Epilogue
“Maverick,when are you gonna take me out on a date, Baby?” I smile at Fanny as she drops by my table with the cup of Gumbo I ordered twenty minutes ago.
“You know I’m spoken for. My wife won’t take too kindly to you flirting with me.” She sucks her teeth at me before pointing one long gold-painted fingernail in my face.
“You, Cher, are full of shit. I ain’t never seen you with no beau on your arm.” She places my silverware next to my meal a little harshly before sashing her big hips away from me as fast as her legs will carry her.
I sigh as I start eating my meal.
Alone as I always am for dinner. It’s a family meal time. So since my sister is busy with her girls and my brother is busy, well, getting busy, I’ve gotten used to going out for dinner every night. Just so I can be with people in solidarity.
It really is bullshit.
I married my soulmate eighteen years ago in Paradise, Nevada. I gave her my Spider-Man ring from Chuck E. Cheese, and she gave me her baby blue hair ribbon. Right there on the playground in the first grade, Raegan Garcia stole my heart and I have never been able to look at another woman the same again.
We married during lunch and kissed during recess, for which I was suspended for three days. I shake my head at the memory.
“You kissed a girl on the playground?” Mama screamed at me, followed by a bunch of bad words in Russian.
“That’s my boy. What’s her name?” Dad had said while Mama yelled at him not to encourage me.
Smiling, I look around the French Quarter.
We spent five months getting ourselves in so much trouble that year. When she left for summer break, I was heartbroken. Mama wanted me to get therapy, claiming that my obsession wasn’t healthy.
Dad just threw me into harder training at the gym.
Now, here I sit, a twenty-four-year-old biker missing the memory of a girl whom my heart still yearns for. It’s fucking ridiculous.
I order a beer, not ready to go home yet, but when that’s done, I stand and decide to walk home instead of retrieving my back from the clubhouse. The brewery my President Seer owns doubles as a bar and clubhouse for the New Orleans chapter of the MorningStar MC.
I’m the club Sergeant at Arms.
I wear my cut proudly wherever I go. I’m used to the stares and the occasional dirty look. Bikers are the international bad boy to most women and a few men. What I’m not accustomed to is a beautiful blonde woman falling out of an alley right in front of me.
“Lady? Are you alright?” I ask as I rush over to her.
Fall-down drunk girls are a dime a dozen here, but they normally laugh it off and get right up. This woman isn’t moving, and I start to see a trail of blood coming from under her.
I drop my my knees and roll her over.
She’s got a knife stitching out of her lower abdomen. I grab my phone and call 911, telling them where we are and what’s going on. I search her for an ID but come up empty.
“SIR! We need you to let her go.” The EMT’s are trying to help her, but my body is locked.
“I go where she goes,” I growl at them as I pick her up and carry her into the ambulance.
“Okay, big guy. Lay her here and stay out of my way.” I nod and retreat into a corner so she can work.
She rips the woman’s blouse open, and I growl.
My eyes widen when I see a Spider-Man ring on a long silver necklace. I blink because there is no way this woman could be my Raegan. Her hair is straight and blonde instead of brown and curly. The birthmark on her wrist is missing, but as the EMT starts an IV, I see the same half-moon mark further up her arm.
That’s when I see it.
The tattoo on her left hip. My name is right above her panty line, surrounded by dandelions. Some were in full bloom while others were blowing up her stomach, the seeds stopping right under her heart.
“Raegan,” I whisper in shock to myself.
When we arrive at the hospital it’s pure chaos as people start asking questions I can answer.
“Sir, are you related?” I shake my head, not understanding what’s happening.
“You can’t come in then. I’m sorry.” That gets my attention, and I snap.
“I’m her husband.”
I lift my left hand, where I wear a silver ring with pieces of baby blue ribbon given to me by the woman currently bleeding to death beyond a pair of silver doors.
“I’m not leaving without her.”