Chapter 2
INTOXICATING
AUSTIN
Luckily, Sprout vouched for me with Jackson, and I could drink at the Destroyers bar tucked inside a junkyard the club owned and ran.
Even better, there was a broken shell of an RV tucked in a corner of the sprawling lot that had a mattress that smelled like mildew, and a shitter that worked.
The whole unit was the same size as my cell, so it didn’t feel too cramped or too open.
The best part was walking outside any time I wanted or needed to.
The view included an open blue sky ringed on the periphery with barbed wire gates that magically opened.
Their sharp-edged loops reminded me of hell.
Familiar, but I was free for the first time in almost ten years.
It was intoxicating and addictive. I needed something to ground me before I landed my ass back inside.
Sure, there was a halfway program I should check out, but I was time served. Which meant a minimal support system.
Except for the Destroyers.
Sprout, hands down, was the best friend a man could have. I’d prospected years ago and was almost patched in. But two days short of the ceremony, my fuck-ass brother, the real one, took his douche-baggery too far, and I had to kick his ass.
I did such a good job of it; I landed in prison for almost killing him.
Which meant I missed my swearing in ceremony, missed my patch, and missed out on the changes I could have been a part of.
Like Sprout owning a construction company.
Like Wolf finally getting his VP position and losing a leg.
Jackson getting his president’s patch.
Kushman retiring.
So much passed me by.
Now I was starting over from nothing. But at least I still had my prospect spot, and last night, Jackson declared me, “time served,” and handed me the vest I should have put on a decade ago.
It was too tight. I couldn’t button it, and it chafed around my armpits.
Even the weather felt odd. October was great riding weather, if you were used to it.
But I’d been ten years gone, and slowly rotting away inside.
The first few miles were shaky, and by the time I pulled up to the lot where my new job was, I had an overwhelming urge to take off into the chill and never look back.
But as I changed from the too-tight vest and borrowed shirt into what would be my uniform from now until whenever I got fed up with the grind, a flash of color caught my eye.
Sprout hovered over a tiny bundle of curves wrapped up in a tight skirt, bright tropical flower jacket, and shimmering black curls that caught the morning sun and sparkled like diamonds on black silk.
I was struck dumb. I stood there by my bike, gaping at the work trailer for a whole minute, barely remembering to breathe, let alone find my loaned construction helmet.
Then Sprout bellowed for me to get my ass in the trailer, and I got to meet her.
Poppy.
Prettier than a dream. It was hard to believe that she was Pinner’s daughter.
He was an ugly son of a bitch. Everyone in the joint thought he was lying when he pointed to a photocopied photo of a gorgeous Pacific Island knockout, and said she was his wife.
Ex-wife, he’d correct himself under his breath.
That we could believe. But seeing Poppy in the flesh, knowing she was Pinner’s daughter, and smelling the sweet fragrance of whatever perfume she wore?
It was a punch to the chest. I’d never breathe the same again.
Even sweating my ass off, the lingering kiss of flowers returned every time I straighten up and caught a breath of clean air.
By quitting time, those moments were rare. And I thought I was hallucinating when I finally handed off the last board, put away the last hammer, and swept the last deck. That smell was back. I turned around, sensing the breeze, and there she stood.
A vision of paradise haloed by the setting sun. “Hey.”
“Are you hungry?”
I rubbed sawdust out of my ear and asked her to repeat herself.
“I was wondering if you were hungry. Sprout told me you got out on Friday, didn’t have much, and I’m cooking for my sister tonight, but she might not show, and I’d rather not eat a double portion so…
” Her words rambled around, but if I understood correctly, she was asking me to come to her home and eat. I had to make sure.
“You’re asking me, a felon, to your house for dinner?”
“Yes.” She crossed her arms and dipped her head in a firm yes, despite her body language being closed off.
“Are you sure?”
“Sprout wouldn’t hire a pedophile or a rapist, at least I think he wouldn’t so, yes. I’m sure.”
She was right about Sprout. My best friend on the outside was a stand-up guy for being an outlaw biker.
He was a good guy, unless it came to assholes who broke the code.
Then his darker side broke rein and rode havoc on those unfortunate souls.
Rumor had it his father was a rapist, but those rumors were dead wrong.
Sprout knew that. I knew that. The club knew that.
And as such, he had zero tolerance for anyone who was one.
“I’m all dirty.” Why was I turning this beautiful woman down? I should jump at the opportunity. Maybe I’d get laid.
And the resulting thought froze me in place, dumb and scared shitless. The imagined sensation of how Poppy’s lips would taste tilted my whole universe shit-ass-sideways.
“Brush yourself off, I have a bathroom right off the mud room that Dad used to use when he got too filthy. If you have a change of clothes, bring them. Shower. The house is just down the road.” She pointed and rattled off an address.
“Are you for real?” I’d been propositioned by professionals, and none of them offered me a shower. Naked before the first date was going onto the ‘maybe’ list.
She blinked. Then she rallied. “You know my father.”
Caution! Danger! “Yes.”
There was a moment her eyes fell and her smile went with it. It took her more than one deep breath to continue. “If he were out, and no one was around to help him, to get him back on his feet, and, well, show him he’s a good man, then I’d…” Tears welled up.
Whoa, what a way to cut a man.
“I’ll come. Give me about an hour to check in with Jackson and Sprout. If they say I can’t then how do I contact you to let you know?”
“Did Sprout give you a burner?”
He had. But hearing the slang for temporary phone come out of this sweet lady’s mouth gave me pause. “I have a phone, yes.”
She pulled out her cellphone and prepared to dial a number. “Well?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know it yet.” There was no need to know it. No one would call me who didn’t already have the number. Except, I guess, her.
“Oh. Right.” She put her phone away, pulled out a receipt and scribbled her number on the back of it.
As I admired the rounded digits on the paper, she placed her hand on mine.
“Please come have dinner. I was hoping you can tell me a bit about Dad?”
That was a minefield. Her dad was notorious.
A lifer. In prison for fifty years, no parole.
His crime so heinous and blatant no one wanted to defend him.
The lawyer the club hired barely tried, despite there being an obvious reason for what he did.
Like Sprout, Pinner had no patience or qualms about giving kiddie-diddlers their due.
But unlike Sprout, Pinner had no mercy either.
“Your sister is coming?” This wasn’t a date, and I had to be certain of my footing before committing.
“Maybe. I hope so.”
I hoped not. It wasn’t because I wanted to be alone with Poppy, although that would be a bonus. I didn’t want to meet face to face the kid Pinner gave up his life for. I wouldn’t even look when he passed her wrinkled photo around. I couldn’t.
I knew myself better. One look at the cute pigtails, or braces, or a missing baby tooth, and I’d lose my shit and tack on another ten, maybe twenty on the sentence I served. So, I never looked.
And after meeting Poppy and getting first-hand insight how nice she was?
I might still lose my shit when meeting her sister.
With a mental note to call before coming to check on the attendance, I told Poppy I’d try.
“I’m new. And while they gave me a patch, I still need to prove myself. That means…”
“You’re their bitch for a while. I understand.”
She swore? Before I could wrap my brain around that, she beamed one of those genuinely angelic smiles at me and wished me luck.
Then she got in her car. Or tried. That tight skirt, paired with a snack-sized height, and a full-sized Chevy truck meant I got a good look at her ass before she got settled and waved another friendly see-ya-later at me.
I barely noticed the dust I inhaled in her wake.
Poppy Albert. I’ll be damned.
Jackson wasn’t at the junkyard. Sprout wasn’t either.
Wolf and his woman were, though. I kept my eyes above shoulder level when Wolf introduced me to her.
“Tits” damn it… earned her name. She was a biker chick’s biker chick.
Rode a deceptively ugly rat bike and oozed class with deadly sass.
One minute with them, and I could tell she was smitten with Wolf.
Most chicks were. But this one, she had an advantage. Wolf was twice as smitten with her.
“You got any work for me tonight?”
“I don’t. Did you check with Sprout?”
“All done for the day.”
“How was your first day on the job?” Tits asked.
“Good,” I answered, wondering if she asked to be nice or if she was really interested. I double checked with Wolf to make sure I wasn’t overstepping by talking to his woman. But she snapped her fingers in front of my face as I did so.
“Listen up. I may be his wife and shit, but I’m a human and a biker and I’ll kick your ass if you don’t show me the same respect he gets, got it? “
I cleared my throat to set her straight. We were Destroyers not some pansy-ass weekend group. Wolf beat me to it.
“What she said. Dis my wife, I’ll kill you. Once she’s done kicking your ass, that is.”
After including them both in my gaze, I replied, “Understood.” His problem, not mine.
I personally craved sweet, soft… sunshine and flowers.
Poppy’s smiling face popped into mind. But with a glance at the wall of shame, or honor, depending on who you asked, I checked my wayward brain with a good hard look at Pinner’s ugly mug.
“If you don’t need me, I’m going to get dinner. ”
“There’s food here.” Wolf indicated the half-cold cardboard box pizza on the bar.
“Yeah, I’ll pass.”
Wolf grabbed me by the vest. “Are you insulting my wife’s cooking?”
I glanced at Tits, who had pulled out a knife. “That box says she didn’t cook it, some pimple-faced kid did, so again, I’ll pass.”
They both roared with laughter. Wolf wiped his eye and said, “I was wondering when you’d stop being a whupped puppy and start sticking up for yourself. It is good to have you back, Smoke.”
He slapped skin on mine, and we clasped hands as brothers do. “Good to be back. But you got that fucking officer patch and shit, so…”
Wolf looked down at it and scoffed. “Fucking Jackson won’t let me take it off.”
“That’s a lie.” Tits leaned in as she whispered in jest. “He fought hard for that job.”
A shadow fell across her expression as she lowered her eyes. Her hand slipped to his leg, the one with the prosthetic, and her hair covered the secrets on her face better than a veil.
Wolf wasn’t as easy to read. He practically dared me to say something with his stoic glare.
“I can’t think of a better man for it. Thank God Kush finally hung up the saddle. Best thing he brought to the job was his deadly farts.”
“Ha, that’s the truth.” Wolf hugged Tits and the somber mood fled.
Wolf redirected the conversation to me. “Where are you going for dinner? We could tag with, grab a brew or two?”
“Uh. Poppy’s.”
“I’ve never heard of the place,” Tits said.
Wolf on the other hand, shook his head. “Don’t go there. Pinner will kill you.”
“Like he could. Besides, she invited me. Said she’d hope someone would do the same for her dad. I couldn’t really say no to that, could I?”
He made a face. “Yeah… that was dirty pool on her part. No way you could turn that down.”
Tits interrupted. “Wait, Poppy is a girl?”
Funny how both Wolf and I clammed up. “We don’t think of her that way, do we, Smoke?”
I shook my head. My balls were valuable.
Her eyes narrowed. “Ah, I think I get it. Poppy is a legacy, right? Who’s Pinner?”
“A Destroyer. He’s about the same age as Sprout’s dad would be if…”
Tits nodded, understanding the unspoken. “Why haven’t I met him?”
That was easy. “He’s doing time for dismembering his daughter’s rapist.” They never found all the pieces. Rumor inside was that Pinner ate ‘em.
“Poppy’s?”
Wolf shook his head. “Naw, the other one.” His eyes traveled across the room to where a few of the older patch whores hung around the jukebox.
One, a bleached blondie named Jewel, was on her knees sucking off one of the newer members.
Funny, he’d been patched in longer than I had, and somehow, he was “new” when I wasn’t.
Then again, he was barely twenty-six, and I was ready to shakedown my mid-thirties.
I glanced away so she wouldn’t catch me staring. The woman was almost old enough to be my mother. It just felt weird being propositioned by her. My plan was to work hard, and maybe find a cute sweet butt or little mama who’d scratch that itch instead of going the easy-sleazy route.
Wolf slapped my vest. “I want to get some air. Do you mind us riding along?”
“Not at all.” In fact, if Tits and Wolf were with me, they could run interference if her little sister showed up, and I wouldn’t lose my balls if Poppy was all alone.
With me. And unbidden, again, was that fantasy image.
This time, instead of just kissing Poppy, I was inside her, on a beach, in the moonlight. Damn it.