Maci
Still on family leave from my job as a PA to a local psychiatrist, I enjoyed three days of sheer bliss. Three days of sleeping in while Digger went to the gym and Hawk’s bike shop. Three days of watching him ink skin at his hole-in-the-wall place near the club. Three days of too many burgers and eighties music, never mind my attempts to beat him at pool.
In those three days, the sedan didn’t make an appearance at its usual haunts. Digger and his brothers didn’t have to attempt a dangerous confrontation—thank fuck.
I met Hawk’s girl, Janie, a sweetheart who looked worn out and sad. Digger explained her manic and low episodes to me later, and I decided she’d be my new best friend. Guess it was that caretaker part of me that needed someone to help. We agreed to meet up the following week after Digger and I returned home from sprinkling Mom’s ashes on the pond.
My sister didn’t mind our going without her. She’d never returned to the pond after our dad had died—too many memories to induce tears, she’d said. Having to face those along with saying a final goodbye to Mom … she couldn’t handle it. I promised to send her a pic of the sunset reflecting off the pond, Mom’s favorite time of day.
Unseasonably warm, Mother Nature shone the sun down on us as we headed north on one of Digger’s bikes that had a passenger seat behind him. Big-ass saddlebags cradled my seat, holding our clothes and the bare necessities for our three-night getaway in the sticks.
Once we checked into the bed and breakfast, we headed north for another half-hour before pulling into the dirt parking lot of a back-woods bar and grill.
“Mel’s, huh?” I asked as Digger cut the engine and I climbed off his bike.
He dipped his head, gaze taking in the two-story building, its door propped open, windows wide to let in the warm air.
“Nicky’s girl,” he said, putting his hand on my lower back and ushering me forward.
“Oh.” He’d told me about the Glider who’d handed in his colors the spring before, and how the man had completely cut ties with his brothers. “I thought he didn’t want to keep in touch,” I said quietly, glancing up at the mountain of a man beside me. “What if he’s here?”
“Then he’ll answer for not keeping in touch.” The scowl on Digger’s face deepened. “I just want to make sure he’s all right in his new life. Bastard could at least let us know that much.”
I fought off my smile. Digger cared about his lost brother, that much was certain. Big old sweetie.
We walked into the dim interior and paused for our eyesight to adjust, the quiet country music a nice change from eighties music to my ears. A long bar ran the length of the room, stretching away on our left, while a few tables lined across the opposite side of the room beneath the many windows spanning the wall. Exposed overhead beams gave the place a warm, homey feel.
Two people sat at the bar. One was an older gentleman with watery eyes, the other a man at the far end, his vivid blue eyes sparking recognition as his gaze landed on Digger. The man stood and made his way toward us. A tight, white t-shirt hugged his upper body, leathers his lower. Gray hair spattered throughout the dark atop his head and the beard lining his jaw.
“Digger.” He stuck his hand out, and my man stepped forward and grabbed who had to be Nicky in a half-hug, slapping his hand on the older man’s back.
“Nicky,” Digger said, slapping him a second time. “Good to see you, brother.”
Nicky didn’t return Digger’s greeting, but the warmth in his eyes spoke of how he felt. “What are you doing up this way?” he asked as Digger released his hold.
“This is my girl, Maci,” he said, grabbing my hand and pulling me close. “Her mom recently passed, and we’re heading up to Pine River Pond to sprinkle her ashes.”
Nicky shook my hand, his grasp firm, one that let me know all I needed to about the man with the “67” tattooed on his neck. His brow furrowed as grief flitted through his eyes. “Sorry for your loss.”
I tried for a smile, remembering Digger had told me about his sister’s death a year earlier. “Thanks.”
I bet my life he was the man who Digger had learned from, the man who had given him the nickname. Badass or no, Nicky, too, seemed like a big teddy bear, I thought while peering into his eyes, feeling somehow connected in our grief.
Most would consider me crazy, but when a dark-haired woman closer to my age joined us, her smile lighting her brown eyes, Nicky’s gaze softened, the love in his gaze the type that inspired timeless love songs and fairy tales.
“My Mel,” Nicky said, tucking her against his side.
“So you’re the reason Nicky here won’t return our calls,” Digger said, grasping her outstretched hand but peering at Nicky.
“I’m trying to move on, Digger, and that means cutting ties.” Nicky’s voice stayed low—with just enough tension to raise the hairs on my neck.
“You could at least let us know you’re okay. Brothers worry.”
Nicky’s face didn’t twitch. “I handed in my colors.”
“Doesn’t matter to me.” Digger rubbed a hand along his beard. “You’ll always be my brother.”
I glanced at Mel to find her focus on me. “Hungry?” she asked with a smile, probably feeling the same tension I did.
“Couple of burgers would be great,” I replied, tugging on Digger’s arm toward the bar. We sat, and Nicky settled onto the stool beside me while Mel disappeared behind swinging doors behind the bar.
The watery-eyed man at the other end of the bar stared us down.
“Old Toothless is harmless,” Nicky said.
Unlike the men book-ending me, I thought glancing between the bikers. Nicky leaned on the bar, a mass of muscle under his short sleeves, tattoos to rival Digger’s on most of his exposed skin. “Did Digger do some of your tattoos?” I asked, eyeing the black, two-digit number on his neck.
“All my newer ink.” Nicky twisted his forearms around, revealing a myriad of color and shape, most blending into the next. A seamless tapestry, telling the Fallen Glider’s story that he couldn’t leave behind after handing in his colors.
“We miss you,” Digger said, his voice quiet.
Nicky nodded, but kept his lips tight.
“Sorry about your sister. Wish like fuck it hadn’t been our doing,” Digger continued when Nicky held his silence. “Wish like fuck we could find some other way of bringing in money. Rumor has it the Demons are into sex trafficking.”
“Jonny even thinks of going that route, I’ll do him in myself.” Nicky’s promise—for that’s exactly what his tone indicated—merely got a nod from Digger.
The two men downed a shot of whiskey while I shifted on my seat, my stomach in knots. No longer brothers by bond, but still… My heart ached for Digger. The stories he’d told me, even while not naming Nicky, revealed how much he cared for the older biker. If having to name his feelings, I’d go toward the way a young boy looked up to his father. Idolized the figure who ended up playing that role in his life.
Mel brought out our lunch a short while later, and while we ate, Nicky and Digger chatted about mostly meaningless stuff. Hardly the closure I expected Digger had hoped for.
We left a short while later, and the slump of Digger’s shoulders on the bike in front of me thickened my throat. I knew grief all too well. Guilt, too, and Digger obviously dealt with both emotions over his friend.
I leaned my cheek on the Gliders’ logo on his back, eyes closed while we rumbled up the road, wishing like hell I could send positive energy to him. Help carry his burden as he’d held me that first night and I released the tears over Mom.
A subtle shift of his body tightened the muscle beneath my cheek and hands around his waist. Muscles taut.
I sat up, but unable to ask because of the rush of wind and the loud motor beneath us.
Digger turned off the main highway, taking a back road I knew well from my younger years of heading to the pond. He remained tense as we pulled into a Mom-and-Pop gas station at a small intersection. Pulled up alongside the pump, Digger cut the engine, and I climbed off.
He stood, a mountain of a man, shoulders bunched as his gaze followed after a sedan slowly driving by. A tattooed, bearded blond stared at us through the driver’s window, the hatred in his eyes sending a shiver over me, pebbling my skin.
“Digger?” I whispered, laying my hand on his forearm as the car passed from sight.
“The same guys,” he said, pulling out his cell and swiping. “Jonny,” he said into the phone a second later as I processed what he’d meant. “They followed me up here. Yeah.” His gaze swung toward the empty road leading into the woods where the blond had driven. “I’ve had enough.” Another pause as he dug through one of the saddlebags and quickly slipped a handgun behind his belt. “Will do. I’ll give you a call soon as I can.”
Digger pocketed his cell and turned to face me, lowering his head a bit to peer into my eyes. “Jonny gave me the go-ahead to confront those two fuckers.”
I nodded. “You want me to stay here, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I’m not going to. I’m not going to sit here on the side of the road twiddling my thumbs wondering what the hell is going on, wondering if you’re okay.”
I expected him to argue, but he climbed back onto the bike and tipped his head, silently telling me to get on. Finally getting the whole heart-in-the-throat saying, I did as he ordered, adrenaline rushing through my body.
The engine roared to life, and Digger pulled back onto the road. A few bends, and the sedan appeared in the distance, heading toward us. I clung to Digger and closed my eyes as they drove past. Digger continued down the road, taking a few turns until I lost track. He turned into a hiking trail head parking area, one overgrown with weeds, its sign faded and falling apart.
Out in the middle of nowhere, my mind whispered… What the hell had I gotten myself into?