The Run (The Hells Disciples M - Jaci J

Table of Contents Title Page The Run (Hell's Disciples MC, #4) Dedication Acknowledgements About the book Play List Prologue 1 - Roommates 2 - Crazy Eyes 3 - Outdoorsy 4 - Budweiser 5 - Hitchhikers and Hobos 6 - Tits and Ass and Lennon 7 - Bed Crasher 8 - Lover Boy 9 - Two Foot Rule

10 - The Universe 11 - Lies & Secrets 12 - Knives, Guns, and Friends 13 - Confessions 14 - Fishin’ In The Dark 15 - Shootin’ Blind 16 - Hustled 17 - No Good-byes Epilogue Authors note:

The Run © 2015 Jaci J All Rights Reserved. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author or publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the author, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below [email protected] This book is a work of fiction and any

resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, any place, event, occurrence, or incident is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created and thought up from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Cover design: Margreet Asselbergs from Rebel Edit & Design dollarphotoclub.com Photo of guy; #45317909 Bigstockphoto.com Desert photo; diomedes66 #54443492 Bike photo; Bruno Zagaroli #2212055

Dedication This book is for Bonnie. My music soul sister. From the very beginning you’ve been with me reading my books, loving my guys, and supporting me. For all the teasers, videos, pictures, and love. Thank you doll face!

Acknowledgements Thank You To all of the usual cast of characters and list of suspects ... Dana “Magical Editing Unicorn” Hook, Marki, Margreet, my family, my beta readers Chris, Sam, Lena. My author sisters, my bitches, and my readers. Thank you from the bottom of my badmouthed little heart for all of your love & support. I couldn’t do this without you.

About the book Lennon ‘A passionate free spirited girl with a constant need to run,’ or ‘Unsettled,’ is how my mother would describe me. I call it an eternal eagerness to roam. My feet always seem to carry me along the path less traveled, sometimes leading me into trouble, and every once in a while, they lead me to something fu****g great. That something great might just be a bike riding, cut wearing hard-ass. Buck might just be worth slowing down and hanging around for. Buck Uninteresting―that’s what I’d say about anything outside my club. An old

lady, uninterested. Bitches beyond the bedroom, uninterested. A roommate, definitely not fu*****g interested. I ran, like a bat outta hell, from one bad situation two years ago and I’m not looking to repeat the same goddamn mistake twice, but Lennon doesn’t make it easy on a man. Crazy beautiful, a wild heart, and an infectious spirit, Lennon might just be enough to pique my interest.

Play List “Comedown” – Bush “Magic Carpet Ride” - Steppenwolf “L$D”– ASAP Rocky “Let Her Cry” – Hootie & The Blowfish “Lean On” – Major Lazor “Crazy” - Aerosmith “Enter Sandman” – Metallica “Fishin’ In the Dark” – The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band “Work Song” – Hozier “Two Princes” – Spin Doctors “American Woman” – The Guess Who “Somebody to Die For” – Hurts “My Hero” - Foo Fighters “Tuesday’s Gone” – Lynyrd Skynyrd “Breakfast in America” – Supertramp

Sometimes things start out here, right here in the middle, and they’re just mediocre. Life is okay, going pretty good, and then one thing changes it all. That one thing brings it all the fucking way up here, right here to the top, and that one thing is always fucking beautiful, yet it always fucking hurts. But you wouldn’t change it because you’ve finally got it all.

Prologue Buck Standing on my deck, I stretch my sore arms above my head. It’s fucking good to be home and off the road for a bit. I need a goddamn vacation after that ride, going from one border to another. That shit was a trek. Sitting back down, I shift in my chair, trying to get comfortable before grabbing a cold beer out of the cooler. My little slice of quiet heaven is up here in the middle of fucking nowhere. It might not be nice, fancy, or pretty, but it’s mine, and it’s exactly how I like it. It’s the one place that makes me truly happy.

In the last three months, I’ve been up and down the West Coast, from Mexico to Canada. I headed to Montana for a rally a couple weeks back and did everything in between, but now I’m ready for a fucking break. Reclining back and kicking my feet up, the heel of my boot catches and chips a piece of cedar off the railing that I’m using as a footrest. “Jesus Christ.” If it isn’t one thing it’s another. I really need to work on fixing up this rickety old motherfucker. The chipping, sun-faded, moss-covered deck has seen some good times and better days, but it’ll have to wait for now. I close my eyes and breathe in the

fresh mountain air. The smell of pine, wet grass, and dirt, hit my nostrils and I fucking smile. There’s something to be said about living this isolated country life, and all this fresh, clean air is why I stay here. It’s a fragrance I could market for those preppy city boys to make ‘em manlier. A snapping twig jars me from my entrepreneurial thoughts to the potentially dead asshole sneaking up on me. You gotta be out of your fucking mind to be sneaking around up here. Everyone around these parts owns at least one gun and ain’t afraid to shoot and ask questions later. Lifting my head from the back of the chair, I watch as a nice six point

wanders through the brush, right into my yard. I can already see the soon-to-be dead deer hanging from the rafters in my shop. I make a grab for the shotgun leaning against my side. A nice buckshot right between the eyes will do nicely. There’s a reason they call me Buck; my passion for guns, knives, and all things hunting have earned me my name. Closing an eye and squinting the other, I aim my gun right at my fury little friend as my finger flexes on the trigger. Taking a deep breath, I hold it in, aim, and shoot. “The fuck you doin’ out here all by your lonesome?” Fuck! I miss the shot by a mile when the deer leaps and bolts in

the opposite direction of my bullet. Groaning, I tip my head back to look at the asshole standing in my doorway with a grin on his ugly mug. “What the fuck does it look like I’m doin’, Rock?” He has shit timing. Slumping into the chair next to me, he shrugs and grunts, “I dunno, and I don’t care.” Tagging a beer from the little ice chest at my feet, he pops the top and empties it by half. “Well, for your uncaring ass, I was about to put a bullet between the eyes of a pretty little six point.” “Cool, I guess. You ready to go? Dan’s come a callin’,” he answers while drinking the rest of his beer. I’m home for five fucking minutes and it’s time to

roll out again. When does it stop? “You’re a fuckin’ asshole,” I tell him. Getting up I drain the rest of my beer. “Lets go.”

Tearing back down the two-lane mountain road, the glow of the club lights cut into the darkness of the desolate highway. This place has been here for as long as I’ve been walking this planet. It’s old; beat to shit and falling down, but it’s a little piece of home. It’s our little piece of home, known affectionately as “The Y.” Pulling into the gravel lot, I swing around back, parking my bike between the club and the old, busted down motel.

Shoved somewhere between the top of the mountain and isolated highway at the bottom, the club is like a small biker retreat in the middle of fucking nowhere. Poncho, leaning on his bike, is already waiting for us. Shutting my bike off, I flip the kickstand down and hop off. “Let’s go in,” Poncho says, jerking his head towards the door. “Think I’m just gonna sit out here all night?” I mutter, walking right past him. It’s hot as fuck out here, not that the club is much cooler, but I’m not gonna hang out here and twiddle my goddamn thumbs when I could be inside, drinking cold beer. “Fuck you, man,” he grumbles,

sounding all hurt and shit. He’s a sensitive motherfucker. “Yeah, I’m gonna take a pass on the fucking part, brother.” Walking up the gravel path to the back door, I listen to the rushing water from the river off in the distance, along with the light buzz of the woods and the hum of the generator out back. Yeah, I’m home. Bumping the door with my shoulder, I pop it open and the damn thing whines with the strain ‘cause the hinges are rusted and old as hell. “That needs fixin’,” Poncho says, pointing down at the spot where a doorknob is supposed to be. Ain’t he observant today.

“Ya think?” I’m not sure whether to laugh at the shit that comes out of his mouth or cringe. Poncho, God love him, is annoying as shit, even on a good day. The inside is loud with voices and music, making it hard to hear Poncho’s response, which is a blessing. I don’t wanna hear whatever stupid shit he’s saying anyways. The bar is dark and dusty and in need of a serious cleaning. The only light in the place comes from bulbs hanging over the pool table and the bar. “Fuck, I’m hungry,” I say to no one, but hope someone hears me and brings my ass something to eat. “Jess is gonna start bitchin’ if you go orderin’ shit now,” Rock says,

following behind me. Does he honestly think I give a flying fuck what Jess wants or doesn’t want? It isn’t her job to tell me no. After what that stupid bitch put me through, unlimited meals cooked when and how I want them should be just the start of the long list of shit she owes me. “Fuck that annoying bitch.” I wave him off. She can bitch, but it still won’t change the fact that she’ll do whatever the fuck I tell her to, whenever I say. “She’d like ya to.” Poncho ribs me. Yeah, that’s not gonna happen. I’m not that hard up. I might stick my dick in some questionable places from time to time, but even I have my limits, and Jess is a hard limit.

“Why, so it can end up rotting off my body? I’m kind of attached to my dick, thank you very much.” Literally. I’d rather die than fuck that woman again. I learned my lesson the first time around. I notice the whole crew is here and a few stragglers hangin’ around, sitting at the bar and lounging on the couches. Fucking hang arounds. Wherever we go, they follow. Speaking of hang arounds, Jess is standing by the bar, giving me the look, but the bitch looks retarded, like she’s caught a boot to the head one too many times. Fuck I’m hungry, but I’ve decided I’m not that damn hungry. Ignoring her, I make a b-line in the opposite direction. You linger around

and that woman, she’s liable to steal somethin’ from ya, like years off your life and money out of your wallet. The floor bows under my boot when I take a step in Dan’s direction, giving with my weight. The club, bar, and motel are shitholes. No one takes care of this place and it shows. Fuck, this whole goddamn piece of property is fallin’ down around its ears. There isn’t a chair in the place matches. Couldn’t tell ya what color the walls are supposed to be, and I don’t have the slightest clue as to what the floor is made of, but it’s scuffed, cracked, painted, and dirty as fuck. Tables lean, windows are broken, and the jukebox works about fifty percent of time. No

one but the strongest, hardened of the locals will come around here, and it’s not to eat. Your average passer-through would rather walk the twenty miles into town than stop in here to use a phone, ask for help, or even use the bathroom. It’s a dump, but this shitty piece of land is my second home. It’s everything we need in the world. Giving me a chin lift, Danny Boy tips his beer at me in a silent ‘get your ass over here.’ He’s sitting in the corner, conducting what looks like business with a bottle of beer and pocket knife. We aren’t a big bunch, just ten of us, well, nine now that Lou’s missing, but we’re pretty fucking big in the grand scheme of things. Here in Oregon, we

have Danny Boy as our President, Mossy as Vice President, and Tink as Treasurer. Tyler holds the position of Secretary and Rock is our Road Captain, and I’m the Sargent at Arms. We also have Poncho, Spike, and Big Ben as full-patched members. Then there’s some new prospect dipshit named Neo, gunning to be a patched member, but I just don’t see it happenin’. Just as I begin to make my way over to Danny Boy, Jess makes her move. I try to dodge her, but she’s on me like a fly on shit, immediately assaulting me by touching me and rubbing her hand on my chest. Suddenly she can’t keep her greedy little hands off me which is funny since I remember a time the bitch fucking

hated me. “Buck, baby.” Her touch makes my skin crawl. Looking down at her makeup smeared face and tired eyes, I can’t help but feel like I dodged a fucking bullet with her. “What?” Shit, I never should’ve responded. Talking to her only seems to encourage her and that’s the last thing I want to do. “I don’t like your hair like this, it’s too messy. Ya know, I’ve tried calling you,” she says, batting her eyelashes at me. I’ll bet she has, but I blocked her ass a long time ago. “Don’t care. Get the fuck off me, Jess.” Today is not the day to get on my nerves.

“Buck, we need to talk. Please?” she whines. The fuck we do. There’s nothing she can say that I haven’t already heard. Staring blankly at the bitch, I pretend to listen to her tell me all the shit she needs, but I can’t even bring myself to give a flying fuck. “Buck, are you listening to me?” I stopped listening to her two years ago. “Nope.” “Buck, dammit.” “Don’t fuckin’ “Buck” me. You got all the time you’re gonna get from me, so stay the fuck outta my way and I’ll let you keep your fucking job. If you can’t do that then get the fuck gone.” I’m not sure when she’s gonna learn. Maybe when she’s finally out on her ass; hungry,

cold, and homeless. I leave her standing there looking stupid; mouth hanging open, eyes wide. She can find someone else to tell her sob story to because I have some beers to drink and no fucks to give.

Church, a necessary evil, is held out back in room one of the no-tell motel. The Y is located in an L-shaped building with ten used and abused rooms out back of the bar. The rooms are everything that was bad about the sixties, each decorated with ugly as shit flowered wallpaper, gold bedding, piss yellow shag carpets, and furry puke-colored lamps. It’s a fucking nightmare.

Someone got the bright idea that one of these horrible rooms would be perfect to conduct business in, so they shoved the bed against one wall, dumped the nightstands and dresser outside, and stuck an old table and chairs in their place. It works, I suppose. We sit at the table in order or by rank. Dan’s at the head, Tink, Rock, and Tyler sit on his left, while Mossy and I sit on his left. Poncho, Spike, and Big Ben sit to either side at the ends. Neo, the fucking idiot, is waiting outside. Sitting around the table, I listen and I comment, but what I really want to do is go the fuck home and relax. I love the fuck outta my brothers, but I’m so damn tired.

Sticking a smoke between my lips, I flick out my Zippo. “This is one of those ‘no smoking’ rooms, brother,” Rock comments, jerking his chin towards the old sign hanging upside down on the wall. That’s the bums way of asking for a smoke. “Is that so?” I challenge him, lighting up and taking a long, satisfying drag. “You want one, you better start sayin’ that magical word, brother,” I say as I blow out a drag in his direction “Fuck you. Pass me one of those, asshole,” he chuckles. He’s such a fucking sweetheart. I slide the pack towards him and recline in my seat. “Okay boys, let’s get down to business,” Dan rumbles from the head of

the table, shutting everyone up. “We still got ATF sniffing around and local law breathing down our necks from that raid a few months back. Keep shit tight and close to the vest this week. Loose lips sink ships, remember that shit.” It’s not likely we’d forget that anytime soon. Lou’s been missing for a few weeks. He’s not a brother who would just up and leave us, so something bad had to have gone down for him to not be here. “This hand-off will net us big, so we need everyone at one hundred percent.” Sadly, that was when Lou disappeared, during a hand-off, so I’m confident we’ll all be at the ready. It cuts fucking deep to lose a brother, but we’re

working to find out anything we can on if he’s dead or alive. If we find out for certain that he’s dead, we’ll mourn him as soon as we bury the asshole responsible for taking him. “Poncho and Tyler, you do the drop in a few days. Mossy and Ben, you’re making the run up to the border. Friday we have a shipment needing an escort, so I’ll need Ben to handle that.” “I’m not doin’ it?” I ask. Three days ago he was giving me the rundown on this job. I hate when he changes shit on us at the last fucking minute. “Nah, I’ll go with Ben. He needs more hands-on experience. Ya know, get his hands dirty for a change. But I got somethin’ special for you, Buck,” Dan

informs me with a grin. Well shit, this can’t be good. Dan begins to break shit down, giving us our orders. Before we end the meeting, he asks if any of us got shit to say, and of course, someone always does. “The Road Raiders have rolled into town,” Mossy sneers. Their name alone makes me roll my eyes. In my opinion, they’re the softest group of assholes this side of the mountain, but I see Rock stiffen. I don’t like them either, but I get why Rock hates those fuckers. It runs deep in him, way before joining our club. The Road Raiders are an MC from a little town about a hundred miles east

of us. They’re nothing special in my opinion, but they like to cause shit from time to time. They like to challenge our authority, always trying to see how far they can push us. We’ve heard talk that they were partnering up, but nothing has come of it yet, at least as far as we know, but until then, they’re still a pack of pussies on bikes to me. “The bunch of them fucks?” Dan asks. Mossy is practically salivating at the idea of taking them out. “Four of ‘em. They ain’t causin’ trouble, but I think they’re scoutin’. Not sure if they’re lookin’ for trouble or just travelin’ through, but we should keep an eye on ‘em.” The Road Raiders are our number

one suspects in Lou’s disappearance. I think they’re trying to make some sort of point that they’re not the pussies we think they are. They’re all about to be a bunch of dead pussies. We’re all jonesing for a fight and instead of wiping the earth clean of them like we fucking should, we’re waiting. If we’re wrong, we’ll look weak, trigger happy, and unorganized, making us an easy target for other clubs, thinking they can wipe us out. We need proof; give them enough rope to hang themselves. “We need to go down ‘n remind ‘em they’re in Disciples territory,” Mossy says on the edge of his seat. Not sure what his old ass thinks he’s gonna do. He can barely walk up a flight of

stairs without needing to sit and have a smoke or a hit off his inhaler. Shaking his head, Dan says, “We watch ‘em and we wait. Might be here thinkin’ they can crash our party, or they might be here lookin’ to cause more trouble. For now, we wait. Let’s see what they’re up to.” “Yeah, I’ll be watchin’,” Mossy drawls, puffing on his cigar. I’m sure he will be. The run-down of our weekly business is laid out on the table; pickups, drop-offs, deals are delegated, grievances are aired, and messes are cleaned up before we’re dismissed with a flick of Dan’s hand. “Buck, got a second?” Dan hollers

when I’m about six feet from the door. Fuck, I was so close to freedom. I got a sec, just not for whatever he’s about to say. “Depends,” I say, lingering by the door. “Sit your ass down.” He points to the chair I just vacated. “Yeah, fine. What is it?”

I can hear Dan’s words, but they aren’t making much sense. I’m waiting for my brain to catch up or him to start speaking English again. I should’ve kept on walking. “Come again?” I sure the fuck wasn’t expecting this.

“Need you up in Washington to pick up a girl stayin’ with Sis and Tank.” He keeps saying it, but I’m just not grasping it. “You do, huh?” I mutter, leaning against the back of the seat. Running a hand through my hair, I feel the tension building in my head. I definitely wasn’t expecting this, nor is it something I want to be doing. “Yep.” “When?” “Now? Why the fuck do you want me to do it?” We’re a fucking chauffeuring service now? Isn’t this the sort of shit we got Neo for? “The girl needs a place to crash for a while and it’s your place she’ll be

crashin’ at. Tank asked me and now I’m tellin’ you. You can handle her.” I need to stop being such a nice guy. Apparently, it’s giving the club the impression I’m good with people and their sensitive ass situations. Do I look like a goddamn bed and breakfast? Digging his phone out of his pocket, he starts searching through it. “Got her picture here.” “You got her picture? Got her history too? Last meal, folks names?” Sliding his phone towards me, I catch it before it slides off onto the floor. Once I get a look at the picture lighting up the screen, I slide the phone back to him. No fucking way ... not happening. I

figure I’m pretty fucking tough, but not that tough. “Can’t do it,” I tell him, taking a long pull from my now lukewarm beer. She’s too goddamn hot. She’s too fucking much for me to have to deal with right now. That picture tells me all I need to know. There is no way in hell I can live with someone who looks like her. “You can,” he assures me. His confidence in me is concerning. I shouldn’t have to remind him of why this shit is a bad idea. “And she can’t stay here because...” “Seein’ as we’re ‘bout to have a full fuckin’ house here real soon, she either stays with you or the brothers do.

You want all the guys crashin’ at your place? It’s either her or them, take your pick.” He’s really not giving me a choice. Dan’s just humoring me for shits and giggles with his offer of a choice. I don’t have shit to say on the matter. Getting up, he walks around the table to my side. I know I don’t have a chance in hell of getting out of this. Clasping my shoulder he nods, satisfied with the knowledge of knowing I’ll do what he asks. “Thanks, brother.” “Yeah, sure.” Why the fuck does this shit always happen to me? I’m not the man for the job, but Dan’s hardheaded ass won’t listen. I’ve now been

downgraded to club manny. “Safe travels,” he says, smirking over his shoulder as he walks to the door. Yeah, he’s a real funny motherfucker, that one. “Sure, asshole.” Chucking my beer in the trash, I follow him out. Rock is standing outside, leaning against the wall. He too is looking at me with a smirk on his ugly mug. “The fuck you smiling about, dick face?” If he thinks this shit’s so funny, he can ride with me. “Let’s see how goddamn happy you are after the ride up.” “Oh no,” he says as that smile is wiped clean off his face. Poncho starts laughing too. Now I’m thinking two

escorts will be nice. “Oh yeah. Both of you funny fucks, grab your shit and let’s roll.”

1 - Roommates Buck The sun is dipping low over the Columbia, casting red and orange rays over the hills. It all looks magical as I ride down the windy highway. The vibrant yellow dashes on the road zip by in a blur and the light whistle of the wind whipping by is the only noise heard above the growl of my bike. My hands are used to the violent vibration of the engine and my body is conditioned for the long trip, but I could never get tired of this shit, even if I’m not lookin’ forward to the reason behind the trip. I make it across the bridge and cross into Washington.

Two more fuckin’ hours. Passing through small towns and farmlands, past rivers and lakes, I finally make it to my destination. Pulling down the dirt road that leads to the Washington Chapters clubhouse, I round the corner and find a body waiting for me. Wasn’t expecting the welcome wagon. Sitting on the cinderblock wall that surrounds the property is a pretty little thing, swinging her legs, waiting for me. Fuck. Diverting my eyes, I swing into the lot and pull up to the row of black hogs, all parked in a straight line out front of the building that houses the Disciples of Washington.

Flipping down the kickstand, I hop off and stretch. Lacing my fingers, I pop some blood back into them with each crack of my stiff knuckles. The white from my fingers start to fade and my skin starts to get its color back. The drive always starts out fun, but after about two hours, I start wishing I never started it. Freeway riding really isn’t my idea of a good time. The big bay doors slide open. “Brother,” Tank booms, walking out of the garage. He grabs my hand and wraps an arm around my back, giving it a solid slap in a loud welcome. “Buck,” Rampage nods, followed by Tags and Stitch. It’s always good to see these

assholes. “You’re gettin’ fat, my man,” I tell Tank in my own special greeting. That old lady of his is feeding the motherfucker way too fucking much. Glaring over his shoulder at the smiling Lil sitting at a picnic table, he tells her, “Told your ass my jeans were gettin’ tight, babe.” “Shut up, Tank,” Lil says, waving Tank off. “Hey Buck! Let me get her for you.” Lil grins like a fucking lunatic. What the fuck. I feel like I’m being set up or some shit with everyone smirking and grinning at me. “Babe, calm your ass down,” Tank yells after her, but she’s across the lot, ignoring him. Tank is a special kind of

stupid to be able to deal with that woman every damn day. Shaking his head, Tank turns back to me. “How was the ride, any problems?” “Nah, just long as fuck.” A little traffic and a bunch of stupid drivers really isn’t anything new. It’s all part of the territory. “Shoulda shipped her ass in box then?” He jokes. “You crashin’ here tonight?” If only. I’d kill for a drink, warm shower, and some hot pussy, but there won’t be any of that. Tonight I’m hauling my ass all the way back home. “I wish I was, brother, but I need to get back. I’ll need to be making the drive tonight.” Just thinking about it makes me

so fucking tired. “Fuck,” he mutters, shaking his head. Tank knows the drive. He’s done it before. It’s long, but it’s what I do; ride until the goddamn wheels fall off. “Got my babysitting papers and I’m here to collect, but I gotta ask, what’s the deal with the broad?” I get down to business. I wish I had the time to stand around and just bullshit. “Lil’s old friend from back in the day needs some place to chill out for a bit.” “You know why I’m watching her?” “Not a fuckin’ clue, but she’s your problem now,” he laughs. There’s nothing funny about that statement. For her sake, she better be on her best

behavior with me. “She been a problem?” That’s the last thing I need. I’m not a man for mouthy, bossy, mean as hell bitches. My tolerance for a woman’s bullshit is nonexistent these days. “Nah, she’s cool.” “You sure?” Rather know what I’ll be dealing with now before I make this fucking trip home with her ass. “Yeah, she hasn’t been a problem.” Thank fuck for that. Gravel crunches under someone’s feet behind me and I hear Lil laugh. Turning my head, I catch sight of the broad close up. I’m not looking at a photo and I’m not fifty feet away. No, this time it’s up close and fucking

personal. And she’s a goddamn pretty little thing with long, straight black hair. Big, dark eyes, a pert nose covered in freckles and a piercing, and full, red lips. She’s everything right about a woman and she’s standing in front of me, looking at me curiously, and it’s sexy as hell. She’s fucking beautiful, and I’m not immune to it. Shit. Shoving past me, Poncho gets up in her face, effectively cutting my ass out of the picture. “Hola, sexy,” he says as he sticks his hand out towards her. Apparently, no one is immune. She looks at Poncho like

he’s fucking high. I would’ve just walked off, but I really wanna see how this plays out. “What?” she asks, her voice is raspy and dark, sounding sexy as hell. She looks him up and down with an arched eyebrow. “Hablas español?” Poncho tries again. What the fuck is he doing? Since when does the fucking moron speak Spanish? “Umm...” She looks around for help. This poor girl is confused. If she wasn’t scared before, I’m sure she is now. “You ain’t Mexican?” Poncho’s the confused one now. She lifts her juicy lips into a little

smile. “Indian,” she corrects him, laughing softly to herself. “Like the kind with that shit on their foreheads?” Poncho asks, shoving a thumb into his forehead. You have got to be shitting me. Why the fuck did I bring him? “No, like the kind that’ll remove your dick with a tomahawk,” she tells him casually with a wink. Poncho’s frowning and rubbing at the back of his neck, confused as hell. I swear to fuck he was dropped on his big ass head as a baby. Looking at Lil, and back at Poncho, the broad throws her thumb towards him and whispers loudly, “Please tell me this isn’t Buck.” Luckily for her he isn’t.

“Idiot,” Lil chuckles, smacking Poncho’s back as she shoves him aside. I don’t know if I should be embarrassed that he’s with me, or if I should be happy that he made an ass of himself. At least the girls are enjoying this. “No, that man right there is Buck.” Lil nods towards me and I swear to Christ, time slows to a crawl. The broad is giving me her full attention now. Tilting her head to one side, she studies me, sizing me up, and she doesn’t even try to hide it. She takes her time looking me up and down, and nods once. “Cool.” Cool? Stepping up to me, she sticks out her hand out. Her elbow to wrist bracelets clank together―some metal,

some beaded. They’re a mess on her tan, tattooed skin. “I’m Lennon,” she says. I take her tiny hand in mine because I just don’t have it in me to be a complete fucking asshole to her ... not yet, anyways. “Buck. I’ll be your roomie,” I tell her. I don’t have the slightest idea what else to say, but she smiles, apparently satisfied with my response. “Roomie,” she confirms. This shit fucking sucks, but damn. At least she’s fine to look at.

I end up having a quick drink and get the rundown on what’s been going on around here. I make quick work of catching up

with some of the brothers and relax for a bit, but now it’s time to go. I’ve still got a lot of ground to cover to make it home. “Gotta get back on the road, boys. See ya in a couple weeks?” I ask Tank as we both stand. “Yeah, we’ll be there.” Good, we’ll have plenty of time to bullshit then. Lennon’s hanging close to Lil, looking a little unsure of me. I’m sure she’s scared shitless, being carted off by a stranger to a different state. Can’t blame her, but according to Tank, she wants to go somewhere and make a fresh start. I have no idea why, and neither does he, but it’s a favor for Lil. I can understand the feeling of wanting to start

over somewhere new, I suppose, so I may as well get this show on the road before she changes her mind and I get pissed for making a trip all the way here for nothing. “Come on, darlin’, gotta roll.” She turns to Lil and hugs her tight, like it’s the last time she’ll be seeing her. If she’s in need of a hug, I’m sure Poncho will be happy to accommodate her. They do that whispering shit; talking close, looking at me and whispering. It’s like that gossipy shit bitches like to do. They’re talking about me, but I’m too tired to fucking care. Letting her go, Lil looks at me and back to Lennon. “Don’t worry, honey. Buck’s a good guy most of the time.”

They hug again and I’ve run out of patience. “Stop fussin’ over her, Lil. She’ll be fine.” I wave Lennon on. She’ll see Sis here in a week or so. It’s not like I’m here to tear her away from her happy little family or some shit. This was her choice. “You’re gonna see Sis again soon,” I assure her. Lennon gives me her crazy eyes as she turns and marches off, clearly annoyed by my demand. I follow after her, down the back towards the room she’s been staying in. Don’t want her getting distracted. “Get your shit,” I tell her, nodding at the door she’s standing in front of, shifting around uneasily. What the fuck is

her problem? “You gotta pee, baby?” I tease her as she starts twitching the closer I get to her. Scrunching up her face, she growls at me ... growls. I almost fucking laugh at the cute little noise that comes out of her pretty little mouth. “Jesus, dick much?” She grumbles, rolling her eyes. “Best you learn that now. This dick wants you to hurry your sweet ass up,” I tell her, slapping her ass. My hand connects with plump skin and I fight the urge to squeeze it hard. Glancing over her shoulder, she cocks a daring brow at me and smirks. “You’re forward.” “You were taking to goddamn long,

darlin’.” She purses her lips and turns towards the door. Yeah, definitely not scared. Muttering something under hear breath that sounds like fucker, she disappears inside the room, slamming the door and locking it behind her. I’m not sure what the hell I’m supposed to do with this broad. Never been real good at the whole people thing. Most women hate me once they get to know me. My bitch of an ex hated me so much she would have gutted me if she’d had the chance. I tried, but I’m really not that guy. I’m not good at keeping bitches happy. Hell, that goes for most people in general.

Like most of the guys in the MC, we aren’t the people pleasing type. That’s why we’re here living like modern day outlaws; avoiding the masses, living our lives on the outskirts of normal life. We’re just not very good functioning at what’s considered ‘normal societies’ level. Lennon unlocks and pulls the door open, dropping her bags at my feet. She changed into some short fucking jean shorts. It’s hot, but it isn’t that fucking hot. If she wants to freeze to death on the back of my bike, then that’s her deal. “That it, darlin’?” “Surprised?” she asks. I sure the fuck am. I was expecting a wardrobe and the whole shebang. One medium-sized

duffle and a hatbox was not what I pictured myself lugging down the highway ... wait, a hat box ... really? “You like hats or something?” I ask, nudging the box with my foot. Lennon doesn’t strike me as a hat wearing kinda broad, but then again, what the fuck do I know about her? “What?” she snaps defensively, jerking the strap of her frilly purse back over her shoulder. “You wear hats?” I ask, kicking the box towards her. “No, but I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t kick my stuff.” “Yeah, no problem, just hand me the bag.” Picking it up, she shoves the fucker into my gut. Such a mean little

broad. I throw it over my shoulder and head in the direction of my bike. Once outside, I catch Lennon staring at it, a look of longing on her face. She likes the bike, which is no surprise. There’s something about the black shiny metal and big engine that gets the ladies all riled up and shit. “You good to ride?” “Umm...” She hesitates. Six seconds ago she was looking like she couldn’t wait to ride, but now she looks nervous. “You riding or not?” I snap. I’m not in the mood for this shit. I’m either riding home, with or without her, or I’m heading back into the clubhouse to get

wasted. “Do you?” She smarts back as she absentmindedly digs around in her bag, looking for God knows what. Well, I sure the hell didn’t run here. “Do I ride?” She closes her eyes when she realizes what she’s said. Taking a deep breath, she peeks up at me and laughs, saying more to herself than me, “Of course you ride, duh.” Fishing a tiny jacket out of her bag, she throws it on. It doesn’t cover much, but it might keep her from freezing to death when it gets dark. Next she starts fucking with her hair, putting it up in a ponytail, flipping it around and shit. I’m slowly running out of patience here and I’m drifting towards annoyed.

I’m not in the mood for her indecision or how she wants to wear her hair. “You ready or what?” Without waiting for her, I jump on the bike just as she grumbles “stupid asshole,” under her breath. I can attest to the asshole part, but not so much on the stupid. “Grab on to my—” “Don’t worry, I know,” She assures me. Placing her hands on my shoulders, she throws a leg over and settles in behind me. Clearly this isn’t her first ride. It takes her a few seconds of fidgeting and scooting around before she’s situated herself comfortably against me. “You gonna ride at night with those on?” she asks, tapping on my shoulder.

Her question catches me off guard. “You gonna sit still so I don’t dump us?” “Yeah.” “Then we’re good. You hold on and I’ll take good care of you.” “Pretty sure that’s not safe though, she says, like she’s got to have the last fucking word. She should shut the fuck up and let me do what I’ve been doing for years. I’m in no goddamn mood for lessons on safety from a woman about to room with a stranger. “Listen, you’re more than welcome to stay your ass right here, but if you wanna head up to the mountain, you should shut it and let me fucking worry about the drive. It’s your choice, but I’m

not gonna sit here and listen to you bitch and moan over every little thing, got it?” Her silence is all the answer I need. Yeah, that’s what I thought. “Now, shut up and hang on, baby.”

Lennon This isn’t how I want to be living my life, but that doesn’t matter. I run, then I run some more till I run from something bad to something worse. I go anywhere and everywhere with no real purpose or thought, but I always keep myself busy by running wild about it. Always on the move with no real direction I’m always busy running wild. As much as I hate it, I love it with the same intense passion. But that’s just me; mind always changing, just like my scenery. I live from moment to moment with no expectations. The thing about my life is it’s unstable and ever changing, but for what it lacks in consistency, it makes up

for in fun—unadulterated, careless fun. I had zero expectation when Lil told me they’d found me a chill place to lay low for a while. Oregon, a place I haven’t been to in years, is going to be my place of solace for a while, but I’m not complaining. Beggars can’t be choosers, right? The Hell’s Disciples didn’t have to help me out, but they did. They offered their help, and for that I will be forever grateful. So, when they told me I’d be staying in Oregon, I smiled and thanked them. Oregon will be my new home, at least for now. I don’t know anyone from the Oregon Chapter of the MC, but I don’t believe Lil would send me off

somewhere, or with someone, that was unsafe. Buck, my escort and roomie, is definitely not what I was expecting, except he’s exactly what I should’ve expected. He definitely looks the part and acts the part; tall, broad shouldered, grease stained jeans, tattoos. With his boots and cut to set the look off, he’s most certainly a biker through and through. He’s rude, crude, and bossy, but I’m used to that kind of man. This guy, Buck, isn’t handsome or sexy. He certainly isn’t ugly, but he’s not drool worthy either, yet he’s everything. I knew it the moment I watched him roll into the lot. He’s the bad boy in the back of class all the girls secretly swoon

over, but would never admit to liking. He’s that dirty, smart-mouthed, badass you’d secretly fuck for the weekend when your man was out of town. He’s a side-fuck—socially unacceptable and parentally hated—yet he’s everything right about the wrong side of the tracks. His hair is long on top and short on the sides. It screams “brush me” as it flops and sticks out to one side. It’s a mop of a mess with no style. A dark beard covers damn near half his face, and dark brows draw down in a permanent scowl, rounding out a perfectly pissed-off face. Buck is stuck somewhere between mad as fuck and permanently annoyed with a grumpy crease worried across his

forehead. His nose is crooked and his lips are barely noticeable under that beard, but I’m sure they’re pressed into a tight line. He doesn’t look nice or friendly. When I woke up this morning I definitely didn’t expect to be sitting on the back of a stranger’s bike—hands locked on to a solid torso and my chin resting on an unfamiliar shoulder— riding off into the sunset. But it is what it is. This isn’t my first stranger and it won’t be my last. New and different people come with the territory. I’m no stranger to strangers. I find comfort in others like myself. They understand me, they get the need to be free and to run, as far and as

fast as possible. Buck may be new, a stranger, but soon he’ll be a friend, and then he’ll be a memory—a time and a place in my life. And even though he may be new, I can feel it in my bones when I look at him; he’s just like me. So, I settle in and get comfortable with Buck because right now, he may be a stranger, but he’ll offer me a kindness like only strangers do; giving help to someone he doesn’t yet know. After all, that’s how friends are made, when two strangers meet. An hour has turned into two and I’ve molded myself onto Buck. I lay my head against his back and breathe him in, savoring the smell of this man. He

smells like clean laundry, fresh cut wood, grease, and just a touch of the sweet smell of liquor. It’s intoxicating. His tattoos run up both arms. One is completely sleeved, while the other runs from elbow to wrist. The work, done in black ink, is a jumbled mess of art and scribbled words, and it works for him. Messy, just like his appearance. I follow his giant arms up to where his big scarred hands clutch the ape hangers. Along one hand, he has the word fuck tattooed across his knuckles, and life across the others. Everything about Buck screams social pariah, and his knuckles say everything I need to know about the man; Buck doesn’t give a fuck.

“Comfortable, darlin’?” “Yes,” I yell back over the noise. Looping my fingers into the belt loops of his jeans, I hang on, letting my forearms rest on Bucks thick waist. I’m in it for the long haul, numb ass and all. We ride for a while, maybe another hour or two before we pull off onto a two-lane country highway. I’m lost in thought when a cold rough hand touches mine. Lifting my head, I see Buck’s head twisted to the side. “You good?” “Yeah, I’m good.” It’s late. The sky is black, hollow, and moody. The only light comes from the muted glow of the cloud covered moon as we ride into the soulless night. I

love it. The not knowing, the uncertainty of it grabs me, holding me hostage. Riding down the highway, I get caught up in the whip of the wind, the roar of the engine, the open road. I lose myself. It’s been a year, a long fucking time since I’ve ran. It feels good to be free and wild and on the open road. I let go, my arms in the air and my head thrown back. I can’t stop it. “Careful,” Buck warns. “Never!” I scream. I’m never careful. A life not lived is no life at all. “If I die tonight, I’d die happy.” And that’s exactly how I’d want to go out— the wind in my hair and my past at my back. “Faster,” I yell out into the night.

Nodding once, he smirks over his shoulder at me. “You got it, babe.”

We live in the mountains. I live in the mountains, alone, with my stranger. Buck lives in the middle of nowhere. And when I say middle of nowhere, I mean nowhere. It’s miles and miles up the side of a mountain into nothing but dark, dense forest. Other vehicles started to become sparse about an hour ago, and thirty minutes later they’ve all but disappeared. It’s just Buck and I out here in the middle of BFE, and it’s starting to feel a little serial killer-ish. This

wilderness is a perfect place to dump a body, but I’m just too goddamn happy to really care. It’s possibly a concern for another day. The bike slows when Buck pulls off the old highway and onto a dark, almost hidden, single-lane road. We travel for a while over loose gravel before the trees thin out and we come into a cleared lot. A few hundred feet more and a small log cabin pops up into view. “Honey, we’re home,” Buck jokes, coming to a rolling stop in front of an old wooden deck. “Hop on off, sweet cheeks.” I don’t want to. I want to ride until I’m a million miles away. “Such a gentleman,” I laugh as I get

off the bike. Apparently my roomie is a comedian. I’m a little sore from the long ride, so I stand on my tiptoes and stretch. I look around and catch Buck watching me over his shoulder, so I smile. “I thought so,” Buck says, getting off the bike himself. I hadn’t noticed before now, just how fucking big he really is. Standing next to him I feel small. This guy is a beast of a man. Scooping up my bag and box, he throws them over his shoulder and walks off, leaving me standing here. His big intimidating body walks purposefully off, his stride wide and cocky. “Come on, Tonto,” he yells over his shoulder. “Unless you’d rather sleep outside.” Oh, I get it. Tonto, because I’m

Indian. Yep, a comedian. “Yeah, you’re damn funny,” I tell him. Following after him, I try to keep up, but he’s fast. “Slow down, Sasquatch.” He stops dead in his tracks and turns to me. Oh shit. “This living together is gonna be fun, isn’t it?” he mutters, looking me up and down, shaking his head back and forth. I’m not sure if that was a joke or a statement. Shrugging, I settle on, “Yep, a fucking blast.” This will be great, I’m sure of it. It’s just a feeling I have, deep in my gut.

It’s odd sleeping in someone else’s bed;

different sheets, a comfortable mattress, new pillows under my head. Staring at nothing, up at an unfamiliar ceiling, I listen to the distant noises coming from the woods surrounding us. What’s not odd is sleeping somewhere different. That’s my normal. It’s been years since I’ve slept in my house. I remember the comfort, the familiarity of my sheets and my lumpy pillow. It’s something I don’t have anymore, but at least Buck’s bed is big and comfortable. Buck welcomed me inside his place with a sweep of his hand and a grunt. “This is it.” And it’s a nice place. A little messy with a few empties on the coffee table, dirty dishes in the sink,

clean clothes piled on a chair, and an empty pizza box on the table, but it’s not gross, it’s lived in. It’s cozy and it’s home ... for now. Opening the old pine wooden door, the living room is the first thing you see. A large river rock fireplace sits between two floor-to-ceiling windows in desperate need of a cleaning. The living room is outfitted with a worn, creased and cracked leather couch, a plaid recliner, and a ring stained, dented wood coffee table. There are no decorations or personal effects, just a practical space with the basics. A dated, country style kitchen with a small breakfast nook is off the living room. The appliances are old, but

functional, assuming the food-crusted pot is from recently cooking. It’s nothing special, but it’s a place to lay my head at night. There is one bedroom and one bathroom down a small hall at the back of the house. A mud room / laundry room has a door that leads out into the overly green wilderness. One bedroom means we’re sharing or taking turns, or whatever Buck has planned. I’m in no position to argue with the sleeping arrangements. I’ll sleep wherever he wants to put me. I’m not picky. Buck offered me the bed and I didn’t argue. I crawled in and got comfortable. This was going to be my

life, my normal, for now.

I wake with a start the next morning, my mind fogged over from sleep and my eyes blurry. Instantly I sit up, wondering where the fuck I am until my mind settles. I’m in Oregon, in the middle of nowhere, up on a mountain with my stranger. Kicking the mismatched mess of sheets and blankets off me, I plant my feet on the cold hardwood floor. It’s cooler this morning, thank God. Dropping to my knees, I lift the blankets that have fallen off, place them back on the bed, and peek under the bed. I sigh in relief when I see my shit there. I

feel neurotic, always checking, but it is what it is. I’m too hungry to ponder my medical misgivings. Opening the bedroom door, I take a tentative step into the hall. Not real sure what I’m nervous about. I guess in the light of day, this all seems a little different. Walking into the living room, I see it’s empty. The same goes for the kitchen. A deserted blanket and pillow on the couch are the only indication that Buck was here at all. Well what to do now? I’m hungry, but helping myself seems kind of rude, so in search of Buck I must go. Standing on the old porch, I survey the property in the daylight. Miles of

dense green surrounds the small house. It’s beautiful up here, so green and fresh. Nothing but wild, untamed wilderness. I wonder where the hell Buck could’ve run off to. A minute later, a loud whack comes from a giant shop off in the distance and I know that’s where I’ll find him. It’s a dilapidated metalsided shop, and I use the word shop loosely. Padding through the dewy yard and down a dirt path, I wander up to the rusted sliding doors and peek inside. Sure enough, Buck is in there with an axe in his big hands. He brings it up and over his shoulder, each muscle and tendon stretching and straining when he brings it back down into a big round

piece of wood at his feet. The metal head meets the wood with a sharp whack, making me flinch. The wood cracks, but doesn’t split. Bringing it back up, Buck swings again, hitting the first spot perfectly. The wood splinters and cracks down the middle, falling to the ground around the big stump. Swallowing hard, I stare even harder. Jesus, he’s even more of what I consider as everything in the light of day. He’s wearing a greasy stained pair of coveralls, folded over at the waist and nothing else. He’s a fucking sight. He’s dirty, sweaty, and so fucking sexy, it’s disturbing. I also notice that he’s missing those glasses. I have got to get a better look.

Taking a few cautious steps into the shop, I stop, just inside the door. I have no clue what I’m doing, and I’m even more clueless about what to say. Hi? Good morning? How’d you sleep? I only make it a few feet before his head snaps up and his eyes hone in on me. He doesn’t look happy to see me, but then again, he doesn’t look mad about it either, just neutral. His mood is forgotten the moment our eyes connect. I notice it right away. How could I not? We’re only feet apart now, it’d be hard to miss. His eyes. Sucking in a breath, I stare, and I stare hard. Those eyes, his eyes, are like no eyes I’ve ever seen. One is blue, bright and clear, and

the other is black. There is no iris, no pupil. “Whoa,” I sputter. The glasses, I get it now. He realizes what I’m looking at. “Shit,” he mutters under his breath, scrubbing at his beard uncomfortably. He goes to reach for his glasses, but I stop him. “No ... don’t.” He shouldn’t feel like he has to wear them because I’m here. “Shit doesn’t freak you out?” He motions to his face with a look of concern. His question catches me off guard. Why would it? “No, why would it?” They’re different, but they’re not scary. Shifting on his feet, he fidgets and it

clicks. He’s uncomfortable with how his eyes look. That’s why he wears those glasses, even at night. “I’ve never seen eyes like yours,” I tell him honestly. He won’t look at me now. He stares down at his boots, at his hands, over at his bike, anything to keep his eyes averted from mine. “Figured as much. Not a normal thing.” He makes it sound like he has a second pair on the back of his head. “It’s cool.” I assure him. “Yeah?” He sounds like he doesn’t believe me. “Were you born that way?” Shaking his head, he grabs for a beer on the pile of wood next to him.

“Nope.” He doesn’t elaborate. “What happened?” Is it rude to ask? Possibly, but I have to know. “Got in a fight. Fight led to me getting my face hit in with a brick. The brick busted the bone in my eye, and the bone fucked up my eye.” “Jesus.” “Yeah. Can’t see well out of it, but it still works. I wear the glasses because the light makes it worse.” “Oh.” What do you say to that ... I’m sorry? How terrible? Did you kill the person who did that to you? “Doesn’t scare you, bother you, looking at it?” His eye bothers people? It’s an eye for fuck’s sake. What the hell is there to be scared about?

“No.” Nodding his head slowly, he processes my words for a moment. “Good. Glad, darlin’.”

2 - Crazy Eyes Buck Fuck, she’s staring hard, gaping at my screwy eye like she hasn’t ever seen anything like it. If she weren’t smiling at me, it might be more painful than it already is. The goddamn glasses slipped my mind. I’ve been in the habit of wearing them out and about because the bitches used to tell me my eyes were scary, but at home I didn’t bother. Out here working, alone, I forgot about my little houseguest. I’m not used to having to hide that shit around here anymore. Now she’s staring right at my eyes, all interested and shit. “Does it hurt?” She asks.

“No, it doesn’t. You sleep good?” I change the subject, anything to get her to stop staring at my eyes. “Oh yeah, I did.” She murmurs, kicking around a bare foot in the dirt. Does she always dress like this, I wonder. I look from her foot and up at her legs while she stands there, fucking gawking at me. “No pants, huh?” I nod to her legs. I’m not complaining, just observing. Naked works best for me, but her choice is fine too. Rolling her eyes, she grins, “I was sleeping.” “If you say so, babe.” “I was,” she grumbles, crossing her arms under her tits, perking ‘em up even

more. A weird quiet falls between us and I can’t stand this shit. This is why I hate dealing with people, bitches in particular. My form of conversing with the female population usually goes something like, “Take off your clothes.” You know, that real suave shit. Everyone else gets the basics. Don’t know what the hell to say to people, so I just don’t say anything, which usually makes them uncomfortable as fuck when I just stare at ‘em. Taking a couple of steps back, away from me, Lennon asks in an unsure voice, “You mind if I make breakfast?” “Nah, I don’t mind.” I’m not about to deny her food. I’m not that goddamn

mean, but I might make her work for it later. “Anything off limits?” she asks quietly. What kind of question is that? Food is food. I’m not gonna label it mine or hers. “Darlin’, help yourself to whatever.” “Okay, thanks.” She turns around and walks back out the door. “See you in a bit, then.” She says, smiling brightly at me before disappearing through the door, and that smiles hits me straight in the chest.

I crashed on the couch last night. Not my ideal form of luxury living, but I couldn’t

force myself to be a complete dick and make her sleep in the living room. So, I tossed and turned on the couch all night, and I’m paying for it now. My back hurts and my neck is stiff, but nothing a little alcohol can’t fix. I woke up this morning and I didn’t exactly know what to do. I didn’t want to wake the sleeping woman in my bed, so I’ve been chopping wood all morning; killing time and waiting for Lennon to wake up. Now she’s up and I still don’t have a fuck of a clue what to do with her. This shit is gonna be harder than I thought. Do I have to entertain her? Spend time with her? Fuck, I hope she can take care of her damn self.

“Buck?” Lennon’s hollering like a banshee startles me and I damn near chop a toe off. Been a few years since I’ve had someone shouting for me from that porch. Sticking my head out of the shop, I holler back, “Yeah?” The bright sun instantly irritates my eyes. Shit, it’s bright as hell out here. Slipping my glasses back on, I walk into the yard, waiting for a response. I watch as she stands there on the porch, braiding her hair, fingers twisting around in that mess of dark hair as she stares off into the woods. She’s wearing a thin, long black dress that dips low between her huge ass tits. I try not to stare, but she put ‘em out there. “Yo, Lennon,” I address her as I

walk up the stairs towards her. “What?” she asks, turning her attention to me. What? She’s the one shrieking from the porch. “What do ya mean ‘what’? You just yelled for me.” “Oh, right ... sorry. Foods done if you’re hungry.” Lennon doesn’t make a move towards the house. She continues to stand on the porch, looking out into the trees. “You okay?” Shaking her head, she chews on her lip for a second before asking, “Are these woods safe?” “Yeah, babe, they’re safe.” “Okay.”

Turning on her heels, she walks back into the house. “Well, come on, breakfast is getting cold.” In the house, she seems comfortable enough. There’s a mess in the kitchen to attest to it, but it’s a good mess. It’s the kind that says someone lives here, not the kind of mess I leave that says I’m a fucking pig. “Buck.” “What?” Lennon’s back to watching me again. Something about her stare fucking throws me for a loop. Not used to so much interest. “Why’d you put your sunglasses back on?” “Habit.” “Take them off. I like you better

without them,” she says absentmindedly, so I take the glasses off. “So you cooked?” “Yep,” she responds proudly. The house smells like syrup and fried meat, like breakfast. Washing my hands, I look over at the table and see a bottle filled with wild flowers sitting in the middle, looking completely out of place. “Where’d those come from?” “The yard. Picked them on the way back in earlier.” It’s strange as shit to see flowers in my house, but nice at the same time. “Nice vase.” It’s a Corona bottle, one I drank from a few nights ago. Very fucking creative.

“It was all I could find,” she says, wrinkling up her nose at it. “Here, I made waffles, eggs, and bacon. I’ve already made you a plate.” Lennon shoves a plate full of food at me before I can say anything else. “Thanks.” Lifting a shoulder, her lips tip with a barely noticeable smile. Turning away, she busies herself with her food. “Sure.” Taking my plate to the table, I bring it up to my face and sniff it. The broad could’ve slipped something in this shit for all I know. It looks good, but that doesn’t mean it won’t kill me. Antifreeze doesn’t have a smell to it. “I didn’t poison it,” Lennon laughs,

looking over her shoulder. There’s nothing funny about it. I wonder how likely it is that she’s trying to kill me. She expects me to take her word for it, huh? I don’t even know the broad. “You sure?” “No, I’m not. You’re just going to have to eat it and find out, aren’t you?” I’m still not sure if I trust her. I wake up every day assuming someone I meet might try and kill me, and today, Lennon is that someone. Rolling her eyes, she marches up to me and snatches the waffle off my plate. Syrup drips off the waffle and runs down her wrist. Swallowing roughly, I watch the drips slide down her smooth arm. Christ, I need something to drink.

Bringing the waffle to her mouth, she licks her lips and smirks, then she takes a hardy, violent bite. Chewing it slowly, she swallows, runs a finger under her lip and smiles. “Now, try your eggs,” she encourages me sweetly. Flopping the waffle back on my plate, she walks back to the stove. That doesn’t make me feel any fucking better because now I’m hard as fuck and still suspicious as hell. Taking my plate with me, I sit at the tiny ass kitchen table while watching Lennon putter around. She stirs something in a pan and puts something on a plate. Here I’ve got this broad living with me, and I don’t know a goddamn thing about her. Figure I might

want to start asking some questions. “Lennon, sit your ass down ‘n eat.” She’s making me nervous. Looking over her shoulder, she purses her lips, clearly not feeling my command. “Please,” I add, just to get her to sit the hell down. She does. She sits down across from me and pulls her legs up, folding them under her ass. Once she’s finally comfortable, she digs in. Jesus, she’s hungry. “So.” “So,” she fires back, taking a bite of scrambled eggs. “Is Lennon your real name?” I ask. It sounds made up. Her fork stops an inch from her lips with egg hanging from the fork. Cocking her head, she starts that

staring shit again as she sets her fork down. “You don’t believe me?” I’m not sure if she sounds hurt or amused. It’s not that I don’t believe her ... okay, so that’s a fucking lie. I don’t believe her. “Didn’t say that.” “Jesus!” Chair legs scrape against the floor. Lennon is up out of her seat, walking out of the room and disappearing down the hall. Well, not even twenty-four hours in and I’ve already managed to piss her off. I eat my breakfast alone and in silence for all of four minutes before she’s back with fire in her eyes. Stomping back into the kitchen, she tosses a little piece of plastic onto the

table, although I think she was aiming for my head. “So what’s my name?” she scoffs, nodding down at the license in my hand. “Don’t trust anyone,” I tell her, looking over the little piece of plastic. It’s the truth. I only trust a handful of people, and Lennon’s not one of them. “You don’t say.” She jerks the license back from me before I can read the whole thing. What I was able to see was that her name is Lennon and her face is on the license, but that’s it. Plopping back down with a huff, she goes back to eating, ignoring me. We eat and neither of us has shit to say after the name game. Breakfast is damn good, but so goddamn

uncomfortable. Women are a delicate bunch, and I just don’t have the touch because the second Lennon’s food is gone, so is she. I cleaned up the kitchen. Been a while since I’d washed a dish. She’s been doing God knows what in the bathroom for the last hour or so. I gave up on getting in there and threw on a pair of jeans, a clean T-shirt, boots, and my cut. “I’m outta here,” I say through the bathroom door, but I get nothing in response. I take it as my cue that she could care less. Good, I’ve got work to do. She’s a big girl. I’m sure she can fend for herself.

It’s Friday so we had church. I drank two beers, talked with Dan and Big Ben, and now I’m out back, getting some work done. A few years ago I worked twelvehour days, seven days a week—putting in time, building a clientele, making a name for myself. I worked on everything from lawn mowers, bikes, cars, and boat motors. I spent a long damn time working way too fucking hard to have a good business. I built my business up and now I only take on projects worth my time, things that interest me. I call myself a mechanic most of the time, but

sometimes, I swear to fuck, I’m a damn engineer with the broken down pieces of shit some of these clients bring me. I work my magic, charge the big bucks, and work a few hours a day a couple days a week. It’s a good fucking life. Knuckles deep in a cherry Twin Cam, I feel someone walk up behind me and linger. Tightening a bolt, I pull myself away and look over at Poncho who’s hanging back, rocking on his heels, looking like he’s got something to say. “Yeah?” What the fuck does this asshole want? “How’s it goin’?” he asks, smiling. “It’s goin’. What the fuck you doin’, man?” I ask him, scratching at my beard,

trying to think of a reason he’d be over here bothering me. Is he hard up for some cash? “Lennon, huh?” He hints. Fuck. I should’ve known it was only a matter of time before someone asked. Figured I’d get at least a few days before the questions started. “Lennon, what? You got something to say or ask, get on with it.” I don’t have time for games with this dipshit. “You smash it yet?” He wiggles his eyebrows at me and everyone in the shop erupts into laughter. Here we go. Leaning back against the toolbox, I wait for his smartass comments. Standing in the shop down at the bar, I look at him, wondering if I heard him

right. Smash that? What, are we in high school? It’s been one fucking night. Was I supposed to jump on the broad the second she was inside my house? “Nope.” Is all I give him. The motherfucker is digging for dirt, but he’s about to find himself with a face full of fist if he doesn’t mind his own goddamn business. “What do you mean, nope?” Tyler hollers over at me, pulling his head out from under a hood. “You got pussy in your bed ‘n you’re tellin’ me you ain’t even sampled it?” Rock adds. Fuck, I’m not an animal. I can control myself around women. “Shouldn’t you be at work?” I ask Rock.

“No.” “So you sample it, puss bag?” “Sample it?” I never noticed how fucking stupid these assholes sound sometimes until they start pointing there stupid in my direction. “Ya know, dabble ‘n shit.” No, I don’t know and I’m not trying to find out. I fuck, plain and simple. No frills, no fuss, and no muss. I don’t fucking ‘dabble.’ “Shut the fuck up.” Mossy, Tyler, Rock, and Poncho start laughing and carrying on about dabbling in pussy; who does what, and how good they do it. They’re all full of shit. If they spent half as much time working as they do yapping about pussy,

we’d get a lot more shit done. “I’ll dabble it for ya,” Mossy offers, cupping his cock. Nasty fucker. I’ve got to get the fuck out of here and away from all this stupid. “The fuck you will.” Lennon is not here for the picking. She’s not free game, and she isn’t hopping from bed to bed. These motherfuckers can find what they want somewhere else. “Oh, someone’s a little sensitive about the bitch,” Tyler laughs. Picking up a wrench, I hurl it at him in hopes of knocking him upside his head. Ducking the wrench, he flips me the bird and keeps laughing. “You got a crush, my man,” Rock adds, sitting down on a stool five feet in

front of me. I’ve known her less than twentyfour hours. I can’t form an opinion on a broad I hardly know. Lennon is hot as fuck, but that’s all I know. “The only thing I’ll be crushing is your face if you don’t shut the fuck up and get back to work.” The four of them laugh again and I leave. I’m not dealing with this for the rest of the day. I can think of a few things I’d rather be doing, and this isn’t one of them. “I’m out, motherfuckers. Have fun dabblin’ with each other.”

Lennon Walking out of the bathroom this morning, I found the house empty. Buck took off, leaving me alone up here in the middle of nowhere. Buck’s TV has a set of bunny ears on top of it. He gets, like, six channels, and there isn’t a computer in sight. Not that I’m really bothered by the lack of technology. I’m pretty goddamn good at entertaining myself. I wandered the house for about thirty minutes before I realized Buck has to have the most boring house on Earth. I guess I have to go outside to entertain myself. I walk Buck’s property, or at least part of it, until I find a spot I like. I’m not sure how much land he has, but the

rolling hills and green trees go on for miles in each direction. At the far end of the property, a ways away from the house near a river, I find what looks like a foundation and the start of a house. A concrete slab, some framed walls, a staircase to nowhere, and a few big piles of lumber, covered in tarps, sit in the middle of a bunch of overgrown grass. I’m not sure if it belongs to Buck, but it’s a wonderful piece of property with an incredible view of a valley and a mountain range off in the distance. I sure hope someday someone uses it. It would be a heartbreaking waste not to. I keep going, wandering even farther until I find a small creek and a

grassy clearing to call home for a few hours. Breathing in deeply, I fill my lungs with fresh air, and it’s heavenly. Falling back onto my back, I stare up at the blue sky above. It’s been years since I’ve taken a moment to enjoy the outdoors, something I love dearly. Buck’s place really is paradise. Miles and miles of uninterrupted wilderness, and green as far as the eye can see. My skin is warm from the sun and my toes sink into the soft, thick grass as I lay back and soak it all in. I stare into the crystal clear water of the river that cuts through Bucks backyard. I watch the sun dance off of the soft waves and the small fish dart

around in the surf. Heaven. There’s no other way to describe it. Getting back up, I walk down to the water and dip my toes into the cool waves and pick some flowers along the shoreline. I debate if I should wade into the water when a crash and a crack jar me back to Earth. Jumping up, I spin around to see a mess of brown fur, flying towards me out of some bushes. Instantly my heart takes off in my chest. Throwing my hands in front of my face, I brace for the pain. I’m about to be eaten by a fucking bear. Of course, this would be my fuckin’ luck. “Shit!” I stumble back a step, only to see a giant hound come to a skidding stop

directly in front of me. His tongue’s hanging from his big mouth, tail going a mile a minute, and it’s floppy ears droop down to his shoulders. He’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen with those big, puppy dog eyes. “Oh ... hey boy.” The moment I speak, the beast starts to dance around, shuffling his fury ass from side to side, while his tail beats the ground wildly. “Where the hell did you come from?” I ask, like he can understand me. Has he been here this whole time? He’s fucking adorable with his scruffy tan and black fur. The biggest ears known to man and the droopiest face I’ve ever seen on a dog. Reaching a hand out, I pat his big

pointy head. With a slap of his tongue, my hand is covered in slobber and I couldn’t be happier. Looks like I have a friend out here after all. “Come on, buddy, let’s go sunbathe.” Right on my heels, the giant beast follows me and makes himself right at home, next to me on the grass. Stretching out, he yawns before laying his head onto his monstrous paws. “I think you and me are gonna be good friends,” I tell him around my own yawn. I let my eyes close and fall into dreamland.

“What the fuck are you doing?” A voice demands. A dark shadow falls over my

face, blocking out my rays of sunshine. “Lennon?” Cracking an eye open, I stare up and Buck, who’s staring down at me. His sunglasses are firmly in place and his eyebrows are sternly drawn down. He looks confused. “Relaxing,” I tell him, shifting onto my elbows. What does it look like I’m doing, ice skating? “Why?” Ugh, is he joking? It’s a beautiful day, the sun’s out, and ther’s a cool breeze. I can’t imagine being anywhere else right now. “Because it’s nice out here, that’s why.” He seems baffled by the idea. All this space and he doesn’t enjoy it? “Join me?” I ask him, patting the

ground next to me. If he’s going to hover, he might as well sit and take a load off. “Yeah, okay.” Well, that was easier than I thought it would be. Reaching behind his back, he pulls out a gun from his waist and flops it on the grass by my head, like it’s nothing. I stare cautiously at it, and at him. “Um ...” I’m not scared of guns, but I’m also not an enthusiast either. “Just trying to get comfortable,” he explains. “Putting it by my face though?” I mean, he could have set it anywhere else. “Just a gun, so relax,” he chuckles, but he scoots it over, away from me. “Wouldn’t shoot ya with it. Not today,

anyways.” I’m glad he thinks he’s funny. “That’s so nice of you,” I reply sarcastically. I’m not pro-gun and I’m not anti-gun. I’m pretty neutral, as long as the owner is safe about it and it’s not being pointed at me. Scooting up onto my ass, I cross my legs and get comfortable, leaning my back into Buck’s sturdy shoulder. Buck’s sitting next to me, booted feet flat on the ground, tattooed arms resting on his propped up knees. Staring ahead, he watches the water with me. It’s nice. “Buck?” “Yeah?” “Take your glasses off.” I like it so much better when I can see his face and eyes. “I like you better without them.”

For a moment he looks at me. I can see him mulling my request over, but after a beat, he removes them. “I can do that.” We watch the water ripple and flow. The fish swim and the birds soar. Buck lets me lean on him, holding my weight. “So, you have a dog?” Looking from me to the lazy beast next to me, he nods. “Looks like it, don’t it.” “Fucking smartass,” I laugh. “What’s his name?” Patting the dog on his head, he shrugs and says, “Bill.” Bill? What kind of stupid name is that for a dog? “Bill?”

“Yep.” Reaching out, he snatches my little craft right out of my hands. “What the fuck’s this?” He’s manhandling the delicate little headband I had made earlier. Well, there go the little yellow buttercups. Squeezing a little yellow flower between his thumb and finger, he flattens it. “It was a headband,” I say to him sadly. I carefully take the crumpled mess of flowers from him. Jesus, his big hands just annihilated the poor delicate flowers. Looking them over, I surmise they’re unsalvageable. “A headband?” “Yeah, you know, a thing that goes around your head.”

“That shit ain’t going on my head.” The image of a knitted ring of flowers on Buck’s head is something I’d pay good money to see. “What do you mean? You won’t wear it?” I ask him sarcastically, pouting my lips. “Fuck no.” “Relax, it wasn’t for you.” Is he serious? Did he honestly think I’d make such a thing for him? We sit in silence. After a while, Buck gets up, sticking the gun back in the waist of his jeans. “Up. Making dinner.” He holds out a hand to me. Yeah, I could eat. Taking his hand, he pulls me up to my feet. I land with a little bounce. His hand is rough and callused, and he holds

onto it for a few seconds, staring at me before he decides to let go. He turns and starts to walk off. Without stopping, he lets out an earpiercing whistle. “Let’s go, Bill!” Slapping his thigh, the dog leaps up and runs up behind Buck, dancing around his heels. Trailing behind Buck, I holler after him. “Why do you just let Bill roam the woods?” That can’t be safe out here with wild animals and shit. He might get eaten. He turns his head back and looks at me like I’m crazy for asking. “Darlin’, he’s a hunting dog.” That means absolutely nothing to me. “So?”

“So, he’s a tough little fucker,” he replies, running a hand down the dogs back. Looking down at Bill, I smile. He’s not a fucker, he’s a sweet beast. “Just like his master?” I muse more to myself than to Buck, but of course he hears me. Smiling back at me, he lifts a brow. He fucking smiled. Good lord, what a smile it is. “Exactly, darlin’.”

Sitting on the deck railing with Bill under my swinging feet, I watch Buck work. His back is to me. He’s got a beer in one hand and a spatula in the other as he mans the grill and bullshits with his guys.

Buck’s not talking to me. He’s not even looking at me. I might as well be invisible. But really, it’s okay because I can stare at him without being interrupted or caught. Buck is a man’s man. You can tell in the way he holds himself; back straight, head held high, and a face full of ‘I don’t give a fuck.’ You might mess with Buck, but then again, you might end up dead. He looks fine as hell in his black Tshirt, faded Carhartts, and a black backwards cap. He even has his glasses off. It’s that something more he seems to exude, and he doesn’t even know it. In the short time I’ve been here with him, I’ve learned that he says

exactly what he’s thinking, when he thinks it, and he has no filter. I like that about him. “Cheese, babe?” A nudge to my leg brings me back to the porch. Pulling my eyes up to Buck’s, I smile when I catch him staring intently at me. I can see him fighting the urge to put his glasses back on. I hate that his eyes bother him enough to make him think about it. “Lennon?” “What?” I ask, looking up into those crazy, beautiful eyes of his. “Cheese. That square, fake yellow shit you put on your burger. You eat it?” Right, he was asking me if I wanted cheese. “No, thank you.” I’m not a huge fan of it.

“Here ya go then.” Loaded plate in hand, I sit myself on the steps of the deck. Buck, Rock, and Poncho sit around an old wooden spool eating, drinking, and talking about bikes. I don’t even attempt to sit with them. I don’t have shit to add to the conversation, so I figure I’ll eat down here with Bill. I pick at my food and stare into the woods. I get lost in thought about life and what I plan on doing with mine, which isn’t much. If I’m being honest with myself, I’ve never been able to get it together. I’m a drifter, despite my best efforts at holding down a job and keeping a home. I’ve tried, but apparently I’m not good enough because

my whole life has been reduced to a duffle bag, hat box, purse, and two boxes stored in a closet far away, a place I haven’t been to in years. It’s not that I’m too good or above a “normal” life, I’m just not good at it. Jobs last a month or two at best, and staying in one place for too long has never been my strong suit. Just the word “normal” has never really appealed to me, even though I’ve tried like hell to accept it and live it. I’m not sure I will ever be that person because I’m not happy unless I’m free. I just want to see where life takes me. I’ve only got one, right? Someday I’ll die, but at least I can say I tried, yet being free to live my life the way I wanted to will help me go with

a smile on my face. No regrets. Scooping up my burger, I take a hardy bite before it gets cold. I can’t help but smile to myself—Buck can cook. I hear someone walk up behind me. Tipping my head back, there’s Buck standing over me. “Hey,” I mumble around a mouth full of food, chewing slowly, trying not to choke. I eye him, wondering what could be urgent enough to pull him away from his people. “Going for a ride, you down?” “You want me to come?” He’s hot. He’s cold. One minute it’s blank stares and one word responses, the next it’s half smiles and an invitation. Buck doesn’t give me a chance to answer.

Holding out a hand, he jerks his chin up and says, “Up. Let’s ride. You can eat later.”

3 - Outdoorsy Buck I watched Lennon sit there, alone, looking lost in her head, so I figured I’d take her for a ride to entertain her, give her some company. I’m not sure why I asked, but I’m not going to analyze it to death. It is what it is, and I’m just going with it. I’m not very good at making bitches happy, and my ex is clearly a prime fucking example, but riding seemed to make her happy so I thought I’d give it a go. I threw her on the back, rode down the mountain, and headed down the highway towards the river. It’s the perfect night for a ride.

“Hold these.” Lennon thrusts her chucks at me before walking off down the dirt path as fast has her tiny feet can carry her. “You know where you’re going?” I ask, following behind her. “Nope.” She responds, hopping over a fallen log. “Babe, you’re gonna fall ‘n bust your ass.” She’s gotta be shitting me right now. Barefoot, she’s about to scale giant ass rocks and old logs to get down to the river. I swear to fuck if she falls, I’m leaving her here. “Relax,” She laughs, leaping onto a rock like a fucking fairy. Easy for her to say, she’s not watching someone climb water-soaked logs and mossy boulders

like a goddamn trapeze artist. I can already see it. She’s gonna slip and crack her goddamn head open, and I’m going to have to take a bleeding Lennon to the hospital. “Just watch it. Don’t need ya dying on me.” That’d ruin my night. “Yeah, yeah.” She waves me off with another laugh. Glad she finds my concern funny. I brought her to the river access, a mile off the highway where the Columbia River dips in towards the mountains and slows a bit. It’s fucking beautiful here. Thought she’d get a kick out of it considering she seems to enjoy being outside. She’s smiling, so I guess I did something right.

I watch her walk around, picking up rocks and walking in the water. “This is the Columbia River, right?” “Yeah.” “It’s beautiful here,” she says, her long hair hanging in her face. She flips it over her shoulder and looks at me with a heartbreaking smile on her face. “Thank you for bringing me here.” “Sure.” Lennon acts like she doesn’t have a single care in the world. No selfpreservation, that’s for damn sure. Lennon seems easy going, down for whatever. I like that about her. Sitting on a picnic table, I watch her wander. “Be fuckin’ careful,” I tell

her when she wobbles on top of a rock. I’m up and off the picnic table in a goddamn heartbeat. “Jesus, Lennon.” She shakes her head at me and rolls her big browns at me. I’m glad she’s enjoying this. “Relax,” she says. I don’t relax, ever. “You fuckin’ relax.” “Not a problem. I’m cool.” She stops and sits on top of a boulder half sunk into the river. Dusk is setting in over the Columbia. The air is cooling down and the clouds are rolling in. The surf is calm and the sun is falling behind the waves. It’s almost as beautiful as the girl I’m with.

We sit for a while until she’s back at it, wandering the banks of the river. Lennon shares some things with me as I follow behind her, talking about this and that, telling me stories about shit I’d usually ignore coming from any other woman’s mouth. I like listening to her. There’s something about her, and I find myself enjoying it, rather than feeling irritated. I don’t care to listen to bitches prattle on about shit, but for her, I’m making an exception. She’s wanders up and down the shore for about an hour, collecting all kinds of shit in her little hands, smiling as she goes. She’s happy, and I’ll be damned it that doesn’t makes me happy. Not sure why that is, but there’s

something peaceful and calming about her. She’s something special. All that long black hair blowing around a pretty, smiling face, the look in her dark eyes. It’s like this is the happiest she’s ever been, and it’s addictive. Sitting back on the picnic table, boots on the bench and my back to the highway, I can take some time to appreciate the situation for what it is. Lennon is here and I’m actually good with it. I get up and walk over to her. “It’s getting late, darlin’.” Nodding, she reaches for my outstretched hand and I pull her up the little hill to help her along.

“Buck?” “Yeah?” “Can we come back here soon?” “Yeah.” I’ll come back here anytime, as long as it’s with her.

Lying on what I used to consider a pretty comfortable couch, I stretch out and hit my fucking head on the armrest. I’m way too goddamn big for this lumpy ass couch to consider it my permanent sleeping spot. My head’s crammed into the corner and my legs hang over the other arm of the couch. I can’t get comfortable for shit. I hadn’t realized I liked my bed so fucking much until I was exiled to the

couch. The loose floorboard in the hall whines. Lennon. Shifting onto my side, I crane my neck to see her. I stare down the dark hallway, waiting for her to walk out. A moment later, a half-naked Lennon comes tiptoeing into the living room. She’s creepin’. Wearing nothing but a big old T-shirt, she’s barelegged, as usual. She walks right in and right up to me. Leaning forward she stares at me, her nose wrinkled up and her eyes squinted. I have to fight the fucking laugh that’s trying to force its way out. Jesus, what’s she doing? Giving me a final head to toe, she

shakes her head, as if she’s satisfied with my residence here on the couch. Turning her ass around, she sneaks off into the kitchen. Bumping into the counter, she mutters “Shit,” pretty goddamn loud. Bare feet slapping against the tile of the kitchen floor, this broad couldn’t sneak up on a deaf motherfucker. Bending that big fine ass over, she pulls the fridge door open and starts digging around. Now I pride myself on the ability to keep shit cool—I’m not usually compulsive—but right now I’m having a fuck of a time not hopping up off this couch and doing something fucking crazy. The little black piece of material

she’s got covering her ass rides up, barely covering it, but all I’m seeing is the smooth, tan skin that would look beautiful with my handprint welted on it. I’d already noticed it, but I’m only now taking the time to really look at it. On her thigh is a big fucking skull, wearing a feathered headdress with black feathers wrapping around to the back, just below her ass cheek. A black Indian style arrow starts right at the bottom of her ass, travels down the middle of the back of her thigh, stopping at the back of her knee, the feathers worked into the arrow. It’d be fucking cool if her big plump ass weren’t so goddamn distracting. This shit just isn’t going to work.

I’m a man for fuck’s sake. I can’t have a broad like Lennon living with me looking like she does and wearing the shit she wears. I only have so much selfcontrol. “Lennon?” Yelping, she leaps up, spinning around to face me. Her eyes are fucking huge in her pretty little face. A chocolate bar is clutched against her chest as she heaves out a breath. “Jesus, Buck!” I’m not going to be able to do this shit. This broad is already worming her way into my life, throwing everything off balance, fucking with my sleep, and now she’s becoming a distraction. I should never have taken her anywhere. I need to keep my distance with her. I thought I

was doing her a favor by taking her in, even going as far as taking her to the river to make her happy, but I’m seeing she’s starting to get into my head, and I can’t have that shit. “You need to take your ass to bed.” Cocking her head, she stares at me with a frown. “You deaf, babe?” Lennon needs to go. She’s not making it any easier when she bites her lip nervously. Fucking Jesus. “What?” “Go back to bed, now.” Before I get up and take your ass back to bed myself. Sighing, she turns on her heels and leaves. “Night, darlin’.” Thank fuck. “Fuck you,” she mutters around a

yawn halfway down the hall. Yeah, that’s what I’m tryin’ to avoid.

For the fourth time this week, I’ve come home and found the frolicky little freak outside, deep in the woods with her ass planted in the dirt and toes shoved deep in the grass with no shoes, and no coat. No idea what she’s always doing out there, but she seems to fucking love it, so I let it be. Whatever keeps her out of my line of sight and out of my head works for me. This is becoming a thing, like some sort of routine we’ve got going. I come home and find her out here with Bill, doing nothing. She’s been here a week—

seven days—and it’s pretty fucking obvious this broad is a hippy, down to her soul. She’s always seems to have the sweetest, happiest smile on her face. “How long you been out here this time?” I ask as I take in the tattered, torn, dog-eared book. “Lennon?” “A while.” “It’s getting late, darlin’. Think it’s time you brought your ass inside.” It’s starting to cool down and in nothing but a tank top and shorts, she might freeze to death out here. “Okay.” She rolls her eyes, something she always seems to do with me, and follows me inside.

Sitting on the couch drinking a beer, I wait for Lennon to do whatever the hell it is she’s doing in the bathroom. Heard the shower turn off twenty minutes ago, and now I’m waiting on her. I’m trying to be nice and wait for her to eat, but if she doesn’t hurry the hell up, I’m eating without her. Running a hand through my messy mop, I lean into the couch. This shit is starting to feel a fuck of a lot like playing house. I work all day, Lennon does whatever the fuck she does all day, I come home, she cooks, we eat. We spend time around each other, then we go to bed. The only fucking difference is my ass is sleeping on the couch instead of in my bed with her.

“You didn’t want me to cook?” She hollers through the door at me. One good thing about having a bitch in your house? The home cooked meals. I’ve missed that shit. Might just keep Lennon here for her cooking skills alone. “Nah, got food.” But tonight I figured I’d give her a break. I’m a master at ordering pizza. A few minutes later, the bathroom door opens and out walks Lennon. She’s wearing some matching, tight as fuck, thermal shirt and bottoms. That shit shows every fucking curve of her body. Staring at her, I watch as she twists her mess of wet black hair up and around into a knot on her head. “Yeah?” she asks when she catches

me staring. “Nothing.” I shift and turn back to the TV. Fuck, she’s hot. Getting comfortable on the couch, she shifts and moves until she finds a comfy spot before facing me. “Mmm, pizza.” Leaning towards me, she snatches the half-eaten piece of pizza from my hands and pops it into her mouth. “Help yourself.” I mutter as I get up to get the pizza box. “Don’t mind if I do,” she sings and grins happily at me. She’s a tyrant. I’m having a fuck of a time concentrating on my food when Lennon’s wearing a white shirt and no fucking bra. Not to mention how she’s moaning over

the pizza like it’s the best fucking thing she’s ever put in her mouth, and all I can think of is I’ve got something much better to put in there. “Good?” I ask, focusing on my beer. I’m trying to be a nice guy and not stare directly at her tits. “So good,” she sighs. Just like my life, my bed, and my pizza, Lennon’s taken over my remote. Not that I’m watching the shit anyway. No, I’m watching Lennon watch TV while she eats. She’s watching Jeopardy, yelling out the answers. So far she’s nine out of ten. “You go to college or something?” “Nope,” she mumbles around a huge bite. She doesn’t even bother to

look at me when she answers. “How the hell do you know all this shit then?” Shrugging her shoulders, she continues to stare at the TV. I can’t figure this broad out. “Straight A student?” I know nothing about her, and for some damn reason, I’d kinda like to know something other than her name. “I didn’t make it past tenth.” Her eyes drop and she frowns. That surprises the fuck out of me. She’s uneducated? “No shit?” I even made it to graduation, and I don’t know half the shit she’s spouting off. “No shit. I had a sort of colorful childhood. School wasn’t a priority.” What does that even mean? “Oh yeah? Care to elaborate?” I’m

digging for anything I can get about her. Why do I do this to myself?

Lennon I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say to Buck when he asks me questions about myself. Is it because he’s genuinely curious, or is he just being friendly? Is he looking for reason to hate me? Why do I even care? Maybe he’s trying to make the best of an awkward situation by being friendly and making conversation. I will admit, I do appreciate it. I like Buck. I don’t know him, but I feel like I do. He’s easy going and laid back, which makes me feel comfortable and content around him. I feel like I can just be me. Anyone you can be yourself around is someone you want around. “A colorful childhood?”

“It was unstable.” At fucking best. There was too much going on, too much moving around, to bother with school. Education was a luxury. It was the least of my worries when I could be doing all kinds of other shit to make money during those hours that would’ve been spent in class learning. I was lucky that they let me make it to the ninth grade. School just wasn’t a priority for me. “So how’d you get so goddamn smart?” He asks, looking between the TV and me. That’s easy. “Books ... lots and lots of books.” A lot of moving around equals a lot of free time spent in the back of a car or the bed of a truck, meaning plenty of time to read. I read anything I could get my

hands on. “Books,” he repeats thoughtfully. Yeah, books of all kinds. Books from libraries from all of the country. Truthfully, those libraries are where this whole shit-storm started, where things started to unravel. Because of my lifestyle, I had a lot of unreturned library books. I’m not proud of it. A fourteen-year-old with boxes of stolen library books is where I started the slide down my slippery slope. “Books,” I confirm. Books were my salvation, my saving grace, my companion, and my slow progression into the world of crime. “Huh,” he muses, and that’s the end of that. Buck’s back to being uninterested

and neutral. Staring at the TV, he stops talking and goes back to drinking his beer and eating his pizza. It sucks. As much as I don’t want to talk about me, I do. Deep down I want to talk to someone about anything really, but its obvious Buck is not going to be that person. “I’m going to bed,” I tell him. With his beer bottle at his lips, he looks up at me and frowns. He almost looks ... disappointed? Narrowing his eyes, he seems to think about it for a moment before grunting, “Night.” “Night, Buck.”

Soft rays peek through the tall Pine trees throwing shadows on the wood deck at

my feet the next afternoon. The light rustle of trees in the wind fights to be heard over the rush of the river. It’s a forest musical. Leaning my back against the cedar siding of the house, I stretch my legs out in front of me. My toes meet the end of the wood deck, finding the soft warm rays casting there, instantly heating them up. It’s heaven here. There’s nothing up here but wilderness. No humans, no homes, no stores, nothing. I know why Buck picked this spot. I’ve spent the last week up here alone, most of the time. Eight days with a lot of time on my hands. I’m okay with it though. I’ve wandered, I’ve read, I’ve

napped, and I’ve relaxed. I woke up alone. The house was empty and void of any trace of Buck. I have no idea where he went and when he’ll be back. It’s nothing new. I’m always alone, even when he’s here. One hour and countless chapters later, the growl of engines cut through the quiet. Bill jumps off the deck, barking and howling down the driveway. What the hell? Sitting up, I crane my neck to see a white van coming through the trees, crawling up the gravel road towards me. I instantly feel sick. Whipping my head from side to side, I start to plan my escape. My nerves shoot through the roof and my heart is in my throat. Taking a

few steps back towards the door, the roar of bikes drown out the van. Staring wide-eyed at the driveway, I watch the van drive on by, past the shop and disappear into the woods with two bikes on its tail. Buck rolls to a stop in front of me while the other bike keeps going. It’s definitely not the bike, nor the white van, that has me wide-eyed now. No, it’s the ski mask covering Buck’s face that has me staring. What the shit? Straddling his bike, Buck stares at me through the small cutout in the ski mask. The growl of the engine is drowning out to soft sounds of the forest, making it a hell of a lot less peaceful than it was three minutes ago. What the hell is going on?

Gesturing to his face, I mouth, “What is that?” Why the hell is he riding around with a damn ski mask on? Cutting the engine, Buck throws his leg over his matte black bike, which is damn near as sexy as he is, and tears the mask up over his face. “Yo,” he grunts, jerking his chin in a gruff greeting. Twisting my hand in the air, I give a quick wave and throw my own confused “Yo,” back at him. Bending down, he sticks a hand in the bag on the side of his bike. Digging around in his saddlebag, he rips out a brown paper sack and chucks it at me with no warning. The crumbled bag sails through the air and lands at me feet. “Nice catch,” he says around a

chuckle. “Never claimed to be a catcher,” I smart back as I bend down to pick the bag up. Holding the worn-out and wrinkled bag, I stare at Buck in pure confusion. “What is this?” It’s somewhat heavy and solid. “Take it in. Stick it in the freezer for me.” I just look at him, waiting for an answer. “What,” he groans, rubbing at his beard. He can’t just chuck a bag at me and tell me to put it in a freezer. “Please,” he says, this time in a gentler voice. That’s better. By the time I leave here, he’ll at least have some basic manners.

Walking into the house, I have to peek. It’s impossible not to. It’s a bunch of cash, stacked neatly together. My heart tumbles from my chest to my stomach. Where’d he get this? Shit. Shoving the bag inside of the fridge, I take off down the hall and head into my impromptu bedroom. Shit. Shit. Shit. Scooting my ass up next to the bed, I fish a hand around, digging for my box. My heart beats anxiously and my hand searches frantically for something that’s not there now. Fuck, it was here last night. Leaning down, I lift up the sheets and look. Stuffed up at the head of the bed between the nightstand and leg of the

bed, I find my black duffle and box and my heart stutters to a stop. I think Buck was in here. Tearing the lid off of the box, I open it and dig around, letting my fingers graze the contents. I jump up and look out the door before I get back to my digging. Buck must still be outside where I left him. Here’s to hoping he still is. “Buck,” I holler through the house, but come back with nothing. Good. Sitting back down on the other side of the bed, I get to counting. This has become a thing ... a reassurance of sorts. It’s a balm for my anxiety. When you grow up with nothing, you learn to value the few things you acquire along the

way, and that’s exactly what I’m doing; I’m valuing my shit. “Twenty, thirty, forty,” I whisper under my breath to myself, laying the bills out flat in neat little stacks around me as I count. I have to count it and see it. It’s the only way. “Darlin’, you done putting...” The door creeks open and my head snaps up. My heart lands directly in my ass. Scrambling around, I shovel my shit back into the box like a mad woman. I like Buck, but I don’t know him enough to trust him, or even if he would trust me enough to understand. “The fuck you doin’ over there?” Son-of-a-bitch.

4 - Budweiser Buck A head of black hair and cautious eyes the size of goddamn saucers peek at me from over the edge of the bed. I can’t see her body, but I can tell she’s moving around on the other side. Her shoulders jerk around and shit when she moves. “The fuck you doin’ over there?” I ask. Is she digging through my shit? “Uh, just sorting through my clothes,” she answers breathily, and way too quickly. Flicking her brown eyes from me to the door, it almost looks like she’s looking to make a run for it. If she runs, I’m chasing her ass down. “Lennon?” I cautiously take a step

into the room. Smiling sweetly, she starts chewing on her thumb, watching me closely. “Sorry, I was just looking through my bag. You startled me.” Yeah, not buying her bullshit. “You sure?” “Yeah,” she mutters. “Why wouldn’t I be?” I don’t know, maybe because it looks like you’re going through my shit and I can tell you’re lying through your goddamn teeth. “Alright,” I say, taking a step back into the hall. I’m not sure if this shit is paranoia or if it’s my trust issues, but I trust Lennon as far as I can throw her. I leave her alone. She’s here and she’s already had access to my shit

while I’m gone. Lilly trusted her enough to send her here, and Dan trusted her enough to bring her around. Figure there isn’t much I can do about it now, so I talk myself down. I’m too damn paranoid. “Gotta make a few calls,” I tell her, leaving her in the room alone to do whatever the fuck it is she’s doing. I need to go check to see if she did what I asked her to do.

Walking past the bathroom door, I knock on my way by. She moved on to the bathroom about fifteen minutes ago. “I’m heading out.” I don’t wait for a response. I’ve got shit to do. She can

spend all day curling her hair, fucking with her make-up, shaving her legs, or digging through my cabinets, but I got places to be. Got no time to sit around as she plays Inspector Gadget in there. After I found the twitchy little broad in my room, I went out to the shop to get some shit together for this weekend. There isn’t shit in my house worth stealing anyways, so whatever it is she’s looking for, she isn’t gonna find it. The door whines when she throws it open. “Wait.” A little pair of feet come stomping after me. Turning around, I can’t help my jaw from hitting the floor. I think the thing cracks when it meets the hardwood.

“The fuck you wearin? I can see your pussy through your shorts.” I start waving at her whole damn body. Her eyes meet the ceiling, like she’s trying to control what she’s going to say. “I look fine.” Yeah, too damn fine. “So, can I come with you?” “What?” Fuck no. I start trying to come up with reasons as to why she can’t come with me, but I got nothing. “I wanna come with you,” Lennon says defiantly. “Why?” I can’t stop myself from looking at her tiny white tank top with an eagle stretched across her tits. Covering her ass is a piece of pointless denim, covered in patches of fabric sewed onto them. The American flag, a Budweiser

tee, and tie-dyed fabric is plastered across her ass. On her feet are a pair of beat up Chucks, and no broad has ever looked any fucking better. “I don’t want to sit here by myself,” she says, touching my arm. “So.” “So, I wanna hang out with you.” She’s acting like she likes me, and that shit makes me wonder what her fucking game is. There’s no reason for her to like me. “Yeah, sure you do.” “No, really.” Not believing that shit, but I’m not going to stand here arguing with her about it either. “Can’t wear that on the bike, babe.” I motion at her barely there outfit. That

outfit is a disaster waiting to happen. “Yes I can. I did when you brought me here,” she reasons. Fuck it. If she falls off and hits the road, there won’t be shit left for skin. “Darlin’, you ever hear of road rash? It’s pretty goddamn painful.” I can attest to it. A big fucking scar on my thigh proves that story. “I’ll be fine.” “You burn or cut yourself on the bike, I don’t wanna hear about.” Rolling her eyes, she shoves past me towards the door, digging her pointy ass elbow into my gut as she passes. Man, isn’t she lovely? “Let’s roll, Sasquatch.”

“You haven’t killed her yet?” Rock laughs and congratulates me, slapping me on the back when I walk up next to him out in the garage. No, I haven’t, at least not yet. “Nah.” She’s too pretty to fucking kill, but I’m not above duct tape and a little rope to shut her ass up if she needs it. We both look over at Lennon, who’s walking around the shop, poking around the tool benches and broken down bikes, touching everything within arm’s reach. Picking up a headlight off a bike, she turns it over in her hands, studying it.

“She’s gettin’ pretty handsy there, brother.” Rock nods over at her. He doesn’t have to tell me, I live with the chick. Lennon likes to touch shit that doesn’t belong to her. “You know the rules, babe?” I ask her. Obviously not, because she’s touching everything worth touching. She looks over at me and frowns. “What rules?” “The no touching rule.” She snorts, not buying what I’m selling. She finds that shit funny, does she? “Does that go for all the females around the place?” she smarts, throwing a hand towards Tandy, who’s practically skipping after Dan, topless. “Only the important shit like bikes

fall under that rule, babe,” I tell her. The women are all up for grabs as long as they’re down. Well, everyone aside from Lennon. No one touches her. With her eyes full of fire, she pushes. Taking a few steps back towards the black custom bike, she stops, grins, and sets her ass on the seat, making herself right at home. “So, you mean no touching shit like this?” she asks sweetly, running her hands over the handlebars. “Yeah, darlin’, I mean shit like that.” But Lennon ignores me and keeps touching. “Is this your bike?” Turning her attention to Rock, she licks her lips and carries on with that sweet voiced

bullshit. “Babe,” he mutters, shaking his head. He’s clearly not sure what to say to her. His eyes are practically bugging out of his head when she leans over the bike, giving him a great ass shot. “You mind?” His silence is all the answer she needs. She climbs on and straddles the bike. Turning to me, he shakes his head and frowns. “Good luck, brother.” Yeah, I’m gonna need it. Looking back over at Lennon, she’s smiling like she won the fucking lottery. Sneaky bitch. “Girl, you can keep your ass on my bike, but if you scratch it, I ain’t gonna be happy with you.” Rock adds before

walking off, shaking his head. “I’ll take good care of her, Rock,” she calls after him, beaming. “You’re evil.” I tell her. “You love it.” Not so sure about that.

“Look at this” is the game we’re playing now. First it was the touching game, and now it’s the looking game. Sitting on the workbench in the shop, Lennon’s legs are swinging and the computer is in her lap. She is so fucking lost in the Internet that she’s not paying anyone any attention. You’d think she’d never seen a computer before. Not sure what’s worse, her questions or her

fucking insistence that I, “Oh my God, look at this.” I want to tell her to, “Oh my God, shut the fuck up,” but I don’t. Something about it just seems mean. I handed her that little black box two hours ago and told her to keep her ass on the worktop and out of my way. I figured it would at least keep her hands off my shit. So far, she’s being good. Her ass is still on the worktop. But what she hasn’t done is shut the fuck up. She keeps pulling me away from what I’m doing with each, “Buck, look at this” or “Buck, check this out.” It’s always some stupid fucking thing she’s gotta show me immediately. I’ve watched videos of animals doing stupid shit, looked at pictures of places she

wants to go, things she wants to buy, and heard songs she loves. What I can’t fucking help is how goddamn hot she is while doing all this annoying shit. It’s fucking irritating. Kicking her feet, smiling, laughing. I wanna drive a pickaxe into my fucking ear and fuck her goddamn brains out right there on that work bench. This shit is shit I do not need. I don’t need the sweet, the cute, the funny, and especially the fucking sexy. All that shit is a pretty package, wrapped up in a crazy bow. Been there, done that, and got fucked in the end. I’m not looking for a repeat. This is Dan’s fault. “Here, watch the pretty little annoying girl,” he said.

“Keep her safe, fed, entertained, and with you all the goddamn time.” Fucking Dan. I’m so fucked. With my head under the hood of a truck; flashlight in one hand, a wrench in the other, I hear, “Buck, I wanna go into town.” What I want is for Lennon to find something to do, other than ask me a million questions. “Not going into town right now.” I mutter from under the propped up hood. Jesus, I can already see her batting her eyelashes at me and shit. “Please.” “No.” Feet meet the gravel floor of the shop and I pull my head from under the

hood to see Lennon walking off, her ass swaying back and forth as she goes. “Your ass is supposed to be on that bench,” I holler after her. She just waves me off, dismissing me. “Lennon?” I try again, but it’s no use. She’s not stopping and I don’t really care. “You’re an asshole, Buck.” That’s true. Well, now maybe I can get some shit done. “Later, darlin’.” How much trouble can she get into around here anyways? The brothers will keep an eye on the dark-haired devil.

Lennon Buck is cold today—uninterested and irritated. Today he doesn’t like me. Sunglasses firmly on and a curl to his lips, he’s being extra biker badass this afternoon. It’s a beautiful fucking thing to watch. Every word that comes from my mouth seems to annoy him more than the last. It’s fun. I was only trying to make friends, squish the awkwardness, but now I’m just trying to push his buttons because God knows it makes me weak in the knees when he gets all stern with me. Looking back over my shoulder at the shop where Buck’s hiding out, I shake my head. He doesn’t want to take me to town, that’s fine. I’ll find my own

way, like usual. Buck’s in a mood and I’m having a hell of a time not punching his teeth down his throat anyways. I’m sure someone around here will take me and be nice about it. Buck’s not the only one with access to something with a motor, I’m sure. Tromping across the gravel lot, it occurs to me when the whole property comes into view that this is the weirdest setup I’ve ever seen. Looking around, I get the feeling this place is a biker’s paradise. Off the highway, down a dirt driveway, in the middle of a gravel lot, surrounded by dense forest sits an old rundown shanty of a bar and grill. Believe me, I use bar and grill loosely.

You wouldn’t know it was here unless you were from around here, or stumbled across the sign, missing a bunch of light bulbs. It’s more of a wooden shack with a few tables, chairs, a bar, and a kitchen than a restaurant and bar. Behind the “bar,” off to the side is a ten room motel. They’re something special, as in bad porn set, disco fever kinda special. Behind that is an old rusted metal shop, and behind that, through a patch of trees, is a cabin / house deal that I’ve yet to explore. And to top it off, there are motorcycles and bikers littering the entire property. It’s like a weird fortress, secluded in the middle of nowhere and hidden behind miles of gravel and trees. It’s the

perfect place to hide away from the world, conducting all kinds of illegal business. They have everything they need; food, shelter, bikes, parts, and all the things to fix them with. But most importantly, they have booze. The gravel crunches under my feet on my way to the only person within shouting distance. A tall, slender, leather covered back is facing me, but I can tell it’s Buck’s brother, Poncho. I wander up to a paved hole in the ground. “There’s a pool?” I muse, stepping around a rusty lounger. Makes sense, I guess, considering this was a motel at one point. Shifting on his feet, Poncho gives me a sly smile, stretching his mocha

colored skin. “There is?” he mocks surprise, eying me over his shoulder. Walking up next to him, I can see a black garden hose in his hand, water flowing from the end into the hole in the ground. “Don’t you have people to do that?” I ask, motioning towards the hose in his hand. I don’t know a lot about MC life, but I do know there are prospects to do this sort of stuff. “Rather be doin’ this than stuck in that hot ass shop.” He nods over at the shop I just exited. “It is hot.” I agree. I’d rather be out here too. The hole in the ground was a pool in its former life. Fifty years ago, I’m

sure it was nice, serene, and possibly even tranquil, but now it’s nothing more than a cracked and chipped hole in the ground. The old blue plaster is sun faded and rust streaked. There are cracks up the walls and there’s a piece of plaster missing from the bottom the size of Texas. It’s not a nice water feature. Hell, it’s not even clean. Bacteria breeding ground, I’m sure. But it’s about one hundred fucking degrees out here. Botulism be damned, I’m dipping at least one toe in there if I’m allowed. “Can I swim in it, or is there some biker rule that outsiders only swim in the river?” “One piece or two?” he asks,

cocking a thick black brow at me in question. “A what?” It dawns on me the second I question it. I get it. He’s hilarious. “Naked.” “Then you get first dip, babe.” A few inches of water pool at the bottom of the hole, and at this rate, he’s gonna be here for a while. “So why are you filling up the pool?” “For this weekend. Why, you like watchin’ me fill up the pool?” Boredom. Pure, mind-numbing boredom. “Bored. Watcha doing after you fill this pool up, huh?” Good God, please say leaving. “What do ya want, Lennon?”

I’m new here. None of these people know me, but whatever interactions we have, I feel like they do know me, or at least they’re getting me. Or maybe it’s me being a female thing they seem to get. I can’t even lie without someone catching on. “I need a ride into town.” “Buck know?” They’re getting me and I’m starting to get them. They’ve got this loyalty thing down to a fine art. I can’t make a move without Buck in the know. “Nope.” No point in lying. He could very well just yell across the lot to Buck and rat me out. “Then no dice. Buck gives the go ahead, then we’re good. Buck doesn’t

know, then it’s a no go.” Too goddamn loyal. “Yeah, yeah,” I mutter, walking off.

The road down to the highway must be at least a mile. By the time I reach the highway, I’m hot, and that bacteria breeding ground of a pool sounds like heaven right now. I left Poncho to his pool duties and Buck to his tinkering. Figured I could find my own ride. Who needs guys with bikes anyways? Reaching the side of the highway, I pray like hell it’s a busy one. I’m in no mood to stand out here all day, waiting under the scorching sun for a ride. Walking a ways down the road, I

see nothing but asphalt ahead of me. There’s not a damn car in sight. The sun’s pounding down on me from all directions, the rays beat off the road, causing waves to rise above the yellow dashes. It’s desert hot out here. At least I might catch a tan. Running a hand down the back of my neck, I wipe away the beads of sweat collecting there. I’m dragging my feet down the pavement when I hear a vehicle come up behind me. Please let it be a kind, non-murderous motorist who’s willing to help a melting girl out with a ride. I watch a truck slow down on the other side of the road. Giving myself a moment to memorize the plate, I read it

over in my head; 00F26Q, just in case I get kidnapped, ya know. Safety and that kind of shit is important. I don’t really want to end up on the cover of the local papers. The truck rolls to a stop. It’s a big, blue, beat-up rusty bucket, but hopefully it’s my chariot into town. “Hey,” a man, maybe in his late thirties, hollers at me from his rolled down window. His arm is on the door and his head’s out the window, giving me a once over. “Where ya headed?” I ask. I don’t have time for pleasantries. “Town. Need a lift?” Nah, I just like standing on the side of the highway, in the scorching heat, hoping to make

conversation with a complete stranger. “Yeah, that would be ...” The roar of a bike cuts my words off. Oh no. Tires meet gravel and skid to a halt a few feet behind me. Shit. I bail. I bail real quick, as quick as my feet will carry me. “Never mind, I’ll walk. Thanks.” “The fuck you goin’, Lennon?” Buck’s booming voice growls after me. I don’t bother turning around, I just keep walking really, really fast. “Town.” I yell back. Asshole. Boots beat down the gravel as he gains on me. Fuck, he’s fast. “Woman, your ass better stop when I start talkin’.” I do. I stop and turn around to face him and my head snaps back in surprise. “Woman?” Who the fuck does he

think he’s calling woman? “I hope woman is biker slang for sweetheart,” I warn him. “Bitch work better for you?” He grins. A big, fat, happy ass grin breaks out on his stupid face. Buck gets no response from me. I turn and continue my journey into town on foot. I’m not real sure why Buck cares where I’m going and who I’m going with. An hour ago he couldn’t wait to get rid of me, and now he’s following me. See, hot and cold. Pick a fucking temperature, man. My feet leave the ground and the air is squeezed clean out of my lungs when Buck hauls me up and against his chest. “What the hell?”

“You got a death wish, darlin’?” “I don’t know, are you planning on killing me?” Death by Buck might be worth it. Slow, painful, and torturous. I might just like that. My back is smashed into Buck’s chests as he carries me, feet dangling from the ground, towards his bike. He’s grumbling under his breath, but he doesn’t answer me. That’s fine too. Rounding the truck that’s now rolling away, I see three of Buck’s guys watching, all laughing. “Boys.” Nodding at each one, I give them all a dazzling smile. “At least I’ll get my ride into town this way,” I grumble back at him. If he wants to carry me, by all means, carry

away. I’m not going to fight him. Setting me on my feet, be turns me towards the bike. “Can’t just prance your fuckin’ ass into town on foot, Lennon.” I can’t? That’s news to me. “Prance?” I laugh, which Buck doesn’t find funny at all. The giant harry man just used the word prance. “You ever watch yourself walk?” He snaps at me. “Well, no. It’s not like I carry a full size mirror in front of me when I walk, dumbass.” “Well you prance, babe, so like I fuckin’ said, you can’t prance or fuckin’ hitchhike around here.” Prance. I can’t believe that word just came from his mouth again. But seriously, why is he so

goddamn bossy. “How the fuck do you think I got back over to this side of the country? I didn’t fly back here.” Kicking out a leg, I point down at my beat up chucks. “I used my goddamn feet.” Hitchhiking is my preferred method of transportation if there isn’t a ride to hitch or a bus to catch. I figure my own shit out, always.

5 - Hitchhikers and Hobos Buck Did I hear her right? I’m not sure if I should be concerned or fucking impressed. I wonder how the fuck she managed that all by her damn self. The tiny little woman alone, out on the open road is a stretch, even for my imagination. “You hitchhiked all the way here?” I don’t know much about the bitch, but that’s a hell of a trip by herself. “Yep,” she says proudly. Nothing about that sounds like a good idea. I’m surprised her face didn’t end up on milk

cartons with Missing plastered across it, but then again, she seems crazy enough to make it across the country alone, without getting herself killed. She’s just one of those bitches, tough and scary in her own little way. “Pretty stupid fucking idea, babe.” Shrugging her shoulder, she crosses her arms defensively. “I’m still alive.” Yeah, thank fuck for that. Now I’m all for equality in the sexes—women’s rights and all of that bullshit—but come the fuck on. A chick out on the open road alone is stupid and unsafe. I’m pretty sure that’s how all those missing persons /serial killer shows start.

She might be used to hitchhiking and shit when she’s out there floating around in the world alone, but she won’t be doing that shit on my time. I’m not being held responsible for her lack of self-fucking-preservation. “Get on the bike ‘n I’ll take your goddamn ass into town.” I’ve got shit to do, but chasing her up and down the highway isn’t one of them. Fuck, she needs a babysitter, or better yet, a leash. “Okay.” She agrees cheerily. Fucking women. Crawling on behind me, she wraps herself around me. Setting her chin on my shoulder, she says softly, “See? This would’ve been so much easier if you would’ve just taken me in the first

place.” All of this would be much easier if you weren’t here, digging a hole into my life and planting yourself there. Firing up the bitch, I throw the kickstand up and try to ignore the broad on the back of my bike, her wandering hands, and her telling me where she thinks I’m going to take her. I’ll take her wherever I goddamn please. It isn’t easy to block her out with her big tits pressed against my back and her hands drifting closer to my dick. She smells like coconut and cucumber, and it smells fucking good. This would be so much easier if I could just fuck her and get rid of her. “Shut up and hold on.”

Pulling up in front of a little shop in town, I flip my kickstand down. Holding out my hand, I help Lennon off my bike. Tink’s place is a little shop on the corner of the drag with picture windows displaying a couple gleaming Harleys and shelves showcasing an endless supply of merchandise. It’s been here a fuck of a long time, and it’s a place I visit often. “Come on, darlin’.” The bell above the door rattles when we walk through, and the smell of leather and grease greet me. Letting the door swing closed, it hits the frame with a loud crack. Lennon is hot on me heels,

her hand on my back, holding on to me. The little time I’ve spent with Lennon, I’ve learned she’s a toucher. Not the type of woman who flirts with her hands, seeking attention, but the type who needs the contact, needs to touch things. She has no fucking clue she does it, and I’m not going to stop her. “Come on, babe.” Taking her hand, I lead her inside and in front of me. I don’t mind her touching, but I hate her behind me where I can’t see her. “Welcome to—” Tinker starts to say, walking in from the back. His phony smile drops and his shoulders drop when he sees me. “Oh, it’s just you.” What a welcome. “Nice to see you too, old man.” I

respond back sarcastically. “Eh, fuck you.” He waves me off while puttering off to the register, the chain on his wallet rattling in the quiet shop. Lennon’s looking up at me, waiting for lord knows what, with curious eyes and a big smile. “Yeah?” I implore. I hate when she stares at me like that. I can’t tell what she’s thinking. “Can I look around?” Don’t see why she’s asking me now. “Sure.” Letting go of my hand, she smiles and mouths, “Thanks.” I’m caught watching her walk away when Tink asks, “Got yourself an old lady or somethin’?” He’s looking at me with that knowing

old man stare he’s perfected over the years. Yeah she’s my somethin’ alright. “That a yes or a no, brother?” Elbows planted on the counter, he lifts his chin towards Lennon, and he starts staring, all interested and shit in her. He’s not even fucking close. Lennon and me aren’t much. Not even sure you’d call us friends. Leaning my back against the counter, I cross my arms and start watching her too. “Nah, she needs adult supervision is all,” I tell him. I have no idea why she landed here in my lap, but I’m learning it isn’t the worst thing that could have happened to me.

“A favor,” he grunts in understanding. Tinker knows how this shit goes. Occasionally we gotta help some outsiders out, and usually that outsider is linked to a brother or an old lady. Rule two, we protect our own and that shit extends to family and friends. “Yep.” “Tough break,” he says, grinning. I get it, she’s fucking hot. But she’s still a woman—a needy, whiney woman. “You wanna live with her?” “Sure, send her my way,” he offers easily without hesitation. Tinker, an old-timer, semi-retired bother, has owned the local bike shop in town for years. He sells just about anything you could need for a bike;

parts, leathers, bike accessories, helmets, and all that good shit. Anything you need, he’s your man. But it’s his knowledge about bikes and the world that has us young motherfuckers coming here. Tinker knows everything there is to know about everything. “She ain’t hard on the eyes, brother.” Yeah, but she’s hard on everything else. “No, that she is not.”

Lennon is a handsy little thing today. I’m pretty sure it’s impossible for her to keep her fucking hands to herself as she walks around the store. I watch her touch everything in the goddamn place within

arm’s reach. She’s browsed a rack of leather jackets, checked out the isle of boots, and now she’s perusing the helmets. Picking up a full black helmet, she inspects the shit out of it before setting on her head. I watch her and laugh to myself. I have no fucking clue what she’s doing, but she’s having fun, something she always seems to be able to do, no matter what she’s doing. Turning towards Tinker and me, she puts her hands on her hips and shouts through the shield, “Does this helmet make me look fat?” She’s trying to set me up to fail with that question. Lennon has to bite her lip. She’s

trying desperately not to laugh. She’s fucking with me. She’s funny, or at least she thinks she is. Tinker stands up and starts shaking his head, chuckling to himself, “She always like this?” Yeah, I’m starting to think so. “Well ... does it?” Lennon laughs, walking back over towards the footwear isle, the helmet still bobbing around on her head. “Nah, babe.” Shaking my own damn head, I fight my own smile. This chick is definitely something else. Her laugh and that smile are so goddamn infectious, I find myself mirroring them all the fucking time since she’s stormed into my life.

Two hours, a long list of parts ordered, and thirty questions from Lennon later, we’re about ready to head back up the mountain, but she isn’t done. “Buck?” “Yeah, babe?” Turning away from the counter, I catch sight of Lennon walking up next to me with an armload of shit piled up in her arms. She has so much shit, I can’t decipher what it all is. Dumping it on to the counter, she sighs, pleased with her haul. “The fuck is all this shit?” I ask her, picking up a jacket, just one of the twenty things she’s dumped on the counter. She wasn’t just browsing, she

was shopping. “Gear,” she replies, like it’s no big thing. Looking from her to loot, I must give her a funny look because she widens her eyes in challenge. “Lennon—” I start to say, but she lifts a brow, begging me to argue. But that cute little brow doesn’t do shit to stop me from opening my mouth. “What is all this shit?” Although I can see a few shirts and a jacket in the pile. “I want to buy some stuff.” “You got money, babe?” Fuck, wrong question to ask. Her face screws up, but seriously, it’s a valid question. She shows up here wearing clothes that look years old, two small bags in tow,

and not a damn thing else. Why the fuck would I think she’s got any money. “I might be a hitchhiker, but I’m not a fuckin’ hobo, Buck. I’ve got money, don’t you worry.” Well that’s news to me. “Where’d you get money?” I ask. Immediately the word stripper pops into my head. “Around,” she says cryptically, keeping her eyes from mine. She’s pulling at her lip, looking like she got caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “Around?” I repeat. Rubbing at my beard, I try to rub the tension in my jaw away, but it’s not working. Lennon’s a fucking mystery. “I’m crafty,” she says with a shrug.

I drop it. She isn’t giving me shit and I’m not in the mood to torture it out of her right now. “Sure, darlin’.” Digging into the top of her shirt, she goes for her tits and pulls out a wad of cash. Fuck, that’s gotta be one of the sexiest things I’ve seen in a long, long while. Slapping it down on the counter next to my hand, she smirks up at me. “Ring it all up, please.”

Finally back at the club, Lennon’s busy chatting it up with Cinnamon, a club whore. They’re starting to filter in. Little by little, the tribe is starting to show. It’s Tuesday, and Lennon’s been here almost

two weeks now. She’s just starting to settle in. She fits and it works ... for now. “Forty years, brother.” Dan announces proudly, slapping me on the back as he saddles up next to me. I haven’t been here but a fraction of that time, but that doesn’t mean those words don’t make me fucking proud. I bleed this shit. My bike, my brothers, my club. It’s in my veins, my DNA. Without this, I’d be lost. “Forty goddamn years,” I repeat, lifting my beer in a toast. “Got Chapters comin’ in from all over,” Dan says after a minute. And by all over, he means Montana, Alaska, the Dakotas, Texas, and Florida.

“Shit’s gonna be outta control,” I confirm. “Fuckin’ hope so.” Laughing, I nod at that. Me too. It just isn’t a Disciples party if a fight doesn’t break out, something isn’t broken, a baby isn’t conceived, or a keg isn’t demolished. We party hard. The Hell’s Disciples Oregon Chapter is creeping up on its forty-year mark. In just a few days, the whole goddamn gang will be here to help us ring in the event. Brothers from Chapters all around this grand country will be here to welcome in our forty, and a party is the only way to ring it in. “How’s it goin’ with the little wild child?” Dan asks, eyeing Chatty Cathy

over at the bar. Lennon is talking and the bitch Cinnamon is actually laughing. Cinnamon never laughs. Lennon seems to make friends wherever she goes. Hell, the whores even like her, aside from Jess. “It’s goin’. I ain’t killed her yet.” If that’s what he’s worried about. She’s still breathing. I think I deserve some sort of an award for that alone. “She can’t be that bad.” He’s right. She isn’t that bad. In fact, she’s fuckin’ working. She cooks and cleans and she’s nice to fucking look at. So far, so good. “Just not interested.” Not looking for another headache. Lennon and me, we’re cool, but that’s about it. “Well good. It’s not like she was

some sorta gift for your ass anyways,” Dan tells me. Yeah, didn’t figure she was. “But ya know, Buck, you’re gonna have to put that shit behind ya someday. She was a cunt. They ain’t all like that.” No shit, but it isn’t gonna be today that I find me a non-cunt. “Thanks,” I tell him. I’m not fucking sure what else to say to that. We drink and we talk. It might be a party, but there’s always a purpose. We’ll get our brothers here, strengthen our alliances, and get some perspective on the situation we’ve got brewing with the Raiders. “We good here?” Dan asks. “Yeah.” Grabbing his beer from the table, Dan stands up, babbling, “These

bitches need to get this shit cleaned up before the brothers get here. Don’t need ‘em thinkin’ we’re pigs. Cleanin’ time, ladies,” he bellows, walking off towards the back. “Get up off your asses.” Cleaning this shithole isn’t going to help, but whatever makes him feel better.

Lennon I make my way to where Buck’s hiding in the corner, sliding into the booth across from him. Looking up from his beer, he gives me a nice, tolerable smile. The corner of his eyes crinkle and his lips tip slightly. Tonight he kinda likes me. “What was Cinnamon bitchin’ about?” Buck asks, sliding his glasses onto his head. He must really want to know if he’s giving me his eyes. Cinnamon, a sweet butt, as she put it herself, was trying to fill me in on the local drama; who’s who, and who’s sleeping with whom. I listened. I was being nice, but I wasn’t interested until she started in on Buck’s business. She

had my full attention then, but of course she had nothing worthwhile for me. The woman was holding out on me, I could tell. Buck had been in a relationship a year or two back, and she was, and I quote, “A fucking bitch.” I pushed for more, but got nothing. I also learned that this club has five resident whores. Jess, the head whore and Buck’s ex-bitch, Cinnamon, the next in command, then Lady, Tandy, and Kitty. I was informed that they weren’t looking for anymore to add to the group. Apparently I’m welcome as long as my stay is temporary. They seem nice enough to my face, but it’s my back I’ve gotta watch.

“She was just welcoming me.” Bucks eyebrows hit his hairline in surprise. “We’re going to have a sleep over,” I tell him. “I’m gonna need to borrow your sleeping bag.” “I’m sure,” he laughs, and it’s not some quick, broody laugh. He fucking laughs, deep and raspy, and it’s music to my ears. “Okay, so it was more like warning me,” I concede. Nodding, he leans back and takes a drink from his beer. “Sounds more like the bitch.” “You’re not friends? Not dating any of the sweet butts?” I joke, but he glares. A serious look crosses his face briefly before he ends the conversation with a terse, “Fuck no.” Alrightly then ... and

we’re back to cold. I look at him, and I mean I really look at him. His glasses are on his head, a beer at his lips, and a large tattooed arm thrown over the back of the booth. He’s all hard-ass. He doesn’t give much of a fuck, you can see it on his face. And I can’t help but to wish he liked me more. I don’t know why, really. I’m not sticking around for the friendship to live on, but sometimes, every once in a while, I wish I had a few more friends. I like Buck, I really do. It’s that something about him I’m drawn to. “You ready, darlin’?” Buck’s deep voice cuts into my thoughts. “For?” I ask him carefully. Has he been talking to me this whole time I’ve

been staring like a tool at him? “The big ass anniversary party this weekend. Got the whole fucking tribe coming.” Everybody? “Does that mean Lil, Peaches, Cali, and Lala?” Nodding, he takes another drink of his beer, smiling around the bottle. The bulky muscles of his neck work the liquid down and my stomach does a little dance at the sight. Damn his stupid, sexy tattooed neck. “Yeah, Lennon.” “I can’t wait.” I smile an honest to God happy smile. “Glad you’re happy, darlin’. Got a favor to ask you.”

My stacking duties are done, and I’ve washed and rinsed. Buck had needed a favor and who am I to deny him? He’s putting me up and keeping an eye out for me. Plus, he said please. A little light domestic work never hurt anyone, well, expect for the guys who are bitching like girls about it. Leaning my hip against the bar top, I watch Buck work a broom. Brushing it from side to side, he’s making more of a mess than he’s actually cleaning. It’s priceless. All six-foot-three, cut wearing, badass working a small dainty broom handle. “You trading in two wheels for a broom?” I joke, walking back around the bar towards him. Watching the muscles

in the back of his arms work, a shiver runs up my spine. He twists his head around with his lips tipped in another smile. “You wanna do this?” He mocks, holding the broom out towards me. Putting my hands up, I shake my head. Oh no, I’d much rather watch him do it. “No, you’re pretty good at it.” “I think it’s your turn.” “Yeah, no.” A big stained, calloused covered hand snatches up my arm and jerks me right into him. My body lands right up against his, hip to thigh. “I wanna watch you do it, babe,” he growls, his voice dipping low. The broom is placed in my hand and Buck

takes a step back. He’s no longer smiling, he’s grinning. A big toothy, shiteating grin directed right at me. My heart skips a beat. “Get on with it,” he commands. For a solid minute I stare at him, wondering how the hell I ended up with this job. Buck had one task, and that was to sweep. I told him I’d do the rest, but he had to pick one. Sweeping was his choice and now he’s bitching out on me. “Buck.” “Don’t know how to sweep?” I think he’s teasing me. I’m not sure what’s happening here ... hot and cold. He’s smiling and joking with me. Now he likes me. “Babe,” Buck chuckles, taking a

large step towards me, his boots clomping against the wood floors. He comes and stands behind me, putting both his large tattooed arms around me, and I melt. With his hand at my stomach, he pulls me back against him. A breath catches in my throat and I damn near stop breathing when his fingers sweep against my skin. Settling me against him, he goes for my hands next. I’m stuck wondering what the fuck’s happening and obsessing over how good it feels to have his hands on me. I’m afraid my panties might spontaneously burst into flames. Hands wrapped around mine, my back against his front, and his face hovering near my ear, a shiver shoots

down my spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Oh God. Guiding my body, he shows me how to sweep. I know how to fucking sweep. The only thing he’s showing me is how goddamn good his body feels against mine. From side to side, he shows me how it’s done. “Just like that, babe, side to side,” he rasps, chin rested on my shoulder, lips still at my ear. My body sags and my blood pressure spikes. “You good, Lennon?” He laughs softly when I sag into him. Fuck no, I’m not okay. I’m sweeping and all I want to do is jump him right here. “Y-yeah,” I sputter stupidly. “Good, babe, because you got sweeping duty, seeing as you’re real

fucking good at it.” And just like that, I’ve sobered up and my burning panties are doused in cold water. That Buck magic fades instantly. This motherfucker just played me. Buck takes a step back from my body, beaming proudly. He thinks he’s won. Bringing the broom up, I swipe at his shin, knocking him in the leg. “You fuckin’ sweep, asshole.” I drop the broom to the ground in my own dramatic fashion. Turning on my heels, I take my ass back to the bar while Buck laughs, rubbing his shin. “Come on, babe. You know you were enjoying it.” The hell I was. “I’d rather watch you do it.” I make

myself comfortable on the bar. “I might be better at sweeping, but what you lack in skill you make up for in enthusiasm, so get to gettin’, darlin’.” A laugh bursts from his mouth and he nods. “Fuck it, I’ll sweep.” Damn right he will.

6 - Tits and Ass and Lennon Buck “Did she make ya bleed?” Rock chuckles, watching me rub at the nice little knot Lennon just gave me. Damn, I’m gonna have a limp now. “Almost.” “She’s quick with that broom.” “Yeah, she is.” She’s like a ninja. All these bitches are doing the bare minimum. No one wants to clean, not that I blame them. Not sure there’s enough bleach in this state to make a dent. Gas and a match might do the trick. But these women aren’t helping

themselves. Jess is in the corner by the bar, pretending to clean, and Cinnamon is walking around aimlessly, carrying an empty box. At this rate, not a goddamn thing is getting done, which will only serve to piss Dan off. He’ll start cracking skulls if shit doesn’t start happening. “These bitches are lazy,” I tell Rock, like he doesn’t already know. The only person doing anything is Lennon, and she’s dancing while doing it. “Yeah, no shit.” “Oh yeah, Tyler’s lookin’ for ya,” Rock adds before walking off, back to the front door with a giggly Cinnamon on his heels, still carrying that empty box. Making my way over to Tyler, he

levels me with some serious shit when he says, “Someone’s at the Love Lounge, askin’ questions.” Shit. Sitting down next to him, he slides me a beer. “Fuckin Christ.” It never stops. Right now, the frosty bottle is like Christmas fucking morning. “Are they asking about Lou?” Losing a brother cuts deep, but having outsiders poke around adds salt to the wound. In my opinion, it’s nobody’s business but his family and us, his brothers. Anyone else getting in between is just looking for trouble. “Yeah, askin’ ‘bout what we know ‘n what we’re plannin’ on doin’.” “The girls know who it is?” I need to shut this shit down real quick like.

What he says next is all I need to know. “Some motherfucker in a cut.”

“Where we goin’?” Lennon asks over my shoulder. I chew on my answer for a second. Lennon and me are starting to get to know each other and I don’t think she’ll care, but she’s a woman, so there’s a fifty/fifty chance I don’t know the shit I think I do about her. “Titty bar.” Lennon shifts, her front pressing into me, but she doesn’t say anything. I wait for it. I wait for a long few minutes, but nothing comes. I start to doubt that I know anything. I wouldn’t even be taking her with me if it weren’t

for the fact that the bar is in the opposite direction than the house. There’s no time to take her there, and I’m not interested in leaving her alone at the bar with Jess and her hoard, so I loaded her up and I’m taking her with me. “A titty bar, or a strip club?” she asks. “Does it matter?” “Maybe.” I can hear the wheels up there turning, and I’m smelling trouble. Swear to fuck, she was brought into my life to kill me. At least it’ll be a beautiful death. “Well, it’s all the same damn thing.” Okay, not really, but that’s neither here nor there. There are tits and there is ass, and there’s some dancing that lonely

motherfuckers pay to see it all. One place is just more extreme than the other, not that it makes that much of a difference. Shady shit happens at both. “Its not the same thing,” Lennon says seriously. This isn’t a matter of life and death, it’s a matter of butt-ass naked and half-naked women. “Anyways, you gonna be okay?” I ask her, knowing damn well women are a sensitive bunch and assholes like me are always walking a fine line with them. One wrong move, word, or look, and I might wake up with a shotgun to the head. “Sure,” she chirps happily. “Can I dance? Ya know, do a little guest appearance?”

“Fuck no.” Has she lost her goddamn mind? This is hard enough without having her beauty crammed further down my fucking throat. Looking at her with clothes on is hard enough, but any less clothing, I’d die of a heart attack. “Come on Buck,” she starts begging, her chin resting on my shoulder. She’s too damn close to be asking these kinds of questions. “Not fuckin’ happening.” Not while she’s with me and I’m breathing. “We’ll see.” Yeah, we will. We’ll see her staying right by my side.

Unlike most assholes, I don’t get a thrill

from sitting on my ass watching hungry women shake their shit for my hard earned cash. It reeks of desperation, and I’ve had about all I can take of desperate women. The strip joint is a place for business in our world. A lot of shit goes down here under the neon lights. Discretion and obscurity are offered up here in spades, something we can’t get many other places. The unspoken rule that whatever happens here, stays here, extends to clients and business partners. We tend to find that shit appealing, and even some brothers enjoy the free show with their drinks and business, but I’m just not one of them. I appreciate the women’s hustle.

They’re doing what they’ve got to do to survive. We have that shit in common. The almighty dollar calls to us all. Clothes on or off, we’re all trying to get by and they’re just doing it with what they know best. Can’t really shit on that, but I’m just not looking for that in a woman, if I were looking for a woman. The Love Lounge isn’t a dive, but it’s not upscale either. Blue collar and you’re average joe frequent the place. There’s a main stage with a few poles front and center, a long bar to the left, and private rooms to the right. Tables are in between and bathrooms are in the back. It’s all neon signs, ‘80s rock, and cheap booze. It’s exactly like you’d expect.

Average doesn’t seem to faze Lennon because the second we walk through the doors, she’s smiling, excited as hell. Walking in next to me, Lennon says, “I love this song,” as she bumps into my side with her hip. She’s looking around from side to side, fascinated, her hair swaying back and forth. “This place is crazy.” “Crazy fuckin’ packed.” Of course it’s fucking packed when I’m looking for a single individual, soon to be a dead son-of-a-bitch. I notice the stares and the looks Lennon’s getting. Every motherfucker in here sees her. Wearing jeans with more holes than a block of Swiss cheese, rips

across the bottom right, just below her ass, and a tiny black tee stretched over her ample tits. She looks fucking sexy. I know it, she knows it, and every asshole in here knows it. It feels fucking good to be next to a beauty like her. We walk through the crowded tables with Lennon on one side, Rock and Tyler on the other. I give the nod to split up. The farther we fan out, the better chance we got at locking this asshole down. “Can I watch the show?” Lennon asks me once the guys walk away. Stopping at a table dead in the center of the bar, she grabs the back of a chair, ready to plant her ass in it. As much as I’d get a kick out of watching Lennon

watch the show, I’m here for business. “As long as you don’t get yourself in trouble.” And I should probably add, “And stay the fuck off of the stage.” Lennon’s just the type of woman who needs that sorta rule enforced. She snorts a laugh and rolls her eyes, but there’s a little guilt on her face. “Not playing, darlin’.” She’s completely unfazed. “Yeah, I think I can do that.” “No need to think about it, just don’t do it.” Some guys might be cool with their chicks working the pole, but I’m not one of those guys. My woman is my woman. Now Lennon might not be my woman, but by default she’s my responsibility, therefore no one sees her

naked. Smiling up at me, she does a little shimmy, shaking her ass as she plants it in the old chair. “Lennon,” I warn. I have a feeling she’s gonna do whatever the hell it is that she wants to do. “Gotcha, big guy.” Weaving through bodies, I’m on alert with my eyes going everywhere. Anyone wearing a cut outside of ours is getting a fucking shakedown.

Lennon I don’t particularly enjoy naked women, but I also don’t hate them either. I’m pretty indifferent with the whole thing, but the way the bottle blonde is working the pole, it’s hard not to watch. It’s a craft, and she has clearly mastered it. ‘Bubble Butt’ plays through the room and she’s got my attention. Upside down, she slides down the pole, all while shaking her ass to the beat. Reaching the bottom, she tosses her legs out and puts them on the ground in some torturous back bend before letting the pole go and falling into an impressive split. She’s definitely earing her money tonight.

I’m not even sure talent describes it. It’s more like some black magic shit. Sitting in the middle of the room, I watch Buck wade through the crowd, over to Rock. They lean against a wall and start to talk with their heads close together. I don’t have the slightest idea what they’re talking about, but they both look pissed. Buck’s scowling hard and Rock is glaring around the room as he listens to Buck. Where Buck is harsh and manly, Rock is more handsome and put together, in a weird way. He’s dark-haired with dark features. He’s taller than Buck, but not as bulky. He’s more athletic in build. Rock is handsome, anyone with eyes can see it, but Buck is something

entirely different. Twenty minutes later, watching the dancers on stage, I lose track of Buck. Sitting at my table, I sip my Bud and observe. The Love Lounge is bustling. Tables are full and bar stools are occupied with a constant rotation of asses. The music is deafening, but you couldn’t hold a conversation here. I’m starting to get bored and that’s never good. I decide to walk around the tables, making my way to the far side of the club when a man stands up too quick and I bump right into his back. I stumble a little before the man turns to look at me. Narrowing his eyes, he sneers, “Watch it, little girl.”

The jerk-off is wearing a plain leather vest. I can’t call it a cut since it’s missing its patches. I’m not sure if he’s a biker, but really, it makes no damn difference to me. “It was just an accident.” Jesus, there’s no need to pop a blood vessel over it. “Made me spill my beer, bitch,” he growls before turning his back on me. Now he’s calling me names. Sometimes my brain is quicker than my mouth, but unfortunately today is not that day. “Fuckin’ asshole,” I grumble back, stepping away from him. “What’d you say, bitch?” The lumberjack asks, turning slowly back towards me. It really might be the three

beers I just had, or I could have zero sense, but my mouth is ahead of my brain. “I called you a fuckin’ asshole.” I couldn’t stop it. It just spilled right out of my mouth. The guy throws a look over his shoulder at his table. The guy sitting there starts to laugh. It’s an ugly smoker’s laugh. His friend adds, “You gonna let that cunt talk to you like that?” I could just walk off and let the jerk-off win, or I could stand up straight and wait for his witless comeback. I’m sure his arsenal of witty remarks is full of nasty names and crude body part observations. “Wanna lick up the mess you made, bitch?” He hasn’t gotten past calling me

a bitch, repeatedly. He’s a super cleaver one. “Wanna cry a little more about your spilled beer?” I smart back. Hardly anything spilled out onto the table, nothing worth getting his panties in such a bunch over. The guys face darkens a few shades and a vein bulges in his forehead. Getting up in my personal space, he gives me a stare down. “You stupid fuckin’―” He doesn’t finish, but I watch as his eyes flash with fear. With a step back, I bump into a hard body and hope like hell it’s a body I know, and not more of the icky lumberjack’s friends.

“Finish what you were about to say,” Buck growls, his chest vibrating with anger against me, “so I can break your fucking neck.” I shouldn’t feel good, but I do. There’s no doubt that I feel better knowing Buck’s behind me. I watch the guys head swivel around swiftly, looking for something―probably an exit. His features have gone from pissed off asshole to scared asshole in two-pointtwo. It’s a quick getaway, but not quick enough. The man makes a run for it, but Buck’s faster. Snatching up the back of the guys vest, Buck jerks him to a halt. “Now where the fuck you think you’re

going? You ‘n me got some talking to do.” “I-I didn’t mean nothin’ by it.” Buck laughs, and it’s scary. It’s not sexy and deep, but sinister and mean. “My girl here,” he says, nodding at me, “can handle herself.” Buck drags the guy back towards the empty hall before adding, “But you’ve been poking around, asking questions, and I’m here to answer them for ya.” Shoving him against the wall, Buck holds him there with his forearm across his throat. “You don’t belong to a club,” Rock says as he stands next to Buck. Tyler’s got the lumberjacks friends in another

corner. “We just like r-ridin’, man.” “Why are you asking about the Disciples? Asking questions that aren’t your goddamn business.” The man’s face drops and pales. I can practically hear his heart hammering in his chest. Buck is scary alone, but with his two scary friends behind him, they’re all three terrifying. “I-I―” the guy stutters, searching for something to say. “I-uh...” Standing at the end of the hall, I watch Buck work, questioning the guy within an inch of his life. With every wrong answer the man gives, Buck presses his arm harder, squeezing what little air is left in the man out. The

dude’s a bumbling fuck-wit. He can’t come up with a lie that’ll satisfy Buck, so he’s stumbling over his words, and it only seems to make Buck angrier. “You-you-you,” Buck mocks him, mimicking his panicked stammer. “You better get to fuckin’ talking.” Dropping his arm away from his throat, the guy stumbles forward, grabbing at his neck. “We were just wonderin’, that’s all,” he coughs. “Didn’t mean nothin’.” “You guys hear this shit,” Buck yells to Tyler and Rock. “You believe the shit this guy says, babe?” He laughs, turning his eyes on me. I’m not sure what to say so I shrug and shake my head once. This guy might

be soft as cotton while Buck’s here, but I have no doubt he wouldn’t have been so soft with me. In one swift move, Buck reaches back and brings his fist forward. It all happens in a blur. One minute the guy is upright, stumbling over the lies spilling from his mouth, and the next he’s slumped against the wall, clutching at his stomach. “Should we kill him?” Rock chuckles, sounding like a kid in a candy store. “Nah. Don’t feel like digging a hole tonight,” Buck says with a shrug. But he pulls his gun anyway and puts it to the guy’s temple. Shit’s getting real. “Just because I’m being nice and

not scaring my girl over there, doesn’t mean I won’t put a bullet in your head next time. Remember that shit and share it with whatever asshole sent you here to ask questions. You feel me, motherfucker?” The guy’s head bobs vigorously, but it stops dead when Buck smacks him in the mouth. The metal of the revolver connects with skin and teeth in an ugly sound. “Answer me, asshole! “Y-yes,” he says as he groans, gripping his face now bloody face. “Good.” Buck sounds mildly satisfied, if not still a little blood thirsty. Wiping his gun with the lumberjack’s shirt, Buck mutters,

“Fuckin’ asshole got blood all over my goddamn gun.” Dragging it down the guy’s chest, he wipes it clean. “Jesus Christ.” Stuffing it back into the waist of his jeans, Buck dusts his hands off as he makes his way towards me. He stops and grabs my hand, “I’m ready to get the fuck out of here, and I’m hungry, so let’s go.” Tossing one last look over my shoulder at the lumberjack, I give a satisfied smile. He got what he deserved. “What are you hungry for?” I ask. Buck just gives me a dirty little smile and mouths, “Something good.”

7 - Bed Crasher Buck Standing in the living room, staring down at the couch, I wonder how the fuck we got here. Lennon’s laid out on it, passed out and looking comfortable. I’m standing over her, watching her sleep peacefully with an old oversized T-shirt. It’s pushed up, barely covering her tits, and a pair of black panties covering her big ass. After this fucked up night, this is the last thing I need. “Fuck.” Running a hand through my hair, I give it second and decide I’m back in my room. Lennon’s riding the couch tonight.

Standing in my room, staring down at my bed, I start to feel like a goddamn trespasser. All this isn’t really mine anymore, now that Lennon has rolled around in it, making it hers. But I’m not sleeping on the floor, and I’m not putting my hands on her to move her, so I don’t have much of a choice. Throwing back the sheets, I get nothing but Lennon—pineapple, coconut, and all things fruity—hit me in the face, filling my nostrils with her scents. She smells like a damn fruit stand, and it smells so fucking good.

You know that moment between being asleep and waking up? That place you

linger until your body fully wakes up and your brain fights for more sleep? Yeah, I didn’t get that fucking luxury. Peeling my eyes open, I see a set of brown eyes staring at me. Lennon’s face is only a few feet from mine. She’s lying on her side, her legs curled up, and her hands clasped in front of her chest, watching me fucking sleep. “The fuck you doing?” “I heard something,” she whispers, gnawing on her lip, “and it woke me up.” “What’d ya hear?” I ask, shifting farther away from her half-naked body. Lennon’s not making my life any easier showing up in my bed, missing half her clothes.

“Footsteps.” Footsteps? Could’ve been the wind, or a wild animal. Jesus, it feels like I just fell asleep. I’m not about to haul my ass out of bed to go and investigate. The front door’s locked. “Probably raccoons,” I tell her, rolling onto my back and throwing an arm over my tired eyes. Up here in these parts, it’s pretty common for an animal to come wandering up to the house. “No, they were real footsteps,” she insists, completely sure of herself. “Like people footsteps.” Sitting up, she scoots closer to me. I can feel her hovering close, looking down at me. Her small fingers curl around my wrist, tugging my arm from my face.

“Buck.” “You’re not gonna go back to bed, are ya? Not until I go check, right?” “Right.” She’s got to be shitting me. Tipping my head back, I look at the glowing red numbers on the alarm clock. Two in the goddamn morning. “Really?” “Please, Buck.” That please right there is bad news, like goddamn kryptonite. Shaking my head, I heave myself from my warm, comfortable as fuck bed. Jerking my cold jeans from the floor, I tug them on, slip on my boots, and stomp towards the door. “You comin’?” I ask. She’s standing behind me, hovering close to my back.

“Yeah.” Jesus. I walk out the door and stand on the porch, giving the yard a scan. I don’t see a damn thing that looks out of place. “You see anything?” She asks, peeking around me to look out into the woods. “Yeah, saw a man wearing a hockey mask and swinging my axe, and he’s headed this way.” Her mouth pops open and her eyes narrow. “You’re not funny.” “Two in the morning makes me fucking cranky, babe.” “I swear I heard something.” She mutters, walking away towards the end of the porch. What the hell? Grabbing her arm, I stop her before her bare feet

hit the dirt. “What the hell are you doing?” I don’t think there’s anyone out there, but I don’t know that shit for sure. “Going to check.” I don’t fucking think so. She might have really heard footsteps, and the last thing I need is for her to be snatched off the porch in the middle of the night. “The fuck you are,” I tell her, shoving her ass back towards the door. “Are you high? You don’t go walking around out here in the middle of the night.” I swear to God, she has no damn clue. “Jesus, Lennon.” Sighing, she smiles and walks back into the house. “Okay.” Following behind her, I shut and lock the door.

“There ain’t shit out there, babe.” Well, there isn’t shit out there I can do anything about at this very moment. If I hear something, then it’s a whole different story. Lennon seems content with my answer, so damn satisfied that she doesn’t even bother to stop at her couch. In fact, she walks right into the bedroom, sits on the bed, picks up the blanket and throws it over herself. “We having a slumber party?” I ask her, gesturing at her body in my bed. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I watch her make herself right at home. “I don’t want to sleep alone,” she informs me. “Why?”

Turning over onto her side, she shrugs one shoulder. “I like being by your big body.” My big body? “I feel safe when you’re around.” “You think if someone breaks in here, I’m gonna jump in front of a bullet for your ass?” I’m not sure why I’m even asking. She knows goddamn well I will. That shit’s just in my nature. “Yes,” she says without hesitation, which isn’t surprising. She can see right through me. “You sleep in here then, I’ll take the couch.” If it makes her feel better and makes her go to sleep, then I’m down. Whatever it takes to get me back to sleep. Standing, her hand latches onto my arm, stopping me.

“No ... stay, please?” I’m trying to be nice by letting her stay here, letting her have my bed, a bed I’m pretty damn fond of. I’m trying to be accommodating here, but Lennon’s not helping. “No,” I say as I peel her hand off my arm. I’m not trying to fuck about right now. The last thing either of us need is to be sleeping in the same bed. I may have a real hard time keeping my hands to myself. It just isn’t gonna work. “If you go to the couch, I’ll sleep on the floor by you.” she states firmly. If she wants to sleep on the floor, I’m not gonna fight her on it. “You do what makes you happy,

babe.” “Come on, Buck. I’ll sleep over here,” she says, scooting towards the edge of the bed, lying almost hanging off the side. “Please.” I’m too fucking tired for this shit. “Fuck. Scoot your ass over. Don’t need you falling out.” Grabbing her ankle, I jerk her back towards the middle. I don’t want her falling off in the middle of the night and cracking her skull on the nightstand, waking me up with her bitching and whining. “But if you wake up with a dick in your ass, don’t go bitching at me,” I warn her before lying back down. I’m not being held accountable for the shit I may or may not do in my sleep, and that

goes for my dick too. “Thank you.” So sweet and so goddamn annoying. “Yeah, babe, now shut up and go to sleep.”

A hand landing on my chest wakes me up, startling the hell out of me. I’m hot and uncomfortable, but fuck, I was sleeping hard. Rolling my head to the side, I see a head full of black hair and a tan body too goddamn close to mine. If I was on my side, I’d wake her up with a hard slap to her ass. Picking up her tiny hand, I throw it back over at her. “Stop,” she groans from under her pillow, kicking me at the

same time. “Stop what?” I ask, shoving her legs back over to her side of the bed with my foot. This king size bed is starting to feel awfully fucking small. “Waking me up.” “Payback, babe.” Slapping her ass hard, I wake her up. If I’m not sleeping, then neither is she. “Get your ass outta bed unless you wanna stay here all day. I’m leaving and I won’t be back for a while.”

Lennon “You have a truck,” I muse, staring curiously at Buck wh’s unlocking an old black Chevy I had yet to notice until this very minute. I guess Buck kinda looks like a truck guy too. Bike, definitely, but a truck works for him. Buck likes to start early, and I mean way too early. The sun is just starting to peek over the trees and the chill is still in the air from the night. Hell, the birds aren’t even up yet. Waking me up with an ass slap was a special kind of wake-up call this morning, but at least he followed it up with juice and a donut. Standing on the other side of the giant shop under an old carport, I watch him, head down, jamming a key into the

truck door, grumbling while he works. Looks like Buck could have used a few more hours of sleep. Today he isn’t wearing his glasses. I like it. “You’re real observant this morning.” “It’s all that cuddling I got last night. It makes me extra perceptive,” I respond sweetly. Shaking his head, I catch him smiling. I think he might like me today. It’s a little tiny like, but it’s there. Popping the door open, he jumps in with ease. Firing the truck up, he gets comfortable, waiting for me to do the same. Jerking the door open, I gawk up at the space between the ground and

floor of the truck. It must be four feet. I formulate a plan of attack to get into this beast. “The fuck you waiting on, darlin’?” Buck taunts through the open door, eyes impatient, unfortunately irritated. Okay, so maybe he doesn’t like me today. “Just looking for the ladder, Sasquatch.” Grabbing onto the seat for support, I give it a go. One leg up is followed by a second. A little jump and I’m hefting myself up and in. I barely make it inside without falling back out and onto my ass. Well, there’s my work out for the day. “Very smooth,” Buck chuckles, watching me struggle. A hand would’ve been appreciated.

“Eh, I’m a woman of many talents,” I tell him, getting comfortable in the old leather seat. “So, why are we truckin’ it around today?” I like the bike, like, really like it. “Got shit to pick up.” “Like?” Smiling wickedly at me, he mouths, “Bodies.” “Oh, what fun! You sure know how to show a girl a good time.” I lean forward, fingers on the radio dial. “You mind?” “Have at it, crazy woman.” He mutters under his breath. Can’t argue with that. This truck is old ... I’d say seventies old. It’s still nice, but still old.

There’s only a standard AM/FM radio in here. Flipping through stations, I land on some classic rock. That’ll work. “Leave it,” he instructs, pushing my hand away from the dial. “Good pick.” “Why thank you.” At least he likes my choice of music, not that I had much of choice. Only two stations come in up here, country and classic rock. Tearing down the mountain, I watch Buck out the corner of my eye while he drives. He looks so serious, so stern, with one hand wrapped around the steering wheel, the other thrown casually over the back of the bench seat. His eyes are straight ahead as he watches the road with such seriousness. Serious sexiness. ‘Midnight Rider’ fades from the

radio, replaced by ‘Crazy.’ If that isn’t a sign, I don’t know what is. Sneaking a look at me, Buck lifts a brow and says, “Wow.” Wow indeed. Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, he keeps beat with the music as he drives intently to the very apt song. My eyes have a mind of their own today. He’s wearing a blue T-shirt under his cut, beat up jeans, and boots. His hair and beard are out of control, and he’s still not sexy in that normal sexy way, but I just can’t stop staring at him. “You’re staring, darlin’.” I am. I’m staring hard. “You’re not wearing your glasses,” I point out. In fact, they’re nowhere to be

seen today. They’re not on his head or stuffed in his pocket. Shrugging his shoulder, he looks over at me and replies, “Trying something new today.” “I like it.” I do. I really, really like it. “Sure, babe.”

“Lennon, what the fuck are you doing?” Buck hollers as he comes stomping around the corner and down the aisle towards me. I’m never alone for longer than three minutes when he’s around. He’s always right there, getting on my ass about something. Jim’s Bait, Tackle, and In Between

is an awfully intense ‘hardware, everything a guy could want’ store. I’ve browsed guns, shovels, and fishing poles, and now I’m almost bored to tears. This is our last stop, hopefully. So far today we’ve had breakfast, stopped eight million times at every place in between, and now we’re here. Never, ever will I go to a hardware store with this man again. Two fucking hours we’ve been here. He’s wandered and he’s browsed for three gas cans, an axe head, rope, odds and ends, and six giant plastic tubs. The tubs you ask? They’re for ice to keep the beers cold, obviously. The rest of the shit is for the bodies he’s burying later, I guess.

We’re here for party supplies, yet nothing he’s buying, aside from the beer tubs, seems partyish to me, but what do I know? “What are you doing?” He repeats, stopping directly in front of me and waits for me to open my mouth. “Trying to find things to kill you with,” I tell him as I pick up a machete, pretending to Jason Voorhees him to death with it. His forehead wrinkles and he lifts a questioning brow. Clearly he’s not amused. Reaching a big tattooed hand out, he takes the machete from me and sets it in the bin with the others and tells me, “You’re the weirdest woman I have ever fucking met.” If that was meant as an insult, it didn’t work.

“I resent that remark,” I call after him, laughing to myself. He’s always just so serious, so angry. It’s impossible not to give him shit. “Jesus.” I hear him mutter to himself as he walks off, disappearing into another aisle. “You love me,” I argue after him. He must a little or he would’ve kicked me to the curb a few days ago. He stops the second the words leave my mouth. Right, he’s a biker. He doesn’t love anything but his bike and brothers. Now he’s going to dwell on the pointless words. “Relax, big guy. I was joking.” I walk to him and grab his arm, tugging him towards the registers to distract him from the love he definitely

doesn’t feel for anything, other than things with the Harley logo on them. I have to get out of here before I really do kill him. “So, what’s the rope and other shit for?” I ask, motioning towards the crap he’s got in his hand. “To kill you with.” Clearly we both have issues that need tending to. “Fantastic. Can I go the party before the killing?” I really like parties. It’d be a shame to miss the shindig because I was dead. Loading his shit onto the counter, he shrugs. “Sure, why the fuck not.” “Why thank you.” He’s just so kind. Following Buck through the store and back out the sliding glass doors, I

watch the people we pass watch him. Most people give him a wide berth with their heads down, while some gawk from a safe distance. Others hightail it in the opposite direction. It’s fascinating the way people treat a man in a cut, cautiously and carefully, like he might explode at any moment. People avoid what they don’t know or what makes them uncomfortable. It’s just the way of the world. It’s no wonder Buck and his brothers don’t live in this world. Tailgate open with my ass planted on it, Buck load his many purchases into the back of the truck, flinging bags and boxes into the back. “I think you got everything you need. Hell, you practically bought out

the store,” I muse, staring at his loot. “Yeah, I think so.” He nods once. Yeah, fifteen hundred dollars later, I’m sure he’s good. I watch him jump from the bed of the truck, down and back up again, loading his beloved beer bins. Those he treats kindly. God knows we can’t party without ice-cold beers. Tires squealing turn both our heads from the loading. Red and blue are the first things I see, and that’s never good. A cop car creeps into the lot with officers staring out the window, straight in our direction. Buck instantly stiffens, his hand going uneasily for his beard. It’s a nervous tick. “Fuck ... fuck!” he mutters under his

breath. Each fuck grows increasingly angry out of his mouth as he starts to pace the parking space. “What’s wrong?” I ask. Jerking to a stop, he looks at me and frowns. Uh oh. “Parole.” Oh yeah, fuck is right. The cop car grows closer and Buck starts fidgeting even more, touching his pockets, searching for something. He pats at his chest and frowns, “Fuck, my gun.” Yeah, triple fuck. I do what any level-headed, soundminded friend would do. Distract. Fisting Buck’s shirt, I jerk him to me, right between my knees. “Come here.” His body is hard and unforgiving against mine. Wrapping my arm around his neck, I pull his face to mine. His eyes

are crazy wide, and confused as hell. “Go with it,” I whisper, letting my body and lips melt into his. Mouth to mouth, I smash my lips to his. It’s rough and wild, and believable. I put on a show, letting my hands roam from the waist of his jeans, up under his shirt to his chest. I try damn hard not to enjoy this. I’m just helping a friend out here, that’s all. Buck’s scratchy beard rubs on my skin, his lips soft on mine, and his rough hands are on my thighs. If this were real, I would say it’s so fucking good. “Babe,” he growls against my mouth in what sounds like a strangled protest. Ignoring him, I feel for his gun. Fuck, I can’t find it.

Wrapping my legs around his hips, I pull him closer for better access. Body to body. Chest to chest. Face to face. My fingers skim metal and I sag with relief. Jerking the gun from his holster, I pull it from under his shirt. Between our bodies, I slip it into the waist of my jeans, all while Buck gropes me. He has one hand in my hair, the other on my thigh, fingers creeping. His mouth is devouring mine. Every hard, stiff inch of Buck that can reach me presses even closer and I almost lose control. “Mr. Walker,” a man barks sternly in our direction. It’s said like a curse, but Buck doesn’t stop. He’s literally

consuming me. A throat clears and a car door slams, and sadly, the magic is broken. There’s reluctance in his kiss. He doesn’t want to stop, but he has to ... we have to. Public indecency is a punishable crime after all, and I’m sure the cop is looking for reasons to harass Buck more. Breaking away from my mouth, his forehead drops to my chest and he groans. Under my hand, I can feel the heavy beat of his heart. He’s as worked up as I am. “Fuck, Lennon.” Fuck is right. Tipping my head around Buck, I see the cop staring at him disgust. He’s sneering and his eyes are narrowed. Buck and him aren’t friends, I gather.

“Officer,” Buck growls, standing up straight. Turning around, he leans back in between my thighs, shielding me with his body. “What do you want?” “Saw you were in the neighborhood. Thought I’d roll on by to make sure things were good with you.” “Shit’s peachy,” he answers, crossing his arms defensively across his chest. “Nothing worth stopping by to see.” “Well, that’s for me to decide now, isn’t it? A man on parole is worth seeing, wouldn’t you say? Worth a pat down?” He’s taunting him. “Do your job, officer.” “Plan on it.” Looking Buck up and down, the cop

seems to be sizing him up, seeing if he’s worth patting down. Once he’s done with Buck, his stare slides from him to me, and he gives me charming smile. His eyes are the size of saucers as he stares at my legs wrapped around Buck, ankles crossed in front. “Ma’am, everything all right?” he asks me. Sliding my arms around Buck’s neck, I lean my chin on his shoulder and smile sweetly at the cop. “Yep.” “You be careful with this one,” he says, jerking his chin at Buck. “It’s Buck who should be careful,” I purr, giving him a winning smile. “What’s your name?” The bulge in his blue state-used trousers is growing

by the minute. He likes me ... he really likes me. “Trouble,” I say in a singsong voice, giving him a wink. This guy is too easy, like putty in my hands. Laughing, he shakes his head. The cop thinks I’m funny. Leaning in, I kiss Buck’s neck, letting my tongue linger on his skin while I watch the officer’s pupils dilate. He likes watching me. Buck’s hand moves to my thigh and tightens. “Babe,” he growls quietly in a warning. He should be on his knees kissing my goddamn feet. I just saved his ass from possible jail time with my distraction tactics. “Well, Trouble, be careful.” Looking back to Buck, he nods stiffly,

his eyes narrowing in a warning, “I’m watching you, Mr. Walker.” The cop gives him a final once over before getting back in his car and driving off. The car disappears and Buck sags into me, sighing, rubbing at his beard roughly. “Fuckin’ hate that guy,” he mutters. “Why? I kinda like him. He seemed sweet,” I tease. Buck turns, eyes blazing as he pushes back between my thighs.

8 - Lover Boy Buck “Don’t stop now,” I growl, completely fucking frustrated. Torture isn’t even the half of it. I knew once I got my hands on her sexy fucking body, there’d be no going back. Shit just got real fucking complicated. “Oh yeah? You think this is going somewhere?” Lennon motions between me and her. There’s a devious smile on her juicy lips. Fuck yeah, she knows it is. Grind yourself all over me and watch me take that shit to the next level. “Fuck yeah. I’m gonna go as far as you let me.” If she gives me an inch, I’m taking a goddamn mile. I’m gonna take

her all the way there. Smiling, she shakes her head like I’m kidding. She thinks I’m joking. There’s nothing remotely funny about this shit. You can only push a man so far before he breaks. Pushing my way back between her plump tattooed thighs, I make myself right the fuck at home. Lennon’s little hand lands on my chest, stopping me before I can get started again. She tasted good, so goddamn good. Pushing on my chest she rolls her eyes and bats my other hand away from her leg. “Back up, lover boy.” There’s not a chance in hell of that now. I’m going to be all up in her personal space as much as I fucking can be after that little stunt.

“You fucking started this,” I tell her, cupping my dick, which is aiming right at her. This shit is painful. “Yeah, I did,” she smirks, proud of herself. “And I saved your ass in the process,” she adds a little more seriously, pulling the gun out from under her shirt. Hell yeah, she did. Jumped right into that shit, helping my ass out without hesitating. Backing off, I give her a little room. “Yeah, you did, darlin’. I really appreciate it,” I tell her with all honesty, taking my gun back from her. “Eh, no biggie.” She waves me off, looking smug as fuck. In my book, that was huge. She put herself on the line for

me, and that shit makes us fucking golden. “You didn’t have to do that shit.” “We’re friends. That’s what friends do.” I’m thanking my lucky stars she thinks of me as a friend. If I would’ve gotten a pat down by that asshole, he would’ve found an unregistered gun on a felon with weapons charges. I would be on my way back to the Pen instead of lunch with her. “So yeah, big deal, Lennon.” That shit she did for me was cool as fuck. Kevin Kramer, or Officer Dick Face as he’s affectionately known as around the club, has had a hard-on for me ever since I got out on parole almost five years ago. My time on government

supervision is almost up and he’s starting to get antsy, looking for reasons to toss me back in to finish my sentence. Little prick has nothing better to do with his time. “So, what did you do?” she asks easily, clearly not that damn concerned. I could be a serial killer for all she knows. “Time for weapons. Let out early for good behavior.” Just saying that shit makes me sick to my fucking stomach. “Fun,” she mutters, jumping down from tailgate, completely unfazed. Yeah, it was a fucking blast. Hated that place, which I’m sure most motherfuckers do. It sure wasn’t a vacation. Wrapping an arm around my waist,

Lennon tugs me towards the driver’s side of the truck. Smiling brightly, she sings, “Let’s go, lover boy. I must be fed after such a make out session.”

Lennon’s not big, but she’s not tiny either. I didn’t take her for a four taco kinda broad. The woman eats like a grown man. I’m not sure where she puts it all, probably her big tits or plump ass. Sitting in a gravel parking lot in front of a taco truck, we’re eating on the tailgate. Drove by and she all but flung herself out the window to get to the tacos. I looked at her like she was fucking insane, and all she had to say was, “I love tacos.” Yeah, I gathered as

much. She put herself out there for me, so I figured the least I could do was buy the woman some tacos. If she wants twenty of them, I’ll buy her twenty, and she’s appreciative, telling me thank you a few times and smiling at me. For her, it’s the little things. Lennon has shoveled in three tacos so far and I don’t see her stopping anytime soon. With her fourth in hand, she has a fifth in the bag on her lap, and a thing of hot sauce in the other hand. “Jesus, Lennon, you’re eating them like they’re about to run away from you.” I watch her take a huge bite, bigger than her mouth can fit. With her mouth stuffed full, she grins and lifts her

shoulder. “I’m hunwy,” she mumbles around her food. Clearly. It’s not like I haven’t been feeding her. Twenty minutes and five tacos later, I think she’s down for the count. Throwing herself back in the bed of the truck, she moans, “I’m so full, and it’s so fucking hot out here.” “You always eat like you’re starving?” “Yes,” she groans and flops over on her stomach, head propped up her arms, looking at me curiously. I don’t know why she does that shit. I’m not some damn mystery. “Why is it as hot as hell out here?” she asks like I picked the temperature. “Summer, babe.” Is the only answer

I have for her. This far into the state seems to get hotter than the coast, not sure what she expected. “Gah.” I’ve met my fair share of women. Bitches of all kind, and I’ve never in my life met a broad like this one. Lennon is something different. Her and I, I think we can be friends. “So,” she starts and smirks. Here we go. “What’s your first name?” “Buck.” Rolling her eyes, she scoots up to her ass and bumps into me, smiling, trying to persuade me in her sweetest voice, “Come on, tell me your real name, pleeease.” Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my wallet and toss it to her. Her eager

little hands scoop it up and start digging through it. There’s no real secrets in there. I don’t hate my given name, nor do I really fucking care about it either. It’s just a name. Plucking out my ID, she eyes it, reading over my info. “Jackson Jay Walker,” she sings to herself. “I like it.” Something about her voice saying my name is hot as fuck, but she doesn’t stop there. “Male, thirty-four, Six-two, Two hundred and fifty-two pounds, lives at five hundred Mountain View Drive, Oregon.” Stopping mid ramble, she looks up at me and frowns. “Yeah?” “Your license expires in like, four months,” she says gravely.

“Thanks.” “You’re welcome, Jackson Jay Walker.” Giving her my name was a fucking mistake. “It’s my name. What about Lennon? That’s a weird fucking name.” I shift the subject to her while she fingers around in my wallet, digging out other shit. I live in the land of weird fucking names, but Lennon is strange for a given name for a chick. “It’s better than the alternative. I’m lucky my mom didn’t name me Moon Beam Shooting Star, or some shit. Try hollering that when you’re pissed,” she mutters, pulling out my cash and counting it. Absentmindedly, she adds, “I was named after famous rock stars. Lennon

after John Lennon of The Beatles, my middle name is Rose after Axl Rose from Gun ‘N Roses, and because my mother is a space cadet, she gave me my own special last name, Page, after Jimmy Page of Led Zeppelin.” Lennon Rose Page. It fits her perfectly. Looking up at me, she shrugs and adds, “We don’t even have the same last name.” Digging into people’s lives isn’t really my thing. I don’t want motherfuckers digging into mine, so I mind my own goddamn business, hoping they’ll stay the fuck outta mine. Lennon is living with me, and I just gotta know. “Since you seem to be in the sharing mood, wanna tell me why you’re

living here with me?” Nothing fazes her. She doesn’t even flinch when I ask. Lennon doesn’t say anything for a minute, just stares at me intently. I sense she’s working up a story. “Yo, Lennon?” “Not living.” She corrects me. She’s as living with me as living can be. It might not be permanent, but it’s living. “You’re sleeping in my bed, and your shit is all over my house. That’s living, babe.” “Vacationing,” she concedes. She can call it whatever she want’s, but it’s living. “So?” “Just needed a break from life—a place to hang back and regroup. Just had

to run away from it all, ya know?” Yeah, I know. I know that real well. For one long year I was a nomad. I turned over my Sergeant at Arms patch, picked up my shit, and hit the road. I lived on the run for a while with no place to settle ... no home. It was just my bike, the road, and myself. I would swing through different clubs, crash on a brother’s couch, and drop through to my pops’ place to visit. Hell, I’d throw my bedroll down and sleep in the fucking woods if I needed to. I know what it’s like to need to run. “Yeah, I feel ya.”

Back at the club, we regroup and get our

shit ready for this weekend, which from the sounds of it, is going to be out of fucking control, which is nothing new. “Think we got enough booze?” Dan asks. He’s stressing himself out. “Shipping container is full, man. Think we got enough,” I assure him. “Rooms?” Jesus, he’s going to give himself a fucking stroke if he doesn’t chill the fuck out. Of course we don’t have enough damn rooms. “Nah.” Laughing, he nods. There’s no goddamn way we’ve got enough rooms, but we’ll make space, we always do. Tents, campers, bedrolls. Hell, even pool lounging chairs will house the overflow. “Least three hundred people

comin’.” He speculates, sipping on a beer as he surveys the bar. I suspect more will be here, but I’m not about to worry the man more. “Good thing we got acres, brother.” Looking over my shoulder, I catch Lennon shooting pool with Rock. She’s laughing at him and that shit makes me real fucking happy. I’m glad she’s fitting in here. It could’ve been real bad if these asshole hated her. The brothers don’t take kindly to many people, especially strangers. “She workin’ out?” Dan asks, noticing me watching her. It’s working out in more ways than one. I hate to fucking admit it, but I’m kinda growing attached to the broad. Watching Lennon

bend over and take a shot, I suppress the groan working its way out, and the extreme dick adjustment needed just watching her fine ass. Goddamn it. “She’s okay,” I tell him, shrugging like I don’t give a fuck, but I really give more of a fuck than I care to admit. “Just okay? Not buyin’ your bullshit, kid.” Fuck, I hate when he calls me that. He might be twenty years older than me, but in biker years, that doesn’t mean a goddamn thing. We’ve all put in our time just the same. “Yeah, old man. Lennon’s cool. We’re getting along fine.” The front door smacks into the frame and I turn to see the cunt walking in like she owns the place, headed for

the bar. Fuck me. I have no time to escape. Jess sees me and deviates course, heading right for me. That itch to throw her out on her ass starts burning at my skin. The bitch deserves worse, but I know it’ll only piss Rock off, and that’s the last thing we need right now. Glancing back over at Lennon, I find her still playing pool, oblivious to the world around her. She’s always so easily content. Jess sees me look at Lennon and frowns. Instead of coming at me now, she passes right on by, headed for Lennon. Not happening. Grabbing onto her arm, I jerk her ass to a stop. She stumbles a little, but makes a show of it. “Hold up there.” Jess likes to cause

trouble, always has, and I suspect she always will. “What,” she snaps at me. She can throw all her bitchiness at me, because Lord knows I can take that shit, but she better keep it away from Lennon “Where the fuck you think you’re goin’?” I know she’s trying to stir the pot and cause some damn drama. I swear to fuck the bitch was born mean. She feeds off drama. There’s not a nice bone in that stupid bitches body. A slow ugly smile spreads across her factory made face. “Just wanna talk to your friend.” I’m sure she does. “Yeah, not gonna happen, nosy ass.” “Why?” She whines. She knows

why. Lennon’s tough, crazy, wild, and sweet. Jess is just mean and fucking nasty. I don’t want Jess letting her ugly shit rub off on Lennon. “Jess, I’m telling you now, you stay the fuck away from her. If you value your job and your cushy little life, you’ll leave Lennon the fuck alone. She isn’t any of your goddamn business.” I fucking hate the bitch and I want her as far away from Lennon as possible. “She your girl now,” she spits. She read way more into that than necessary. “She’s mine, and that’s all you need to know.” “She’s your old lady!” Jess wails, causing a scene, jerking from my hold. Everyone stops what they’re doing

and looks at us. Lennon looks up from the pool table and stares curiously at me. “Is that why you stopped wearin’ your glasses?” she screams. “That bitch tell you to stop wearin’ them?” Wow, that was a jump. I swear there are a few screws loose in that head of hers, but she isn’t far off either. Jess stops when she sees she’s right, then turns her attention back to Lennon. “Bitch, stay away from Buck.” Oh, you have got to be kidding me right now. “Jess, you better pack that shit in,” I tell her tersely. I’m not in the mood for her shit. “Fuck, you and her, Buck! You were mine first,” Jess cries. Yeah, I was.

I was her ATM, her punching bag, her meal ticket, her room and board, and her fucking doormat, just to name a few. Jess starts getting real crazy, screaming and accusing people of stupid shit. Lunging at Lennon, she screams, “I’m gonna fuck you up!” She wishes. Snatching her crazy up, I shove her ass at the door before she even gets close. “Out!” I holler, pushing her through the door. “Fuck you!” “No thanks.” Been there, done that, and never doing it again. Opening the door, I shove her crying, loud ass outside. “That was your one and only chance. There’ll be no more,” I tell her, looking at her mascara

stained face. “What are you thinking, Buck? We have history.” Nasty, scary, fucked up history. “Last chance, Jess. Next time I won’t be nice about it. You and me? There was, is, and never will be shit between us. You’re just a stupid, fucked up bitch, and that’s all there is and ever will be of you.” She starts to argue, but I shut her shit down. “Shut your mouth and get to gettin’.” Turning back towards the door, I open it and stop. I know the sneaky bitch is already scheming. Looking back at her, I tell her, “I’m not playing or joking. You stay the fuck away from her, and I

mean that.” Letting the door slam shut behind me, I see everyone is back to whatever it was they were doing before Jess started acting like a cunt. Lennon’s still playing pool with Rock, back to smiling and laughing, while Poncho watches them. Tyler and Mossy are drinking at the bar, but Dan is staring at me with a smirk on his face. Walking up to me, he nods, “Lennon is just okay, my ass,” he mutters. “She’s more than okay.” “Fuck you.

Lennon “That was fun,” I tell Buck as I sit down next to him at the bar. He has a beer in his hand and an unforgiving frown on his face. “Yeah, a fucking ball,” he growls, fiddling with his beer cap. There’s a stiffness in his shoulders that wasn’t there earlier. Jess obviously stresses him out something fierce. “She seemed really attached to you.” I state, choosing my words carefully. I get it. These guys usually aren’t tied down. I’ve seen men toss women out for less, but Buck was surprisingly tolerant of her, considering her level of crazy. “She’s old news.”

“Oh.” I want to ask, but I don’t. First, my momma taught me to mind my own damn business when it comes to other people’s relationships, and second, I highly doubt he would even tell me. “She’s mad because I’m staying with you.” I don’t ask. I could tell that’s what that insane woman was on about. She’s jealous, not that there’s anything to be jealous over. Buck and I ... I’m not even sure if we’re friends. “Babe, don’t worry about that bitch,” he says with all seriousness, turning on his stool to look at me. “I don’t want her conniving ass around you.” Okay, so maybe we are friends. “Okay, Buck.” I’ll take his word for it.

I ate my weight in tacos earlier and now we’re having drinks at the club, bar, motel, whatever it is, with all the guys after Jess’s shit show. Sitting around the old bar, I listen to them bullshit with each other, planning and plotting this party. It’s a big deal apparently—a huge deal. Stories of past parties are told over beers, laughter, and some mild embarrassment as I listen in complete enjoyment. These guys are wild and so my kind of humans. “I’m excited,” I tell no one in particular. No one is really talking to me, not that I’m being ignored, but I just

can’t keep my mouth shut. All heads turn in my direction, beers halt mid-drink. “Yeah?” Dan laughs, clearly not taking me seriously. “I love parties,” I tell them. Big or small, I love ‘em all. The people, the possibilities, the fun. “I don’t know, darlin’. This ain’t your normal kinda party,” Buck adds. Even better. Cocking my head, I give Buck the stare down. “Do I strike you as not being able to handle myself at a “normal party?” Mulling it over, he gives me a once over, sizing me up. “Nah.” That’s what I thought. I might be small, but I can throw down. “I can hang.” I assure him. I’ve

partied with the best of them. Pulled allnighters, done naked keg stands, beer bonged, toked, and seen some shit that’d make Keith Richards blush. “Yeah, you think so?” Buck laughs, enjoying giving me a hard time. He has no idea how much I can hang. “When I was sixteen...” I launch into a scandalously gory story about my youth that makes even Buck cringe and laugh, a real hardy laugh. God, I love the sound. “Yeah, darlin, you can party,” he concedes after my tale of youthful debauchery. His eyes light up, looking full of trouble.

Buck and his brothers wandered outside fifteen minutes ago, saying, “Shit to get done,” before heading for the door, but not before planting a beard-scratching kiss on my forehead. Weird but sweet, and so not a Buck thing to do. I’m sitting at the bar, munching on my fries when Tags sits himself next to me. Leaning an elbow on the bar top, he turns to me. “How’s shit goin’ up here with the asshole?” So far, we’re both still alive. I haven’t killed him and he hasn’t strangled me. I met Tags when I lived in Washington for a brief time, which now feels like eons ago. He’s a nice guy, always has been, and I suspect he

always will be. “Asshole, huh?” I joke. “Yup. Every club’s got one. We got a Rampage, and y’all got a Buck. Assholes,” he laughs. Buck is a tad bit of an asshole, but I’ve certainly met worse. “Good. Everyone’s been nice to me.” “Cool, babe. Glad shit’s workin’ out for ya here.” Me too. “Oh, hell no.” A female voice screeches through the room turning both our heads in the direction of the door. Tags head sags and he grumbles, “Fuck.” Twisting on my stool, I see a tall blonde bombshell, strutting into the room, heels clicking against the old floor.

Her eyes connect with mine and a grin spreads across her blood red lips. Oh Jesus, not another one. “Hello,” she sings sweetly, walking right up to me and effectively ignoring the man next to me. Wearing a tiny black skirt and a pair of heels only a circus performer could manage, she sits down next to me, crossing her legs gracefully under the bar top. “So your Buck’s woman,” she asks, flipping a piece of my hair over my shoulder playfully. “Umm, I don’t think so.” She obviously has the wrong chick. “Don’t look at me like that,” she laughs. “I’m not here to stake claim on him or pick you up. I’m Sammy, Dan’s

daughter,” she introduces herself with a big smile. Lilly mentioned her. Told me she was all lady on the outside, but all biker babe on the inside. She definitely looks like a lady on the outside. She has straight blonde hair, styled perfectly down her back, a pair of black stylish shades on her head, and a tight, crisp white tank top on. She’s the picture of elegance and beauty. “I’m Lennon,” I say, even though I have a feeling she already knows that. “So I’ve heard.” Still smiling, she waves her hand at the young guy behind the bar, silently demanding a drink. That’s another thing Lil had said, that she’s demanding.

“I know who you are. Jess mentioned you.” Oh boy. “Oh.” “Said you were trying to steal her man or something like that. Buck is not her man, she’s just too goddamn stupid to see it.” I’m not sure what to say to that, so I say nothing at all. Taking the glass the young guy sits in front of her, she throws it back in one long swallow. The then flicks her eyes over my shoulder at a quiet Tags. Slowly, her lip curls. “Samantha,” he growls. I feel stuck between the two, like a war is about to break out at any moment between them. “Why are you here?” she sasses, tapping her manicured fingers on the bar

top, clearly annoyed by his presence. “Why are you?” he counters as he stands. She’s on her feet immediately, staring him down. They’re face to face, angry as hell. “I don’t have to tell you shit, asshole,” she snaps. “This is my club.” “Your club?” “Yeah, dickhead, my club.” Turning back around in my seat, I try to ignore the war brewing between the two. Pretending not to listen lasts for five seconds before I’m peeking over my shoulder again. She glares at him for a beat before smoothing her face out into one of ladylike qualities; sweet smile and kind, agreeing eyes. Looking back at me, she

beams at me. “We’ll chat later, hun,” she purrs before she focuses back on Tags, and her smile melts clean off her face. “Babe.” “Sam,” she corrects him in a bitter tone. Turning on her heels, she marches off, hips rocking and hair swinging. Pointing a finger in the air, she yells, “Fuck you, Tags. Fuck you real hard!” “Don’t walk away from me, Sam.” “Fuck off,” she shouts, slamming the door in his face when he advances on her. Tags is right through it after her, slamming it himself. Well, that was interesting.

I got bored there at the bar alone after

my entertainment left, and when I get bored, I wander. When I wander, I tend to get into shit. That’s how I ended up here. I walked around the motel, heard voices, and I had to investigate. Now my ass is sitting in a rusted metal chair in a dark dank room. See? Trouble. I’d ask to flip on a light or two, but I’m pretty sure this is all the light they’ve got back here. One dingy hundred watt exposed bulb hangs from the ceiling. “Bet,” Tyler nods at my hand, kicking the leg of my chair. So here I am, hanging with the guys, Buck’s guys. Poncho invited me to sit in on a game of poker, and boredom caused me to agree. “Damn, woman, hurry the fuck up,”

Rock says in an encouraging grunt. I can barely see the cards in my hands to figure out what I even have to work with. Leaning back in my seat, I get back to counting before he loses his shit. Rock has zero patience I’m learning. Shifting my eyes around the table, I try to read their faces, but I don’t get shit. I’m terrible at poker―well, sometimes I am―or maybe it’s the booze making these numbers start to blur. I’m sitting in a small room off the back of the motel. I can’t help but to wrinkle my nose at the smell of smoke, stale beer, and piss. It’s stomach churning. “You need to clean this room up,” I mutter while staring down at my

cards. I’ve got five cards; a queen, two tens, a five, and a three, all clubs. “Flush.” I call, laying out my cards proudly. Winning. Collective groans come from the bunch of grown men, bitching like a bunch of girls over a game of cards. “Jesus Christ, remind me not to play with this girl again.” Rock sighs, tossing his cards down on the table like a big ass baby. “Beginners luck.” I shrug, scooping up my winnings before these guys try to take it back from me. “The fuck it is. You’re over here card sharking our asses,” Tyler hollers, slapping his hands on the table, making the chips jump.

Maybe. “This bitch,” Poncho points at me laughing, “is fuckin’ us.” “I would never.” Again, maybe, just a small fuck. “Me?” Sitting up in my chair, I start counting my winnings; twenty, thirty, forty. “Come on, boys. Little ol’ me, fuckin’ y’all? Nah.” I asked to play and it only took one game of convincing before I was betting in. I might have been invited by Poncho, but it still took convincing. They thought I would be easy prey, but they thought wrong. “Yes you, little girl, are fuckin’ us. Bendin’ us over ‘n stickin’ it to us,” Rock chuckles. I think I like these guys.

“Its just luck,” I claim, which is a lie. A big, fat, fucking lie. “Here,” Rock says, shoving an unlabeled bottle towards me. “Drink this. Let’s get down ‘n dirty, baby doll.” Two hours and a handful of games later, the bets have changed from cash to random pieces of clothing. I’m buzzed, my cards went from blurry to nonexistent. Rock has run out of money and has resorted to clothes. Tyler’s drunk and funny, and Poncho is high, making frequent snack breaks. The game is getting interesting until the door meets the wall with a whack. “The fuck ya doin’? Why is there a shoe and a shirt on the table?” Buck bellows, looking right at me. Jesus,

they’re not my clothes on the table. I’m still fully dressed. “We’re playin’ a few friendly games of poker ‘n drinkin’, fuckface.” Tyler says, lifting up his cup. Buck looks at everyone, then back to me. “They let you play?” Yes, they did. Why the hell wouldn’t they? “Yes. Is there a problem with that?” I ask, sorting out my cards. “Girls don’t sit in.” “Well, I’ve got a vagina, and I’m sitting in.” Buck stands there staring at me. This is weird for him, I can tell. Getting up, I pat my seat. “Sit.” He hesitates, but finally sits down. Following suit, I plop my ass back down

on his lap. “Buck’s on my team,” I declare. “Babe, your team? Seriously?” he laughs. “Fuck yeah. Play with me.”

The ground shakes and bounces under me. My blood throbs to the beat of my heart in my skull. My unfocused floating eyeballs make it hard to focus on the ground below my head. My stomach is smashed and queasy. This is fun ... “Buck, if you don’t put me down, I’m gonna throw up on you,” I warn. I’m not really going to puke on the man, not yet anyways. I drank while playing poker, but not that damn much. I know

how far to go and when I need to slow down. I got this shit down to a science. “Whatever,” Buck grunts, obviously not concerned. He doesn’t stop. He just keeps marching through the gravel lot. He doesn’t believe me? That’s fine. I make an obnoxious puking sound and it works. Buck sets my bare feet on the gravel, but he doesn’t look happy about it. “Thank you,” I mutter dryly, situating my shirt. He scowls at me with his tattooed arms crossed over his chest, his lips straight and serious. After I cleaned house at poker, had some more drinks, and continued to sit around and bullshit with the guys, Buck had reached his

limit. “Told you it was time to go an hour ago.” One minute Buck’ happy, enjoying himself, then he turns grumpy. Hot and cold. “Yeah, I got that when you chucked me over your shoulder in the middle of a game.” “I’m tired. Don’t have time to watch you play with your new friends. I wanna go home and relax.” “Buck―” I hardly get the words out before he’s on me again. Man, he’s handsy tonight. Turning me towards his bike, he wraps his hands around my sides and picks me up, sitting my ass on the seat. “I’m ready to go,” he growls, eyes firm

and serious “And when I’m ready to go, you are ready to fucking go. You got me, babe?” “Fine,” I huff. Arguing with him just doesn’t seem worth it since I’m out here and already on his bike. Flopping my chucks down in the dirt next to him, he sets about putting my shoes on, grumbling about it the entire time. If he hates it so much, I have no clue as to why he’s even bothering with them. Man, he needs to get laid. There’s a fun man in there under all that mean, smart-mouthed biker. “When we get home, can we cuddle?” I tease him. He looks up, but he doesn’t look amused. “No.”

“Pleeeease.” He thinks I’m drunk and treating me like a two-year-old. I’m hardly drunk, but I’m not going to stop him. “Buck, please? Pretty, pretty, pretty please? ” I can do this all night. I have a lot of pleases saved up. “Jesus. Will you shut the fuck up?” “Will you cuddle with me?” I counter with laugh. He’s so easy to wind up. I swear his head may just explode right off his shoulders with how hard he’s glaring. “Come on. I really need a good cuddle.” “No you don’t,” he says quietly. His resolve is starting to crack. “I might die if you don’t cuddle with me.”

“I’ll start digging you a hole then.” Oh, he’s so hilarious. “This is no time to joke, Buck. I need a fucking cuddle.” Twisting my waist, he throws one of my legs over the other side of the bike so I’m straddling the seat. He’s done with fun and games tonight. Scooting me back on the seat, he makes room and crawls on in front of me, fires up his bike, and looks over his shoulder at me with a frown and a touch of a humor when he says, “I’ll do anything to shut you up.”

9 - Two Foot Rule Buck Standing on the porch, listening to Dan yack down the line, I stare out into the yard, watching the goddamn grass grow. Phone to my ear, I lean against the railing, waiting for him to finish his long-winded story. Some money has come up missing. It isn’t a fuck ton, a couple grand, but enough to catch his attention. No matter the amount, motherfuckers do not steal from us and live to tell about it. “Uh huh,” I confirm I understand him. I swear the man can talk your damn ear off. “Yeah, I hear you. If it shows, we’ll deal with it, but until then, the last

couple sets of hands that touched it are suspect.” He agrees, but not before ranting some more. Swear to fuck, I’m the only voice of reason around here sometimes. I enjoy a fight as much as the next man, but we can’t just go around accusing members, jumping on everyone without reason. We’ll look like fools. Shit like this gets out to other clubs, they’ll think our club is coming apart at the seams. We cannot have that shit. “Another cent comes up missing, I’ll start asking questions.” And by asking, I mean beating the answers outta people. “But until then, we watch and we wait, strike when we know for sure.” It’s August up here in the mountains, which means hot days and

cooler nights. It’s getting late and it’s starting to cool off, thank fuck, but standing in the setting sun, I can still feel the hot rays on my back. Finishing his rant, I tell him what I know, which isn’t much. “Listen, that money is somewhere. That shit didn’t grow legs and walk off. Someone has to know something. We’ll figure it out, even if we’ve gotta remove body parts to get our answers.” But there isn’t shit I can do about it right now. “Relax tonight, and tomorrow we’ll start doing some shakedowns.” “Ow ... Fuck!” Lennon yelps from inside of the house, taking my attention away from Dan’s words when I almost drop the phone.

“Dan, I gotta go.” Hanging up, I shove the phone into my pocket and take off into the house, stopping at the kitchen where I find her howling, flapping an arm around like a goddamn bird. Her hand’s in the air and blood’s running down her hand and arm. Lennon’s searching cabinets hysterically, babying her bloody appendage. “The fuck happened?” “I think I chopped my finger off,” Lennon cries. Fucking Christ. Frantically digging around the shelves, she’s knocking shit out all over the damn place. Salt and pepper fall to the floo, followed by a box of cereal. “Shit!” she howls, looking up at her hand and begins to sway. She looks like she’s

ready to pass out. Grabbing her wrist, I stop the flapping, which is only making a mess. Pulling it to my face, I do a quick assessment. A slice runs from the tip of her finger, down the pad. It’s deep, but not stitches deep. “Buck,” she groans. Her face is turning green, and those big brown eyes are wide and weary. Without thinking, I pop that shit in my mouth, anything to get her to calm her ass down and keep her from dropping on me. Sucking hard, I hope to hell that it stops bleeding long enough to get something on it. Pulling her finger out of my mouth, her eyes are the size of saucers, and she

shivers. “Hold it up,” I tell her, ripping my shirt up over my head when she takes her arm back and shoves it in the air. I wrap her finger in my shirt and tug her along after me, towards the bathroom. “What were you even looking for in the kitchen?” “Band-Aids.” “In the kitchen?” “That’s where I would keep ‘em. I mean, that’s where a lot of sharp shit’s kept, like knives,” she adds. Well, she’s got me there. “I’ll put some damn Band-Aids in there then.” In case she wants to lop another finger off. Sitting her on the edge of the bathtub, I grab the box of from the

medicine cabinet, where one would usually keep those sorts of things. “But for future reference, they’re in here.” I sit her hand, palm side up, on my thigh. “What were you cutting?” I ask, looking at the angry red slice. “I was making you a sandwich,” she mumbles sadly, looking like I kicked her puppy. “Were you cutting the sandwich while it was in your hand?” She doesn’t answer, telling me what I need to know. “Fuck, Lennon. Don’t do that shit again.” Cleaning the cut with some alcohol, I wipe away the blood. “We’ve got cutting boards for that.” I know she’s watching me ... not what I’m doing, but she’s looking

intently at me. Wrapping a Band-Aid around her finger, I back the fuck up and outta her space before I start getting even closer. “There, should be good.” Looking her finger over, she smiles. “Thanks, Buck.” “Yep, now just rest, babe. No more cutting shit tonight.” I tell her as I’m walking out the door. Halfway down the hall, I yell back, “What kinda sandwich?” Sticking her head out the door, she snorts. “A BLT.” I’ll go finish what she started then.

I find her in my space not more than

thirty minutes later, sitting with her legs under her ass in the middle of the bed, injured hand cradled in her lap. Her eyes are on the TV and she’s singing along, loudly, to some theme song. “You’re feelin’ that show, aren’t ya?” Nodding, she keeps singing about thanking someone for being a friend. “Yep.” “What is it?” “Golden Girls,” she laughs and continues along with her singing. I took a shower after I played doctor and of course, I should’ve known I’d find her in here. She wants to cuddle. Just the word makes me queasy. “So, is this gonna be a thing now? Thought it was a one-time deal.” Second

night now she’s been in here with me. I gave her the couch at first, then I took it back. Gave her last night because I was too tired to argue, but tonight? No, not fucking happening. “I don’t like sleeping alone,” she says in all seriousness. “And you think it’s a good idea we keep sharing this bed? I’m a man, Lennon. I can only take so much of your body near mine.” It’s the goddamn truth. I have self-control, but each passing day with Lennon, I’m losing it, little by little. Apparently she doesn’t get that this shit is hard on me. Not only is she in my life, she’s making friends at the club, living in my house, and sleeping in my

bed. All that shit makes an already hard situation even harder. I’m trying like hell not to like this broad, but she’s not trying to make it easy on me. “I’m sorry. I just like being by you,” she says, her smile dropping clean off her face. Now I feel like a fucking dick. I’m having a hard time believing this isn’t some game, or joke. Maybe it’s my deep seeded trust issues that are keep me from just letting Lennon hang around me without questioning her. I just have a hard time believing that she wants to be around me. I’m not a terrible guy, but I’m not the greatest either, and her wanting to be around me has me distrusting her motives. It’s hard to let someone in,

especially a stranger who is trying hard to be a friend. “Scoot your ass over, babe.” Not sure how much more of her half-naked body next to mine I can take before I do something I’ll regret. “How old are ya?” I ask, anything to stop my mind from running away from me. We’ve been lying here for about an hour, and it’s not getting easier. From the side, I see her nose wrinkle and a small frown forms on those fuckable lips of hers. Turning her head towards me, she answers, “Twentyeight. Why, how old are you?” “Not old enough to be in bed with you like this while you watch that show.” We’re drifting into old couple

territory here. “All you need is one of those long ass ugly nightgowns. Get me a pipe, and we’d be an old couple.” “Did you just call me old?” She snorts, looking away from her Golden Girls to me. “First, I’m fat at the bike shop. Then you might or might not take a bullet for me, and now I’m fucking old?” She says with shock and awe in her raspy voice. Damn, I should’ve kept my mouth shut. “I’m sorry,” she laughs, barely able to get the shit out, her eyes full of humor. “You’re just too easy.” Jesus, she’s fucking with me. “I’m thirty-four, chubby,” I say as I slap her thigh, making it jiggle just a little when I shove her over across the

bed. Lennon’s not fat, not even fucking close. In fact, she’s perfect to me, which makes this all so much harder on me. She’s thick and curvy in all the right places for me, and she’s all fucking sexy. She’s got hips to grip and an ass to smack. A little jiggle here and there is just more fun for me. No, she’s not fat, she’s voluptuous. Fuck, I knew this whole “cuddle buddy” shit was a bad idea. I should be sleeping, or be at the club, getting drunk, maybe fucking some bitch. Maybe I shoul’ve went for a ride. But no, I’m lying here with Lennon and I hate how much I don’t hate it. Grabbing a joint from my jeans on

the floor, I light it up and get comfortable, since I’m uncomfortable, being here with Lennon. Taking a drag, I mull over my life and how I got here. I’m thankful its Lennon here and not Jess. Thankful isn’t even the word for it, lucky might be more like it. “You’re not fat, darlin’, but can’t say you ain’t old.” I joke. Lennon knows how goddamn beautiful she is. “Wouldn’t matter if I was fat because you still wanna fuck me,” she says nonchalantly. Caught off guard by her bluntness, I almost choke on my weed. She thinks I wanna fuck her, huh? Well, she’d be right about that. “Oh yeah?” “I woke up this morning with a hard

dick poking me in the back, so fat or not, you still like what you see.” She wins, hands down. She knows.

I wake up alone, and I’m not gonna lie, I don’t like it much. The space where the little crasher slept is empty and cold when I roll over. If you’re gonna be here when I fall asleep, you’re gonna be here when I wake up, rule number three. Following the smell of coffee down the hall, I look for Lennon in the kitchen. Rounding the corner, I find the front door wide open. There’s coffee in the pot and a pair of Lennon’s beat up Chucks by the wide-open door, but no Lennon. Checking the clock, I see it’s only seven

in the morning. Too fucking early to be awake. Standing on the porch, I look out in the yard and find her, just standing in the middle of the grass, doing fuck knows what. Her back is to me and I don’t have a clue what she’s doing. Wearing nothing but a tiny black tank, and an even smaller pair of cotton shorts, she looks out of place in the middle of the yard. “Whatcha doin’, darlin’?” “Nothing.” She doesn’t even bother to look at me when she answers. She just stares out into the woods, drinking her coffee. “Lennon, come back inside.” She’s going to freeze to death out here in the

wet grass and early morning air. “No.” “Yes.” “Why?” Fuck, she’s a defiant little brat this morning. “Because I wanna go back to sleep for a while.” We’ve got hours until the party starts tonight, and seeing as how these parties tend to run all weekend, this might be the last sleep I’ll get till it’s over. “And I have to be there for you to sleep?” She asks, finally looking over her shoulder at me with her head cocked curiously. Well fuck, I guess not, but it’s weird now. Now that she’s taken over my bed, it feels wrong to be in it without her.

“Yes.” I’m not gonna pussyfoot around it. I want some more sleep, and I want Lennon back inside the damn house. How am I supposed to get any sleep while she’s out here? She can’t even make a sandwich without almost losing a finger. I need her close so I can keep an eye on her. “Do you miss me?” She teases, turning back to looking out into nothing. I don’t miss her. How do you miss someone who’s less than a hundred feet away? Maybe it’s her body heat I miss. “I’m not fucking with you. Come inside.” “Buck―” She starts to argue. “My house, my goddamn rules. I wanna go back to sleep, so you’re gonna

bring your ass back inside the house and get into bed.” She sighs loudly in response. Walking through the yard and up the steps of the deck, Lennon stops in front of me and shoves her coffee cup at me. “You know, all you had to say was please,” she whispers around a devious smile. She walks around me, back inside the house, letting the screen door slam behind her. I watch her go and I start to wonder what the fuck that was. I couldn’t sleep, and apparently it’s Lennon’s fault. I’m not going to analyze why that is, why my sleep depends on her. I’m not even going to think about the fact that I’m being a whiney bitch over not having her in my

bed when two weeks ago, I was pissed about even having her around. It is what it is. “In the bed, now,” I tell her as I follow her down the hall. I say it for effect, really, because her ass is already halfway there. “Can we cuddle?” She laughs at the face I make when she asks. Leaping onto the bed, she lands with a bounce. “Fuck no.” I shove her over, getting back in my now cold bed next to her. “Two feet rule,” I say, motioning at the space between us. “Stupid fucking rule,” she mutters, rolling her eyes. She deliberately scoots towards me, and her smirk grows the closer her ass gets. “Once you fall

asleep, I’m just gonna crawl on top of you and sleep.” “What you do when you sleep is your business, just don’t wake my ass up when you’re doing it. But while I’m awake, it’s two feet, babe.” My control is just about gone. —— I tried, I really did, but there was no changing Lennon’s mind. She woke up in a challenging mood, determined to do whatever the fuck she wants. Wearing a short, sheer, white linen dress, and a pair of knee high riding boots, she’s every bikers wet dream, and she’s wearing that outfit no matter what the

fuck I say. Not one to really give a shit what others do, I find myself pretty damn concerned with Lennon; what she wears, where she goes, and what she does. I don’t like it, but I can’t help myself. There’s just something about her. Ignoring it doesn’t work, and fighting it sure the fuck doesn’t seem to be making much of a difference. So, I’m just gonna go with it. Lennon’s in my life right now, whether I like it or not, so I might as well just go with the flow and see where it goes. “I wannna go for a ride,” Lennon says. Hiking up her little dress, she throws a leg over my seat. With one hand on the handlebars, her ass goes up

in the air, and her knee rests on the metal. The material of her “dress” is up around her waist, her ass hanging out. Her ass cheeks are covered in white lace, and they’re on full display. Fuck, what a picture. Crossing my arms, I watch her attempt to get on the bike, enjoying the show. “Babe, I can see your ass.” “Yeah, I know.” “She knows,” I repeat to myself. She doesn’t give a fuck. Settling in, she gets comfortable and pats the empty space in front of her, nodding me over. “Come on, Buck, let’s ride.” “Where you wanna go, darlin’?” I get on the bike in front of her. Setting her feet on the bike frame, she scoots up

close, leaning her body close against me. “Anywhere with you,” she says, pressing her knees into my hips. Those words are like gasoline on a fire. That shit speaks to me. Lennon just wants to go. She wants to ride ... with me. I can’t deny her, because on my bike, with her, is where I want to be too. “Yeah, babe. I’ll take the long way to the club.”

Lennon I’m ready. Tonight’s the night. My heart is happy and my body is on a high. Buck took the long way here. Screaming down the highway, he gave me exactly what I asked for. We cruised the coastline―rocky ocean cliffs on my right, and limitless forest to my left―we rode into the nothing, just Buck, his bike, and me. It was perfect. Exactly how I wanted to spend my evening. Glowing brightly in the distance, I can see the sky-high flames above the bar from down the highway. Bright and blaring, the party has roared to life, and the closer we get, the faster my heart races. Pulling into the lot, I survey the

rows and rows of bikes. It’s beautiful insanity. It’s all an overload of the senses, and I’m not even off the bike yet. “Wow,” I breathe, leaning around Buck to take it all in. Laughing, Buck agrees with a simple, “Yeah.” “I’m so fucking excited.” I hop off the back of his bike the second it rolls to a stop. My feet meet gravel and they itch to take off into the thick of it, but I only get a step in before Buck stops me. “Hold up there, hippy.” Slinging a protective arm over my shoulder, he walks me across the lot and around the bar to the open lot out back. “I’ll walk ya back.” I feel at home in the crush of bodies

as we wade into the thick of the party. Bikers, family, friends, and the like, mingle around the giant lot. People have their drinks, smokes to their lips, bodies moving to a voiceless hypnotic beat. This is what I call a fucking party. In the firelight, everything looks perfect, promising a night of shameless fun, drunken debauchery, and endless stories. Nights like this are what I live for; the crazy, the wild, and especially, the unexpected. I fight the urge to run wild, to throw myself into the madness and just go crazy. But Buck’s arm keeps me grounded. “Darlin’?” Sensing my need to go, Buck looks down at me, lifting a curious brow. In black from head to toe, the fire

at his back, he looks larger than life. He looks like everything that’s right about tonight, and I can’t contain my smile. I can’t stand still. Itching to be wild and free, I dance on my feet, unable to control myself. “Jesus, babe,” he laughs, clearly amused by my enthusiasm. “You excited or what?” “It’s just so ...” I don’t even have the words. “Go, have some fun, but be careful,” Buck warns before letting me go. Careful is not my middle name, but I’ll try, for him. “Thank you.” “I’ll find you,” he promises before taking a step back.

“Okay, Buck.” I wouldn’t expect less from him.

I walk around, weaving around bodies, taking in all the faces and all the voices. I know hardly anyone, yet I feel perfectly at home. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Food is set up on picnic tables in the far corner. A dirt pit lined with wire holds the hogs, sizzling away over hot coals. Three-barrel barbeques cook away, manned by men in cuts. Kegs are everywhere, holding stacks of red cups, overflowing with beer. Twenty or so ice chests sit between rows of tubs, filled with ice and cans.

Across the lot, the pool’s surrounded with some people fully dressed, some completely naked. Girls squeal and splash, and the guys laugh and cheer them on. This party is exactly what I’d hoped for, but nothing like I expected. Sure, it’s wild. I’ve caught some couples in some compromising positions. A fight broke out and some guy drove his bike through the fire, but it’s not scary to me, it’s fun. Everyone’s having a good time. It’s a family affair, and it shows.

“Lennon!” My name shouted by five familiar voices has me leaping ungracefully from my stump, and my

bare feet landing in the dirt. I wobble from the three beers I’ve just consumed, but I manage to keep on my feet. Sam, Lil, Peaches, Lala, and Cali, screech like maniacs, and I screech back, “Girls!” We may not be blood related, but we are all sisters at heart. From years to weeks, I’ve known these girls, but it feels like a lifetime, and I wouldn’t change a thing about it. Caught up in a bone-crushing hug, we gush and we giggle. I’m happy to see some familiar faces in a sea of new ones. I can hang with the boys, but I need my sisters. “How’s it goin’?” Peaches asks, tackling me in another bear hug. “Great!”

“Buck bein’ a good boy?” Lil asks, jerking me from Peaches arms and into hers. Buck is Buck; larger than life, but bossy. “Perfect gentleman.” I assure them all. We all start to laugh at that as we look over at Buck, who’s talking with Tank, Rampage, and Gin. Buck let me go, but he’s stayed close. “Drinks, ladies.” Lil ushers us all towards the picnic tables. “I wanna hear all about how you and Buck are getting along.”

Paper plates full of barbeque, and red cups filled with Jack, sit in front of each of us as we catch up on the weeks we’ve

been apart. There’s nothing better than girl time. “Give me your hand,” I demand, sticking my own hand out. Sitting at the picnic tables, I’ve been reading life lines and tarot cards, something my mom taught me the summer I turned nine. Not a skill worth building a career out of, but it’s a fun party trick. Stuffing a fry in her mouth, Lil leans forward, watching me read Lala’s hand. Running my thumb down the long line, I surmise she’s got years ahead of her with Rampage. Brushes with death be damned, this girl is gonna live a long time. “I see years and years,” I assure her. I know hardly anything about her

and her situation, but I can feel it. She needs the reassurance. “Yeah?” Lala asks, smiling. She’s new. Well, new to me, anyways. Many moons ago, I was friends with Lil, Peaches, and Cali for a single school year. It’s been a long time, but we’ve picked up right where we left off, and I get the vibe it’ll be the same with Lala. “Oh yeah,” I stress, smiling back her. I’m sure there’s zero scientific accuracy to this method, but it’s fun and it’s a hopeful way to see your possible future. “And the line of your heart is deep and strong.” “Enough about Lala, I wanna hear the deets on you ‘n Buck,” Lil sings from next to me, bumping me with her

shoulder. “We vibe just fine.” Buck and I, we’re two very different people with some deep similarities. I wouldn’t even know how to explain Buck to her. I like him. I’ve only known him a short time. He’s withdrawn, and I know he has some history that he hasn’t let go of yet, but he calls to me. So, even though I know very little about Buck, I like what I do know. “Oh yeah?” On the edge of her seat, Cali props her chin in her hand and wiggles her brows in anticipation for what I’m sure she thinks is a juicy bit of gossip. “Vibe, or vibe?” “Like, we cuddle, but it’s not mutual. I do most of the cuddling,” I say,

stifling a laugh with the thought of Buck, the “I don’t want to cuddle” cuddler. I like to cuddle with him, alot, but I also do it just to fuck with him because I know he hates it. “He’s kinda prickly like that,” Lil adds. “Give me your hand,” I motion to Lil. “He’s cool. I like him, but I’d much rather talk about your future.” I change the subject, knowing I can’t offer much about Buck and I because there isn’t much to tell ... yet. All the girls get a reading. Most think it’s fun, but Jess doesn’t find it fun or exciting. She’s scowling at me from the other end of the table, angrily drinking her beer. I offered her a

reading, but she scoffed at me, and I’m cool with that. She showed up about an hour ago and planted herself at the end of our table. I’m not sure what she’s doing, but then again, I’m really not paying her much attention either. “What’s her problem?” Lala asks. Looking down at Jess’s tired face, I wonder the same thing myself. Since getting here, I haven’t had much interaction with her, other than her welcome wagon warning, but whenever I grace her with my presence, she glares at me. She’s obviously not my biggest fan. “Your guess is as good as mine.” “It’s Buck,” Lil chimes in, shaking her head sadly.

“What about Buck?” Lala asks, turning in her seat towards Jess, blatantly staring her down. I’d be lying if I didn’t say I wasn’t a little interested too. “You wanna know about Jess?” Lil says as Jess sneers at us. She gets up from the table with her head held high and defiant. The word yes hangs on my lips, but before I can say it, Lil starts in, “She’s just bitter. There was a fake relationship, some crazy drama, and some ki...” Lil gives us the rundown, but Tank stops her before she really gets into the big stuff. “Lilly!” Tank shouts from the fire, stopping her mid-sentence, startling us

all. “Over here, babe, NOW!” Rolling her eyes, she gets up from the picnic table shouts back at him, “Yeah, yeah, calm the fuck down.” “Jesus,” Lala huffs, crossing her arms. “Of course she leaves right in the middle of the good part.” “Yeah,” I agree. I’d love to figure out why that chick hates me to no end, because all I can surmise is that they had a thing, and mine and Buck’s nonexistent relationship has her in a tizzy. Looking over my shoulder, Buck’s standing by Tank, talking with a group of guys, all deep in conversation. I stare, taking him in. The more I look, the better he gets. Buck is something I just can’t explain. Drinking his beer, he looks up

and catches my eye. Watching me for a moment, he jerks his chin up at me and winks before he’s right back to talking to his buddies. Tonight is going to be fucking perfect.

10 - The Universe Buck “How long it take ya?” Rock asks, planting himself next to me. Sitting in a lawn chair, staring out into the fire while nursing my beer, I finally take a load off. I was able to find a quiet place to sit my ass down for a much needed break. “Almost two damn hours,” I answer. After two hours of handshakes, back slaps, toasts, and long-winded stories, I had to walk away. “Shit, took me an hour,” he gloats. Lucky son-of-a-bitch. I would’ve killed to knock thirty minutes off the process. Two hours is about as long as it took me to walk from the front of the bar

to the food area to grab a beer, which in reality, should’ve only taken me three minutes. Stopped by every Tom, Dick, and Harry along the way with a, “Hey,” or people wanting to wish me a happy forty fucking years of brotherhood. It took me a long damn time to get here to this lawn chair. I’m not even going to try to get up again until I’ve polished off this bottle and the few spares I snagged. “It’s a packed fucking house,” Poncho groans, claiming the lawn chair to my left. Yeah, it is. “You survived it.” We toast. Parties just aren’t the same when you’re the host. No, I’ve got to bullshit and greet people, when I’d much rather be drinking and eating.

It is a packed house. Clubs from everywhere are here. Brothers, family, friends, hang arounds, and strangers, roam the lot. Everyone is drinking, eating, bullshitting, and having a good time. It’s a nice sight, even if I’m just now getting to enjoy it. Listening to Poncho and Rock babble, I lean back in my chair and stare out into the fire, catching sight of Neo, chatting up Rock’s little blonde broad. It’s only a second before Rock catches sight of it and growls. Those two, man, they need to get it together. “Got a question. What do you think of Neo?” I ask them both. It’s a party, not really time for business, but I just can’t

let it rest. I don’t know how I feel about the asshole. He rubs me the wrong way, like he’s here for all the wrong reasons. Neo’s new, so he hasn’t been prospecting for us very long. His uncle is a patched member down in Cali. He asked for a favor, give his nephew a shot, so we did, and I’m not sure it’s gonna work out. “Eh,” Rock grunts. “Don’t think he can hack it,” he states, watching him and his blonde chat. “And if he doesn’t get the fuck away from El, he’ll be leavin’ a lot sooner.” Fuck, Rock and El are a mess. “Gettin’ the vibe he’s up to somethin’,” I confide to them both. Something about the guy seems off. He

seems untrustworthy to me. I smell a rat. “Yeah?” Poncho asks. “Yeah. He was coming outta room one after cleaning it, and suddenly money goes missing.” I’m just not real sure how he’d do it. That safe’s hidden and the combination is unbreakable. Nevertheless, I don’t trust the kid as far as I can throw him. “Wanna do somethin’ about it?” Poncho’s ready to take my back. “Keeping an eye on him tonight, feeling him out.” And the second he steps outta line, he’s out on his ass.

There’s something to be said about being around family. Whether by blood or by

choice, we’re family, and that shit runs deep. It’s good to be around them when you can just sit and enjoy it. “So, real shit, brother, what’s up with you ‘n Lennon?” Rock asks as he looks over to where her, Lil, and the girls are, dancing and laughing. Fuck if I know the real answer to that question. We are whatever we are. Labels make shit complicated anyways. We’re cool. “Don’t know.” I tell him honestly. “I like her. I like coming home to her.” Something I thought I’d never say about a woman. “She’s always happy to see me.” Another thing I never thought a woman would feel about me. “She fucking likes me. It’s not the bike, the

club, or the cut. She makes it hard not to like her back.” No motherfucker in their right mind would pass up a woman like Lennon. She’s pretty unique. Most of the bitches around here are out for number one. They need their rent paid, their rocks off, or some kind of title to brag about to their friends. Lennon doesn’t want a goddamn thing from me, other than me, and that shit is hard not ignore. “Yeah?” “Fuck yeah.”

She stands out like a neon sign in a dark room, bright and eye-catching. Her

hair’s flying around her face, swinging wildly as she dances to the music. Hands above her head, she spins and twists to the beat. Lennon picked the song. “My music,” she’d said, handing Tyler a scuffed-up iPod. ‘Breakfast in America’ plays loudly as she dances happily. Tonight she’s mingled with everyone she can, and danced with anyone willing. I lost her a few times, but somehow she’s always seemed to find me. Walking into the group of people standing around the trailer, watching the girls dance, I find Lil, alone and drinking with a fond smile on her face. “I’m fun and wild, but I could never

be free like that,” she muses out of nowhere, gazing up at the trailer. “Like what?” I ask her, following her eyes back up to the roof of the trailer. “Wild at heart ... a free spirit.” Turning towards me, Lil smiles that sweet smile of hers. Lilly’s special. For one, she’s smart, too goddamn smart. She’s strong and she’s fun. She’s a good fucking friend. “You’re pretty crazy, Sis.” I’ve seen some shit. Lil has a wild streak. Shaking her head, she purses her lips and argues, “No, not like that. Lennon’s like the moon, Buck.” The moon? What kinda crazy shit is she spewing? “What?” That’s Lil, what

she lacks in being a free spirit, she makes up for with her wild imagination. “Lennon. She’s the moon. That pull you feel to her, you can’t fight it. You and everyone around gravitate towards her. They can’t help it. I can’t help it. No one can. She has a pull.” The moon. Lennon is the fucking moon. Watching her dance, like everyone else, it makes perfect sense. “Yeah,” I agree. Fuck, I don’t know what else to say to that. I feel it, that pull. “Yeah?” Lil asks. “Look at her. You can’t stay away from her. No one can. You just want to be near her, listen to her, touch her.” Lennon and Peaches twirl around

each other, both laughing and smiling, but it’s Lennon I can’t stop watching. Lil’s right. “When did you meet her?” “It was my eleventh grade year, a month into the school year. Lennon was in tenth. I was standing out front of the high school with Peaches, waiting on the guys when we both heard a bike. She pulled up on the back of a red Harley, arms around a dude we didn’t know. She hopped off and looked right at Peaches and me, and I swear we both felt it.” “Felt it?” “That pull, whatever it is about Lennon that can’t be missed. She walked right up to me with a smile from ear to ear and introduced herself. From that

day on, up until the day she disappeared, we were great friends.” “Where’d she go?” “Don’t know. Just like she showed up, she left just as suddenly. One day in July, after the school year ended, we were at a party at the club. One minute she was there with me, and the next she was gone.” “She just left?” “I guess. I never heard from her or saw her again. Stitch said he saw her crawl onto the back of a red Harley and ride off.” The thought of Lennon on the back of some other dudes bike suddenly makes me want to punch something. It hits me that I don’t know a

goddamn thing about Lennon before she came here, and I wonder if I really want to. Maybe her past is better left there, but I’ll be damned if I can stop the fucking questions from coming. “Where’d she stay when she lived here?” “I have no clue.” Lennon is just as much of a mystery to Lil as she is to me. “Do you trust her?” Without hesitation, she says, “Yes, with my life.”

Lennon The way he looks at me is like second nature. Watching me move, his eyes never leave my body. He has no control over it. Buck can’t help it, and I don’t blame him. From the moment I laid eyes on him, I knew there would be no going back, and he knew it to. It’s just taken him a while to see it, that is until now. Standing on the thin metal roof of the trailer, I smile, feeling like I’m on top of the world. I feel invincible, unbreakable. I can see everything from up here. A half-mile in each direction; the fire, the party, the parking lot, the hotel, and all the people enjoying every fucking minute of this night.

It could be the booze, it could be the night, or it could be that I’m finally free. Free to feel, to be wild. There’s something so beautiful about living here, like the club does, free and un-fuckingtouchable. Nothing can get me here because I’m safe with Buck. My reality is a beautiful mask on something ugly, but not tonight. Listening to the mellow beat of L$D, I sway, feeling so alive and so damn happy I could burst. Buck’s in lounger at the pools edge, holding a bottle of liquor and watching me. He’s smiling and laughing, shaking his head at me. He likes me today. Walking to the edge of the trailer, I look down at the dirt below and back at

Buck. Scooting to the edge of his lounger, he gives me the slightest jerk of his chin, warning me. I can’t live in a bubble, it’s impossible. I crave the rush of a life lived on the edge. I leap into the night sky. Throwing myself off the side of the trailer, I close my eyes for only a moment. With my arms in the air and my legs dangling underneath me, I float through the air, then I start to fall fast. Catching a glimpse of Buck’s stunned face, I smile broadly before I hit the water. The cool wash of the water hits my overheated skin, making me gasp. The rush of the jump travels through my veins to my feverishly beating heart, crushing it against my ribcage. Kicking my legs

hard, I swim for the surface, holding my breath. The first thing I see is Buck kneeling at the edge of the pool when I break the surface. He’s so damn mad, yet he looks proud as hell. Everyone around the pool cheers and hollers. “The fuck Lenn―” I don’t let him finish. My wet fingers wrap around his shirt, tugging him in with me. Buck goes under mad and comes up stunned as fuck. I had to do it. He swipes the water away from his face. “Babe.” “Swim with me,” I say, paddling away, but I don’t get far. Grabbing onto my arm, he hauls me back through the water towards him.

“Bring your ass back here,” he growls, jerking me into his wet body. Tearing his cut off, he tosses it at Rock, who’s smiling like a fool. “Hang that shit up to dry on the chair, and then get the fuck outta here. That goes for all of you.” No one questions him. They all get up and do as he says, leaving us alone. I’ve lost all control and all sense. Everything feels so right. I wrap my legs around his waist, and he doesn’t push me away. Sliding a hand up the curve of my ass, he rests his hand on my lower back. “Why the fuck did you jump like that? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” He smiling. He’s not mad. “Why not?” Everything in life is a

jump, but it’s usually metaphorically. I leapt, literally, into life. Buck feels good against my body. Legs wrapped around him, I lean in close. I stare at those fucked up eyes watching me carefully. I think I intimidate him a little. He’s so handsome in that unusual way, messy and rough, and I’ve realized recently how much I really love it. “Buck?” He grins when his name passes my lips. “Shut up and give me that mouth,” he demands. Strong fingers wrap around the back of my neck, pulling me face to face with him. A shiver snakes its way up my back with the touch of his skin on mine.

He presses his lips to mine and kisses me roughly. One minute I’m in the pool, wrapped around Buck, and the next I’m up over his shoulder, being carried out of the pool. “You want me to stop.” He says running a hand up and down my leg. “No, don’t stop ... don’t ever stop.

My back meets the rough edges of the cedar siding of the bar when Buck sets me down, pushing me against the wall. Leaning into me, he drags his rough hands up my sides, fingers grazing my skin until his hands are under my tank, palming me, exploring me. He takes a

moment to savor it, and I can see his eyes roaming with a predatory gleam. “Buck.” Burying his face in my neck, he inhales. “I’m blaming this shit on you, Lennon,” he says in my ear, biting my shoulder. Fine. This shit is my fault. I’ll gladly take the blame. “Mmhmm.” I manage to hum. His teeth sink into my soft flesh, tasting me. “Shit.” Kissing the sting away, he groans, “Should’ve never let you in, but I did, and now you’re mine, baby.” I’m not even sure how I got here behind the bar, but all I know is I’m not stopping him. Rough lips run up my neck, my jaw, and then meet my lips. Taking my mouth,

he kisses me hard until we’re both breathless, thirsty for air. “So fuckin’ soft and sweet.” There are people everywhere, but I can barely hear them. I know we’re about six seconds from someone stumbling upon us, but I couldn’t care less. All I care about is Buck and his body pressing into me, his hand in my hair, twisting it around his fingers, and his lips devouring mine. Savoring his touch, I damn well know this could be the first and last time. Wrapping a hand around my thigh, he says, “Up,” against my mouth. Complying, I throw my legs around his waist, wrapping them tight around solid

muscle. Fuck, I want him inside me, right now. I knew it the moment I laid eyes on his harsh face that I wanted him, but I tried to keep it casual, friendly. This might be a bad idea, but I don’t care. This right here, Buck on me, is what I want. It’s what I need. Rocking against him, I feel the swell of his dick against my soaked panties. I wish I hadn’t even worn any. “Panties,” I pant when Buck starts working on his jeans. They’re in the fucking way. “Fuck ‘em.” Skirt over my hips, I watch him reach into his pocket, pulling out a condom. He rips it with his teeth and

pulls it out. Then I watch him pull out his cock and roll it on with skilled precision. He made real quick work of that. “Tell me now to stop.” Not a chance in hell. “No.” Wrapping my fingers around it, I marvel at his length and girth, dying to feel him inside of me. “Want me inside.” “Yes, fuck. Please.” “Patience,” he murmurs. That is something I don’t have right now. Pulling his dick out of my hand, I almost cry. “I’ll give you what you want.” He doesn’t need any more encouragement from me. He knows I’m a desperate mess. Running a finger up the

seam of my panties, he smirks, reveling in the shiver he pulls from my body. Adding pressure, he runs the tip of his finger back down, working out another. “Good, baby?” “So good.” “Hold on to me then, tight.” And I do. Shoving my panties to the side, he shoves into me in one swift, sharp thrust, slamming himself all the way inside. Stilling for a moment, he soaks it all in. “Move,” I groan, squeezing him, making his cock jump inside of me, making the perfect agony that much worse. Buck doesn’t hold back. He begins thrusting in and out, hitting all the right

angles. Spots cloud my vision and my head spins with each deep drive. One hand is wrapped up in my hair, and the other’s digging into the skin of my thigh, holding me against him. My tits are pressed against his solid chest, and my hands are locked around his neck. “Tell me this pussy is mine,” he growls. “Tell me.” “Buck.” “Lie to me, baby,” he grinds out. “It’s yours.” For as long as you’ll have me.

11 - Lies & Secrets Buck I told her to lie to me last night. I broke down like a bitch and almost begged her to lie to me. I know I’m not the first, and I most likely won’t be the last to get between those thick thighs, but fuck, I wish I was. There’s something sweet about being the only one. I’m not stupid though, I know I’m not. But no motherfucker wants to believe that the pussy he’s currently enjoying belongs to someone else. While we’re inside, we want to believe that shit is ours. Men, we’re fucking deluded that way. We don’t share well, especially something that feels as good as Lennon did. That

cunt is all mine, even if it is only for a night. Lie to me, let me believe that shit is mine, and we’ll get along just fine. Part of me can’t help but to wish that bullshit last night was true. We fucked like animals, rough and wild. Something like that is something you want constantly. It’s something a man starts to crave. “It’s yours,” she moaned in my ear, fingers digging into my skin, and she sounded damn convincing. So, I’m gonna pretend that shit was real. I’m gonna smoke and drink and lie to myself. Now it’s pillow talk and rough sex. Wrapped up in each other, even if it’s only for the weekend. We’re laid up in one of the motel rooms. She’s on her

stomach on the other side of me. I think she might be sleeping now because she’s not on top of me. Wearing nothing but a blue pair of tiny panties, and not a damn thing else, she looks perfectly fuckable and peaceful, like she belongs to me. I don’t want to wake her. I just want to watch her sleep, soak her up while I’ve got her. Reaching a hand out, I touch her skin, running my fingers down her back, over her ass and to her thigh. I revel in the smoothness. I wanna fuck her again. Turning her head, she looks at me the second my fingers graze her skin, her eyes so goddamn deep and full of secrets. Lennon smiles with her cheek resting on her folded arms. She watches

me take a hit, hold it, and exhale. Her eyes never leave mine. Something about the way she always watches me ... it’s fucking beautiful. “Listen,” she starts, but I stop her. Not right now. Whatever it is she’s gotta say can wait. Right now, I just want her here with me. I want her happy to be with me. I’m a simple man. I don’t want much. “Smoke with me, baby. Lay with me and just enjoy it.”

Lennon fell back asleep a few hours ago. She smoked with me and then let me worship her body. I spent a good hour tasting every inch of her before I let her

drift off again. Now the sun is setting and it’s time I got my ass out of bed, even though I just want to stay right here with her. Rolling out of bed, I get up and stretch. Lennon doesn’t move. Looking down at her, I don’t regret a goddamn thing about crossing that line. Might’ve been wrong, but fuck it. She begged for it and who am I to deny her? Walking out of the bathroom, I find Lennon up, and I know it then and there, she’s a goddamn gift from God. Seeing her standing there, wearing my cut, is like a dream come true. Standing in the middle of the room with her back to me, she’s wearing nothing but my cut and her blue panties.

My dick jumps to attention at the idea of her naked tits pressed against the leather. A mile of tan legs and smooth skin tease me. Those legs wrapped around my head is just the start to the very long list of shit I have planned for them. Throwing them over my shoulders, wrapped around my waist on my bike, spread wide on the kitchen table. The list is fucking long. “Lennon.” Turning around slowly, she smiles. It’s a sneaky, sexy as fuck smile. Fingers clutching the sides of the leather, she rocks on her heels and licks her lips. “Does it look good on me?” she asks. Lennon knows the answer to that question. No one, and I mean no one, has

ever worn that cut besides me. I vowed no one would, but seeing Lennon in it has changed the game. “Don’t play games, babe. You know it does.” “Or would it look better on the floor?” she teases, letting the shoulder slide down her skin. Biting her lip, she shrugs, waiting for my response. “Keep it on,” I tell her. Jesus Christ, keep it the fuck on. Walking farther into the room, I have to count to ten to keep from rushing her ass and tossing her to the floor. I’ve already fucked her a few times now, and I’m looking for a repeat. “You have fun last night, babe?” I ask, circling her, biding my time. I know

she did. Her wild hair and softly smudged makeup gives her away. We had fun. “Sure,” she shrugs, uncaring. She playing, toying with me. “Sure?” I repeat. Playing hard to get will get you nothing but a red ass. “It was cool,” she admits, messing with the patches on my leather. Reaching up, she rubs the patch with Buck written on it, which goes right across her tit. She looks so goddamn good in that leather. I’ve seen some shit, but Lennon in my cut? Nothing will ever come close. Taking a step towards her, I need a little taste, but she takes one back towards the bed. Holding a finger out, she waves it at me, tsking me.

“I don’t think so,” she coos. I really couldn’t care less what she thinks at this moment. She knew when she put that cut on, she was asking for it, and I’ll gladly be the man to give it to her. “I know so.” Each step I take forward, she takes one back until she’s sitting on the bed. “So, it was just a little fun?” I wonder out loud. I remember it being more than just a little fun. I remember her screaming my name, fingers digging into my back, and her pussy milking the fuck outta my dick. I’m remembering it a little differently than she is apparently. “Yeah, a little.” She’s ballsy today. Standing at the edge of the bed, looming over her, I feel twenty feet tall.

Lennon makes me feel that way when she looks up at me. Reaching a hand out, I run my finger down the soft leather of my cut. Lennon shivers, her eyes closing. Outside the room, I can hear people talking, and down by the bar, I can hear music. The old decrepit air conditioner wheezes in the window, but all I can focus on is Lennon. Her breathing comes faster. Her chest is rising and falling quickly, and her fingers are digging into the mess of blankets. Hooking a finger under the shoulder, I jerk lightly on the leather, testing it out. “If you put this cut on, baby, a man might think you’re lookin’ for a little more of that fun we had last night.” Scooting back on her ass, away

from me, she bites her lip, and that shit does me in. My dick is hard, painful, and hungry for her. She gets her knees on the bed and starts crawling away from me. She’s running. “Running only makes me want to fuck you harder,” I tell her, snatching her ankle up in my hand. “There’s no running from me, Lennon,” I add as I pull her leg out from under her, making her fall onto her stomach. “So I’m gonna ask you again. You lookin’ for more fun?” Laying a hand on her ass, I give it a good smack, leaving a red handprint. “Fuck,” she moans, curling her lips in a sexy little sneer.

“That’s the idea, baby.” I can’t wait to get inside her tight, wet pussy again. There’s nothing about her that I would change, from her big tits to her plump round ass, all the way down to her fucking toes. Every inch of her is beautiful. Running my hands up the smooth skin of her legs, over every tattoo to her hips, I dig my fingers in. Pulling her ass in the air, I groan at the sight. I will never forget this image of Lennon on all fours, wearing my cut, and her ass in the air, just for me. She teases me by wiggling her ass. I’m a man on the edge here, seeing her like this. “Behave.” I give her ass another

good slap, watching it jiggle perfectly. What’s the point in fucking a body that doesn’t jiggle when you do it? I need to see that shit move. I’m a visual type of guy. I want to see it bounce, jiggle, and dance. “No,” she says seductively. “No?” “Fuck no.” Laughing to myself, I fight the urge to tear her apart, sink myself balls deep inside her and fuck her till she’s walking funny. Lennon thinks she can tell me no, but I’ve had her body, and now I want more. There isn’t a thing she can do to stop me. Peeling her panties down her ass and over her feet, I toss that shit towards

the garbage, and I’m left with her bare and sexy, and ready to be fucked. On my knees behind her, I play with her wet pussy, sinking my fingers deep inside. She shudders, and I’ll be damned if I don’t have to suppress my own shudder when she tightens around my fingers. I play with her until she’s moaning and begging, and I can’t wait anymore. Tearing the towel from around my waist, I toss that shit with her panties. I get a condom on in as fast as I can, then I’m ready. I’m so fucking gone at this point, a bullet wouldn’t even stop me. “You want some dick?” I tease her, running my cock across her clit, I go higher, sticking the tip inside her wet cunt. I fight with myself to not go too far.

I don’t want to hurt her, but I do want her to feel me for the rest of the day. “Go deep,” she urges, sticking that ass out farther, and that shit does me in, so I do. I slip inside and all the way to the hilt. Lennon’s back arches and I hear the word “Fuck” fall from her lips. Closing my eyes, I savor the feeling. It’s unbelievable. In and out of her tightness, I concentrate on not blowing my load. She feels so fucking good and so fucking right. With my colors on her back, her moaning and whimpering on her hands and knees, and my dick inside her, I fall into that lie of her pussy belonging to me. “Fuck, Lennon.”

Losing all control, I fuck her, and I fuck her hard. We’re both breathing hard and she’s begging me to let her come. I fuck her until it hurts. “Shit. Shit. Shit, Buck.” “Slam that pussy back on my dick, baby.” And she does. That’s my girl. Pounding away, I get the urge to watch her tits jiggle when I take her hard. Flipping her over, I sink back in and groan. “Shit, babe.” Pushing open the cut, I stare at her tits as they bounce around for me, but it’s just not enough. I need more. “Wrap your legs babe.” “Do your worst,” she says, breathless, her eyes rolling back. She doesn’t have to tell me twice.

Lennon is everything a man could want. She woke up with a smile on her face, and not a damn thing to bitch about. Once we were done on the bed, she let me fuck her in the shower. She threw on some clothes she brought in a bag, since the plan was to crash here for the weekend. I put my cut on and it smelled so much like Lennon, I had to take a second before walking with her to the bar. Perfect way to wake up. A big spread is laid out on the bar top when we finally drag our asses from the room. Breakfast of all kinds; pancakes, every breakfast meat, fruit,

cereal, eggs of every variety, and just about anything else you could think of, waited for us. That’s the nice thing about these parties. Old ladies from all over throw down when it comes to the eats. Lennon’s wearing some baggy as fuck sweats, a sports bra, and her hair’s in a messy knot. She’s standing next to Cups, a brother from another Chapter, and his old lady, and she looks sexy. Brit is Cups old lady, and that bitch is hot, but she just don’t compare when Lennon’s standing there next to her. Christ, I got damn lucky. “You’re catchin’ feelins’,” Rock declares next to me. The fuck I am. The only thing I’m catching is some good pussy.

“Nah.” I like Lennon, there’s no denying that, but where feelings are concerned, there’s nothing there, other than a friendship with a mutual enjoyment in fucking one another. He laughs, like I told his ass a joke or something. “Yeah, sure.” “How the fuck would you know?” Looking over at El, he looks knowingly back at me with a smug grin on his ugly mug. “Believe me, assfuck, I know.” “That’s cute. Your sweet new term of endearment for me?” I’m done talking about Lennon with this asshole. Her and I, we’re good. What’s going on between us is no one’s fucking business but ours. “Nice. Avoid and ignore. I know

you’re into the chick.” “I know I’m gonna knock your teeth out if you don’t stop spouting off at the mouth about girly feelings and shit at me.” “Such a sensitive motherfucker.” “Dead motherfucker,” I counter with a grin. Holding his beer out to me, I toast him. “To bitches, beer, and brotherhood.” “To bitches, beer, and brotherhood,” I echo.

Lennon eats and Lennon bullshits. What she doesn’t do is bother me until I nod her ass over to me. I’m tired of watching her from across the room. A couple

brothers were sniffing around, and we just can’t have that now, can we? It’s too early to kill anyone. “Darlin’,” I greet her when she comes walking up, smiling at me like I’m a fucking king. That smile does bad things to my ego. Little by little, it’s getting even bigger. “I think I might die,” she moans, sitting herself right in my lap, rubbing at her naked stomach. Sitting on a camping chair out back in the beer garden, I try like hell to chase the hangover away with black coffee and mountain air. “Why are you dying?” “I think I ate half a pound of bacon. I think I’m turning into a pig.” Twisting her head, she looks back at me and

makes an ‘oink’ sound. “Just call me Porky.” Rock practically inhales his coffee on the other side of her when he chokes on a laugh. Lennon laughs right along with him. I love her laugh. “Jesus, woman.” I start to laugh too. “Did you just snort like a pig?” Rock coughs out as she whacks him on the back. “Yeah. What’s it to ya?” Lennon jokes, looking like trouble. “She always like this?” he asks me. “Yep.” And I wouldn’t change one goddamn thing about her.

Lennon During daylight hours, the party dies. Partygoers nurse headaches, feed their hangovers, and sleep off their depravity while the sun is high in the sky. The moment it falls bellow the tree line, that’s when all hell breaks loose, and morals take a back seat to wicked fun. Tonight is rougher than last night. People are drinking more and partying harder. Last night was the kickoff to tonight, the main event. The music is louder, the fire hotter, and the drinks are stronger. Tonight, everyone is partying like it’s their last night on earth. I spent the afternoon relaxing and recouping. Nursing a nagging hangover,

Buck and I spent most of the day in bed, sleeping it off, gearing up to do it all over again. I won’t lie, that’s been one of my favorite things about this weekend so far, the cuddling. Buck calls it fucking, but I prefer to call it extreme cuddling. But I’m ready for tonight, ready to be wilder and freer. I remember every toe curling second of last night and this morning. I’m looking for a repeat.

Everyone rages on around us, but tonight Buck seems more relaxed. Sitting on top of the picnic table, he sits on the bench between my knees, drinking his beer, and talking to his people. Me? I’m just happy

to be here enjoying the night. “Yo, Buck. Get the fuck over here,” Rock shouts from around the side of the motel a few hours later. I groan in protest when he gets up. Twisting my ankles around each other, I cling to him like a baby chimp. He’s gonna have to peel me off him. Why must he move? We moved from the picnic table after we ate to bullshit with the other party people. I swam and Buck did whatever Buck does with his guys. After a few hours, he finally came back to me, scooped me up, threw me around his waist so I was straddling him, and sat back in my vacated chair, and that’s where we’ve been ever since, watching the fire and

hangin’. “Wasn’t gonna set you down. Just hold onto me.” No argument there. Locking my limbs around him, I hold on for dear life as he stomps across the yard towards Rock, carrying me. “The fuck ya want?” Buck asks, coming to a stop at the backside of the motel. Legs spread wide, he holds me up comfortably. Lifting my head from his shoulder, I see a group of guys standing around, some of them are holding guns, and the others are looking at those guns. “Spike doesn’t believe me about your point perfect accuracy,” Tank says, voice full of confidence. “Stupid motherfucker,” Rock adds matter-of-factly.

I’ve noticed Buck doesn’t go anywhere without a gun. In the truck, there’s a shotgun strapped to the back window. Into the grocery store, there’s one tucked into an ankle holster. Next to the bed, one leans between the side table and bedframe. For a ride on his bike, there’s one resting in the waist of his pants. “He don’t, huh?” I hear the cocky drawl in Buck’s words vibrate in his chest. “Must not know how I got my name then,” He says with amusement to Rock. They both laugh at the guy’s lack of knowledge. Spike, the man in question, chuckles himself, although his is less fun and jokes and more sinister. Clearly he’s

not interested in Buck, his guns, or his name. “Yeah, I know. Just don’t believe all the damn hype.” Buck shakes his head sadly and takes a few steps back around the building, hollering, “Prospect, get your ass back here, now!” Buck surveys the area. Finding his target, he points at a guy and sticks his hand out, demanding, “Give me your beer can.” “But I’m not done,” the short fat guy complains, looking from his can and back to Buck. “Then drain it, quick.” I watch him point the prospect across the yard to an old outbuilding. He tells him to stand against the wall and sit the can on his head. The prospect

hesitates, his feet dancing in the dirt. His eyes are wide as he waits for the joke. Too bad for him, I don’t think Buck’s joking. “I’m not sure this is a good idea.” The prospects voice shakes. “Time to show us what you got, prospect. This is nothing. You scared? Can’t hang, prospect?” His voice is deep and deadly, and challenging. Watching the prospect, he squares his shoulders and tries in vain to school his face. He’s scared shitless. Buck thrusts the empty can at the kid and points him to the end of the lot. The prospect hesitates on his feet, and Buck pounces. “Either set the can on your fucking head or I’ll have to aim for something else.”

Buck jerks his chin over towards the building. The prospect walks off, dragging his feet. Finding his spot, he stops and sits the can on his head, his eyes huge and his hand unsteady. Dropping the can three times, he manages to keep it on his head on the fourth try. A circle of men form around us all, watching and waiting. Some argue about Bucks accuracy, some bullshit about ammo, and others laugh at the terrified unease on the prospects baby face. “Should you put me down?” I ask. He walks pretty far, maybe thirty yards or so, before he stops and turns back towards the kid. I don’t know much about guns, but I figure accuracy is

important, and me wrapped around him like this, probably doesn’t lend much to said accuracy. I’d rather not watch the prospect die tonight. “No, just hang on to me, darlin’.” Turning around, Buck faces the kid, who’s green in the face and squirming. Leaning against an old wall, the kid tries to stay still, but it’s just not happening. I can’t say I wouldn’t fidget with a target on my head either. Reaching a hand behind his back, Buck pulls out a gun. His other arm is wrapped around me, smashing me to his front, holding me in place. Oh Jesus, he’s really about to shoot that can off the kids head, or shoot off the kids head. With a flick of his wrist, he checks

the gun, looking it over. Once he’s satisfied, he looks up at the kid and hollers, “Now stand the fuck still unless you want a couple of extra holes in your head.” I wasn’t sure if it was possible, but the poor prospect pales to the point he’s almost clear. “Wait, hold up,” Rock shouts, holding his hand up in the air, waving Buck off. For a second I think he’s about to call off the idea, but instead he says, “A buck fifty says he shoots it first shot,” Rock declares, throwing his bet down with a chuckle. “Let’s make this shit interesting.” Everyone laughs, sans the ghostly white prospect. “Fifty,” shouts chubby, whose can Buck jacked.

“Two hundred he misses first shot” Spike adds, eyeing Buck carefully, assessing his ability. “I want in on that. First shot,” Rampage says, throwing back his beer. These boys are pretty sure of Buck. “Buck, what are you doing?” Squeezing me, he leans his face in close to mine and smirks. “Shh.” I’m all for fun, but I’m not sure how I feel about live target practice, especially if I’m a witness. “Five hundred on first shot, babe,” he gloats with a big ol’ smile. “Yeah?” I whisper back, believing in his confidence. If Buck thinks he’s got it, then who am I to argue? I really don’t want to see brains this evening, but I do

believe in Buck. “Oh yeah.” I can’t turn down free money, not when he’s so confident. Buck is a man after my own heart, after all, hustling money out of any situation. “Five hundred on first shot,” I holler, looking back at the mess of guys standing around, all drinking and laughing. Rock nods at me. He knows, we’ve got this shit. Buck’s hand sneaks up my back and wraps around my hair. He tilts my head back and demands, “Now kiss me, for luck.” I don’t hesitate. Planting my lips on his, he kisses me, then sucks on my bottom lip before pulling away. “It’s gonna be loud. Don’t let go of me, and no flinching, babe.”

“Okay.” I feel his arm raise. I count to four before I hear the click of the bullet falling into the chamber; five ... six ... the crack and ring of the gun makes my heart flinch and my eyes snap shut. Less than a second later, cheers and groans erupt. Manly voices ring out. The prospect shouts, “Holy fuck!” and Rock says confidently, “Told your ass he was on point with that shot.” “You didn’t miss it, did you?” Shoving the gun back into the waist of his jeans, he laughs softly, “No, baby, I didn’t. I never miss.” Walking up to the guys, Buck jostles me a little. Sticking my hand out, I demand my winnings, “Pay up, boys.”

Crumpled up bill are placed in my hand and I shove them in my top. Buck lifts a brow in question. “I don’t have pockets. Now, can we go back to cuddling?” I ask as he walks off with me still wrapped around him. “Fuck no.” “Why?” Dipping his head, he gets nose to nose with me and says, “Because I’m about to take your sexy ass back to the room and wear that pussy out.” That works too.

Back out in the chaos, sitting on a bench with Lil and Sam, I’ve noticed that the party has taken a turn. It’s late, creeping towards three in the morning. Things

have gone from fun to belligerent, louder and crazier. Shouting a few feet away catches my attention. Three men standing by an old shed are hollering at each other. One’s pointing his beer accusingly at the other. The third guy is shaking his head while the woman standing near him gets wild, whipping her head from side to side. “Oh, Jesus Christ,” Lil mutters next to me, shaking her head sadly. “Here we go,” Sam adds, putting her head in her hands. Before I can add anything, someone shouts, “Fuck you,” and shit kinda falls apart from there. One man shoves at the other, a beer is dropped, and the woman yells out

something I can’t understand, but she sounds pretty mad. A fist is thrown, followed by another. More shoving and shouting, and then the girl is in on it. The guys are wrapped around each other, beating the living shit out of one another. Fists fly, followed by, “You fucked my old lady,” and “I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you.” It only gets worse. The woman cries, leaping onto one guys back. “Stop it, Jack. You’re gonna kill him.” Oh hell, he might actually kill him. In a headlock, this Jack guy punches the other guy repeatedly in the face. Getting up from my seat, I watch the fight go from buddies brawling to bar fight. “What are you doing?” Lil asks,

but I’m moving before I can stop myself. The big guy, Jack, hauls off and slaps the woman. Her ass lands in the dirt with a loud cry. For a couple of years, when I was about eight, my mom had a boyfriend who liked to smack her around when he drank. I hated it then and I hate it now. At least now I can help. Walking over to the mess of flying fists, I crouch down by the woman, trying to keep myself out of the line of fire. “Are you okay?” I ask her. She’s sobbing, holding her cheek, and rocking back and forth in the dirt. “He’s gonna kill him,” she cries. Yeah, he might, but if she moves, she

won’t be next. “You gotta get up. They’ll work it out,” I tell her, pulling on her elbow. She goes to stand, but Jack turns his attention on her. “You fucked my brother, you stupid bitch.” Reaching behind his back, he pulls a knife. Oh shit. “I should fuckin’ kill you too. Knew you’d fuck me over.” Waving the knife around, I stare, stuck, waiting for the inevitable.

12 - Knives, Guns, and Friends Buck That stupid motherfucker pulled a knife, or should I say, dead motherfucker? I swear to Christ, some assholes just never learn. Ten feet away from removing Lennon from a bad situation, things take a fucking dive towards dangerous when he starts waving that Bowie around, pointing it in her general direction and shouting, looking completely unhinged. I know if I bum rush him, he’ll start stabbing blindly, and I’ll likely catch it. Fucker is ruining my goddamn night.

Sitting on the ground next to that stupid bitch Tammy, Lennon is trying to comfort her, but little does she know, this kinda shit happens all the time. Jack is a goddamn lunatic, and his old lady is just as crazy. She fucks anyone with a cock and he slaps her around for it. It’s their thing. Right or wrong, it’s their business, and their business now involves Lennon, who is my business. Fuck, Lennon is too sweet for her own damn good, helping that broad out without a second thought; sitting there with her, comforting her the best she can. Lennon’s heart is the size of Texas and I swear to God, in this situation, it’s going to get her sliced up. “Jack has lost his fuckin’ mind,”

Rock yells, following after me. Walking right into the mix, I look at Jack and warn him one time. “Put that shit down. Go get a beer and calm the fuck down.” But of course, he doesn’t listen to me. Why would he when waving knives around is a much better idea? “Fuck you,” he screams, “and fuck you, bitch. You are my old lady!” This has been fun, but I’m done with the stupid shit. Tossing a look over my shoulder to Dan, he jerks his chin up and walks off. Jack might be a brother, and he might be a friend when his head isn’t so far up his drunk ass, but I’ll do what I gotta do to keep Lennon safe and breathing. I have two fucking rules when it comes to her;

keep that pussy wet and her pretty heart beating. I might be all in for my brothers, but tonight just isn’t Jack’s night. Pulling my gun, I take aim. I don’t give it a second. I blow a nice little hole right through Jack’s right arm. The bullet tears a quarter-size hole in the dickhead’s arm. Blood, tissue, and a little meat make a mess on Tammy’s face. I warned him. He drops the knife instantly. Clutching his arm, he starts shouting shit that doesn’t make any sense. Blood drips from his little flesh wound, landing on the dirt at his feet, as he dances around, screaming at me. Walking over to Lennon, I scoop her ass up, throw her over my shoulder,

and walk off to Jack shouting death threats at my back. He can kill me later. Right now, I’m ready to go home. With a few stitches, some booze, and a little pussy, that motherfucker will be kissing my ass for keeping him alive long enough to slap Tammy around again. Point a knife at my girl, you’re lucky you don’t end up dead and buried deep in the woods behind my house. “You just shot that guy,” Lennon says, awe and confusion in her voice as she bounces around over my shoulder. And I’d do it again. Jack wasn’t the first, and he sure as shit won’t be the last. Why the fuck does she think I’ve got so many acres? The more acres, the more plots I have to bury the bodies.

“And he just waved a knife in your face,” I counter. Too sweet. “That was intense.” That was nothing. His brains splattered all over her pretty little dress would’ve been intense. That was nothing, but a little lesson in respect for Jack’s disrespectful ass. Walking through the party, I find Dan standing out front. Drinking a beer, he sends off some brothers with a wave, their bikes tearing out of the lot. Catching me, he looks at us, Lennon’s bare ass in the air. I could give a fuck less at this point. “You handle it?” He asks. “Yeah.” “He shot him in the arm,” Lennon

says to Dan, humor in her voice. Looking at Lennon, Dan smirks, “Oh yeah?” Fuck, he’s humoring her. “Yeah. It was ... interesting,” she mutters. “Just blew a hole in his arm. It was pretty gross.” “Take her home, brother,” Dan laughs, sending us on our way. Setting Lennon on her feet, she sways a little. I’ve no idea how much she’s had to drink, but from the cute little sway in her hips, I’m gonna guess a few. “You gonna make it, darlin’?” I place the helmet on her head. “Yep,” she says, letting her head bob around. “Don’t worry about me.” Too late for that shit. I’m in too deep now.

“Lets go home, babe.” “Okay,” she agrees, crawling on the bike behind me. Yeah, I’m so ready to get the fuck home with Lennon. “Hang on, darlin’.”

Lennon and I have fallen into a weird domestic routine. We spend half the damn day together, and in the evenings, she’s at the house, cooking and waiting for me. She’s everywhere. Wherever I go, she goes, and I like it that way. On my bike, in my bed, and in my life, I like her here with me. We fit, Lennon and I. I’ve never been comfortable with someone else the way I am with her. Somehow, we’ve

worked out and I’m good with it. It’s been a week since the party and not a damn thing has changed. She’s still here and she’s still in my space, but this time around, I get to fuck her, which makes this roommates thing so much fucking sweeter. There’s nothing better than a happy woman in your life, offering up pussy and a hot meal on a daily basis, not to mention her full attention. This shit could be why Tank and Mossy are always so goddamn happy. It’s kinda nice having someone around all the time who actually gives a fuck about you, and wants to spend time with you. Lennon is always happy to see me, always there when I need her to be.

Someone might say that’s why I’ve got a dog, but I’m not interested in fucking my dog or sleeping in the same bed as him. Lennon is where it’s at for me. But not tonight. No, tonight I’m down at the Y, when I’d much rather be at home with Lennon. “So what are we gonna do?” Dan asks, gnawing on his cigar, chomping angrily away at the thing. “We’ve exhausted all possibilities. Anyone got anything else?” Running an agitated hand through his slicked back black hair, I realize that the asshole resembles Gomez Addams in some weird way. “Come on, motherfuckers,” he huffs, pinning us all with a hard stare. Five weeks ago, we lost a brother.

No body and no cut. The only thing we have as proof is a picture of a mangled body, wearing a Hell’s Disciples cut, sent to Dan’s cell from a goddamn Road Raiders phone, but still, phones can be hacked or stolen. Money has come up missing, and now someone’s been seen digging around outside the club, wearing a Raiders patch, but it’s not enough to act just yet. This could be them, or someone trying to make it look like them. We have to be sure. We spitball, tossing around ideas, but nothing’s coming. Sure, we’ve got enemies, rival clubs, and your average Joe might hate us, but no one is out for blood at the moment, except for the Raiders. They’re looking to expand and

looking for new territory. They might’ve grown some balls, and finally decided to come after us. “Buck, your girl showed up about the time all this shit started happening,” Ben snaps, catching me off guard with his stupid fucking suggestion. Looking at him, he’s looking like he’s got it all figured out. “What are you trying to say?” Because if it’s what I think it is, I will break his goddamn face. “Just sayin’. She showed up right about the time all this shit started happenin’. What do you even know about the bitch?” Not much, but I’m not admitting that out loud. “I hope to fuck you’re not

suggesting its Lennon doing this shit.” I notice the volume of my voice is rising the more I think about his accusation. Lennon might be wild, and I might not know a fuck of a lot about her, but I do know she wouldn’t be doing this shit. That girl couldn’t slice anyone up, especially the way our brother was. “Might not be her doin’ it, but you ever think that bitch might be an informant or a damn snitch?” Ben has got some balls. As the newest Disciple, he’s pushing his fucking luck. “First, you call her a bitch again, I’m knocking your goddamn teeth out. Two, leave Lennon the fuck out of this.” Tank trusted her enough to bring her around his place. Dan trusted her enough

to let her stay here, and I trust her enough to let her live in my fucking house. All I know is, “Lennon isn’t doing shit.”

Lennon Standing on the porch, I listen to the wind howl through the branches. Watching the trees around the house bow and sway in the windy weather, I soak it all in. I do love a good storm. Leaves and pine needles swirl around at my feet, leaving little messes of discarded greenery everywhere. A misty rain blows around, whipping my hair into my face. I fight to keep it down, and from sticking to my forehead. Breathing in the cool breeze, I fill my lungs full before stepping off the porch. “Hey, buddy.” I pat Bill’s head, who’s sitting at my feet. He watches the trees with me, content to stay right here, but not me. No, I’m ready to run. I need

to go. Buck has been gone all day now. He left at sunrise. It’s now late afternoon, and I have no clue when he’ll be back. I’m done waiting on him. Plus, we’re out of edible food up here on the mountain. There’s a lifetime supply of jerky and canned food in the pantry, but it’s just not doing it. I desperately need a phone and something to do. Staring at the key ring hanging on a nail in the shop, I get the feeling Buck wouldn’t mind too much if I borrowed his truck. I mean, Buck didn’t specifically tell me to stay here, and he didn’t hide his keys from me. So, I figure why not? He’s not using the truck. I don’t plan on wrecking it either, so I don’t

think it’ll bother him if I run a few errands. It’s not like I’m joyriding or anything. Snatching the key off the nail, I tuck it into my pocket and make a run for the truck through the rain. Feet clomping through the mud puddles, I make it without making too much of a mess. Flinging the door open, I leap into the monster. Getting comfortable in the driver’s seat of the old black Chevy, I fire it up, letting the engine rumble to life. The old beast growls and grumbles with age, and protests the cold weather. I feel ya, old guy. Staring at the gear shifter, I search my mind for a lesson I had when I was fourteen, hoping like hell I remember a

fraction of what I was taught. Three on a tree. Only three gears to work with. It shouldn’t be too difficult, right? Bumping and rocking down the dirt road, it takes me about ten minutes before I can roll out of first gear and speed up. Jesus, this truck is high off the ground. I can barely see over the damn steering wheel, I think as I straighten my back to get a better look over the hood. It doesn’t help that it’s been a long fucking time since I’ve driven anything. My drive takes me a while, but before long, I’m off the gravel road and I’m on the highway with the sign of ‘The Y,’ looming off in the distance. Parking with extreme caution, I leave the truck at the end of the lot,

nowhere near any bikes, and well out of sight. I’d prefer to live through the day. With my luck, I’d back right over a row of bikes if I attempted front row parking. Walking into to the bar, I spot Rock sitting on a barstool, and Poncho pacing the other end of the room with a phone to his ear, deep in conversation. “Hey, Rock.” “Yo, Lennon.” Nodding at the empty seat next to him, I wait for the go ahead to take the seat. “You mind?” Nodding back, he smirks. He thinks I’m funny for asking, but I know better. Sitting down next to him, I prop my elbows up on the bar top and get comfy. “Where’s Buck,” Rock asks, looking between the door and me. I

consider his question for a half a second before a lie slides out easily ... too easily. “Out back, looking for a part or something,” I say, waving a dismissive hand towards the door. I know if I tell him I have no clue where Buck is, he’s going to ask how I got here, and well, that conversation will end in him calling Buck. A little white lie never hurt anyone anyways. I need a phone and to hit the store up before I’m back up the mountain, Buck none the wiser. No harm, no foul. Rock seems to believe me when he doesn’t push for more, and asks, “How you doin’?” Besides being bored, hungry, and in need of a phone, I’m

great. “I’m good.” Rock doesn’t ask if I want a beer when he barks the order at the prospect behind the bar. It’s probably because he doesn’t assume I’m driving. “Here ya go,” the prospect says, glancing at me quickly before looking away. Okay then. A loud bang comes from the end of the bar and we all whip our heads in the direction. Jess is standing down there, glaring in my general direction. If I know one thing for sure. It’s that Jess and I will never be friends. I smile at her, which only seems to deepen her hatred for me. Prospect touches her arm to get her attention, and then she turns her charm on

him. There’s a brief stare off between Jess and the prospect before Rock grunts, “The fuck is wrong with you two? Get the fuck back to work.” Jesus, those two are really fucking weird. Shaking my head in confusion, I focus on something I understand. “Hey, Rock, can I use the phone real quick?” “Sure thing. It’s in the back room.” “Thanks.” Sliding off the stool, I go in search of the phone. In the tiny stock room behind the bar is where phone hangs. It’s on the wall, right next to the door that leads back out to the floor. Putting the receiver to my ear, I listen to the dial tone, giving myself a minute to collect my shit. Taking a deep

breath, I punch in the same number I’ve called a few thousand times over the past few years. Some things just never change. It rings a couple of times before it’s picked up. It’s always answered. “Yeah?” A raspy, tired, familiar voice answers. “It’s me,” I say carefully into the phone, my voice flat and neutral. “Don’t play games with me.” Always so fucking paranoid. I hate making this call. “I know you’re trying to fuck with me.” I wait a beat, listening to the white noise in the background. “It’s Lennon.” “Baby?” This call was long overdue, but I definitely could’ve held

off longer. Why I keep putting myself through this, I’ll never understand. “How are you? Are you okay?” I ask, knowing I’ll never get a real answer, but I’m polite, nonetheless. “Fine. You’ve got money for me, baby.” Right to the point, as always. That wasn’t a question either. I wouldn’t be calling if I didn’t have money. I stopped calling for shits and giggles a long time ago. “Yeah, I’ve got some money for you. I’ll get it to you as soon as possible. Pay a couple of bills with it, will ya?” Even though I know it’ll go to everything under the sun, except the important things like food and bills. Who needs a roof over their head when they’ve got a

pocket full of drugs to keep them warm at night? “Don’t tell me what to do with it.” And with that, it’s time to end the call. “Yeah, okay. I’ll send it soon. Love you.” I hang up before I get an answer in return, knowing damn well there will be no returned words. I just hate being hung up on first. Leaning against the wall, I collect myself for a minute. Not much bothers me, but that call always seems to ruin my day. Where my life has lacked in consistency in almost everything important, it has never lacked in the need for and wanting of money. Cash is king in my life, always has been, and I

suspect it always will be, at least until the bloodsucker dies. Movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention. A head full of brown hair is standing the doorway. Jess is watching me with a curled lip. “Yeah?” I ask, sensing she has something nasty she’s dying to get off her chest. “Nothin’ bitch.” She snaps, letting the word bitch drag out of her puffy lips before disappearing back around the corner. I wish she’d just say whatever it is she wants to say to me, and just move on already. I have no idea what’s wrong with that girl, but I’m not in the mood to try and dissect the crazy. “Okey-dokey,” I huff out, more to

myself than to her as I walk back out into the bar after her. Rock’s still warming his stool, staring at a TV. Planting myself next to him, I ask, “So, is this place still a working bar?” With its broken windows, dirt covered floor, and one functioning toilet, the place seems like it’s on it’s last leg. “We’ve got our business license.” “Okay? I’m not sure I’m following you.” So, it is a working bar? “Means Dan owns this bar. We’re open to the public, but the public doesn’t seem too keen on eating in our fine establishment.” He says, waving a grand hand out towards this fine establishment. “So it’s a front.” I say outright. Not

sure why he’s beating around the bush. “We’re in good standings with the law.” I change the subject before I cross some sort of invisible line. “Can I get a burger here then?” “Burger sounds damn good.” Rock hums, getting off his stool. “Grab the buns and fix ‘em, baby doll. You ‘n me are ‘bout to make us some grub.”

Cheese fries, a burger, and a big glass of cold beer sit in front of me at the bar. I used the phone, and now I’m chatting and eating with Rock while Jess stomps and glares at me while she cleans. It’s been thirty minutes of her crazy eyes and grumbled threats. She really hates me.

Tossing her rag down on the counter, she jerks her purse from under the bar and stomps her high-heeled feet towards us. Fighting with the strap, she stops right in front of us with a sour face. She’s putting on quite a show. “I’m outta here,” she barks out at Rock, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Yeah, okay.” He shrugs, clearly not interested. He looks right over her shoulder at the TV showing some big game hunting channel in high-def. “I’ve gotta go pick up the kids.” Jess adds, shooting me a sneaky little brow quirk. Burger mid-bite, I stop and I stare. The Kids? “Uh huh. Drive safe,” Rock mutters absentmindedly, eating a fry. Without the

reaction she was looking for, she sighs and walks off towards the door, leaving the word kids hanging in the air. Kids? She has kids? Twisting in my seat, I look up at Rock and ask him, “You have kids with her?” Which is news to me. The way she said the kids, like they were some sort of secret or special circumstance, makes me think that statement was more for me than Rock. “No,” he answers, chewing slowly on his fry. Looking at me carefully, I see him weighing his words. Lies. He’s trying to come up with them. Loyal asshole. Rock’s a pretty big dude. Muscled and mean, I’m sure he’s scrappy, but I

swear to God, if he tries to feed me some line of bullshit about non-existent kids, I will punch him off his bar stool. I heard her. That bitch Jess was trying to snare me with that word, and it worked. I’m caught and I want answers. “No?” I repeat. And then it dawns on me ... Buck ... kids. Jess’s mean stares and glares. Their “special” relationship. Holy fuck. “Buck and her have ... kids?” I whisper shout, the words lodging themselves in the back of my throat, practically causing me to choke on them. Kids. The word sounds so foreign. How the hell did I not know this? “They have kids? Together? Buck and Jess?” My stomach does a nosedive right to my ass.

“Didn’t say that.” He answers, watching me. Evasive. True, he didn’t, but he also didn’t say they weren’t either. “But you didn’t not say it either.” I counter, draining the rest of my beer. Christ. “True. Jess and Buck, that shit’s complicated. Gotta talk to him about it.” Holy fuck, there is so much I do not know. Buck and that witchy woman have children together. Dammit!

13 - Confessions Buck The front door is locked when I try to open it, which isn’t normal. Usually it’s wide open with Lennon somewhere inside, or it’s unlocked and the little hippy is in the woods, frolicking somewhere in the grass. The locked door doesn’t make me fucking happy. I left the club, ready to get the fuck home and relax. Didn’t expect to find it empty. All thoughts of missing money and a dead brother are pushed aside. Fuck, I’ve gotta find the little hippy. The house is deserted, the woods are empty, and my truck is missing. That feeling surfaces, the one where shit

starts sinking in and it doesn’t feel good. It’s the same feeling I got two years ago―same place, same situation.

Kicking the front door open to the bar, I question the first asshole I see. “You seen Lennon?” Rock swivels in his seat, surprise on his face, like he’s fucking shocked to see me here. I know the fuck stick heard my bike. “What?” he asks, looking around me like he’s confused as hell. “She was here a little bit ago. Figured she left with you,” he says, motioning towards the empty seat next to him. Clearly, that isn’t the fucking case because I’m in here looking for her.

“Figured wrong. What did she say?” “Said you were out back gettin’ a part or somethin’. She used the phone, had some food, bullshitted with me ‘n left.” Something seems to dawn on him because his head sags and he starts shaking it slowly. “She fucked you, brother,” I tell him. She lied to him and he believed her shit. “She talked to Jess.” He mutters, and it’s all I need to hear. “Fuck.” She talked to Jess. That bitch has a big fucking mouth. Don’t I pay her to keep that shit closed? “She mentioned the kids,” Rock adds. Two years later, and she’s still

screwing with my goddamn life. Wasn’t everything enough for her? What more does she want from me? My left nut on a silver platter? “Full story?” I ask him, gauging where Lennon’s head might be. Jess has a way of getting deep inside your head, then fucking with it, and not in a good way. Not the way Lennon’s got in there and messed shit up. No, Jess scrambles that shit up and leaves it a bloody mess of mush. “No, but Lennon seemed ... weirded out.” No shit. “Where’d she go?” “Not sure, brother.” Fuck.

Drove around town like a fucking idiot, and I couldn’t find her. Went back up the mountain, wasted some damn gas, hoping she went home, but she wasn’t fucking there. Came back down to the bar and surprise, there she is. Lennon’s leaning against the truck and standing in front of her is Jess, with both the girls at her side. Fuck me sideways. This shit can’t be good. Tearing into the lot, I try like fuck not to dump my bike when I skid to a stop a few feet from them. Hopping off, I instantly look at Lennon, all in one piece. I can fucking breathe easy. She’s

standing there looking slightly annoyed as Jess gives her some crazy eyes. “Steal my truck?” I accuse Lennon, stepping in between the two of them. It sounds worse than I fucking intend it, but Jesus. I came home to find her and my truck gone. What am I supposed to think? Cocking her head, Lennon stares at me. “It’s not theft if I have the keys,” she says, pulling the ring from the pocket of her shorts. “I just needed to run a few errands.” She adds, letting the ring dangle from her finger. This shit is fucking stupid. I have a hard time believing anything anyone says unless I see it with my own two eyes, and the person to blame is standing in front of me, tapping her heels and

sighing like she has something better to do, other than causing shit, like usual. Jess sighs loudly and my attention is turned to the bitch with the big mouth, intent on ruining any chance of happiness I try to dredge up. “The fuck you doing here?” For the life of me, I can’t figure out what her problem is, other than she’s a miserable shrew. This shit is her fault. “Jess, answer me!” She flinches and frowns. I’m sure I’m getting real loud at this point, but I just don’t give a flying fuck. “Buck,” she huffs and takes a step back, scared I’m about to lose my shit, which is totally accurate. I hate her and she knows it. “Get to fucking explaining.” Her

shift ended a few hours ago, so she had no damn reason to be here. “Don’t do this in front of the kids,” she scolds me. Man, she’s got a way with words. The kids, twisting it to sound like so much more that it is. Glaring between her and those kids, Jess gets the hint. “Go inside and find Uncle Rocky,” she tells them, looking down at the two adorable girls standing next to her. I don’t follow suit. I hate looking at their perfect little faces. I hate them almost as much as I hate her. Is it wrong to hate faultless children? Fuck yeah, I’m sure it is, but tell that to my torn to shit life and crushed heart. Yeah, I said it. That cunt crushed my heart and I didn’t even love

her. Once the little people disappear inside, I turn back to her, ready to rip her a new asshole. “Like I said, what the fuck are you doing, bringing them around here?” She knows the rules. They were set in stone a long time ago. “Jesus, they’re children, Buck,” Jess growls, stomping her foot for emphasis. I know exactly what they are, but it doesn’t mean they need to be here, rubbed in my face. “Makes no difference to me. What do you want?” Lennon shifts to my right, the gravel crunching under her feet. Out of my peripherals, I see her chewing on her lip. I hate that Lennon has to witness this because I don’t have the slightest

idea how to explain something that sounds so goddamn stupid when told, yet feels fucking horrible when lived. What am I supposed to tell her? “The kids need pull-ups,” Jess bites out, picking at her nails. She clearly thinks I’m just gonna fork over the cash to get her out of my face like I usually do, but not today. “Not my problem. You got your money this week. You need ...” I don’t get any further. Lennon walks off, her shoulders squared and her head held high. Rounding the truck, she hops in, fires it up, and rips outta the lot. Fuck. “Fuck! Jess, didn’t you get enough from me a few years ago? Why the hell do you gotta keep fucking with me?” I

don’t understand her need to continually drag me, bloodied and bruised, through the fucking mud. Wasn’t the damage great enough two years ago? I swear she’s out for that left nut of mine. “Buck?” She turns on the water works; wet eyes and the sniffles. She’s can’t work me over, never was able to, so I have no idea why she’s bothering now. “Just take your kids and go home, Jess.” I’m so beyond fed up with her shit. “Buck, come on. Let’s―” “Get the fuck outta here,” I scream at her, cutting off her attempt at making me feel bad. I don’t give her a second look.

Hopping back on my bike, I take off towards the mountains, towards Lennon.

Lennon is outside in the yard when I pull up. The wind is blowing her hair around. She looks beautiful. Wearing a long, black, flowy skirt and white tank, she looks fucking perfect. Jesus, I traded up, big time. “Lennon,” I holler, but she doesn’t stop. She doesn’t even look at me. My heart falls straight outta my ass. No woman in her right mind would want an asshole in an MC. We don’t have the cleanest of records, or keep the best company, but add in some baggage like Jess and you’ve got nothing. I’m fucking

lucky Lennon even let me put my filthy hands on her in the first place. I watch her walk off. Walking through the grass, she disappears into the woods, out of sight. I know exactly where she’s going, and it’s the last place I want to visit right at this moment, but I follow her. Everything has already gone to shit in a pretty little handbasket. “Lennon?” She stops for just a moment before she picks up her pace. “Why wouldn’t you have just told me?” She asks. She turns around, walking backwards, staring at me and waiting for a good answer. “Kids are no biggie.” No biggie, huh. Why? Why would I have told her? Offered her up my sad little story like a

bitch, whining and crying about something stupid. What kind of pussy would that haved painted for her of the big bad biker she feels safe with? There is no easy way to explain that crap. “Come on, Lennon, just stop,” I plead. The farther away she walks, the less hope my black heart has here. Turning back around, she walks purposefully, away from me, towards my dream turned nightmare. My unfinished life on a cracked foundation sits sadly in the middle of a clearing. How very poetic. “Tell me, Buck,” She demands. It’s the first time I’ve ever heard her demand anything since meeting her. “Darlin’.” I’m not sure what to say

to her. Walking up the cement steps, she stops and smiles encouragingly at me. Why she likes me so damn much, I’ll never fucking understand. Sitting her ass on the foundation, Lennon pats the empty space next to her. Instead of shutting me out, she wants to hear. “Sit with me.” How can I deny her? I do, and I spill my pathetic guts because what do I have to lose? She’s either going to leave or stay, whether I talk or not makes not an ounce of fucking difference. “Figure you’ve gathered that Rock and Jess are related,” I start at the beginning and she nods. I’ve never actually had this talk with anyone. Most

of my brothers know because they lived this shit with me. Some know it all, and some just know the basics. Either way, it’s not something I talk about. It’s not something I want to talk about. “I met Jess three years ago when she moved back to town to live with her brother. She wasn’t anything special, but she was fun and a challenge at the time. I chased, she ran, we fucked, and she got pregnant.” I stop. It dawns on me that that’s all there was to it. Jess was nothing to me then, and she’s even less of a nothing to me now. Fucking sad how my dick led me astray. “We knew each other all of two months before there was a baby involved. If it weren’t for a baby, she

would’ve been out on her ass because at the time, I sure as shit wasn’t looking for an old lady, but there was a baby, so I did what I thought was right. I married her thinking I’d give my baby a family.” It made the most sense to me then. Now, I figure it was the second biggest mistake of my life, first being fucking that bitch. Lennon doesn’t gasp in shock or have some bitchy comment. Instead, she just stares straight ahead, listening intently to me lay it all out there for her. “I didn’t want an old lady, didn’t want kids, but I sure the fuck didn’t want a wife. But I had them in spades at that point. Jess was pregnant and there wasn’t shit I could do about it. Took a

while, but I warmed up to the idea. We bought shit; crib, diapers, the whole thing. I started this house, something I’d been saving to do a long time before I met her, but I wanted my baby to come home to something nice, so I started working on it more. Less of a spare time thing, and more of an everyday thing.” And I did. Jesus, I spent a lot of time working on this thing. Clearing the land, laying the foundation, cutting wood, framing, and all that good shit. Looking up at my half-finished dream, I flinch and look away. Building this place used to make me happy, but now just looking at it makes me sick. I should’ve burned this pile of sticks to the ground a long time ago, after it

became tainted. “It’s a beautiful spot to build,” Lennon comments, finally speaking. She looks up at the framed walls fondly. Wish like hell I could look at it with untainted eyes. “It is.” Looking at the surrounding landscape, with Lennon here next to me, I see some of that beauty I once did. The snow capped mountain range off in the distance, rolling hills, miles of open fields to one side, and dense forest on the other, and the river running right down the middle. Lennon brings a lot of that missing beauty back for me. “Keep going,” She urges, leaning into my shoulder, giving it a little bump.

I’d rather sit here and revel in Lennon and all that happy shit she seems to bring with her wherever she goes. Lil was right about her. There is something about Lennon, something special, something otherworldly. Wherever she goes, she brings euphoria with her, leaving you utterly infatuated with her. Even in the worst of situations or memories, Lennon is that bright spot. She’s the sun and moon. “Buck?” Right. The story of my untimely fall from shit to hell. “So, I got used to the idea of a baby. Jess was a bitch, but she was the mother of my baby, so I figured I could deal. I wasn’t happy with her, but I was cool with the idea of a baby. Hell, over

a few months, I even started to fall in love with the idea of that little person ... my little person. That little person turned out to be two little people.” What a goddamn shock that was. Not one baby, but two. Jesus, what luck, huh? “Twins,” Lennon whispers, touching my arm. First time she’s touched me today, and that shit is like a balm to a burn. “Two little people to love.” Thinking about it makes me sick to my stomach. Loving something that was never yours is a tough pill to swallow. It hurts and stings, but it’s survivable. I survived, but came out jaded in the end. “They aren’t yours, are they?” Lennon’s put two and two together. She

knows the answer to her question. They aren’t now and they weren’t back then. I’d never turn my own damn kids away. I don’t want children, but if I had them, I’d love them. “Do you think I like that my old lady cheated on me, constantly, and that the babies I’m bragging about, building and buying shit for, aren’t mine? I spent nine months falling in love with a lie. So yeah, I don’t like talking about it. That’s why I didn’t tell you. I don’t fucking lie, but I don’t broadcast it either. It’s fucking embarrassing how she played me.” I let it sink in, let Lennon digest it and make up her mind if it’s worth hanging on to me, or if she’s better off

cutting her losses. Both of us are staring off into the woods. Lennon’s comforting hand is still on my arm, neither of us with anything meaningful to say. “That’s terrible,” she finally says. Not what I was expecting her to say. I figured she’d have questions and complaints, something to bitch about. “I’m sorry that happened to you.” I’m not. I dodged a bullet. “Don’t wanna know why the bitch is still around?” Besides the fact that she’s Rock’s sister. She was an old lady, my old lady, her loyalty would have been with me and her cheating would have got her eighty-sixed for life, but I just couldn’t do that to the two little people I once thought I loved.

“Only if you want to tell me.” I do want to tell her. I want her to know that I try, even if it kills me, because I might be a royal asshole, but I’m not nearly as cold-hearted as Jess. “Jess is a shit mom. Those girls would go without if it weren’t for me and Rock.” If it weren’t for Rock, the club, and me, those kids would be in rags, starving to death in an alley somewhere. “Even though they’re not yours.” It’s not a question. I might be a prick, and I might hate the idea of those girls, but I just can’t let myself let them hurt. “We let her work there so Rock can watch her, make sure she comes to work. I give her money because those girls

need something out of a shitty situation.” If I can make their lives just a little better, I will, even if I got the shit end of the stick. “Are you in their lives?” “No. They’ve only seen me a few times, and they don’t know who I am. I don’t want to confuse them. They’ve got Rock and their grandparents in their lives. They don’t need me.” And I don’t need the reminder when I see their faces. “How’d you find out they weren’t yours?” “Had a paternity test done in the hospital. Rock suggested it, just to cover my ass.” Thank fuck for that. Three days later, I found out and that was that. Moved Jess into her own apartment, left

her some cash, gave up my patch for a nomad one, and hit the road. I went running. “Wow,” Lennon breathes, resting her head on my shoulder. Yeah. Wow is a goddamn understatement.

Lennon “So the house?” I ask cautiously. Thinking of its wood bones, raw and exposed, half finished. It has the makings of a lovely house with its perfect views and miles of solitary quiet. It would have been the perfect place to raise children and grow a family. “Started it before they were even in my life. It was my dream, but they were motivation to finish it.” There’s a pain there when talking about it. “Why didn’t you finish it? It’s too lovely to give up on.” The circumstances might be shit, but the house is too great to let rot away out here in the rain and wind. It deserves to be called a home. “Ran out of money.” He shrugs, but

I can tell it’s painful. He had to let his dream go at the hands of someone he hated. “Oh,” I murmur, fiddling with a braided bracelet around my wrist, twisting it slowly, watching the trees sway. Buck hurts and it hurts me. We’ve only known each other a short time, but there’s something there, a connection. Whether it’s a friendship or more, it doesn’t matter. I like him, and I’m pretty sure he feels the same way about me. “That bitch cleaned out my bank account before the divorce,” he sighs, scrubbing at his face. “Why didn’t I go after her? I was too goddamn embarrassed. My wife cheated on me and got pregnant by the dude. Then she

jacked me for my money. Not something I wanna go around broadcasting, so I let it go. She’s doesn’t have a way to pay me back, so what was I gonna do? Kill her? Leave those kids motherless? I brushed that shit under the rug and moved on.” “Do you hate this house?” I ask him, hoping his answer is no. After everything, I would understand if he did. “I did until I saw you here,” he says and looks at me. “You make it so much fucking better.” I feel the same damn way about him. My life was good until I met Buck, and after meeting him, it’s been so much better. “But I’ve got the other house. Maybe I’ll sell this land and the house to

someone else,” he adds, looking up longingly at the house. I really hope he doesn’t do that. Buck got dealt one shitty hand after the next. Jess is not a bitch. No, she’s a terrible person. There is no heart there in her chest, just an empty space, void of anything worthwhile. To kick someone while they’re down takes a special kind of heartless human. “I’m sorry about everything,” I tell him with all honesty. From someone who has hardly anything, I can honestly say I feel for him. Losing it all leaves a hole that not much can fill. “Don’t be,” he waves me off, standing up. His big body looms over me for a second before he starts to walk

away without a second look at the house, and it breaks my heart. “Come on, darlin’. Let get the fuck outta here.” “Would you finish it if you could?” “In a fucking heartbeat.” If he had the money ...

The wind is really picking up, screaming though the shop, while I sit on an old wood crate, watching Buck chop wood. “Babe, you don’t have to sit out here with me,” he says, letting the axe drop to the dirt and leaning against it. Oh, but I do. He removed his shirt. How could I leave now? Wearing nothing but a dirty,

worn-out pair of black Carhartts and boots, I get a full view of every tattooed inch of his stomach, chest, and back. Buck’s not wearing his glasses, and he needs to brush his hair. His beard is a bushy mess, and his hands are permanently stained as he grips the axe handle. He’s still just so unconventionally sexy. “I don’t mind,” I say, waving him off, but really, I’m just fanning myself. Watching him chop wood has become my new favorite thing to do. All that muscle at work makes me want to do wicked things to him. Laughing, he shakes his head at me. I’m funny today. Buck stacks and I stare. Buck chops

and I stare harder. But, when Buck hefts a giant round of wood over his head, I damn near drool. Chopping for a bit, he stops midswing and turns to me. “So, I told you my shit situation. You ever gonna tell me yours?” I stop staring and look down at my chuck covered feet, avoiding his unforgiving eyes. No, I’m never going to tell you if I don’t have to. “Not much to tell,” I say, feeling guilty the moment the lie passes my lips. Buck was so honest with me, and all I can offer him are sweet little lies. Part of me doesn’t like talking about it, and the other doesn’t want to burden him with my truth. “Why don’t I believe that shit?”

Because it’s all lies. My life, my secrets, they’re as deep as the deepest ocean. They’re as dark and as cold and neverending. “Give me something, babe.” I dig down deep for something harmless. “I never knew my dad.” Well, that’s not entirely true. I knew he was a piece of shit, and I knew his name was Randy. “He was never in my life.” Even if he did have the chance. Patterns have a way of repeating themselves. Vicious cycles, a neverending song on repeat. My mother and me, we’re a lot alike in many ways. She was never settled, could never stay put. She loved to wander. A runaway at a young age, she found a home within the walls of MC clubs all over the country,

and that’s how I found myself here, years later. Bouncing from bed to bed, scheme to scheme, drug to drug, my mother never stopped. Even when I was born, she carried on until she physically couldn’t, and then her ways were passed onto me, demanded of me. I bounce and I wander. I avoid the bed hopping and drugs, but I follow in her sad footsteps in every other way. “What about your mom?” There is absolutely no emotion on my face when he asks me the question because there’s no love there, only obligation. My mother wasn’t horrible to me, nor was she neglectful. She had zero interest in me when I was young. I was fed and I was clothed, but beyond that, I was on

my own until she needed me. Now she depends on me to feed her the drugs that keep her alive and functioning. She depends of me to do whatever I’ve got to do to keep the only family I have alive and comfortable. My mother doesn’t care what I have to do to take care of her, as long as she gets what she needs when she needs it. Lie, cheat, steal, whatever it is that helps feed her sickness. That’s the thing about her and where we differ. She only cares about herself. She’s number one, and everyone else is barely pulling up second. “Eh, we don’t talk much.” That’s true. Hearing her voice just sucks the life out of me, so avoid it. “Any family?” Anything to change the subject.

“Had a brother,” he says abruptly, his voice raw. “Died a couple of years ago in combat.” “I’m sorry.” “It fucking sucks. Miss the shit out of him.” “What about your parents?” “Married since high school, my dad was a mechanic, and my mom stayed at home with my brother and me. They didn’t hate each other, but they didn’t really love each other either.” Like fifty percent of the married population. “Guess it was a marriage outta routine. Same shit, just a different day for forty years, and they’re still at it. Figure that’s why I gravitated towards this outlaw kinda life. Different shit every day.

Adrenaline, excitement. New pussy, daily,” he laughs and shoots me a sly look. Laughing, I say, “New pussy every day sounds like the perfect reason to join an MC.” Buck nods, a smile on that rough face of his. “Hate the monotonous sorta shit. MC life suits this motherfucker.” “Me too.” Buck and I have a lot more in common than someone might think. He might be smack dab in the middle of that MC lifestyle, but I’ve skated the outskirts of the same damn lifestyle all my life. Neither of us happy with the boredom average, everyday life offers. And both of us have that need to run engrained into our DNA. “Average

doesn’t work for me.” “Yeah, babe. That’s why me and you work. We’re two birds of the same goddamn feather.” Buck and I, two people from two different, yet similar worlds, have found something beautiful worth hanging onto in the other.

14 - Fishin’ In The Dark Buck Here’s the thing about Lennon. She makes the best out of a shit situation, and all with a pretty smile on her goddamn face. She doesn’t bitch. She doesn’t complain. Lennon rolls with the punches, all while enjoying what life has to offer. Fuck, I admire that shit about her. There’s something there. I don’t analyze it because I probably wouldn’t even understand it. All I know is it’s fucking beautiful. Yeah, I haven’t known her long, but that’s not saying much. I went all in for

my brothers, guys that’d been giving me their worst for an entire year, trying to break me as a prospect, but I believed in their cause. I believed in it enough to lay my life down for them and follow them into the bowels of hell on more than one occasion. So, what’s the difference with Lennon? I don’t know what the fuck is going on between us. Not even sure I want to know. All I know is I like her, having her around, and in my life. She makes me feel good, and I figure anything that makes you feel good is worth keeping.

It’s Sam’s birthday, and we’re having a little barbeque for her here at the club.

The club and a couple of her friends are hanging out for the evening. According to her, in two weeks, it’s girls weekend in Vegas, and apparently, that includes Lennon, but we’ll see about that shit. Not sure I want to let her go just yet. Swear, this shit is more for Dan than it is for Sam. A celebration of him surviving her bitchy ass a whole year. Rain has forced us inside, and the bitches are not happy about it. Mossy’s old lady is bitching about being inside, busting his balls. Like the dipshit can control the weather. Some broad Tyler is sticking it to is whining in his room, complaining about the horrible lighting in the bathroom, and how she can’t do her make-up in there. I can hear her

moaning at him through the paper-thin walls. Fuck, it’s sad and pathetic. And here I’ve got Lennon, sitting on the bar, swinging her legs and singing along to some old ass country song playing on the jukebox. She’s as happy as a pig in shit. Nothing could ruin her day. Listening to these bitches makes me appreciate her even more for what she is, a goddamn angel compared to these ungrateful hags. Standing in front of her, I lean in to get a little taste, but I’m shot down when Lennon plunks the glasses from my pocket, sticks them on her face, and starts belting out ‘Fishin’ In The Dark’ to me. The woman sings it word for word, occasionally passing her invisible mic to

Rock, who fucking sings it with her. They’re feeding off each other. It might the dumbest shit I’ve ever seen, and it might also be the funniest thing I’ve ever witnessed at the same damn time. “Sing with me, Buck,” she hollers loudly. Yeah, not happening. “Stop.” “I just can’t help it!” “Babe, seriously. What the fuck?” “Buck, we’ll be fallin’ in love in the middle of the night. Just moooovin’ slow.” She brings it home with her and Rock belting out the chorus loudly in my general direction. “You n’ me goin’ fishin’ in the dark.” I’m stuck watching her sing, and I can’t help the smile. Lennon is infectious.

She finishes it up with a “Thank you, and good night” before breaking into a huge grin for me. She’s pleased as fucking punch she got a smile out of me, something she’s the goddamn master at. “Fuckin’ love that shit,” she declares. Rocking on her ass on the bar top, another old ass country song starts and she smirks at me, ready to go again. I don’t have a fucking clue as to what’s wrong with this woman. “Couldn’t tell. That was something special.” I applaud her. “You loved it.” “Before you get going again, let’s eat.” Handing me another beer from behind the bar, Lennon slides my glasses

up on top of her head, catching her hair with them, and pulling it out of her face. She’s beautiful. I stopped wearing my sunglasses once I realized Lennon wasn’t going to bust my balls about my eyes. She didn’t care, my brothers didn’t give a shit, and I don’t give a flying fuck about my eyes. The only person who cared is sitting across the bar with a sour pinch on her dollar store, made-up face. It’s nice not giving a shit.

I knew it was coming. Jess was over in the corner, stewing and drinking, and looking for reason to be a cunt. Sitting in the corner booth, feeding off Cinnamon

and her hate, Jess was building it up. Knew it was only a matter of time before she came over here and started in on me. Too fucking bad for her that I’m too happy to give a shit. Jess is fucking pissed. Her bloodshot eyes are blazing, and her arms are crossed under her fake tits, squeezing them outta her top. She’s also tapping her foot vigorously, like it makes a fuck of a difference while she stands in front of me. Jess looks Lennon up and down. Nothing nice about the way she does it either. “What, is she your old lady now?” She asks nastily, and when I don’t answer, she adds, “Are you her boyfriend,” spitefully. That shit is so

goddamn juvenile. Of course, Jess would say some stupid shit like that. For her, it’s impossible not to label things. “Jess, don’t fucking start.” “How could you want that,” she nods over at Lennon, “over me?” Well, that’s fucking easy. “We were good, Buck.” There was nothing good about Jess and me. We weren’t friends. We weren’t even nice to each other. With Lennon, it’s so damn different. “Lennon is mine, and I’m hers. That’s all that fucking matters.” Jess’s face pales and her mouth drops open. Not sure why she’s so surprised. Since the moment Lennon walked into my life, shit has changed. It was small changes at

first, but things changed nonetheless. Jess might be a bitch, but she’s not fucking stupid. She knows Lennon is something more to me, something she never was. Not one fucking clue what Lennon and me are, but we’re something Jess could never touch, no matter how hard she tries. Lennon and me, we’re unfucking-touchable. “So, you’re her boyfriend,” she repeats the lame title with a pathetic sniffle. Now she’s sad about it. Lennon’s sitting next to me, her fine ass on the bar top and her legs swinging happily off the side as she drinks her beer and watches the free show. Jess just doesn’t get it, and she never will.

“Lennon, you want a boyfriend?” Her response is a snorted laugh. Yeah, that’s what I thought. We are what we are to each other. There’s no label needed, and I’m fucking good with that. I’ve got Lennon and she’s got me, and right now, that’s all that matters. “Jess, get the fuck outta here with your shit.” She gapes at me for a second before snapping her mouth shut. “Fuck you both. Lennon ain’t everything you think she is, and when that shit blows up in your face, I’m gonna laugh,” Jess says, sashaying out the door, letting it slam shut behind her flat ass. Jess is right about that. Lennon isn’t everything I think she is, she’s so much more.

Leaning into Lennon, I wrap a hand around the back of her neck, jerking her lips to mine. Now I need a taste.

Standing out back with Dan and Tags, I take a drag of my smoke, listening to the two of them talk bikes. “Want to modify the engine,” Tag says, nodding over at his bike. Dan eyes it and shakes his head. “You make it any louder, Sam ain’t gonna get on the back of it.” “Not like she’s gettin’ on the back now anyway,” Tags retorts bitterly. Jesus, Sam and Tags. Now there’s a soap opera for the motherfucking ages. Those two just can’t get it together.

“She’s like her mother,” Dan spits, shaking his head. “God love her, but she’s stuck up, just like her mom.” Dropping my smoke on the ground, I grind it out with my boot and grab the door, ready to run for the hills. “And that is my cue to get the fuck back inside, ya pack of pussies,” I tell them, pulling the door open. I’m not interested in listening to them cry over their female problems. Back inside, I look for Lennon. I left her on the bar, sitting next to Rock and Mossy. Rock and Mossy are still there, but Lennon isn’t. A quick scan of the room and I catch Lennon, tucked back in a corner, and one of Sam’s friends is crowding her. Not fucking happening.

“Listen, I’m with―” Lennon objects, but the fucks got his hands on her face and his body in her space. “Come on, don’t fuckin’ tease me.” The guy says, walking into her, pushing her back against the wall, and I swear to fuck, everything in me, every instinct I have, screams at me to kill the motherfucker. “I’m not,” Lennon says, pushing against the guy’s hands. Her head shakes from side to side, vehemently disagreeing with the puke as he tells her, “You’ll like it.” Her eyes are big and nervous as she scans the room. I know she’s looking for me, and that shit makes it even worse. I pretty much lose my shit, and it’s

not fucking pretty. Wish I could say I gave it a little thought, maybe a little concern, but there is none. I could give a fuck less at this point. I’ve got no problem with putting my hands on a motherfucker ... well, fists, that is. Jerking the guy away from her, I coldcock him one, right to the mouth. My fist meets teeth and flesh, and I feel fucking vindicated. Any part of your body that touches hers, you’re not getting back, and that is a fucking promise.

Lennon “Shit!” Staggering around, the guy’s clutching his mouth, shouting gargled threats at Buck. Blood’s oozing through his fingers, dripping down his hands. I’m standing in the corner, blinking rapidly, my mind trying to catch up. Buck’s pacing, yelling out his own threats at the guy who’s lost in his pain, paying him no attention now. Everyone is watching; the guys are laughing, and the girls are gaping. Holy shit. “Come into my fucking club and touch my girl. Disrespectful little shit,” Buck rants. “I should put a bullet between your eyes,” he says, making like he’s going to pull his gun. “Got a hole in

my yard with your fucking name on it.” “Buck,” I say loud enough to get his attention. Looking over at me, he just stares, his eyes wild. I’m not going to argue, the guy was getting grabby. Assuming I was up for grabs, he pushed me into the corner before I even had the chance to react, and within seconds, Buck was already on him, but I’m not sure it’s worth having to dig a hole out back. “Fuck you!” The guy slurs through his own blood. Buck snaps. “No, fuck you!” He roars, lunging at the guy again, but Dan steps between them, stopping Buck. “Get the fuck outta here,” Dan booms, shoving the guy towards the

door. “And you calm the fuck down,” Dan shouts at Buck. “Take Lennon up to a room.”

It took Buck a solid thirty to calm down. He paced and he raved, plotted murder and threatened lives. I rolled him a joint and I handed him a drink, and finally, he let it go. I let him fuck me hard. He took it out on me and I enjoyed every second of it. I’m sore. Buck’s sleeping next to me, but I’m wide awake. There’s something oddly fun about sleeping in the motel out back of the bar, wrapped up in gold sheets. The rooms are horrible, and great at the same time.

The décor is appalling in the best way. It seems I have a soft spot for the seventies, even if I wasn’t alive during them. The shag carpet and gold bedspread make me happy. Something about the seventies that calls to my heart. Lying on an old lumpy mattress in the seventies inspired room, I stare up at the stained ceiling. My head is resting on Buck’s bulky arm. On his side, one arm under my head, and the other rested over my hip, he sleeps soundly. He fell asleep an hour or so ago, but I just can’t find the sleep I desperately crave. Instead I’m lying here, thinking of Buck and his wild temper, about how much I like living here, and about what I feel for Buck. Thinking about what Jess

had said earlier. I’m not everything Buck thinks I am. He gets me, sure, and we vibe big time, but how long is that going to last? Until I have to run again? How’s he going to feel about me then? The idea of leaving tears open that empty hole inside of me, picking away at the never healing scab. I don’t want to leave, but it’s what I do. It’s all I know. Buck’s been through a lot, lost a lot, and it kills me to think I’ll just be another loss added to his list. “Thinking pretty hard over there, darlin’,” Bucks gruff voice cuts through the empty night. “Care to share?” “Nothing. Just can’t sleep.” I lie. I’m thinking about him. With a growl, Buck jerks me closer.

Pulling my body farther into his, he runs a rough hand down my side to my thigh. “I can remedy that.” “Can you?” “Trust me, I can.” Fingers skim along my naked thigh, drawing circles on my skin. I melt. The moment he gets his hands on me, I lose all sense. I want him. I want to feel him all around me, in me, on me. There’s something about losing yourself in someone else. It’s a desperate need that’s so beautiful, and so fucking scary. Covering my body with his, Buck looks down at me, wild intensity in his eyes. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I pull him in close, needing to feel

him on me. “How do you want it?” My body shudders in response to his words. The deep hint of something menacing in his voice, makes my pussy clench. “Slow.” I want to savor it. Leaning back on his heels, his hands trace my stomach, pushing up my tank. I watch him, mesmerized by his big hands as they cup my tits. Playing with my nipples, he tugs softly, and I about lose my mind. Licking my lips, I hold in the moan teasing at my lips. Buck growls, “Keep looking at me like that and there’s no way in hell I can go slow.” Touching me, trailing fingers over every inch of exposed skin, he plays

with me until I’m wet. He teases my body, getting me right where he wants me―a wet, needy mess. “Don’t fuck with me,” I warn him. I’m a woman on the edge here. I need him and he knows it. “You needy, baby?” He asks, leaning down into me. Sucking a nipple into his mouth, he bites down and chuckles softly when I buck against him. He plays for a few more minutes, until I’m sure I’m going to kill him if doesn’t fuck me. I’m starting to rethink the whole slow thing. “Buck,” I warn, but in an instant, he’s suited up and pushing into my body in one swift thrust. My back bows off of the bed and my toes curl.

It’s bliss, pure fucking bliss. Something like relief and euphoria swamp my senses. “Ahhh,” I moan, completely satisfied. In and out, Buck works slowly, building a sweet torturous friction in my body. “More,” I gasp. I’m desperate for more. I need it, but I’m not exactly sure what it is I need, but I know that he knows. Dragging in and out of me, he grinds into my clit with each thrust, and I swear I see stars. “Faster ... harder,” I beg. “Yeah?” He teases, and stops. Gripping his biceps, I dig my fingers in, nails cutting flesh. “Yes.” “Whatever you want baby.” He

slams into me, pressing me into the mattress. He hits me hard, so hard I feel it in my stomach. There’s a thin sheen of sweat building on his chest, coating his tattoos, and I swear to God, nothing has ever been sexier. I watch him, lost in us. “Harder,” I urge him on, meeting him thrust for thrust. “You want it hard, baby? Show me how hard. Touch yourself,” he demands. I do it, because nothing has felt better. My body sings, high on Buck. Looking into his eyes, something dark passes between us, something he’s fighting desperately to cling to. “Buck, please.” He’s holding out on me. Everything in me is wound tight and ready to snap at his command. He owns

me in this moment. “Deeper.” Every stroke, every inch, hits deep inside of me, sending shock waves through my body. Buck teases me to the brink, taking me there and pulling me back with each stroke. “Do it, baby, let it go.” I do. I explode, completely falling apart. Buck follows, groaning a deep and satisfied “Fuck.” His body rocks and his cock throbs. Hand in my hair, he jerks on it hard, pulling my lips to his, devouring my mouth. He kisses me with intensity, with need. Pulling away, he lies back on the bed and pulls me with him, laying me on top. “Now, get some sleep, darlin’.”

He doesn’t have to tell me twice.

The sound is deafening, instantly ripping me from my sleep. A quick succession of monstrously loud pops scream through the silence. The sound of wood splintering, glass shattering, and metal hitting metal follows. Pop! Pop! Pop! The sound that follows each pop is louder, meaner, and stronger. A boom echoes off the mountains before another deafening boom follows in its wake. I shoot up, just as a bullet whistles by my face, connecting with the mirror above the old sink. The glass explodes and shatters. Shards of glass rain down

into the old, icky carpet. “Fuck.” It all happens within seconds. Buck is up out of bed at the same time, the instant the first pop and boom sounded, but it feels like a lifetime. Throwing an arm across my chest, Buck damn near clotheslines me in the process of pushing me back, flat on the bed. Leaping off the side, he jerks on my arm, silently pulling me across the bed and onto the floor with him. Opening my mouth the speak, Buck jerks his head back and forth, holding a finger up to his lips, effectively shutting my words down. My heart beats wildly in my chest. I can’t hear anything above my heartbeat and the flow of blood

rushing through my ears. My stomach rolls and my head pounds. What the fuck is happening? Staring at the pea green carpet, I blink back the daze. Fog from sleep dissipates when I see Buck jerking on his jeans a foot away from me. Holy fuck! What is he doing? Lacing his boots, he goes for a closet, then grabs my hand. “Get in there,” He barks in a harsh whisper. Pushing me towards the open door, I don’t argue. Who would when he replaces me in the closet for the shotgun he pulls out? Sitting on the closet floor, I watch through the slots in the paneled door as Buck walks to the motel door and throws

it wide open. Has he lost his fucking mind? Those were some goddamn gunshots! People out there are shooting at us. There’s no more noise. No voices, no shots ... nothing. There’s an eerie quiet as Buck just stands there, gun ready, his naked back to me. In short, quick, jerky hand movements, Buck gestures to someone I can’t see. Looking over his shoulder at me, he gives me a sad smile and whispers, “Cover your ears.”

15 - Shootin’ Blind Buck I shoot blindly. Shotgun in hand, I spray a line of shells into the darkness. I can’t see more than a couple hundred yards into the woods directly in front of me, and in the clearing to my left, I can only see about a mile and a half out, but I don’t see a goddamn thing worth shooting at. Somewhere out there, a couple cocky assholes are shooting at me, but fuck if I can return the favor. I know they can see me, their bullets riddled in the side of the motel let me know they’ve got eyes on the place. Someone knew we were here tonight, and exactly where to

shoot. Looking around, I see Rock standing on the roof of the bar with Mossy at his back, both armed to the teeth. Poncho is out there somewhere, scouting. At the other side, about four miles away, I know Dan’s already on patrol. There’s no way in hell he slept through that shit. Not how I saw my night going. Standing half-naked, shotgun in hand, and Lennon in a damn closet is not my idea of a good night. Staring out of the doorway into nothing, I start thinking this is all one related thing; the dead brother, the missing money, and now the shots. Someone is out for blood. It’s nothing

new. I think at some point in time, all of us shit-heads have had a bounty out on us. In this line of work, it’s pretty damn impossible not to piss someone off. Footsteps behind me startle the fuck out of me. Spinning around, I make moves for the shotgun, only to see Lennon standing there, looking like a deer caught in headlights. “Jesus, darlin’. You’re gonna get yourself shot sneaking up on me like that.” “What just happened?” Lennon whispers back, peeking around from behind me out the door. “Those were gunshots, right?” “Right, and there could be more, so take your cute little ass back inside.”

“What? You could get shot standing here too.” Like I don’t know that. I might survive a couple of holes in me, but I’m not sure Lennon could, and I’d rather not find out. “Better me than you.” Waiting it out, I listen and look for something, anything, but I don’t find a anything. Sitting on the bed with Lennon, I wait. The punk bitches must’ve ran on back to whatever hole they crawled out of. Thirty minutes later, there’s a knock on the door, and Lennon leaps a fucking foot. “What was that?” She asks, looking around. “The door.” Fuck, she’s cute. Standing on the other side of the

door is Dan, and he doesn’t look happy to be awake. Pistol in hand, hanging by his side, he’s standing there looking tired as hell. “Someone’s shootin’ at us.” “Yeah, I heard.” I confirm, gesturing him in, but he doesn’t move, just keeps glancing over his shoulder as he stands in front of the door. “Can’t come in. I got motherfuckers to hunt!” Dan yells the word loudly over his shoulder. “Probably should take Lennon back up the mountain, brother. Lookin’ at the motel, it looks like they were shootin’ to kill.” “Fuck, anyone hurt?” He doesn’t have to tell me, his face gives it away. “Ben’s been hit.”

Double fucking shit. Sitting on the couch in the clubhouse, Ben glares at me when I walk in with Lennon holding my hand like a lifeline, but that assholes eyes get even meaner when he sees her. He better pack that shit in. “You do this, bitch?” Ben barks at Lennon, trying to get off the couch. His shin is a bloody mess. Don’t look like he’s going anywhere in a hurry. “Should kill ya ‘n save Buck the fucking heartache.” Yeah, that’s not gonna happen. “You’re tryin’ to kill him.” “You’ll be going through me, dickweed.” Swear to fuck, if he pulls a gun anywhere near her, I’ll shoot him before he even has a chance to cock his

gun. Lennon leans closer to me and asks, “Why would I hurt you?” Good fucking question. Laughing cynically, Ben snorts. “Because you’re a fuckin’ rat.” “What?” I don’t want to, but I look at Lennon, gauging her reaction, but there is none. She just stares back at Ben with nothing but impassive eyes. If anything, she’s tough, because she’s not backing down from Ben. “Sit the fuck down,” Dan bellows, cutting though the tension. “Now! Called Tank ‘n his guys. Time for us to lock this shit down.”

Never in my goddamn life did I think I’d rather be driving my truck than my bike, but right now, plowing down the highway with someone actively shooting at us, I wish like fuck I had a cage for at least a little more damn protection. Dan sent me back up the mountain for more firepower. Couldn’t leave Lennon there, worried like shit that Ben might try to off her when I wasn’t looking. So, I’m forced to take her back with me. “Someone shoots, you keep your head down.” I shout over my shoulder. She’s hanging on to me a little tighter than usual.

“Yeah, okay,” she agrees easily. Burying her face in my back, I feel her relax into me. I wish like fuck that she wasn’t thrown into this with me, but I try like hell to feel bad for putting her in harms way, but I can’t. No, I don’t want anything to happen to her. I’m too damn selfish to wish I hadn’t met her. For the first time in a long goddamn time, I’m happy, and it feels fucking good. Pulling up in front of the house, I kill the engine and hop off with Lennon in tow. Hand in mine, I drag her behind me. Can’t stand out here like sitting ducks. Walking across the driveway takes forever. Glancing around, I look for something or someone out of place. “Buck.”

“Quiet, darlin’.” Throwing the front door open, I pull us inside, shut and lock that shit up tight. Standing in the middle of the living room, Lennon looks stunned, looking directly at me, but through me at the same time. “Lennon.” “Someone could have shot you.” I’m well aware. I don’t need a playback. “I know, babe.” “Holy shit.” Grabbing her face in my hands, I pull her head up, eyes level with mine. “Babe, I need you to listen to me.” “Okay.” “In the hall closet, grab the bag on

the floor,” I tell her, going for the bedroom door. Grabbing shit from under the bed, I start pulling out bags, tossing that shit out of my way. I know my shotgun is somewhere under here. Lennon’s little hatbox is next. Tossing it out of my way, it lands with a hard thud, and I do something I wish I never did. Looking at it, I see bills all over the floor. A fuck ton of money is scattered everywhere, and my heart fucking drops. I should fucking stop, but I don’t. I should be focused on the shooter, should be worried about getting more firepower and back down the mountain, but I can’t see past the bills. I dig through her bag and box,

looking for God knows what, but the more I dig, the more I wish I hadn’t. Everything I find makes me think I’ve been had, played. Lennon’s fucking hustled me.

Lennon The bedroom floor is littered with bills. Tens, twenties, hundreds. All my secrets are all over the floor, around Buck’s boots, finally out in the open. The sinking of my heart is palpable. It’s suffocating, making it hard to find air. Hitting the bricks, taking off running is the only thing I can think to do, but my legs won’t move. Glancing around Buck’s body, I see it all. All of my stuff; clothes, the little bag of pictures I have, make-up, shoes, and in a small pile on the bed are all my plastic personalities. My smiling face is on each new identity with different names, birth dates, and a different addresses.

I’ve always wondered what it would be like when someone found out. I wondered if I’d care, or how it would feel, and now I know. It feels fucking horrible. Not because I’ve lied, but because Buck, as untrusting as he is, was starting to trust me. I managed to ruin it all with one small box of secrets. “What is all this shit?” He demands. My words won’t come, their stuck in my throat. “My life,” I manage to utter into the hollow silence. It’s a life I’m oddly proud of on most days, yet in this moment, I’m overwhelmingly embarrassed of. “What is it?” He bellows, swiping a hand around the room. Buck’s looking at me like I’m a stranger; his eyes are

suspicious and haunted. I don’t understand what he’s getting at. What more does he want me to say? My life is what it is. Seep down to the roots, to the bones of it, and there’s my life. “My life,” I repeat slowly. There’s no better explanation. My secrets aren’t pretty or glamorous, but they’re mine, and they’re part of what little I do have. Grabbing a hand full of ID’s, Buck’s face falls as he quickly thumbs through them, reading out loud, each name, “Sarah, Megan, Christy, Lisa.” His voice grows increasingly irritated with each name he reads. Tossing them down on the bed, he steps closer to me and narrows his eyes. “Who are these women, and why the fuck is your face on

their ID’s?” “Buck?” I say carefully. Why is he not understanding me? “Tell me!” What do I say? That it all started at ten with stolen library books? I’d check them out and we’d move before I could return them, so I kept them. Then my mom would make me sell them to used bookstores for a little extra cash. It was money for her habit. “Lennon!” He screams, slamming his hands down on the dresser next to the bed. With a little jump, I answer him. “Okay.” I tell him everything, from the beginning, to this very moment.

I was twelve when she taught me that standing on the shoulder of a freeway ramp with a sign and a cute face could get us money, even more money for her habit. At sixteen, my mom taught me how to hustle harder. With a fake ID, I could get into bars and casinos. With it, I was able to hustle people out of money over pool, darts, cards, and craps. At first it worked, but after a while, it wasn’t enough money for her anymore, so we upped the game. Turned eighteen and learned men were the easiest and most profitable targets. It was dates and their cash. It was smiles and pawnable jewelry. It was time spent and my rent paid.

Stealing their wallets when it was over, or asking for money in favor of my time kept her habit fed until it wasn’t enough anymore. Twenty-one is when she pushed me to the brink. Banks. I’d get a job at some small local bank. Cash would come up missing, and so would I. We’d run, hit the road, and never look back. My mother is greedy, and in a way, I am too. I’m greedy with the need to keep her habit fed and her out of my life, so I do what I have to do to keep her alive, and me as far away from her as possible. It’s been two years since I’ve stepped away from that life, and yet I carry around my secrets like a shield,

just in case I need to fall back on them. “You’ve been lying to me. That shit make you feel good?” Buck booms, his face heartbreakingly angry while he watches and waits for an explanation. Rubbing at his beard, he paces. I’m not fucking happy with the life I’ve led, but I do what I have to with no remorse. I’ve never killed anyone, and I’ve never lied. I might not have confessed outright, but I’ve never, not once lied. “I never lied to you.” “There’s, like, two hundred grand here, and fake fucking ID’s.” He kicks the money around. “What am I supposed to think?” Watching him kick my life’s savings hurts.

“You’re supposed to listen to me and consider it before you make a judgment.” Letting out a loud humorless laugh, he shakes his head. Wincing, I kneel down and start picking up my money. Picking up each bill, I start stacking them in my hand. “I’ve worked hard for this,” I tell him, although I can sense he doesn’t care, and I’ve worked damn hard for it, but Buck just continues to laugh at me, not believing a damn thing I say. “Yeah, I’m sure you have,” he says with disgust tinting his words. He assumes I’ve earned it on my back, and he couldn’t be more wrong about that. “I’ve risked and ruined my life for this two hundred grand,” I spit at him.

This money wasn’t easily acquired. I’ve saved and I’ve hustled for it for so many damn years. Buck is no angel himself. I may not know details or particulars, but I’m sure there is a body count somewhere out here in these woods. Drugs, stolen goods, laundered money. There is no room between him and I for judgment. “Don’t judge what you don’t know shit about.” His eyes widen a fraction, but he crosses his arms defiantly. I know he’s not truly interested. Buck has already made his mind up about me in the four seconds he’s seen my secrets. Two months of time spent together has gone down the shitter with his judgment.

“Enlighten me then.” “All of this,” I grit out bitterly. If he wants to be enlightened, I will happily comply. I’ll let it all hang out. “This money is for my mother and my future. I was born at a fucking clubhouse, which was the start of my life that wouldn’t amount to much.” One just like his, with guys just like him. Hell, I suspect my father was someone just like Buck, a biker. I might have been born with shitty circumstances, but I’ve always been determined to make the best of what I have and know. “I have no real birth certificate, no real identity. What the hell am I supposed to do with that? My mother always wandered from place to place.”

So I had no damn time to settle and learn anything. “I had no home. With no stability and an unstable, useless mother, I learned to do whatever I had to do to live. I’d lie, cheat, or steal to eat. If I didn’t want a dead mother, the only person I had in the world, I did what I needed to do to keep her alive. She had an expensive habit and I had the skills. Her and I, we did what was needed.” Swallowing rough, Buck starts scrubbing at his face and pacing, walking back and forth in front of the bed again. I watch him wear a path into the old wood floors before he stops and looks at me with suspicion still in his eyes. “Who are you? Out of all those

fucking ID’s, which one are you?” “Lennon.” I never lied to Buck. I omitted and skated, but I’ve never openly lied to him. I care about him too fucking much to lie to him. He helped me when he didn’t have to. I wouldn’t do that to him. Watching me, something seems to dawn on him. Buck’s face changes from hurt to furious. Bracing myself, I wait for it, even if I don’t know what it will be. “You’re in on it, aren’t you?” That certainly wasn’t what I was expecting him to accuse me of. “In on what?” I whisper, hugging my knees. Suddenly, I’m really cold. “Fuck! I can’t believe I let your ass in.” Shaking his head, he grabs for my

arm. “And after all the shit I told you.” He rants, jerking me off the floor and onto my feet. He drags me towards the door, giving me a look of pure hatred, pure loathing. “What?” I squeal when his fingers dig in between the muscles of my arm as he pulls me after him. “Let’s go. Gotta figure out what the fuck to do with you.”

16 - Hustled Buck Leaning against the door to room ten at the motel, I try like hell to make sense of everything. I’m so goddamn confused and torn. Through the door, I can hear Lennon and her tears, and they fucking gut me. Tears from those bright and happy eyes crush me. I hate that I hurt her, but I hate even more that I let her hurt me. I’m tough, but I can only take so much shit. I couldn’t sit there in the room we’ve been sharing and watch her pick up each bill, counting it, like I’d skimmed some off the top. She counted it without a goddamn ounce of remorse or

guilt on her face. She apologized for not being more forthcoming with me, but at that moment, her words didn’t mean shit to me. I moved her into my place, spilled my fucking guts, and she repays me with lies and secrets? Not fucking cool. I listened to her story. She told it with zero emotion. I want so goddamn bad to believe her, but I’m not sure that shit’s possible for me anymore. Everything Ben accused her of makes perfect sense, but everything she said makes sense too. Who do I trust? My brother, the man who’s had my back in every possible situation, or some woman I just met. Fuck, Dan wouldn’t have just brought her here if he didn’t trust her.

Then again, Lennon seems like a topnotch con artist. Christ, my head is spinning. “Brother, we’ll get this shit figured out,” Rock says, slapping my shoulder. “I don’t think Lennon would be in on all this other shit.” I didn’t think so either, but she’s got a fat wad of unaccounted for cash, and a pile fake ID’s up the goddamn ass. I’ve seen her hustle with my own two eyes; cards with the guys, darts with Rock, and she was all too happy to bet money on me at the party. But is she really here to hustle me? “Fuck, I hope so.” Because I like her. I really fucking like her, and I’d hate to have to bury her.

“What’s the verdict?” Rock asks, Dan leaning back in his chair. I aired my grievances, let all that shit hang out, and I’m just as fucking torn as I was before. “I’ve got nothin’.” Dan shakes his head. He was in that room with Lennon for an hour, pressing her for information, and he doesn’t know any more than I do. “Said she doesn’t know the Raiders.” “Fuck. I just don’t know if believe that shit,” I yell, letting my emotions get the best of me. This is why I didn’t want Lennon in my life in the first place. Keep putting myself out there, and I keep getting shit on. “Whoa, whoa, hold up,” Dan says,

pointing me back into my chair. “Don’t go sayin’ shit you’ll regret. You’ve been through some shit. No one would blame you if you didn’t believe her, but this shit stinks of the Raiders. You think that one woman killed a brother, stole some money from us, and shot up the motel? The one she was sleepin’ in?” Fuck, I don’t know. “Don’t think she executed it, but she might be their eyes and ears.” I finally admit what I’m sure everyone is thinking. “Worry her later, brother, we got heads to knock.” Nodding once, Dan stands up, the chair smacking into the wall. “Only one way to find out who the hell is in on this shit,” he concedes

ominously. “We lock it down and we start war.”

“String him up,” Dan instructs, whipping his hands on his jeans. “Tight,” he adds before disappearing through a side door. Don’t have a single fucking clue how Dan, Rock, and Tyler got a hold of a Raider, but I’m not gonna question it. Bodies are fucking heavy, heavier than you’d expect, especially when they’re knocked the fuck out. Out cold, a member of the Road Raiders lies on the old wood floor of a little shack out back. Poncho is working a rope around the fucktards tied hands, looping the rope and making a knot. Poncho is

grunting and muttering to himself. The fucking Boy Scout takes five fucking minutes before he’s throwing the other end over a beam and hoisting the asshole up. “’Bout goddamn time, man,” Tyler gripes. “Fuck you. Excellence takes time, shithead,” Poncho grumbles, giving the guy a nudge, watching him swing from the rafters, inspecting his handy work. “He’s up there, ain’t he? So shut the fuck up.” Walking the length of the room, I stare at the man hanging by his hands from the ceiling. Wearing an old beer Tshirt, pants one size too small for his fat gut, and his disgusting cut, I can’t wait to

play piñata with him. Dan comes back into the room, carrying an old crate full of rusty shit; saw, hammer, wrench. “Let’s get this shit handled. Got real business to tend to.”

Gotta admit, this dude is fucking tough. Slapped him around a bit and got nothing. Upped the game with the hacksaw Dan handed me, hoping like fuck it would speed up the process. “You send her here?” I’m losing my goddamn patience. “Fuck you,” he sneers at me, jerking on his bindings. He can jerk and twitch around all he wants to, but there

is no way in hell he’s getting out of it. Poncho might be slow as shit, but he’s good with a rope. “I’m going to fuck you with this goddamn saw, right down your throat if you don’t tell me about the girl.” I hate that Lennon is even a part of this, let alone, being deep in it. I’m trying not to think of what I’ll have to do if she really is working with them. No amount of money or convincing will keep my brothers from wanting her head. Jess is a bitch, but if Lennon is working with the enemy, there’s nothing I can do to save her. “You got a bitch on payroll?” I demand an answer, planting a fist in his soft gut. Letting out a pained grunt, he

moans, “Fuck you.” “Tell me!” Shaking his head, the guy fucking sighs at me, like I’m bothering him or something. “You think we’d employ some cunt to follow you pussy ass motherfuckers around?” He laughs, coughing up blood. “No bitch works for the Raiders.” I have a feeling I’m not gonna get shit out of this asshole about Lennon. I have no doubt Rock and Poncho will extract some shit about the MC. “Poncho, get as much as you can from him. He doesn’t walk outta here breathing, and take his cut.” He took our brothers cut, we’re owed his. Fair is fucking fair.

“Buried or burned?” Rock asks. “Whatever is gonna be slower.” Instincts tell me that maybe I should have heard Lennon out. Maybe I should have had a little more faith in Lennon. Walking out into the cold cool air, I lean up against the shed. Pulling out a smoke, I take a drag. Feeling like shit, I start questioning everything. “You get what you need, brother?” Dan asks, walking up next to me. “Don’t know,” I answer honestly. I don’t know a damn thing. “Want a little wisdom?” “Why the fuck not.” “Don’t think that girl knows a damn thing. Wouldn’t have brought her around if I did. Lennon might have something to

hide, but it ain’t this. This shit is MC, brother. You’re gonna have to learn to trust her if you plan on keepin’ her around.” I might have already ruined any chance of Lennon sticking around. If she wasn’t going to run a few days ago, I’m sure she is now. Why the fuck would she stick around with me now, after all this? “Don’t know if we’ll be seeing her again.” The idea of losing Lennon to the world scares me. She’ll run and she’ll be gone, and there won’t be a thing I can do about it. Any other woman, I might be able to convince, but not Lennon. She’s only gonna stay if she wants to, and I hope like hell she thinks I’m worth staying for.

“Tell her you’re sorry and do it with a fuckin’ smile. Fix your shit, brother,” Dan advises. Walking by, he clasps my shoulder and adds, “Trust her.” So much easier said than done. “I’ll fucking try.”

Lennon My feet land on dirt and I wobble, unsteadily. Looking right and left, I scan the wooded area behind the motel, but I don’t see anyone. It’s dark now, and I’m guessing it’s about eight in the evening. The guys have been gone for a while, and part of me doesn’t think they’ll be back for a few more hours. I have a window of time to make my run. Rolling my shoulders, I wince at the sting in my left one. Crawling through a tiny ass window was not my first choice of exits, but I didn’t have a choice. Locked in a room with little options, I made due with what I had. I feel like I’ve aged thirty years from

squeezing and shimmying through that small as hell bathroom window. Spent two hours locked in that room, trying to think of a way to convince Buck I wasn’t here for anything other than a place to crash at first, but stayed because I liked him too damn much to leave. Buck doesn’t trust me, and I don’t blame him, but I’m about to do something that’ll either crush any chance I have to regain that trust, or spark some life back into what we had. I can’t just sit and wait. Like I said, I’ll do whatever I have to do.

By some miracle, I made it back up to Buck’s place without anyone hearing Buck’s truck. A boy I once knew taught me how to hotwire, and I’m thanking my lucky stars I remembered that pointless piece of information. Otherwise, I’d be walking down the highway. Standing in the doorway to Buck’s bedroom, I look at my shit all over his floor, scattered in a messy pile. He drug me out of his house before I had the chance to stick it all back into my bags where it belonged. It’s a sad sight, the very little I own, littering the floor. A handful of clothing, some pictures, a tiny little box of knickknacks, a little bag of beauty stuff, and my cash is all I own. My life reduced to

a bag and a box. Sighing, I get to work packing my bag. Sitting on the floor, I get to stuffing. I guess, deep down, I had hoped that the last time I packed my bag would be the last. I wanted to stay here with Buck and the Disciples, but I wasn’t dumb enough to count on it. Hell, it was a pipe dream, really. But a girl can dream, right? It’s sad to leave here. I found a comfort here I haven’t found in many other places, and I’d hoped to hold onto it for a little while longer, but my time here is up, for now, anyways. My bags at my feet, I lean against the kitchen counter, staring blankly at a small notepad in front of me. I tried with words to explain things, but Buck wasn’t

interested. Actions might just be my only hope. Words aren’t my strong suit. I either say too much or not nearly enough, but I think in this situation, less is more. Scribbling out a sad, two-line note, I pray it’s enough. I leave the pad of paper on the counter with a few other things that I hope explain everything before I grab my bag to go.

Buck, I hope this helps rebuild your trust in me. I’m sorry for breaking it to begin with.

Lennon. Turning back to the rest of the house, I look at it for the last time with a heavy heart. This house is the first place I’ve felt safe, the first place I felt like I was home. I don’t want to leave, but I have to. The choice has already been made for me. Walking through the front door, Bill is sitting stoically on the porch, waiting on me. I stop long enough to give him one more grateful pat on the head. “Be safe, buddy.” Chucking my bags inside the truck, I hop in and fire it up. Without a look back, I take off towards an uncertain future.

Driving down the dark empty highway, I do something I haven’t done in years. I let the tears fall down my cheeks in endless waves. Consumed by the overwhelming grief and sheer shittiness of the situation, I let them flow freely. My heart has gone rogue. It’s still up there on the mountain, with Buck. My guilty conscience was too much for my poor heart to handle. Sitting in the truck alone, I think of the first time I crawled on the back of Buck’s bike. I remember how optimistic I felt, how free and wild I was with my arms around him. This time, it’s so much different.

I hadn’t thought Buck and I would work, but I had hoped. I’m a dreamer, always have been. Bigger and better things were always on the horizon, and I think I might have just walked away from that something bigger and better. There was something there in Buck that I feel in myself. From the moment I met him, I knew he was someone I wanted in my life. I guess in a way, I thought we were kindred spirits, two people with very different, yet very similar situations, brought together by sheer luck. I wasn’t looking for a meal ticket, a husband, or boyfriend. I was looking for a friend, a connection with someone who got me. Buck got me.

But how wrong I was. Buck judged me and I couldn’t blame him for it. My life isn’t easy to swallow, and for someone like him, it might just be impossible to believe in and trust. I don’t blame him. I blame terrible timing and shit luck. But it is what it is. I’ll make the best of it and I’ll move on. I’ll hope and I’ll pray, and maybe someday, down the road, things will be different with Buck.

The drive takes longer this time, maybe because I’m not enjoying it as much as the first time. It takes hours, more than seven, but I make it in one piece. My eyes are puffy

and my throat is dry, but I’m alive. Riverpoint, a tiny town in Washington, is a place I haven’t been to in a while. Hadn’t planned on returning here either, but I know it’s the only choice I have now. I’ve run out of places to run. Pulling into the only car lot in town, I park between two decrepit vehicles. Rusted and falling apart, I doubt they’ve moved from their spots in years. The place looks the same, but I guess it has only been a few years since I’ve been here. Killing the engine, I sit in the driver’s seat a minute, watching rain drops land on the windshield. Digging through my bag, I push all

my emotions aside. Finding a piece of paper, I tear it in half. Writing notes on each, I leave one on my bags, and I stuff the other in my pocket. Grabbing my purse, I hop out, lock the door, and walk in, leaving all my belongings in the front seat with the note. Walking up to the pot-bellied man at the counter, I sit the keys, three grand, and directions on the counter in front of him. “I need this truck delivered to this address as soon as possible.” Looking at the cash, and then the directions, he nods stiffly. Money talks. “Yeah, guess so,” he agrees. “I need it there as soon as possible,” I stress, glancing back out the

glass door at Buck’s old truck. The man only grunts in response, grabbing the stuff from the counter and stuffing it in a drawer. “Thanks.” “Yeah.” Pushing through the glass doors, I walk out into the rain. I leave the truck and the shop with only my purse and the clothes on my back. My heart beats loudly in my ears and my stomach barrel rolls with each step I take. I hate that shit feels like death row. I remind myself that this is a new beginning. This is what Buck and I need. Walking down First Street, I walk past shops, a bar, a few restaurants, barber, and a shoe store, and I don’t look

at any of it, afraid that if I do, I’ll lose my nerve. Stopping in front of the small post office, I pull out an envelope from my purse, and without a second thought, I shove it into the mailbox out front, hoping it’ll be the last time. I’m determined to cut my mother out. She’s toxic, and no good comes from the sick relationship we have. If she wants to kill herself, fine, but I’m not going to help anymore. Taking a deep breath, I compose myself. This is for the best. This is what has to be done. I remind myself of the reason a few times before I continue on. Turning around, I walk back in the opposite direction, towards my last resort, and hope like hell this works.

17 - No Good-byes Buck Knew something was off the second I walked away from that shed. Shit just didn’t feel right. I could feel it in my bones. It felt like a death, leaving emptiness in its wake. I know I’ve lost Lennon. I’ve lost enough to know what that hollow, lost feeling is. Lennon’s gone. Pushing open the door to the motel room, I find it empty, just like I knew I would. Staring into the empty room, I count. I count, hoping to keep the rage inside―eight ... nine ... ten―anything to keep myself from breaking shit, like walls and faces.

Lennon’s gone and my untrusting, faithlessness ran her off. It’s my fault, and I can’t do a goddamn thing to fix it now. “She’s gone?” Rock asks, walking up behind me. Standing next to me in the doorway, looks in to the empty room. “Fuck, man.” “Know where she would’ve gone?” Lennon could be anywhere. Halfway across the country? “No.” And don’t have a single fucking clue where she’d go. “Shit,” he mutters, laying a friendly hand on my shoulder. “I pushed her and she ran.” Pulling the door closed, I walk back across the lot to the front of the bar

where I left my truck, where I know it won’t be. And just like the room, the lot is empty of Lennon. I’m not mad. I’m fucking numb.

“I fuckin’ want her gone.” No one says anything. Every single fucking eye in the room watches me. Not sure how else to get the goddamn point across. “Want her gone like two fucking years ago.” I put up with Jess for Rock. I put up with Jess for those girls. I put up with Jess because she’s a lost fucking soul, but I’m done. Done getting shit on. Done living under her watchful eye. I was being nice, but now I’m done. In a roundabout way, she drove

Lennon away. Yeah, I didn’t help, and I sure as shit take responsibility for my actions, but that bitch did not help the situation. I finally found something good, and I was too goddamn screwed up to see it when it was right in front of my face. “You sure?” Dan asks, leaning casually into his chair. I have a feeling he’s been waiting for this. “Fuck yeah, I’m sure.” “Rock?” Him and I have been friends a long time, and I’d hope he’d have my back on this shit. Jess and him aren’t close―same dad, different mom―close. “I’m good with it,” Rock shrugs. “She’ll be with her mom. Kids’ll be

straight.” Reclining in my seat, I’m finally able to breathe, just barely, for the first time in a long damn time. “Good. Thank fuck.”

Lennon’s been gone two weeks and it hasn’t gotten easier. If anything, this shit has gotten harder. I don’t have a clue as to where she could be. Never gave a thought about how big this world was until I lost someone in it, but now it seems fucking endless. Two days after Lennon left, I was inside the house when I heard tires on gravel, and Bill carrying on. Walked onto the porch to find my truck on the

back of a tow truck. I felt disappointment seeing it. I’d hoped she’d show back up in that truck. That fucking thought went right out the damn window. The pot-bellied asshole driving the tow, tossed me a set of keys before unloading the truck. I pressed him for information as he unhooked my truck, but the motherfucker said he didn’t know a damn thing, other than a dark-haired woman asked him to deliver it here. I thanked him before he drove off. I left my truck in the driveway while I took off to drink my mood away. Like a bitch, I just can’t seem to keep that shit in check. Sometimes I wish like fuck I never met the broad, and other times I

miss her so much. It’s eating me up not knowing where she is and how she’s doing. Hate that I’m left hanging without any damn answers. A couple of days after my truck showed up, I got in it, only to find her shit inside with a note that said, “Please take care of my stuff.” It sat there untouched for a week until it snowed. Had no choice but to bring it in. Shoved it in a closet, hoping to forget about it, but I couldn’t. I can’t forget her, even if I should. I think about Lennon constantly, and I think I’ve become even more numb to it. I can’t shake her, no matter how hard I try. “So why’d ya think she was here?”

Rock asks, pulling me back. Sitting on my porch, he’s staring at nothing with me. Rock, the only motherfucker I talk about this shit with. Taking a hardy drink of my beer I mull his question over for a second. Hadn’t figured she was here for much. Never in my wildest fucking dreams did I think she was here to play me, to play us. “Figured she was running from a bad relationship, or she failed fucking beauty school.” Career criminal was not high up on my list. Looking at Lennon, I never would have pegged her for what she is, a goddamn hustler. Sitting out here with Rock, I’m

waiting to hear back from Tags. Asked him for a favor and he said he’d deliver. I swear that asshole can find anyone. Some special skill he picked up in the service. “You think Tags can find her?” “I fucking hope so.” Because as much as I want to turn her ass red for skipping out on me, I miss her and I want some goddamn answers. She owes me that much.

I do a lot of things I don’t want to do. I run from border to border for Dan constantly. I have my brothers back, even when I think they’re stupid as shit sometimes. I let a broad room with me

when I wasn’t interested. And I do a lot of things that weigh heavily on my conscience. Destroyed lives and buried bodies stay on my mind, but nothing’s worse than what I’m doing now. I don’t want to be here, I need to be here. Sitting on a wooden bench in a little hick town courthouse, I watch Lennon take her hits and there’s not a fucking thing I can do about it. With every word, I feel it. I can’t help her, even if it is all I want to do. I’m fucking useless in this situation. Standing in front of the judge, she takes it all in stride. Never in my damn life did I think I’d be here with her. Drove up here the second the paperwork landed in my hands. Called

in a favor with Tank and Tags, and they found her for me. I hit the road and drove through the night to get here. Fuck, the least I could do was be here for her. A few hundred miles away from home, I find her wearing orange and a smile. It looks so wrong, but still, she looks fucking beautiful. Sitting here, not more than fifty feet from her, I feel guilty as fuck. My lack of trust in her put us here, and I don’t have anyone to blame but myself. Lennon wasn’t there in my life, or my club, for anything other than a place to stay, exactly like she said. I let my trust, or lack thereof, chase her off. I knew she had secrets, but I would’ve never guessed this. Even when

she told me, I didn’t believe it. Should’ve fucking trusted her. “Miss Page,” the judge says, and I hold my breath, waiting for the blow. “I’ve had the chance to review the recommendations from the State, and heard from both parties in this matter. After considering both arguments, I’ve settled on a sentence of 364 days in the county jail. You are to serve this starting immediately.” I’m up and out of my seat, ready to argue that shit when Rock stops me with a jerk of his head and a hand to my shoulder. “You go spoutin’ off at the mouth, and it’ll only make it worse on her.” Nothing in life is harder than

watching the woman you love get beat down by some cum stain in a robe, and there’s not a thing you can do to ease it for her. “I just can’t fucking sit here.” There’s a damn knot in the pit of my stomach. I’ve been where Lennon is. I’ve done it twice, and I swear it’s harder to watch than it is to live. Those words might as well be a fucking life sentence to me. That motherfucker is taking her away from me, and that shit doesn’t sit well with me. I lost her once already, and I don’t want a repeat. The Sheriff in the corner, lounging against the wall like it’s his day off, pushes away from the wall and walks

slowly towards Lennon with an all too happy smile on his face. He’s gonna enjoy this. Lock up the pretty little thing. “Motherfu―” Rock snatches my shoulder up and stops me before I make it to the end of the isle. I’m ready to rip everyone apart. “Brother, this is the way it has to be,” Rock says. Words of wisdom. I know he’s right, but it doesn’t mean I don’t want to fight them. “I fucked up big time, man. I didn’t trust her and she didn’t do shit for me not to.” I should have given her the benefit of the doubt. Should have listened to her and heard her. “Buck, man, things will be cool. It’ll all work out.”

“How the fuck you know that?” With any luck, Lennon will get out and run for the hills. She’d be smart to stay away from me. Who the hell wants someone like me in their lives. “I just do,” he says and nods up towards the front of the courtroom. She’s cuffed behind her back and the Sheriff holds onto her. Her long black hair hangs down around her perfect face, and her big brown eyes are trained on me. The corners of her lush lips tip into a knowing smile. “Soon,” she mouths and smiles at me. I watch her as long as I can, until she disappears behind a door. Soon, but not fucking soon enough.

Epilogue Buck Resting back against my bike, I cross my arms and shift, uncomfortable as hell. I kick my feet out farther, widening my stance, hoping like hell to alleviate the ache. My back is fucking killing me from standing here for so damn long. There is absolutely nothing to look at out here expect for miles of chain-link fence, topped with barbed wire and dead grass. Out behind me, there’s a long, dusty ass highway and more nothing. I’ve been here since nine in the morning, and looking at my phone, I see

it’s getting close to four in the afternoon. If it were any other fucking reason, I would have left hours ago. The grind of metal on metal has me standing up and walking towards the gate. My heart beats down my chest. I can hear the loud clicks from the heavy locks and that shit makes me cringe and my stomach fall. It seems like time slows and the wait drags on. Feels like a damn lifetime before the gate in front of me slides open. I can’t stop moving. Walking down the path, I stop when I see her. It feels so goddamn good to see her. Lennon’s standing at the end of the path, wearing what she was wearing the last time I saw

her. She’s still so beautiful, so fucking perfect. I watch her scan the area, something desperate in her brown eyes. She looks almost frantic before her eyes land on me. A heartbreaking smile splits across her face the second our eyes connect. Dropping her shit at her feet, she takes off, running towards me. She gets to me soon enough. She leaps and wraps her arms and legs around me, hanging on to me for dear life. She almost knocks me over. The moment she’s on me, I get my hands on her. It feels so fucking good to feel her again. Feels like coming home. Lennon holds me tight, clinging to me, her face in my neck. People could

die, things could blow up, the world could fucking stop, and there isn’t a goddamn thing that’d make me let her go, not now that I’ve got her in my arms again. “You miss me?” I ask her, dying to hear her voice. Squeezing me tighter, she shakes her head slowly. “No,” she sniffles into my neck. Fucking lies. “Did you miss me?” She asks. Has to be the most stupid question I’ve ever been asked. Fuck yeah I missed her. Missed her every day, every second she’s been gone. “Not one fuckin’ bit.” Lennon says, her voice shaking. She fucking missed me.

“Take me home?” There’s nothing more I’d rather do. “Yeah, babe.”

There’s an ache again, but this time it isn’t painful. It’s not day ruining or time consuming. It’s a good fucking ache. My heart is so goddamn full and complete, that shit might burst. Wouldn’t admit it out loud, but I’m so fucking happy right now. Rode straight home. Once I had her on the back of my bike, I wasn’t letting her off until we were back up on the mountain. Couldn’t wait to get her here, where she belongs. I just didn’t have it in me to pull over, even if both of us

were exhausted and in need of some damn sleep. Couldn’t imagine having her sleep in some shithole motel in some asshole town, halfway between her hell and home. My only thought was getting her home and keeping her there with me, where she belongs. Standing by my bike, I watch Lennon stand in front of the house, her pretty face in awe. She’s hesitating. Her eyes are shifting quick as shit from house to property and back. They’re big, and so damn heartbreaking. She leapt off the bike as soon as we passed the old house. She knew. “You finished it,” she says, her voice quiet. There’s wetness in her gaze, and I know she’s happy. Looking up at

the house, I can’t help my own smile. If it weren’t for her, I would’ve never finished it. But I’m so fucking happy I did. Best time and money I ever spent. “For you.” Because of you. When Lennon left, she left one hundred grand on my kitchen counter. For weeks I thought about burning it. For a month it sat untouched in my freezer. But she left it for a reason, and I knew I had to finish it for her, for us. Lennon loved this piece of property as much as me, and I knew I had to do something to honor that. Started working on the house three months after she left. Spent practically every waking hour finishing it. Poured blood, sweat, and my fucking heart into

the house for her. Forgot how good it felt to build for a reason, a purpose. Last week I finished, just in time for Lennon to come home. “Go inside.” The outside is beautiful with its log façade and river rock, but the inside is where it’s at. Looking back at me, she smiles and holds out her hand, “Come with me.” “Yeah.” Walking up the steps, she holds my hand, keeping me close. Never thought I’d miss someone so much until I didn’t have them anymore. It was only a few months spent together, but it changed my life forever. Spent a lot of time before Lennon, constantly taking shit. Giving my parents

a hand with money, burying my little brother, dealing with Jess always shitting on me, and my brothers constant enjoyment in giving each other hell. With Lennon, I finally found a place to just be. Probably sound like a pussy, but fuck it feels good to just be with someone who accepts you, someone who doesn’t want something from you, other than just you. I’ve finally got her back and there’s no way in hell I’m letting her go. Pushing open the solid wood door, she starts kicking off her shoes. She lingers in the entryway, dancing on her bare feet, nervous to excited. The house isn’t huge. Hell, it’s not even big, but it’s enough for the two of us. Two bedrooms and two bathrooms, a living room, and a

kitchen. Figured Lennon doesn’t care so much about the inside, it’s the outside she loves. “These windows,” she whispers, walking over to the large floor to ceiling windows. Standing in front of them, she looks out onto the property. Overlooking the valley and river, they really are perfect. “They’re perfect.” “Look around, babe.” Lennon explores the house while I sit on the porch and soak it all in. In front of the fire, I nurse my beer and wait for her, wanted to give her a little time to enjoy it all. Twenty minutes later, she’s standing in the doorway, an ear to ear smile on her face, and it stops me short. That year

away from me did nothing to diminish her beauty. If anything, she looks more beautiful now than the day I met her. “Come here.” Walking over to me, she crawls onto me and folds her legs around my waist. She’s close, but not nearly close enough. Wrapping a hand around the back of her neck, I pull her as close to me as I can get her. I’ve been deprived of this for a whole goddamn year. It’s starting to get cold again. Fall is in the air, leaves are changing, and the air is crisp. Grabbing a blanket from the chair next to mine, I cover her up, letting the blanket fall over her back. In a few weeks, we’re likely to get our first snow up here, something Lennon missed last

year. No doubt she’ll fucking love and want to spend hours outside in it. “You like it?” She should. Down to the nails, I built it with her in mind. From the river rock shower, to natural wood coming from the surrounding property, and the picture windows in each room, letting the outside in, everything was done for her. “Love it,” Lennon breathes. Her wet tears soak the skin of my neck. “Thank you.” “Hope like hell those are happy tears, darlin’.” “They are. I just missed you.” “Missed the fuck outta you too.” “We’re good?” She asks, her voice soft. Lennon and me, we’ve got some

work ahead of us in this life, but I have no fucking doubt that we’ll make it fucking beautiful. “Yeah darlin’, we’re fucking perfect.”

The End.

Authors note: The war between the Hell’s Disciples MC and the Road Raiders MC that began in this book will continue in the next book in the series. Previous books in the series: The Ride Crash & Burn The Rage Also by Jaci J: Sick Bastard Twisted Bitch

Table of Contents Title Page The Run (Hell's Disciples MC, #4) Dedication Acknowledgements About the book Play List Prologue 1 - Roommates 2 - Crazy Eyes 3 - Outdoorsy 4 - Budweiser 5 - Hitchhikers and Hobos 6 - Tits and Ass and Lennon 7 - Bed Crasher 8 - Lover Boy 9 - Two Foot Rule

10 - The Universe 11 - Lies & Secrets 12 - Knives, Guns, and Friends 13 - Confessions 14 - Fishin’ In The Dark 15 - Shootin’ Blind 16 - Hustled 17 - No Good-byes Epilogue Authors note: