Grace
“MAISIE?” MOM SAID, sobbing into the phone. “I’m so sorry.”
“Maisie! Mom has a gun!” I screamed, hoping my surrogate aunt would hear me.
My mother had locked us into the upstairs bathroom, and I was inside the tub, pinned against the wall, trying to shelter myself from the gun she waved between us.
“I can’t keep doing this,” Alison rasped.
I whimpered quietly, hoping not to draw her attention as she spoke with her best friend, Maisie.
“It’s all too much, Maisie, you know?” Mom rasped and aimed the gun toward me again.
“Maisie! Help! Oh, God, please!” I screamed, moving against the back wall in a futile effort to evade the gun.
“Do you remember that time we took the kids to the museum?” she asked.
Tears flooded my face as Mom talked about a memory from long ago. She’d completely broken free from reality and if I couldn’t get out of this room, I knew she was going to kill me.
“Ohmigod, yes,” she giggled manically.
“No, Mama, please don’t,” I begged.
I heard Maisie’s voice on the other line calling for her. “Alison?”
“Huh?
“Ali, love?” Maisie called again.
“Yes, I’m here.”
I relaxed just a hair as she listened to whatever Maisie said on the other end.
“I forgot about that,” Mom whispered. “Why don’t they wash those damned toys?”
I moved an inch to my right, further away from the angle of the gun.
“We had such good times, didn’t we?” Mom relaxed her hold on the gun slightly. “I’m so sorry, Maisie.”
I wasn’t sure if she was sorry for what she’d done in the past… or of what she was about to do.
“If I could take it back, I would.”
I bit my lip as she pointed the gun to her head.
“Goodbye Maisie.”
Bang!
“No! Mama! Ohmigod, why did you… you…! Mama, get up!”
* * *
I stood in my brother’s kitchen and downed a glass of wine, the memory of last night’s dream rattling around in my head. My mother had killed herself over ten years ago, but I was still dealing with nightmares, always made worse when I was stressed.
I’d graduated from college two weeks ago and had been home for almost a week. A very long week. My relationship with my brother was currently tentative, mostly because he chose my father over me, but as long as he didn’t talk about Dad, I could pretend I was still Merrick’s favorite and that he loved me best. Which was why I was staying with him until I could figure out what the hell I was going to do with my degree… and my life.
“Hey, sis,” Merrick said, shrugging on a leather vest (he called it a cut) as he walked into the room.
“Hey, Mer.”
“Finch,” he corrected.
I rolled my eyes. He was patching in to the Dogs of Fire and one of the bikers had given him the super special biker name, “Finch.” He said it was because Merrick always had his face buried in a law book. Accurate, considering this had been true since forever. Merrick was the quintessential nerd, only the football playing, poetry writing, computer programmer-type nerd.
“I’ve seen your bare butt when Dad spanked you… I’m not calling you ‘Finch.’”
“Grace,” he said, his voice low like he was all fatherly and shit. “This is important to me. You’ve been around everyone enough to feel comfortable, but I need you to at least give me the respect my patch affords.”
“Not sure I’m there yet, brother,” I admitted.
He smiled. It was a sad smile, but I acknowledged the effort. “Fake it.”
I nodded with a sigh. He was right, I was comfortable around the Dogs. My best friend, Poppy, was practically married to one, and her mother literally was. Hatch. The coolest man I’d ever met. He’d scooped me and Merrick up and took us back to the clubhouse the night of the incident, and the people there had helped to put me back together. Well, as together as a broken and fucked up twelve-year-old could be.
“You ready?” Merrick asked.
“Yep.”
“You sober enough to drive?”
“I’ve had one glass of wine. I’m good.”
He handed me a roll of Ritz crackers. “Eat.”
I raised an eyebrow. “When did you get so bossy?”
He ignored me, snagging my keys off the hook and handing them to me. I grabbed them and followed him outside. He climbed on his bike, while I slid into my car, opening the cracker packet before securing my seatbelt.
I followed him to the compound, excited to see Poppy, who I hadn’t seen in almost a week. Considering that up until three weeks ago, we lived together, I was going through some serious withdrawals.
* * *
Flea
Hatch handed me a beer and I gave him a nod of thanks. “Poppy comin’?” I asked, sliding the toothpick I’d been chewing into my pocket.
“Yeah. Sparky’s bringin’ her,” Hatch said. “Still not ready to wrap my fuckin’ mind around that one.”
“It’s happening, darling,” Hatch’s woman, Maisie said, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Figure it out quick.”
Hatch pulled her close and shook his head.
“Figure out what quick?” Poppy asked, walking into the kitchen, Sparky following.
Hatch held his free hand out and Poppy stepped into his embrace. “Nothin’, baby girl. You good?”
She grinned up at him. “I’m good, Sid.”
Pulling away from Hatch, she walked over to me and hugged me. “Hey, babe.”
“Hi, buddy.” She gave me a quick squeeze, then leaned back against Sparky who wrapped an arm around her from behind. “You married yet?”
I choked on my beer. “Uh, fuck no.”
Poppy grinned. “I can’t wait to meet the woman who makes that happen.”
I shook my head. “You’ll be long dead, Poppy. Never happenin’.”
She giggled, then looked over my shoulder, gasping as she made a run for the door. “Gracie!” she squealed.
I followed the flurry of activity and found I couldn’t raise my bottle to my mouth. My body locked, and my dick took notice of the drop-dead gorgeous woman pulling Poppy in for a sisterly hug. There was no way in hell this was Grace Lundy. The last time I’d seen her was about four years ago when she’d headed off to Atlanta for school with Poppy. She’d barely been eighteen.
And before that, she’d been the little girl whose mother had almost killed her…but turned the gun on herself instead. The little girl who’d fallen asleep on my shoulder that night as Hatch, Maisie, and I had watched a movie with the kids in an effort to keep her distracted. I’d wanted to protect her back then. Wanted to keep the demons at bay, but she had Hatch and Maisie, so I made sure she was okay from a distance.
Grace had always been a little girl in my eyes, but this woman who was lamenting the fact her best friend was too busy to hang out with her, was nothing less than stunning.
Long raven hair, eyes a deep blue, she made her way around the group, hugging everyone, and I was transfixed at the graceful way her body moved. Made sense, considering she was a ballerina, but I still couldn’t seem to look away.
“Hey Flea,” she said, and smiled up at me.
“Hey, babe,” I said, pulling her in for a chaste hug.
Fuck, her tits felt amazing against my chest. Since I couldn’t focus on that without embarrassing myself in front of my brothers, I released her so she could rejoin Poppy. While the reunion continued, I decided to get the fuck outta Dodge and find something stronger than beer to drink.
* * *
Grace
I half-listened to Poppy and Devon (Sparky) as they argued good-naturedly about… I don’t know. Something to do with burgers, I think. I’d lost the train of their conversation, because I was too busy watching Flea walk out of the kitchen. God, the man was pretty. Shaggy, dark-blond hair and hazel eyes, he was tall and muscular (at least, I imagined he was since his arms were sinewy and delicious).
I’d known him in the sense that he was always at the clubhouse when I was. He’d been one of the first people I’d seen when my life had imploded, and he was often at Hatch and Maisie’s since he worked for Hatch and they were tight. I’d always felt safe with him and I found myself seeking him out whenever he was close. I’m sure I seemed like the annoying teenager to him, but he was like a lighthouse, keeping me on the safe route back to myself.
I bit my lip and forced myself to focus back on my friend. Lusting after a man ten-years older than me was not something I had time for. I had to find a job, a place to live, and figure out how I was going to balance my ballet career with my life. I’d had an offer from the San Francisco Ballet to be a dancer, while working for a coveted principal spot, but the thought of leaving Poppy, and taking my crazy on the road, wasn’t something I was prepared to do. So now it was wait and see if Portland Ballet Conservatory offered me something similar. PBC was the most prestigious company in the pacific northwest and it was rapidly gaining popularity.
“We ready to do this thing?” the deep voice of the club president, Crow, echoed through the room.
Since I had no idea what ‘this thing’ entailed, I wasn’t sure if I was ready, but followed the crowd as they milled out the back of the building.
* * *
Flea
The sun was disappearing over the horizon and the sky was painted with swirls of deep blue and vibrant orange as Crow led all of us to the clearing around back of the compound, his arm around Finch’s shoulder as we walked.
“Everyone, gather ’round. Dogs, you know what to do.” Crow motioned to us, and I took one last pull from my beer before setting it down and forming a large circle with the other Dogs. We were now surrounding Finch and Crow, with the rest of the party’s guests standing behind us looking in. Finch was a good kid and I liked him a lot. He was smart, and level headed, but I was a little nervous for the guy, and I didn’t know how he’d handle what was to come next. Then again, maybe I just wanted him to be okay because I was suddenly very interested in getting on his sister’s good side. She was standing behind Hatch, opposite me, and I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
“We’ve all come here tonight, to watch young Finch receive his full member’s patch,” Crow announced to hearty applause. “In order for that to happen, first, Merrick needs to die.”
I saw Grace’s jaw stiffen, and once again felt a bit nervous for the kid. I nodded to Hatch, who gave a chin lift back. He and I were all-too familiar with the ritual of being patched in. Intimately familiar, in fact.
I noticed Darien removing her dog, Barney, from Flick’s arms. He tried to resist, but she scowled and held the dog closer to her body, rushing back inside. I couldn’t help but smile. Flick was one of the oldest members of the club. He’d come up with Crow and Hatch’s uncle back in the day, and he was a gruff old coot, but he’d fallen in love with Darien’s little fluffball of a dog, not to mention Darien.
“Tonight, Merrick will die, and Finch will be born in his place!” Crow shouted to more cheers while the young pledge stood grinning. “So, candidate Finch,” Crow said, turning his attention to the guest of honor. “Who will it be?”
Grace looked as if her “sister senses” were on high alert, as if she knew her brother was in some sort of danger. She wasn’t wrong.
Our club laws dictate that every full-time member must fight for their patch. The Dogs of Fire may not be a one percent club, but we knew how to handle ourselves, and wouldn’t hesitate to get involved if someone needed our assistance, even if that meant getting a little blood on our hands. To prove their courage, loyalty, and toughness, each new member candidate would first have to “bare-knuckle” box a brother of their choice, for three minutes. No shirts, no shoes, in the dirt. If the candidate won… meaning, they lasted the full three minutes… they were in.
The candidate’s selection of his opponent would say much about their character and toughness. Obviously, you’d want to choose someone in your weight class, and try to avoid anyone that would seem like an easy victory, not that you’d find any here, but you also wanted to prove you were up to a challenge.
“Which Dog will have the honor of handing you your patch?” Crow asked. I could see Grace relax a little at the sound of ‘handing you your patch,’ which made me feel a little bad as she’d soon know the truth about the deceptively cordial-sounding ritual.
Finch smiled wide and began to turn in place, making eye contact with each Dog. He locked on me for what seemed like a moment or two longer than the others, but then moved on. Smart move, as I had a few inches and pounds on him, not to mention a pretty impressive club record. Finch stopped a few brothers later and stepped forward before pointing to the least likely of opponents.
“You gotta be shittin’ me,” Train said with a hearty chuckle.
“Nope. I choose you. I’m calling you out, Train,” Finch said, backing up to give Train room to move into the circle, and he’d need a lot of room.
I looked at Grace and could see that she now fully understood what was happening, and she did not look happy. Instinctively, I broke away from my place in the circle and went to her. She had moved from her spot as well, moving toward me.
“You okay?” I asked through the low rumblings of the group.
“Not really,” she said, looking a little ill. “Why are they doing this? Why are they fighting?”
“Don’t worry, they’re just gonna box for one round,” I said, trying to sound reassuring.
“Like with boxing gloves and protective gear?” she asked hopefully.
“They wrap their hands, to protect their knuckles,” I said in a cheery tone, but it didn’t seem to put her at ease. “Look, it’s only one round, and I’m sure Finch will do great.”
“Train is twice his size. Why the hell did he pick him?” Grace asked.
“I think maybe your brother’s trying to prove something. He’s not the biggest guy here, and most of the Dogs probably tend to see him as more of the… academic type,” I replied.
“He’s going to get killed,” she said.
“Alright, brothers, Finch here has made his choice and Train will be handing him his patch if he can last three minutes in the circle, so let’s give them some room while their corner men finish wrapping them up,” Crow said.
Hawk was serving as Train’s corner man, and Hatch as Finch’s. As his sponsor, it was a given that the honor would be Hatch’s. He was lucky to have him on his side rather than squaring off against him like I did. Hatch just about whipped the shit outta me, but I hung in there till the end. I even gave Hatch a nice scar for his troubles. I always tell him it’s a good thing his pretty boy hair covers it up.
“Okay, Train, Finch, you both know the rules,” Crow said, standing between the two shirtless men. “When I blast this air horn, you both come out fighting, and good luck to you Finch.”
Crow blew the horn and Grace’s hand immediately went for mine, gripping it tightly. The two men in the center of our makeshift ring circled each other.
“Ohmigod, I can’t watch,” she said, burying herself into my chest. For a second, I froze, afraid to do the wrong thing. I was completely turned on by her touch, so I slowly and gently put one arm around her.
“It’s okay, I’m sure he’ll do… just fine,” I said in a tone that perhaps could’ve been a bit more convincing.
Finch opened by throwing two crisp jabs, each connecting with Train’s face. He’d clearly had some coaching, and his technique looked solid. From his footwork to his head movement, this kid was clearly no stranger to a boxing gym.
“There he goes,” I said excitedly, and I felt Grace’s body relax, ever so slightly.
Grace peeked out just in time to see Finch throw another blow, a big body shot that connected with a deep thud.
“See? Look,” I said, just in time to see Train smile, totally unfazed by the shot.
“Oh, shit,” Grace squeaked.
“He’ll be alright.”
The two men continued to circle one another with Finch throwing the occasional jab to find his range. It wasn’t like he could miss his target. Train was massive, both tall and muscular and at least two weight classes above Finch. I admired his balls for picking Train but wondered if he was really as smart as we all thought. Train would occasionally throw a lazy swat, like a barn cat playing with a field mouse, while Finch stayed busy, circling around his much larger opponent.
“Alright, enough fuckin’ dancing. Time to get to work!” Hatch shouted to his fighter, and Finch did as he was instructed, delivering a quick body, body, head combination that caused Train to stop smiling and take a step backward.
Finch moved in and delivered a stiff jab, followed by a right cross to the face of Train, creating a deep cut just over his left eyebrow, which immediately began gushing blood.
“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Grace said.
“It’s okay, it’s not your brother’s blood,” I said, as if that was somehow helpful.
Train examined his wound and momentarily looked down at his now blood-soaked wrap. A wave of panic washed over Finch’s face and Train advanced at him like a bull to a matador.
“Merrick!” Grace screamed, as her brother covered up to avoid a knock out hit.
However, rather than go for a head shot, Train delivered a crushing blow to Finch’s mid-section, stopping him in his tracks, and causing him to double over in pain. I winced, knowing he’d be pissing blood tomorrow morning. Train didn’t look pissed, so I knew the kid would live, but whatever was coming next wasn’t going to feel like a goodnight kiss, although it would likely put him to sleep for a while.
“Just one more minute, Finch! That’s all you’ve gotta do is last one more fuckin’ minute!” I yelled, as I held Grace tightly to my chest. The intoxicating smell of her hair made me want to take her into the nearest empty room and bury my cock as deep inside of her as I could.
Train hit Finch with a clean right hook that connected directly with his chin. His eyes rolled back in their sockets momentarily and his knees began to buckle. I think if Train had hit him with just one more pound of force, Finch would still be face down in the dirt to this day. It is this reporter’s opinion, however, that Train pulled his punch ever so slightly.
“Merrick!” Grace shouted, attempting to push through the circle of Dogs.
“Whoa, hold on there,” I said, pulling her away from the action. “What are you gonna do, beat Train up yourself?” I laughed.
Finch’s legs wobbled, giving way underneath him, but Train caught him before he went down, holding him up as if he were still fighting.
“The kid’s still in it!” Train yelled to an approving roar of the crowd. Train, blood pouring from his head, held Finch up for the next thirty seconds as he regained full consciousness. Just in time for Crow to blow the ending horn, and for Finch to receive his patch. As I stayed with Grace, the rest of the Dogs rushed Finch, holding him up and carrying him off to drink away his injuries.
“He did it. See, I told ya, nothin’ to worry about at all.” I smiled at Grace.
“I’m sorry for all the… ah… climbing all over you and such,” she said sheepishly, her head down slightly, her eyes looking up at me. I’d never seen anything so sexy in my entire life.
Someone grabbed me by the shoulder and shoved me into the crowd, and I lost Grace in the chaos.