The Ride (2 page)

Lil

            I left eight years ago and I never looked back. I didn't hate the club. In fact I actually loved them. Loved them to death. Still do. They are my protection. My heart. They are my
family.
All I knew. All I still know. I grew up surrounded by cuts, bikes, and outlaws. I just wanted more for myself. More out of life than the club could offer me at the time. I needed to carve a life out for myself. Go to college, study, build a career. I wanted to have my own home, own friends. I needed to create a life that wasn't completely set up and backed by the club. A place on this earth just made by me. I wanted to just be me. I didn't run when I left. I didn't turn my back on them. I asked my dad if I could go and he let me. The club let me go. Moving away I never forgot who I was or where I came from. There are some things you never outgrow. The club is one of them. They have a way of holding onto you. Keep you coming back for more. Always finding myself comparing the outside world to the club, never able to truly let them go. Eight long years and I'm back…

            Pop's called me a few months after my mom died. He cried. The man I watched walk out of our front door clad in his cut and leathers riding a motorcycle. The man who ran an entire club. The man with a plethora of weapons. The man I watched beat men to a bloody mess. The man I knew who could be ruthless and heartless. The man who killed. That man cried. The same man that tucked me in at night. Played dolls with me. Took me to the mall. Painted my nails. Sang me songs. Danced with me. That man cried. Cried for the love he lost. I know he misses her. I miss her every damn day too. My mother was a beautiful woman. Dark hair, deep dark sloe-eyes, smooth tan skin. Part Native American, she was stunning. For all the beauty she had an even bigger heart. My mother Lucy was a kind, loving, caring, and giving person. Loved my father, myself, and her club fiercely. Loved us all until the moment she took her last breath. Born into the club just like my father they were meant for one another. Although my father was born into an entirely different club they fit perfectly together. She was his everything. The reason he got up in the morning. She was his reason for breathing. His soul mate. My mother was someone he knew his entire life. He lost a lifelong friend along with his wife the days she died. We lost our heart that day. He told me he needed me back. I packed my shit and came back. He calls I come running. Always did and always will. Left my life behind. I'd do anything for him. Anything for that club. I'd give my life for anyone of them. Knowing they'd do the same. It's my family.

            I've got to admit I'm a little nervous about walking into that room. Not worried about the guys really. I can handle them. It's just been a long time. Not so sure what to expect any more. Pops told me to wait and so here I am leaning against the wall outside the chapel door waiting. Drove in together so I'm stuck waiting. Looking down I notice I really need to paint my nails. Picking at the chipped black polish I wait. Always waiting on my damn pops. Waiting is something I didn't miss. All the nasty gash in the club are staring at me. I can feel their eyes on me. Their express are either ones of hate, suspicion, jealously, and maybe a little fear thrown in there. Big tits hanging out of their far too small tops. Ass cheeks and vaginas peeking out from short skirts and shorts, all of the jean and leather variety. I swear they all shop at the whore Baby Gap. Two weeks’ worth of makeup caked on their tired faces. Hair color coming from a box bought at the local Wal-Mart, desperately in need of touch ups. Tans obtained from a bed. Stripper heel clad feet, clear and plastic. A classy bunch these ones are. One girl with blonde over dyed hair sneers at me when I look over my shoulder. Slut. No old ladies around right now. The whores probably wondering who I am and why I get to stand so close to the church door. Stupid bitches. They'll learn real fast who I am. I smiled at them when I came in, but what I'd like to do is snatch their skank asses up by their hair and toss them out the door. But they sever their purpose. Fun for the boys. Their little play things. I get it. “Doll face?” I hear my pop's deep voice holler for me. Stealing myself I take a deep breath. Show time. Pushing the door open with my foot I walk in. Head held high. You don't hold yourself with respect, these motherfuckers sure as shit won't. Walking over to my pops I don't bother looking at the guys. He pulls me into him, kissing my forehead. No matter how old you are the safest you'll ever be is in your dad's arms. Turning me to the boys I let them get a good look. Finally able to look out on the guys. I look at each and every one. Sizing them up, giving them a smile. Most I know. There are a few new faces. One man catches my eye right away. So damn hot. Too damn hot. Bright blue eyes, sexy lips. I don't let myself linger on him long. Can't get caught staring. Looking away I focus back on dad. It's a quick introduction then I'm sent packing with a body guard. Just my luck I get beautiful blue eyes. I have a place and it isn't in chapel so I leave without a word. I know better than to hang around. Of course my dad sends one of the few guys I don't know with me. Shit, at least he's nice to look at. Isn't that lovely? It's my lucky day. He is a beast of a man. Dark hair cut short on the sides, a tad shaggy on top. Just enough hair to tug on. Sexy lips with a permanent ass hole smirk on them. Hard jaw in need of a good shave. Dark stubble as far as the eye can see. It's that yummy facial hair. You know the lickable kind. Pissed off hard eyes framed by dark lashes. Well over six feet tall. Large, strong body. A body equipped with massive muscles. Broad sturdy shoulders, thick arms, and long strong legs. A body made for rough sex and dirty fighting. Dusty skin, tattoos covering one arm. A few on his neck. The possibility of a few hidden ones under all that biker gear. As soon as we walked outside he put on a hat. It's a nice addition. Backwards black fitted cap. Work CAT boots, jeans, dirty ass gray shirt, and his black leather cut. Fully patched rocking his,
our,
three piece colors on his back. Everything a biker should be. But it's his eyes, crystal blue. Beautiful and mesmerizing.

            The truck ride was fun to say the least. Little talk, and a whole lot of side way glances. Big bad ass biker isn't one for meaningful conversations. Who'd ‘a thought? Pulling up in front of pop's place I hop out before the trucks in park. No need for awkward conversation. I'm not the hanging around type. I need a shower and some food. My mood a little scattered and a headache nagging. “I'll be here,” Tank grunts. This is nothing new. Shit's going down, all women are always escorted. Fallowing me to the door he stops as soon as I'm safely inside. Settling his big body into a rocking chair on the porch he gets comfortable. Damn knife at his side, a gun in the waist of his jeans. I can't imagine how sitting is comfortable, but whatever. Nodding my okay I head in. Straight to the shower I go. Stripping down on my way. I let the warm water wash over me. I can't help but be a little thoughtful about big and bulky on my porch. God damn is he sexy. All large and scary. Trouble all over in that smirk. I remind myself that this not why I'm here, but hell if a little rough fun doesn't sound exciting. It's been too damn long. Rinsing off I turn off the shower. Toweling off I get into some comfy clothes. Hair in a wet messy bun I throw on some clothes. Big black and white checked thermal button up on, hanging to mid-thigh. It was my high school boyfriend's, before he hauled off and got himself killed. It's worn and comfortable. One of the few things I have left of him. He turned his back on the club. No loyalty, they offed him. I'm not bitter about it. Not even heartbroken over it anymore. Sometimes it's a sad memory I dredge up from time to time. I guess I'm more careful now than anything about life and my love after him. That was the lesson I learned. Be cautious with my heart. He's dead and I've moved on. But that's a whole can a worms I do not want to open. He died taking a part of my heart right along with him. Asshole.

            The smell of fire roasted tomatoes, cheese, and herbs greet me in the kitchen. Before going to the club with my pops I started dinner. Taking it out of the oven I notice it's really coming down outside now. Rain pounding on the house. An angry summer storm rolling in. Glancing through the window I can see big and beefy in the rocking chair looking bored as hell. Cleaning his nails with his buck knife, his face blank and bored. He can't be dry out there either. Why do I do this? They're not all lost broken puppies. Before I can talk myself out of it I'm at the back door. “Aye, you hungry?” I ask him leaning against the door frame, arms crossed. Made a big pan of lasagna might as well share it. Pops and I can't eat the whole thing alone. Head jerking up his eyes pop up to me in surprise. For a second he just looks at me not saying anything. Eyes leisurely travel from my head to toe. What the hell? A big smile breaks over his face after a second. Nodding he pushes himself off of the chair, muscles pulling and straining at his movements. Well God damn. “You sure?” he mutters before he comes in. Jesus Christ, these damn rules. “You hungry or not?” I retort over my shoulder walking back inside. The door clicking closed gives me my answer, he's hungry. Walking around the kitchen putting the finishing touches on dinner, plating food, and cleaning up as I go I can feel his eyes on me. Watching every move I make. Every step I take. He’s damn near starring holes through me. “You gunna put more clothes on then that?” he finally asks me. His rough deep voice catching me off guard. It’s just so deep and gruff. Standing at the sink I look over my shoulder at him. “If I do you gunna stop staring at me?” I retort smartly, lifting an inquiring brow at him. Tank snorts a laugh, clearly amused at my question. “No, probably not.” Well at least he's honest. Setting a big plate of lasagna, bread, and salad on the breakfast bar for him I look him in the eyes. Leaning into the kitchen island I smile sweetly and say, “then no. I like being comfortable and this,” I tell him waving a hand at my shirt, “is comfortable.” Shaking his head he rolls his eyes. “God forbid you not be comfortable babe.” My turn to roll my eyes. Ignoring him I sit myself across from him with my own plate and we begin to eat in silence. Smiling at me he digs in. That's a heartbreaking smile right there. Dimples and all. Dropping girls on their knees with one smile. To good looking for his own good. Shaking my head I dig in too. Yeah to damn good looking. “Fuckin' hell women. You a chef or somethin'?” he mumbles around a mouth full of food a few moments later. Lovely manners. A chef? Not even close. “College professor,” I mutter dryly. Well college professor to be if I didn't come here that is anyways. Eyes pull up to mine, damn near chocking on his food. He looks a little confused. “No shit?” He sounds doubtful. Figured this would illicit that type of reaction. I just smile and nod at him. I wonder if he even knows anything about college. Probably never set foot anywhere near one. Yeah, it's doubtful. I refrain from making a snarky remark. “You're a teacher?” he asks me again. Face still full of doubt. “Where you think I've been the last eight years?” I counter quickly. Shrugging he mumbles, “not a clue.” He goes about eating again. Thoughtfully chewing his food he keeps his eyes on his plate for a while. We eat in silence for a few more minutes. Every so often he looks over at me, smiling. Clearing his plate, setting his fork down, he turns towards me. “Like lectures, paper gradin', and assignments? You really teach college classes and shit,” he asks me. Cowboy knows his shit. Had him pegged for a complete idiot. Beauty and brains, who'd ‘a thought? “I'm workin' on it.” He looks truly shocked. That makes me laugh. Do I really look that different? Didn't know teachers looked a certain way. He looks interested, that's a surprise. “How long did that take?” he asks me sounding truly interested. A long, long time. “About seven years give or take.” Smiling he nods. He asks me questions and keeps me company while I clean up around the kitchen. He’s definitely not the worst dinner date.

2

Tank

            Watching her walk around the kitchen making Low a plate and cleaning up I can't help but feel a little fucking stumped, not to mention hard. Biker brat is a God damn professor. I've heard some crazy shit in my time and this one is something for the books. All I can picture is her in some plaid skirt. Her ass hanging out, white button up missing a few buttons, thigh high stockings, glasses on, and a ruler in her hand. Fucking her on a desk also comes to mind. Fuck maybe even smacking that ass with said ruler. I’ve got to stop I’m only making myself harder. I can't stop watching her. She just draws me right in. Holding my attention which isn’t easy. A bitch holding my attention is worth talking to. She looks nothing like I pictured. Brothers talked about how hot she was, but they didn't do her justice. Motherfuckers holding out on me. Bending down she slides the leftover food into the fridge. That sexy fucking thermal riding up. Let me tell you that kind of shirt has never looked sexier. Shit. Just the slightest bit of ass peeking out from under that shirt. Black lace panties and all. But that's not the killer. It's the god damn tattoo that's got me adjusting myself in my jeans. Hell, I'm painfully hard. Right across the back of her thigh about three inches from her ass. Some sort of scrawl right across her fucking leg. Hands twitching at my side. It's taking a lot of strength not to jump over this fucking counter and put my hands all over that body. As my will wanes the screen door slams into the house cutting my plans short. “Lil, baby,” Low booms from the door. Shooting me a curt nod as he walks in his eyes on his daughter. Emptying his pockets and holster he sets down his guns, knife, and wallet on the counter. In waddles Tiny after him. His name some sad joke. Poor guy. “Daddy,” Lil drawls. Spinning around she shrieks in excitement as soon as she sees Tiny's ugly mug. Knocking a stool over as she goes. Right into Tiny's big ass arms she jumps. “Tiny,” she sighs. A big ass happy grin on his fat face. Running his hand down the back of her head, my hands start twitching for a whole other reason. “Baby girl,” he coos adoringly at her. Jesus Christ, he's putty in her hands. Eyes soft and smiling while he looks at her. He's got to be pushing fifty, it's fucking strange and wrong. My dirty mind starts playing out all sorts of scenarios and none of which end well for Tiny. He's my brother, but I will put a bullet in his fucking skull. “Uncle Tiny I missed you,” she whines. Uncle? Lord. Twitchy hands calm down a bit. Releasing Lil he comes up behind me, slapping my shoulder. “Keepin' watch, yeah?” he snorts in disbelief. Shaking him off I ignore him. He thinks I'm here trying to get some pussy huh? If I wanted it I'd get it. Don't need to be trying for it. Never in my life have I had to work for pussy and I’m not starting now. Sliding off of the stool I know I'm not needed round here anymore. Heading for the door I know my time with Lil is up. Lil's head snaps towards me as I walk to the door. She watches me for a moment not saying anything. Low looks between her and I for a second. Standing up he turns to me. “Thanks brother for keepin' an eye out for my girl. Barbeque tomorrow, yeah. Bringin' the bitch?” he asks. I know what he's doing. Smart man trying to keep me away from his daughter. I don't blame him. If it weren't for him showing up she'd be bent over the kitchen island. Those pretty lace panties of hers around her ankles. My dick buried deep in her. Fucking barbeque and shit. Damn it, I forgot about that shit tomorrow. Got the God damn bitch coming. Fuck me. “Yep,” I clip, nodding stiffly at Low. “Thanks for the food Lil,” I tell her smiling weakly. Nodding my good byes to Low and Tiny I beat feet. No need to hang around. Fuck. Looking back at Lil for a second she looks a little lost. Blinking those doe eyes she fixes that shit. She nods one time before turning away from me. Fucked. Completely fucked.