Final Ride: Hellions Motorcycle Club (Hellions Ride Book 9) (3 page)

Numb. Even as the wind whips against my face and the rumble of the bike assaults my ears, I am numb. Everything inside me is slowly shutting down. I am as dead inside as my mother is in our house.

My heart beats frantically, my skin feels like I’m covered in a fine sheen of sweat, yet I’m cold on the inside and out. I feel like my head may explode from everything I’m trying to process.

No matter the rights or the wrongs of the past, Fury MC took my mother from me before I was born, and they took her body from me today. The only glimpse I ever had to the woman inside was when Vic and the club stayed away for more than a week. It was like she relaxed and could pretend like we weren’t tangled up in their messes. As soon as any one of them showed a sign of Fury having the power over her, over me, she went cycling, spinning down the rabbit hole of darkness, and I always wondered: When the day came when she couldn’t find her way out, what would happen to me?

Can the Hellions MC be any worse? Can this be my chance at something new?

A fresh start may be exactly what I need.

The ride is a blur as my mind races with thoughts of staying with the strangers or simply finding my own way out without anyone’s help. Then we pull up to what looks like someone’s bike shop, and I don’t even think about how we got here or where we may be.

When Frisco pulls to a stop, I jump off from behind him as if the bike were searing me. Physically, though, I’m not burned. It’s emotionally. There, cut to the core—I am an inferno blazing from the inside out, scarred for life.

My head pounds as my emotions run wild. I’m a twisted mess of loyalty, betrayal, truth, and lies.

I watch Frisco lift the third rail of the porch to release a hidden key. Then I follow silently as he leads us inside a space he obviously has been to before.

The air is musty. Looking around, I take the space in. It’s a crash pad of sorts. A simple loft with a kitchenette, a queen bed, and a sofa. There isn’t much in the way of privacy with a tri-fold screen being the only thing to separate the toilet and shower from the rest of the space.

What have I gotten myself into?

Will I be safe here?

I want to cry, scream, crawl into a corner, and then be silent, rocking myself like an insane person, which is exactly how I feel right now.

I can’t decide if I should find elation in my chance to have a new beginning, or if I should be fearful of what hell I’m walking into. How did I wake up this morning as if it were every other day, and in the span of a few hours, my whole world is turned upside down?

Is Vic looking for me? Are they coming after me? Will I get taken back and locked down for knowing too much?

Fear hits me like it never has before.

This is a mess.

Last year, one of my teachers went on and on about our futures, and that being afraid of the unknown was healthy. It’s what drives our human instinct to go into fight or flight mode. We fear the things we can’t see, touch, feel, or explain. We fear what we don’t know, comprehend, or haven’t experienced. I don’t think this is what she was talking about with my future, yet here I am.

I should be afraid, and I am to some degree. Currently, though, I find myself curious more than anything.

Time to face some facts. He looks like me. Richard “Frisco” Billings could be my father. My mother never knew, but I heard the guys whispering about it when I was little. Vic always said I was his trophy from the Hellions. I never understood what that meant, but looking at the eyes that are so like my own, I can’t help wondering …

I may have been raised Fury, but it seems I was born a Hellion.

Regardless, I feel at a disadvantage. I don’t know this man. I don’t know his club. More than anything, I don’t know how to read him or my situation. Yet, there is a longing for me to know what he is like, what similarities we share. There is a wonder inside me, curious to know what my mother was like when she was in love with someone, not simply obligated to them by actions of her past.

And this man did affect my mother. There were times when I was little when she would scream at Vic that he wasn’t the man Frisco was. She longed to have her life back with this man—she told me so more than once. There is something in him that cut her deeply. There was a passion, an emotion. Maybe even, dare I say, love they once shared that changed her.

My mother is—or, I should say, was—far from a saint, but she was my mother. She also never let any of the bad touch me. No matter how hard Vic tried to pull me into the club, she fought to keep it to a minimum. No matter the beatings, the threats, or what she had to give him or do for him to keep me away from his lifestyle, she did her best. Compromises, yes. She gave in to a ride, sometimes into the fold. It was always at a minimum, though. Now, I see that she held me back when she could.

If I was in the fold with the club, I would have expected Snake and Gomer today. It’s obvious, as much time as I was around Fury and Vic, I wasn’t privy to everything.

So many things that I wondered all along are suddenly so clear. Yet, just like my emotions, everything is a tangled mess of confusion and contradiction.

The ping of Frisco’s phone has me watching him. Whatever he reads has his face contorting in some unknown emotion. Then he watches me.

The man with a salt and pepper goatee that matches his short, slicked back hair, with his golden skin tanned from hours exposed to the sun looks younger than what I know his age to be. He could easily wear a suit and fit into the business world with the way he carries himself.

My mother once told me he was named Frisco because he was the California kid, hailing from San Francisco. I can’t help wondering what brought him to be a gypsy of sorts. What led the California kid to settle in North Carolina? What led the wanderer to commit to the brotherhood of the Hellions MC? The question I really want answered, though, even if I’m afraid to ask it, is: What’s the history with my dad? Well, I should say Paul “Vic” Victory Shannon Watson that made Frisco his target?

I know, from learning over the years, that Paul’s kryptonite is the Hellions MC. Anytime anyone wanted a rise out of him, all they had to do was mention Roundman and the Hellions. It was almost as if, every time I came around, I was a reminder of them. Someone would see me and mention the Hellions or North Carolina just to throw it in Vic’s face. Now I think I can sort out why.

But how does Frisco play into that?

Will he hurt me just to bring pain to Vic? The little bit of chatter I have overheard is that the Hellions don’t involve women and children in their business. Despite this, will I become a pawn in some war between the two rivals? Does he even care that I’m his own flesh and blood?

I know about club life. I know all too well that brotherhood is above all else, including blood.

My head pounds as my thoughts continue to race in circles. Finally, I decide I need to speak, if for nothing else than to find some sort of shared, solid ground between us.

“Frisco?” I ask softly, watching his reaction.

“Yeah?” he responds, his eyes meeting mine before quickly dropping his stare.

Fear grips me. It takes a stronghold around my throat. Still, I must press on. He should know that my mom only wanted to protect me. If she had told Vic the truth, I would be dead, and she would have met the same fate sooner.

“Mom … Well … She didn’t mean to do it.”

“What do you know?” He raises an eyebrow at me, studying me as hard as I was previously studying him.

Moving to the couch, I drop haphazardly onto the worn cushions, feeling the weight of the past crushing me. I feel the burden of knowing too much hold on to me as tightly as the fear of what my future may be. Dizziness swirls in my mind like a tornado as I try to figure out what to tell him.

“More than I should,” I huff out. “Looking at you, it’s obvious my dad isn’t my dad. Thinking about it now, he had a plan for me.” I let the memories wash over me. Funny how something happens, and then suddenly everything you thought you knew shows itself in a whole new light. “Things he said over the years … He was buying time, and then he was going to show me to you, I suppose. He would always tell Mom that the day would come when he would proudly have me on display, like his trophy from the Hellions.”

It’s crazy to think on it now. I used to feel like he was proud of me when he called me his trophy. Now, my stomach twists painfully as the reality washes over me of what that truly meant.

Frisco nods. “I know it’s not easy, but … can you tell me more?”

Loyalty. Betrayal. The lines between the two are a blur.

Do I give my loyalty to the man whose blood pumps through my veins? Do I tell him what I know? How much do I share before I betray the man and the club who are all I have known?

“I know my mom was with him when she was young. She was, like, fourteen-ish when she met him. He was down here on vacation, visiting his uncle Cheeks, who was in Fury. He went back to North Carolina because that’s where he lived. Then Mom said he suddenly lived here and was trying to patch into the club. She said she thought the life on the edge was exciting and fell hopelessly in love with him. Then Paul Watson was no more, and in his place was ‘Victory,’ or Vic, as the guys in the club called him. He was consumed by some club called the Hellions, which I see now are you guys.”

“Did your mom tell you about us?”

I shake my head, emotions bombarding me. “Not your club, but you. I know about you. Vic thought you were his way in. Mom said she met you, and the more she fought to do what Vic wanted her to do, the more she found herself loving you.” Tears fall down my face. “I know you won’t believe me, but I don’t think my mom intended to hurt you like she did. If you knew Vic, you would know she had to do what he wanted.”

Frisco paces the small space, back and forth, back and forth. Meanwhile, my emotions wreak havoc on my soul, thinking about how my mother once loved him, but she couldn’t get out of the mess she was already in. I do know that to the very depths of my heart.

“Mom said she spent a few years in North Carolina with you. In fact, she always promised me she would take me there one day so I could see the peaceful, quiet areas without all the hustle and bustle. She said she reached a point where she was broken up inside, and you walked away for her to be free. Knowing she couldn’t stay in the area and see you move on, she came back to Florida,” I explain, not knowing why it’s important to me that he understand her frame of mind.

At my pause, he looks straight into my eyes, and I try to hide my insecurities, masking my fear as the memories of her telling me invade.

“Go on,” he encourages. “What’s got you upset?”

How much does he know about my mom and her past? Should I tell him?

“She said she first came back to Florida because it was home, but she tried to break up with my dad—I mean Vic,” I stumble, wondering if I can get used to this change. “He wouldn’t have any part of it, even though he was never faithful to Mom. I’ve seen more whores in and out of his room than I thought one man could handle.” I blow out a breath as the guilt hits home. “It was me. She was pregnant with me.

“She always told me how hard she found it to give me a different life. For me, she married him. She would have stayed, but he got tired of her spells. He sent her away, kicking her out of their house. He moved into the clubhouse and set us up down the road in the house you found us in. The unknown of when she would have another spell … I guess it was too much for him.”

“Spells?” he asks.

I hate having to explain this part. She didn’t mean to get sucked under. My mother had a heart of gold. She just couldn’t fight back the darkness sometimes.”

I watch him intently as my instincts to defend my mother kick in. “Depression. The doctor said it was a severe form of depression. Mom said it was heartbreak and guilt because she deserved the pain. Either way, she had spells where she would cut herself, like, all over and just lie there bleeding. She never cut deep enough to bleed out like suicide, but enough to hurt herself.”

“I’m sorry you went through all that, Shannon,” he says sadly, pityingly.

I don’t want his pity.

“She had a good heart, Frisco,” I try to justify. “She just didn’t know how to handle things. Vic is a mean bastard of a man, yet she made the best of things.” I look up into his dark eyes and find myself needing him to forgive her, to understand her. “Please don’t hate her.”

He shakes his head as I study him. He seems to be fighting some internal battle. Well, he’s not alone. I’m fighting an internal battle, too.

What is right, and what is wrong anymore? Who is the good guy, and who is the bad? Are the Hellions any better than Fury?

Everything my mother did was for me. Even in the depths of her internal hell, she loved me deeply. She loved the man in front of me deeply, too. He needs to know that. He needs to grasp that she felt she had no choice.

“Frisco, she really did care about you. She was in a mess that was bigger than you or I could ever understand. I’ll go with you. I’ll go to North Carolina. Just please don’t hate my mom. She could have left me in that club with the whores, but she didn’t. She had her spells, but never when I was around,” I lie. I was always around. In fact, there is a piece of me that almost finds relief that I won’t go through another spell. I won’t tell him that. “She always took care of me. She was a good mom. I can’t go with you, knowing you hate her, when she’s all I ever had.”