16.

Elise

 

The city life. I miss it. Big cities come alive in a way Thornbriar isn’t and never could be. And bonus, it takes me away from the bad juju Beau and I have swirling between us. One of the things I loved so much about Chicago, Nashville has, too. The buzz. The hum. That thing which makes a city, a city.

He gets mad, but doesn’t stop to consider all I’ve given up to be with him.

I turn into one of the numerous parking lots around the city and pay my fifteen dollars to park. Slinging my purse around my shoulder, I flip down the vanity mirror so I can finger comb my hair that Blaze mussed, then get out press the key lock, and set out to walk the busy streets. There are catcalls and flirty eyes from men holding doors for me. It feels good, like I’m getting more of myself back. The me before my world fell apart, and I mentally imploded. Unfortunately all I can hear is Beau’s voice in my head, ruining the buzz for me. What I hear is Beau in the bathroom at Moe’s bar. “There are consequences for your actions, Elise.” Maybe I shouldn’t have worn these jeans without him. Wait, no. I’ve never had to answer to anyone for what I wear and I’m not going to start now.

As I walk, contemplating all this, I eventually come up on a Starbucks, yay! where I go inside to wait in the not too long, not quick enough order line. After ordering my mocha frap and a chocolate muffin, I sit at a table by the window watching people walk by.

It’s all good for about twenty minutes until I see a man leaning against a parking meter. He’s tall, black hair, good looking enough, and has targeted me, standing right outside the window. Not that I plan to act on his attention, but when he catches my eye and winks, I’m glad I wore my good top. There might be a puff to my chest watching him lean against a parking meter watching me. Damn those bedroom eyes, serious bedroom eyes. Different from any of the other men of Nashville today holding doors or whatnot, he’s a bad boy. And let’s just say, those eyes and the vibe he gives off takes him from good looking enough to seriously hot. Yowza. I’m liking how this day has turned out.

Of course, I’m with Beau, but I spent so many years cloistered from all but the fringes of humanity, the attention feels nice, warms me. The apples of my cheeks heat. This is innocent flirting, right? Nothing to cause any permanent damage in my relationship with Beau. It’s fun, the game we’re playing, where I get to be slightly naughty and he’s broody and kind of dangerous. Because of it, I venture another look.

He continues to look, staring really. Only now I’m not so sure about the hotness quotient. Like really not sure. His stare, it’s a new stare, different from the one of two seconds ago. Or maybe not new, maybe I’m just now paying enough attention to recognize this stare gives a flutter to my belly, but in the so not in a good way way. More, the look away slowly to not look like he’s kind of freaking me out way. So I drop my eyes from his, now playing the role of a demure, otherwise occupied Elise. I turn away and notice for the first time, this black haired, used to be hot now downgraded back to merely good looking enough man wears a cut.

Shit. What now? He’s not someone I’ve ever seen before. He a Lord? Coincidence that he’s from a different club entirely? Could he be Horde? Since I don’t want him to know he freaks me out, I keep my head down pretending to check something on my phone. When I chance another glance back, the man is gone.

Pure, unadulterated relief washes through me for about five seconds, or until the front door to the Starbucks opens and the black haired, cut-wearing man along with three of his buddies step inside. I know they’re his buddies because they’re all three wearing cuts, and on the back of those cuts, patches. Bedlam Horde.

Worst. Luck. Ever.

Trying and hopefully not failing to not show panic, I send off a quick text to Beau.

Me: Might been right. SRY I caused U such trouble.

Him: Elise?

Me: PRBLY not coming home. Ever. Horde. Everywhere.

Him: Fuck! In public? Don’t move. Fuck!

Me: Starbucks.

Him: I know. Tracking location.

“This seat isn’t taken?” The black haired Horde asks me in not exactly a nice tone but probably the nicest he’s ever used. Now I don’t think he’s even so much good enough looking as scary enough, because he’s right next to me.

“I’m finished here,” I tell him, lightly, calmly. As if I don’t have a care in the world by recognizing the threat he brings to mine. “You and your friends can have the table.” When I stand to leave, he clamps a hand around the back of my neck, pushing me back down into the seat.

“Not so fast, sweetheart. Someone wants to speak with you.”

“I’m not from around here.” I try to play it off. “So you must have the wrong girl. I have one of those faces.”

“Oh, Elise. What was Bossman thinking, letting his piece take off alone? Always thought he was smarter than that.”

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

When I try to stand up again, instead of a hand, I feel the blunt end of cool steel against my back.

“I’d rethink that decision, sweetheart.” He warns.

He’s right. I rethink it and sit back down.

“Good girl.”

My eyes close for quiet contemplation, mainly reflecting on what an idiot I am and even though he’s made some really backward comments today, Beau is a good man and I think I’m ready to admit I love him. Sad that he won’t get to hear those words from me, that we’ll never get our shot to really be Elise and Beau because as I stated earlier, I’m an idiot.

I continue to lament my life choices with my eyes squeezed tight. If bodily harm comes to me, I don’t want to see it coming. Though eventually he stops harassing me, to speak with his buddies. That’s when I chance opening them again on a whispered sigh and really, I’m glad I do.

As my gaze shifts outside, while trying my best to formulate an escape plan, I zero in on at least a dozen men wearing—and for like the first time ever notice straight off—biker cuts. Brimstone Lord Biker cuts, where they gather off to the side of the store.

Without calling attention to him, my eyes cut to a man almost outside of my visual horizon, so totally out of the Horde’s. The man slips out of his leather, folding it and stuffing it into a saddlebag at the back of a bike. He moves inside the Starbucks, not on Horde radar, who incidentally continue to talk amongst themselves.

Only my attention follows the man as he moves stealthily through all the tables and customers to the back by the restrooms. There I see his hand pull down on the fire alarm. The alarm buzzes loudly. Strobe-like warning lights flash. While patrons and employees scramble out of the store, Lords file in. Black haired Horde grips my arm tightly, flanked on all sides by his Horde compadres.

They’re outnumbered and outgunned, yet it doesn’t stop the gun fight from breaking out. I don’t know who fires first. All I do know is someone throws a chair through the front window, the black haired Horde falls, and I’m flung like a ragdoll over someone’s shoulder. The patch on the back of his cut, even upside down, I can see the flaming devil and the words Brimstone Lords.

Then I’m safe, tossed into the back of a black SUV with the windows blacked out, and I feel the car hum to life and gun into traffic.

I’m surrounded by black. Even blacked out glass separates the front and back seats.

When we do finally stop, someone flings the door open and I’m dragged from the backseat, not gently, inside a large, corrugated metal warehouse. But just like back home, turns out to be a clubhouse. Unlike back home, I’m not made welcome, offered a drink, or any such use of manners.

The room is filled to capacity with pissed off bikers, club pieces in various stages of undress huddled in a corner, and at least one man laid out across a sofa bleeding. Is he bleeding because of me?

The biker continues to carry me, while I remain flopped over his shoulder, through the common into a kind of holding cell. Which is really an empty room where he drops me, again not gently, onto the floor.

So I sit, back resting against the blank white wall, hands resting on bent knees, lightly banging my head against the wall just to pass the time.

Eventually I fall asleep. There’s no way to know how much time has passed until I’m woken by someone shaking me.

“Elise.” Shake. “Elise, get the fuck up.”

My eyes pop open. “Chaos?” I tilt my head studying him, not fully awake yet. “Where’s Beau?”

“You done it this time, little girl.”

I’d done it. I didn’t mean to done it. How do I keep doning it?

He helps me up from the floor, leading me from the room with a hand to my back. Nobody talks to me, not even Chaos. As we walk through the compound I even see Duke, president of the Thornbriar chapter. I do not see Beau.

Outside Blue sits in the driver’s side of Beau’s black pickup. Yet still no Beau. Chaos helps me in then moves to mount his bike. Bloodhound, Levi and Scotch leave the compound next, mounting their bikes. Last to come out, looking über pissed right the hell off, is Duke. When he mounts his bike, all the men start their engines and peel out, escorting me and Blue, two riders to the front of us, and three to the back.

Beau didn’t come.

Blue doesn’t talk. The men don’t stop. As the scenery changes to denser forests covering bigger, rockier mountains, the sky darkens revealing an aerial sea of twinkling stars. Yet I can’t shake the foreboding feeling taking hold in the pit of my gut. And really, is there a worse foreboding than gut foreboding? The answer to that would be an unequivocal no. And since that answer comes in the form of an unequivocal no, I drop my gaze from where I’d been staring out the window to my hands, close my eyes and pray to the universe that I didn’t just screw up my second chance with Beau to the point that there’s no way to unscrew it.

When we finally pull into the Thornbriar compound, Levi won’t look at me. Blue parks the truck, then hops out. He runs around to get my door. Taking me by the arm he leads me inside through the common and straight to my room where he opens the door and shoves me in, closing the door again sharply. Beau’s not in here, either.

I shower, dress for bed, choosing one of Beau’s tees because it smells like him and I’m a glutton for punishment, and climb under the covers. He doesn’t come home all night. When I wake up in the morning, there’s no body indent. His side of the bed remains just as cold as the night before.

To this, I decide to stay in the room away from angry bikers for as long as I can hold out, and sulk.

At some point during the day Trisha pops her head inside the room.

“Just checking to see if you’re still alive,” she says, not nearly as welcoming as before, but at least she’s not a brother of the club.

“Kind of wishing I wasn’t, right now.” I admit, honestly.

“You’ll get through it.” Her eyes soften. “Hungry?”

“No. But thanks.”

She leaves. I continue to lick my wounds in bed, staring at the wall. Occasionally, my phone.

When the clock on my phone flips to ten—that would be p.m.—Chaos walks in the room this time, slamming the door against the wall with a loud bang, making me jump. “Quit your hiding. Duke wants to see you.” Then he leaves.

Right. Duke. Just who I really don’t want to see now. Maybe turn me back over to the Horde?

That wish notwithstanding, I do as he says and get out of bed, then throw on a bra under my T-shirt and a pair of yoga pants before heading out to the common area. Duke keeps his office in a room to the right of the bar.

“To think he’s throwing away the club for you.” A woman, she’s a hot mama—one of the available women who live here semi-permanently in exchange for caring for the men—steps in my face.

“Throwing the club away?” She’s got my attention, which proved by the ugly smirk on her face, she knew she would.

“Boss’s the VP. How do you think your actions look on him? How long you think Duke’s gonna put up with your shit? He fucked me on the regular. Right up ‘til you came back to town. I never gave him these problems.”

“He’s the VP?” I ask, choosing to disregard the disturbing information in which Beau fucked her “on the regular.”

“So selfish you don’t even know what position your man holds. It’s on his patch. Hasn’t been home, has he? Don’t be surprised he smells like pussy when he does get back. A lot of girls willing to take your trash.”

“He’s not my trash. I love him.”

“Funny way of showing it.”

As much as I don’t want to stay talking to her, I let out a longish, exaggerated sigh because what I want even less than spending one more second with the sparkling conversationalist happens when we hear Duke call, “Manning. Get the fuck in here.”

Right.

I breathe out heavy once more, sucking up my courage and walk with my head hanging, looking at my feet, and enter his office. Not sure what I thought the office of the president of an MC would look like, but this really looks like an office. Computer monitor, keyboard, phone. Lose papers, files, cabinets for those files. He leans against the desk when I enter.

Duke’s naturally intimidating in that badass president of an MC way, what with his dark, so black it’s almost blue hair just starting to streak with silver at his temples. He wears it messy and longish, long enough to curl around his ears. And like all the movies portray, as an MC President he sports a kickass mustache and goatee, thick, black with more silver in his beard than his hair. He’s big and buff, full of tattoos, and never wears sleeves.

The thick chain which goes from his belt loop to his wallet rests on the desk. His motorcycle boots he’s planted as firmly to the floor as his palms against the desktop. Like I said, naturally intimidating. But now, on top of all that, his gray eyes glare beadily at me with his mouth set in the meanest scowl I’ve ever seen up close. His scowl could make a grown man wet himself, yet while taking all of him in, I see a dull gold wedding band still glinting slightly from his left ring finger. It’s humanizing in a way which makes him just a bit less scary.

“Take a seat.” He growls. Yes, growls.

Despite that greeting and the fact that he doesn’t look happy, he strangely doesn’t seem as pissed right the hell off as yesterday. To keep him from going back there, I take a seat right away, sitting with my head down again, hands folded in my lap. Even without his earlier pissed vibe, I sit feeling on the verge of tears.

“Got anything to say for yourself?”

I shake my head no.

“Elise Fuckin’ Manning has nothin’ to say?”

Again, I shake my head no.

“Well this is a first. As for yesterday, Rage, the Horde president, denies any knowledge or involvement with those men detaining you. Said they went rouge, but that’s bullshit. A president controls his club. With that knowledge, what do you thinks gonna happen here?”

“I need to collect my things and probably move to California or somewhere far away where I can’t hurt Beau anymore?”

“The Brimstone just declared war on the Bedlam. Not just Kentucky. When we had to send our Nashville boys in to rescue you, shit got serious. So you think we’re really just gonna let you go?”

My head whips up, eyes flash to his. “Wha—what are you gonna do with me?”

“That’s up to Boss. You’re his old lady.”

“I don’t think I am, not anymore. Just not sure where I’ll go.”

“Have you eaten at all today?”

“Not really hungry.”

“You need to eat.”

I don’t want to eat. I don’t want to argue or be a nuisance, either. “I’m very sorry.” I shoot him a sad smile. “For what it’s worth, I do love Beau. I’m just not a very good old lady. I’m sure he’s out finding my replacement as we speak.”

Duke laughs at me. It’s humorless, but he laughs, shaking his head. “Go. And eat. They’re watchin’. I’ll hear if you don’t.”

People keep wanting me to eat, I’d think it would be better on everyone if I just wasted away. Yet, because I don’t want to be called back into his office, I stop off in the kitchen to grab a granola bar from the pantry, waving it around in the air as proof of my following Duke’s order—even though no one’s there to see it—before heading back to my room.

But I don’t eat the bar. I lie in bed, unable to sleep. They declared war because of me. Even though I’m not sure what war between clubs ensues, I doubt it’s sending each other nasty notes in the mail and leaving flaming bags of poo on rival doorsteps.

It’s really late when the door to the room creaks open, so late it’s early. I hear boots fall. Clothing hits the floor and his side of the bed finally dips. I smell cigarettes and booze, but not pussy. And I burst out crying.

“Shh…” He wraps his arms around me, tucking me against his bare chest. “You don’t wanna be doin’ that now.”

“I’m so…sorry.” I cry against his tattoo of my name while he strokes a hand down the back of my hair. “I really… didn’t think the Horde…would be in Nashville. I was just getting away…for the day. Baby…I didn’t even know…you’re the VP. How did I not know? You…you have a patch!” I cry even harder.

“Elise, darlin’ stop.”

“You…want me…to leave? I told Duke…I’d move…to California.”

“Baby girl, I don’t wanna live in California.”

“No…I meant—”

“I know what you meant. But I’ve told you this before, so you gotta get it now. Our life is together.”

“When are you gonna say when? I started…a war. I’m not…worth all this.”

“Not worth this? I got Helen of fuckin’ Troy in my bed, and you think you ain’t worth it? Here’s somethin’ else for you to get now. Nothin’ in my life worth fightin’ for more than you. Nothin’. And I didn’t want you at the new place because it’s a titty bar.”

“I can handle it…” I sniff loudly. “I actually have tits.”

“Don’t I know it. But darlin’, we might be legit, but we ain’t boy scouts. You get what I’m sayin’? This is still an MC and even though we moved away from that other bullshit, shit gets real, we do what we gotta do. And shit can mean anything. Think you can handle that?”

“Will I go to jail?”

“No. You’d be responsible for a legit business. But brothers act how they act, do what they do. You’ll know things which could impact any one of us. Me. You prepared for that burden?”

“Are you afraid I’ll…l-let you down again?”

“Elise, you never let me down.”

“You’re wrong. Yesterday, I did. I made you look bad not just here…but with another chapter. So bad you didn’t come to get me…or come home.”

“I wasn’t with another woman, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“It’s what I deserve.”

“No it’s not. Don’t ever say that shit. But here’s what’s gonna happen. Give me your hand.” I hold my hand out to him, thankfully my crying jag calming down. “No, your left hand,” he corrects me.

I don’t see what it matters which hand, still I lift my left to him. Beau reaches down with his unoccupied hand tagging his jeans from the floor. One-handed, he fiddles with the jeans wrestling a small black velvet box from one of the pockets, using his teeth to help him open the box. I’m shocked motionless as he proceeds to slide the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen in my life—a raised princess cut diamond, probably two karats, surrounded by what looks to add up to two more karats of pink, chocolate and canary yellow diamonds in a platinum band—on my ring finger.

“Beau.” The tears start up again. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“But?” he asks, warily.

“No buts. It’s exquisite.”

As he visibly relaxes a broad, beautiful smile tips the corners of his lips up.

“If you’re workin’ for the club, we’re gettin’ married.”

My face falls. “Oh, okay.”

“Baby girl, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I got it. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight? We just got engaged.”

“So I can’t testify against you or whatever.”

In one move, Beau releases his hold, but pins my arms above my head as he rolls on top of me. “Is that what you think I meant? No. Never. I meant if you’re in, you’re all in. I want every part of you.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah oh. Since the day I met you at the Whippy Dip I knew I was gonna marry you. But part of your punishment is that it happens faster than you probably plan on.”

I’m quiet for a moment, maybe two. Those strong hands of his release mine and bring them to hook around his neck while he traces a line of sweet kisses down my jaw. With every press of his lips I feel safer, yet more scared than I ever remember feeling in my life. What am I getting myself into, really getting myself into? This I want to ask, this deserves an answer yet instead of throwing myself under that bus I chicken out. “When did my dad join the club?” I question instead.

He answers immediately. “Wasn’t an official member. Especially at that time, the club needed someone they could trust, which your pops was more than willin’ to fill that role. But with havin’ a practice in town and all…” Beau’s arms loosen just a bit as his words trail off. This I find disturbing on some level, because well, we just got engaged. His arms shouldn’t be loosening for any reason.

If I were any other woman, I’d realize that his words trailing off and arms loosening probably means he’s uncomfortable or even sad. Unfortunately for him, I’m not another woman. I’m me. And in being me, I venture forward with another uncomfortable question, and I know for sure it’s uncomfortable when he tenses just the briefest of seconds before he regains control of his emotions. “How is it that you’re the VP? Aren’t you a bit, well, a bit young to be a VP?”

“Yeah,” he laughs humorlessly.

“Yeah? That’s it? Care to expound?”

“Not really, not tonight.”

“Beau, I just agreed to marry you and still you don’t trust me?”

“No, not that, darlin’. Just, especially tonight with you just agreein’ to marry me, this shit’s…unpleasant to say the least.”

“Okay,” I mummer and turn away, tucking my hands under my pillow to lift it closer against my face.

“Shit—alright. Okay.” He sighs sadly before starting up again. “You remember your pops’ friend Rex?”

I turn back to him and nod. “I met him only a few times. Whenever he and my dad hung out, they’d do it away from the house.”

“Not surprised. Your pops wanted to keep you away from all that shit.”

“Shit?”

“Rex was your pops best friend all his life. When they were teens and your pops went off to college, Rex became a prospect with the Lords. Their lives took ‘em in different directions, your pop to medical school, a husband and eventually a father. For Rex, his eventually led him to becomin’ our prez.”

When he stops talking, I suck in a breath.

“He was also Duke’s older brother.” Beau finishes.

“Really?”

He nods. “Really. The club was located farther outside town then. Almost to the edge of the county. Anywho, the club was into some bad shit back then, baby girl. Bad shit. I won’t go into it, but if you ever watched any TV shows or movies about outlaw biker gangs, that’d be about right.”

Inside, I’m freaking right the hell out. But somehow, somehow I know that if he senses it, he’ll shut down and likely never open back up. To keep our conversation flowing, I push back any thoughts of a freak out, and nod my head to tell him I understand and to continue.

“We were at war with the Horde for years over territory, this was before I came in at the end. Shit got real, too real. Brothers ended up dyin’, a lot of brothers ended up dyin’ includin’ their prez and ours. Hell, the only one of his lieutenants left standin’ was Duke and that’s only cuz he’d taken a leave of absence. Dawna’s cancer had come back and he’d been stayin’ outside Chicago while Dawna got some specialized treatment from that big cancer hospital up there.”

“I know the one.” My response feels as stupid as it sounds, as the big cancer hospital is hardly the point of this story.

If my stupidity bothers him he doesn’t show it. “I’d been hangin’ at Lady a lot back then, drinkin’ my pain away.” He continues on. “Logan dead, you just gone. The baby. It was all too much. I was lost. Couldn’t go back to school. Everything just—well, since I was such a hanger-on, some of the brothers looked to recruit me. I was all alone and they offered me a place, a family. So I took ‘em up on it. Was a prospect when the big shit went down. I won’t go into what I saw or what I had to do to stay alive. You don’t need those images in your head and I never want you to think of me as anything but the Beau you know. This ain’t up for negotiation. Take it or leave it.”

“Okay,” I tell him right away, figuring I’ll eventually find out, but if he’s not in the mind frame to share yet, who am I to force the issue? “I’ll take it.”

A beat. Then two. Then three he stares at me as if waiting for me to argue, and shakes his head. I can see the ‘what am I going to do with you’ question dancing in his eyes.

“Duke had to come back to take his place at the head since they were all gone. But he promised Dawna that if he took over, they’d get outta all the shit they’d been into because he needed to be there to take care of her. So he needed lieutenants who wanted outta the life. Who wanted the family but not the shit. I got patched in when he took over because of how I handled the shit I had to do. Mick, who shoulda been Duke’s VP got sent up for takin’ out a cop in a bar brawl. That left me to take the spot ‘cuz Duke knew I didn’t want the shit, like he didn’t. Chaos and Blood got patched in a few months after me. And a few months after them came Carver and ended with Sneak. We called a tentative truce with the Horde while they regrouped. Although we never trusted ‘em to stay down. Eventually brothers either left or decided bein’ outta that shit was a better place to be. So here we are.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Nothin’ much to say. It is what it is, darlin’.”

I suppose he’s right. That was then. That’s not the club they are now. So be it.

“How soon we talking?” I ask, changing subjects. “The wedding?”

Swiping a finger along the apple of my cheek, he leans over to kiss my temple as he laughs lightly through his nose, seeing my subject chance for what it is.

“Soon,” he says, showing me that crooked smile of his.

And that’s it. He gave me heavy without making it too heavy. I love him, I’m sure of it, and I think it’s about time he know.

“I love you, Beau,” I say confidently, and lean up to kiss him.

Beau closes his eyes just a moment, squeezing me tighter. “Say it again.” He pleads.

Since I don’t mind, I say it again. “I love you, Beau.”

“Love you too, darlin’.”