Chapter 3 Callie
THREE
CALLIE
Rose Ridge, Virginia, was a tiny scrap of land huddled against a wide, long river.
The town was old, with weathered brick buildings and thin panes of glass.
Wood structures sported chipped paint and were in desperate need of repairs.
There were only two major grocers, three gas stations, and a few banks stretched across town.
Then there were the coffee huts, and a handful of cafés and clothing shops.
Those little shops were the only redeeming thing about this place.
The thought blinked out as quickly as it came in as I considered how untrue that sentiment really was.
I used to love this place. I loved everything that made it imperfect, but when I left, I had taken the proverbial paint brush and done a wide stroke across this whole city, painting it all in the painful colors that had shaded my life.
Sliding my jacket on, I cleared my throat to chase away any lingering emotion and pulled on the brass knob of my motel door.
Outside, the sky was a gorgeous blue with a streak of hazy white clouds.
The sun was blinding, making me dig for my sunglasses.
Right as I dipped my face, I heard my neighbors exit their room.
“There’s more of them. I’m talking to the manager about it. I heard them all night.”
I smirked as I slid on my shades. The three chrome and black bikes that had been parked in the lot overnight had multiplied into ten, and yes, I could hear them partying all night too.
But I had learned a long time ago to travel with noise-canceling headphones.
The elderly couple in front of me obviously hadn’t.
What did they expect, though? The White Knight Motel I had grown up sleeping in worse.
One of the doors opened a few rooms down, and a figure stumbled outside.
Tattooed arms were all we could see under his leather cut until he turned, and I caught sight of his fitted tank top, revealing every single defined muscle along his chest. I wasn’t staring, but he caught my gaze as he straddled one of the bikes.
He froze for a second, his lips slung to the side in a sensual smile.
“Hey, Beautiful, wanna come for a ride?” he called to me while pulling on his bucket helmet.
I was frozen for an entirely different reason.
Seven years removed from this life still didn’t erase the red flags or gut check you obtained while surviving it.
This guy was dangerous, I could feel it.
I may not know if he belonged to the Stone Riders, without seeing his patch, but there was no doubt there was something dangerous about him.
The elderly couple had said something while loading up their car, but I didn’t catch it. I was too busy tilting my wrist to hide my tattoo. Whoever this was didn’t need to know who I was connected to.
I shook my head as a way of responding because my throat was tight.
Something about him had a trail of angry goosebumps running down my arms. He lifted one of his shoulders before sliding his key in and twisting the handles on his bike.
Then in a loud roar, he was speeding off, and that’s when I saw his colors.
The back of his vest didn’t have the Stone Riders patch.
Instead, it was the Grim Reaper sickle-cutting a skull in half. Death Raiders.
The air was trapped behind my breast.
No, no, no.
I needed to leave before any more exited the motel. I gripped my bag and sleeping bag and threw them both in the back of my car then got inside and locked the doors.
I held my keys in a death grip as I sat there staring at the steering wheel. The past was a ghost with clawed fingers, raking against my mind as I battled to control my emotions.
Death Raiders were in Rose Ridge. Death Raiders were sleeping here, as though they were on vacation. My mind whirled. Had Dad called a truce with them? No way. There’s no way in this life he would, not after what happened.
Clenching my fists, I counted to ten and tried to collect my thoughts.
A lot of time had passed; maybe there was a reasonable explanation for this, but as I wasn’t currently speaking to any of the members from the club and my father, the president, had just died, that meant this little blip would have to go unchecked.
I couldn’t worry about it. This wasn’t my life anymore.
With thirty minutes until my meeting with the lawyer started, my car pulled easily into one of the available spots outside my favorite coffee shop.
The fact that The Drip was still open and bustling with people brought me some sense of joy.
It was nice to see that some things hadn’t changed.
Once I had a medium coffee in my hands and had settled back into my car with the doors locked, I pulled my cell phone out.
I had a few missed texts from my best friend, Laura, who was pet sitting for me.
Laura: he’s a monster
Laura: or at least like a goat. I know his breed is technically Great Dane, but he eats EVERYTHING. He tried to eat my Kindle, Callie. My KINDLE.
Laura: You owe me a thousand dollars in crypto for having to clean up that mess he just made in the street. Yes, the street.
Laura: Why do you live like this? He’s a horse. He just hit me with his tail and now I’m icing my knee. That’s not normal.
I smiled, punching out a new text.
Me: He gives the best hugs. Better than humans.
Me: Be good to him. It’s not his fault he’s a giant. Besides, your finished tattoo will look so beautiful. Just think about that.
Since paying for my dad’s funeral slightly cleaned me out, I was trading a tattoo for her watching Maxwell.
Well, and a few other things. I’d started her mermaid scales a few months ago, and as she helped with things like pet sitting while I took on extra shifts, or went to work-mandated trainings and expos, I would work on her design.
It was almost finished and looked incredible.
Laura: I just went from a medium-sized mermaid to a fucking Loch Ness monster
I sputtered a bit of my coffee, picturing her gorgeous scales transitioning into that creature.
Me: You’re only punishing yourself.
Laura: I feel like it might scare Maxwell when he sees it, so it’d be worth it. So, off-topic, but are you ready to hear what the lawyer has to say?
The reminder of the meeting pulled me back into the moment, making me glance at the time on my dash. I had fifteen minutes.
Me: I’m nervous and desperate to come home. I miss my boy.
Laura: *eyeroll* He misses you too. He keeps sniffing your pillow like a weirdo.
Smiling, I tucked my phone away and started the car up.
I’d rather sit in the law office parking lot, so I didn’t risk being late.
Pulling back onto Main Street, I heard the rumble of a motorcycle behind me.
Gently sipping my coffee, I peeked into my rearview mirror, nervous that it might be the guy from the hotel.
Chrome gleamed under the early sun as a man straddling a black leather seat made his way down the main artery of town.
His dark sunglasses shielded his face, and at this range I couldn’t tell who it was, but I saw the red and white patch color for Stone Riders and immediately released a pent-up breath.
Some things would never change, and regardless of all my emotional damage, the safety I felt when I saw that patch would never waver for as long as I lived. Of that, I was positive.
Still, I wanted to get back home, away from motorcycle clubs and ex boyfriends.
My life in DC wasn’t glamorous or amazing.
I didn’t have a boyfriend, or a family, or an amazing community in which I took refuge.
I had Max, Laura, my chair in the tattoo studio, and a tiny apartment.
It was in one of the worst parts of the city, and the danger I was eager to escape here was likely ten times worse in my stairwell alone.
But it was a harbor for my heart.
It had held me and kept me intact seven years ago, when all I wanted to do was fall apart.
The city was a rough landscape I learned through trial and error.
It was the duct tape to my tattered past, and that shit was still holding.
I hated that a tiny, frail piece of me felt like being back here was tugging at the seams of my proverbial patch job.
Just a few signatures, and a quick document saying I could sell Dad’s car or bike or whatever, and then I’d return to my comfort zone.
The engine behind me cut right, veering off down a different street, and I pushed down the gas a little harder. The sooner this meeting was over the better.
Earl’s office sat near the river, with a gorgeous view of the docks and a few fishing boats.
His building was freshly painted a beautiful sapphire blue with clever signage.
Honestly, it looked like something you’d find in the DC metro area, not small-town Rose Ridge.
It spoke to how well Earl must be doing as a lawyer in this area.
I parked, hopped out, and slammed my car door shut, tossing my cell and keys into my purse.
The glass door pushed open easily as I found my way to a neatly organized desk with two chairs positioned in front of it. Earl wore a similar suit to the one the day before, this time in gray. He waved me over, gesturing toward one of the chairs in front of his desk.
“Just finishing up a few copies, help yourself to coffee or water.”
There was a cute coffee bar to the left of his desk, but I had already had my fill of caffeine, so I took a seat, kicking my leg over my knee. His office wasn’t large, but the windows facing the river offered the illusion of space.
“Okay, we are just waiting for one more and we can get started,” Earl murmured, staring down at the pile of papers on his desk.
My brows caved into the center of my forehead as I processed his statement.
“Who else—”