Flame shrugged. “When he gets back.”
I knew that was as much information as I could expect. Club business after all.
I quickly ran into the back room to collect my purse, then waved goodbye to Beauty. “See you in the morning!”
“Bye, honey!” she called as she made her way to a rather large grizzly customer in the helmet section.
Flame was already waiting for me on his Harley, back stiff, eyes roaming and head twitching. I had only ever ridden with Rider and Styx. Strangely, it felt like I was betraying them by getting on the back of Flame’s bike. In truth, he unnerved me at the best of times. Even more so in such close proximity.
Awkwardly clambering aboard, I reached out to grip his waist but he leapt forward on a low growl. “Don’t put your fuckin’ hands ’round my waist!”
I lifted up my hands, showing they were clear from his body. “I am very sorry,” I hushed out quietly.
After a few moments, he appeared to relax. “I can’t be touched on my waist, my stomach or any lower. Okay, Mae?”
My heart beat fast with nerves and I frowned in confusion. “Okay,” I confirmed. Then I enquired, “Can I grip onto the side of your cut? Just the material, not your body? I will not touch you, I promise.”
Flame nervously glanced back, his obsidian eyes wide. Surprisingly, his hands began shaking on the handlebars. Then, hesitantly, Flame answered, “That’s fine. Just… don’t touch… don’t fuckin’ touch…”
I nodded my head in agreement, fisted his cut, and abruptly we rolled away. Fifteen minutes later, we arrived at the compound. As we parked, my pulse accelerated. A black-and-chrome Harley was parked out front—Rider’s Harley.
He was back!
Dismounting the bike, I thanked Flame and went to make my way inside the back stairwell to Styx’s apartment. Flame rode off out of compound with a roar and I stopped mere inches from the backdoor. With Styx gone on business, I should be able to speak to Rider alone, to try and get my friend back, to try and salvage whatever relationship we had left.
For the last four weeks I had been told to use the back entrance to Styx’s apartment unless the club was open to wives and old ladies. It was not a Friday or Saturday night, or a Hangmen family day for that matter, so I knew I was breaking the rules if I went in the bar without Styx. I did not want to anger Styx but…
The need to see Rider won and I found myself pushing through the doors to the bar. The first thing to greet me was the thick fog of tobacco smoke, followed by the strong scent of liquor. Rock music was blasting through the speakers and I spotted Smiler at the bar, nursing a beer.
“Good afternoon, Smiler,” I said. His eyes stuck out like organ stops on seeing me alone in the brothers’ bar. Smiler never smiled—his soubriquet was ironic—and he rarely talked. He jerked his chin up in greeting.
“Were you on the run with Rider?”
He nodded his head slowly, eyes inquisitive.
Looking down, I fidgeted with my hands. “Where is he now?”
“His room.” I went to walk off, when Smiler added, “Might wanna stay the fuck out of there, though.”
“Why?” I asked casually as a tight throat suddenly afflicted me.
“Just a heads up. Not the type of thing Prez’ll want you ’round, if you catch my drift.”
Smiler turned back to the bar and switched on the TV. Some sports game was playing. His heavy curtain of brown hair fell over his eyes, blocking him from my view.
I walked carefully through to the hallway hosting the brothers’ private rooms and knocked on Rider’s door. I could hear loud music coming from inside and after several minutes of no response, I knew he had not heard my call.
But he was in there and I was not going away without seeing him.
Sucking in a breath and checking that the hallway was empty, I pressed on the handle and pushed in… and my breath immediately caught in my throat.
Good. Lord.
Rider…
Rider was naked, muscles bunching, veins throbbing, limbs tense. Rider was on his bed… on his bed with a slight black-haired girl prostrate at his crotch. Sucking enthusiastically at his length.
He was laid back on the mattress, his eyes squeezed shut, full lips slightly parted. And the girl… Urgh! The girl was without clothes, her small body tucked right between Rider’s legs, her big blue eyes hungry as she gorged on his flesh, her attention always on Rider’s face.
Past conversations ran through my head. You got a bitch pining for you somewhere, Rider? Letti had asked.
No. No bitch anywhere.
You want to be with someone you love, I said knowingly.
Rider shrugged. I can’t shake it. It was the way I was raised.
This was not right! This entire scene was so messed up. Rider wanted more for himself than this; he had told me so. Deserved to award himself with more than this act of desperation. He wanted to wait for someone he loved. That is you. He loves you. My mind tormented me with conflicting thoughts.
There was only one thing to do.
I stormed across the previously neat bedroom, now scattered with dirty clothes and empty liquor bottles, and pulled the plug on the deafening stereo.
I was still holding the stereo’s cord in my hand when Rider lifted his head off the mattress. He looked straight into my eyes, which widened in shock, before dulling back to their previously glazed state.
The girl on her knees tried to lift her head too, but Rider’s forceful hand kept her taking his fullness in her mouth.
She whimpered and began fighting against his hold.
Rider smirked.
I retched.
This was not the Rider I had come to know.
Dropping the cord, I walked toward the bed, collecting the girl’s small pink dress and high shoes as I went. Gripping Rider’s wrist, I heaved it back from the girl’s head and she broke away with a loud gasp.