Stained Reunion
Carter Steele
Contents
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1. Brock
2. Heather
3. Brock
4. Heather
5. Brock
6. Heather
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Savage Redemption
“My life was all about revenge until I met her.”
I want them destroyed.
The Anarchists killed my father, haunt me and my brother, and seek to destroy my club, the Savage Kings.
For years, I have stopped at nothing to annihilate them.
But for years, I also never forgot her.
She was everything to me.
She brought joy to my life.
And I had to leave her without explanation.
But a chance encounter has brought her back to me.
And now, everything has changed.
My life is now all about having her—and nothing can stop me.
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1
Brock
The Anarchists of Death.
For most of the years that I had known then, they had never been anything more than a nuisance. They had done a drive-by shooting before, but such occurrences were so rare and so weak in force that we didn’t act as if they could cause us any real problems. But now?
Now, they had stolen our guns.
Now, they had stolen a chance for me to be with Heather.
And now, they had decided to up the stakes on the rivalry between us.
“What the fuck is going on?!?” I yelled, still throwing my cut on as I exited the president’s private room.
“Some of the Anarchists lobbed a molotov cocktail at the building,” Landon said. I knew he’d drunk a shitload of alcohol over the course of the night, but the event had sobered him up in a snap. “There’s still a few out there, but—”
I didn’t need to hear anything else. I opened a cabinet above the liquor bar, pulled out an AK-47, and stormed to the ladder leading to the roof of the clubhouse. I got there just in time to see about four Anarchists driving away, their red helmets and the fists on their cuts identifying them.
I opened fire from the rooftop. I saw one visibly flinch and nearly fall over, but I didn’t kill any of the targets. I suppose that was for the best, in some way; Romara hadn’t had a murder on the Savage Kings’ watch in nearly three years, and I didn’t want to think of what would happen if we were responsible for it. Just because we knew the Anarchists were the enemy didn’t mean the rest of Romara did. In fact, I suspected a great many of the younger townsfolk were just waiting for a reason to hate us.
“Fuck!” I shouted, shaking my gun in frustration as the rest of the Anarchists escaped.
I slid down the ladder like a firefighter, reaching the bottom in a second, and then jogged outside.
“Anyone hurt?” I yelled.
“One prospect hit with debris, but nothing serious,” Parker said. “Shoulda given ‘em a lil’ fire of our own.”
“I tried,” I said as I opened the front door.
The area they had hit was definitely noticeable. Black ash and burn marks identified where the bomb had gone off. Undoubtedly, someone had probably called the cops by now. Sheriff Jones would understand, and we’d get him off our tail soon enough, but it was just a headache on a night that was supposed to be a hype-up for tomorrow and a personal victory for me.
A personal victory you’re not even sure you really want. A personal victory that could have turned into a nightmare when it was all said and done.
I shook my head in frustration. I walked back inside, making sure to put the gun back above the counter and put the safety back on.
“Clean up as best as you can,” I said to Landon and Parker. “Let’s get the girls out of here. Make sure they get home safe. I don’t want any surprise hostages or murders tonight.”
A few of the girls in earshot gasped at me, but I didn’t care. They knew what happened when they interacted with MC members. Dance with the devil, don’t be surprised if you lose your soul in the process.
Like Heather right now.
I walked back to the private room and saw her throwing her top back on. Even frazzled, she looked pretty. She also looked tough and determined, her eyes narrowed, her expression unchanging, her eyebrows slanted inward.
It was a look that was both very reassuring and very unsettling at the same time. I didn’t need the woman of my high school days to look like she was gearing up for a battle. I didn’t want her to crumble at the first sign of danger, but…
“I take it no sex anymore, huh?” I said dryly.
Apparently, I’d said the wrong thing, because Heather gasped, put her hands on her hips, and then crossed her arms.
“You just got attacked by a bomb, and that’s what you’re thinking about?”
“The bomb was just a molotov cocktail, it’s not like the building exploded,” I said. “And we chased off the people that did it. You’re safe now.”
“I don’t feel particularly safe,” she snapped.
Well, I’ve definitely lost my chance tonight. Guess it’s just a question of if I’ve lost it for good.
Which may not be the worst thing ever.
It wouldn’t be a great thing, though.
“Do you know how many times I’ve heard an explosion in my life in person? Zero. Do you know how many times that explosion has been directed at the building where I am? Also zero. And you want me to believe I’m safe?”
I turned away from her, facing the door, and took some deep breaths. I prided myself on my calm demeanor, but this incident had called for me to unleash my demonstrative, aggressive side, and Heather’s attitude—as justified as it was—had made it difficult for me to get back to my calm state.
“Yes,” I said. “Let me explain before you get upset.”
I turned back to her. She had her arms folded, and she did not look like someone who was going to believe a word that I said. That had never stopped me from talking before, though.
“I told you I’m just a simple man who works as a car mechanic, runs a club, and likes motorcycles. That’s all true.”
“But—”
“Please, Heather.”
She scoffed, but she didn’t move.
“Obviously, that’s not the whole story. The Savage Kings believe in taking matters into their own hands. We fight and protect those we care about outside of the law. In some regard, yeah, I suppose that makes us vigilantes. But it gives us an advantage over Sheriff Jones and the rest of the cops. We don’t have to follow due process. We don’t have to follow a rulebook down to the t. We fight for what everyone knows is common sense justice. So, to ensure we can follow through on that, we have guns. We aren’t afraid to use them.
“And you know what? Because of that, we are the safest place in Romara.”
“Oh, bullshit,” Heather said. “If that’s the case, then why have I never been bombed before? Why have I never heard gunshots until I got this close?”
“Those gunshots were me chasing off the bombers,” I said. “And for the record, that bombing was something that has never happened before tonight. I’m not going to kid you, it might get more violent, but—”
“Why did you bring me here, Brock?”
I stammered for a second, confused as to why this question had arisen.
“You said you take matters into your hands. You don’t have to follow due process. That’s fine in some common sense situations. But it also makes me think that you think you can just do whatever the hell you want without thi
nking about it. So what was your end game here, huh, Brock?”
“Heather…”
“No, don’t act like I’m acting crazy. We know what was about to happen. But had I known that… that incident out there would happen, I never would have done it. So what was your plan? Fuck me and then dump me outside so you could fight the bad guys?”
This seemed ludicrous. Hadn’t she wanted the sex as much as I did? Hadn’t she gone along with this as much as I had? Why was she suddenly so aggressive about it?
Maybe she’s realizing, like you, that the two of you getting back together as you were about to would have been a terrible idea.
So break through with the truth.
“Straightforward, I would love to have you naked here and to fuck your brains out until you can’t even say your own name,” I said. Heather arched an eyebrow, as if to be upset with what I said, but I could see the hairs on her arm stand up and the goosebumps on her body. She may have given the appearance of being offended, but I could see her body was excited. “I would love to be inside of you, just like ten years ago, and hearing you gasp my name as you get closer and closer to climax.”
I leaned against the wall with my left arm, gave a short chuckle, and dropped my gaze as I continued.
“But if all I wanted was that, if the only thing I wanted was just a quick lay, then I would have took one of the many girls at this party. It’s the president’s privilege, he gets first pickings.”
“Oh, that’s nice,” Heather said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. “Real nice. So you turned into a manwhore in the time that I went and got an education and a real job.”
“Oh, come on, Heather, don’t do this—”
“Do what? Call reality out for what it is? Speak the truth?”
She took a second to catch herself. She shook her head. Her arms had never unfolded through the duration of this conversation.
“I’m sorry, I need to go. My car is on the street. Is it safe?”
“Yes,” I said. “Do you want—”
“Just watch from here, please,” she said.
She then grabbed her bag, brushed past me, and didn’t say a word more.
The Anarchists, it seemed, hadn’t just ruined my night. They’d ruined my chances at something more with Heather.
It was funny in a way. In the buildup to this moment, I had kept thinking about how it might be a mistake to sleep with Heather.
Now that that chance was gone, I couldn’t help but wonder why I was still wanting to fight for her.
2
Heather
He just wanted to fuck you and leave you.
Don’t listen to a goddamn word that he says. That’s what all men who are trying to get laid say. They aren’t really trying to date you. They’re just trying to get in your pants.
Why would Brock be any different?
I was scared. I was hurt. I was confused as hell.
I knew my emotions were getting the best of me. But why the hell wouldn’t they be? For the situation that I found myself in and for the nightmare that I was having to deal with…
I just didn’t understand why Brock didn’t think it was a good idea to, I don’t know, tell me that his club was violent? To warn me that death and attacks could come at any moment?
It was just further proof to me that I needed to stay away from Brock King. He’d hurt me with his sudden abandonment ten years ago, and now his actions might literally hurt me in the present. All signs told me that sleeping with him might produce some intensely great pleasure in the very immediate short term, but by the end of the everything, it would only bring me the worst pain of my life.
So why was it, then, that as I got to the car and drove home, I couldn’t help but wonder what could have been?
And, for that matter, what could be?
Though I was not hungover when I woke up, the drama from the night before had made it extraordinarily difficult to sleep, producing fatigue and a dreariness that equaled a college hangover.
Every time I closed my eyes, I heard the explosion that rocked the clubhouse and drew Brock away from me. Every time I rolled over, the sound of the bed creaking reminded me of the creaking that Brock had made as he started to strip me. Every time I brushed against my body, I remembered what it felt like to have Brock suck on my breasts.
Some of the memories were good, obviously. But even those were tainted with the knowledge I could have died right there. So there was nothing resembling a deep sleep that night.
I tried to get myself together as best as I could, applying more makeup than usual and making sure that I splashed water in my face, but nothing did the trick. I still looked like the living dead as I got in my car and drove to Romara Elementary. At least I had gotten there well before the teacher’s bell for once.
I headed straight for my classroom, sat at my desk, and opened my laptop to try and get organized. Like a student who had not done any of his homework the night before, I had not planned today’s lessons at all and needed to do that in the half hour before school started. At least as an adult, I already knew everything I needed to discuss; it wasn’t like I’d forgotten how to do multiplication or read basic passages.
I immersed myself in the lesson planning, hoping that it would provide me relief from the outside world. I got to noon—
“Heather?”
Jess said my name and knocked at the same time. I jumped far more than her actions had called for, freaking out like another explosion had just gone off. I put my hand over my heart, trying to calm it down as Jess looked at me in surprise.
“You OK, girl?”
“Sorry,” I said. “Just wasn’t expecting you.”
“I mean you look like you had a long night. And not in a good way.”
She gave a warm smile, which I returned, but the smile faded into a groan, slumped shoulders, and my head nearly collapsing into the table.
“Yeah,” I said, stretching out the word as I decided if I wanted to confess where I had gone. “I was dealing with some personal shit.”
“Oh, sorry to hear that,” Jess said, closing the door behind her. “Careful, wouldn’t want Principal Johns to hear you swearing.”
I gave a thankful smile.
“At least you didn’t have a night like the Savage Kings.”
“The what?” I said, even as I immediately remembered what she was talking about—though such confusion probably worked in my favor.
“The Kings? The group that Brock King leads? The one I warned you about yesterday. Their basically a gang.”
“Oh, huh, umm, what happened?”
“You didn’t hear?” Jess said.
Oh, I heard. I heard way more than you could ever believe.
She pulled out her phone, ran her finger over the screen for a little bit, and then showed me the headline.
“King’s Repairs Bombed; Sheriff Says Likely Isolated Incident.”
“Isolated incident,” Jess said, rolling her eyes. “That’s the problem with groups like these. They can’t get out of their own way. My guess is they pissed off someone, dared them to fight back, and so the offended party took it into their own hands and attacked.”
“Maybe,” I said.
Jess looked up from her phone at me in suspicion. Sure that I was about to get called out for lying, I dropped my head.
“If you want to talk about whatever you’re going through, Heather, just let me know,” Jess said, coming over and placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. “I can’t imagine it’s anything good.”
“It’s an explosive situation,” I said. “But I’m sure it’ll get better.”
Jess smiled, rubbed my shoulder, and wished me well. I’m not sure it will get better, though.
And I’m not sure that even if it did, it could recover the arousal and excitement of the sixteen hours or so preceding that moment.
I managed to get through the morning without much trouble. Bless the kids, they always had a way of invigorating me when they entered the room. If I
didn’t match their energy, they would overwhelm me; I almost saw it as a personal challenge to meet their energy each and every morning.
By the time lunch came, though, I was on the verge of collapsing. I asked the other fourth grade teacher, a new college graduate named Jonathan Dolan, to watch over everyone, advising I needed a personal break. As the new kid, he was often asked these favors, and he never did fight back.
I got to my Civic, leaned the front seat all the way back, and tried to sleep. I didn’t hear the explosion every time I closed my eyes; the laughter and shouting of kids at recess prevented that from becoming too prominent in my head. But the stress of the night before hadn’t vanished, and I couldn’t completely pass out.
About ten minutes in, my phone buzzed, alerting me that I had a text message. I bit my lip, knowing without even looking who it was from. Not Mom or Dad.
But it wasn’t like I was falling asleep, so I didn’t see the harm in answering. I grabbed my phone and saw on the lock screen that, sure enough, Brock King had messaged me. I unlocked my phone and read the entirety of the message.
“I’m really sorry for how last night went. I swear that I only want you because I like you, not just for sex. I would love the chance to prove that to you. Please let me know when I can take you out and show you.”
When?
That’s awfully presumptuous of you, Brock.
The thing about assertiveness like that was that when you wanted it, there was nothing sexier in the world. But when you didn’t want it, there was nothing that turned me off faster in the world. It showed a fundamental lack of listening.
Stained Reunion Page 1
