Outlaw Road (A MC Romance) (3 page)

This was my win, my happy ending, the reason I got up in the morning.

I savored every second I could.

My body throbbed for her warm, wet decadence. I pushed into her, that first glorious thrust, goddamn... her pussy, slick and eager, was the closest to heaven I'd ever get.

“Yeah, yeah!” she cried out.

Once I started, I couldn't get enough. From the second her knees hit that filthy tile, I knew that Tash liked it dirty. Bashful is about the only damn thing I've never been called. I fucked that girl so hard and fast that she had to hug the porcelain just to hang on.

“Fuck!” Tash ripped the tank cover off its cradle. The sheet of porcelain toppled and smashed, sending debris sprawling. She rattled out commands almost incoherently. “More! Harder! Don't Stop!”

I slapped her ass in rapid succession, I could care less what she was saying. Tash's cunt crushed my cock as her hips twisted and pumped against me. This girl was a fucking hurricane and I loved it.

Her muffled wailing melted into a series of grunts. I must have pushed in on every part of her. She began rotating her hips with my thrusts, craving more. Tash grabbed at herself and thrummed wildly. Her lower back vibrated as she came, an explosion that rocked her body.

I was on her heels, the pressure of her warm spasms too much to handle. I hunched over her, filling the condom as I twitched. I wondered if the aftershocks would ever stop.

Sighing, I pulled out and leaned against the wall; my defiant cock stood triumphantly erect. Tash crumbled, half sitting, half lying on the shut toilet seat. This girl did not give the remotest of fucks, she was all about what felt good in the moment and that was all. I envied her in that regard.

“Jesus, that was fucking amazing,” Tash exclaimed through heavy breathing. Once she figured out how to use her legs again, she found the ground and stood up. Walking by me, she stopped, squeezing my engorged shaft. “Mmm,” she moaned.

“If you want more, all you have to do is say please,” I teased, grabbing her ass and pulling her into me.

“I need to walk out of here, not be carried.” She unhanded me and pushed herself away. You never knew what to expect with junkies. I could tell that Tash was at stage just prior to serious addiction, when every touch felt incredible. A part of me would always miss that. It was like your skin was made of fireworks and nothing was ever wrong.

That stage is criminally short. Everything else; time, money, connections, all of it is spent on getting it back. That was the cruelest joke of all; the experience you desperately wanted to recreate was gone forever.

“You should leave first. Don't want your old man to catch you crawling out of here.” Besides, I wanted a minute alone to clean up for the ride.

“Sure thing.” Tash finished wiping herself down and pulled her top back up, buttoning it. She slapped her own ass, admired herself in the mirror, then turned back to ask me, “How much did you win?”

“Enough to know that I probably outstayed my welcome.” I used a bunch of paper towels to clean my cock off, then flushed it all with the condom.

Tash winked and blew me a kiss on her way out. “Thanks for the dick, stranger.”

I nodded distantly in reply. I couldn't help but catch sight of those damn track marks in the nook of her left arm. In five seconds I'd never see this girl again. Tash wasn't my problem.

She'd cease to exist the second that door shut behind her.

“Hey.” I grabbed her arm, stopping her from leaving. I ran a thumb over her fresh pink needle dots, letting the bravado that I wore like armor lower for just a moment. “From one junkie to another... Don't go down that rabbit hole. The further you go, the harder it is to climb back out. There's only empty darkness at the bottom, trust me on that.”

Tash's eyes lowered. “Yeah...” She pulled her arm away and covered the marks with her other hand. “Thanks.”

She shouldered the door open, then was gone.

I sighed, zipping and buttoning my pants. I threw my coat on and splashed some water on my face to clear my head. I looked up, catching my wet, tired face in the sliver of a mirror. I was only twenty-eight, but goddamn, did I feel a hell of a lot older at that moment.

“Life goes on,” I said to my reflection. “Until it doesn’t,” it replied back.

It took me another minute to tear myself away from my own demons. Eventually I collected myself enough to push the bathroom door open. The bar had mostly cleared out by then, save the Road Devils who were probably the ones to do the actual clearing. They stopped talking amongst themselves once they saw me.

I was hoping to catch another glimpse of Tash on the way out, just to see if it looked like what I'd said had sunk in or not. She wasn't anywhere that I could see.
I guess it doesn't matter though. In the end, she'll just do whatever hurts less,
I thought somberly.
And why not? Hell, that's how I've lived.

I'd been off that shit for years but really, I'd just traded one addiction for another.

I tapped my forehead in a casual salute to the pissed off bikers, thanking them for a fun night. As a final fuck you, I threw on my vest, this time over the outside of my jacket. After that, all they could do was fume and watch me walk out.

I had a lot on my mind when I hit the pavement outside, but the crisp Massachusetts' air didn't care. It brushed me, catching me off guard with how chilly it had become since I'd arrived a few hours earlier. The early fall evening enveloped me, hugging me like an angry old friend. The scent of recent rainfall, decaying foliage and spilled motor oil filled my nose. The dark sky was clouded over. 

I walked toward my bike, catching a flash of hidden lightning in the distance. It touched down somewhere a few miles out, lazily followed by booming thunder. I slowed to light a cigarette, knowing I wouldn't be able to enjoy it for long before the rain came back with a vengeance. I could feel it through the bullet fragment lodged in my shoulder. The healed-over bones always ached when a storm was coming.

In a way, what happened next was my own damn fault. I'd spent so much time worrying about my enemies that I foolishly hadn't been worrying about my
friends
.

The brick to the back of my head brought me to my knees. I still had a buzz on from all the booze, which was probably the only thing that kept me conscious.

“Give me the fucking money!”

Even dazed, I immediately put it together that it was Tash's voice. She was waiting for me outside, that's why I didn't see her at the table with the other bikers. Smart girl.

I turned to see if she was alone. She was. Then, in my stupor, I searched for my fallen cigarette. I couldn't find it. A hard rain was coming, and all I wanted was one last smoke before it crashed down.

“Give it to me or I swear to god, I'll bash your fucking brains in!” She thrust forward just to pull away again; keeping the brick raised, ready for another strike.

Through my fog, I couldn't help but notice that it was such a beautiful night out. Brisk and clean. I turned over so my ass was more firmly seated on the blacktop. The world still spun around me, but I d been thrown from my bike enough to know that the feeling would eventually fade.

“Do it!” she screamed, dropping the brick and pulling out a gun. It was a tiny thing, maybe a twenty-two caliber pistol. Not much stopping power, but it would certainly ruin my day. Why was she in such a rush? It wasn't like I was going anywhere.

My head finally started to clear, I realized that she wasn't sent by Wrex for some sort of indirect revenge. This was all Tash, and she didn't want to get caught. All junkies were opportunists. Well, who was I to delay her? I pulled out my wallet, folding all the cash as I held it up. “This is a bad idea, Tash.”

“I'm the one with the fucking gun! Put the money on the ground. What? You think that because we fucked and shared some happy junkie moment, that we're friends?”

Being reckless, stealing, arson, murder; all that shit I could handle. It was shit like
this,
letting my guard down and giving a damn...

That's what really got me into trouble.

“If you take this money, it'll kill you.”

“Are you fucking serious? You're going to threaten me?” Tash racked her pistol. A perfectly good, live round popped out of the ejection port on the top of the gun. She probably saw on TV that cocking a gun is what you do when you want to raise the tension, or show that you mean business. All it does in real life is just waste a round and make you look foolish. She'd obviously never fired a gun before.

Tash looked worried for a moment, like she wasn't sure if it would spontaneously fire, but she soldiered through and re-aimed the gun back at me. I lightly shook my throbbing head in amused disbelief, damn near laughing out loud at how absurd it would be if this was how I went out; accidentally gunned down by a junkie in a parking lot.

I tossed the wad of money on the ground by her feet, confident that, as stressed and hurried as he was, she wouldn't take the time to count it. Then I laid back on the cold pavement and looked up at the night sky.

Tash snatched up the cash, got in her car and disappeared from my world. She had no parting words for me. She'd thought I'd been threatening her. Funny thing is, it was a warning.

I'd only put about two hundred in my wallet, so it wouldn't be the haul she'd be expecting. It would be enough to get her a few balloons... or whatever they were calling
doses
of heroin these days.

With that much money though, she'd probably get talked into an up-sell and buy a full gram. Properly separated that would last her a week, maybe two, but if she fucked up the dose amount she'd just nod off and never wake up.

I sighed and slid a hand over my face, reminding myself that she wasn't my problem. Hell, she'd robbed me. I didn't owe her shit. Still, I've always had a soft spot for junkies.

I forced out a smile, it was bitter like sour candy. “Just another day in paradise,” I chuckled, knowing full well that one of these days that soft spot was going to get me killed.

The cherry tip of the cigarette rolled its way to my palm, burning me enough to recoil from it. “Hey, buddy. Thought I lost you.” I reached over and grabbed it. I laughed again when I put it in my lips. “At least I
know
that you're trying to kill me.”

Closing my eyes, I breathed that soothing cancer in as deeply as possible. I held the smoke in until it turned my lungs to ash, hoping it would burn away my soul, or at the very least, my goddamn nagging conscience.

My pocket vibrated. I let the smoke escape, it streamed from my nostrils.

“Yeah?” I asked, not bothering to look at the number. I knew it was my club calling.

“Hey, Ronin. We need you in south Jersey to back Repo up ASAP,” Tee said. He was an old friend from our club's mother chapter. I hadn't talked to him in awhile.

“Hey, Tee, it's been— Did you say Jersey? That's Knights' territory.”

“Remy sent Repo to broker a deal with their regional Pres. This is some serious club negotiation shit.” Tee was always good for laying it out as it was.

“Our Red Bank chapter isn't running protection? They're a hell of a lot closer.”

“It's a small meet, neutral location. Only one enforcer on each side and Remy wants that someone to be you.”

“Sounds fun. I've been dying for a hoagie anyways. You ever been to Carmen's Cold Cuts?” I asked.

“Nah, but pick me up a doggie bag. And one last thing. Repo does the talking, you hear me? These guys are pretty ruthless, don't piss anyone off!”

“My reputation precedes me. I'll be on my bestest behavior, brother. Cross my heart, hope to die,” I mumbled. My head was sore, I could feel the swelling starting.

Tee laughed. “That's what I'm afraid of. Stay outta trouble, man. Good talking with you, Ronin.” He hung up, the line going stale.

Sporadic dots of something wet nipped at my face. I opened my eyes.

Snow. It was barely October.

Fucking New England weather...

I dragged myself to my feet and took another drag off the cigarette. I didn't have to worry about the cold for long. The Knights of the Only Order had a way of heating things up, but I guess that's why our pres wanted me there personally.

In a climate like that, I would thrive.

Flora

––––––––

I
kicked aside the trail of empty bottles. Like usual, they'd accumulated into a pile, circling the body on the floor the way people might surround a casket at a funeral.

Okay, too grim,
I chided myself. Bending over my unconscious mother, I wrinkled my nose as the smell of booze assaulted me. Finding my parents like this wasn't new, but each time, I swear it got worse.

Gingerly, I set a bottle of water beside her temple. “Mom,” I hissed. She didn't react. I checked her breathing and, satisfied that she was alive, placed a paper bag near the water. “Hey, Mom, it's Flora. There's a sandwich and some aspirin in there. Okay?”

Not waiting for the response that would never come, I stood up, cracking my back. Taking care of my parents was just part of my reality. Though I'd moved out over four years ago, the day I'd turned eighteen, I'd accepted the responsibility of watching over them. Dopefiends to a fault, they were awful at caring for their own basic needs.

Well, beyond satisfying their addictions.

Call me crazy, but even through all this shit, I still loved them.

Abandoning them never occurred to me.

Until now.

This is different,
I reminded myself. It was my mantra, at this point. Things had always been messy in my life, but they'd been predictable. Small towns went one of two ways; they were either Christmas-card-picturesque where everyone new each others' names, or they were like my personal hell, Lakeville. Pretty name. Not a pretty place.

Here, no one cared what anyone else did. The lack of jobs and healthy distractions meant most teens—and adults—spent their time wasting away on whatever they could stick into their bodies. Alcohol was tame, people drove around with open cans of beer and bottles of straight whiskey.