Merciless Ride Page 5

  With the history I share with Rex, it would crush me to know that, when I needed him most, he didn’t step up for me. I find comfort in the fact that he wasn’t there. At least that way I can hold on to some sort of hope that, even if we won’t ever be together, he would do whatever was necessary to keep me safe. However, after all of this, there is no way in hell Rex and I will ever be anything more than friends. I want to pick up the pieces of my life and raise my son. Nothing more, nothing less.

  It has been one month since my world was turned on its axis yet again. One month ago, Tessie was harmed. She is healing now, but my house feels empty without her. The day after I claimed her, she moved home with her mom. Her aunt and I helped her pack.

  Yeah, I lied to her about Rex. One day, I will clear it up; however, with everything she has already been through, I didn’t want to add to her disappointments. It is clear things with her and Rex are over.

  The guys have all gotten the word out about Tessie being my ol’ lady. Even though it isn’t real, I feel connected to her. I want her protected. While my instincts scream to go get her and drag her home with me, I know inside I am no good for her. Inside, I know she can’t really be mine. I am worried about her, but I don’t want to push.

  With her mom keeping me updated, I know Tessie hasn’t checked her bank account and things are rough. She doesn’t know the club and I deposited more than enough money to cover her bills and living expenses. Still, I feel better having her at home with her mom instead of the trailer.

  Bob said has called her and keeps up with her, but she hasn’t returned to Ruthless for work. She knows she has a job there whenever she feels ready to return, though. Bob is pretty torn up about what happened and agreed to sell ten percent of the bar to the Hellions, so it is off limits to outsiders now. He also promised never to leave anyone to close up alone again. It’s too little, too late as far as I’m concerned.

  A patched brother will now be there at closing every night. Even if Tessie doesn’t come back, at least we know Corinne and now, Pamela will be safe. Bob took Pamela on to replace Tessie until she decides if she will return or not.

  Tessie hasn’t returned to Brinkley’s yet, either, but Corinne says she plans to work there next week. I am glad to see her trying to get back to normal, whatever that may be.

  Her mom says she hasn’t been eating much or sleeping well. Maybe, if she gets back to work, things will settle in her mind and she will take better care of herself.

  Stepping into the cave for sermon, I’m on edge. Tripp has called today’s meeting to update us on the Ghosts. The bastards have been smart, staying out of the Carolinas.

  After the call to order, Tripp wastes no time in delivering the news.

  “Thorn says Shep has gone underground. He doesn’t have contact with him at the moment.”

  “Underground? Fuck that. He’s goin’ in the ground. What kind of operation is Thorn runnin’ that he can’t keep track of his boys?” I ask.

  “Thorn obviously has his plate full—” Tripp starts, but I wade in before he can continue.

  “It’s about to get a lot fuller. My ol’ lady was attacked by one of his crew. If he can’t deliver Shep to us, then his whole club can suffer the consequences for one man’s actions for all I care.” It surprises even me how easily the words ol’ lady roll off my tongue.

  “You’re talkin’ war,” Rex says, watching me, “for a piece of pussy you’ve never even had.” The cocky bastard smiles sardonically at me. “You really think the club should risk all of us for her?”

  When Head Case puts a firm hand on my shoulder to hold me in place it does nothing to stop me from running my mouth.

  “What a true piece of shit you are. How’s she not worth it? If it were Doll, hands down we’d all be voting it to take them all out.” Looking at the man who is trying to remind me to stay put as his hand is still on my shoulder, I make my point to Head Case. “If this were Doc Kelly, would there be a question of how the vote would go? Rex has fucked her over enough through the years, and none of us touched her because of him. This whole thing would’ve never happened to her if he’d stepped up for her a long time ago, or if he had been man enough to let her go. Now, I sit here with her, knowing she’s my ol’ lady, and I have to wonder if my brothers are gonna go to bat for my woman. That’s some real brotherhood we’re showin’ here.”

  “Enough,” Tripp states, eyes on Rex. “I’ve given Thorn seventy-two hours to deliver Shep to us. If he doesn’t, we need to vote on it. Are we goin’ to war with the Ghosts for the attack on Tessie? They came to our bar—owned or not, people know—and they hurt one of our own.”

  Rex says nothing and his face gives away nothing.

  Tripp continues, “We vote. If Shep isn’t handed over in the next three days, we go to war with the Desert Ghosts. Those in agreement, aye; those not, disagree.”

  One by one, the brothers are asked. Their votes count, don’t get me wrong, but it is the officer’s table I want to see. More importantly, my VP; where does he stand? As the votes come in, so far, all but three agree to the stipulation of war if Shep isn’t turned over. The room is all in agreement by majority, the last two votes aren’t necessary; however, as Prez and VP, they still announce their decisions.

  While Tripp looks to Rex as it is his turn to cast a vote, the bastard glances at me and winks. If he disagrees, I am going to kill him with my bare hands. After all the years Tessie has remained on the backburner for him, he wouldn’t choose not go to bat for her, would he?

  “Aye. That bastard touched the wrong one. They hand him over, or I’ll go after every single one of them, one by mother fuckin’ one.”

  Rex’s response shocks me, making me release the breath I was holding. He was fucking with me this whole time. He may not claim her, but he will go to war for her. I still hate the bastard because he could have and should have stayed to make sure she wasn’t alone. All of this could have been prevented.

  “Aye,” Tripp states. “If Thorn doesn’t comply, war it will be.” The gavel slams down and the sermon is dismissed.

  Adjusting… or Not

  The visible wounds have healed for the most part. I will forever carry a scar across my forehead and the bump on my nose. I am managing to work at Brinkley’s a few days a week now. Moreover, thanks to the additional funds in my bank account, I have stayed afloat without working like I was before. Granted, I think, when the club, Shooter, or whomever made the deposit in my account, they were expecting me to pay rent with it. However, since I moved out of my trailer, I don’t have the expense; as a result, I have been able to carry the money further. The landlord was nice about my departure. She said she would leave the place empty for me for a few months to get back on my feet. I wish she wouldn’t hold it. It is more than the money, though; I just didn’t bother telling her that. Pride gets the best of us all. I don’t want to swallow mine and tell her that I won’t be moving out of my mom’s again.

  Shooter stops in to check on me at work, but has otherwise kept his distance over the last few weeks. Strangely enough, I find that I miss him. In this entire ordeal, he has not once pushed me.

  Doll has tried to get me back to Ruthless. According to her, Bob, and Corinne, Ruthless is Hellion owned now, so I am safe to return.

  Safe.

  Do they not understand? I thought I was safe before.

  Shep, the name I have since learned, had been in Ruthless multiple times over the last few months, and not once did I think he would attack me. Sure, he was always filthy. He always looked disheveled with greasy hair and in need of a shave, smelling like the road and cigarettes. He liked his Jack straight and chain smoked with no regard to your own health when he blew his secondhand smoke in your face. He was an asshole, but ninety percent of the guys I deal with are, including the Hellions.

  It’s the nature of the beast, as some would say. I work in a testosterone filled environment where they all swing their dicks around to show who is in charge at least once a night. These
aren’t pretty boys in suits. No, I have always been surrounded by the chaos and reckless abandon of bikers. Up until my attack, I never gave it a second thought. I have a kid to feed, clothes to put on his back, and a roof to keep over his head. I didn’t have time to think about what could happen. My mistake. I allowed myself to become comfortable.

  Mercy, she is a bitch and fails to shine down on me. With everything I have dealt with in my life, you would think by now I would know better. I should find the bad in every situation and know it will happen to me at some point. I had my own place, a little money in the bank (certainly not a lot, but I knew my rent would be paid), and Axel and I were doing well. Therefore, I should have expected something to come along and knock me on my ass.

  A knock at the door brings me back to this moment. My mom is resting in her room and Axel is at school. I make my way to the door, hoping my mom stays asleep. I have been keeping her up lately and she could use the rest.

  Looking through the peephole, my breath catches in my chest. Shooter stands on the other side, waiting. Realistically, seeing him shouldn’t bother me. It does, however. He has truly seen me at my worst. How do I handle him? How does he handle me?

  Taking a deep breath, I open the door to him. Plastering on the best smile I can, I drink in the man in front of me. He’s not overly built, but he is fit, there is no denying it. Shooter has no visible tattoos, which makes me curious since every single one of the Hellions have multiple tattoos.

  My mind wanders, thinking back to all the times he has come to the bar. He is always alone. Unlike Rex, Tripp, before Doll, or any of the other guys, Shooter is not one to hook up with the barflies, at least not publically.

  “You gonna let me in?” he questions, taking me away from my thoughts.

  “Ummm… Why are you here?”

  “I came to check on you.”

  Stepping back, I gesture with my hand for him to come inside. Somehow, having him near sends my body into overdrive. My heart races, but not in fear. No, Shooter is the one person who calms me when the negative overruns my brain. Regardless, I can’t allow myself to become used to him. I can’t depend on him or anyone, for that matter; therefore, I need to keep him at a distance.

  He follows me into the living room. It is a small space where Mom’s old, brown couches have seen better days. Axel has left his artistic marks all over them. We don’t have a coffee table anymore. My childhood dog, Fescue, knocked into it, breaking it, and Mom never replaced it. The two accent tables are covered in doilies and soft lamps. The television is not very big in screen size, but it is old so the box is huge to move around. It sits on the same stand it has been on for the last fifteen years. Mom’s place is bigger than my trailer; yet not by much. It certainly isn’t adorned with life’s finer things.

  Having Shooter here agitates me a little bit. I have never cared what anyone thought before, but there is something about him that makes me not want him to see this broken down side of me. No hiding it now, though; he is here and apparently not in a hurry to leave.

  “See for yourself.” I wave my hands. “I’m here.”

  “How ya holdin’ up, Tessie? Be straight with me.”

  “I’m holdin’ up, Shooter. There’s nothing more I can say. I’m adjusting,” I answer, not really sure where he is going with this.

  “Or not. You sleepin’ okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  He reaches his hand up to my face, his thumb gently coming down to trace the bags under my left eye. I flinch involuntarily at the contact before closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. It’s just Shooter.

  He immediately withdraws, but watches me closely.

  “Tessie, you don’t look like you’re sleepin, baby.”

  “I’m doin’ the best I can.”

  “Your mom, she’s worried. I know you’re doin’ the best you can, but it’s more than you. Tell me, Tessie, what can I do to help you?” Shooter asks with such a pull in his tone I can’t deny that he is hurting for me.

  “Time heals all wounds, or so they say,” I answer kindly.

  “Baby, this is killing me. It’s killin’ all of us to know we can’t help you. Stay with me.”

  “What?” I ask, not hiding my shock at his request.

  “Stay at my place. I can help with your mom and Axel. You won’t have to feel alone. I know you’re aware we got men watchin’ this place, but your mom called me. She thinks you might do better out of here. I know you don’t want to leave her or Axel, but my place is plenty big. Stay with me. All of you, come stay with me.”

  “Shooter, have you thought this through?” I question, knowing I don’t need to think a damn thing through. Shooter may have the best intentions in the world to help me; however, he doesn’t know my story. If he did, he wouldn’t be opening his home to me, nor would any of his brothers.

  “To be honest, no, Tessie, I haven’t. What I do know is you are going through the motions, but you aren’t healing. I’ll do whatever it takes to help you heal, baby.”

  “Stayin’ at your place won’t heal me. Thanks for your kindness, but I just need some time.” At my refusal, I gesture for us to make our way back to the door.

  “You want me to leave?” Shooter asks, not one to beat around the bush.

  “Yeah, I think you should go. Nothin’ personal, Shooter, but you can’t heal me… no one can.” My last few words come out in a whisper as I drop my head in defeat.

  “This is killin’ me,” I hear him mutter as he exits the house.

  Closing the door behind him, I lean against it, letting my mind run with how to pick up the pieces of my life. The rumble of his bike cranking causes my heart to skip a beat. I listen as the steady tick of the engine becomes a soothing rhythm as he idles in my driveway. My thoughts slow, and I feel like I can focus on my next steps when I finally hear him pull away. Then there’s the click as he changes gears, the rev of the throttle as he drives off, and in the distance, the drop as he shifts gears, speeding away to face the outside world.

  Sermon has been called again. Given my role within the club has never involved transports, I am learning more about that side of our business on the fly. There are two sides to the transportation company. The side that does hauling and moving like most of the truckers running the roads. Then there is the side that gets into business with the likes of the Desert Ghosts. Apparently, my motorcycle club has been offering protection for the Ghosts’ shipments through the Carolinas. We have also arranged some trades with the reservation and handled protection for the once affiliated club. Now I know why the Ghosts have been in and out so much recently, following up on business.

  We all gather in, and Tripp quickly calls the meeting to open.

  “Shooter, first order, you need to move Tessie, her boy, and her mom in with you within the week. Roundman secured information for us on some Ghosts’ shipments. We need every spare man we got out on the run. We also don’t need any distractions for us back home. You handle keeping Tessie and her family safe. We will handle stirring things up for Thorn and crew.”

  “Tripp, this isn’t a normal relationship. She may not want to move in with me so easily,” I inform my club Prez as I remember four days ago when Tessie looked worn slam out yet still refused help.

  “I get that, but make her see. This is for the club as a whole now. We gave Thorn three days to cough up Shep. He didn’t. My word is we are goin’ to war. Unlike Thorn, I have my shit together, and we’re goin’ after ‘em with everything we’ve got. Handle your woman,” Tripp commands, like this would be as simple as explaining it to Doll.

  “Fuck! She’s been through enough. Now I gotta rip her from her home? Hell, she doesn’t even want me around.”

  “Move in with her, then. Either way, I gotta pull the guard off Tessie and onto the road. We got eyes on Doll, Doc Kelley, and the other ol’ ladies, but I don’t wanna put just anyone inside the house with her outta respect for what she went through. It has to be you”—he looks at me then turns his gaze to his cou
sin and VP—“or I leave Rex behind and he steps in. Which way do you want it, Shooter? You claimed her, now the question is… you gonna step up?” Tripp throws my own words in my face.

  Rex grins at me. “I’ll take real good care of her, too, man.”

  As something inside me snaps, Head Case senses it and grabs me when I start to lunge at Rex.

  “Fuck off, Rex. She’s mine; I’ll handle it.”

  Piece of shit, son of a bitch. How can he act like this about Tessie? She is not a barfly. I don’t know how far back they go, but those two share a history that is more than either have let on to, yet the fucker is goading me into beating his ass over her.

  “Make it happen, Shooter,” Tripp orders, knowing he’s pushed me over the edge with Rex.

  “Affirmative,” I agree, still uncertain as to how I am going to tackle the newest Tessie dilemma.

  Terrors

  “Wouldn’t serve me earlier, bitch, but you’ll serve me now.” I hear him.

  Whiskey… cigarettes… I smell him. He is on me. The weight pressing against me. His weight. His fingers… Oh, God, his fingers… This can’t be happening.

  “Noooooooo!” I scream out into the night.

  Startled, I wake up, drenched in a cold sweat and tangled in my sheets. Looking around, I see I am in my childhood bedroom. Lavender walls still surround me along with my white lace curtains and white furniture that haven’t changed since I was twelve or so. My eyes adjust to the darkness as I work to settle my breathing. Scanning my darkened space, I stop when I lock eyes on the man in my doorway.

  “Shooter,” I whisper.

  This can’t be real. No way, no how is he here in the middle of the night, standing in my doorway, wearing nothing other than some low slung sweatpants. No way, no how can my heart rate speed up in lust for the sculpted man who is mostly a mystery to me. After everything I have been through, why is my body betraying me now? It is Shooter, that’s why. I feel safe with him.