On my Kawasaki, I was completely in control.

At over a-hundred-miles-an-hour, I became a god.

Life was simple at that speed. There was only one direction to go. I was all alone in an ocean of pavement and no force on earth could stop me. The whipping wind and the rumble of the road was the only place I felt at home anymore. The faster I went, the clearer things were. The ride was never long enough, especially not after such a shit show like tonight.

The neon haze of our destination peeked into view like an oasis mirage. The worse part of the ride began; the slow down. It’s when everything I’d been outrunning from the whole ride started catching up with me.

I wished I could blow past Muse’s and just ride forever.

The Burnt Pig Bar, although we just referred to it as Muse’s Place, was as close to a permanent residence as a few of the members had. Top, Spare Rod, Fish, and Twitch and Twatch all had their mail delivered here.

The bar, basically a squat box of brick and glass, wasn’t much to look at, but the attached motel was a totally different feel. A pool, valet waiting area, white columns and massive windows. A biker would be hard pressed to find a better place to spend a night after a long-ass haul across the panhandle, but not tonight. I didn’t want any of it.

Tonight there was work to be done.

That two-stage, neon sign with the pig rotating over the flickering flame, typically a sign of good times ahead, was now just a reminder of all the shit show the Steel Veins had become. I thought about Bren…

How did we fuck that gas station job up so hard?

We pulled into our normal parking spots behind the bar.

Muse leaned against the open door already waiting for us. She liked to meet us in person whenever we arrived if possible. It was relatively easy for her to know when we were on our way in. In such flat, wide-open countryside, she’d have been able to hear us coming for miles.

Huge fake tits, black dyed hair, long black dress, black everything, Muse was a total Elvira-type chick. But instead of being borderline albino she was a smooth dark caramel in both skin tone and texture. No one ever believed she was pushing fifty. A real snake charmer, Muse could talk the moon out of its shine.

Despite all the bullshit today, it was always good to see her.

She’d always sauntered over to Top’s bike first, but this time she moved a little quicker when she saw the body across the back of his seat. She had her arms out with a consoling hug before he’d even thrown down his kickstand.

Top spared a pained glance at Bren, then swept her up into a big hug. She whispered something to him and the man broke down like a child. No one faulted him for it, not today. Top wore his emotions like the patches on his vest.

Part of me envied that kind of weakness.

All I felt after that long ride was overwhelming apathy.

I killed the engine and had to pry my cargo’s arms free to get off the bike. I traced the girl with my eyes.

Uncertainness and terror marred her soft, if a little plain, features as she glanced around and took everything in. Her glasses reflected the outside floods. It was the first time I’d ever seen a frightened deer on the other side of a pair of headlights.

Dark, shoulder-length wavy brown hair, now a tangled mess from the wind of the ride, and skin pale enough to trap the moonlight, she had tight curves buried under a billowy, white linen shirt and jean skirt that buttoned up the front. Her smooth skin was unblemished and radiant.

Supple, was the word that came to mind. I had to touch it to see if it was real.

I lifted her skirt at the side of her waist, and slowly ran a finger down the length of her thigh. Her body trembled slightly in the wake of my dragging finger. Her heartbeat was pounding so hard that I could feel it behind her knee. She was such a small thing, fragile thing.

I could wear her like a belt.

I walked around the bike to see if I could draw her gaze.

She didn’t move. Her full cheeks were marred with dust and streaked with lines of mascara.

She was pretty.

That of course, would make everything worse for her.

“Get off my goddamn bike,” I demanded.

I thought about the speed, the truck that almost hit us and riding in the pack with the other guys. Most of the time I’d forgotten she was on my bike at all. Maybe I over did it with that ride? Then I remembered the piece of shit that killed Bren.

My baby brother, Bren, was the last decent thing about the Steel Veins and now he was dead.

No. I hadn’t gone far enough. A bullet to the head was too merciful. I should’ve dragged that fucker behind my bike while he was still alive.

She slid off the seat and pulled at the edges of her skirt, as if she could somehow make it longer.

“My name is—” She started.

“I don’t care what your fucking name is.” I rubbed two fingers across leather seat where she was sitting, it felt slightly damp. Looking to see if she would flinch, I brought them to my nose and breathed it in.

Breathed her in.

She lowered her head.

Brushing aside her hair, I found her chin and forced it back up at me. I expected to see resignation and despair like the slags we typically fucked here, but no. This girl glared at me, her hate-filled eyes sparked with a defiant intensity that was surprisingly invigorating.

Good.

“Hold onto that hate. That’s the only friend you have here,” I said, walking past her. The guys were helping Crutch hobble inside. The fun was over for now, there was work to do. “Let’s go.”

Despite how much she hated me, the girl was my goddamn shadow as we all piled in through the bikers’ entrance. I absently pointed to a table in the corner, she dutifully went off and sat down, then I joined the rest of the guys by the pool tables.

Crutch was tossed a bottle of whiskey then was taken into the back room to get cleaned and sewn up. He’d sleep like death tonight, but he’d survive. I had Tee grab the shovels and take a few guys out to the back meadow to start the hole.

We’d get a stone for Bren in a day or two, but we’d put him in the ground tonight.

The staff had the bar cleared when Top walked into the room cradling the boy. Bren’s face was so pale it looked like he’d been replaced with a mannequin. It hit hard because he was so young; everyone’s kid brother. He was our club’s unofficial mascot. Top took it the worst for obvious reasons.

Our club’s membership path, like most, went like this: Acquaintance, Hang Around, Prospect then finally Full Patch. Bren had skipped Acquaintance status, but was stuck as Top’s personal Hang Around for—hell, ever since he’d been big enough to reach the handlebars. The only age requirement in the charter to be a Steel Veins member was a valid motorcycle license.

Bren had his license for three years.

We’d vote Bren in every year, and every year, Top would black ball him. In a brotherhood like ours, new patches had to be unanimous. This summer, Top finally caved and let him join, but only as Prospect… That was until I bitched him out for it. Top finally agreed to just make Bren a Full Patch and be done with it. We both knew Bren deserved it, Top was just overprotective.

As a Full Patch member, Bren was as much of a Steel Vein as anyone else in the club.

He would’ve been nineteen in a few months.

I pulled up a stool next to the big man at the bar. Bren was laid out to the right of both of us while his hole was being dug. It was just the three of us. Me, Top and Bren at the bar. The rest of the guys knew to give us some space.

The first drink was for blood only.

We sat in silence for a few minutes looking over our fallen new member. Top had our shots of root beer ready. Any other toast would’ve been whiskey, but Bren never developed a taste for alcohol.

He was the last decent thing about this club and now he was dead.

Top took out his nine-millimeter, dropped the clip and thumbed out two rounds. They clattered across the polished wooden bar and rolled in small circles until finally coming to rest. “I shoulda never let him in,” the big man mumbled, wiping the tears from his bushy beard. Some of our crew had been killed in the past and it had always been rough, but never hit this close to home.

“Nope,” I agreed without hesitation, picking up one of the bullets up. I snorted at how much I had in common with the bullet as I rolled it through my fingers.

Cold, hard and useless without a gun.

What could I say? Top was right. Our younger brother was just that, too young. Bren didn’t even have a gun when he was killed.

“It shoulda been me or you…” Top cleared the broken gravel from his throat. He tried to continue, but couldn’t.

“At least we deserved it,” I finished the sentiment for him. We deserved it a hundred times over for all the shit we did, but Bren was the one to catch a bullet? Nah. In what universe did that make any fucking sense”

Neither of us could accept it.

I bit down on the bullet until my teeth ached, then rolled it to the back of my tongue.

“Amen,” Top said, dropping his bullet into his shot glass. We clinked them together and downed our root beer.

Now, all three of the Daniels brothers had a bullet in them.

Top immediately chased the soda with several large gulps of the shittiest, bottom-shelf well whiskey they had, growling against the acidic burn and stood up. Top only drank the worst alcohol when something bad happened.

We all took our penance differently.

He slapped me on the back and started the eulogy. Most of the members took turns recounting everything about Bren that they could remember. From Bren’s first ride at twelve years old to the first time, they’d got him laid, the bar boomed with choked-up sentiments, uproarious laughter and clinking glasses. The staff struggled to keep the clubs cups full.

I slunk to the back of the room and sat quietly. I was no good at these things at the best of times, let alone now. Bren had been on my mind the whole ride here, the last thing I wanted was to hear more stories about him.

I glanced back at my latest mistake to make sure she hadn’t run off.

The girl was right where I left her, looking small as ever. Her head in her crossed arms hunched over the table, no doubt hoping to go unnoticed. She looked like the frightened puppy Top brought home for Bren after Mom left.

I guess this time, I’d brought home the puppy.

Her eyes and nose poked up over her elbows as she surveyed the room. I saw a bit of fire in her earlier, and beneath her demureness, I hoped to see it again. I wondered how crafty she was.

Would she try to escape?

What did I care if she did try to escape?

Muse’s place was so far from everywhere that it wouldn’t matter if she tried. Someone would catch her eventually. If it weren’t for me, she’d already be dead. I couldn’t help her anymore. I absently rotated the mug of beer in my hand. I still didn’t know if keeping her alive was a kindness or a cruelty. Why did I even want to help her?

Her boyfriend killed my brother.

People die all the fucking time. That’s all you can rely on someone to do. She was on her own.

Fuck her.

“Remy!” Skank waved me over. “We’re doing it, man. Come on.”

Tee must’ve finished the hole. I downed the rest of my beer and stood up. Despite myself, I glanced back at the girl. One of the bar staff was asking her to move to a different table so she could clean that one. We hadn’t given them any advanced notice so the understaffed employees bustled around like crazy to clean the place up.

“No,” Top rigidly declared. He had Bren over one hulking shoulder. His eyes drilled daggers into the startled girl. “The bitch stays right there.”

It was a tone that said ‘I hadn’t forgotten about you.’

Most of the ceremony was done at the bar, so when we put Bren in the ground that was more or less the end of it. Muse said a few words that made us all feel like shit while also lifting our spirits. She coulda been one hell of a politician.

“Fuck.” I choked down the word and looked away, my face flushed with the swell of hot, angry grief as the first shovel of dirt was thrown on him.

I’m going to miss you, little brother.

When it was done, Muse led the dour parade back inside and kicked on some music. She was determined to lift the mood of the place by announcing that the booze was on the house tonight. The resounding cheer threatened to blast out the bar’s windows. Things went even wilder when she had some of the trashy waitresses get onto the bar and dance.

It took about an hour, but the rest of her employees started to filter in too. Mostly junkies ranging from their late teens to their late forties, the girls all wore maid outfits. They were officially hired on as hotel cleaning staff.

Muse was a businesswoman at heart and a cunning one at that. That’s why she treated us so damn well. We were good for business. We sold her the drugs that she, in turn, sold to the motel guests, and to her girls, of course. Above all, we had a safe place to crash, and she knew that her property was never going to be fucked with by outsiders.

It was an incredibly lucrative relationship for the club and for Muse, one that came dangerously close to actual friendship.

I nestled into a stool at the end of the bar and impatiently waited for a mug of whatever they were pouring. I wasn’t picky as long as it was going to fuck me up. The sooner this day was over the better.

“You can have mine while you wait.” A tattooed blonde took the stool next to me and slid me her beer. Her blue eyes weren’t dull like some of the other girls, but they had definitely lost their shine. Despite the faint lines on her face, you couldn’t mistake her for being any older than her early twenties. The few recent track marks on her arms told me she hadn’t been house property for long.

Must be a new girl.

I glanced at Muse who was laughing and joking with a small group of bikers and maids. Like the master of ceremonies she was, she felt me looking at her and winked back at me. Muse was all about customer satisfaction.

“Hey, sugar, I’m Debbs. Muse told me to take extra special care of you tonight,” the blonde cooed in my ear.

I looked her over and took the beer, but wasn’t in a talkative mood. That didn’t faze her, she pressed on anyway. She told me about how much of a dick her boyfriend was and how he wasn’t fucking her enough. That routine must work wonders with the other bikers.

Usually, I was better at tolerating the small talk bullshit, but there was just too much on my mind right now. “Shut the fuck up,” I grumbled, more exasperated than hostile.

Blessedly, the blonde complied. “I’m sorry. I thought...” She let the useless words drift as she started to stand up.

“I didn’t say leave.” I grabbed her inner thigh and planted her back down onto the stool. “Just…don’t say anything.” I was angry and torn up inside. I wanted to be left alone, but I didn’t want to be alone. I hated this grief and guilt and I hated how none of my emotions did what I wanted them to. It felt like nothing I did made any fucking sense and that just made me more anxious and confused.

I wanted to scream, but I also didn’t want to ever utter another worthless word. What was the point? I hadn’t felt this shitty since Maria died.

The blonde sat next to me in extremely uneasy silence until Top arrived some time later. He leaned against the bar next to me. I didn’t have to turn around to know he was scouting the girl from the gas station. I’d been stealing glances at her all night in the mirror behind the bar.

“What are you doing, Rem?” he asked, lowering his eyebrows.

“Having a good time till you showed up.” I knew where this was going.

Damn it.

“I thought you put all that behind you?” Top cocked his head toward the girl I’d brought from the gas station.

I kept quiet, deliberately not looking at her.

“Maria’s dead,” Top stated sympathetically. “Let her stay dead, Remy. All you’re doing is torturing yourself.”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” I lied.

“No?” Top scoffed. “You develop a type all of a sudden?”

“She looks nothing like Maria.

“Brown hair. Slight build. Glasses for fuck’s sake? Coulda fooled me.”

“Maria was Mexican, you racist prick.” I snapped a glare at him, but quickly diffused. Top had no problem with Maria’s heritage, he was just trying to get a rise out of me. He was already half in the bag and was only bound to get worse. “Gas station girl doesn’t mean a goddamn thing to me.”

“Well, alright then. Glad we cleared that up.” Top pounded a fist into the bar and waved over another round of beers. Top whistled the gas station girl over, but she hesitated and looked to me. Unfortunately for her, Top picked up on that. “Don’t look at him. You get. The fuck. Over. Here. Now.” Top didn’t tolerate disrespect and I think she could sense that, because she scampered over immediately. When the girl was within arm’s reach, Top grabbed her, pulled her closer. His tone shifted to saccharine, as he asked her sweetly, “What’s your name, Girl?”

“Star,” she replied quickly, but without timidity. Surprisingly, she wasn’t as cowed as I figured she’d be. Top was intimidating even to other bikers. The girl wasn’t spineless.

I liked that.

“You like to dance, Star?” Top shifted his shoulders in what he thought was dancing. When Star didn’t answer, Top’s sternness returned. “I asked you a fucking question.”

“Sometimes.”

“Looks like it’s your lucky day, bitch.” Top picked her up with ease and sat her on the bar. She stuttered in a worried breath as he tore the front of her linen shirt open to her navel. Top then gently reached behind her, and with surprising delicacy, unclasped her bra. “And I’d better like what I see, ya hear?” He pulled the bra back to gawk at Star’s perky tits, then elbowed for me to check them out.

They were nice. She didn’t look anything like Maria, but she was very pretty.

“You’re off to a good start.” He reached out tickling her tiny, pink nipples.

Star recoiled backwards in horror, one hand covering her breasts, which drew a hearty laugh from my giant of a brother. She stumbled to her feet on the bar and quickly found everyone in the room watching her.

Hunched forward, clutching herself defensively dread poured out of Star’s features. She’d either played along or…deal with the consequences.

The music switched over from the rock we were used to, to something faster with a better beat for dancing. Star was one of three girls on the bar, and was the slowest to start actually moving. I had to give her a little credit. She hadn’t broken down into tears yet. Most regular girls in her situation probably would’ve been catatonic. Star was holding her shit together for the most part.

Hollers of “Take it off!” and “Fuck yeah, baby!” rang throughout the place as everyone realized Star wasn’t one of Muse’s employees. Star was different in a lot of ways, but most notably, she wasn’t corrupted by the MC lifestyle like everyone else was.

The other girls loved the attention. Their halter tops and bras flung at cheering men and a few women. As the bass lines and beat got louder, Muse’s girls reveled in it, lewdly thrusting their hips all over the place. They shook their tits and grinding on each other with reckless abandon that could only be considered sexy if you were already drunk.

It was all too sloppy, and overzealous to get me hard.

Star took a deep breath, coming to terms with some new resolve and slowly started to move. Her eyes glossed over and she fell into a trance, moving shoulders and hips fluidly in opposite directions. Her hands peeled off her chest in a strip tease, then chased her curves, rubbing them down her sides. She lowered herself into a squat, then onto her knees completely. Her dark hair cascaded in a plume over her shoulder, before whipping it over her arching back.

She crawled up along the bar. Guys pulled their drinks away so as not to impede her in any way. Her tempo started to pick up, raising my pulse rate with it. The girl could move when she wanted to. I wondered if she even knew she had this skill before tonight.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I only noticed I was at half-mast when my dick pushed into the front of my jeans. It was uncomfortable enough for me to reach in and adjust. The way this girl was dancing, my cock was going to be snaked down my thigh soon.

As soon as I pulled my hand out of my pants, I felt another hand go in. The blonde next to me had taken it as a cue. I felt her fingers wrap around my cock one by one. At first, she kept it still and just squeezed. A good start.

The blonde stared at me, rubbing her pussy through her jeans, and bit at her lip a little too exaggeratedly. She was trying to steal my attention from Star.

I barely even noticed her. For me, the show was on the stage.

Star’s hips pulsed on her way back up into a standing position. Her modest tits heaved forward as her body twisted. She ran her hands over them, pushing them together, or sliding past altogether on her way to and through her hair. Her distant, worlds-away gaze flitted across the room just above everyone’s head. Finally, her eyes crashed into my own hyper focused stare.

And we were locked together.

The blonde next to me worked my cock with long, jealous strokes inside my pants. She moved in to kiss me, but I leaned away refusing to take my eyes off Star.

Star was dancing just for me.

When the blonde started squeezing me again, I imagined it was Star doing it. My cock flexed and throbbed, at the thought of Star’s hand sliding over the tip of my cock. Her hand working me back and forth.

The sudden cooler bar air took me by surprise. I looked down to find the blonde had opened my pants and pulled my cock out. She licked her hand and went back to it.

I got a clap on the back by one of the other guys that walked by. Most of the members liked to sleep alone, so it wasn’t uncommon for them to bend a girl over the pool table for a half hour, then crash out by themselves. Hose and Copper Head were going to town, double teaming a particularly worn out employee on the floor by the booths.

The other three girls that had been dancing had already hopped off the bar and were working the crowd. For the many faults of our twisted little brotherhood, nobody gave a fuck about who fucked who, or where.

That left only Star, who was crawling toward me. Her eyelids heavy, head tilted back, pink tongue parting the slick slivers of her beautiful lips.

The blonde’s breath was hot on the tip of my dick, before she rammed my shaft down her throat with the urgency and tenacity of a junkie desperately trying to impress for their next fix.

Star kept advancing until she saw the shock of blonde hair rising and falling rapidly in my lap. It was over. The spell was broken. It was like someone pulled the plug on her libido. Star paused dejected.

That was her play!

Star had been trying to seduce me. If she kept me busy tonight, she wouldn’t be at the whim of everyone else that wanted to turn her out. I bet she didn’t know she’d just used a prison tactic on me.

Fuck me, this girl is crafty. I smiled for the first time all day.

My smug revelation was cut short when Star was ripped off the bar by her hair.

“Hey!” I shot up off the stool, angrily protesting.

The blonde gagged at my abruptness, sliding off my cock and falling on her ass to the filthy floor with a resounding comical thump.

“What? You give a shit about gas station girl after all?” Top shot back, slurring the words and narrowing his eyes. He was solidly plastered. This made him even more short tempered than usual.

Star’s plan worked, but on the wrong guy. Top was going to ruin her. Not just because he wanted to fuck, but because of who she was. Anyone could see that he blamed her for Bren’s death, even if only vicariously. He was also making good on the promise he made earlier in front of everyone. When he said something in front of the whole club, come hell or high water, Top delivered.

He wasn’t the kind of man who made idle threats.

Yeah, she’d be alive after he was done with her, but who would want to fuck her? Considering the mood Top was in, Star would be wishing for a bullet.

I sat back down and said nothing, letting him drag Star off kicking and screaming.

It doesn’t matter… I scolded myself. This was just a matter of time. It was better to tear the Band-aid off now and forget about her.

The blonde dusted herself off, and looked around to see if anyone saw her fall, then went back to work on my dick. Junkies gave the worst fucking blowjobs. She was too fast and applied pressure in all the wrong ways. I felt frustrated and nowhere close to coming. “It’s a cock, not a goddamn lollipop.”

She looked wounded and slid her mouth off my wet dick in a pitiful display.

Watching Star get dragged away to the far wall killed my hard-on.

After a pause, she started in again with her only her hand this time.

I immediately stopped her and put my shit away. “Forget it. Just get me another beer.”

Top had torn off the remainder of Star’s shirt. She fought him off the best she could, but that wasn’t saying much. Top was enjoying the challenge.

I forced myself to look away again. She was dead anyway. Who gives a shit? That’s just the way things went here. I’d known the girl existed for what? A few hours, at most. Hell, I didn’t even know her name until she got up on that bar. Top was my only blood family still alive, and this club was all I had. Was I really going to jeopardize all that because of my nagging conscience?

Any goodness left in me died with Maria. I didn’t give a fuck about anyone, let alone the bitch whose boyfriend killed my younger brother.

To hell with her.

“No! Please!” Star’s scream rang out all the way across the room even over the music.

It made me reach for my box of smokes. With oddly clumsy fingers, I packed the box and pulled a cigarette out, knowing this would soothe my suddenly racing nerves. Yeah, the nicotine was great, but it was the act of something burning, drawing smoke in and out, that really hooked me. After a few hurried drags I wasn’t better, I was only more on edge. I crumpled the cigarette in my fist burning cherry tip and all. I wasn’t drunk enough and I knew weed or coke wasn’t going to cut it.

I started to make my way out of the bar. I needed some fresh air. If I couldn’t see what was happening to her, then maybe I’d be able to forget about—

When Star’s screams sharply cut off—I couldn’t help, but look.

Top had his hand over her nose and mouth. She writhed and struggled for air as he tore off her panties and forced them into her face. Star gasped for air and kicked wildly, but it was no use. For as drunk as he was, Top had her. She wasn’t going anywhere.

Are you really going to let this happen? This time, it was Bren’s boyish voice in the back of my heart. It wasn’t a judgmental reprimand. Those I could brush off. It was a plea. That made it so much worse.

I exhaled hard, pinching my eyes shut and hating myself for being so weak as to actually care. I growled at myself, at Bren, and at the whole damn world.

Fine. Just this once.

Opening my eyes, I scanned the bar. The drunkest motherfucker around was Black Nicky, big Scottish guy with a neatly trimmed chinstrap-beard. He was our Sergeant at Arms. The bastard that kept us all in line. Mostly.

He’ll do.

Black Nicky was passed out at the bar. I snatched the beer out of the blonde’s hand as she made her way back to me and I bee lined for the drunken Scott. I took a big sip, put the beer on the bar and shook him awake. “Nicky. Black Nicky, wake the fuck up.”

“Imup imup. I am awake!” he snorted, quickly falling back asleep.

“Did you hear what they just said?” I asked.

Nicky’s eyes opened really wide, then started shutting again.

I was losing him, so I stood him up and continued, “Fuck you, you mother fucker!” I exclaimed loudly to no one in particular as I threw an arm around the sleeping Scott. Then, quieter, I turned back to Nicky. “They said that you used to fuck sheep back in the old country. You’re not a sheep fucker, are you Nicky?”

Nicky’s eyes opened wide again, this time staying open. His haze lifted as he flew into a blind rage, looking for someone to hit. “That was one time!” He roared.

I pointed him toward a few of the guys directly across from us.

The bewildered bikers regarded him with confusion, then terror as Nicky launched himself at them. Black Nicky was a big mother fucker. He took three of them to the ground.

Tee jumped in to tear Nicky off, but was being thrown around like he was riding an electric bull. I tossed my beer on Old man Gunny who was face deep in a girl half his age. He turned thinking Tee had done it and laid him out with a brutal punch. Tee didn’t deserve it, but I needed Nicky to tear it up for a while longer.

I’d buy all Tee’s rounds tomorrow night.

Gunny jumped in and the bar fight spread like a grease fire. I had to duck a chair thrown by Twatch, who somehow lost her pants in all this. Not the first time she was bare-assed in a bar fight, certainly wouldn’t be the last. Her husband Twitch was a lightweight and passed out an hour ago, as always.

It was pandemonium. Guys were throwing punches just to hit something. They were still pissed off about what happened to Bren and desperately needed to blow off steam. Sex and drugs wasn’t going to cut it for the Steel Veins, we needed violence too.

They were a powder-keg and I’d just supplied the match.

It wasn’t enough. One hand on her throat, Top was too enthralled with Star to notice or care about anything else. He watched her wiggle desperately. His other hand dragged down her stomach to her skirt.

Damn. Looks like I’m going to need a sacrificial lamb.

I pulled aside one of the terrified employees. Stockier than rest of the other girls, the redhead I grabbed was the shift leader, and was more or less just a bartender.

“What’s your name?” I asked, going through the motions.

“Britney.”

“Pretty wild huh, Britney?” I nodded, in feigned disbelief.

“Oh my God, yes! This is crazy!” Britney was terrified. I could tell that she’d never seen any fights like this before. She was still new to the position. I didn’t remember seeing her last time we were here. That wasn’t surprising; Muse had a high turnover rate for her employees.

Bren was far from the only person buried out behind the parking lot.

“Not much you can do, Britney. Sure as hell can’t call the cops, and Muse is asleep by now. If you wake her up because you can’t handle what’s going on, you’ll probably become one of the regular employees.” Regulars had to do all sorts of nasty jobs. I let the implications soak into her.

“Fuck! Jesus!” Britney arched her drawn-on eyebrows and gasped. “What do we do?”

“You see that big guy over there?” I pointed. “His name’s Top. He’s the chapter president and is your best bet at stopping this before they destroy the place.”

“I—I don’t know.” She was on the verge of breaking down.

I pulled her down as a half-full mug sailed over our heads and smashed into the top shelf of liqueur behind the bar. Glass and expensive booze sprayed out in a wide arc coating everything. Britney screamed.

“You’re in charge, Britney.” I took her by the shoulders. “BE in charge. You can do this.”

Britney’s worry was apparent, but her desire not to end up like the rest of the girls was strong enough to push through. She swallowed, nodded to me, and went to talk with Top. Plead with, more likely.

“You!” I called out to the other startled bartender, a brunette who was cowering on the floor covered in liquor and broken glass. I remembered her from one of our previous trips here. She wasn’t as rattled as Britney; she was just trying to keep her head down and wait for this to blow over. “Get me an extra work shirt. I need a pair of pants too.” I looked the girl over. She had a slight enough build for what I had in mind. “Something in your size.”

The brunette bartender hurried off, slipping out the side door into the hotel proper.

Britney was having trouble getting Top to even acknowledge her. He’d been drinking for a while and was too riled up to notice the timid bartender. She wasn’t going to be able to do it…

I snatched up a nearby glass and hurled it against the wall, just above Top’s head. Britney screamed and dropped to the floor. Top scanned the room, but couldn’t place the thrower. I grabbed another mug and was filling it at one of the taps across the bar, innocently watching the chaos unfold.

Finally, pants around his ankles and cock at full attention, Top looked around and realized how badly everything went to hell. Top was murderously angry, but he had an obligation to all of us, and to Muse. This brawl had gone too far and he needed it ended now. It would take him a little while to de-fuck the place. He let Star go, pulled up his pants, and waded into the middle of the fight.

Now bikers were the ones flying through the air.

Gasping for air from the strangling and shaking from the attempted rape, Star took advantage of the distraction to roll off the table she’d been forced onto.

The brunette had returned a minute later with two handfuls of clothing. I skirted around the outside of the brawl and brought them to Star, who was a sobbing mess.

Even bitter defiance has its limits.

I’d killed, blackmailed, threatened, maimed, but rape… I gritted my teeth.

Rape was just too far.

Disgust and guilt gripped me when I looked down at the wreck Star had become. Lying there naked, she looked so fragile. The harsh, flickering, neon-blue Budweiser sign on the window next to Star dulled all the new bruises and gave her skin a waxy, sickly look. She looked like she’d just come off a mortuary slab.

“Put these on.” I tossed her the clothes.

Betrayed, she looked up at me through watery eyes, dripping with skepticism.

I tried to keep the growing pangs of remorse and empathy from my face. “Hate me later.” I turned my back to let her get dressed, not in privacy—it was far too late for that, but at least without one more person looking at her. “You don’t want to be here when he comes back.”

Regardless of how she felt about me, this point hit home and Star dressed as quickly as she could.

Fewer bodies flew now as Top bellowed commands. The bar’s chaos was winding down; soon Top would quell the riot. We couldn’t wait any longer. Time was up when I could see Top start to look around.

Star needed to be a ghost. Now!

I picked up her glasses, which was becoming a habit I wasn’t thrilled with, then I grabbed her by her shirt and led her out of the bar.

When we were safely through the breezeway that divided the bar from the hotel, I handed her glasses back, and placed a room key in her hand. She’d be relatively safe if she hid in my room, at least for the night. “Room 203,” I said, before turning back to the bar.

“W-why are you helping m-me?” Star warbled in air and choked on it. She was on the brink of really losing her shit.

I couldn’t answer. Honestly, I didn’t know why I was helping her either. Not really. I had illusions about being some bullshit hero.

“I don’t understand you! You save me just to watch me suffer? Do you get off on my pain? Is that it, you sadistic fuck?” Star scolded me with hushed tones, obviously worried about drawing any more attention.

I still couldn’t face her.

When she shoved me, I whirled around and grabbed her. I had to squeeze her arms to stop her from throwing punches at me.

“Please just tell me if I can trust you. I need this, please, just tell me? I can’t handle this!” She couldn’t hold back the tears any longer.

The hallway we were in was dark; rain had started to fall against the windows. Gentle crashes of a distant storm echoed across the empty plains. Our world inside this hallway was still. If I had something to say, this was the perfect time to say it. “This world is fucked, fast and rough. I am cancer. I am death’s handshake. In my wake, I leave only ruin,” I softly growled at her. “No, you can’t trust me.”

Her face started to fall, but I was able to turn away in time to be spared most of it. She was right to hate me. To fear me. The further from me she got, the better off she’d probably be, even if that meant dead.

I walked back into the bar.

Top had it mostly wrapped up now. I helped him pull the last of the thrashing drunks off each other. He yelled for a bit, but he understood why all this went down. The grieving process is as fucked and stupid as we were. I helped clean off the bar, and had the mortified bartenders slide everyone who was still standing, another round.

There was so much blood, beer and debris that it looked more like a war zone than a bar.

“I’m not looking forward to explainin’ this to Muse. I’ll wake up with my balls on her shelf.” Top chuckled.

“Heh, yeah. Hell of a night,” Skank piped up. “Just give those big black tits of hers a good motorboatin’ and she’ll forgive you.”

“Before or after the entirety of the gas station score?” I offered, masking the repulsion I felt about this evening.

Everyone laughed.

For the rest of the night, every time Top would look around for Star, I reeled him back in with a story, question or joke, all the while feeding him shots. After a few, no one was sober. Top was asleep on the bar, and the ones who could walk had stumbled off to their rooms. We all had hell to pay for the destruction, but that was tomorrow’s problem.

For now, my goal was to get as obliterated as possible and forget everything about this shitty day.

The night had wound down and I was still horny as fuck from Star’s bar dance. I was about to find a backroom and rub one out when I spotted the junkie blonde from earlier staring off at nothing in a booth. I think she was trying to use her phone, but was way past the point of concentration. She’d disappeared a while ago to the shooting gallery, and came back on a wicked nod.

Fucking junkies.

I was pretty sloppy drunk when I walked the blonde into the hotel and couldn’t remember what the fuck happened to my keys. She told me her room number and we went there instead. For some reason, her key wouldn’t unlock, so I put my shoulder into it. We crashed through her door and into the dark, hallway lit room, we were undressing before we hit the ground.

She plastered me with clumsy drunken kisses that I tolerated to a point. I didn’t bother sliding her panties off, just flicked them to the side, and unceremoniously rammed my middle two fingers into her.

We weren’t making love. This was just ugly, necessary sex.

“Unh,” she grunted. Her pussy was warm and slick enough. With ease, I slid in a third and curled my digits.

She moaned now, still too softly.

I wanted this girl to scream. I needed it.

A forth finger slid in, which made her grunt. “Fuck!”

Now for the first time since we started, her eyes fully opened. Her arms slid impotently behind her, mashing roughly against the wall as she struggled to prop herself up.

My fingers pushed her sidewalls farther apart and slithered back and forth in a beckoning motion. My thing wasn’t violence for the sake of violence like some of the other guys, or drugs. I didn’t do yoga, or talk about my feelings. I wasn’t a child at heart and I’ve never held a stress ball. Hell, I wasn’t even much of a drinker, tonight excluded for obvious reasons.

The blonde gave me a full scream, first of many.

This. My cock hardened at the sound of her voice hitting a higher pitch. This was how I grieved.

The blonde’s ass slapped down onto the TV mounted cabinet, my fingers still inside her. I pulsed, tensed and felt her scream vibrate through her pussy. It was loud enough to wake the neighbors. That wasn’t good enough. I was in a ruinous mood and needed more.

When she stammered for more, I pulled out completely. I wiped my hand off on her stomach and just stood there until she begged.

“Pleasepleaseplease.” The blonde crumbled forward on top of me. I pulled back farther and she followed. I hit the bed and let it swallow me. Something large shifted off the mattress and fell. I didn’t have the time to check what it was before the blonde landed on me.

“Not a lollipop...” It took a second to register her muffled words, with her mouth stuffed full of my cock. She was energetic, but still wasn’t very good. Sloppy and loose, she didn’t squeeze the shaft hard enough or make any kind of suction.

I had to stop her and flip her onto her back.

The girl just could not suck dick.

“Fuck me. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!” She squirmed and clawed for me, trying to pull me in like I was another fix for her.

That was fine. I didn’t care what I was to her. I didn’t even know her name.

Star.

NO. Fuck. I pushed the name out of my head, kneeling before the blonde. Cock in hand rubbing back and forth. I was still slick from the bad blowjob. There was no easing in when I thrust into the blonde. She existed here in this moment to please me that was all. I rammed hard enough to crack her pelvis and I neither of us barely felt anything.

The girl beneath me groaned vacantly, but my head was elsewhere.

My eyes mashed shut, I could still see Star crawling toward me across the bar. Thoughts of Star sprouted in my mind like weeds. I couldn’t tear them out fast enough. Every dull thrust into this blonde made the dream of Star feel more vivid. I hated that my body yearned for her.

Star was a lost cause, I’d have to let go of whatever hang up I had with the girl.

I opened my eyes to find the street light that filtered into the room through the sheer curtains glinting off a pair of ovals on metal frames. How’d I miss that before?

It was a pair of glasses. Glasses that looked a lot like Star’s… I must have been drunker than I thought.

I flipped the blonde over, grabbed her hips and pushed her face into the comforter. I squeezed harder into her thighs to get a better handle for what was basically masturbation with a hand the size of an entire woman. It wasn’t working. None of this was. I felt my cock starting to go soft. I wasn’t enjoying myself and wasn’t going to get off.

What am I doing?

I couldn’t even fuck to console myself. I was coming apart at the seams and all I could think of was a girl I shouldn’t be with and couldn’t save. Is this what life was now without Bren?

“Who’re you?” the blonde asked distractedly.

A silhouette rose on the other side of the bed, and snatched the glasses off the counter. I couldn’t see any details, but I could feel the flood of emotions coming off the slender form.

“Nobody,” came a woman’s voice, cracked and broken, overflowing with disdain and sorrow, before she bolted for the still open hallway door.

“Star?” I asked, not sure if I said the word or just thought it.

Whose room was I in?