“You alright?” I asked, rubbing Sarah's back.
“No!” That was a terrible idea!” she signed emphatically. “But totally worth it.”
I laughed again. After a tough week of something weighing on her heavily it was really good seeing her enjoy herself. Fuck it, for the next few hours we were going to kick it and just enjoy ourselves like normal people. Like we didn't have a care in the world. I put my hand up to get us three more shots, but Sarah was quick to stop me. When the bartender came over I just made it the two knowing Buck finished his without needing to check. Buck drank as much as his brother Yoga didn't.
Buck barely gave the bartender time to pour before he drained the new shot. Ending his call, he pounded his chest twice to release a trapped belch then stood up.
“Rally the guys, Wreck.” He fished two hundred dollar bills out of his wallet and laid them down on the bar. “Timetable got pushed up. We hit Patrick's last rival tonight.”
“You're shittin' me...” I groaned. So much for a night of normal-people debauchery. “Yoga's gonna be the only sober one of us there.”
“Like usual. Let's go. Gotta meet up with the old men at the clubhouse to gear up. Shit's going down.” Buck whistled to Dreamer and Yoga, twirled his finger in the air and thumbed to the door. We all knew what that meant. It was time to go. He turned back to me, clasping a happy hand on my shoulder. “This time tomorrow we'll be riding the fuck out of this cesspool with fat fucking pockets, bro!”
Tomorrow? My expression darkened. We couldn't leave already. We weren't ready yet, the club had too many loose ends to wrap up. But that wasn't really what bothered me. The truth was I wasn't ready yet. I looked back at Sarah who was listening anxiously. I wasn't ready yet to leave her.
“I'll drop Sarah off at the laundromat and head right over,” I said, reluctantly rising off the bar stool as if it were my lifeline to a normal evening with Sarah. Fucking hell. I was just starting to get her to open up.
“No time,” Buck replied through another burp and a round chest pounds. “Fucking rum and cokes... Leave her. Patrick will just have to send someone to pick her up. He's the one that pushed this mission forward a few days.”
“Fuck that. There's no way I'm leaving her in this sketchy-ass neighborhood and hoping that Patrick gets around to sending someone.” I paused, as Buck turned to me with squinting eyes.
“No. Absolutely fucking not,” he preempted me, knowing me too well to not know what I was thinking. All it took was me to just raise my eyebrows a tick for him to get his confirmation. “God dammit, dude! We've got rules.”
“She'll be with us the whole time. Who's she going to tell? Besides, like you said, we'll be out of this cesspool tomorrow anyways so what does it matter?”
“Fuck,” Buck sighed, knowing he couldn't convince me otherwise or physically stop me. “It's your funeral. Dunk is going to be pissed.”
Buck gave me one last displeased look that spoke volumes, then walked off to let his brother and Dreamer know what I'd decided. He was always convinced that my ridiculous sense of honor would be the death of the club. I hoped to hell he was wrong. Looking at Sarah I knew that this was the right call. I couldn't just leave her here, she deserved better than that.
And more than that, I trusted her.
“Looks like you're finally coming to the clubhouse with me.” I tried to manage a weak smile, but I knew it wasn't close to convincing. The timing on all this sucked, but there was nothing any of us could do. This was what we were here for. Do our job, fuck some shit up, then leave. That's all there was to it. I just wished I had more time to find a way to get her away from Patrick.
“I guess so,” she signed in reply. She'd asked me what my clubhouse was like a few times these past few days, but I never gave her a good answer, not really. Now that she was going to see it first hand, if nothing else I figured she'd be more excited.
The look of dread that washed over her told me otherwise.
16
Jezebel
Don't do this. Don't do this. Don't do this. I pleaded with myself while following Wreck and the rest of the Kings out to the parking lot of the bar. The more they talked about their plans tonight the more that damn cell phone seemed to burn a hole in my pocket...and my soul.
Their trust in me was killing them.
“You alright?” Wreck asked in a low voice. Leaning forward, his long hair and thick beard hid most of his face in shadow from the dim outside lights. Except for those dark mahogany eyes, they burned like molten rock with concern, protectiveness...and surprising naivete. Wreck was a rough and ready badass who never backed down and had no problem stepping up or breaking someone down when he thought he needed to, but he had no idea what was coming. What I was doing to them, even now as we walked together. I was his one blind spot.
And it was tearing me apart.
“No,” I mouthed the word honestly.
“Yeah,” Wreck's head lowered. His hard edge took on a distant quality as he looked off into the darkness. I could only guess at everything running through his mind right now.
Past Wreck I could see Buck, Dreamer and Yoga mounting their bikes and starting them up. Harley, Victory, Indian, they all rode different motorcycles. I realized for the first time that each bike engine was a metal heart, and the low rumbling idle was it's unique beat. Motorcycles weren't
