Tread: Biker Romance (Ronin MC Series Book 1) (22 page)

PTSD STANDS FOR POST-TRAUMATIC
Stress Disorder. Post-traumatic stress disorder is a mental health condition that’s triggered by a terrifying event—either experiencing it or witnessing it. Symptoms may include flashbacks, nightmares, and severe anxiety, as well as uncontrollable thoughts about the event.

Symptoms include: flashbacks, nightmares/night terrors, anxiety, mood swings, insomnia, self-destructive behavior such as, excessive drinking, smoking and/or sexual libido, driving too fast, negative feelings about yourself or others,

inability to experience positive emotions, emotionally numb, hopelessness, memory loss, difficulty maintaining close relationships, easily startled, overwhelming guilt or shame, always being on guard, trouble concentrating.

There is no cure. Symptoms can be regulated with anti-anxiety medications and sometimes anti-psychotics when needed.

TBI stands for Traumatic Brain Injury. Traumatic brain injury occurs when an external mechanical force causes brain dysfunction.

Traumatic brain injury usually results from a violent blow or jolt to the head or body. An object penetrating the skull, such as a bullet or shattered piece of skull, can also cause traumatic brain injury.

Often times an explosion, or subsequent fall to the ground from being thrown is cause for TBI.

Immediate Symptoms of Moderate TBI include: loss of consciousness at the time of the incident, being dazed, confused at the time of the incident.

Long Term Symptoms of Moderate TBI include: loss of short-term memory,

headache, dizziness, loss of balance, double vision, mood swings, seizures, ringing of the ears, sensitivity to light and sound.

After researching for hours on both subjects Kit had suggested, recognizing the almost every symptom in at least one of the MC members, especially the second generation, and knowing that there was no cure, only band-aids in the form of pills, I fell asleep.

I jolted awake to the sound of a key being inserted into a lock.

I never heard Tread’s bike. My shoulders bunched with tension as the door opened. A jingle and clack had me sagging back down to the table.

Bella rambled over to me in a hefty jog, the tags of her collar tinkling together. Then I looked up.

“Tread’s not here,” I explained reflexively, hoping the older woman would walk back out the door.

He never came back from the hospital, and as the sky turned from black to indigo, I moved from the dining room table and made another pot of coffee.

“And yet you are here,” Veesa said in her pretty, Hispanic accent, setting down a paper bag. She pulled out bagels and cream cheese.

“He brought me here,” I said quietly. Of course she knew that already.

“And you use his things.” She waved to the table.

Tread kept his computer password protected, but I was able to sign on as a guest with no problem.

“I needed to look something up. I didn’t mess with anything but the internet.”

“Did you tell anyone you are here?”

“No,” I said stiffly as she took a seat and turned the laptop towards her before clicking the trackpad to wake it up. Her wrinkled fingers scrolled and clicked, no doubt looking at the history.

Finally, she stood up to fix us both cups of coffee, moving from cupboard to drawer with a familiarity I didn’t yet have.

When she placed my cup on the table and sat, I said thank you and fell silent. Half of Veesa’s coffee was gone before she finally spoke.

“My son is a great man.”

“I—”

“I am not finished.” She glared, and I swallowed my spit, thanking God she didn’t bring anything but a butter knife with her from the kitchen.

“He is a great man, but he has seen much. Much death, much suffering of his friends in battle. And yet he comes home to his family, to protect his country once again. The enemy is different, but the war is just. He makes his family proud, and honors his father’s death by taking his position at the table.

“My son tells me much about you in the night, and asks that I educate you, as is my duty as old lady and matriarch of the family.”

I waited this time to make sure she was done talking. “What table?”

“You will learn in time the secrets of our way of life. What you must do now is listen and engrave what I tell you into your heart, and know that you will be challenged, but never broken as long as you are joined with my son. Love the soldier, learn to love Ronin.”

“Okay . . .” I said shakily, not about to tell her anything was temporary between us if Tread hadn’t.

“The MC changes like sand dunes in a desert. A wind storm can reshape them, but the sand is still there. It is your job as old lady to be the rock under the sand, for which it is to settle. Our men are battle worn, and come back with scars, not just on their skin. They see death, and have killed for what they believe. The trouble is that it does not fall back into the slot of memory. These men relive these moments in their life when they walk out of a building, or hear a door slam, or go to sleep. They are never safe.

“So when my son comes to me and says he has found the peace that he needs, the balm to help him close his eyes, I say praise God. You may not have been my first choice for my son, but you stand up to my daughter, and not many have that courage. I believe that what he sees in you, we will all see in time. And the illness that plagues his mind is managed so delicately that he may never know you do it. Now that you know the basics, it is time to bring Lola in.

“Everything you hear, everything we show you is confidential to the old ladies. You may think that the children of the MC know all of the happenings of our men, but you will soon see, they know nothing and you mustn’t tell them, for their safety.”

“What do you mean their safety? Are they in danger?”

“We are always in danger because of the work our men do at the border. The children don’t know specifics about anything in the life because they have no ties. They will not soothe their father’s dreams. They will not share a pillow the way an old lady does. Old ladies are the anchor for the ship. The men are the ship. The children are the lines cast in the water. Do you understand?”

I nodded my head yes before shaking my head no, making Veesa sigh in exasperation.

“Our men tell us things because we are a vault. We are the ones they will tell about dangers they face, and we will take care of the children, while they have unburdened their souls. We are the constant. Children cry and fight, they hate their parents often while growing and are displeased with their life. Secrets are blown off and mean nothing. They don’t appreciate the love of their family because they have always had it. When you love a man, you will keep him safe against all things. Torture will not get you to talk if your man is in danger.”

“Torture?!” I yelled.

“Hypothetically. Now get dressed in the clothes I’ve brought you. We have much to do. Tell me, can you make an authentic tamale?”

I shook my head silently.

“Just as I thought. Get dressed. We have much to do.”

TWELVE HOURS LATER, TREAD FOUND
me sprawled out on the couch in exhaustion.

I listened as he emptied his pockets and set the alarm then gave me a light peck. When he moved my feet to sit down, I forced an eye open.

“Long day for you, too, babe?” he asked quietly as he unlaced my hand-me-down running shoes and tossed them to the floor.

I grunted in response.

“Yeah, me, too,” he sighed.

“How’s Lonny?” I asked as my eyes closed again. Tread put the pads of his thumbs to my arches. I moaned.

“He’s having trouble with his left side. Arm, leg, face. It’s really shitty.”

“I’m sorry. It has to be hard on all of you.”

“It is. It’s going to be hard sitting in his chair.”

I opened my eyes and lifted my head to see his face. Tread looked exhausted. Dark shadows lurked under his eyes and he had more scruff on his face. “What does that mean, his chair?”

“I’ve been training to be the Road Manager since I was born. My dad had the seat before me, but when he died, I still wasn’t old enough to take the position. Lonny stepped in and things never really changed. The first gen doesn’t like change and newfangled things like a GPS, while I’m all about the tech. It makes life easier. That fun they had a few days ago wouldn’t have taken so long with some of the toys I have. With Lonny retiring to Deming, they had to promote me.”

“Does he have a house there?” I asked. I knew the town was much larger than here, an hour or so away, but that was it.

“All of the first gen do. A few years ago, we bought some land out there for cheap and they built the house of their dreams close to each other.”

“A biker subdivision?” I joked.

Tread snorted. “Gated community with a pool and everything. Some swanky shit for these guys. Lonny will be the first to move out there.”

“Will he be okay by himself?” I worried.

“He’ll have the best, youngest female nurses we can find. Oh!” I brought my heel down on his lap. Tread grabbed for it as he doubled over laughing. He leaned over and tickled my ribs, making me shriek and giggle. I groaned at my sore muscles, prompting Tread to settle with his head where his hands were. He looked really uncomfortable, half sitting with my feet over his legs, but he didn’t move.

“So you get a vote now, right?” I asked when he buried his head in my stomach.

“Royal was the first of the second gen to sit, taking over when his dad went away. Now with two of us, it’s just one step closer to change.”

I started taking the band out of Tread’s hair, letting loose his shoulder length, black strands and ran them through my fingers. He moaned, so I didn’t stop.

“You want change?”

“It’s time. Hell, it’s past time.” He yawned and I felt his jaw pop with the force.

“Where did you sleep last night?” I asked quietly.

“I stayed at the hospital for a long time then went to the clubhouse.” He felt me stiffen with his words and brought his head up, resting his chin on my stomach. “Alone.”

“Okay.” I looked away.

Tread dug his chin in a little to get my attention. “You’re my old lady now. That means there’s no one but you. It’s a part of our code, and one I stand by.”

I nodded. “Good to know.”

Tread moved his head back down so that his ear was resting against me again and I went back to playing with his hair. It was so soft and thick. My fingers got lost in the inky waves.

“How old were you when your dad died?” I asked tentatively.

“Mmm, fifteen. Tatum was around ten, I guess,” he answered.

“How did he die?”

Tread sighed and moved my shirt up so that his face was on bare skin. His beard tickled my skin, bringing goose bumps. “They were at the well. Do you know where that is?”

“At the border, right?”

“Yeah. They were doing a delivery that went bad. Large cheese pizza.”

“Pizza?”

“It’s code for a highly wanted felon wanting out of the country. They pay us to get them over before they go to jail.”

“You smuggle people?” I asked incredulously.

“Yeah, babe. Out. As long as they’re leaving the U.S. Everything we stand for as an MC is to keep our country safe.”

“So you never bring people in? These criminals?” I was not sure how I felt about it.

“No, we don’t. Well, didn’t. The club voted in special jobs during a time of chaos, you know, with the President? Harvey’s been acting strange, though. Doing weird stuff. But the night my dad died, they crossed paths with coyotes bringing over girls.”

“Trafficking?”

“Yup. Into New Mexico, on our land. Usually, it’s just drugs, but occasionally someone will get cocky enough to try bigger cargo on land that’s supposed to be unguarded by Border Patrol. They opened up on us, and my dad and Marley and Hendrix’s dad were killed.”

“And the girls?”

“We got them back where they were going after the coyotes were taken care of.”

“They killed them.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah.”

I shivered and Tread rubbed a big hand on my thigh before pressing his lips into my stomach.

“I’m sorry you lost your dad. Were your parents close?”

“The closest. They used to cook together all the time. My dad was awesome at baking.”

“Baking?” I couldn’t see it.

Tread chuckled. “Made the best fuckin’ cookies you’ve ever tasted. Cakes, all kinda shit.”

“Wow. I bet the guys gave him hell for that.”

“Hell no! Not if they wanted homemade ice cream and brownies.”

I laughed at the image of a big biker in an apron passing out muffins. “Your mom never dated or anything?”

“Nah. At least, not that I know of.”

“What happened to Marley’s mom? I haven’t seen her around.”

“They divorced a while before. Hendrix always stayed with his dad, then when Marley was sixteen, she ran away and came back, too.”

“And Hendrix stayed with the MC instead of going with her?”

“She wasn’t right. Always causing drama. Veesa and Lola pretty much raised all of us.” I thought about Royal and the rest, wondering what their lives were like back then, but didn’t ask.

“Your mom’s a very strong woman.”

“She is. Did she come see you today?”

“Oh yes. Before the sun even came up, she was walking in the door.”

“Yeah? I bet she brought food, though.”

I smiled. “Bagels. I’m in the sisterhood now.”

“Sisterhood?”

“Old ladies. We’re one for all and everything apparently.”

Tread raised up to an elbow to see my face. His hair fell around him. My breath caught in my throat. He looked like a fallen angel. “They took you under their wing, then?”

I gave a hard nod. “Including tamale recipes, and hand-to-hand combat.”

His eyebrows raised in surprise. “No shit?”

“None. I’m now on the road to not killing anyone the next time I fire a weapon, and know the secret ingredient to your mom’s red sauce.”

“Oh man, we’ve wanted to know for years. What is it?”

I shook my head. “I’ll never tell.”

Tread wrapped a big hand around my waist and pulled me down the couch, bringing me closer to his face. “I bet I could get you to tell me.”

“Never. It’s in the sisterhood code.”

Tread pushed my shirt farther up my ribs until it bunched just under my breasts. My heart started beating faster when he brought his head down to mine. “You shot a gun today?” he asked quietly.

“Several,” I panted.

“That’s so fuckin’ hot.” He reached for my hand and we aligned our palms. “These soft little fingers wrapped about a .38? Squeezing the trigger?” He looked back at me while interlacing our fingers. “So fuckin’ hot.”

“Guns do it for you, huh?” I asked with a smile.

Tread smiled back, and his lips breathed the words into my mouth. “My angel holding steel in her palm. Mmm.” He groaned before taking my mouth.

Tread’s lips caught my bottom lip between his and I felt his tongue smooth across the skin. He dipped inside my mouth, and the taste of him, tobacco and peppermint candy, made me raise my head to get more. Deeper.

I moved my head to the side for a better angle, while Tread brought our interlocked hands behind my head. He didn’t let mine go, just used us both to pull me towards him. One of his thighs moved mine apart, and I felt the instant tingle when he stroked me between my legs.

I made a choking sound at the pleasure and struggled to breathe. Tread pushed his hips into mine, letting me feel how hard he was. For me. I had done that to the sexiest man I’d ever met. It made me feel powerful, like a woman, a sexy woman, and I relished it. Soaked it into my soul so that it would never leave.

Tread finally let go of my hand so that he could pull my shirt over the mound of my breasts. He pulled back and looked down. When he licked his lips, I felt it in my core, tightening my inner muscles reflexively.

He peeled back the soft cotton of my bra, instantly filling his palm with my flesh. I sighed then gasped when his head lowered and captured my stiffening nipple into the warm heat of his mouth. His tongue gave a soft lash, while his beard sensitized my skin so that I felt his stroke across my chest.

“You’re so pretty,” he mumbled when he pulled away, looking at the pink, glistening flesh. Tread moved to the other side, not letting me catch my breath before surrounding me with more heat.

I clawed at his shirt, pulling it up as much as I could to get to bare skin while he rocked between my legs. Tread let go of my nipple softly to sit up, pulling his shirt over his head then moved my knee so that he was fully between mine.

I stared up at him, his hair falling around his shoulders, muscles tattooed sporadically down his chest. He wasn’t bulky like Alt, or skinny like Polly. Tread was lean, the sinew in his shoulders visible, but tapering down to a narrow waist. I caught sight of a small trail of hair leading down, between the V of muscle into his boxers, remembering yesterday when he repositioned himself to leave.

It made me study the bulge in his jeans, knowing if he straightened his hardness out it would show over the top of his waistband. I shivered.

Tread groaned and rubbed over my legs from knee to thigh and back. “I love your eyes on me, Gracie. But I love your hands more.” He wrapped his hands under my arms and pulled me to him. My legs tightened around him reflexively.

He stood and walked us through the house with such intensity in his eyes I would have been scared, if it wasn’t him.

At the bed, he lowered me softly so that my hair fanned out on his pillow before kicking off his shoes. I heard panting and looked to the door. “Bella’s going to come in here.”

Tread moved to the door, catching her just as her broad shoulders crossed the frame. “Not tonight, little traitor. Go get in the trash or something.”

I snorted out a laugh, covering my mouth in embarrassment. Tread looked at me in surprise, and a chuckle rose from his chest. I groaned and twisted to hide my face in the pillow beside me.

Tread straddled my waist, pulling my arms until they were down to my side. “Just ignore that. Erase it from your memory. Never happened,” I pleaded, my face heated with a raging blush.

“Do it again,” he demanded with a smile.

“No!” I yelled, right before he dug nimble fingers into my ribs, not stopping until I was crying with laughter and snorting, embarrassingly, again.

“Yes, there it is.” Tread laughed as I panted.

“That’s not fair. Are you ticklish?” I asked, moving my hands under his ribs and down to his hips when he didn’t laugh.

Desire quickly replaced the humor on his face, and I realized I was touching all of that hardness for the very first time. My fingernails dug into his skin, making his breath catch in his throat.

I moved my hands to trace the letters of a tattoo across his stomach, marveling at the contrast of our skin tones. Mine light, pale, while his was a bronze that never needed the sun. Tread’s head fell back as his eyes slid closed.

He was over me, this big, strong man, and yet my small hands had the power to undo him. I curled my stomach to sit up, and looked at the brown disks of his nipples. They were hard, like when I was turned on. I covered one with my hand, rolling it between my fingers as my mouth sealed over the other.

“Jesus. Fuck.” Tread wove his hands through my hair before I could pull away and pulled me closer to his skin. He tasted salty, and smelled like Irish Spring and Jack Daniels. I could easily get drunk on him.

Tread pushed his hips into my chest when I swirled my tongue, groaning. I felt the sound against my mouth. I moved away, to the other side, but he pulled my face to his, taking me in a kiss so much harder, with so much desire, I whimpered.

He let go of my hair to take my shirt then bra off of me in quick, efficient movements. When he pushed my shoulders back so that I was lying on the mattress, bare in the lit room, I stifled the urge to cover myself. Instead, I fisted the sheets and feasted on his eyes as they roamed my body.