The Biker's Past: A Cold Steel Motorcycle Club Romance Novella (2 page)

“
Get in the house, Samantha,” Dad said, not taking his eyes off Boon, who was gently pushing me away.

“
Do what he says,” Boon said to me, under his breath. I could feel his heart pounding against my back as I stood between him and my father.

“
Dad, you stop this right now. This is my friend, Boon, and whatever you think…”

“
Samantha, I’m going to tell you one more time, get in the house,” Dad said, his voice increasing in fury with each word. My mother was hopping around in a frenzy, unsure of whether to try and calm Dad down or swoop in and yank me away. I could see terror in her eyes, and knew it was reflected in my own. Dad could be strict but this was…well, it was unusual, to say the least.

“
Tell me your last name, kid,” he repeated, menacing.

“
Culver,” Boon said from behind me, his voice betraying no trace of anxiety or pressure. He finally reached out and physically pushed me to the side, breaking eye contact with my father to look at me.

“
Get inside, Samantha. I don’t want you seeing whatever this is going to turn into,” Boon said. His voice made my heart freeze. He sounded like a man who was used to doing what needed to be done. Dirty things. Things that you wouldn’t want your kids to know about. He sounded, for the first time since I’d met him, like a scary biker. It was so different from the bemused, inquisitive, clever guy I’d hit it off with. I was sobbing by then, unaware of anything but the barrel of the gun, Boon’s wide, cold eyes, my father’s anger like a physical force.

Boon suddenly softened, his face seeming to melt into pleading. He reached out for me.

“
Don’t fucking move,” Dad cried out. I could see the situation was beginning to wear on him, could see his hands shaking as he held the gun. Ignoring him, I took Boon’s hand. He slipped something into my palm. Then he dropped his gaze, turning back to my father.

“
My last name is Culver, sir. My father is Tank Culver. Of the Cold Steel Motorcycle Club,” he said, swallowing hard but not giving up the staring contest. My mother rushed to me, and I folded into her arms, wanting her comfort.

“
Daddy, please,” I managed to cry as my mother struggled to corral me away from the scene.

“
Do you love him, Samantha?” My father suddenly asked, not turning his attention (or gun) away from Boon. His voice, though, was softer, almost as though he was anticipating my answer, and was already disappointed in me. I guessed he had seen everything he thought he needed to see in that first moment he saw us together. After all, the way I’d rushed into Boon’s arms, the way our eyes had been locked together, it probably did look like love.

But was it? In a second, I knew I had my answer.

“
No, Daddy, but he’s my friend,” I said. This wasn’t, of course, nearly the whole truth. But it was some sort of truth. I didn’t
love
him, at least not then. After all, I’d only just met him, and it was going to take a lot more than one huge romantic gesture for me to start confessing undying love.

On the other hand, Boon certainly wasn’t just a friend. He was…something else. Something in between. The best way I could sum up exactly how I felt about Boon, how I’d felt when he sent me that text, was that I was excited beyond all reason to fall in love with him. I could feel it had already started to happen, and I was ready for it to happen.

As soon as the words left my mouth, I looked to Boon’s face, trying to see how he’d react. He didn’t look crestfallen. He didn’t look dejected. He looked…cold. He wasn’t looking at me, but at my father. I wanted to explain more. I wanted to tell them both: I’m confused! I could love him! If you’d let me, Dad, if you’d let me, Boon, I could love him!

“
Please, Daddy, stop,” I finally managed to say, more tears leaking from my eyes. And then my father deflated. Like a balloon, he just seemed to lose all the air and strength in his body at once. He didn’t drop his eyes from Boon’s, but he did drop his gun. His shoulders slumped. He shook his head.

“
Kid, you must have had some sorta traumatic brain injury on that hog of yours if you thought coming around here was a good idea,” Dad said at last. Boon’s shoulders dropped as well as he relaxed, no longer the target at the end of Dad’s shotgun. “Now, I suggest you get on that death machine of yours and ride it as far the fuck away from Missoula, Montana as you can get before you drown.”

With that, and nothing more, Dad turned. He strode towards Mom and I, who were huddled together, both sobbing, and grabbed us, pushing us ahead of him into the house. If I wasn’t so shocked already from everything that had happened, I would have been shocked by this rough treatment. Dad
never
laid a hand on Mom or I. Looking back once more before falling across my doorstep, I saw Boon, head hanging for just a moment before rising again and looking, defiantly, at my father’s back.

That look scared me almost as much as anything else that had just happened.

That look made me think that maybe I hadn’t been behaving very intelligently. That maybe I’d been downright stupid. Maybe I’d dragged my friends, my family, into a dangerous situation. After all, Boon was a member of a freaking
biker gang,
for god’s sakes.

His tattoos weren’t just there to look cool.

He didn’t ride a bike for fun.

This wasn’t a hobby.

He was trouble.

And I’d walked right into it, given him everything, been led on by his cute smile and strong arms and deep eyes. He got me high, and I made out with him in a bathroom. Suddenly, that story didn’t seem cool or edgy or fun. It seemed downright…
stupid.

I began to panic as my family filed into the house.
What if he comes after me, what if he comes after my dad, what if…

I remembered that I was still holding whatever it was Boon had slipped into my palm. In my frenzied state, I didn’t even bother looking at it, just slipped it into my pocket.

“
How did you meet him?” Dad asked, turning to face me as I stood in the hallway. He didn’t look angry anymore, just…confused? Maybe a little angry, still, but mostly sad and confused. I struggled to breathe, never mind speak.

“
Hugh, give her a minute,” Mom said, coming to my rescue. She threw her arm around my shoulders, curling me in close. I closed my eyes and let my head rest against her, feeling her breathe, steady and deep. How can moms go from freaking out to perfectly calm so quickly? How are moms so good at doing whatever the situation calls for? I know for a fact that Mom was not, in fact, feeling very calm at that moment. Despite the steadiness of her breathe, I knew that, inside, she was as strung up as I was. But she managed to keep it all under wraps. For my sake.

“
Vegas,” I finally managed to sniffle. My father rolled his eyes so hard he must have caught a glimpse of gray matter.

“
Vegas?
Vegas,
Samantha? You met him on your girl’s trip? Jessica, I knew we shouldn’t have fucking let that happen, Jesus Christ, and you gave him your
address?
Where the hell did you meet him in Vegas? Did you guys go to a goddam biker bar?” My father was about to launch into one of his famous tirades: a steady flow of words that could go on for hours, days even, if left unchecked.

“
Bill, you were the one who
suggested
Vegas,” Mom said, coming to my defense once more.

“
I didn’t give him my address, Daddy, I swear,” I said, wiping tears from my eyes. “Are we gonna be okay? Why did you do that, Daddy? What did he do?”

“
Just…go upstairs, please, Samantha, for now,” Dad said, sighing, looking defeated. I stayed put, not willing to leave until I got some answers. The panic had subsided to a dull, throbbing ache. Later, I’d know this was shock. At the time, it was all I could do to think straight. I was tired and angry and upset and hurt and curious all at the same time, but all of those feelings were just below the surface, just out of reach.

“
But…” I sputtered, but knew better than to protest further. Dad’s eyes had fallen on me, and I knew there was no arguing. Breaking away from my mother, I slowly shambled up the staircase to my room. For some reason, as I went, I thought about the day my parents had planned: a sunny, summer barbeque by the pool. The thought broke my heart into a million pieces.
And I ruined it,
I thought, finally reaching the top of the stairs. I looked down behind me; Mom and Dad both were staring up at their daughter: their beloved, straight-A, “saving it for marriage,” daughter.

I’d never been so happy to be sent to my room.

S.O.S.,
I tapped with shaking fingers on my phone, sending out a distress call to Becky and Alicia. Within seconds, they’d both responded.

Coming over now,
Alicia wrote back.

Be there in ten,
was Becky’s response.

No, can’t, stuck in room, skype?!?!?!
I shot back. I turned on my computer and opened Skype; they were both online already, and soon we were set up in a three-way chat. They could see, from one glance I’m sure, how upset I was. As I told them the whole story, from the text to the showdown to being sent to my room, their jaws dropped.

“
Holy shit, Samantha! How did he find you?”

“
Wait, your dad
threatened
him? With a
gun?
”

“
Do you know where he is? You gotta talk to him,” Alicia said. Becky’s face scrunched in reaction.

“
Alicia, what the hell are you talking about? You gotta stay far, far away from him, Samantha!”

“
Guys, I…”

“
No, no, I mean, we met him, too, Becky, I mean, he showed up at her
house,
what kind of guy does that unless he…”

“
Um, a serial killer?! A psycho, that’s who, Alicia! Samantha, if your dad…”

“
Your dad let him go, so obviously he’s not a murderer, girl…”

“
Alicia, you are the worst! Samantha, you CANNOT go looking for this guy, he’s bad news.”

“
He’s totally in love with you! So he’s got a past? Who doesn’t? Sammy, you absolutely cannot let him leave without…”

“
Guys, guys, I can’t, right now. Please, stop. I mean…he could be dangerous, like really dangerous! Or he could just be…I don’t know! Please, just everyone stop talking for like five seconds,” I finally managed to blurt out, breathing heavily. They were like physical representations of my own torn mind: what I wanted, and what I knew was right.

There was silence as Alicia and Becky paused in their ranting, both looking into their webcams with concern.

“
I’m sorry, I know, this is like…way much to deal with,” Becky finally said. Alicia nodded.

“
You don’t have to decide anything right now. Maybe you should talk to your dad first?”

“
Yeah, talk to your dad. See why he reacted that way. Then…well, then you can figure out what you wanna do,” Becky said, her voice loaded. I could tell she was really trying hard not to leap down my throat again. I could also tell that she was trying not to say “I told you so”: she had been the only one who’d ever suggested what I was doing with Boon was wrong.

“
Guys…what if I really screwed up? What if…”