Chapter Forty-Five #2
Eliza was a tough bitch, though. She screamed at the contact of Mom’s fist, stumbled back, and quickly recovered, ignoring the blood pouring from her nose. She swung at Mom, hitting her in the stomach.
The crowd hampered access to the two women. But there was enough room for the fight and for Ryan’s clear view since everyone gathered around in a circle with some sitting at tables and others pressing against each other on the sidelines.
Ryan thought his mother would give in. Instead, it enraged her.
“Puff!” Pops called.
“Chester, baby,” Mortician said.
Mom heard nothing . Ryan stared stupidly at his mother. She was fucking fighting, ducking, weaving, bobbing, and throwing punches like a pro boxer.
“Do you know who you’re fucking with, cunt?” Eliza screamed.
“A dead bitch,” Mom snarled, and punched her in her mouth. “You fucked with my son.” She kicked her knee.
Pops and Uncle Christopher finally got to them and tried to drag Mom away. Either they weren’t trying hard enough or she was too enraged because Mortician and Cash had to join in.
“Who are you?” Eliza demanded.
“Zoann, go to my fuckin’ office,” Uncle Christopher said. “Lemme handle this.”
Mom kicked him. “Fuck you. She didn’t force your son to fuck her.”
Pops went white. “What ?” He turned to Ryan. “Son—”
Ryan didn’t know what to say. A part of him was relieved someone knew. He hated how dirty it made him feel. On the other hand, everyone was staring at him and—
Their hold on Mom loosened and she pounced on Eliza again, banging her head into the wall. Uncle Christopher, Mortician, and Cash ignored the bets the bikers were placing and managed to pull Mom away.
Eliza slid to the floor, unconscious.
Mom fell against Uncle Christopher and sobbed so pitifully, Ryan wanted to hide or hug her or tell her he was sorry.
“She forced her pussy on you, son?” Pops asked in a ragged voice.
Over the weeks, Ryan had learned a lot about his father. Mainly, that he used his fists as a last resort and that he wasn’t as much of a wimp as Ryan believed.
“There’re pictures, Val,” Mom cried. “Christy…” She hiccupped. “I didn’t want you to see them. I know what you went through—”
CJ and Ryan exchanged glances. What the fuck had happened?
“Puff.” Pops’s voice drew Ryan’s attention again. “What happened to me…” He glanced away. “It can’t compare to what you suffered.” His voice was thick. “I love you. Always have and always will, til I draw my last. It don’t matter how bad shit is. My job is protecting you and our boys.”
She clung to Uncle Christopher and he whispered to her.
“I love you even fucking more for trying to protect me, Zoann,” Pops said.
“Outlaw!” Nyx suddenly wailed. “My party’s ruined. Make the old ladies leave, so we can get to the fun.”
“Shut the fuck up before I cancel your motherfuckin’ party,” Uncle Christopher snapped.
“I invited Eliza. My guests should go unmolested.”
“You need fucking up, too,” Mom spat.
“Eliza’s my friend,” Nyx said coldly. “This is my initiation. I was told to invite whoever I wish. I didn’t invite you , so leave. Your job is done.”
Mom forgot her despair and moved like lightning, kicking the platform with Nyx’s litter several times before it tipped over.
As it collapsed, Mom snatched Nyx by the hair and they disappeared from view in a tangle of fists and legs until Pops, Uncle Christopher, Mortician, and Cash dragged Mom away.
Nyx stumbled to her feet, her mouth and nose bloody. Mascara blackened her tears. “Outlaw—”
“Shut the fuck up, Nyx,” Uncle Christopher ordered. “You got some fuckin’ explainin’ to do. How the fuck you invited the fuckin’ old lady of a Gnome?”
“Eliza’s been showing up wherever me and some of the girls were for the past six months,” Nyx said faintly.
The seriousness of the situation finally seemed to dawn on her.
“In December, she suggested we have lunch together every so often. Last week, I was talking about my initiation and she asked for an invitation.”
Eliza moaned, interrupting Uncle Christopher’s contemplation of Nyx.
“Chester, baby, I got to teach you how to bash a motherfucker so they in a coma,” Mortician said.
Pops walked to Eliza and watched as she staggered to her feet.
Uncle Christopher stepped toward Nyx, but Pops shook his head and nodded at Mom. Uncle Christopher took her in his arms again, while Pops drew his fucking.357 Magnum, shoved the muzzle against Eliza’s forehead and pulled the trigger.
Some of the girls screamed while blood and brain matter sprayed on Nyx, who hollered and stumbled back. As Pops took Mom into his arms, Uncle Christopher crooked his finger at Nyx. Sobbing, she staggered to him.
“See that dead cunt? That’s gonna be your motherfuckin’ ass if I find out your fuckin’ over the club—”
“I’m not,” she cried. “I swear. I didn’t know Eliza…I thought the Dwellers didn’t k-kill women—”
“You fuck over our women, you get fucked up.” Diesel chose to impart that. Of all the motherfuckers.
Ryan didn’t want to poke the bear, so he shut the fuck up.
“One other thing,” Uncle Christopher continued.
“If you ever fuckin’ talk to any old lady with such fuckin’ disrespect, your fuckin’ privileges revoked and you barred from the club.
Not only is Zoann married to an officer, she my fuckin’ sister.
For her, Ima give a warnin’, but my woman not here for a fuckin’ reason.
If you know what the fuck’s good for you, you gonna stop fuckin’ with my Megan for fuckin’ real.
Not that fake fuckin’ bullshit you handed when she brought your bitchy ass back to the club. Underfuckinstand?”
Nyx nodded. Vigorously .
Outlaw giving an order was one thing. Outlaw screaming an order near a dead woman hit completely different.
It brought Ryan back to the day Outlaw beat him and Mom begged for his life.
“Is the party canceled, Prez?” Narci asked.
Uncle Christopher shook his head. “Mort, Digger, get rid of Eliza. Stretch, if she have a phone, analyze it and we’ll go from there.
Potter, clean the fucking blood. Nyx, clean the fuck up.
Val, take Bitsy home. The rest of you motherfuckers, do what the fuck you wish.
I’m goin’ to my fuckin’ office ‘til CJ ready to leave.”
Pops wrapped an arm around Mom’s waist and started for the door.
“Wait!” Ryan called, racing through the press of people. Once he reached his parents, he hesitated, before he hugged his mother. “Thanks, Mom.”
There was nothing like the comfort of a mother’s arms. He’d forgotten that for a while and rejected every overture. Now, when she hugged him, he kissed her cheek.
“I love you, son.”
He straightened. “I know.” He looked at his father, not knowing what to say.
Pops offered him the barest of smiles. “You’re welcome, boy.”
Ryan merely nodded.