FOUND: A Motorcycle Club Romance Novel (21 page)

Boyd gave me a look. “Hell, what did happen to it Cassie?”

I mouthed a
sorry
to him. “I think it's still eating at the Denny's in Baker.”

Anton cracked a smile. One which completely changed the shape of his face. “You can switch Lemon's for yours there. We can get his crotch rocket later. I'll tell Tiny he's got a hog partner.”

“Thanks old man.” Boyd patted his vice president's back.

“Anytime, kid.” Anton left us and walked to the others. A loud '
fuck'
exploded from Tiny when he got the news of having to share his Harley. I guess bikers don't like sharing.

“Why did you call him old man?” I asked Boyd curiously.

“Anton? Since dad died he's been like a father to me. I do it out of respect. And he deserves it... But, come on, let's get on the bike and head out. We can have a real talk back in Midnight.”

As we made our way to Lemon's bike, the others – two inside Jerome's Escalade, the others still on their bikes – were getting ready to take off into Death Valley.

Boyd stopped in front of Anton. “Got enough petrol to burn the house down?”

“Of course!” Tiny broke in by kick starting his engine. “I can play with the wiring a little and start an electrical fire. Easy.”

“We'll see, we'll see. You talk about being a genius with electronics, but this bald head has never seen it,” commented Anton with a friendly challenge. “Now get moving you all... Think you're outlaws? I bet you can't even keep up with an old bastard like me! We've got to torch that motherfucker! Get moving!”

Tiny raced off out into the desert behind him setting off a chain reaction of air horns into the night. He shouted back, 'don't do anything I wouldn't do!'

I laughed. Out here might have been one of the most peaceful places on earth, but even a handful of raucous bikers was enough to shatter all the quiet.

“What type of bike is this?” I asked when wrapping my arms around Boyd's waist.

“It's a Street. More of a city bike than mine. My girl's meant for touring.”

“Girl? She got a name?”

Boyd cut me a look. “Yeah.
Princess
.”

“You got a reason for naming her that?”

“Yeah, but I'll tell you later...”

With me holding snug, Boyd and I rode off into the darkness of the desert path and back towards civilization.

Behind us, a few miles up, we noticed a faint red glow in the distant sky. Jerome's car was burning... and my past with it.

~ Chapter Twenty Two ~

An extract from Boyd's diary:

It has been six weeks since Cassie came back into my life. And it's how life goes sometimes. When you've nearly forgotten someone, that's the second they return.

A blast from the past
.

I guess I know now where the saying comes from.

She didn't return under ideal circumstances, but - then again –
what is ideal
?

Nothing about my life is ideal. I'm an outlaw biker living a path that's beyond the realm of most men. Every day is a fight. Every week a struggle. Every year a war.

Nevertheless, it's a way of life which chose me from the very start. Out of the womb there is nothing else I could have been. Fate decided that for me.

We saw each other last when we were kids, yet our lives have taken us down mirrored paths. She and I have experienced loss, and lived through some fucked up times.

My father died of a heart attack.

Well, let me be honest, that's what I tell those that aren't brothers in this world of tragedy. The reality is much different.

He died. Shot in the back by a corrupt cop in a meet turned bad. Murdered down a dark street and left bleeding by his Harley. Alone. In a bad part of town.

Want to hear life's sick joke?

The worst part is all this happened the night before my twenty-first birthday. At sunrise, during what should have been one of the happiest dates in a man's life, I burnt rubber to the morgue.

It was no way to go for a man who raised me as good as he did. And the image of him lying there cold, a thin black sheet covering him, is what powers me on in any time of hardship. Dad taught me well enough to use memories such as these as fuel.

But I got my revenge. The club, my brothers in arms, saw to that. They went to war and corralled the cop. I got a call the next night on the day of my twenty first birthday - one I spent locked up in a dark room, emotionally broken, trying to out drink the tears. Tiny told me they had him tied up in a warehouse. I got there to find whole the Denver chapter of the Sinners all waiting for me.

I remember the look in Anton's eye when he handed me the shotgun. He stared at me distraught with an inhuman gaze. A gaze that must be what a human looks like when his soul has been torn out. Brotherhood is a powerful thing, especially on this road. He and my father went back all the way to kindergarten and would have died a thousand times over for each other. Anton wanted to do the deed himself, but he understood it was my place.

The cop – his name isn't important – sat tied to a seat with duct tape around his mouth. Real
Reservoir Dogs
. The only difference is this time the psycho was in the chair. All of the MC waited patiently, standing behind me and watching for what had to be done.

His eyes pleaded with me not to shoot and he shook violently in the chair when I loaded both cartridges into the gun.

I couldn't help but think, did he feel this when he shot my old man?

Both my hands shook when I raised the weapon. I had never killed a man before. Damn, I hadn't even raised a gun to a man before. It was so alien. But, as the angry bile raised and twisted in my stomach, I understood that a man has to do things in life that sometimes pain him. That's what being a man is. It's what my dad taught me.

He used to say. '
Treat people as they treat you: Hate for hate. Smile for smile. Love for love. And blood for blood
.' Only when you get older do you understand the significance of mere words. I've had those words tattooed since on my chest to always remind me. I view it as a blood oath to this memory.

I pulled the trigger and did what had to be done. The cop took both barrels and vengeance was given her reward. By killing him my old man didn't die in vain. On the day the world tells you you're a man at twenty-one, I ended a human life the same night.

Blood for blood.

Cassie didn't get her revenge on her parents, but her loss was as real - and she experienced it before anyone should. No one should see both parents die when they're barely out of childhood. Especially in a way that was so abrupt and total. Yet those are the cards she was dealt and the ones she must play.

Of course, the one true thing about life is that it's brutal. Brutal in ways most will never imagine or comprehend.

Yet, without darkness there wouldn't be the possibility of light.

Cassie flew back into my world with a broken wing. Injured by the actions of others and struggling to exist. But she's wise. Wise beyond her years and ready to overcome. I can sense already that she may have gone through hell, more than most could tolerate, though she hasn't let the the damage destroy her. She might not know it now, but one day she will understand that times of suffering breed resilience and add to your strength.

As I sit here and write this, six weeks after Cassie appeared out of my past and through the doors of the clubhouse, things have changed.

I rode us back from Death Valley to Midnight, her fingers locked around my chest the entire way. Never breaking. Never
thinking
of breaking.

When I was a youngster, she meant a lot to me. Even as an adult, when those earlier times in Midnight seemed so distant, she played on in my thoughts. If you asked me about her this time last year, the corners of my lips would have raised and I would have cockily told you I thought of her because '
she was the one who got away
'. It would sound convincing and next to everyone who heard it would believe me.

Nevertheless, deep down, I would have been lying.

Cassie meant a lot to me then and the separation of all these years didn't fade the feeling.

From the second I opened the doors to the empty clubhouse on that late night, she fell into my arms. Together at last.

We've been inseparable since. We're the same people we were during those innocent childhood years. Meeting her again has made me realize this.

One truth every single person on this planet must learn is that each time you give up your heart to someone it is a risk. Your heart is a precious object, more precious than any diamond or bar of gold, but it's one object that is easily snatched and totaled. It's more beautiful than anything, yet it's one of the only beautiful things we take for granted. Almost like a kid's favorite toy that, after a day of excited play, is left out in the yard forgotten with the rain pouring all over it.

Love is a dangerous game.
The most dangerous game
. But to play it we all have to roll the dice. If we didn't, life wouldn't be worth living.

At the end of the day, we all have to risk giving in to love's magic in order to become complete. And those unwilling? If you keep your heart in a box and never reveal it to anyone, you will wither away and die.

Since I took over the Midnight chapter of the Sinners, this outlaw world has taken me down some bumpy roads. It's been my obsession and the fire lighting my passions. My world and my everything. Important things like security, everyday pleasures and love were put on complete hold in the pursuit of my goals. All that mattered was club, brotherhood and success.

Until now...

Tomorrow Cassie and I are moving out of the bedroom in the clubhouse and into a place of our own. I'm renting a big house in a good part of town right around the corner of where we both grew up.

The past weeks have been the happiest time I've known in a long time. It has been the same for her and we're both now looking to the future... in the knowledge that we have both found each other.

Found
...
together
.

~ THE END ~

Author's Note:

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