Edge of Ashes (Sons of Ash Motorcycle Club) (6 page)

“Sorry… Last thing I knew I was fighting
these two guys with knives and suddenly someone is looming over me and I’m
lying on the ground. Well, lying on a table. It was a little disorienting.”

“Well now you better hold still because the
number I just did on your shoulder is the least of your problems. You do seem
to be breathing okay so maybe your lungs are fine.”

He’s just about to say something else when
Doctor Michael Shanahan walks in.

“It’s you,” he says by way of greeting.

The good doctor’s face is still showing
signs of the beating he took last week at the hands of my ex. The whole
experience has soured him on the whole biker thing and tonight his ER is full
of them.

“So what happened here?” He asks Adam.

“
Someone
,” Adam begins while glaring
at me, “went postal on me.” Adam replies, indicating his bleeding shoulder.

The doctor glances at the six tiny puncture
wounds. “Strange, these aren’t the same blade used on your other wounds. Were
you attacked by more than one person; both using knives I assume?”

I do my best to communicate to Adam to not
throw me under the bus, but he just smiles and throws.

“Three attackers actually,” Adam begins. I
can tell he is savoring the moment. “Two bikers and one completely nuts woman.”

“What was she using, a nail file?” Doctor
Shanahan asks.

“A scalpel actually.”

“Really?” All the while that Doctor
Shanahan is talking to Adam he is working on his wounds and getting him ready
for x- rays when he is stable enough to transport. “Where’d she get a scalpel?”

“Right over there.” Adam replies, pointing
to the tray where I got the scalpel from.

Now Michael is confused. He looks at Adam
like he’s waiting for him to laugh at his own joke, but when no laughter is
forthcoming he really gets confused.

I have to step in. “Sorry Michael, it was
me.”

“You gave some woman a scalpel?” He asks
me.

“I was the one who used the scalpel on his
shoulder.” I reply.

The doctor looks at me for a moment then
says; “Well this should be good; speak!”

“I was working on him when he just wakes up
and grabs my throat. I nearly passed out and he only let go when I stuck him in
the shoulder.”

“But…three, four…five times? You couldn’t
have just stuck him once and been done with it?”

“Sorry if I lost count while I was blacking
out. I just did what I had to do to stay alive.” I reply.

“Perhaps you should steer clear of sharp
objects for a while…” He says, giving me a reproachful look. Then after a
moment. “Why don’t you wheel him to x-ray? That is if you can refrain from
turning him into your personal pin cushion again, that is.”

I refuse to answer that one. Instead I just
wheel the gurney over to the table and together we slide Adam across. Five
minutes later we’re in the x-ray lab getting his pictures taken.

Lucky for Adam, none of the wounds affected
his lungs or any vital organs. He lost enough blood that he’ll need a
transfusion and he’s going to have quite a collection of stitches by the time
he leaves the ER.

By the time I finish closing the last wound
it’s nearly four in the morning. What a bizarre night! Finally I get around to
asking the questions that have been plaguing me since the first biker was
wheeled into our department.

“Who were you guys fighting last night?” I
ask. “Was it the Cycle Demons again?”

He shakes his head. “You know how sometimes
you can be your own worst enemy?” He begins. “Well, tonight we really are.”

“What do you mean?”

“We…as in Sons of Ash. There’s some serious
shit going down and you’re probably gonna be seeing more of us before the
weekend is over.”

“I don’t get it?”

“Neither does he,” says a voice behind me.

Never in all my years of being around the
biker element, have I heard a more evil, menacing voice than the one right
behind me. Immediately the color drains from my face and my breath catches in
my throat. I want to turn around and face whoever it is behind me, but I am
terrified of what I will see.

“It’s okay, turn around honey. My fight’s
not with you.”

It’s like one of those nightmares I used to
have where everyone is moving normal speed but my own feet seem to be mired in
molasses. It feels like takes me a full minute to turn around and when I do I
wish I really hadn’t.

Towering over me is the evilest looking,
tallest biker I have ever had the misfortune of standing next to. The word
Vampire immediately springs to mind; but not the type that is so often
romanticized in movies and television. I’m talking about someone who is
completely void of all humanity; at least any of humanities redeeming
qualities. This is a creature that should have been banished to hell; not
standing in my ER. There is no way this is not going to end badly!

I open my mouth to give him a piece of my
mind but nothing comes out. In my mind I have this whole speech prepared that
is sure to have him shaking in his motorcycle boots; a kind different take on
the scorn of a woman and all but I just can’t make it come out. The only thing
that finally issues from my mouth is a couple squeaks and the sound of my teeth
rattling as my whole body begins to shake in terror.

“This isn’t the place Ripper,” Adam says
behind me.

Ripper is a very fitting name.

“Oh I think this is the perfect place,” the
spawn of Satan hisses.

As the two bikers regard each other I dare
hazard a look at the menacing biker before me. He’s at least six and a half
feet tall and is built for destruction. He’s wearing a black sleeveless tee and
a black leather vest (cut) bearing the three piece patch of the Sons of Ash. He
also has another patch that announces to the world that he is the president of
the Sons as well. There’s a tattoo on the inside of his right arm of a knife
with a long wicked looking blade. On the blade is rows of hash marks, and if
memory serves me correctly, those are his count of the people he has killed in
his lifetime. That makes this guy one hell of an accomplished serial killer.
Depictions of death and mayhem decorate the man’s arms and on the side of his
shaved head.

His eyes are a steely soulless gray and
they are so intent with hatred it’s unbearable to look into them. Instead I
settle on his mouth. He’s got an ugly scar just below his chin that curves up
along his right cheek and to the corner of his eye. Somebody laid him open like
a fish fillet. I can barely breathe. It’s like his very presence just sucks the
life out of the room. How’d this guy get past the security guards anyway?

I hear a sound behind me and its Adam
swinging his legs down over the side of the table so that he is in a sitting
position. He should not be even siting up given how much blood he’s lost.

Slowly he slips off the table and his right
hand reaches instinctively for his knife. When he realizes he doesn’t have it
he swears under his breath.

“Missing something brother?” Satan asks.

“Guess I’ll have to gut you with my bare
hands.” Adam replies.

“How could you give up your weapon
and
your cut? How pathetic?”

Adam looks around. He kinda looks naked.
Not because he’s only wearing his jeans, but because he doesn’t have either his
leather jacket or his vest.

I finally find my voice and a smidgeon of
pluck. “Look…Ripper, are you really going to attack a man who has just lost so
much blood his head is spinning? He’s in no shape to fight. It’ll be like
stepping into the ring with a child. Where I ask you, is the honor in that?”

“I couldn’t give a fuck about honor missy.
Now are you going to stand here in the way and get gutted yourself or are you
going to step aside and let us work this out ourselves?”

“You’re in my ER,” I reply. “That means
he’s under my protection whether I like it or not and I am bound by a code of
ethics to defend him even to my death. So if you really are that big of a pussy
then take your best shot!”

I can’t believe I just said that. I just
told off the spawn of Satan… or more like the devil himself. He dashes all my
hopes of shaming him into non action when he slips a long evil looking knife
out of his boot. Then he does the unthinkable. He licks the edge of the blade
so that it opens up a cut along the flat of his tongue. When he licks his lips
his teeth and mouth are partially covered with blood; gross! That had to hurt,
but his eyes don’t register anything. They just bore into my soul I get the
feeling he thinks he can pierce or even remove my soul with his stare. I can
feel it too. Maybe it’s just fear but I can feel this alien presence rooting
around, poking at my resolve and I feel like if I were a weaker person he
actually could influence me; in a very bad way.

He really does look like a vampire now with
his bloody teeth and blood smeared blade. I can’t help but wonder what it’ll
look like with my blood dripping down that cold steel edge and onto the white
tile floor.

He takes a step towards me and my mind
suddenly drifts back to my Kung Fu training I received after I fled from my ex.
I was terrified for my life and sought out what was widely considered the most
effective self-defense school in the area. But no matter how far I progressed I
always wondered if I could really defend myself. I guess I’m about to find out.

Ripper holds his bloodied knife in front of
himself with the point angled in my direction. I watched, mesmerized as a drop
of his own blood trails down the razor sharp edge before falling to the floor.
The second it hits the floor with a bright red splash on the white polished
tiles my muscles spring into action. I fire a snapping kick right between his
legs. I pause for a second, waiting for him to become a wobbling mass of jelly
before dropping to the floor in agony but none of that happens. His eyes dilate
for the briefest second before he lashes out with his blade. Without even
thinking I slap away a thrust that would have skewered a pig and counter with
fingers to the eyes in a downward clawing action; much like a tiger strike.
It’s supposed to be the surefire kung fu method of blinding your opponent.
Because you’re just clawing with your four fingers and thumb you don’t have to
be super accurate like if you are just trying to stick your index finger is
someone’s eye. You just need to get your ‘claws’ in the general vicinity to
make the attack work. Unfortunately my attack amounts to no more than four
embarrassing claw marks down his cheeks.

His face is a mask of rage as it registers
what I just did to him. It’s not the kick in the balls either, it’s the nail
marks down his face; that’s what pisses him off. I can’t imagine how a man
already that ugly could be concerned with how his face looks.

“You fucking whore!” He rages.

I take another step backwards and he follows.
Behind him Adam is finding his strength and slips off the table. I’m not sure
he’s going to fare any better than me in his current blood drained state. I can
see him scanning the room with his eyes looking for anything that can be used
as a weapon; he settles on the instrument tray alongside the table he was just
lying on. He grabs it, spilling a dozen shiny metal implements onto the floor.
Ripper turns around brandishing his knife against the new ‘threat’.

It’s enough of an opening for me. I stomp
down on the back of his knee driving it down onto the tile floor with an
audible smack. Almost immediately following, Adam smashes the tray on top of
Ripper’s head. The combination of me destroying his knee and his braining from
Adam would have put anyone down; but not Ripper apparently. The man is an
animal. He staggers to his feet, sidesteps Adam and charges for the door. About
the same time he reaches the door a lone security guard appears; just in time
to be bowled over as Ripper lowers his head striking the other man in the
stomach. As the guard falls Ripper leaps over the man’s outstretched arms and
sprints down the hall towards the ER entrance. He is gone into the early
morning darkness before anyone can catch up to him. I hear the distant rumble of
his Harley as he speeds away to safety. There’s one biker I may end up getting
to know real well before this is all figured out. 

Adam agrees to stay put in the ER until he
has rested some and then promises to tell me what is going on and why the
President of his MC is out for blood; his blood. I always thought motorcycle
clubs were supposed to be this big happy family but it seems they are more like
one big not so happy dysfunctional family. I can’t wait to see what kind of
spin he’s going to put on what just happened.

He actually dozes off and it’s nearly
eight-thirty before I finally get to call it a night. We decide to retire to my
place to play catch-up. No way am I going to go to his place with all the biker
civil war and all going on. Not that I’m all that keen on having him in my
house either but given his current physical state I’m pretty sure I can kick
his ass if he gets out of line. But to be sure I let him know what’ll happen if
he pisses me off.

“I get it, I get it, he complains as he
sits on one end of my couch. “One wrong move and you Kung Fu my ass.”

“Good, I just don’t want a bunch of whining
about why when I’m kicking your ass. You piss me off and you pay the
consequences.”

“If I wasn’t on death’s door,” he begins.
“I could-”

“Wow, this is going to be a really short
talk,” I reply interrupting him.

“Sorry…listening now.”

“Good. Now why is your president after you
and why has my ER suddenly become your club’s home away from home?”

Adam takes a deep breath, then begins
speaking.

“First of all Kari,” I am very sorry you
have gotten mixed up in this. I didn-”

“You’re such a liar,” I proclaim,
interrupting him. “If I wasn’t mixed up in this we’d have never gotten to know
each other and you don’t want that. So, let’s try again, but with a little
honesty thrown into the mix okay?”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I have grown up in
and around the club. I was pretty much a member by default long before I was
jumped in when I was seventeen years old. Since then I have worked my way up
through club hierarchy to my current position as VP; a title I have held for
two years now. Last year the Latin MS 13 from El Salvador begin moving in on
our territory but we didn’t protest as they’re not a motorcycle club and their
interests have never collided with ours. I didn’t know it then, but their whole
plan was to use a local club to spread their drug trade by co-opting our guys
to be used to sell their drugs and Ripper was all too happy to provide the gang
with its much needed foot soldiers. It’s insulting really. Half those MS 13
guys are still in their teens.”

When we first sat down to talk he was
perched on the end of my couch and I took a chair keeping the coffee table
between us. Ten minutes later and I’m on the couch leaning towards him as is
speaking. I just can’t help it. He’s got this way about him. Every time I get
even the smallest whiff of him and my body just responds. I feel like a cat
when she would go into heat before I had her fixed. I’m starting to think I
need to be fixed! The second a male cat gets in the same room as my Chrissy and
she literally rolls over and spreads her feline legs. I look away from Adam’s
handsome face and squeeze my knees together.  I will not behave like my
cat!

Adam is still going on, oblivious to the
effect he’s having on me. “I have seen what drugs can do to a community,” he is
saying. “I have also seen what it does to families and I want no part of it. I
will not be responsible for destroying Cave Junction. Some of my brothers are
with me but too many have been swayed by wads of cash the Latin gang keeps
flashing around. It makes perfect sense really. This community is struggling.
Most people are barely surviving, living hand to mouth and most of my brothers
are not well educated and barely have the means to support themselves and their
own families. When someone swoops in offering them more money a month than they
can make in years of legitimate work they are all too happy to make a grab for
the easy money.”

Without realizing it I have scooted myself
half way across my couch and am about two feet from our knees knocking together. 
With each breath I take I feel like I am inhaling a little bit of him and with
each sweet breath I find my resolve weakening. I’m finding it harder and harder
to lump Adam in with my ex and every other biker I have known over the years.
That little voice deep down inside of me that used to whisper that Adam is
different has gone from a barely audible sound to a roar that at times drowns
out everything else. I can resist a whisper; but a roar?

“I want our club to go legit!” Adam
proclaims.

“What? A-aren’t y-you guys supposed to b-be
an outlaw club?” I stammer, trying to wrap my mind around what he is telling
me. “I mean, you have the diamond patch (The Diamond 1%’er patch signifies that
the wearer is a part of the 1% of outlaw clubs rather than the 99% law abiding
clubs). You carry a knife and I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you with a gun too. You
can’t just go against who you are.”

“Wow,” he begins. “You’re starting to sound
a lot like Ripper. Well, Ripper minus the four letter words Ripper. Yeah we’d
be the only MC in history to go from a criminal enterprise to a legit one, I
get it. I also understand that every club that has tried has eventually
collapsed; imploded is more like it. But I’m college educated. I know a lot
more than just how to fix and build bikes. I know how to run a business and I
intend to do just that. I just have to survive the initial knee-jerk reaction
by my club.”

I don’t know what to think. Adam is
breaking the mold when it comes to outlaw bikers and I like it. I was finding
him hard enough to resist when I thought he was just the biker version of that
scallywag pirate Jack Sparrow in those pirate movies. I remember in that first
Pirates of the Caribbean movie when I thought Jack was this handsome, but
flawed pirate before he got in the moonlight and suddenly his true self is
exposed as an undead skeleton pirate. Adam is in the process of doing just the
opposite in my mind. It’s like I’ve been watching his handsome skeleton that
has suddenly come into the light and he’s actually a normal even better looking
man. How am I supposed to resist now?

Adam’s knee rubbing up against mine sends
sweet sparks of pleasure up my leg and right into my, no admittance to
pirate/bikers, private area. I squeeze my legs even tighter together, prompting
Adam to ask;

“Are you okay? You seem awfully tightly
wound this morning.”

His voice is beginning to melt me. I try to
focus on something bad. There has to be something about him that disgusts me.
If I can just concentrate on that I’ll be fine.

He touches my knee with his finger tips and
it sends goose bumps up and down my spine. How can a man like him provoke such
a carnal response in my body? All at once his words are tuned out and I find
myself wondering what it would feel like if those fingers of his kept moving up
my leg to my panties and beyond. I take a deep breath and my knees begin to
separate; just a teensy little bit. Adam must sense my barriers are coming down
because he is pressing his luck. He stops talking. He has altogether ceased trying
to convince me of his impending sainthood and now just wants to get into my
panties; and I think I want him there as well.

“Kari…if you don-”

“Shut-”

“Want-”

“Up. Just shut up.”

“I just want to make sure you want this,”
Adam continues.

“Well I’m not going to if you keep on your
babbling, now am I? You’ve done your politically correct making sure you’re not
forcing yourself on me and that I really am consenting to this unholy union so
just zip it because your window of opportunity is rapidly closing.”

The way his mouth opens and closes with a
loud snap of his teeth is comical, but my laugh catches in my throat as his
hand slips beneath my short skirt and begins to work its way to the edge of my
panties. His other hand touches my cheek, caresses my face and makes me yearn
for him like I have never wanted to be touched before. His fingers leave
pleasant buzzing trails wherever he makes contact. It’s like my skin has been
this dead, dry hide and his touch is waking me up for the first time and it’s
delicious.

But he’s taking too much time!

I can’t stand it any longer. I grab the
hand on my face and relocate it to a much more desirable piece of real estate;
my boob. All at once everything changes. It’s like he was this dragster on a
track just waiting for that red light to go green, and when it did he blasts
off in a heady explosion of lust. His hands are everywhere at once and it
feels  like there are more than one of him on the couch with me. My whole
body is alive with sensation and Adam is touching me in all the right places at
the right time; like he’s known me for years or something. There’s none of the
awkward touch and go exploring that usually makes up a couple’s first
lovemaking session. That can be nice, that first exploration and all, but
sometimes you just need to be fucked hard and put away wet!

We get naked in record time! My panties fly
into the ceiling fan then get launched to who knows where and I belatedly
wonder at the wisdom of giving my best friend the key to my apartment. Somewhere
in the back of my mind I have this feeling that this is the weekend that she
stays with me while her place gets bug-bombed.

Yup, that explains the presence of the
third person in the room. I look over Adams shoulder and there’s my younger
sister Anna standing there with her hand over her eyes. While she is faithfully
demonstrating her resolve not to look, her fingers part just enough so I can
see a sparklingly bright green eye peeking back at me.

“Stop!” I shout at my intrusive younger
sister.

“Right now? You have got to be kidding me!”
Adam replies, freezing mid-thrust.

“Not you.” I reply.

“Not me? Who…you?” He asks, thoroughly
confused.

“Not me, her.” I reply, pointing over his
shoulder to Anna who is still peeking.

Adam twists around and looks back over his
shoulder. “That’s not your sister watching us is it?” He asks.

“Would it make any difference?”

“It’d be hotter…”

“What?” I holler as I slap him on his
delectable ass.

“Kidding…I was totally kidding. But who is
that anyway?” He asks as he fishes around for something to cover himself with.
He settles on a pillow.

I look at Anna who is finally looking away.
“You think we could have some privacy?” I ask.

She huffs. “Do you not see me looking in
the other direction?”

“Yeah, we’re going to need a little more
than that. Why don’t you make some coffee or something and I’ll join you in the
kitchen in a minute?”

“Boring…”

“Anna!”

“Fine, I’m going I’m going.” She replies,
peeking again.

Suddenly I hear another voice. “Ms. Hoffman…are
you home?” I recognize that voice. It’s the newspaper delivery boy.

I raise myself up enough to peer over the
back of my couch and standing in the open doorway is ten year old Glenn from
down the street and he has no doubt come to collect this month’s dues.

I focus my evil eye on my
former
sister. “Oh come on, I know
you
weren’t born in a barn. Is it too much
to ask to close the front door behind you?”

“Now that would have been rude with him
standing here and all.” Anna replies.

“So you chose traumatizing instead of
rudeness for his lesson of the day?”

“And how was I supposed to know you’d be on
the couch making babies on the morning I’m coming over?”

“You got married?” Asks Glenn from my still
open door.

“You don’t have to be married to make babies.”
Anna explains.

“So they’re just practicing then?” He asks.

“The door!” I shout. “Could someone please
shut my front door?”

“Always with the door,” Anna says. “Come on
in Glenn so I can shut her precious door.”

“With him on the
other
side Anna!” I
shout.

“Sorry honey, guess you’ll have to collect
tomorrow.” Anna finally says the first sensible thing she’s said since she came
in.