BANE: A Devils' Due MC Romance Novel (18 page)

She was happy.

Yeah, sure, orgasms can do that to a girl. Who knows if it was the first time she ever climaxed her entire life. All I was certain about was that I was her first. But there was something about her at that instance which told me that there was more to the joy that she was feeling. It seemed so hopeful, so elated, so alive.

Was it because I told her that the Captolis were likely to settle their score peacefully, I wondered?

Nah. It couldn't be that. She's been putting up a brave front that I didn't even know if the Italians bothered her at all.

Maybe it's really
just
the orgasm.

Fuck do I know? Women are always complicated beasts.

I dropped her off at the steps. She gave me a kiss on the cheek before she left. She was still smiling, though she never said a word. She was wearing the jacket that Prez gave her.

I watched her as she proceeded to the entrance. The other students were looking at her. Maybe they saw her kiss a man who was more than twice her age. Maybe they were bewildered by the jacket that embraced her body. Maybe they were wondering what the words on its back meant. I cared about what they were thinking of because I didn't want them to treat her like some goddamn outcast on her last three months of school. Fuck, they could pick on the emo kid with slashes on his wrists, or the nerd carrying a dozen math books, or even the damn cripple or the closet fag... but they should leave my girl alone.

Indeed, I cared about what the other students were thinking... but she didn't.

She ascended the steps with so much confidence and grace, with her chin held up high and with a grin that never left her pretty face. Her light brown hair swayed from side to side. Her sweet ass bounced as she strode, as if it was teasing me with the promise of more lovin' tonight when she'd get home.

Goodness! She's adjusting to the ol' lady way of life faster than I ever expected.

My mouth curled into smile as I realized that it was the best morning I've had in a long, long time.

Loco, K.O., Pip and I sat at a mound near the foothills of The Bighorn Mountains, just along Highway 35. Our bikes were parked around fifty meters from where we were. We've been there for thirty minutes, chatting and laughing, sharing stories about how we were and how we used to be. It's a tradition that we observed from time to time. Sometimes, there were more of us. Sometimes, we were fewer in numbers. But it was a club activity that we promised would never be forgotten.

"So the car exploded as soon as the platoon leader opened it," K.O. continued his tale about an incident in Kuwait during the Gulf War. At fifty, K.O. was the second oldest member of the club, next only to Ducky. He used to be the third oldest, but then, we had to say bye-bye to Renzo. Bald and burly and with a mean beard knotted at the bottom, K.O. got his road name because he was once a professional boxer after his gig in the army. Yeah, his win-loss record was laughable, but no one ever dared to mention that to his face. He packed a mean punch. One time, he sent a member of a rival MC into a coma with just one blow.

"Holy shit!" Pip expressed his shock. "What happened, man?" Reed-thin, clean-cut and somewhat reserved, Pip ain't the prototypical biker type. At twenty-two, he's the youngest in our group. But he has proven himself well.
One day
, Loco once told me,
he'd be prez or veep. He's got the smarts for it.  But not today,
Loco quickly added,
right now, he’s still a fucking pussy
.

"Nothing!" K.O. chuckled. "Turned out that they used a homemade bomb. The motherfuckers loaded it up with alcohol. Fucking alcohol, can you believe that? My fart's louder than the boom."

"Your fart's louder than a fucking bazooka," Loco kidded him, and we all laughed.

"True that!" K.O. said. "But enough of my boring stories. What I want to know is... how Bane's been spending his nights these days."

The bozos looked at me with knowing smiles.

"Sleepin' an' snorin'," I answered. "How else will I be spendin' my nights, brother?"

"You tell us, brother," K.O. replied. "You're the one who's got a nice, young piece of ass waiting for you in bed every evening."

"Yeah, Bane, tell us about the grand time you're having," Loco egged. "Come on, brother... make us jealous."

"Don't we have some runs to make?" I tried to change the subject. "Some joints to protect or somethin'?"

"All the joints we're supposed to secure have been raided by the feds, you know that," Loco reminded me. "We've got nothing to do until that business with the Lords north of the border pushes through. There's no escape, Bane. Come on... share something and make it good!"

"There's nothin' to share," I told them. A scowl emerged from my face.

"C'mon bro," Pip joined the mob. "What's her favorite position? Is she a screamer? What's the color of her areola? Does she have stubbles on her armpits?"

"Stubbles on her armpits?" I repeated incredulously as the others chuckled. "What the fuck, greenie? Why do ‘ya want to know that?"

"I just... wanna know if she shaves or plucks her underarm hair," Pip sheepishly answered.

"And what difference does that make?"

"Yeah, Pip, what difference does that make?" K.O. emphasized my question.

"I... I've got a thing... for underarms... okay?" Pip suddenly became uncomfortable that the attention shifted to him.

"You fucking sicko!" Loco chastised him as he guffawed so hard that he had to hold his stomach.

"Perv!" K.O. jestingly condemned him as well.

"I... I just like girls who are... are clean all over, alright?" Pip defended himself. "So what, Bane? How're her armpits?"

"As smooth as satin," I said with a smirk.

"Oh shit!" Pip remarked as he adjusted his jeans to free up his cock. My answer gave him a fucking hard-on.

The siren rang, disrupting our conversation and saving me from further questioning. It was the sound we've been waiting for the entire afternoon. A continuously blaring noise that signaled the approach of the train from Arizona.

It informed us that we had exactly twenty seconds to do our thing.

"Ready?" Loco asked us as he quickly got up and bent his knees, preparing to dash.

We did the same.

"Ready, boss," K.O. confirmed.

"Go!" Loco ordered, and we made a run for it...

Towards our bikes parked in the middle of the rails as the incoming train chugged its way at a fast and unrelenting pace.

It was game we always played... a modified version of
Chicken
. Brave brothers were never hesitant to join the fun. We'd park on the railways and wait on the mound until the siren brayed. Then we'd sprint to our bikes and start our engines. The goal needed no explanation - get out alive with our rides intact. It was a tradition that was practiced long before any of us joined the club. So far, it has only resulted in two unfortunate incidents, and only one of them was serious. Old man Terry, God bless his soul, lost his right leg. He lived for six more years until he died from untreated syphilis.

Five seconds and we were halfway to our rides, charging as fast as we could. K.O.'s thick legs caused him to trip but Prez swiftly helped him up.

Twelve seconds and we reached our Harleys. We literally jumped on them, the thud crushed our balls but we didn't have time to even think about the pain. Pip miscalculated his weight. He missed the pad as he leaped over his bike. He had to turn around and rush back, which caused him a few seconds.

Sixteen seconds, the train was just a mere twenty feet away from where we were. The operator saw us. A loud honk emanated from the speeding locomotive, but it was too late for it to stop. We started our engines. Loco and I were the first to flee from the rails. K.O. followed quickly.

But Pip...

His motor fired up but it stalled immediately thereafter. Then, he panicked. The look on his face told us that he was expecting to die.

Nineteen seconds. Just as K.O.'s bike left the tracks, he jumped off his seat... towards Pip. While in midair, he hooked his massive arms over the greenie's frail frame. K.O. dragged him off his chopper and unto the ground at the other side of the tracks. And with one powerful motion, he kicked Pip's motorcycle away from the path of the train.

Twenty seconds. All Loco and I could see was a blur of freights streaking across our sights as the train passed by. We didn't know what has happened to our two brothers.

It took another ten seconds or so before the train disappeared, leaving behind a trail of smoke and dust.

And from the haze, Pip emerged, breathless and weak. His arm was draped around K.O.'s humongous neck as the ex-prizefighter carried him towards us.

We all laughed immediately... the kind of laughter that didn't want to end.

"God damn, greenie! I was already planning your fucking funeral!" Loco told the youngster.

"S-Sorry Prez..." Pip struggled to reply as he continued to hold on to K.O. for support. "D-Didn't mean to... to... to worry y'all... but my bike didn't cooperate..."

"It's never the bike's fault, you fucking tenderfoot!" Loco yelled at him though we were all still chortling. "You panicked! You panicked and that made you lose two seconds! Don't let that happen again."

"I... I won't, Prez," Pip promised.

We lined up our bikes and prepared to ride back to the clubhouse. Our laughter subsided, but never really stopped. It was an extraordinary kind of thrill, the kind of exhilaration that all of us craved for... that all of us lived for. It was another glorious tale that we could share with our brothers for years to come.

Prez tapped my back just before we could start our engines.

"We're all here for each other, brother," he told me. "And one's family is everyone's family. Never forget that."

K.O. and Pip nodded to show their agreement.

And it was at the exact moment when I remembered, with all certainty and without an iota of doubt, why I fucking loved my club.