Chapter 15 #2
I already knew as much based on what I’d heard. “I’m not judging. I’m trying to understand, and if anything, be prepared.”
Harris made a sound of agreement before moving toward his bike.
We began doing the same toward Callie’s car when my heart pinched tight.
“Did you grow up with that sort of response from people because of your dad?”
She paused, staring at me with a surprised expression.
“Yeah, actually I did. It’s not new to me and it doesn’t bother me anymore. I would have liked to shop local, but it’s her loss.”
“Damn straight it is. Stupid, snobby bitch.”
Harris laughed, shaking his head while he pulled on his helmet. It was parked directly behind Callie’s rig.
“I’m hungry. Let’s go eat.”
We went to a soup and salad place with tall, deep booths and soft lighting. It was cozy and warm, thanks to a fire roaring in the hearth. It was early November, but a chill had definitely entered the air, and the clouds were heavy with an impending storm.
While we ate, I decided to fill Callie in on what small information I could share with her while not divulging everything. I landed on telling her what had happened with Kip that big initiation night.
My best friend’s eyes were blown wide the second I finished.
“So that’s what Wes was talking about?”
“What?” I moved my salad around with my fork.
Callie shrugged, ducking her head until she was focused on her meal. “Nothing, he was just on the phone asking questions to someone. I’m assuming it was Giles, because he kept saying things like, ‘he did what, and how bad was it, is he going to be okay’ those sorts of things.”
“I have no clue why Killian lost it on him like that,” I lied, already knowing full well he’d lost it like that because Killian considered me his plaything. Nothing more, or less, just a toy.
But his just the same.
Callie kept her face down and her tone low. “He doesn’t like seeing women hurt…something to do with his dad, I’m sure. He’s in prison for murdering a Sweetbutt. She was really young, like nineteen or something.”
The memory of Killian’s nonchalant threat of being dared to go in his attic slammed back into me, forcing my fork to drop. He was being serious…
“Don’t worry, he’s behind bars,” Callie was quick to reassure me, swallowing her bite of food, “My dad never lifted a finger to help him get out, and I know Killian won’t either as president. Jefferson is still loyal to the Stone Riders, even if he’s in prison.”
Jefferson, that was Killian’s dad’s name. His father, the murderer.
“Okay I have to know.” I blinked, feeling untethered and confused.
“Why would Killian take me to his dad’s house and act so casual about it?
He said he took hookups there. I mean…is something wrong with him?
Doesn’t it seem sort of strange that he’s so comfortable being in the place where the murder happened? ”
Callie’s focus was completely on me now, her lips spreading into a smile.
“The murder didn’t happen in that house. Poor Jenny was found in a dumpster behind Strings. She was a dancer in Pyle…”
I felt so stupid.
With my face blanching, I lowered it. “Oh. Well good then. I was worried Killian was a sociopath.”
Callie started laughing.
“I don’t doubt there were things he’s seen in that house; regardless, it is odd that he took you there.
That location is secret and no one outside of the club is allowed to know about it.
I don’t think he’s taking his hook-ups out there though…
Killian doesn’t exactly go all the way with women… I mean as far as I know.”
She had my full attention now. “What do you mean exactly?”
I was being greedy, knowing what Killian had told me himself, but ravenous for an extra perspective.
Her face flushed while her eyes flicked over to Harris, who was a few tables away. Then she lowered her voice and leaned in.
“Sweetbutts talk. I’ve been gone for seven years, so who knows if any of it’s true, but I’ve heard a few call him the ‘suck-off-king.’ The girls have a bet going to see who can get him to cave first. I guess he talks about fucking and all that, but in the end, the girl just sucks him off, then he loses interest, or just doesn’t want to go all the way.
I have no idea, but back in the day, Kil would always stay in the club.
Girls would try to kiss him; he’d dodge them, until eventually one would just settle for getting on her knees. ”
The image of girls kneeling in between his knees was like a knife in the chest, but somehow it was a thousand times better hearing that he didn’t have as many oral hook-ups as he made it seem, and that he’d been telling the truth.
Callie waved her hand as though she was dismissing the whole thing off.
“The only thing I know for sure is that he doesn’t kiss, the rest is all hearsay and a bunch of rumors.”
“He doesn’t kiss?” I scrunched my nose while my heart was thundering in my chest.
Kiss me.
He’d ordered me.
It wasn’t something we’d fallen into; he wanted it. Demanded it.
Twice.
My best friend’s dark hair swayed as she shook her head.
“That’s a definite no. Even Wes commented on it a few months back when one of the Sweetbutts had a fit over his rejection.
She snuck into his room in the club house and said all she wanted was a kiss.
Kil didn’t do it. Even as we were growing up, he never did.
Always said kisses were like pebbles, you give one and suddenly you’re being buried six feet deep because you’re fucked in the head and in love. ”
My fork clattered to the plate.
Callie flinched at the sound.
“Sorry.”
He’d shared an even deeper sentiment regarding pebbles…and said he didn’t want to lose himself to me…and yet he kissed me, and then he fucked me.
Suddenly I needed more. I was desperate for details about him, and I needed to understand why he changed his rule for me, of all people.
I was about to prod further into Killian’s life when there was a commotion happening outside. Turning in the booth, I watched through the glass as a familiar looking red car was flying down main street with its tires screeching as it took a turn onto our side street.
I watched in horror as the car stopped next to Callie’s and the person in the passenger seat jumped out, wearing a mask. It was one of those harry wolf masks with the exaggerated jaw and fake teeth, but it covered the person’s identity completely.
They took out a white bottle and began spraying it all over Callie’s car.
“Oh my god.” Callie gasped.
“Harris!” I screamed, jumping out of the booth.
The biker ran over and grabbed Callie, tugging her away from our table.
“Laura!” I heard Callie screaming as Harris lifted her off her feet and carried her out.
The fucker outside had a Zippo lighter.
I was at the door before I heard people screaming for someone to call 911.
It swung open for me with a whoosh, and I was running toward the car.
“What the fuck are you doing?!” I screamed, flying toward the guy.
“Carl!” I heard the driver yell; he was wearing a wolf mask as well.
The man, Carl I guess, looked up and locked eyes with me.
“Don’t you dare!” I shouted, placing my left boot on the front tire of Callie’s rig, and then vaulted up onto the hood. The lighter fluid made the surface slick and I nearly slid right off, but I gripped the opening near the windshield right at the last second.
“You fucking crazy?” the man screeched, the Zippo still open in his palm.
The rumble of engines echoed from down the street, indicating motorcycles were on their way.
The driver leaned his head out of the window. “Carl, get in the car now! Leave it, you’re not about to light some random pedestrian on fire!”
Carl seemed to shake himself out of it; the Zippo dropped to the ground and then he dove into the back seat before the car took off down the road.
I was covered in lighter fluid, and my hand was nearly cramped from how hard I had gripped the edge of the hood, somehow my knee felt tweaked. Finally letting go, I slowly slid off the hood as people began filtering out of the restaurant.
I eyed the Zippo and looked around before taking a Kleenex from my pocket and ducking to grab it.
The woman in the store was right, the Stone Riders didn’t do business with the police, except for the ones on their payroll. Whoever these guys were, they knew who Callie was and what car she drove. This was a direct attack on the club.
“Laura!”
I spun, seeing Callie on the back of Harris’s bike.
Suddenly two more Stone Riders pulled up behind him. I ran toward the closest one, not even knowing who it was. I jumped on the back, and the rider took off down the road. I wrapped my arms around his waist and my head was tucked into his back as we made our way back to the club.
The cold air whipped at my back and my thin sweater.
I could see why people wore leather while riding motorcycles.
Within minutes of being plastered to the back of the man in front of me, I was shivering.
Rain pelted us painfully hard as we hurried through the city and pushed toward the outskirts of Rose Ridge.
Trying to hide my face in the leather of the rider, I briefly slipped my eyelids open when I heard the sound of several other engines edging in beside us, there were a dozen more members flanking us.
I was still new to the club, but I assumed them gathering like this meant they all must have learned about the attack.
A sudden surge of pride and an odd warm feeling of peace thrummed through me.
I knew at that moment that I was safe. For months I had felt like the tag along, a misfit in this club.
I kept my head down and worked, earning a paycheck and soaking up the time I spent with my best friend, but the dynamics of the Stone Riders hadn’t really clicked for me.
I didn’t really get the appeal for anyone to give up their weekends and pledge their loyalty to a band of like-minded people. Now I understood it.