Nester

 

I was sitting on the couch, my makeshift bed, with my elbows on my knees and my chin in my hands. I hadn’t been able to think much past Zelda and all that had happened—all that had been said. It was eating me alive to know that I’d told her she was awful, a traitor, and worse than that. That she was selfish and had never loved me like I loved her.

 

But how was I supposed to know?

 

I thought of Zelda. She had a sweet face that made her youthful and would probably continue to do so even when she was in her forties and fifties. Her hair was wild and thick, the kind that you wanted to tangle your hands in and tug on. And her body…

 

God, how I loved that fucking body.

 

She was built like a porn star rather than a model, her waist tiny, but her breasts strained against every shirt she ever owned and her hips flared out in the most deliciously perfect way that I’d ever seen in a woman. Hourglass was meant to describe her body. She was the kind of woman you wanted to grab handfuls of and haul to you, because you wanted to feel her, dive into her, and listen to the sounds and watch the faces she made.

 

And that was probably enough for most guys. Her body, her youth were what attracted more than one suitor her way and it had been a big reason why Zelda and I hadn’t dated until years after we met. She was so used to the kind of guy who took one look at her tits and decided she was worth fucking and having on his arm, but nothing more.

 

But that wasn’t why I wanted her.

 

The physical attraction was great. I loved wanting her the way I did and my cock strained against my jeans every time I thought of her, but that wasn’t why I loved her in the end. I loved her because she had a plan for life and the determination to see it through.

 

We were meeting at the strip mall because there was a tattoo shop at the end, a cheap café on the opposite side and a bike shop between them. There were other things, too, like clothing shops and one of those stores that sold knickknacks and other useless junk, like the little porcelain angel dolls that kind of freaked me out. My step-mom liked to collect them and they always seemed to stare at me when I walked into the house.

 

The other stores didn’t mean a lick to me, but some of the guys were bringing their girls—and I’d invited Zelda—so I figured if they got bored, they could go occupy themselves with something generally frivolous and dumb.

 

The girls arrived on the backs of bikes, clinging to the several friends I’d asked to come along. Bobby was going to get a tattoo—his first one, which had us all laughing, because I’d had one since seventeen—and the rest of us were mostly just here for moral support. And to laugh our asses off if he cried at the whole thing.

 

The bike shop here was where I’d picked up my Harley and I was going to look around there when watching Bobby get tattooed became too boring. I was hoping that I could talk Zelda into going with me. Some alone time with her was exactly what I craved.

 

Bobby dismounted from his bike, untangling the hands of the redhead behind him. She pouted a little, but I figured it was mostly in play, because he put his arm across her shoulders and she smiled at him.

 

“Hey, Nester, how you been?”

 

“Good,” I answered, and started walking towards the tat shop. Others followed us—there were four of us guys and three girls. Zelda hadn’t showed yet and I was beginning to think she wouldn’t. She was like that sometimes, cancelling on big group get togethers, usually because she didn’t care for the type of company I entertained.

 

Her words, not mine.

 

“You know what you’re getting?” I asked as I pulled out my cell phone. I was texting Zelda to see if she was coming and even offered her a ride if that was part of the issue.

 

Bobby beamed at me, his grin a little goofy. “Yep, sure do.”

 

“It’s something stupid, isn’t it?” asked Mark, one of the other guys who’d tagged along. We got along okay, but I didn’t go out of my way to spend time with him or anything.

 

“Shut up, Mark,” Bobby snapped at him. He returned his attention to me. “It’s a heart that says ‘Eternity.’”

 

Mark instantly burst out laughing and I had to admit, I wasn’t far from doing so myself. If I hadn’t been so distracted texting Zelda, I probably would have. “Eternity?” was all I said instead.

 

Bobby must have said something in response, likely defending himself, but I wasn’t paying attention. Instead of telling me that she needed a ride or bailing completely, she told me she was here. I glanced up from my phone, letting the guys and their giggling girls go ahead, and looked around for her.

 

There was a bus stop not too far from where we all were and I saw that people were just getting off. One of the last ones was Zelda.

 

My mouth tugged into a smile of its own accord and I waved my friends ahead. “Go on. I’ll catch up in just a minute.” Then I jogged over to meet Zelda at the bus stop.

 

“Hey,” I greeted, half breathless, and not from the run, though I hoped that was what she would think. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t make it.”

 

She made a face. “I almost didn’t. I should be putting in more applications if I really want to get in, not going and doing crazy kid things.” It might have been an admonishment, but she was smiling as she said it and I couldn’t feel the burn.

 

“You’ve got forever for that. How many times are you going to get to see Bobby get his first tattoo?” I countered, then grinned broadly. “It’s going to say Eternity.”

 

She actually laughed at that, a sound I loved and so often tried to bring out in her. “Wow, and no one told him that might be a little…well…”

 

“Stupid?” I offered.

 

She nodded.

 

“Hey, the first one is supposed to be stupid. One giant mistake, you know? After that, we’ll tell him what’s up.”

 

She proceeded to tell me how she thought that was rather ridiculous and how. as a true friend, I should be in there counselling him against being a moron. I told her that it was a lost cause and she laughed again.

 

I had my hands shoved into my pockets as we slowly made our way towards the tattoo parlor where our group was already gathered. I risked a sideways glance at her, not really wanting her to catch me staring at her, but kind of at the same time.

 

She had dressed up a little bit, at least for her. She wasn’t wearing sweats or those boyfriend jeans that were baggy and hung off her hips—which could also be sexy, since they exposed a long strip of her abdomen and there was something about fabric hanging off of those flared, perfect hips of hers that drove me absolutely crazy. Instead, she’d opted for skinny jeans—which I loved because she had the most perfect legs—and a thin t-shirt that was at least fitted and cut into a low V, showing off her lovely cleavage. Beyond that it was a pair of sneakers and her hair down, wild and hanging about her delicate shoulders.

 

That was one of the things I loved about Zelda. She didn’t have to wear a ton of makeup or wear fancy dresses or a lot of that junk that other girls did. All she had to do was be comfortable with herself and she was so striking that it stole my breath sometimes.

 

We made it to the shop in time to see Bobby start to sweat before the guy applied the needle. He squirmed and gritted his teeth, but I would give him credit: he didn’t cry.

 

A couple of the guys were disappointed and the girls were bored, whining and asking to do something fun. Zelda said little, because she was a little awkward in groups of people she didn’t know well, but she watched with interest and when she wasn’t watching she was walking around the room checking out the examples of tattoo designs.

 

She was standing in front of a butterfly when the other girls decided it was time to go. They asked her to tag along, but Zelda wasn’t interested in dress shopping, so she declined quickly. The door was closing behind the last girl when I came to stand just behind Zelda.

 

“Thinking of getting one?” I murmured quietly, leaning forward so that my mouth was close to her ear. I was expecting her to back away, because she was always cautious with me when I got too close, worried that I would push something romantic between us only to let it fall through the cracks.

 

Which I wouldn’t do, but try telling her that. I’d keep trying though.

 

She sucked in a quick breath, but for once didn’t sidestep to get a little distance between us again. “Maybe,” she answered coyly, not turning to look at me. I stepped a little closer, feeling bold and brave and maybe a little stupid, too. “What do you think?”

 

Swallowing, I shrugged, though she couldn’t see that. “I think you’re perfect whether you’re painted or a blank canvas.”

 

I heard her breathing hitch. She stayed silent for a long time and I was sure suddenly that I’d fucked it all up, but then she leaned back against me, her perky rear pressing ever so slightly into my crotch as her shoulder blades braced against my chest.

 

“So it’s my choice?”

 

“Yes,” I replied automatically, my hands going to her hips before I could think better of it. “Always.”

 

She looked over her shoulder at me, a slow smile spreading across her face. “Well, if I go and get one, I promise to invite you to watch.”

 

I leaned down to kiss her, lost in this perfect moment, but before our lips touched, Bobby cursed loud enough to grab our attention. She stepped away from me and I could have killed him.

 

We didn’t stay in the shop after that. Instead, we went to the bike shop and talked about Harleys and motors. She was surprisingly knowledgeable in the area and told me that I was being pretentious for sticking with the Harley brand. Why not a Suzuki? Or a Yamaha?

 

I told her it was un-American and she laughed.

 

We talked about other things, too. Weird things like poetry and the morality of large scale farming and whether or not the weather made people crazy. We joked about how politics were a joke, just a running sideshow there to provide everyone with some much needed entertainment. We talked about anything and everything and I realized that while I wanted her physically—I jerked myself off to thoughts of her more nights than I would ever admit and just standing with her now had my dick hard in my pants—I wanted the rest of her, too. She was the only woman I’d ever spent any time with that knew about bikes and about what was going on with the world, who had her own interests and wasn’t afraid to share her opinion.

 

I realized we connected in a way that I never had with anyone before. I knew then that I had to hold on to it, no matter what.

 

Except I’d fucked it all up and didn’t know how to get it back. When I’d seen Santos that night at Zelda’s, I’d lost my mind.

 

The thing with Zelda and Santos had come completely out of left field, blindsiding me until I was just filled with rage. Knowing that Zelda had broken up with me had eaten me alive inside. It tore me up pretty badly especially since I had five years to dwell on it. But no one had told me while I’d been on the inside that she had cozied up to Santos. Maybe if they had, I really would have lost my mind in there, it was definitely possible. But maybe I could have worked it all out in my head. Maybe I could have come to some sort of conclusion. Like she never would have done that to me.

 

It sounded like a long shot even in my own head, but I couldn’t shake the possibility that if I’d been given enough time, maybe I would have let myself believe that Zelda did truly and honestly, unquestioningly love me.

 

Or maybe I would have stewed on that hatred for the next five years and just killed them both when I got out. That was pretty likely, too, I admitted gravely only to myself.

 

As it were, getting out of the slammer only to find that Zelda had not only moved on, but she’d wound up with the man who had spent most of my life battling against me? Well, I didn’t think it was any wonder that I saw nothing but red. Fury had consumed me, the rage easier to deal with than the hurt and the heartache that came from losing Zelda.

 

Raking a hand through my hair, I knew what I had to do. Now that Zelda had confessed the truth to me, there was really only one option. I had to make things right.

 

I’d thrown my sweats back on, but hadn’t even bothered with a t-shirt. Glancing at the clock on the wall, I saw that it was nearly three in the morning. Early. Early enough that I debated letting Zelda get whatever sleep she could before I drudged all of this back up and tried to make it right. But then I remembered: Santos.

 

That bastard had slapped her more than a couple of times and if he caught her, there was no question in my mind that he’d do it again.

 

Especially if he realized who she’d been with.

 

“Shit,” I cursed, standing quickly from the couch. I grabbed my bag and pulled out a pair of jeans and a shirt. There was no way I could wait until morning to go to Zelda now, not knowing that Santos would wake up and get after her.

 

With a dark dread, I realized he might have already gone after her.

 

I cursed again, then shucked out of my sweats and jerked on my jeans, then my shirt. I was lacing up my boots as I worked out what to do next. Going after Zelda was all well and good, but Santos was going to be a problem. Even if he was still passed out on his couch somewhere, drunk as piss, he was still going to be a problem when he eventually woke up. And his guys would be a problem, too. I was going to need back up if I was going to protect Zelda.

 

Normally, this would be the point in time where I told Jackson to round up all the guys and get them on board with my crazy plan, whatever it might be. But since he was out of town I would need to make the calls myself. Which meant I had better get started.

 

I finished tying my shoes, then grabbed my cell phone and my keys. It was times like these where I wished I actually drove a car, because it wasn’t the most practical thing in the world to try to talk on a cell phone while riding a motorcycle. I’d have to make at least the initial call here.

 

I started with the Bobbys, explaining that we needed to meet to discuss the problem with Santos. They both said they would need around twenty before they could head out that way, so I told them to set it up for an hour from now—I was well aware that was four in the damn morning, but they could suck it up—and to make the rounds calling everyone they could get ahold of. They both agreed easily, and I was grateful that I wouldn’t have to waste more time trying to get ahold of everyone who was still loyal in the club.

 

I was about to get on my motorcycle and ride when I got a call. I frowned, looking down at the number. I had expected it to probably be one of my boys, either telling me that they couldn’t get ahold of someone or that they would be late to the meeting—I knew that some of them actually did have legitimate jobs that frowned upon being late or calling out. But it wasn’t a number I recognized.

 

I almost just ended the call, usually feeling that I didn’t need to talk to anyone whose number I didn’t already know, but for some reason I hesitated.

 

Something told me that I shouldn’t ignore this call.

 

Answering it, I slung my leg over my bike, readying myself to ride as soon as this call was through. “Hello?”

 

There was a distorted sound, then an all too familiar voice came over the phone. Santos DeArma. “Nester, my old pal.”

 

Just the sound of his voice made my skin crawl with a mixture of disgust and anger. I wanted to reach through the phone and strangle him, remembering the way Zelda’s beautiful face looked covered in bruises caused by Santos’s hands.

 

Not that I hadn’t caused my own damage to her.

 

“What the hell do you want, Santos?” I asked. I wanted to threaten him right then and there, to tell him that if he ever touched my Zelda again, I’d kill him, but it was too early to be playing cards like that. I needed a plan, and if I acted too rashly, then there was a good chance that Zelda would pay the price if I fucked it all up.

 

“Easy now,” Santos said, his voice too cheery, too chipper. It grated only my quickly fraying nerves. “You don’t want to make an enemy of me. Again.”

 

I actually laughed at that. “You’re the one who made us enemies, Santos. I never forced the issue on that. And last I checked, either way, we’re already enemies.”

 

There was a pause. Through the receiver I heard some muffled sounds, shuffling, grinding, something else. It made me wonder where he was—and why he was calling. Suddenly, I felt a tickle of fear somewhere low in my gut. Why was he calling? I wasn’t concerned with how he got my number or anything like that. Santos had the resources to do the right kind of research and probably all he really had to do was ask around before he found someone who would lead him straight to me. But why bother? Why was he suddenly interested in getting a hold of me?

 

“That may be true,” Santos continued in that same chipper voice. The one that told me he had some kind of leverage over me. I dreaded finding out just what that leverage might be. “But you should probably make more of an effort since I think it’s pretty obvious now that I have something you want.”

 

I frowned. Something I wanted? This was one of those moments where I knew I should already know what he was talking about. I should sense it or have picked it out, whatever. I should know. But it was as though I’d forcibly blocked that out, because my brain knew it was something bad. Something so bad that I might not be able to deal with it.

 

“What’s that?” I finally asked, dreading the answer but needing to know.

 

Santos laughed and I gritted my teeth against the sound. “You really don’t know? I always thought you were just that stupid. Poor, dumb Nester, never could get ahead of the curve, could you?”

 

His words were little jabs, more effective because I knew that whatever he said next would eat me up inside. Would eat me alive. I didn’t want to know, but I couldn’t hang up the phone on him, and more to the point, if I didn’t figure out what it was that he had, I was going to spend the rest of my life regretting it. Probably in prison for murder, too, since I would have to kill Santos when it was all said and done.

 

That much was obvious even now.

 

There was a smile in Santos’s voice as he said, “Zelda.”

 

For a long, impossible second, the world stopped. The idea of Santos getting his hands on her, of keeping her and hurting her brought me back to reality. “What do you want?”

 

There was a gleeful laugh that came through before he said, “I’ve had a lawyer friend of mine draw up a legal document for me. One that I’d like you to sign.”

 

That definitely didn’t sound good. “What document?”

 

“One that, like a confession, admits your direct culpability and involvement in the trafficking of drugs in our fair city. I want you to sign it, give it to the police, and confess—because it’s good for the soul—that you are the leader of the drug ring that has been selling the heroine which is so clogging our streets these days.”

 

I closed my eyes, sighing internally. That document would be the end of me if I really did sign it. I already had five years for a prior conviction and while I’d served my time, they’d take one look at what that charge was and be positive that I was guilty and that I’d do it again. Which would mean I’d get a sentence much longer than five years if I did as Santos requested.

 

Unfortunately, I also knew that I had no choice. Santos had Zelda and he wouldn’t hesitate to do terrible things to her if I didn’t comply.

 

“Fine,” I bit out. “I’ll sign your damn document, so long as you promise not to hurt Zelda and let her go.”

 

“Sure, sure,” Santos agreed amiably. I knew it was a boldfaced lie, but didn’t interrupt him as he promised me, “I’ll release her as soon as I have your signature.”

 

We talked a little longer just to hammer out the details. I demanded to speak to Zelda, but Santos wouldn’t do it. Instead, he took a picture and sent it to me, showing Zelda tied up and looking worse in the harsh lighting than I remembered her being the last time I’d seen her. It made my blood boil, but I did my best to keep my cool. No point in pissing off Santos when Zelda was the only one there to face his wrath.

 

Finally, we agreed to meet the following day. He had the document and would have me sign it right then and there. He’d make a copy—just so I didn’t try anything stupid—then give me one to take to the police. I wasn’t looking forward to doing that, but then I didn’t really plan on following through with it.

 

Just like Santos didn’t plan on letting Zelda go, whether I complied or not.

 

I hung up the phone and started up my bike. I still had time to make the meeting with the rest of the Berserkers and it was more important than ever to do that. I needed a plan before meeting with Santos, and if I wasn’t careful, it would all go wrong.

 

Part of me wished the meeting was pushed back a little. I could do wonders with a week, but the other part of me was relieved. I didn’t want Zelda to be stuck with that psychopath any longer than absolutely necessary.

 

“Hang on, Zel, I’m coming.”