Holding On

Holding On

Lights of Peril Book
One

A.C. Bextor

Copyright © 2013 A.C. Bextor

All rights reserved.  Except for
use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in
whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or
other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography,
photocopying, and recording, or in any information storage or
retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of
the author.

This is a work of fiction.  Names,
characters, places and incidents are either the product of the
author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance
to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events
or locales is entirely coincidental.

Published in the United
States of America.
 

- First and foremost to my
husband and my daughter. You have to live at home with me every
day.  It goes without saying that I love you both, fiercely.
Your patience with me and all the deliveries of fountain pop and
snacks in addition to you having to tolerate my jolly rancher
addiction. You are forever picking up my scattered wrappers that
are found throughout the house, well this has been by far the most
appreciated forms of support that I could have ever asked for.
 You know me well, so you know I’m being
completely
serious here.

- My Mother.  As a child, I
remember all of your hobbies.  Painting, stupid macramé,
tedious needlepoint, etc. Most importantly though mom, I remember
watching you with your books while you were sitting on the living
room couch or at the kitchen table reading.  Even enveloped in
a story, you never hesitated to stop what you were reading when
your kids wanted to hang out and just talk to you, even if it was
about nothing. I should have taken the time so long ago to tell you
this, but I’m telling you now in this dedication, thank you for
never hiding and always sharing your love of arts via exposure,
whether that be music, poetry, hobbies, or expressing yourself in
writing.   

- My Best Friend, Harry.
Lifelong friends are such a rarity in this world and ‘best friend’
doesn’t come close to describing what you are to me.  You
always believed in me whatever I was doing, even when we were just
kids. This project was no different. Knowing you believed I had it
in me to finish this is what kept me going.  

- My brother, J.K.  Are
you surprised to find yourself here on this page, big brother?
 I’m not.  It is only because you scared the
hell out of me
last year
that this whole process even started.  I began to verify the
stories you would tell me about the MC’s I was familiar with here
in town. Oh and yes, most definitely without your approval, I was
getting a first-hand look into the lifestyle. I only did that
because I didn’t believe you and was of mindset to prove you wrong.
So, you could say it is because of your aggressive nature, that
this book was born. Thank you for being an out of control, alpha,
tyrannical brother, and of course for your love of your Harley
Davidson and tattoos.  

- My sister at heart, T.
 Although I kept you in the dark regarding this project, it
didn’t go without good reason. You were my ticket to sanity when
this would begin to pull me under. You were my own private piece of
normal that I clung to when the pressure was getting to me and I
wanted to throw my hands up in the air and quit. Pedicures really
do help clear the mind, thank you for making go with you to get
them. I will
always
love
your
face!

- My Crazy Angel. You are
solely responsible for making me put my thoughts down on paper and
start this book. Even after I started, then deleted, changed my
mind
again
and
restarted. So, if it fails or flies baby, it’s on you.  Thank
you for being my Thelma and making me look harder at myself and
realize that even if I fail at this endeavor, I wouldn’t have been
happy until I tried.  I value our friendship to no
end.

Side
Note
:

I’m an independent author
that has just completed my first amazing journey. That being said,
my journey does have flaws.  Please understand that there may
be some typos or words used in the wrong reference.  Although
I have tried to proofread until my eyes burned, I can’t guarantee
this book is perfect. Just know that I tried to make it the best it
could be for you.

Prologue
:

I've always been loved. My father who
is a retired Public Relations Manager of a hotel chain in Columbus,
OH just an hour from where we live, has always been strict. My
mother, the ever housewife and though often times emotionally
absent, has always shared her own form of love with me.

It's my half-brother Patrick whom I
have always been the closest. Patrick is ten years my senior. He
left mom and dad's house when I was seven.  Unfortunately we
do not share the same father.  His father was the renegade
type from a motorcycle outfit east of here that my mother thought
she could 'save'. He died during a gun raid at the hands of the
ATF.  It was always important to my mom to be saving somebody
else so she wouldn't have to look too hard at herself and see that
she's the one that really needed saving.  

My dad Warren, doesn't even speak of
Patrick.  I'm not allowed to talk of him, neither is my
mother.  Dad only sees Patrick as nothing more than a
bloodline to a life less than ours.  A life of crime, hate,
disease, and heartbreak.  Warren met my mom when Patrick was
eight.  Patrick had already started to rebel as one would
expect a teenager to rebel, he just started early.  Once he
even broke into a corner store for candy because Warren had
forbidden candy in his house, citing it caused cavities and that
was an expense he wasn't planning to garner on Patricks’ behalf.
Patricks’ behaviors advanced rapidly as Warren withheld the love
that Patrick needed to become a "productive member of our society"
as Warren had once put it.

Although Patrick and I only spent
seven years under the same roof, this did not deter us from
sheltering a bond that holds strong to this day.  Being that
he was forbidden to be in Warren’s house or his presence, he would
make time to find me at the park, school, or piano lessons.
 He would wait for me to see him and then once I communicated
silently that the coast was all clear of Warren, we would enjoy a
visit catching up.  

Leaving at such a young
age, feeling void of love and poor of riches, left Patrick without
all he needed to grow up and reach his true poetic potential. He
sought acceptance in the only place he felt safe, the local 'Lights
of Perils’ Motorcycle Club Chapter here in town.  Back then,
Doc was President and known throughout our small town as a
womanizer and was considered as a father to all those without that
paternalistic influence.  He loved Patrick from the beginning
and invited him to join as a prospect once Patrick turned the age
of 18. Doc was a good man who unfortunately met his demise one year
ago at the hands of Switch, the President of a rival Club in the
same town, Angels in Hell. Switch however is not known for his
fatherly instincts but rather his trafficking of women, drug sales,
and now tally murder.

My brother’s Club name is
Hem, due to his talent with words. Hem is soft hearted and a poet
at heart but dare anyone to make light of this.  Although a
poet, Hem still stands well over 6ft and is built like a block
wall.  He has always had a large frame but as he got older, he
just kept growing up and growing out. Together with his poetic
heart and kind demeanor, it all makes him Hem.

Sadey Lyons is my best
friend and has been in love with Hem since we were five years old.
 Her parents still live across the street from mine in our old
neighborhood.  She and I have shared a living space since we
graduated from college 9 months ago. She was almost as heartbroken
as I was when we were seven and Hem left us in attempts to of
finding a home where acceptance was offered to him. When we were
14, she asked me what I thought about what her marrying Hem would
be like.  I laughed and it had hurt her feelings but by the
time Hem was 24 to our 14 he was, well... quite experienced.
 I couldn't and did not
want
to imagine my brother and Sadey together like
that.  He loved her too though, I think sometimes now I can
see him looking at her like she's a woman, no longer the child she
once was.  To him, however, I'm eternally only going to be 10
years old and in dire need of his protection, whether I ask for it
or not.

Chapter
One
:

"An intelligent man is sometimes forced to be
drunk to spend time with his fools."

--Ernest Hemingway

"Dammit Mace, he's drinking again."
 Greyson Meyer, who is my soon to be husband, says to me as we
are pulling into the Peril Clubhouse.  He sees before I do
that Hem is dancing with Sadey, as she is in a fit of giggles
trying to keep up.  Seems as though Hem is blessed with moves
and right now they are all on Sadey.  Oye!  

Greyson and Hem are polar opposite.
 Greyson is a lead accountant at a firm located out of Dallas
but works at the local office here in Ohio. He is tall and lean
with a strong jaw and looks delicious in his daily suits.
 Rarely do you see him with a single hair out of place or a
stain marring his perfectly pressed apparel.  He honestly
mirrors my dad Warren, who also happens to be his personal hero.
 I guess the assumption of wanting someone similar to our
father holds true here.  He and dad are close, meaning that he
also shares the same disdain for Hem's lifestyle as dad but Greyson
tolerates Hem and his group for me.  He knows we all come as a
package deal.  It’s me, Sadey, and about 60 of the rowdiest,
obnoxious, big hearted fools spread throughout this
state.

"I know, but look at them Greyson.
 They look happy together." I say while sighing in
envy.

"Is that what happiness looks like,
Mace? Cause to me they just look drunk and clumsy."

Giving him my eye roll I get out of
the car and start towards the entrance of the compound.
 Greyson doesn't drink, sometimes I wish he would.  I
would love to see Greyson unblocked.  It probably wouldn't
suit him though.  He has to be in control and keep up
appearances at all times.

"There she is, my beautiful sister!
 Come here and give your brother a hug!"  Oh lord, he
does sound a tad under the influence.

Quickly looking back at Greyson for
encouragement I turn and give a forged smile to Hem and ask, "What
are we celebrating tonight, big brother?"  

Shame, my brothers Vice President and
best friend since he was about eleven and Hem was nine is standing
beside Hem and Sadey grinning like a schoolboy.  His dimples
do not represent his ability to tackle and eliminate anything he
deems an immediate threat.  He is smiling though, so something
is up.  Shame doesn't smile often. He may have escaped his
past, but he still wears the scars of pain with his sadness and
mistrust always close to the surface.

"Well, my sweet little sister, we are
celebrating because we have all voted and it has been concluded
that you, Mace Cash, are now the official Motorcycle Princess of
the Lights of Peril MC!"  I stand in front of my brother, as
if he has gone mad and grown three heads.  The Princess of the
MC, has he lost his ever loving mind?  

"HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?" Alright,
that seems to come out just a bit more severe than I had played in
my head.

“
Hem, is
this a joke?  Cause it’s not funny!  I am not a MC
Princess!  You are supposed to find a woman and make HER the
princess of
this.
” I gesture my hands about my
face reaching for a dramatic moment and only manage to make Shame
chuckle even more.  

Turning my exasperation to
Shame, “Is this funny to you?  My brother looks to have lost
his marbles in a pint of vodka and you are laughing?  I don’t
see the joke here, Shame.”  

Shame and I have had an interesting
and confusing relationship throughout the years.  His road
name was given to him by Doc, who also paternally adopted Shame at
the age of 17 and offered him a prospect position once he turned
18.