Page 4

Crow

P atterson’s is packed and rowdy. It’s a regular Friday night, complete with enough debauchery to make even a hardened sinner blush, but it’s nothing compared to the parties at the clubhouse. At least no one is over in a corner getting a blowjob or sitting at one of the booths having some not so discreet sex.

I don’t know why I notice things tonight that I never have before. Alright. I’ve noticed, but nothing has ever bothered me.

The barely dressed club whores, their ass cheeks hanging out of short shorts and miniskirts, breasts pushed up and on full display. Barb is hanging all over both twins tonight and I can actually see the tips of her dusky nipples peeking out of the t-shirt that she’s cut up and refashioned into something that’s split down her breasts and ends above her naval.

The twins are thrilled with her double D demonstrative DIY. I wouldn’t put it past them to take her back to the clubhouse later, where they’ll share her.

It’s nearly one in the morning. I just walked in the door ten minutes ago and noted immediately that the level of rowdy drunk correlates to the late hour.

I spot Tarynn rushing around the place, carrying trays that look too heavy for her. She’s all easy smiles, but they’re never flirty. Just friendly. She’s a big girl and I know she can take care of herself, but I experience a low level secondhand embarrassment that she has to try and serve people who, at this point, would be better off finding a room and taking it private.

At least no one has tried to get handsy with her. The guys from the club wouldn’t dare, but I wouldn’t put it past the few civilian assholes in here. There’s a guy with a backwards baseball cap and a cocky swagger that drew my attention when I first walked in and made me want to instantly smash his face into the side of the pool table.

Oof, and you’re not even the personality that’s drawn towards violence. I give your plan two hearty thumbs up, except that it would be so much more pleasing to finish up by breaking a bottle in his face first and tossing him out the window last. Maximum damage or nothing at all. I can give you a few pointers for creative ways to use a pool ball that would make a dentist weep…

It’s another five minutes before Tarynn even makes her way towards this side of the bar. I’m in my usual place near the door, not far from the pinball machines. They’re blinking and flashing even though most of the crowd here was too drunk an hour ago to hammer away at them.

I have my arms crossed, my pose rigid.

Despite my usual glower that drives people away, Tarynn walks right up. She’s dressed the same as last week, with her Patterson’s black tank that hugs her curves and outlines her breasts. Her skirt is different thought. It’s denim, but straight, knee length. She’s the only woman in this place brave enough to wear cowboy boots, not once, but repeatedly. I like that she doesn’t need to fit in. She’s here to work, not to offer herself up on the meat market.

The other two servers couldn’t be more different. Chastity is currently over at the other end of the bar, basically sitting on the edge of a pool table, spreading her legs as wide as they can go without being obscene, for Reckless. He’s old enough to be her father, but maybe she’s one of those girls who enjoys her daddy issues. I’m not judging.

Fucking right you aren’t. You have enough issues of your own, sweetheart. She wants to get some from the big guy? Nothing wrong with that. At least he’s got somewhat of a normal brain.

I narrow my eyes, pissed off at Raven’s incessant chatter. Tarynn pauses, thinking that I’m displeased to see her. Fuck, I’m an idiot. I stop glowering and she resumes walking towards me.

“Hey,” she greets me casually. She hesitates for a minute, her smile faltering, but then her words flow out if her at an astonishing rate. “You were right. I need to make some changes. I want to move out. I don’t want to go to med school. I need to get my own place and my own ride. I want to get a bike. I have the money for something older and smaller, but I can’t afford private lessons. I wouldn’t know where to start with the learning. If you’re willing to give me some pointers, I could hook you up with as many grilled cheeses as you could ever want. Anything you can dream up, I’ll cook.”

Just like that, my foul mood evaporates. This woman has done something I didn’t think was possible. She’s shocked me.

I can’t help but stare, my eyes raking over her lovely hair, pulled into a high ponytail. She’s nearly makeup free again, her lovely features standing on their own. I should stop at her face, but my eyes keep going, lingering on the curve of her breasts before I tear them back up. Her forehead is furrowed, and I realize what I’ve just done.

My cock screams at me to accept her suggestion. Raven is oddly silent, leaving the decision up to me.

My body aches just thinking about how she’d look on the back of my bike. How her arms would feel wrapped around me, her breasts slammed up against my back. She’d need to hold onto me at first, terrified of the noise and speed of my bike beneath us, but gradually she’d realize she was safe. She’d feel that same exhilarating freedom that I do. The image doesn’t cut off. Instead, it goes further. Her hand releasing my waist and venturing lower, running over the bulge in my jeans, begging breathily in my ear for me to take her somewhere, bend her over my bike and plow my thick cock inside of her.

Fuck.

It’s worse because in my head, nothing’s accurate. She wouldn’t be wearing a helmet. Her red hair would be streaming out behind us like a glorious flag. She’d be incautious and unsafe, and I would never allow that. I’d never be able to hear a sultry whisper in the screaming wind and over the roaring bike.

In no world, would this woman ever touch me that way.

In no word, should someone like Tarynn ever get involved with someone like me.

I, on the other hand, would love to get involved!

“No.” The word is a gruff explosion that literally makes Tarynn take a step back. I hate myself even more than I normally do, but this is for the best. “It’s not a good idea.” I’m afraid of messing her up. Ruining her life. I could never allow someone to get close to me again. It’s not a mistake I’m going to make a second time. “You shouldn’t have listened to that shit I was spouting the other night. What the fuck do I know about anything? I was wrong.”

I make sure to push that extra mile on the asshole front before I literally give her the cold shoulder, brushing past her to stalk out the door. I let it slam shut behind me. The night rushes up to receive me with sticky, humid arms.

I stomp over to my bike, in a hurry to be anywhere but here.

If I stay even so much as an extra second, I’m going to walk back in there and apologize. Maybe even do the unthinkable and explain myself.

I kick my bike to life, slap my brain bucket on my head, and peel out of the asphalt parking lot.

The night sky greets me, open and free, as I tear down the highway that would, within the hour, meet up with the outskirts of Seattle. I lean into the wind, letting it rush past me, the open sky just about the only luxury that I allow myself. The bike’s deep growl tears apart the silent night. I concentrate on that so I can lose myself. So many men are attracted to this life for the usual reasons. A club is a place that accepts them for who they are.

Damaged, broken, unable to function in mainstream society—our club trends towards that. We’re not a haven for criminals who want to live rough without consequences. We treat our women with respect, because that’s a club rule.

I got interested in bikes when I was in my early twenties. I didn’t know how to handle myself. Didn’t know how the fuck to deal with the incessant voice in my head, constantly pushing to shove me aside and take over. I was always torn, at war with myself. I was a piece of shit kid because no one wanted to listen.

After Raven busted us out of the hospital my parents put me in, I found work where I could, and most of it wasn’t honest or legal. That didn’t make it all bad. Some of it was just cash under the table physical labor. After years of bounding around, I got my GED. I was drawn to bikes from the first. I bought a shit bucket and fixed her up myself before selling it for a pretty good chunk of profit and getting another. I worked my way up, until I could buy my first Harley from new.

At that point, I got the hell out of California. I rode all the way north, stopping here and there in little towns to do work. I never stayed in one place long, but I did manage to burn two years doing it. I never stopped heading north, never stopped trying to outrun myself. Not until I reached Hart.

I would have kept going, except the first thing I saw when I rolled into town was a group of men in the Patterson’s parking lot, although it wasn’t called Patterson’s back then. Their rough, leather clad look appealed to me, but it was their bikes that sealed the deal. I pulled in for a burger and never left. Of course, those men were Satan’s Angels. They offered to take me around to the club and see about prospecting, if I was interested in joining. I guess I had that outlaw vibe about me even back then. That haunted look of a man looking for the only sort of family he’ll ever find.

Pushing thoughts of the past aside, I ride halfway to Seattle, but turn around and head back slowly, focusing on the ride, the wind in my face, the vibrations beneath me, the lights of Hart in the distance. They gradually grow closer, hazy like it’s foggy, even though it’s a clear night.

I mean to head straight past Patterson’s, but the closer I get, the more Tarynn’s face plays through my mind as I left her. Green eyes wide and sad. She looked crushed. She didn’t deserve the cruelty I served her like a goddamn four course meal. In just a few sentences, I filled her up with it. Shattered her.

You were just trying to keep her safe, sweetheart, no harm done.

I’m surprised it took the bastard this long to start antagonizing me.

You should pull in. She’ll be finishing up her shift right now. Impeccable timing, Crow. Wait for her. Explain to her in exceptionally vivid terms what it means to get on the back of a man’s bike. That alone should chase her away, but at least she’ll get why you’re such a total prick.

I expected worse advice.

You could always woo her with your exceptionally charming personality. Tell her how you looked her up online. Tell her how you want to eat her sweet pussy like a four course meal and come on her pretty tits.

There we go.

I find myself veering off the road anyway, back into the asphalt parking lot. It has to be after two. Most of the bikes and other vehicles are gone, but the ancient old blue monstrosity that belongs to Tarynn is there, lonely, at the far side of the lot.

I pull up beyond it, killing my bike and leaving it parked in the shadows. The parking lot is ringed by tall trees. Perfect for someone with nefarious intent to hide out and wait for the young women who waitress here to come out after their shifts. Just thinking that sparks a surge of wild anger that I can barely tamp down.

Are you going to start following her around? Making sure she’s safe? How exciting. Ask Gunner for some pointers after all. He could give you a master class in first rate stalking. Scratch that. Second rate. He got his ass kicked by the woman he was creeping because he’s really just amateur hour.

Asshole.

Love you too, sweetheart.

I wait with my arms folded, leaning against my bike, the dark of night concealing me. I tell myself that all I’m going to do is wait and watch, make sure that Tarynn makes it to her car safely. I know it’s a bad idea. I should leave. Tarynn will be fine. Patti always makes sure her staff makes it out okay. I know for a fact that she watches from the backdoor. My worries are misplaced.

This is a terrible idea. Raven’s silence seems ominous.

The back door opens suddenly, spilling light onto the darkened asphalt. Patti’s voice drifts out into the night and Tarynn steps out. She’s only halfway to her car, her boots echoing against the asphalt, when she waves Patti off. The door shuts, cutting off the light. Tarynn fumbles with her keys. The light from the diner’s windows doesn’t reach out to her car. My throat closes up as anger chokes me. There’s no fucking way she should be this careless about her safety.

I shouldn’t approach her, but I mean to have a few words about it and offer her a brief explanation that will no doubt turn her off the idea of ever getting on the back of any bike.

I’m silent as I walk over. She’s still fumbling with her keys, the car so old that it needs one inserted into a physical lock before she can get in. Sneaking up on her will only enforce my point.

“Tarynn.”

The second her name leaves my mouth, she shrieks, whirls around, and delivers a swift swipe to my jaw. Her knuckles don’t make contact, but the keys do. They’re threaded through her fingers and at least she has the sense to use them like a weapon. Unfortunately for me, I didn’t have the sense to see it coming.

My skin tears, pain blooming red hot at the serrated metal cuts deep. I don’t have time to react to the smell and feel of my own blood before Tarynn follows up her key attack with a pointed cowboy boot straight to my nuts.

I drop to the pavement so fast I don’t even know how I got down there. There’s no groaning, only gagging. I retch and cough, spraying a thin line of spittle over my bloody chin onto the ground. The air I try to force into my collapsed lungs is hot, salty metal, and dusty tar.

“Crow? Jesus Christ! What are you doing here?”

Even though I’m practically paralyzed and just about had the lower half of my face ripped off, the sound of her—of all people—taking the Lord’s name in vain, hits me hard. Right in my pulverized balls, which only makes them throb harder.

Again, you didn’t let me have time to get the popcorn, you bastard. Wait! Hold that pose. I need a photo for posterity’s sake. Just so the next time you ask me what our lowest low is, I can remind you of this exact moment. Laughing my nuts off. Except not. Those are our nuts, douchebag. Take better care of them or I’m going to rip out and make you sorry.

Oh, I’m sorry alright. I’m sorry that I ever underestimated this woman. I’m sorry that she drops to her knees on the dirty, grimy asphalt and tries to help me. I flinch away from her touch, not wanting her to get blood and spittle on her hands.

I roll away, shoving to my hands and knees, dragging in ragged gulps of air while my jaw drips blood all over.

“You’re not okay,” Tarynn whimpers. “Hold on. Err… no. Can you get up? I need to get you inside. Patti has a first aid kit in the kitchen. I used keys on you. Dirty old metal. Do you have a current tetanus shot? Oh gosh. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

She fumbles with her bag and does the worst thing she can do. She turns her phone’s flashlight on and shines it right into my face.

“Argh!” she screams, quickly whipping it away. “That’s going to need stitches.”

“I’m fine,” I choke out.

“And some ice for your groin.”

“Totally… fine,” I lie through gritted teeth. There’s a good chance I might die from the pain in my balls.

“You’re not.” Her perfect, warm little hands slide around my shoulder. My whole body recoils and leans into her touch. I’m used to being torn, but not like this. “Let me help you inside. You can’t go anywhere like this. I’ll give you a ride- err- home after?”

“Now that the initial shock of being ball bagged is wearing off, I’m feeling much better. Thank you anyway.”

I shake her off and stagger to my feet, but the warm gush of blood stops me cold. Fuck. How bad is it? The way she recoils at the bloody rainstorm tells me that I can’t go anywhere without some doctoring. I need a goddamn bandage on this. A few inches lower and she could have torn out my artery.

Fun times.

“Can you shut the ever loving fuck up?” I growl low under my breath. I don’t realize I’ve said it out loud until Tarynn blinks at me. There’s just enough light from her phone that I see the hurt and confusion on her face. “Sorry.” I shake my head, sending droplets of blood spattering to the ground. “Was just telling that asshole voice in my head to fuck off.”

“Oh,” she breathes, then nods. “I get that. I’m always doing that with myself too. It’s so annoying when your thoughts just won’t shut off.”

“Yeah.” I slap my hand over my bleeding jaw, which sends a lightning bolt of fiery pain through me. My dirty, disgusting hand that was just clawing at the ground.

“Let’s get you inside.” I have no other choice. I follow her to the backdoor and wait while she knocks hard. I keep my hand at my jaw to try and stop the bleeding. “Someone once told me that feelings aren’t facts, and you have to just ignore that snarky stuff in your head,” she whispers, giving me the softest, sweetest smile.

She’s only trying to help.

Oh, love, she has no fucking idea. But I like her. I’m starting to see what all the fuss is about. She’s plucky. Pretty. Maybe just perfect for the both of us.

The door cracks open, flooding us both in golden light, and I shake off Raven’s ominous threat and shove him even further to the recess of my mind. He’s imprisoned and locked away. I’m the dominant. I won’t let him out. I’ll never let him hurt Tarynn. Never.

Maybe I’ll never let him out again, period.

The fuck, Crow? We’ll fucking see about that.