…
Remy
Two Months Later…
It was a weird thing being dead.
I’d thought about it a lot, especially these last few years. It wasn’t so much of an “if” but more of a “when.” I just never thought I’d live through my own death.
After a few weeks of being bedridden, it felt damn good to be outside again. The asphalt was damp with midnight dew. I sat on the ground under the overhang against the wall of our motel room. I watched occasional taillights speed by the sleepy main road that blinked out as they turned the corner.
I don’t know if I actually died or not.
The last thing I remembered was pushing Star out of the way then hearing Bones’ gun fire. Everything after, that was extremely fuzzy. The things I did or said during that time were automatic or completely on a subconscious level. She had to fill me in on what happened at the taxidermy shop and getting my bug-out bag from Our Lady of Resurrections.
It was one thing to be saved from being killed, but to be brought back when the odds were hopeless was incredible. I guess at one point, she even stole an ambulance to keep me alive. It was hard to wrap my head around the thought of someone caring that much for me.
Every breath I drew now was because of her.
It was quiet, aside from the ambient hum of the city. I put my fingers on the concrete slab walkway and felt the vibrations of big things moving in the distance. I felt connected again.
We had holed up at the Cottonwood Castle, a shitty, one-level, white and teal, U-shaped motel complete with small room with a lumpy bed, stained carpet, and barred windows. Low-man’s Paradise. It was the cheapest place with weekly rates that Star could find, but I didn’t fault her for it. She had done the best she could do given the crazy situation.
It was two-thirty in the morning, and I couldn’t sleep. I needed to be outside for a while to get my bearings and clear my head. The chill in the air necessitated more than just the T-shirt I was wearing, but I just couldn’t force myself into that scratchy, yellow-green Christmas sweater that Star got me. It made me look like a late-February pine tree lying by the curb.
I almost wasn’t able to get out of bed to come outside. Not just because of the constant pain that radiated throughout my fixed-up, ventilated holes, but because Star was lying next to me. I’d forgotten how warm and comfortable it was to sleep next to the same person in an actual bed for more than one night.
It was peaceful, something I’d abandoned a long time ago.
It had been years since I was able to let my guard down enough to sleep without having to worry about what might’ve been gone in the morning. Not that I had a lot of stuff to begin with, but I did typically carry a lot of cash on me. My philosophy was always: If someone could take it from me, then they deserved it more than I did.
That wasn’t the case anymore. Everything had changed. During my recovery, I was disgustingly useless. Star was the one that kept the wolves at bay. All I could do was exist. I practically slept all the time now. I’d been so tired from the recovery that my sleep schedule was all jacked up. Sometimes, I’d lay awake in the middle of the night just to feel her next to me. Her arm always wrapped around my chest while she was asleep, like she was trying to shield me from being shot like she couldn’t the first time. She was afraid she might lose me.
Her pressure over my wounds hurt, of course, but I embraced that pain. I was glad it hurt. Pain was familiar and safe, a constant companion of mine that assured me I was still alive. It was the other thing that frightened me.
I’d stopped being worthy of love years ago.
To have someone care about me despite the man I’d become was intimidating. It made me anxious and worried that I wouldn’t live up to her expectations. I wanted more than anything to be able to storm back into that room and declare an undying love for her like in a Shakespearean play, but I wasn’t hard-wired that way.
The man I wanted to be was within arm’s reach, but also a million miles away.
I balled up my fist in frustration and pushed it into the concrete beneath me until the skin on my knuckles started to crack and bleed. I didn’t know love in any other way that wasn’t also pain. I was furious at myself for not being able to trust her completely.
She brought me back to life! What else would it fucking take?
I lit a cigarette to settle my nerves. Once the smoke hit my lungs, a familiar calm washed over me. The clicking of the lighter, taking a few minutes out of my day to reflect or to focus on what needed to be done. Smoking was a ritual for me. I knew it was a crutch, but it did clear my head.
There was a scooter parked next to one of the motel room doors. It was chained to one of the windows. It needed to be in this area. Hell, even I was half-tempted to throw that tiny, joke-of-a-bike over my shoulder and pawn it. Looking at the brightly-colored Vespa just pissed me off and made me miss my Ninja that much more.
If Rocks had lived, I’d have killed him for what he did to my beautiful bike.
When I first got that bike, Top busted my balls about it relentlessly. Whenever we had local club bullshit that needed doing, he’d ask me if I’d be riding my Butterfly that day. I painted it all black a short time later, but it didn’t help.
He dubbed it Black Beauty. But that ribbing was just around the club. If any non-member had the balls to say shit about my bike around him, Top would’ve busted his fucking nose. Top saw me disconnecting from the club, hell from everything for a long time, but Star was his catalyst to finally act.
There was no getting around it, Top did some horrible, unforgivable shit, and there was no excusing what he tried to do to Star. But he was still my brother. I also understood that idle rage and grief could make a man lose his fucking mind. It was plain to see that he was lashing out because of Bren’s death.
With Todd dead, he had no one else to blame for our brother’s killing but her. He tried to rape her when I brought her to Muse’s so I’d see her as just another whore and lose interest. Then he tried to have her killed because she was the only witness to me murdering Todd.
If Star escaped, she could’ve sent me to prison for a long, long time.
I knew what he was trying to do and I would always love Top because he’s my last remaining blood brother, but what he attempted to do to Star, regardless of the reasons, was inexcusable. He’d have to pay for that somehow before things could ever be right between us.
I thought about what Star meant to me now, and I honestly didn’t know a gesture that would be big enough to fix things. I exhaled a long plume of smoke, feeling frustrated that I’d lost both my brothers.
I missed Tee and the other guys, too. It hadn’t been that long since I’d seen them. What? Two months maybe? Even before all this with Star, ever since Maria had been killed, I’d been distant for a long time. I’d taken some time away from the club after that. The guys gave me some space then, but I was still a member and they were always just a phone call away.
Not anymore.
This was different. I’d never been this far outside before.
After what Bones did to me, everyone thought I was dead so Deadeye called off the kill teams. We would have to be careful, of course, but with Poet officially dead, Star and I had a chance to actually live.
I glanced back at our motel room door. It was slightly ajar. The image of Star sprawled out asleep on the bed, comfortable and safe after all she’d been through these last several weeks, warmed me to the core. But also, here I was – broke and broken with no civilian skills or future.
I didn’t deserve her. But there she was, by my side with nothing to gain. How could I not trust her completely? She was the Bonnie to my Clyde, as she loved to say.
I’d do it all again if I had to. Leaving the club, getting shot, all of it, just to be with her.
Star was worth it ten times over.
Now I was dead, well, at least that’s what both the Lobos and the Veins thought. It was a fucking miracle that either of us survived that mess. We were free to start over to have a normal life.
Star asked me once why we didn’t just leave all this. I still felt obligated to my brothers, and to the Veins that I remembered growing up with. I told her that she gave me the strength to be the scalpel, to remove the cancer that had grown in my club. But after the meet with Bones went tits up, I started to realize that maybe I had it all twisted. Star was right. I would always love my club, but maybe I wasn’t the man to fix things. They tried to have me killed. Granted, I did kill the national president’s shithead son. Well, the club could take care of itself. So what was the point of trying to sort things out on my own? My plan was insane. It would never work.
If I were being completely honest with myself, despite even having Star, I was scared to give that life up fully. It was the only thing I’d ever been any good at. I used Star as both an excuse to get out and a reason to stay in. Deep down, I knew I had been spineless. Look at what that got me – a chest full of lead at the Beaner Hotel.
All the shit I was trying to do was for the club – fighting Lorenzo’s kill team, starting a war, pretending to be a traitor... It was all for the wrong reasons. Waking up on Dr. Mengele’s steel table put a lot of things in perspective for me. Cut open, half alive, all my sins were laid bare. I finally understood, and I prayed for death. It would be easier to die than face my own cowardice.
But sitting here with my head against the wall, I was glad to be alive for the first time in so long. I had Star to thank for that. Not just because she dragged me out of the Lobos clubhouse, but because she gave me a reason to live. Through the drugs, I caught some of her conversation with Doc.
She did whatever it took to help me.
How could I possibly give up, knowing someone cared for me as much as she did? It wasn’t often that I got a second chance, and this was even better. This was a completely clean slate with a girl who meant everything to me. I would do whatever it took to do right by her. Even if that meant leaving the Steel Veins behind forever. We were alive and had each other.
Four drunks burst out of O’Malley’s, the motel bar. One stumbled to his knees and threw up all over his friend’s pants.
This was our happily ever after, all right.
“Remy?” came the tired voice as the door cracked open further. The parking lot lights lit her disheveled form. She’d picked us up some clothes from a Goodwill in the area, but still kept that goofy cartoon cat shirt to sleep in. She said it was her lucky shirt.
Who was I to argue with that?
“Are you okay?” she asked, matting down her bed-head mess of hair. Her eyes behind her askew glasses were squinting as she slowly adjusted to the outside lights, and she had lines on her face from a crease in the pillow.
She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. How did I ever get this lucky?
“Better than okay now.” I owed it to her to at least try the white picket fence thing. She’d had enough danger for one lifetime.
Star clumsily dumped herself next to me and carefully rested her half-asleep head on my good shoulder. The ground was rough and filthy, the wall was uncomfortable, chipped stone and the whole parking lot in front of us faintly reeked of old piss, but I hadn’t been as happy as I was right then in as long as I could remember. Just having her next to me made everything a little brighter. It also helped with the smell.
Which was why I was distraught to have to tell her to leave.
The drunks that had been thrown out of the bar saw us and were heading over. Nothing good was going to come from having her out here with me, and I didn’t think she could help me up and get me back inside fast enough. She protested at first but reluctantly went inside when I told her to trust me.
I think part of me needed to see how this would go. After being inactive for so long, I needed a test.
“Hey, buddy! Got a smoke?” asked the drunk with his friend’s vomit drying on his pants who also wore a button-up red flame shirt.
I handed him a cigarette. These guys were so hammered.
“That bitch at the bar was all over my nuts, bro. I’m here to see if I can get back in. You guys, you guys think...” the guy who did the vomiting said. It sounded like he’d lost interest in what he was saying or just altogether forgot about it. “Fuckin’ douchebags kickin’ us out? What? What? Our money ain’t good enough there? I thought this was fuckin’ ‘Merica.” After several muttering attempts, Flame Shirt finally lit his cigarette. He then remembered something extremely important. The cigarette fell out of his mouth as he whipped around toward the bar and screamed with all his might, “Fuckin’! Nazis! Go back to fuckin’... Fuck you! Fuckin’ assholes!”
“Why ya ain’t got… no shoes, friend?” Another drunk asked me through a series of burps. “It’s outside, out here.”
“Hey! Where’d that hottie go? She was just here?” the last drunk asked.
I stayed quietly and watched them carefully. These boys were a powder keg, and with Star on the other side of that door, I wasn’t about to start throwing around any matches. I wouldn’t be throwing down with these guys either. Hell, I could barely stand without help. Between slamming into that school bus and Bones’ parting gift, just breathing hurt most of the time. I didn’t survive all that shit just to be kicked to death by drunks.
“I still wanna party. You wanna party with us, No-Shoes Guy?”
“She was hot!”
They all looked similar enough and overlapped each other in conversation that I could barely keep track of who said what. Not that it mattered. When people got this drunk, they all turned into basically the same person.
And I was very familiar with dealing with that guy.
Almost on cue, Star cracked the door open behind them. She had my gun in her hand.
I subtly shook my head.
The seriousness in her eye flashed intently. She was ready if I needed her.
It struck me just how different she’d become. I cracked a grin and motioned with my head for her to go back inside. Stubbornly, she finally did although I knew she’d be watching through the curtains to make sure I was okay. The last thing we needed right now was to have the cops come sniffing by because we killed some drunks in self-defense. There was another way to handle these assholes.
“I’m glad you guys think my brother is pretty. I’ll let him know,” I said.
Their expressions turned to horror.
“It’s cool, he’s gay. I can go get him if you still wanna party.”
“Oh fuck, dude! That’s gross!” Flame shirt jerked backwards. His lip curled as if a skunk had just sprayed him.
“Don’t be racist, dude. That’s not cool.” The guy wearing blue shorts shoved Flame Shirt.
“Nah, man. It’s—” Flame Shirt put an arm around Blue Shorts like he was his bestest friend in the whole wide world. “No hate. No hate. I gotta friend who’s gay. Dude, wants ta suck dick and shit, that’s cool. Ain’t me! Ain’t me, man. You know. I fuckin’ loooooove the pussy, you know.” Flame Shirt stuck his tongue out, sloppily lapping up make-believe pussy.
“If you still wanna party, I know this bangin’ house party, like six-seven blocks that way.” I pointed up the street toward a police station. “It’s where all the college hunnies go after the bars let out.”
“Aw shit, motha fuckas!” The other kid who did the vomiting got excited and started shaking his buddies. “Let’s do this shit! Yuh! Yuh! You comin’?” He looked at me.l
“Nah, I’m gonna kick it here and fuck my brother,” I said, seeing if any of them caught it.
They didn’t.
“The party is right across from the police station, so you gotta be quiet about it. It’ll look real low key, but that’s only ‘cause of the cops across the street. Just go around back and knock real loud. Someone’ll let you in.” I put out my hand, and one of them helped me up.
They thanked me, gave me elaborate and horribly sloppy daps then stumbled off.
“Your brother, huh?” Star came back out with a smug smile once they were far enough away, the gun stuffed in her pajama pants. She draped her arms on my shoulders. “Funny, I don’t remember seeing you next to Grandma Olga in those God-awful family portraits we took every year.”
“They gave me a pass because of the sweater I was wearing.” I shrugged, staring into pretty hazel eyes that were much more awake. “Said they already had a Christmas tree in the shot and they didn’t need a second one.”
“Are you mocking the clothes I bought for you?” Star scoffed, feigning insult. “There wasn’t much of a selection. Nothing jumped out at me that screamed bad ass, bedridden biker, sorry.” She traced around the wound on my cheek.
I’d taken the bandage off a few days ago and saw that Doc Frankenstein had surprisingly done a decent job at patching me up. The cut was healing up nicely, but I was going to be a left with a wicked scar. “Nah, I’m just bummed we couldn’t find you an Easter sweater to wear with me.” I smiled dismissively.
“I guess I’ll just have to take solace with my cartoon cat T-shirt.” Star leaned back and stretched it out so that we could both see the picture in all its glory. She then fluffed out her tangled, just-woken-up hair. “Besides, when have you ever had a nurse who looked this good that also gives you blow jobs?”
I thought about it a second then opened my mouth to reply, but she cut me off with a finger over my lips. “Don’t you dare answer that,” she warned.
I cocked my head to the side and playfully nipped at her finger until she pulled it away. I jerked her body against mine and kissed her neck. When I felt the pistol she was wearing press into me, I leaned away to check it before I snatched the gun from her pants and held it up. Just as I thought, the safety was off. The last thing I needed was another ventilation hole. “This is the safety. Always keep it on until you want something to die,” I lectured, thumbing the safety back on. “Understand?”
“Yes, sir!” She mock-saluted me.
“I don’t think you do.” I slipped a finger beneath her belly button to the elastic waistband of her panties and slowly pulled them forward to steal a peek inside at her clean-shaven pussy. It piqued my appetite. I dragged the flat of my tongue along the gun’s slide and lowered it back into her pants.
I had to teach this girl a lesson.
She quivered at the coldness of the wet steel as the gun traveled down into her panties against her soft skin. The corners of her mouth peeled her lips back revealing two rows of clenched teeth. I twisted the gun so that the corner of the long metal slide and ejection port rubbed her clit as it passed.
When the tip of the barrel pushed into the bottom of her panties, I angled the handle toward me which pulled the whole length of the pistol between her tender crease.
Star arched her eyebrows and quickly scanned to make sure no one else was around. Satisfied, she let her head loll back and closed her eyes.
I dragged the handful of fabric down to touch her with more steel. I could tell that Star’s juices were flowing when the metal slid back and forth easier. I pumped the gun with a disjointed rhythm. Long, slow grind, stop, then quick, smooth drag.
I teased her with the tip of the barrel. The blunted front sight and muzzle threatened to plunge in. She put her head against mine, clawed her fingers up the back of my scalp, and tensed into a low moan. I cruelly slid the tip down and away, but kept the pressure against those smooth lips.
Click. I turned the safety off.
Star gasped and jerked away slightly, her eyes sprung open in disbelief. At this angle, she’d have been safe even if the gun went off, but I doubted she knew that for certain.
“Be a good girl and turn the safety back on,” I told her with only the ghost of a grin. She tried to pull away to get a better look at the gun, but I pulled her in closer with my free hand so she couldn’t see it all. “No cheating.”
Star gently walked her fingers over my hand then down the handle. Careful to stay away from the trigger, she found and slowly flipped the lever for the safety, activating it with a click.
She sighed in relief, then bared her teeth at me. “Remy Daniels, You are such an asshol—”
The gun now safe, I turned it over and pushed the tip of it into her pussy, this time at a better angle so that it could actually slide in.
“Ugh!” Her eyes threatened to pop out of her head. “Oh, fuck!” She stared at me in excited shock but never asked me to stop, so I didn’t.
I eased it in deeper. She was so wet. Seeing her brimming with fear and yearning but with absolute trust in me was almost too hot to bear. My cock was hard enough to split my jeans and stab her. I pulled the gun out of her.
Her back hunched, and she draped herself over me, relieved but short of breath from excitement. “You fucking monster,” Star whispered in my ear. “I want you so fucking bad.”
The wet gunmetal glistened in the white floodlights from the parking lot. Locking eyes with her, I brought the tip of it to my lips and tasted it “Mmm... Much better.”
She dragged her bottom lip past her biting teeth. She unzipped my pants, put a hand through my boxers to grab my rigid cock, and used it as a handle to pull me into the hotel room. She slammed the door shut behind us.
Extremely turned on, she forgot how bad my injuries were and threw me onto the bed.
White hot fire streaked through my ribs and chest at the impact.
She gasped. “Oh shit, Remy are you—”
I held up a hand to stop her concern. I exhaled and let the pain die down, then smiled. I deserved that for the gun stunt.
I’d lain next to this woman for weeks and hadn’t been able to touch her the way I wanted to. Pain or no pain…that ended now.
Everything was slower than I would have liked, but I eventually got my damn shirt off. She looked me over. I was all tattoos and a patchwork of scars and stitches, making me feel a little like Frankenstein’s monster. At this point, my body was a roadmap of a life with heavy consequence.
And Star was pure, smooth, soft, sexy, especially when she peeled off that silly cat shirt. I yearned for her. My dick couldn’t have been any harder.
Her body screamed for my touch.
She dropped her bottoms and walked around to the side of the bed near my head.
“You got me all revved up. You sure you’re up for this? I don’t want to hurt you,” Star teased, standing there, touching herself. Flicking, pressing, rubbing... “Why don’t you just watch me instead?”
Star’s pussy was so close that I could taste her scent. It was torture. “Fuck that.” My eyes burned for her. When I couldn’t refrain any longer, I grabbed her and pulled her over me onto the bed. My chest screamed at the torqueing motion, but her soft, tight pussy beckoned for me.
Everything else I pushed out of my head.
I had her arms pinned. My legs on the outside of hers with my raging cock pressed over her pussy. Slowly, I plunged into her inviting puffy nipples first. I bit down on the hard nub and craned back, stretching her tit toward me while rolling my tongue around the tip. I studied her face to find the line between delight and discomfort, and right when she wanted more, I released her. I put one of her legs on my good shoulder, spreading her wide before me. I squeezed her thighs, and sank my teeth into her calf.
Star propped herself up so that she could get at me better. She licked her palms and furiously stroked my cock. My mind swam as she squeezed my shaft tighter. Her every digit worked up to and over the ridge of my sensitive head, then down and back again. Both hands milked me, moving in tandem – one at the top and the other at the base – incredible sensation flooded through every inch of my dick.
She was unraveling me.
“Please,” she moaned.
I wanted to toy with her more, but after wanting her like this for so long, I couldn’t stop myself. I jerked my cock out of her hands, slapped her pussy with it, then dragged the tip along every one of her slippery bumps and folds. When neither of us could bear to be apart any longer, I thrust into her.
Star cut off an escaping scream which became a lips-pressed moan. She was soaked, open, and ready for me. I didn’t ease in. I wasn’t gentle. Fuck foreplay, this was sweaty, pent-up obsession that demanded release.
I wanted my cock to cut her in half.
Every thrust contorted me, racking a new part of my body with aches or sharp discomfort. My body was an orchestra. It played pain like a symphony. The agony in my ribs was the brass section. My chest wounds pulsed like the beating of drums. My shoulder and spine ricocheted pain like a set of goddamn symbols.
My body was on fire.
But behind the agony—was the fuck. This unbridled lust for the most amazing woman I’d ever known. It lit me up, and that only made me want her more. Pain was nothing compared to how much I needed her.
Star was my rib-shaking bass line, that rhythmic thrumming that rattled my soul. It reverberated outward through each limb. It drowned out every other screaming instrument. Her pussy was the note that kept me grounded in ecstasy.
Only between her thighs was I truly alive.
Star’s smooth curves, the softness of her skin... I was infatuated, rocked with pleasure. I ravished her. I buried my cock into her as deeply as I could, and she crushed me from the inside.
“I’m coming! I’m coming!” she cried out, frantically rubbing her clit and watching along as I slid in and pulled out of her over and over with thunderous rhythm. If anything, I only rammed my cock into her swollen pussy faster, harder.
The pain made my eyes water, but it felt too amazing to stop.
“Remy!” she managed to blurt in between breathy gasps. “Your chest…”
I was bleeding. I had felt the skin tear, and one of the wounds reopen a while ago, but I didn’t care. The blood ran down my chest like lava and I was so close.
“Remy!” she repeated again.
I came like a cannon, coating her stomach as I pulled out. The release and exhaustion physically dropped me to the bed beside her. Everything that was muted before roared up with a vengeance. I didn’t cry out or grunt, but Star could sense my anguish.
“Oh shit! How bad is it?” Star was worried but calm, as she’d seen far worse by now. She immediately rolled out of bed and turned on a light.
“Just the one.” The stitches on the wound closest to my heart ripped out. I took the casing off a pillow and applied it as pressure to stem the bleeding.
“What can I do?”
“Take the car, hit up that TSC store out on the highway. Go to their veterinary afterwards and grab a few suture kits, gauze, tape, and betadyne – that ugly brown stuff that stains like fuck.” I scanned around me. The place was filthy to begin with, and fucking the way we did didn’t do it any favors. I was covered in blood, becoming an advertisement for any opportunistic infection. “Pick up something to clean all this shit up. We tend to make a mess of things.”
“You want me to sew you up? Are you sure? I’ve never done anything like that before.” She wiped herself down and started to dress.
She appeared nervous, but I knew she’d be able to handle it. It really wasn’t that big a deal. “Sewing cloth and sewing skin isn’t all that different. Same principles apply. It’s actually kind of hard to fuck up once you got rolling. You never put the safety of a gun on before either. You learned that pretty fast.”
Star had wiggled her pants halfway up when she paused to look at me.
Such a god dammed sexy sight. Had I been less broken, I’d have had her wiggle them back down.
She stood there a moment at a loss for words, wearing a mask of disbelief and feigned outrage. Eventually, her mischievous smile betrayed her and her resolve broke.
She loved it and she knew that I knew she did.
“You’re lucky you have a cute ass. It’s the only reason I tolerate you.” Star then kissed me.
“Have you seen this mug?” I playfully tapped my cheek scar. Oddly enough, lying on the bed covered in blood, stitched up like a voodoo doll, my cheek was the only part of me that wasn’t screaming with pain. “I’m pretty all over.”
“You sure you’re all right? We haven’t talked much about what happened at the Lobos clubhouse.”
“I don’t know how much there is to talk about,” I deflected. “Five bullets pretty much sums up my experience there. Three stars on Yelp. Would not recommend.”
“Remy!”
“Listen,” I exhaled. Why’d we have to ruin a perfectly good evening rehashing the past? “What happened, happened. I’m just sorry you had to be there to watch it all go down.”
“If I hadn’t been there, you’d probably be dead.” She frowned as she slipped on her shoes and stood up.
There was no probably about it, I would definitely be dead.
“Yeah. I owe you one.”
“Technically two, but who’s counting?” She shrugged, letting the tone lighten back up.
“Apparently you are. I think that actually makes us square.” I chuckled darkly, leaning my head against the bed’s rickety headboard. “Either way, let’s not make a habit of that.”
“Hey.” Star walked over to my side of the bed, her tone a tender reminder that she cared. “You know I’m with you until the end of the road, right?”
“I know.” I wiped the blood off as best I could and grabbed her hand. “I’ll get us through. I promise you.”
“We’ll get us through, Remy.” She squeezed my hand.
There was fierceness in her grip and her tone that I loved more than anything. I nodded. Star had proved to me that she was tough enough for anything this life could throw at her. She wasn’t that innocent, pretty piece-of-ass wasting away at a gas station anymore.
She was so much more now.
“Go. I’ll be okay.” I brought her hand to my lips and kissed her knuckles.
Star looked me over another minute then slipped on a light jacket and left.
Some time later, I slowly rolled off the bed and rummaged through my duffel bag. The bag was a lot lighter than I’d remembered. After paying Doc, getting this motel, and a few other things, there wasn’t much cash left.
Apparently, we’d be getting a clean slate from money as well.
We’d have to fly below the radar in Lobos country a little while longer until we had the cash to start new somewhere more neutral, and I was fit enough for the journey. Star had already scouted the area for some waitress jobs. I’d pick up something temporary, too, when I was back on my feet. I had money, but most of it was stashed in my room back at the clubhouse. Not a place I should be showing up to any time soon. Who knew if it was even still there? Probably wasn’t.
Once a member dies, unless there’s a will or next of kin, any money he had, goes right back into the club. To them, I was dead and the club knew where my safe was. It wasn’t like I had to hide the money from them while I was alive. While I was a member, I could rest easy, knowing that no one ever went into my room while I wasn’t there. At least not without a search warrant.
I found what I was looking for in the bag. A bottle of whiskey. I sighed when I realized it was Old Crow Reserve. It’d been a long time since I put together this stash. In a bag with over twenty grand in cash and some hardware, I had put in a ten-dollar bottle of whiskey.
God damn, I was such a stupid kid back then.
“Now you’re just a stupid adult.” I snorted, considering the condition I was currently in.
I climbed back onto the bed and drank my whiskey. I tried wrapping my head around what a legit life with Star was going to look like. Part of me was worried that I couldn’t hack going straight. Worried that all I was good at was putting two wheels on the ground and putting out fires. I was willing to try though. For Star, I would try anything.
How bad could it really be? I mused. People went legit all the time.