Chapter 11
Road
I stare at the tapestry with the symbol of the Vulture Hollow MC, a menacing vulture perched atop a skull and surrounded by lightning bolts, some of which bear a close resemblance to knives. The noise keeps growing, but I’m unwilling to join, locked in my own skull cage, along with all my dirty thoughts about Clyde Turner.
When Rooster let us know there was trouble, I showed up and dealt with the situation as well as I could. My job is done. But Harvey’s is to make sure his son outlives him, and he’s raging. Luckily, he wasn’t around to go with us when the call for help came through, because if he got this erratic during the confrontation in the woods, it could have ended very differently.
“It’s nothing, they barely touched me,” Rooster says, sitting cross-legged in the old wooden chair he favors. I’ve seen the bruises forming on his abdomen, but there are few things more embarrassing for a teenager than their parents fussing over them in company, so Rooster tries to play it cool.
“They shouldn’t have even been there!” Harvey roars, pacing in front of the large wooden table where we meet when club business needs to be discussed without prying eyes.
Prophet shakes his head, arms crossed on his chest. “Technically, that road was available to them, but they shouldn’t have accosted Rooster, that’s for sure. ”
“But do we really want to break the peace over this?” Sad Billy chimes in with a scowl. That expression never leaves his face though, so I’m not sure how against that he is.
As they start arguing over the truce and whether we should uphold it, I stew in the fact that Clyde still hasn’t messaged me. Not even a we’re-good or whatever. I’m not a patient guy on the best of days, but right now, I feel like a wolf with its teeth removed when all I want to do is chew on a juicy bone.
At this point, I’d vote against the peace just so I can get my hands on Clyde in some way. But then he likely would have arranged a meeting and stabbed me in a way I don’t want to be stabbed, and that would not do. Not really.
As Prophet attempts to cool Harvey’s temper, I move my gaze over photos hung on the log walls of our clubhouse. It’s a simple space, but cozy and full of memories. A few of the guys’ old ladies keep it nice and clean, but it still has the calming vibe of an old school man-cave with mismatched furniture that’s either second-hand or built by someone within the community. It’s now warm enough that the large stone fireplace in the middle of the main room rarely gets lit, but there’s always a pile of wood waiting for someone to ignite it.
Then again, maybe the heat is misplaced, because my insides are blazing with want like never before. The fuel’s always been there, an unspoken secret. But with Clyde burning so bright, how could I not catch fire when he got close?
I know he’s a bad guy. He’s done shitty things both to me and my club over the years, but when I’m reminded of his throaty moans and how his cock felt in my hand, all the issues kinda drift away. Just today, he was there, harassing our prospect, but all I can think of is how he smelled and how intense his gaze was.
I get up, because I’m of no use to the conversation anyway.
“You’re off?” Prophet’s head whips back at me, and while his long dark hair is more messy and coarse than Clyde’s blond waves, it still makes me think of what I can’t grab.
I pinch myself, because I am not letting myself have any erotic thoughts about my best friend.
“Yeah, need to get Smokey checked out. She’s making a tapping sound I don’t like,” I say and slide off the table, which served as my chair since we arrived. I wave at my brothers as I head for the door.
I really need air. Preferably, I’ll get some while emptying my balls .
My mind is already drifting to doing that into Clyde when someone taps the back of my shoulder.
Prophet. “Wait, I’ll come with you,” he says as we leave the clubhouse building.
I can still hear Harvey raising his voice, but that’s not my problem anymore. Too bad I can’t drift off to fantasy land on my own, or text Clyde just for the blue balls of it.
“Um, okay? Anything you wanna talk about?” I ask, because Prophet would not be leaving everyone if he had no ulterior motives. “I’m not getting another fortune reading,” I say, walking down the steps leading to the porch of the clubhouse.
“No, I just…” Prophet starts fiddling with an amber pendant as we make our way beyond the area that’s only accessible to the Vulture Hollow MC and our guests. “You’ve been… moody, man. Everything all right?”
It’s a sunny day, so warm in fact I’ve heard some of the teens say they’ll go swimming in the lake. I’m not oozing any of that shiny joy from my heart. Maybe I have to admit I’m feeling rejected, and it hurts like a motherfucker. But I can’t tell Prophet about any of it.
“Is being a shrink your new gig?” I ask in a light-hearted voice, but even I know my movements remain stiff as I stuff my hands down my pockets and walk through the gate, descending the hill where our clubhouse is located.
“I just can’t have you distracted, brother,” he says even though we both know he cares.
He’s no touchy-feely guy, I’ve seen him cut a man’s throat open, and he was the one who helped me entrap Roy Turner, but it’s that warmth and skill in observing others that makes him a good leader. He’s only a few years older than me, but people follow his suggestions because they trust him, not because they fear him. I want him to be proud of me too, but how can I bare myself when the secret I carry would be impossible for him to accept?
One time, Prophet told me a story from ancient Sparta, about a boy who stole a fox, and when discovered, kept lying until the animal chewed into his insides, resulting in the boy’s death.
I am that boy, and like him, I will not make a peep about my sexuality, or what I want to share with Clyde. If that vicious animal of a secret ends up being my doom, I accept that.
But I have to give Prophet something. “There’s just… stuff going on. I’ll be back to normal soon. ”
“Okay, but you can talk to me if you need to.” He gives me a brotherly pat on the shoulder, which I do appreciate.
If Clyde wasn’t one of the Butchers, I would have tracked him down, gone to his house or something, but it’s too fucking risky.
Prophet goes on. “I’m voting for keeping the truce for now, we’re not ready for a war, but between you and me, Clyde and his uncle need to go. They won’t stop throwing salt at this whole Roy wound.”
My stomach squeezes into a ball, and I barely stop myself from holding on to where the cramp is most painful. But I’ve been through far worse than the threat of my enemy-with-benefits being offed, so I keep my composure as we stride across the central part of the settlement, passing a playground for the children, which the members have erected themselves. Everyone greets us in some fashion, and we answer in kind, even though both Prophet and I have our heads in stormy clouds.
“And how would that not end in a war? They will know it was us. And even if they won’t know , they’ll choose to believe that.”
“They’re the only Turners left. The legacy of their father, Grizzly’s brother, lives on in them. Prune those branches, and I doubt those left behind will care as much about revenge when someone new takes the helm.”
I wouldn’t spit on Grizzly if he was on fire, but Clyde… I’m feeling a bit selfish about him when I remember how he smiled at me.
He’s my bone. I want to chew through him until I reach the marrow, and even after that, I’ll want to have him around.
This alone is betrayal, I know that.
Fuck.
“I think you’re underestimating their loyalty,” I say, averting my eyes when two parents help their young son off the fake castle in the playground. This place makes me feel weird, so I tend to avoid it.
Instead, we turn toward the two large barns that serve as garages. Several people work there, but I’ve got my favorite guy who knows how to handle my motorcycle. Isaac is a forty-something guy who joined our commune a few years back, and his passion for everything to do with cars and bikes shines through in his work.
“You’re just talking out of your ass,” Prophet grumbles. “Several of the Butchers never even met Gary Turner, so what do they care about the club founder?”
“Nothing, but they do know Grizzly and Clyde,” I mutter, pushing through the side entrance and into the garage. I’m hit by the scent of motor oil and gas. It would have been a relief if I didn’t want to be alone, because my thoughts keep gyrating back to Clyde’s eyes, mouth, his hard body under mine…
Isaac will serve as an excellent distraction, so I look around, from the enclosed space where one of the mechanics is repainting the van delivering supplies to the community kitchen, over to where Val, the lone female worker here is snacking on chips.
“You know what? We need to do some digging and find out who in their club actually—” Prophet has to bite his tongue when Isaac greets us with a smile, because this isn’t a conversation for civilians.
And good, because I don’t have the mind for it.
Just as I squeeze Isaac’s hand and ask about my bike, the phone in my pocket buzzes.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
My blood runs hotter, creating vapor inside my skull. How am I to think clearly, when it could be Clyde’s messages burning in my pocket?
I want to grab my phone, but Isaac’s talking to me. What is this about? I mean, I did come here about the bike—theoretically—but as my mind drifts off, to the world of my dreams, where Clyde is always waiting for me, ready to meet my gaze and offer me his body, I only hear every other word and end up staring at him with my mouth open.
The mechanic pulls up his T-shirt, revealing his tattooed abs, and wipes his handsome face with the hem. I used to eye him quite a lot, discreetly of course, but he has nothing on Clyde. Not to mention that attempting to flirt with someone from my own community is a definite no-go.
“Yes,” I say, because whatever I’ve been asked, there’s a fifty-percent chance of this being the right answer.
Isaac cocks his head. “Yes to which? Blue or red?”
Open questions should not be a thing.
“I’m… not good with that kind of shit. Ask one of the girls,” I say and step away when Prophet cuts in, because my phone just buzzed again, and I can wait no longer.
Prophet’s gaze trails to something farther in the garage and he says he’ll talk to me later.
My relief knows no bounds .
I step outside so I’m sure no one’s looking over my shoulder, and there it is. Messages from Clyde.
A pin dropped on a map.
[Here.]
[Come.]
[No knives needed…]
He could have just as well pulled on the leash around my neck. I chuckle as excitement bubbles up in my chest, to school my face back into its usual neutral expression when Val raises her eyebrows at me from the chair where she’s having her snack.
I retreat with a quick wave at her, and while I want to appear casual, my legs soon speed up, and I break into a jog on the way to the clubhouse where we all keep our bikes.
I’m not wasting another minute.