Vengeance

by Kane Daemon

  “Great music. Great food. Great beer. Shitty people. Stay close.” He got on the bike, and I followed. He raised the flap to one of the bags attached to the motorcycle, and I caught the shimmer of a gun. Zane caught me staring. “Out here in the middle of nowhere, it’s best to have protection.” He patted me on the leg. “You have nothing to worry about.”

  An angry phone call. A gun. A seedy bar. Yeah, nothing to worry about at all.

  We pulled from the garage and out into the darkness. Obviously, the road and the countryside looked much different at night. It gave me the sense of driving off into oblivion, not knowing what waited twenty-feet ahead of you. From my left, I saw something dart from the road into the brush. Then I thought about mountain lions and wolves roaming the highway, waiting for an easy meal to fall off a bike.

  Thirty minutes after we left the house, we slowed and pulled into a crowded parking lot filled with mostly motorcycles, several pickup trucks, and one Beamer. Two rough-looking guys stood on the wrap-around porch, leaning against posts, smoking weed. I thought I heard Zane sigh in frustration but couldn’t be sure.

  Zane pulled to the side of the building near the dumpster where a man and woman made out. Neither looked up to see who had pulled in next to them.

  “Nice place,” I said. “I take it you come here often?”

  “Told you. Can’t beat the food.” He climbed from the bike and then helped me off. “I highly recommend the fried quesadillas.”

  “Fried quesadillas?”

  “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”

  Zane gently took my hand in his as if we’d had years of practice doing so. He led me to the front entrance, past the two guys smoking weed.

  “Who’s your ol’ lady?” one of the guys asked. He was the shorter of the two. Both wore black leather jackets, but from where I stood, I couldn’t see what was on the front. The back of the jackets was easy to read: Hell’s Justice.

  “Carrie, that’s Twitch, and that’s Mike.” Zane ushered me onto the porch to the front doors. Twitch and Mike waved and then went back to the joint they were sharing.

  “Aren’t you afraid someone will steal what’s in those bags on your bike?”

  Zane laughed and opened the door. The music blasted from inside with people dancing and talking loudly. Cigarette smoke pushed against the ceiling, trying to escape. Women, some hot as hell, some not, clung to men who looked like they could lift the roof off the bar. “Everyone knows it’s my bike. They won’t touch it or what’s in the bags.” I stepped inside, and Zane closed the door.

  The partying didn’t stop, but our entrance wasn’t missed. Zane led me by the small of my back to the bar and two empty stools. He put his hands around my waist and sat me on one of the seats. He took the other and, with his feet planted on the floor, spread his legs and turned me toward him.

  “What’re you having, Zane?” the bartender asked. He looked to be in his seventies, had a face-full of scruff, and wore a stained tee shirt. A towel lay over his right shoulder. He completely ignored my presence.

  “A beer for each of us.” Zane turned to me. “That okay?”

  “Yeah.” The bartender walked away to get the beers. He still ignored me. “What’s wrong with him?”

  “Spatty?” He motioned at the bartender. “He’s legally blind, has a fake left leg, and he lost his left nut to a land mine.”

  “Damn,” I’m sorry.

  Zane chuckled. “I just hope he brings us the right drinks. Last time I was here, he grabbed a bottle someone else had been drinking from and sat it down right in front of me.”

  I turned and watched Spatty get our beers from beneath the bar. He slowly made his way back to us and sat the beers on the bar. He still ignored me, but this time I smiled just in case. Zane clinked his beer bottle against mine, and the two of us drank.

  Two couples slow danced on the dance floor, but most everyone in the room laughed and threw back beers. Then I noticed Trucker and Stringer sitting in the back corner. A scantily clad woman sat in their laps. Trucker saw me watching him, and he raised his beer.

  “You like them young.”

  I turned to see a half-dressed woman snuggling up to Zane. She eyed me and turned up her bottle. Her lips glistened when she lowered it and sat it on the bar. She rested her hands on Zane’s shoulder. He avoided eye contact with me.

  “Move along, Stacy,” he said.

  “She’s what, thirty?” Stacy asked. Her lips were way too close to Zane’s ear. Close enough, she could lick it.

  I have no idea why I did what I did next and given a second chance I would not have. I grabbed Stacy’s beer from the bar and drank it. “I’m actually twenty-five.” I pointed at her and squinted. “I bet you’re what, around fifty?”

  Zane stared at me, wide-eyed.

  Stacy looked from her empty bottle then to me.

  Spatty paid attention to me.

  “You owe me a fucking beer, Zane.” Stacy removed her hands from Zane’s shoulders. She stared at me as if she wanted to start some shit but then decided not to. Zane nodded at Spatty, and he gave Stacy another beer.

  I had my hand resting on the bar, so I wasn’t too surprised when Spatty patted my hand and said, “Good girl.” He walked away, cleaning a glass he had in his hand.

  “You and I will be seeing each other again,” Stacy told me. She walked away, her blue jean shorts so far up her ass that I could probably reach down her throat and pull them out of her mouth. Her cowboy boots scuffed against the floor as she walked. I would have said her boobs bounce, but they were so small that they barely moved.

  “Sorry about that.” I finished my beer and studied the rest of the room.

  Zane seemed to be searching for the right words. “Can’t take you anywhere.” He smiled and finished his beer.

  “She brought out my white trash background. Who is she?” I actually didn’t really care but thought maybe he wanted to explain.

  “Nobody, really. We dated for a month or so. She wanted my mind exclusively, but I couldn’t do it. She got pissed and left.”

  “Sleep with her?” I needed to turn on a filter. “You don’t have to answer that. Another one of those questions I should not have asked.”

  “We fucked a few times,” he said and motioned for Spatty. “Two more beers.”

  Spatty placed two beers in front of us.

  A slow song came from the jukebox in the corner, and the dance floor emptied. “Let’s go.” Zane grabbed my hand, leaving our beers behind, and led me to the dance floor. The entire bar watched us.

  “We’re being watched.”

  Zane chuckled, and I relaxed. I loved his laugh, which was both deep and sexy. He grew hard against my stomach. “They’re jealous I have the hottest woman in the bar.”

  Score another point for Zane Legend.

  I clasped my hands behind his neck and leaned forward. “I’ve had a lot of fun the past two days. I’m glad my car broke down.”

  “Me too,” he said and leaned down.

  His lips were soft and full of magic. I was thankful he had both arms around me because I suddenly became a ragdoll. And though he broke the kiss, I stood there, eyes closed, my lips moving. Christmas had come early. Or maybe my birthday. Or perhaps the wish I made last week when I saw a shooting star had come true. I was suddenly, maddingly, and deeply in love with a man I’d known for only two days. Slow down, I warned myself.

  “Carrie?”

  I opened my eyes to see him staring at me. “Zane.”

  “Enough of that shit,” Trucker said, and I was suddenly aware the bar had quieted. Stringer stood next to Trucker. Stringer was nowhere near the size of Trucker.

  “We’re just dancing,” Zane said. The way he said it made it sound like a warning rather than just informational. “And I like this song.”

  “So did Amanda.” Trucker’s face turned red, at least the part not covered by a thick beard. That was a significant difference between Zane and the other guys in the bar. He
had no facial hair. That and he looked a hell of a lot sexier than any of the other guys in the bar. “I don’t think you want to bring a citizen into a place they don’t belong.”

  “When are you going to let me move on, Trucker. Do you think Amanda would approve of what you’re doing? You think she’d approve of what the club is doing?”

  “I got nothing to say to you while your daughter is here with you.”

  “I’m not his daughter,” I said. “Though I do call him Daddy sometimes.”

  Zane’s mouth curled in a smile.

  “She doesn’t belong here, Zane.” Trucker walked away, but Stringer stayed.

  “You have something to say, Stringer?” Zane faced the man and then moved me to the side. The entire bar watched us.

  “Nah. I’m good.” He patted the VP patch on his jacket. “Outsider.” Stringer left and joined Trucker back at their table.

  Zane and I finished the next two slow songs and then returned to the bar.

  “He ain’t gonna like her being here,” Spatty said to Zane. He motioned over his shoulder at a picture hanging on the wall. It was of Trucker, Amanda, and Zane. “He don’t care no more about what she might have thought.”

  “Yeah, I know. But I’m not leaving Arizona anytime soon. He’s going to have to get over it.”

  “Want something from the grill? Be closing it down here shortly.” Spatty cleaned another glass with the dirty towel draped over his shoulder.

  “We’re good, thanks.”

  Spatty walked away to help another customer.

  “Trucker always like that?”

  Zane shrugged, and I knew then it would always be a sore subject. “And when have you called me, Daddy?” He laughed, and I enjoyed his laugh. I also enjoyed the fact I could make him laugh. “Hey, Spatty. Two bottles of water to go.”

  “Heading home so early?” I asked. I hoped we were not leaving on my account.

  Zane shook his head. “There’s a place I want to show you. It’s close to the house. I’m not sure anyone else knows about it.”

  Spatty returned with two bottles of water, and Zane laid a fifty on the bar. He looked back at Trucker, and then we walked outside.

  “We need you back,” Twitch said and fired up a second joint.

  “You know I can’t do that.”

  Twitch followed us off the porch. He looked back at Mike, who nodded. “The club is going to shit, man. Trucker needs someone with some smarts helping him out. Stringer’s an asshole that doesn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground.”

  “I’ve got a business to run, Twitch. You know that.” I could see on Zane’s face that it pained him not to help.

  Twitch looked at me. “Talk some sense into him.” He returned to the porch and handed Mike the joint.

  Zane led me around to his bike and helped me onto it. He didn’t say anything about Twitch’s request, and once again, I didn’t press the issue.

  We pulled from the bar just before midnight and headed back toward the house. You never really noticed how beautiful the stars were until you had someone to enjoy them with you. I saw Venus and a dozen constellations I remembered from a college astronomy class. Yeah, I'd tried the college route but found myself missing class more than I attended. Maybe the booze had something to do with that. Two semesters later, the university told me to take a couple of semesters off. I trumped them by never returning. But something about astronomy class made me remember things. Maybe because when dealing with the stars, sort of like dealing with men, you dreamed about what was out there.

  Twenty minutes into the ride, Zane turned off onto a bumpy road that led directly into the mountains. We went slow, and as we did, I looked around for mountain lions and wolves.

  He droves us through a slender break in the mountains and then stopped.

  “What in the world is that?” I jumped from the bike and approached the pool of water with caution, looking for that wolf or mountain lion. I was sure it awaited to eat me.

  Zane moved next to me and then began removing his clothes. The phosphorescent pink of the water shined against his skin when his shirt was off. “It won’t hurt us.” He removed his black boots and then shimmed out of his pants and boxer-briefs. And there it was. Right before my eyes. And then it was gone as he jumped into the water. “It’s not deep at all.” He nodded at the bike. “There are towels in one of the bags.”

  “You had this planned,” I said. “Very impressive.” I started removing my clothes and felt him watching me the entire time, like a kid in a candy store. Was I out in the middle of Arizona with a stranger, stripping down to my birthday suit? Hell yeah. “Is it cold?”

  “Not at all. A hot spring feeds it about a hundred yards north.” He moved back a little. “Come on in. There’s something else I want to show you.”

  “It better not be cold!” I moved to the edge and took a deep breath before jumping in. I went under quick and never felt the bottom. Quickly two hands grabbed my waist and brought me to the surface. I gasped and took a huge breath. “Fucking feels wonderful.”

  “I told you.” He turned me away and then pulled me back against his chest. His cock, hard and hot, snaked between my thighs. He then pointed above us where there was a hole in the side of the mountain near the top. From where we were, we could see Venus and only Venus.

  “It’s beautiful,” I said. Even with the hunk of a man behind me, I didn’t want to turn away from the scenery.

  Zane’s arms surrounded me, and I felt as if Superman had me in his grasp. I was no longer afraid of wolves or mountain lions or his past. I just wanted to think about the present. “Your car is ready. I had them give it the once over.”

  “What do I owe you?” Whatever the amount was, I hoped he’d take an IOU. Had I mentioned my bank account had a bunch of zeros and no other numbers?

  Zane turned me in his arms. His cock pressed between my legs, but that’s as far as he went. “You owe me nothing but your company for as long as you like. How does that sound?”

  I looked down at his chest and the tattoos. “You know, I keep wondering when this is going to end. Things like this don’t happen to me.” I looked into his eyes. “I’m sure you can do better than me.” I sounded pitiful but wanted to put it all out there. “You’ve only known me a couple of days.”

  “I could tell you it feels like I’ve known you a lifetime.”

  “And then I’d tell you you were full of shit.”

  He laughed, and I melted. “Seriously, though. The car is free. One human helping another. As far as you sticking around? You can go anytime you want. But I'd prefer you hanging around.”

  “What about Trucker and the club? It sounds like I’d be more of a burden than anything else.”

  “He’s been pulling that shit ever since Amanda died. I’ll have to deal with it.”

  I placed my hands on his chest. “Something I guess I don’t understand. Why does he care?”

  “Amanda was his sister.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Zane

  Using the remote on the nightstand, I turned off the walls, and the sun came beaming through the glass. I’d slept a hell of a lot longer than I should have and longer than I usually did on a Sunday.

  I turned to my side and watched Carrie as she slept, wrapped up in a cocoon of sheet and comforter that she stole from me in the middle of the night. She showered when we got home last night, and by the time I finished my own, she fell asleep.

  Was it okay to drag her into the club mess? Probably not. For that reason, I decided to let her be on her way. Club life wasn’t for most people, and although I was on the outside looking in, I knew deep down I was being pulled back into the fray.

  She didn’t say anything about Trucker and Amanda once she learned their relationship. We swam around for another ten minutes and then headed home.

  I moved her hair back from her face and gently kissed her forehead. Fuck, I didn’t want to see her leave.

  In the kitchen, I started a pot of coffee and
made a bowl of oatmeal. It was an older man’s breakfast. Damn, maybe she was too young?

  “I smell maple oatmeal.”

  I turned to find Carrie standing in the kitchen, wrapped in a robe, the sun shining perfectly against her body. She had nothing on beneath the robe. “I guess you want some?”

  “I want yours.”

  “Nah, I have to draw the line somewhere.” I stood and grabbed a bowl from the cabinet. Carrie took a seat at the table and began eating my oatmeal.

  “Thank you, by the way,” she said.

  “For my oatmeal?”

  “For kissing me on the forehead. Nobody’s ever done that before.” She smiled and took another bite of my oatmeal. “Except for my father when I was little.”

  “That means you’re going to start calling me Daddy?”

  “Absolutely, Dad.” She laughed and finished my oatmeal by the time I had hers made. I sat across from her, and she stood to make herself a cup of coffee. She brought the pot over and topped off my cup. I turned in my seat, and she sat on my knee, draping her arm across my shoulders. “Please tell me you wear more than your boxer-briefs around the house every morning.”

  “I do not. And you’re lucky I have them on.”

  “I fell asleep in my bed last night,” she said and sipped her coffee.

  “Hope you don’t mind, but yeah, I scooped you up and brought you to my bed.” No, we didn’t do anything. “I thought a lot about things last night while you slept.”

  “Here it comes,” she said and moved back to her seat.

  “I think you need to know what you would be getting yourself into if you stayed.” I moved my spoon around the oatmeal but didn’t eat. Finally, someone, I wanted to keep around, and I was trying to send her away. Sometimes I made no sense to myself.

  “Lay it on me, Zane.” She crossed her legs and then her arms. Her face said, let's get this over with.

  “Trucker blames me for Amanda’s death. He says I should have been around to protect her.”

  “You can’t protect people twenty-four-seven.”

  “He didn’t see it that way. He sees it as I let her down. That I killed her by not being there. He thinks it was a hit by another club. He didn’t say why he thought that.”