doesn’t deserve your tears.”

  She shakes her head. “They’re not for him.”

  I yank my head around and stare at the ceiling. “They damn sure better not be for me.” Her touch is soft on my arm. I don’t turn, but I can’t fight the pull that has my gaze dropping to her small hand, her creamy skin so pale against my tanned, inked flesh.

  She shakes my arm. “You did that for me—for me. And you’ve lived with it all these years.” There’s a catch in her throat, and my own tightens so hard that I wonder if I’ll be able to get a word out. Instead, I jerk a single nod, confirming it.

  “Irish, no one’s ever done anything so noble for me.”

  With that my eyes slice to hers. “You think you don’t deserve it? I wish you’d have told me yourself. I would have stopped him a hell of a lot sooner, Sara.”

  “I was afraid to tell you.”

  “Because you knew what I’d do.”

  She nods, then dips her head, and bursts out in sobs.

  Maybe I’ve ruined everything by telling her what I did. How could she ever love the man that killed her stepfather?

  I cup the back of her head and pull it to me, pressing my lips to the crown, breathing in the floral scent of her hair. It’s intoxicating, like fresh cut wildflowers, a mix that reminds me of the girl I once knew—a scent that will always be hers. I want to drown in it, I want to commit it to memory and never forget the way it makes me feel. Because in the deep dark part of my mind, I know she’s going to leave me again, and when she does, I don’t know how I’ll exist.

  15

  Green

  It’s morning when I finally blink open my eyes and remember where I am. I feel the warm body pressed against me and stroke my hands over Sara’s soft skin. I roll until I’m spooning her from behind, wrapping her up in my arms.

  She moans and moves against me.

  I dip my mouth to her ear. “You awake, baby?”

  “I am now.” She strokes her hand up my forearm, and I see the side of her cheek plump with her smile. I nuzzle my way down her neck and across her shoulder.

  “Irish.” Her voice is soft.

  “Hmm?” I continue kissing her skin.

  “I love you.” The words are barely there, and then gone like a wisp on the wind. Did I really hear them? Did she really say them after all this time?

  My motions still, my lips pressed to her skin. Once I lift them, she’ll expect the words back. I feel them. I know I do, down to my soul, but I’m afraid to say them, afraid to ask her to stay only to have her leave anyway. I said it once before, and it didn’t stop her. Her leaving drove me into a deep depression. I don’t know if I can stand it a second time. It terrifies me to risk my heart again. So, I guard it with steel walls.

  I take too long, and her body stiffens.

  Finally, I lift my mouth from her skin, not sure what I’m about to say, when her phone on the nightstand rings.

  She reaches for it, looks at the number, and pushes out of my arms to sit on the side of the bed. “Hello?”

  She listens for a moment, then stands, pulling the sheet with her, and wrapping it around her. She begins pacing.

  I study her stiff spine and shoulders, noting the tension there.

  “No, that’s wrong. It’s all been completed already. We’re not starting over from scratch.” She paces some more. “You’re joking. All of them?” More pacing. “All right. No, I’ll be there. Yes, my flight is at four p.m.”

  I grab my jeans off the floor, pull them on, and take my phone from the pocket to check the time. It’s already noon, and I know she’s got to get back to her hotel to pack. That doesn’t leave us any time.

  I run a hand down my jaw while she finishes the call. Goddamn it. I wanted more time with her, and now it’s over. She’ll be on a plane back to LA before dinnertime.

  I want her to stay, but it’s not fair to ask her. My club is here, and her work is there. It’s an impossible situation, one that feels strangely like déjà vu.

  She disconnects the call, and I turn to face her as she stands there in nothing but the sheet, her hair a tousled mess, and never looking sexier.

  “I have to leave,” she says softly.

  I give her a sad smile. “Seems we’ve been here before.”

  She nods and drops her head.

  I move to her, my hands closing over her upper arms. “Hey.”

  She lifts her face to mine.

  “I’m glad you came.”

  Her eyes fill with tears, and I know the reason. Even in my own ears, my words sound lame and so much less than what I feel for this woman.

  I cup her face and brush the wetness from her cheeks with my thumbs. “No tears. I do love you, Sara. I always have. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Why are things between us always so difficult?”

  I kiss the tip of her nose. “Just life, I guess.”

  “I have to go.”

  “I know you do.” I pull back. “Get dressed. I’ll take you back to your hotel.”

  16

  Sara

  Green rides us back to my hotel. It’s a lovely morning, with all the promise of a sunny warm day. The kind meant for a ride on the back of the bike. I wish we could just spend the day together. I wish we could ride up to the spot he took me to that first day. I know I’ll carry that memory with me forever, even if this is the end.

  All too soon, we pull into the hotel parking lot, and Green walks me up to my room.

  He stops me before I open the door.

  I turn to look at him, and an extreme sadness wells up inside me. He’s fading out of my life; I can feel it already.

  “I’m going to miss you, baby.”

  “Me too,” I reply. Please ask me to stay. The mantra repeats in my head in a loop.

  “Go back to LA, Sara. Go win that little gold statue. You deserve it. You deserve everything, so much more than I have to give you.” He presses his lips to my forehead, and then pulls back. “Be safe.”

  I feel my throat tighten, laughter silently bubbling up inside me but coming out in almost a cry, because the only man I’ve ever truly felt safe with is standing right in front of me. I step backward, moving into my hotel room. “Goodbye, Irish.”

  “Sara . . .” he moves then, putting a hand on the wall.

  “Don’t.” I shake my head.

  His jaw flexes, and his eyes glitter, but he stays silent watching me back into my room.

  I close the door, press my forehead to it and listen to his boot steps down the hall. Only when they fade away, do I burst into tears.

  17

  Green

  I roll back into the lot of the clubhouse, park, and climb off my bike. I pull my helmet off, hang it on the handlebars, and glance around the lot. There aren’t many bikes left. I spot Wolf’s and Crash’s among a couple I don’t recognize.

  I trudge inside pushing my shades up on my head. I glance toward the pool tables where my brothers are playing with a couple of guys from the War Dogs, a veterans club we’re close with.

  Wolf lifts his chin at me. I don’t return the gesture, instead I move to the end of the bar, sit on a stool and thump my knuckles on the bar top. My prospect, Billy, is behind it, and hustles over, already reaching into the tub of ice for a cold long neck, but I shake my head and point to a bottle of Jack Daniels up on the shelf behind his head.

  He sets it and a shot glass before me and retreats wisely to the other end of the bar, where he busies himself wiping down glasses.

  Smart kid, because I’m in no mood right now.

  I tip up the bottle and fill my shot glass. I down it and refill it. I throw that one back, too, and spot Wolf strolling toward me. Fuck.

  He sits across the corner from me and watches me refill the shot glass.

  “You okay, man?”

  I set the bottle down with a thump. “Yup.” My chopped off word is meant to discourage conversation, but this is Wolf we’re talking about, and he’s a stubborn son-of-a-bitch.

&nb
sp; He eyes the glass. “Where’s Sara?”

  “On her way to the airport, I guess.”

  “You guess?”

  “Yup.” In the mirror I see Cole walk through with an arm wrapped around Angel, his ol’ lady, and head up the stairs. They look happy and so much in fucking love that it makes me jealous. Something I’ve never been before. I mutter without thinking, “Why can’t I find love like that?”

  “I’d tell you the truth but it would feel like a donkey kick to the balls,” Wolf informs me, then lifts his long neck. “You know who will never let you down? Mr. Samuel Adams.”

  I lift my shot glass and clink to his bottle. “And Mr. Jack Daniels.” I’m quiet a moment before speaking again softly. “Sex and love are fucking complicated, aren’t they?”

  “That they are, brother.”

  “I’m not normally a jealous man, but when I think of Sara with someone else . . . I fucking want to lose it.”

  “You got it bad, bro.”

  Crash walks up. “We playin’ or what?”

  “Give me a minute,” Wolf glares at him.

  “Don’t get cranky with me, asshole. You’re holdin’ up the game.”

  Wolf ignores him, his attention back on me.

  Lucky me.

  “So, that’s it. You’re just gonna let her go?”

  I arc a brow. “Let her? This is the twenty-first century, brother. Women can do what the fuck they want, or hadn’t you heard?” Bitterness drips from my words, but I can’t help it or maybe I just don’t care enough to bother to hide my pain.

  They exchange a look, and Crash takes the stool next to Wolf. “Depressed and annoying, there’s a new combo.”

  “Thought you two had a game to get back to,” I say pointedly.

  “It’ll wait.” Wolf folds his arms and leans forward on his elbows. “Brother, didn’t you learn a fucking thing from what happened with me and Crystal?”

  “Can’t a man drink in peace around here?” I toss my third back.