Connor

 

After cumming to the thought of fucking Princess, I was proud to say that I was able to concentrate all day on my work without too much distraction. “I have more important things to do than worry about some stupid whore,” I kept telling myself over and over.

 

I had several meetings, took my bike for a ride to increase our presence on the roads, and even spoke to President Montengo. He showed up just long enough to say, “Everything’s going great. Keep up the good work, boys!”

 

It took every ounce of self-control I had not to pick up the financial report I had been working on that very moment and hurl it in his face.

 

To cool down, I took my bike out again and stopped at Joey’s place. It was an okay apartment, but the greatest thing about it was the enormous, four car garage he had attached. It was full to the brim with antique cars, all gleaming from Joey’s loving and multiple polishes, and when I arrived he was underneath a baby blue 1970 Mustang.

 

“Hey, Joey,” I called, and he jumped, dropping his wrench and emerging from beneath the beauty swearing and glaring at me.

 

“Hey, Connor,” he said. “What’s going on?”

 

I offered him a hand up, and then he cleaned himself off with a towel.

 

“Just needed a break,” I said, leaning back against another car—this one a Pontiac.

 

“Finances again, huh?” he guessed.

 

“Yup.”

 

Casually, I lit myself a cigarette, then handed him one.

 

We smoked in companionable silence for a while. As a member of the Devil’s Wings, I had dozens of allies and mentors. But Joey was one of the few I could actually count as my friend.

 

“How’s that new girl treating you?” He asked. “What’s her name … Princess?”

 

I shrugged. “I couldn’t tell you. I’m trying not to be distracted, you know?”

 

“Ha! Imagine that! Connor, world class stud, is learning!”

 

If another man had said that, I would have punched him. But with Joey, it was somehow okay.

 

“You ever think about … you know … leaving the Devil’s Wings?” he said at last.

 

I gaped at him, shocked. “Of course not! Once a brother, always a brother! Don’t you know that?”

 

“Of course, of course,” he sighed. “Under Sam Michaels, maybe. Or Garcia, the guy after him. But … does Montengo make you feel very brotherly? I don’t know. A club is supposed to look after their own, not just themselves.”

 

I let out a long, smoky exhale. He was right, of course, but …

 

“You know I can’t abandon the Devil’s Wings,” I said. “They took me in, you know? They were there when no one else was. Even if Montengo is a prick … the MC, it’s my family.”

 

“Yeah,” agreed Joey, and that was it. He took the cloth he had been rubbing his oil-blackened hands with and tossed it aside. “Maybe one day,” he said, “we’ll hit it big, and we can start our own fucking club.”

 

I laughed. “Damn right,” I said. It was a silly dream hie and I shared. And we both knew it.

 

There was not much room for silliness in a biker’s life.

 

I finished the cigarette and told him that I needed to get back to work. He wasn’t annoyed. He knew the job came first. I smiled at him, complimented his car, and then rode off.

 

By the time I arrived back at the motorcycle club, there seemed to be something going on. There were a bunch of bikes parked in the lot, but no one was outside, and, distantly, I was able to hear screaming.

 

Female screaming.

 

“Oh, Christ,” I muttered, then bolted inside.

 

A small crowd had formed at the base of the stairs--the ones leading up to the bunk room where Princess had been locked away. Now that I was inside, the screaming was louder, and I could tell that it was definitely female, and definitely her.

 

“What’s going on?” I demanded, charging up to the first Devil’s Wing I saw.

 

He shrugged. “Old Leo got tired of waiting for you to break in the new whore,” he said, “so he decided to break her in himself.”

 

Once more, a scream shot through the air like a wild bat, tearing down the stairs and scratching us all with its little claws. I felt my heart leap to my throat, for now I knew why she was screaming.

 

“That’s my fucking whore!” I bellowed, and charged up the stairs. There had been Devil’s Wings in the way. Now there weren’t. Though many were bigger than me, I had simply knocked them aside.

 

The door at the top of the stairs was open, the key hanging by a string from its lockbox. Normally, I would have been angry at this lax biker behavior, but at that point I was grateful. There was nothing standing in between me and the bunkroom.

 

I burst inside, and the scene which met my eyes made me growl with rage.

 

Broken shit was everywhere. Glass from the mirror, shredded lace, a shattered lamp. Leo, a mammoth of a being who was so large he needed to special order a bike to fit his fat ass, was crouched over by the far bunkbeds. He was laughing and sticking his hairy arm, the color of a raw sausage, deep into the wood frame of the bunks. For a crazy, stupid instant I thought of Winnie the Pooh, trying to swipe that last bit of honey of his honey jar.

 

But so, so much uglier.

 

There was another scream, this time from the bunkbeds, and in a flash I realized where Princess was.

 

Thin and willowy, she had been able to crawl up into the wooden, handmade framing of the bed and was now suspending herself there, just out of reach of Leo.

 

“No! No!” she screeched over and over. “I’m Connor’s. I’m fucking Connor’s, you hear me! I was promised to him!”

 

I heard just as much disdain and anger in her voice as I did fear. I liked that. This girl was tough.

 

Just then, I had a moment of clarity, and I saw Leo exactly for what he was: yet another biker wannabe, interested only in serving himself rather than the club.

 

Not a true Devil’s Wing.

 

I walked up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder.

 

“Hey, Leo,” I said, and he turned around, his red, stupid face gazing confusedly at me. I smiled and finished, “Why don’t you fuck this?”

 

Wham! I popped him, right in the jaw. There was a moment where all his extra skin rippled with the impact, like a pit bull hanging its jowls outside the window of a moving car. He toppled over onto his hip and gazed up at me, baffled.

 

“What the fuck?” he said. His jaw was red from where my fist had struck him. Well, redder.

 

“That’s my whore,” I said. “You were at the meeting. You heard Smitty. She belongs to me.”

 

He scowled, beady little eyes narrowing. “But you ain’t using her!” he protested.

 

I grinned. “Yeah, well, I’m saving it up,” I said. “Give her a proper welcome.”

 

There was a smattering of chuckles from the doorway, where a crowd of bikers, like a bunch of fucking school girls, was gathered.

 

A dark look overcame his bewilderment, like storm clouds covering a dull sun. Slowly, he rose to his feet. It was like a mountain standing up.

 

“And what if I think you’re just being a big, fat faggot?” He growled, glowering down from his tiny head’s massive perch.

 

I chuckled. That was the best way to take the wind out of the sails of a guy like this. Laugh at them. “A faggot?” I said. “Maybe. But you’re going to have to tell me about being big and fat.”

 

He blinked. Someone in the watching crowd let out a big guffaw, and then Leo blushed.

 

“Why, you …” he grunted, rearing back to hit me. I tensed, ready to slip aside from the giant bowling ball of a fist …

 

“Is there a problem here, gentlemen?”

 

Smitty! I whirled, and found Smitty, our Sergeant-at-Arms, standing alone in the doorway. The crowd had mysteriously disappeared.

 

Leo gaped. I blushed, knowing that I should have gone to Smitty instead of charging up here like a rooster ready to protect its hen. Then, just in time to complete the ridiculousness of the moment, Princess’s strength failed, and she fell down onto the bottom bunk. A second later she was up and standing behind me.

 

“No problem, Smitty, no,” Leo mumbled, bowing his head.

 

“Good,” said Smitty. “You should go rest up. You now have night-watch duty – ”

 

“Aw, man—”

 

“For the next two weeks. Now get out of here.”

 

He grumbled, then shuffled to the door and down the stairs. I had seen snow plows that moved with more grace.

 

“You, Connor,” Smitty said, turning to me. “You should know better than to leave a fresh whore lying around, especially with those idiots. Besides, don’t you remember what we talked about?”

 

I sighed. “Yes, Sergeant.”

 

“Good. Now, I suggest you take, uh, Princess here and bring her to your office. We’ll get one of the prospects to clean up in here. Got it?”

 

“Yes, sir,” I said, then thought privately, This. This is the sort of respect and disciple the MC needs. Not stupid, idiotic pricks like Leo.

 

I looked to Princess, who was watching the pair of us talk with almost rude fascination, and who snapped to attention when she saw me looking at her.

 

“To … to your office,” she echoed quietly. She knew what that meant. I wondered if she was upset. She’d certainly sounded avid to be my whore a fucking minute ago.

 

I, too, knew what that meant.

 

I seized her by the wrist—it would look dangerous to have grabbed her by the hand—and led her to the door and down the stairs.

 

I heard Smitty muttering behind me, “Fucking assholes. I liked that fucking mirror.”

 

And I could not help but smile.