One Ride (The Hellions Ride) (9 page)

One Ride Begins

My dad insists my car stay at the office.  Hell, getting him to let me pack my own bag is about as much compromise as Roundman is willing to give.  He wants me to let a prospect go pack my bag.  Really?  How could he want a fucking prospect all up in my panty drawer?   That is so not happening.  Now, I’m in the front of my office getting ready to ride bitch on Tripp’s bike.  Butterflies are taking over my stomach.  I’ve only ever ridden with my dad or driven myself. 

“Wait just a fucking minute.”  I hear Tank roar, as he’s storming outside. 

My nervous energy is now full blown anxiety.  Shit is going down.  I’m in danger from a women beatin’ criminal.  My dad is going to kill Delatorre, I know it.  To add to that, Tank is storming around.  And fucking great, Danza and my dad are close behind him, yelling. 

“Get your ass back in the office.  I’m not done with you, Tank.  You fuck her over, I’m gonna have your balls, mother fucker.  That’s my daughter!”  Danza yells, charging at Tank.

Tank halts and turns to face Danza.  “Let me say goodbye, then you can have my fucking balls, Danza.” 

Sass is standing there, helmet in hand, and a blank stare on her face.  Tank pulls her into him.  He’s tucked her into his chest with his chin resting on her head.  I can hear him as he’s talking to her.

“Savannah, don’t be sassy.  This is serious.  Stay safe, don’t run your mouth.  This is all so you can come home.”  And with that he releases her and walks quickly back into the office. 

Tears in her eyes, she looks over to her dad.  His hard stance and face, letting his feelings on the situation be known.

“It’s not like that, Daddy.  Leave him alone.  He’s my friend, that’s all.  I promise you on everything I am, I’m not with one of the brothers, and especially not Tank.”  Her voice is void of emotion, making it clear, she is done. 

Tank slumps slightly at her words.  Does he have unspoken feelings?  Or is it because Danza knows and will have his balls regardless?

Her tone affirms her recent decision.  My Savannah Mae “Sass” Perchton no longer wants the life we grew up in.  I don’t know what that means for this ride.  Hell, I don’t know what it means for the future.  What I do know, is when my best friend looks her dad in the eyes and says Tank is just her friend, that’s the truth.  Whatever feelings she may have had are gone.  Whatever possibilities could have been, no longer exist.  Tank is and always has been important to her.  The opportunity of a future for them to build something together is gone.  I have no doubts she cares for him, as he does for her.  They both realize they can’t be together for different reasons and, on different terms, they have come to know and accept this. 

Danza shakes his head and runs his fingers through his long brown hair.  In this moment, his age shows, the worry lines crease his brow, and the twinkle in his eye now full of distress. 

“Okay, Sass.  I’ll let him be, on your word that there’s nothing there.  Baby girl, listen to Tripp and Rex, stay outta trouble and keep your fucking mouth shut.”  With that he turns around and goes back inside. 

My dad is leaning inside the doorframe watching me.  I mouth the words, ‘I love you, Daddy’.  He nods his head in acknowledgement.  I put the half shell helmet on my head.  Looking over, Savannah has dropped in behind Rex.  Tripp is on his bike, engine started, the unique tick of the Harley Davidson engine rumbling all around me.  He has no sissy bar.  This is going to make for an even closer ride than I’m used to.  I place my hand on his shoulder.   He watches me intently as I swing my leg over and settle in behind him.

My jean clad legs leave little wiggle room as I try to find my place.  Typically, I could use the sissy bar to push back against and give myself some space.  Having nothing but Tripp, I lean into him as I push my weight into my butt and downwards onto the foot pegs.  I settle my hands gently on his hips.  Apparently, he can sense my unease, or my weight differential is not comfortable to him because he grabs my hands one at a time and pulls me up against him.  My chest now firmly against his back.  My head is resting on his shoulder.  My thighs wrapped tightly to him as the vibration of the bike radiates up my core.  He’s brought my hands up to cradle his chest.  I couldn’t get any closer if I wanted to.  This is by far the most erotic moment I’ve had on a bike ever, and we haven’t moved yet. 

He releases the brake slowly and gently turns the throttle.  With a calm and controlled thrust we take off out of the parking lot.  The movement of his foot as he changes gears gives a slight shift of his leg.  Each subtle change draws me into him more.  As we accelerate, the bike comes to life beneath me.  The wind against my face feels like wild abandonment.  Even through my clothes, the bikes vibrations radiate to my core tingling through my body, making me aware of the freedom in this moment.  The quiet around us as the miles go by.  The steady rhythm of the bike is calming to my soul. 

I’ve ridden with my dad more times than I can count.  I have my own Harley Davidson Sportster.  Driving itself is liberating.  It’s a feeling of fierce independence.  Never in my life did I imagine anything feeling better than that.  Until now.  This is home, this is peace, and this is how it’s supposed to be. 

I’ve never had ol’ lady aspirations.  I’m a Hellion, with or without being tied to a brother.  In this moment, it’s not about being an ol’ lady; it’s about being one with your man, being one with the road, and being one with your bike.  It’s about being one with the ride.  This is a moment of clarity for me, as I realize why women want to be ol’ ladies.  They have this one moment, where they have a connection, and later make a commitment.  All to live for that one moment, one connection, one commitment, and one ride. 

Usually bitches are crawling all over me when they climb on my bike.  Not Doll, she looks for a way to support herself.  The bike we’re on is not mine; rather, it’s a club bike.  Had I known Doll would be riding with me, I would’ve taken the time to install a sissy bar.  We would still be close but at least she would have somewhere to rest her back.

As she leans into the curves with me, it’s easy to get lost in the ride.  Her arms wrapped around me, one of her hands tight against my heart.  Her chest up against my back as the steady rise and fall of her breathing lets me know she’s relaxed and comfortable.  The loud rumble of the engine, the power of the bike under me, and the softness of a woman behind me is all consuming.  Life is not about the breaths you take, but the moments that take your breath away.  This is one of those moments.  For this one moment, everything feels right in a way that it never has before. 

Without thinking, I reach my left hand down and gently squeeze her thigh.  Never before, have I felt the desire to connect with anyone.  She relaxes further into me.  Her left hand begins tracing circles over my heart.  Every minute ticking by feels intimate in a way I’ve never experienced before.  My chest constricts at the thought of being close to someone.  I don’t live the lifestyle for that.  Protect Doll, yes, I will.  Beyond that, she’s off limits.  Putting those thoughts back into perspective, I quickly remove my hand from her thigh and back to my handlebar. 

Feeling me tense and pull on the throttle to accelerate us further, Doll stills her hand and tightens behind me.  She feels the sting of the rejection I just dished out.  Perceptive, just like her father; I’ll be quick to remember that as well.  I’ve got a job to do, and a very serious one at that.  My boys rely on me to keep them safe and out of jail, given the nature of our business.  For me, this task feels so much more, I can’t explain it, but on a deeper level, this ride feels like it’s everything.

On Our Way

At the condo, I stuff a backpack quickly.  Knowing Tripp and I shared a moment on the bike, entices me to pack my pretty panties, just in case.  Even if Tripp remains honorable to the fact that I’m Roundman’s daughter, I still deserve to feel sexy.

Does the man have to be so honorable though?  Seriously, I get it.  I’m Roundman’s Doll.  I’m so far off limits, I’m on another planet.  It doesn’t mean I plan to make it easy for him.  He’s hot.   Any red blooded woman would want a sample of him.  Daddy doesn’t need to know about one hookup.  

Knowing that Delatorre could already be watching me causes a moment of insecurity.  I’m not naïve enough to ever think the club was perfectly legitimate and safe.  Never have I had someone follow me home though.  Then again, I was raised to keep my nose out of other people’s business.  My dumbass broke the cardinal rule of ‘turn your head and look the other way’.  See no evil, hear no evil, and speak no evil. I saw it, spoke to it and watched it backhand a defenseless woman who looked like a stiff wind could blow her over.

Some broad comes in all broken, I feel bad, and get involved.  If it was another MC, I never would’ve given her a second thought.  That would be their club business.  But no, this Amy bitch comes along and I fall for her victim game.  The Hellions are now in danger, a long term business deal long gone, and a shit load of people on lock down because I had a moment of kindness for a stranger.  This is why good people don’t get involved.  They get burned.

My frustration is at its boiling point.  Packing is relatively easy when you know you will be wearing jeans and a t-shirt every day.  Heels aren’t made for a bike ride; therefore, they will remain in my closet. I did squeeze in one little black dress and one pair of flats in the event we get to go out.  It’s springtime so I only need to pack basics.  Fitting toiletries and clothes for an unknown amount of time into a backpack is not an easy task.  Given the bike has no sissy bar, I have to fit what I need in a back pack to stay on me and in the two small saddlebags the bike has. 

Stepping outside, I look over at Sass, who is already settled behind Rex.  Tripp is on his bike, his tattered jeans, black boots, t-shirt, and Hellions cut all add to the sex appeal that is undeniably him.  His hands resting on the gas tank on top of his half shell helmet, his long hair is knotted low on the back of his neck, and a black bandana covers his head.  Following his gaze, I see him focused on the ocean view that can be seen through the breezeway of our condo.  From our balcony, the view is breathtaking.  His face is tight showing he’s deep in thought; about what, I don’t know.  While watching him, something deep inside of me yearns to know more about this man.

The smell of salt in the air, the crashing of the waves in the distance, and the sounds of seagulls surround me.  The tranquility of the beach, the calm, the peace, and the serenity one can find here shows why so many decide to vacation, retire, or choose to live here.  It’s the great escape. 

Turning my head as I come out of my musings, I see her standing in front of me.  Her stare pulls at something deep inside that I’ve never felt before.  Running my hand across my chest absently, our eyes lock.  Her gaze does nothing to tame the unknown yearning building inside of me. 

She’s a job.  She’s a Hellion.  She’s off limits.  I remind myself over and over again as she walks over to me.  When she reaches the bike, she pulls her backpack over her arms, settling it into place on her shoulders.  She’s braiding her hair to keep it from tangling in the wind. 

“Do I need to switch the bikes or stop and add a sissy bar before we leave the area?  Charlotte is a long ride.”  I ask not sure if she’s up for the discomfort of the five hour ride.

If need be, we can go back to the compound, add a sissy bar or trade the bike to something more comfortable for her, like an Ultra Classic or Screaming Eagle.  I’m sure one of the guys would have a full dresser, weekender ride.

“I’ve been farther than Charlotte with nothing to lean on, Tripp.  I got this, no worries, let’s go.  The quicker we leave, the more my dad can focus and get this over with.”  She replies in a somewhat somber tone. 

She’s going to miss home.  This is the first sign of sadness she’s shown.  Anger, surprise, and defiance have all been ever present, but this is the first sign of discomfort and sadness.

I crank the bike as she puts on her helmet.  Revving the throttle for the hell of it, she climbs on.  She settles in behind me.  Her hands are lower this time as she pulls tight against me.  She is wrapped around my waist, her hands are roaming my abdomen, causing my muscles to twitch involuntarily through my clothing.

The weather is nice, the company is quiet, and the scenery much better on the back roads as we head out.   Avoiding the interstate, we stick with the country roads, nothing but pavement and pine trees as we make our way back to my home.  The more Doll settles herself in behind me, the more I find myself relaxing into the ride.

Arriving in town, we pull up to my house.  Something inside me twists as I think, having Doll on this ride, I could get used to having someone on the back of my bike.  I pull the bike through my back gate.  The garage is full with my truck and two motorcycles.  Rex and I live together.  He has a shop in the back for his car and bike; there is enough room back here for these two bikes to be stored safely.  Our house is small, two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living room, and a kitchen. 

We pull the bikes in, and turn them off as the girls both climb off.  Grabbing the contents of the saddlebags, Rex and I lead the way in through the back door.  This leads in through the kitchen.  It’s painted in an ugly ass blue color.  The realtor called the kitchen décor French country, whatever the fuck that means.  It’s a house, a place to eat, sleep, shit, shower, and fuck.  No more, no less. 

“Sass, you can take Rex’s room tonight.  He’ll show you where to put your things.  Doll, follow me and you can crash in my room.”

“Where will you two sleep?” Doll asks with genuine interest. 

“On the couch and in the chair,” I answer blankly.

What a dumb question.  I can’t leave them here alone, but I’m sure as shit not sharing a room with her if I can help it.  There will be enough of that on this trip, why start my test in self-control early?

“Sass and I can share a room so you both don’t have to give up your space.” She says somewhat timidly.

Grabbing her hand, I guide her to my bedroom.  “We’re only here two days tops.  Once Delatorre has his shipment, we go on the move.  For now, Roundman wants things to look normal.  It’s one, maybe two nights, Rex and I have slept on far worse than a couch and a chair.  Make yourself at home.”

“Well, thank you.  Who would’ve thought a Hellion could be so considerate?  Tripp you’re a real gentleman.”  She says with a breathtaking smile. 

Unable to resist, I pull her into me.  Her head slams into my chest.  I place my arm around her waist and trace circles on the small of her back.  Inhaling her scent of ocean and coconut, I put my other hand around her braid.  I tug gently, pulling her face to look up at me.  Leaning down, breathing against her ear, I whisper to her.

“I’m no gentleman, Doll.  No, I’m the man to fuck you seven ways to Sunday.  I’m not the man you settle down with or you settle for.”

Her breathing now coming in pants, I quickly release her and exit the room.