DESERT KING: RB MC

by Jax Hart

  “Where did you meet?”

  “At the Triple XXX outside of Albuquerque…”

  “What?” She guffaws. “This is some story…”

  “He got into some weird fight club match with Edge.”

  “You were with Edge.”

  “No… well, kind of… maybe?”

  “That explains it. Edge is his nemesis. The two of them are huge rivals.”

  “Ah, dueling MC’s and all that.”

  “No. It was Mandy.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “Tarak’s fiancé. She dated them both. Left Edge for Tarak.”

  “She dated them both?”

  “Lucky girl, right? But she’s not she died.”

  “That’s terrible. Was it during the pandemic?”

  “Before. They fought over her. Edge went crazy with jealousy. Tarak was on a run north with the MC and Edge took advantage. He showed up at her house. The story gets crazy… some say she cheated on Tarak with Edge. The best guesses are she was filled with shame, left Edge in bed and took off in her truck. It was late, dark and she was going well over a hundred miles an hour. There was alcohol in her system—the tracks left on the road suggested she swerved trying to avoid something and lost control. The truck flipped and rolled killing her. Tarak hit the roof. There was an all-out brawl at her funeral when Edge showed up. They started shouting at each other and then Edge dropped the bomb that she was leaving Tarak to get back with him. He told Tarak that she had been with him before the accident. Tarak went loco on his ass.”

  “I’ll bet. Wow. No wonder they beat each other up again at the Triple XXX. But what do I have to do with any of it? Why does Tarak hate me? I only met Edge twice.” What I don’t say is how his kiss made me feel or the fact that I owe him three.

  “Probably because you resemble her a bit.”

  “What? Me? Now, that’s crazy. There’s no way I resemble a girl two men like that would ever go to war over.”

  “She was petite like you. Brunette… but she was tan you are—”

  “Tell me about it. I know I’m pale as shit.”

  “You want a self-tanner.”

  My nose wrinkles. “No. I’ll work on it the old-fashioned way.”

  “You’ll fry.”

  “Probably. Anyway, can you show me how to apply all this stuff?”

  Ten minutes and two-hundred-dollars later, I’m out the door. A light wind blows back my new hair. I find Tommy’s Tacos, placing an order to go. The bag swings from my hands as I navigate the streets back to my rental.

  The complex is eerily quiet. Not that I’ve really bothered to make friends or meet people. But it’s just past dusk and there’s no lights on. Only a few cars sit, parked around the back of the building.

  Clutching my takeout bag to my chest, I insert the key into the lock. My boxes and bags are creepy lumps sitting in the dark.

  Instinctively, I flip the light switch. But something’s off. There’s an oppressive silence. The same silence that greeted me before I even stepped foot in here. Someone’s been here. My things are tossed about. Bags I never opened are untied, their contents in piles.

  But my door was locked? I grab a candlestick, clutching it tight. With my back to the wall, I inch around the corner, trying to peer into the small bedroom.

  “What the fuck?” I hiss. I should be afraid, instead I’m enraged. I charge forward, raising my weapon. She spins, holding a small gun. She’s in my bed with her boots on. A glass of my wine sits on the nightstand with the stain of her deep pink lips around the rim.

  “You interrupted. I was just getting to the good part where you had crazy sex dreams about your male nurse in Tampa.”

  My cheeks heat. “That’s private!”

  “Not anymore. You’re a damn good writer. Your talents are wasted in your diary.”

  She’s crazy.

  A crazy, beautiful woman. She lights a blunt, bringing it to her lips. Each of her fingers are covered in stacked rings. Beaded and leather bracelets cuff both her wrists.

  “What do you want?”

  “You gone.”

  “And he sent you to make me?” I roll my eyes. The woman is almost as tiny as me.

  “Can we talk about this?”

  “No.” She exhales, flipping the page of my purple book of secrets. She lays her blunt down on the small table next to the bed.

  “Are you really going to shoot me?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Bullshit.” I lunge, catapulting myself on the bed. We fight over my book. She drops her gun in an effort to grab it with her other hand. We roll and roll, kicking, panting, punching.

  She lands on top of me. Grabs my wrists and pins them above my head. Her knee presses down on me. I bite my lip. The pressure feels good.

  “You like that?”

  “No.” I swallow hard, feeling my nipples straining. She bends down, sniffing my neck.

  “You smell like desperation.”

  I buck, trying to get her off me, but I have nothing. I need to start weight training.

  She moves her mouth to my lips. “If you tell, anyone about this, I will kill you.”

  Her soft lips land on mine. She moves, grinding her mound against my jeans. I’m not into women but just being touched and seduced feels so damn good. The feel of a warm hand and a mouth on me has me craving for sex, affection, and intimacy.

  It’s over just as abruptly as it started. “I’m not into women either.”

  “Then what the hell was that?” I wipe her kiss off my mouth with the back of my hand.

  “I’m high. You look sexy as fuck and the man I want is still in love with a dead girl.”

  “I have food and a half bottle of wine?”

  She gets off me. “We’re not friends. He wants you gone. So, get gone. I’ll give you until Sunday.”

  “Or what? You’ll jump me again?”

  “Please. You looked good but your kiss is boring as fuck.”

  “Really? Tell Tarak, Edge didn’t think so.” I smile smugly, knowing how much Tarak hates Edge.

  “What?” Her head snaps up. Murder is back in her eyes. She picks up her gun. Looks like I hit her neve instead of his.

  “Are you his ex or something?”

  “Or something.” She bares her tiny, perfect teeth at me. “I don’t know who the fuck you are, horny COVID girl. But I need you to blow out of town as quickly as you came in. Don’t make trouble for my brother and me. If you mess with us, we’ll take you out to the desert and let it decide your fate.”

  “You’re his sister?”

  I study her closer. Her skin has the same bronze gold brown color, her eyes aren’t as dark, but the strong bone structure in her face is similar but softer at the cheek. “My brother hates you and I can see why.”

  “You can?”

  “You’re a vixen. A seductress. Even I wanted a taste and I’m straight as the arrows my ancestors used in battle.”

  “Me a seductress?” I collapse on the bed, laughing until tears spring from my eyes. “Bitch, please. These inverted tits and boney ass can’t seduce shit.”

  She slaps me hard across the face. “Sunday. You, Gone. Get it?”

  “Or what?” I spit, grabbing her hair hard. She slaps me again and I punch her in the stomach. She rolls off me to the floor. “Make it Saturday. And when I come back it won’t be just be. I’ll have the Royal Bastards with me.” She slams the door. The cheap windows rattle.

  “I’m calling the police on your ass!” I scream after her, already hunting for my cell.

  The door flies back open. “Do it. They’ll have a good laugh. My name’s Regan Cassadore. Make sure you tell Greg that when he answers dispatch.”

  With the phone pressed to my ear, I make the call, calling her bluff.

  “Local dispatch is this an emergency?”

  “Yes. I-I was assaulted by an intruder in my apartment.”

  “Are they still there?”

  “She... just left.”

  �
��She?”

  “Regan. Regan Cassadore.”

  “Is this the brown mouse?”

  “What?!”

  “You have till Friday.”

  The call ends.

  She laughs from the open door. “My brother’s the king. You think the cops will help you when my brother protected them all? Kept their families fed and safe?”

  She must be talking about the pandemic. Jenny filled me in on some of what had happened here. This mountain town tucked away in the desert was surrounded by Tarak and his knights riding their horses made of chrome.

  “Unbelievable.” I mutter, crossing the floor and slamming the door shut. I slip the chain lock in place and try not to cry.

  I sit alone on an empty box feeling the vast loneliness of my life wash over me. Some fresh start. I should just go back home. At least I was loved there.

  My cheek’s swelling. I get up, eyeing myself in the mirror. My almost beautiful face is a mess of smeared makeup and wild bed hair. It was just a mask. Underneath I feel ugly. Ugly, mousy me.

  “Shit!” I kick a box over. “Arghhh!” I sweep an arm out, knocking all the picture frames over I had started to set out. Picking up my forgotten about food. I reheat it in the microwave, drink the rest of my wine straight from the bottle and decide. Will I run back into my hole and hide? Or can I make a stand against that weird beautiful bitch and her clan of bastards? Pacing around the two small rooms, I search my heart for the answer when my eyes land on deep purple. Twisted in the sheets are my words. The ones I wrote down when I was at the most vulnerable point in my life.

  Sinking down, I open the page she had folded over.

  I’ve been called many names. But survivor was never one of them. I’m determined to add it to the top of the list. I’ve been depressed and lost for so long that when I first got sick, part of me was relieved. Relieved to maybe just let go. But now that I’ve survived and am off the respirator, all I crave is to bust out of these sterile walls and fly free. I’ve wasted all the good days. I wish I could take them back. Countless sunny days filled with blue skies that I took for granted, too lost inside my own spinning globe of self-pity to realize I had the world in my hands the whole time.

  I want a bad romance and then a great one. I want a life filled with purpose and meaning not one where you just drift through. I want to lift my face to the brightest sunny day and not waste it.

  Dan was on third shift last night. I blushed when he held the cool, damp cloth over my heated skin. The fever was coming back despite my meds and he thought that he was helping. Instead he only made me hotter. I was moaning in pain. So much pain, and when he squeezed the cloth, letting the cool water fall on my skin and run down my naked breasts under my thin, cotton gown, I almost came off the bed. He thinks it’s all the virus, but I have the hots for him. My thighs were sticky and wet. I swear he knew what he was about. Through his mask and protective glasses, I saw the wicked gleam in his eyes when he asked, “What can I do to make you feel better?”

  His scrubs were stretched tight over his biceps. My mouth was dry. He fed me ice chips and I ached to bite down on his gloved finger. Even through all his protective gear, I could see he was hot and bothered too.

  “Damn, baby, test negative.” The plea fell from his sexy lips.

  I sighed, feeling my insides combust. I was covered in sweat and lust. When he placed the last ice chip in my mouth, I sucked on the tip of his gloved finger…

  Beep. Beep. Beep. My IV drip was out, the machine was making noises. I was all alone. Did I pass out? Fall asleep?

  Dan was nowhere to be seen. Did it happen? Was it the drugs? The fever? The virus? The doctors had said other patients were having vivid hallucinations. I chalked it up to that. But then the day I was discharged when Dan wheeled me down the halls through the cheers and clapping of his peers, he bent low against my ear, “I knew you’d test negative baby. I’ll hit you up.”

  Boy did I want him to do just that. But Dan forgot about me. Or maybe he just met someone else. Either way he gave me a glimpse of all the passion in life I had been missing.

  No wonder Regan jumped me. My own words make me feel horny. I fan myself, grab an ice water and make a plan. I’m not going back when I’ve done so much to move forward.

  I stuff my things back into bags and boxes, take a lukewarm shower, and stare out at the stars from the window by the bed. Tomorrow the sun will rise, and I will lift my face to the new sunny day just like I promised myself, I would.

  7

  Tarak

  The taste of bitter ash fills my mouth. I swallow hard, fueled by anger and the need to crush Edge. The only reason why I haven’t killed him yet is that if I did, his soul would reunite with hers first. Picturing the two of them in eternity together burns my ass just as much as knowing he had her once on Earth.

  I slow my bike down as we approach the spot in the road where Mandy lost control. “What happened that night, babe? ‘Cause I know you’d never cheat on me.” The wind carries my question but as always, she never answers. I’ve been angry at God for so long, maybe he won’t let her answer even if she could. I’ve been looking for signs everywhere since she passed, knowing our love was so strong that surely, she’d find a way to let me know existence goes on. But I’ve had nothing from heaven. No signs. No message.

  I wave the men riding with me to go ahead, while I pull off by the wood cross set in the dirt.

  I say a prayer. People might think men like me don’t pray but they wouldn’t know shit. I don’t pray for myself but for her, my family, my men…I’m their desert king and it’s my duty to ensure their safety at all costs.

  I know who were infected in my town, and I won’t let anyone touch them or their precious plasma. If they won’t to give it that’s one thing but I won’t have them terrorized by the Bloody Scorpions or the Juarez Cartel just South of the border.

  “See ya’ on the flipside, babe.” With that I roar off. There’s peace on the road. In the humble drone of the engine, in cutting through the air so fast it’s almost like flying. Feeling connected to nature, to the Earth is in my blood. That’s why we’re sleeping under the stars tonight. My men got used to it when we policed the coast during the pandemic. We packed a roll bag like modern day cowboys. We filled it with jerky, water, and cigarettes. I always bring my guitar, strapping the case to the frame of my bike in the back.

  There’s nothing like spending a night out under the stars to cleanse your soul. We ride until sundown then I pull off down a dirt road and start the climb.

  “What the fuck?” Rog pulls parallel with me.

  I don’t stop but gesture him to keep moving forward. We climb the side of the mountain until the sun dips down and a few stars start peering from beneath the veil between Earth and the heavens.

  Finally pulling over, I wipe the dirt and sweat from the road off my face. “Surprise.” I taunt the Creed MC brothers. “You wanted to ride with us. We are hardcore mother-fo’s. Our bed for the evening,” I gesture to the mouth of a small cave to my left.”

  “Uh-uh. No way. I’m out,” Rog, growls.

  “What’s wrong, Rog? No thousand thread count sheets?”

  I clap a hand on his shoulder. “Stay. We’ll smoke a peace pip. Have a few…” I enter the mouth of the cave and open the trunks I leave stocked with my things. I take out extra sleeping bags, food, and start making a fire.

  “Gimme that,” he growls. Taking the kindling from me.

  “Rog, I’m Indian. I think I know how to make fire.”

  “Yeah? Well, I’m better at it.”

  I put Smith and Indé in charge of cooking while I prep the sweat lodge. Indé passes me what I need tonight. What I came here for. It was just supposed to be me on a voyage of truth and self-discovery, but Club business often mixes with mine. This sacred spot of reflection and heritage is on the way to Vegas. In the cave, we keep the drums, the tepee, emergency food and anti-venom. But what Indé rolled in the blunt is a secret recipe. We added shit to it ov
er the years, but the hallucinations and visions are strong when mixed with the ancient Apache incantations. I light the tip of the blunt, breathing deep. After the tent is up, I wait for the rocks I added to the fire to burn for twenty minutes.

  “What the fuck? Are you auditioning for me?” F.O.C.U.S. taunts as I take my shirt off.

  I flex my guns, winking at him. “How much would you get for me?” I shuck my jeans off.

  “Damn. For a practical pure-bred like you? Ten grand.”

  “A night?”

  “A half hour.”

  “Get out.”

  “There’s a bunch of rich housewives in NYC.”

  “I’ll catch up with you on the road. I was just fucking with you. You don’t need to camp here with me. I just need to do this tonight. It was… I can’t talk about it.”

  “I’ll stay to watch your back.”

  “No.” I turn to Indé. Stay at the base of the canyon. “I need to be alone. You know why.”

  “Well, thank fuck. I’ll be outside of Los Lunas.” They sit, around the fire and enjoy a few beers. They know what I want but will stay for a while to keep me company. I nod to Indé who starts the drum. Then I strip from my boxers, hearing Rog and Smith swear at the sight of my bare ass.

  A grin cuts across my face. I’m already feeling a bit high. I cover myself with a homemade buckskin cloth. Then pour water on the hot stones I had placed in the tent using tools I keep here.

  I’m a man on a mission tonight. And if Mandy’s in the stars somewhere, I know she’ll come back down to Earth and join me tonight.

  8

  Amber

  Seven hours earlier…

  The visor on my ball cap is pulled low over my eyes. Screw Tarak. I’ve battled worse and won. Armed with a to-go coffee and a few housing apps, I navigate the streets looking for a new place to land.

  I slow in front of the third run-down housing complex. “Nope.” The balance in my checking account has triple zeros. The thought of spending all that money on rent just doesn’t sit right with me. I could afford the luxury, gated community in downtown Santa Fe, but doubt the sleek expensive cars would like this old truck parked next to them.