Blade

by Aiden Bates

  “Can’t tell you how glad I am to have her back,” I said, but my voice wasn’t convincing even to my own ears. I rifled through my wallet, thumbing past maxed-out credit card after maxed-out credit card, until I found one I knew had a couple thousand dollars left before the limit. “What do I owe you?”

  “Son.”

  “I might have to split it between two cards.”

  “Logan.” Maverick had a deep furrow in his forehead. “You really think I’m going to charge you for this after what you did for Heath?”

  “I—what?”

  “You saved Heath’s life,” Maverick said slowly, like I was an idiot. “I’m not going to charge you for your car repair. If this car hadn’t been in this shop, and you hadn’t been around, Heath would be dead. Those guys think I have actual medical prowess, but I can only handle minor cuts and scrapes. If you hadn’t jumped in, he would’ve bled out on my floor.”

  “That has nothing to do with me,” I said. “I’m a nurse. That’s what nurses do. It’s muscle memory, an automatic response.”

  “Sounds like that has everything to do with you,” Maverick said. “Put your wallet away.”

  “Maverick.” A lump formed high in my throat.

  “This is not up for debate.” He handed me the keys. “Start her up. Tell me if it feels any different.”

  Closing my fingers over the familiar shape of my keys, I identified the burn in my chest as not gratitude. It was more than that. It was disbelief. The increasingly familiar but still unlikely feeling of being appreciated.

  I left the garage and pulled the car out onto the street. It did feel different: tighter brakes, better acceleration, smoother gear-shifting. Maverick had nearly rebuilt the car. I clenched the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white.

  The voicemail I’d received late last night rang in my head. “Call back with information,” my father had slurred into the phone. “Before I send someone down there to get it from you in person.”

  Crave was growing suspicious. Soon he’d follow my trail into Elkin Lake and arrive pissed and raring to wring my neck.

  The fantasy was over. If I wanted a life, I had to leave. I couldn’t put Hell’s Ankhor at risk, or myself, or Blade. I’d let myself get wrapped up in the dream of a life where I wasn’t on the run, a life with a community and friends and a future. A life where I could find love. Stupid. It was a fling. There’d be other flings, other communities. The only future was the highway ahead of me. The only thing that could save me from my father was distance. A new life, and with it, a new self. Far away from the motorcycle clubs and everything that came with them.

  I drove down Elkin Lake’s main strip, past Elkhead Coffee, past the bookstore with the fat cat in the window, past Ballast, and toward the highway. In my rearview mirror, the mountains stood tall and blue and unchanging, shielding the lake from the rest of the world.

  I approached the ramp to the highway.

  I was free.

  But, a small voice inside me whispered: is running freedom?

  A life away from Elkin Lake was a life without my father. But it was also a life without Blade: without his big booming laugh and his smile that broke his face in half and crinkled the corners of his eyes, without the way he leaned into me when he listened, without the comforting strength of his arms around me, without the smell of sandalwood and leather when he held me close, without his soft lips on mine sending heat searing through my body.

  He’d fixed my car and given me a place to stay. He’d folded me into his life at the club and introduced me to his family. I had people here I almost considered friends. Leaving the club life behind was the only way I could ensure my own safety. But at the same time, how could I leave without saying goodbye? Selfishly, riskily, foolishly: I turned the car around.

  I pulled into the gravel lot of Hell’s Ankhor clubhouse. The Sundance looked ridiculous next to the well-loved motorcycles. An unfamiliar warmth filled me at the sight of the house. What was it like for the members here? Coffee on the wraparound front porch in the morning, beer and campfires in the backyard at night? A place to crash when you needed it—a refuge?

  A port in a storm?

  I approached the door then knocked a few times. Without waiting for an answer, I opened it and peered inside. “Anyone home?”

  Priest sat at the kitchen island working on his laptop. On the couch, Siren sat stock-still with a video game controller in her hand. Coop was standing next to her, wriggling with exertion and pushing the buttons on the controller full-force.

  “Yo!” Coop called. “She’s kicking my ass!”

  Siren winked. “Hey, Logan.”

  Heath sat in an armchair in the common room as well, his feet kicked up on the coffee table as he thumbed through a book. “I already learned not to play her, Coop.” He stood up and walked in front of the television, which made Coop wail in despair as his virtual Porsche crashed into a wall. “Hey, Logan.”

  “How are you feeling?” I asked. “How’s everything healing?”

  “Really good, man. Really good.” Heath’s cheeks were full and flushed with color. He moved with a little stiffness where the healing gash pulled his skin tight, but he didn’t look to be in pain.

  “Good,” I said. “Get those stitches taken out at an urgent care. I’m begging you.”

  Heath wrapped me in a quick, tight hug. “I owe you.”

  “People keep saying that,” I said, muffled. “You’re crushing me.”

  With a laugh, Heath released me and squeezed my shoulders, like he could convey gratitude by sheer physical exertion. “Thank you.”

  I nodded, biting back a smile.

  “There’s some coffee still on.” Priest nodded towards the percolator on the counter.

  “Thanks,” I murmured. I joined him at the kitchen island.

  I’d never been inside the clubhouse until now; I’d only really seen the backyard that day Blade had brought me here for target practice. But as soon as I walked in, I felt safe and welcomed. Some tense ball of anxiety, long-held deep inside me, loosened and relaxed just the smallest amount.

  Something like coming home.

  The cold fear the voicemail from my dad instilled still lingered. But it wasn’t so paralyzing in the face of this acceptance that felt a little like family, like protection. I’d figure something out. I always did.

  A door creaked open in the back hallway, and Blade stepped out of his office and into the common room.

  Did the hullabaloo actually cease when I saw him or did I just stop hearing it?

  Blade grinned at me in greeting and leaned against the wall. In a white t-shirt and jeans with his dark hair hanging loose, he looked ready to hop on his bike and ride, except for his lack of shoes.

  The vulnerability of his bare feet on the floor made my heart twist with affection. The strength of my desire to be close to him surprised me, even after the time we’d spent together. Without thinking too hard about it, I crossed the distance between us and hooked my fingers into the belt loops of his jeans then pulled him into a kiss.

  He wrapped his hands around my hips when I pulled away. “Hey, you.”

  “Hey.”

  Siren wolf-whistled.

  “Get a room!” Coop shouted. “I gotta focus here!”

  “Maverick told me your car’s all fixed,” Blade said. “But you’re still here.” His tone was carefully light, but his brow was furrowed. Guilt cracked across me like a slap. I’d been so close to disappearing and riding the highway away from all this without saying a word. And that’s what Blade had expected me to do. He asked the question so carefully; he was still careful of overstepping my boundaries, but from the possessive grip of his hands on my hips, I knew he was relieved I hadn’t left.

  I’d come to say goodbye. To end whatever this was on good terms and disappear.

  But I couldn’t pull away. Not when Blade’s concerned gaze captured mine. I was so used to being on my own—used to being used, or demeaned, or beat up. I�
�d forgotten what it was like to have someone look at me like that—like he cared. The pain of anticipating our goodbye stunned me with its depth.

  I didn’t want to leave him. Even if it meant hiding who I was. It was worth it, if it meant I could spend a little more time in Blade’s arms.

  “Not ready to head out yet, I guess.”

  He kissed me again and then his smile met my own. “You wanna go for a ride?”

  The thought of riding on the back of a motorcycle sent a spike of anxiety through me. I still carried a nervous aversion to them, like how some people dislike snakes. I was fine being around the bikes, even respected the care and love the Hell’s Ankhor guys lavished onto them, but I didn’t want to ride one. “You know I don’t know how.”

  “You don’t have to. But you’ll be with me. I’ll keep you safe.”

  What was a memory of a painful past for me was a livelihood for Blade—a source of love and pride. He wanted to draw me closer. This was Blade extending his hand.

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll ride with you.”

  He took my hand then brought my fingers to his mouth to kiss them.

  “Get the camera,” Siren said. “We’ll make a fortune.”

  Blade rolled his eyes and lazily flipped her the bird.

  Riding on the back of a bike was not a passive activity. It was a manifestation of trust, from both of us—though Blade didn’t know how well I knew that. He trusted me to ride behind him and mimic his movements, letting our two bodies and the machine interconnect. The passenger gave up all control to the driver. If they didn’t, a crash was imminent.

  At the front door, Blade tugged his steel-toed riding boots back on. He hopped awkwardly on one foot to pull the boot over his heel.

  “Come on, tough guy,” I said through a laugh.

  “Can it, they’re new,” Blade groused.

  “Going on a ride?” Coop asked. “Ooh, romantic!”

  “Siren, won’t you throw him into an armbar for me?” Blade asked.

  “Oh, shit, no!”

  “Blade, Logan,” Priest said. He nodded at us from the kitchen island. “Enjoy it.” Then he turned back to his laptop. As if this was an everyday occasion. My heart clenched.

  We closed the door on the whump of Siren tackling Coop to the floor and Coop’s repeated shouts of “Uncle!”

  “Over here,” Blade said, motioning me toward the bike parked closest to the clubhouse. He ran a hand across its black leather saddle. The body was so polished, our reflections shone side-by-side in the black paint. “What do you think?” It had spotless chrome detailing and a beefed-up twin cylinder engine. The only dirt on the bike was on the tires.

  “Gorgeous,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Blade agreed. But he was looking at me.

  Blade rode fast.

  I pressed my cheek into the soft, worn leather of his motorcycle jacket, keeping my arms wrapped snug around his waist. The lush green landscape of Elkin Lake rushed past in a blur, so different without the separation of a car. The air was crisp and cool as it rushed by carrying the smell of clean lake water, dirt, asphalt, and rubber. I closed my eyes. Beneath my seat the bike rumbled hot and powerful, just like Blade’s torso under my hands. His heart beat steadily in my ear; the slow, relaxed rise and fall of his back as he breathed had me matching it until we shared a rhythm. All I had to do was let the bike take me where Blade wanted to go. And God, I was ready to ride forever.

  We rode past the turnoff Blade used when he’d first taken me to the lake. Instead, Blade guided his rumbling bike further up into the mountains. The winding road narrowed and narrowed until it was barely a single lane, and the lake was far in the valley below us. We turned off the road onto an even narrower unpaved dirt road, and Blade maneuvered slow and careful through the trees until we reached a small overlook.

  He parked the bike. I climbed off then removed my helmet. I missed the heat of Blade’s body immediately.

  The overlook was a small clearing on the edge of a cliff. The lake was about a hundred feet below, a smooth gorgeous dark pool of color like some old god had spilled his paint during the creation. A few birds sang in the trees near us, and the wind rustled through the leaves. I breathed slow and deep, letting the clean, crisp air run through me. “This is amazing,” I murmured.

  Blade sidled up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. He tugged me close then propped his chin on the top of my head. “Nice, huh? Don’t tell anyone about this place.”

  “No one knows?”

  “Nope. Just me. And now you.”

  Blade stretched out on the blanket with a happy hum like a big cat. I sat beside him, running one hand over his upper thigh and hip. I tucked my knees into my chest and gazed out over the lake. The immensity of the sky and the water and the mountains soothed me. Reminded me of my inherent smallness. Whatever happened with me, with Blade, with my father—the lake would still be here. And somewhere in the lake would be the memory of this moment. That could be enough.

  Blade turned onto his side. He slid his hand under the hem of my shirt to run his warm palm gently over my back.

  “Hey, Logan.”

  “Hm?”

  “You remember at Elkhead Coffee, when I tried to bribe you with coffee? A coffee refill in exchange for a little knowledge?”

  My stomach twisted into a knot immediately, the familiar tightness of danger quickly chasing away the relaxation from the ride. “Yeah, I remember.”

  “Can I try to bribe you again?”

  I sighed. “Blade…”

  “Let me tell you a little about me,” he said. “You can ask me whatever. Then maybe, after that…” He rolled flat onto his back again and folded his hands on his chest. His eyes flickered closed. He just opened one eye to gauge my response, then closed it again. “I’m from Fresno. Originally. And that’s where I did my stint in juvie, from age fifteen to eighteen. For bullshit. I robbed a convenience store because we had no money. But the two guys I was with, who were older than me, ditched me. I stole a car. Crashed it into a house. A whole fiasco. So, three years in juvie. When I got out, there was no one waiting for me. I had been in foster care, so I guess the courts figured they’d lock me up until I was eighteen then they could legally just leave me on the streets.”

  I gripped his thigh.

  “It’s fine, now,” Blade said. “It was a long time ago. I’m telling you this because I want you to know I had nothing before this club. Nothing. So anyway, I went to LA, because why not? Good weather, lots of space, pretty good place to be homeless. I lied about my age to get a job bouncing at a bar. That’s where I met the former president, Ankh—he was just Aaron, then. He kept coming to the bar, asking me about myself, asking all these weird questions. And eventually he asked me where I was staying. I dunno how he figured out that I was spending my nights in shelters and alleys. But he did, and he told me he needed more guys to work enforcement in his club, and he could offer me a place to stay and a paycheck. I thought it was a gig, you know. A gig with benefits. But it was so much more than that.

  “This was over a decade ago. Ankh was like a father to me, you know. After a childhood of foster homes and then my teenage years in gangs and in juvie, he gave me a purpose. Didn’t just teach me about bikes, you know. It was all the other shit, leadership, family, all that. I’d never had that. Priest is the one who gave Ankh his club name, you know that? Ankh was straight until he met Priest. But they just clicked. Soulmates. Priest called him Ankh for renewal and life. Because that’s what they wanted this club to be—a new life, a second chance. For all its members.”

  Blade paused and took a deep breath. He scrubbed his hands roughly over his face. “Look at me, getting all worked up.”

  “You miss him,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Blade said. “God, yeah. Everyone does. I know it seems all right, generally, but people are struggling. That’s why I worry about the drugs popping up.” He sighed. “But I can’t look too worried or it’ll scare everyone else. But we’
re weak right now. We’re weak from his loss.”

  I lay down on the blanket next to him. Blade stretched one arm out behind my head, and I tucked my face into his shoulder. We hadn’t talked about the drugs since that day at the lake. Blade’s breath was so even and steady for a moment that it seemed like he could’ve been asleep. He didn’t push or pry. He just waited.

  I spent a long time fighting with the tight knot of anxiety in my gut. But eventually I was able to close my eyes tightly and speak.

  “My mom died when I was ten,” I said. That wasn’t exactly related to everything that had driven me away from San Francisco and into Elkin Lake. But it often felt like the most important part of my past. “She was… She was a good person. She was really important to me. My dad’s a drunk and a psycho. He beat her, and me, a lot. He beat my brother, too, but not as much. My brother’s older, and he was more like Dad. I was more like Mom. So when my brother hit his teens, he became Dad’s little protégé. Then, when Mom died, there was no one for Dad to beat up on but me.”

  “So it wasn’t a boyfriend who knocked you around, huh?”

  “Nope. Dear old Dad.”

  “Jesus.”

  “That’s why I went to nursing school. I wanted to be self-sustaining. So I could support myself entirely without him.” And I wanted to help others the way no one had been able to help me.

  “What about your brother?”

  “He and I don’t speak.” I sighed.

  “You miss him?” Blade’s fingers brushed through my hair.

  I missed Luke in awful, sudden bursts. I’d accepted a long time ago that we couldn’t have a relationship, not while he was on Dad’s side. But he was still my brother. Part of me still admired him in that childish way all younger brothers do. “Yeah, I miss him.”

  “What happened with nursing school?”

  “I was working in San Francisco originally, at a hospital there. I thought that would be enough, you know? Get my own place far away from them. Even though we were in the same city. I didn’t think he would—” I squeezed my eyes tightly closed against the hot prickling of tears. “He started showing up at my workplace, strung out. Or he’d try to break into my apartment, stuff like that. I was just trying to get away.” I tried to roll away, but Blade just tugged me closer into him. “I was trying to get to LA when my car broke down. I’d just had enough. I didn’t think about it. I just threw my shit in a bag and left. And it broke down here.”