Merciless Ride (14 page)

Having Shooter here agitates me a little bit. I have never cared what anyone thought before, but there is something about him that makes me not want him to see this broken down side of me. No hiding it now, though; he is here and apparently not in a hurry to leave.
 

“See for yourself.” I wave my hands. “I’m here.”
 

“How ya holdin’ up, Tessie? Be straight with me.”
 

“I’m holdin’ up, Shooter. There’s nothing more I can say. I’m adjusting,” I answer, not really sure where he is going with this.
 

“Or not. You sleepin’ okay?”
 

“Yeah.”
 

He reaches his hand up to my face, his thumb gently coming down to trace the bags under my left eye. I flinch involuntarily at the contact before closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. It’s just Shooter.
 

He immediately withdraws, but watches me closely.
 

“Tessie, you don’t look like you’re sleepin, baby.”
 

“I’m doin’ the best I can.”
 

“Your mom, she’s worried. I know you’re doin’ the best you can, but it’s more than you. Tell me, Tessie, what can I do to help you?” Shooter asks with such a pull in his tone I can’t deny that he is hurting for me.
 

“Time heals all wounds, or so they say,” I answer kindly.
 

“Baby, this is killing me. It’s killin’ all of us to know we can’t help you. Stay with me.”
 

“What?” I ask, not hiding my shock at his request.
 

“Stay at my place. I can help with your mom and Axel. You won’t have to feel alone. I know you’re aware we got men watchin’ this place, but your mom called me. She thinks you might do better out of here. I know you don’t want to leave her or Axel, but my place is plenty big. Stay with me. All of you, come stay with me.”
 

“Shooter, have you thought this through?” I question, knowing I don’t need to think a damn thing through. Shooter may have the best intentions in the world to help me; however, he doesn’t know my story. If he did, he wouldn’t be opening his home to me, nor would any of his brothers.
 

“To be honest, no, Tessie, I haven’t. What I do know is you are going through the motions, but you aren’t healing. I’ll do whatever it takes to help you heal, baby.”
 

“Stayin’ at your place won’t heal me. Thanks for your kindness, but I just need some time.” At my refusal, I gesture for us to make our way back to the door.
 

“You want me to leave?” Shooter asks, not one to beat around the bush.
 

“Yeah, I think you should go. Nothin’ personal, Shooter, but you can’t heal me… no one can.” My last few words come out in a whisper as I drop my head in defeat.
 

“This is killin’ me,” I hear him mutter as he exits the house.
 

Closing the door behind him, I lean against it, letting my mind run with how to pick up the pieces of my life. The rumble of his bike cranking causes my heart to skip a beat. I listen as the steady tick of the engine becomes a soothing rhythm as he idles in my driveway. My thoughts slow, and I feel like I can focus on my next steps when I finally hear him pull away. Then there’s the click as he changes gears, the rev of the throttle as he drives off, and in the distance, the drop as he shifts gears, speeding away to face the outside world.
 

 

Sermon has been called again. Given my role within the club has never involved transports, I am learning more about that side of our business on the fly
.
There are two sides to the transportation company. The side that does hauling and moving like most of the truckers running the roads. Then there is the side that gets into business with the likes of the Desert Ghosts. Apparently, my motorcycle club has been offering protection for the Ghosts’ shipments through the Carolinas. We have also arranged some trades with the reservation and handled protection for the once affiliated club. Now I know why the Ghosts have been in and out so much recently, following up on business.
 

We all gather in, and Tripp quickly calls the meeting to open.
 

“Shooter, first order, you need to move Tessie, her boy, and her mom in with you within the week. Roundman secured information for us on some Ghosts’ shipments. We need every spare man we got out on the run. We also don’t need any distractions for us back home. You handle keeping Tessie and her family safe. We will handle stirring things up for Thorn and crew.”
 

“Tripp, this isn’t a normal relationship. She may not want to move in with me so easily,” I inform my club Prez as I remember four days ago when Tessie looked worn slam out yet still refused help.
 

“I get that, but make her see. This is for the club as a whole now. We gave Thorn three days to cough up Shep. He didn’t. My word is we are goin’ to war. Unlike Thorn, I have my shit together, and we’re goin’ after ‘em with everything we’ve got. Handle your woman,” Tripp commands, like this would be as simple as explaining it to Doll.
 

“Fuck! She’s been through enough. Now I gotta rip her from her home? Hell, she doesn’t even want me around.”
 

“Move in with her, then. Either way, I gotta pull the guard off Tessie and onto the road. We got eyes on Doll, Doc Kelley, and the other ol’ ladies, but I don’t wanna put just anyone inside the house with her outta respect for what she went through. It has to be you”—he looks at me then turns his gaze to his cousin and VP—“or I leave Rex behind and he steps in. Which way do you want it, Shooter? You claimed her, now the question is… you gonna step up?” Tripp throws my own words in my face.
 

Rex grins at me. “I’ll take real good care of her, too, man.”
 

As something inside me snaps, Head Case senses it and grabs me when I start to lunge at Rex.
 

“Fuck off, Rex. She’s mine; I’ll handle it.”
 

Piece of shit, son of a bitch. How can he act like this about Tessie? She is not a barfly. I don’t know how far back they go, but those two share a history that is more than either have let on to, yet the fucker is goading me into beating his ass over her.
 

“Make it happen, Shooter,” Tripp orders, knowing he’s pushed me over the edge with Rex.
 

“Affirmative,” I agree, still uncertain as to how I am going to tackle the newest Tessie dilemma.
 

 

Terrors
 

 

“Wouldn’t serve me earlier, bitch, but you’ll serve me now.”
I hear him.
 

Whiskey… cigarettes… I smell him. He is on me. The weight pressing against me. His weight. His fingers… Oh, God, his fingers… This can’t be happening.
 

“Noooooooo!” I scream out into the night.
 

Startled, I wake up, drenched in a cold sweat and tangled in my sheets. Looking around, I see I am in my childhood bedroom. Lavender walls still surround me along with my white lace curtains and white furniture that haven’t changed since I was twelve or so. My eyes adjust to the darkness as I work to settle my breathing. Scanning my darkened space, I stop when I lock eyes on the man in my doorway.
 

“Shooter,” I whisper.
 

This can’t be real. No way, no how is he here in the middle of the night, standing in my doorway, wearing nothing other than some low slung sweatpants. No way, no how can my heart rate speed up in lust for the sculpted man who is mostly a mystery to me. After everything I have been through, why is my body betraying me now? It is Shooter, that’s why. I feel safe with him.
 

God, I am losing my mind. I pat the bedding around me, trying to gather my bearings. The shadow of Shooter isn’t really here; therefore, he can’t be moving over to my bed… can he?
 

“No, no, no,” I whisper into the air around me.
 

“Calm down, baby.”
 

Somebody call Doc Kelly because I am seriously losing my ever loving mind. There is no way Shooter is here, talking to me.
 

I push back my now wet hair from sweating during my nightmare. Then, taking a deep breath, I close my eyes.
Get it together, Tessie.
I blow out my breath and open my eyes. Shooter is now sitting with one leg hanging off my bed, watching me.
 

“Breathe, baby. Inhale,” he gently commands. “Exhale.”
 

These much needed simple reminders take the edge off the rising fear inside me. Doing as instructed, I find myself settling down, the panic subsiding. How does this man calm me?
 

“Shooter, why are you here?”
 

“Some things are changing, and I need to be here for a little while. I’ll sleep on the couch. You won’t notice me,” Shooter answers, watching me.
 

My breathing accelerates as my palms get clammy. Panic fills me once again, but for a totally different reason as I think about him being here in my home. Oh, God, what am I going to do?
 

“Tessie, you need to sleep.”
 

“No, Shooter, I need to shower, and you need to go home. I’ll make do. I always find a way.”
 

“It’s not that simple.”
 

“Look, I’m sorry to inconvenience you with being here, even though I didn’t ask you to come, I might add. I’m also sorry I woke you up, but you need to go home,” I state, hoping like hell he leaves.
 

“Club orders, baby. Either I stay here, or you, your boy, and your mom all have to stay with me. Not negotiable.”
 

“I’m not part of the club, so the Hellions’ orders are irrelevant to me.”
 

He leans in close to me, his hands on either side of me as he comes in nose to nose with me. Our breathing comes and goes together while we both fight to maintain our composure.
 

“Baby, the minute I claimed you, the club owned you.” His face changes into an unreadable emotion. “Is there another brother you’d rather have? Hmmm…?” His agitation with me is no longer held back.
 

“Shooter, this isn’t about Rex.” Pausing, I decide to be as honest as I have ever been with anyone about Drexel “Rex” Crews. “Well, it is, but not like you think.” There, I admitted it. Everything with me is tied to Rex, only no one knows it.
 

He backs away from me only slightly. “So tell me.” He says it so simply. If only it was that easy.
 

At first, keeping quiet wasn’t a problem. As time passes, though, it is no longer about keeping my secret. Now, I have to worry about the repercussions of my once clear decision. My mind spins further. I need space.