It was only a minute after I parked the stolen bike behind the welcome sign at the border of Tulare and Fresno when I heard her voice again.  She’s been quiet the entire ride, from the warehouse we burned down to the outskirts of the Godless’ turf.

She buried her face on my chest, hoping to hide her tears.  Then her hands clenched into fists and she began pounding on my upper body.  She didn’t even notice how hard she was hitting me.

“Y-You... You don’t have the right to die!” she screamed in between her weeps as she continued to strike me with ever-increasing force.

“I’m not dead,” I reminded her, failing to curtail a hushed laugh. When has death become a matter of privilege?

“I... I saw you... they shot you...”

“The bullet didn’t puncture my neck.  Thankfully, they’re idiots and they didn’t bother to check.”

“But you... you fell down... and you left me all alone with those... those... those monsters...”

“Yeah,” I said.  “Sorry ‘bout that.  But I’m alive.  And I’m here now.”

She struggled to continue speaking, so she just kept striking me with her fists.  Her eyes were closed, her face engulfed by my torso.  She couldn’t even see what she was hitting.

“Uhm... can you stop swinging now?” I pleaded.  “The wound on my neck’s still bleeding.”

“Oh.... sorry,” she mumbled as she ceased her blows. 

She picked up her head and looked at me.  Her eyes were as damp as a swamp.  Her mascara smudged her face like blots of ink.  Her nose was as red as a stoplight.  Her lips were curled in a buckled line that kept shuddering with uneasiness.

But she remained as beautiful as she has always been.

She sank her head on my chest once more.  I kissed her forehead.  That prompted her to look up and meet my eyes.

“It’s all over now,” I said. 

“But... they have more members...” she expressed her concern.  “They have a lot of charters.  They’re gonna want revenge.”

“We’ll deal with that later,” I assured her.  “With the club this time around.”

“We have to call my dad,” she reminded me. 

I agreed.  There was a pay phone at the gas station a few meters away from the arch.  I remembered because I passed by that booth on my way back to Tulare. It’s rare to see those relics from the nineties these days.

I searched for some coins in my pocket but I couldn’t find any.  I looked at her and she just gave me a shrug.  Then the edges of her brows curved upwards as her mouth straightened into an infuriated line.  She probably remembered what happened to her precious things.  I smiled.  It was a relief to find her as amusing as ever.

I haven’t called Prez since yesterday.  I still had my phone back then and I informed Prez that we were about to enter Essex.  He’d be mad to know what I’ve done.  Really mad.  I didn’t tell him I was alive.  I struck without the club’s consent.  I acted by myself without consulting them.  And I may have also doomed the club as the Godless would want the worst kind of retaliation for the fall of their Tulare charter.

But Samantha was safe now, and that’s what mattered most to me.

The gas boy was kind enough to lend me a few quarters. I dropped them on the antiquated phone and dialed Prez’s number. It didn’t take a full ring before he answered. 

“If you’ve harmed her,” he bellowed, thinking that I was one of the Godlesses wanting to follow up on their demands, “I’m gonna gut your belly and choke you with your own fucking intestines!”

I haven’t heard him that furious before. 

“Tulare’s gone,” I told him.

“Lenny?” he replied with shock, his voice was almost a murmur.

“Tulare’s gone, Prez,” I repeated without explaining why I was still alive.  There’d be more time for that later.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m sorry, Prez.  I had to act quick and bringing the matter to the club would just cause a delay I couldn’t afford.  I assaulted their HQ.  Took down thirty, forty, maybe even fifty of them.”

I heard cheers in the background.  I realized that I was on loud speaker.

“You’re not bullshitting me, Lenny?” he wanted to be sure.

“No, Prez.  Tulare’s down.”

“And... And Samantha... my daughter?”  His voice started trembling, shedding off the regal might that he has been known for, the same kind of dignified strength that has, for so long, inspired the club.

“She’s with me.  She’s unharmed.”

The patches whooped it up even louder.  Prez let out what sounded like crackled sighs.

I gave Samantha the phone before walking a few feet away from the booth to give them the privacy they needed.  She started weeping once more as she talked to her father.  I could only hear some parts of their conversation.  But when she uttered four words, I knew that what happened today didn’t only save her life, it also salvaged her relationship with her old man.

I’m sorry for everything.

Prez asked me to narrate the details once I got the phone back.  The patches cursed and howled and hooted as I was recounting the events that unfolded.  Then Prez gave me specific instructions that he wanted me to strictly follow.  Don’t go Rambo this time around, he said. 

Ride to Stanislaus via Mono and Merced.  Look for Roadblock Tavern.  The patches from the other charters will meet you there.  They’ll stay with you until the smoke clears and the situation at San Mateo is resolved.

Make sure that Samantha remains unharmed.

I gave him my word.

It took us three hours to reach Stanislaus via the route that Prez ordered.  She had her hands wrapped around my waist the whole time, holding me tightly as she rested her head against my back.  It felt nice.  So nice that I didn’t want our ride to end.

But we reached our destination.  Roadblock Tavern was a nondescript watering hole situated just outside the town’s main district.  It was sandwiched by a couple of Chinese eateries and a few mom and pops stores, establishments that catered to the suburbs a few kilometers south of its area.  The bar wasn’t in a location ideal for its target market.  At best, it was meant for locals who wanted to spend their happy hour just before heading back to their homes.

It was the perfect spot for a clandestine meet-up.

The patches from Topeka were already there.  It turned out that they camped at Alpine as the entirety of San Mateo’s borders were littered with Godlesses.  That allowed them to reach Stanislaus before we did.

Pido, their president, begged for me to tell them the story of how I took down the Tulare charter.  I repeated the tale, much to their enjoyment.  Some of them patted my back.  One ruffled my hair.  A couple kissed me on the cheek.  These were displays of affection that no patch would ever show a prospect.

When everyone settled down, I rejoined Samantha who previously chose to plunk herself on a seat at the corner farthest from the door.  She was still afraid and I couldn’t blame her.  She has gone through a lot in the past twenty-four hours, and it would be difficult to forget the horrors she has seen.

She looked at me as I pulled up a chair and sat beside her.  Her eyes were still watery.  Her lips were still jittering from time to time.  I placed my arm over her shoulder and pulled her closer to me.  She didn’t resist.

“How long do we have to stay here?” she asked.

“I... don’t know.”  Much as I wanted to give her the answer she wanted, I couldn’t.  We could be stuck in Stanislaus for a couple of days, maybe even a week, until things at San Mateo became clearer.

“I’m scared,” she admitted.

“Don’t be,” I tried to reassure her.  “I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

“You broke that promise before,” she reminded me with a rather adorable pout which made me snigger.

“But I’m still here,” I told her as I held her more firmly.  “I should’ve been dead.  I was losing a lot of blood.  But one thing kept me going.  You.”

Her mouth twisted into a warped shape as she tried to stifle a smile.  “Hmmm.  Go on,” she said with a charming tone.  She liked what she was hearing.

“Heh.  I can rant on and on about that...”

“Then do so,” she egged, finally allowing her lovely beam to shine.  “As you’ve said, you don’t know how long we’d be here.  We’ve got a lot of time to spare.”

“I’m not big on talks like this,” I confessed.  “But I can summarize what I feel.”

“And that is?” she asked with obvious excitement as she pulled herself closer to me.

“I knew I was gonna die,” I continued.  “Hell, I believed I was gonna die.  But I willed myself to live... because I didn’t want my last breath sullied by the thought that you weren’t safe.”

Her smile disappeared.  Her eyes turned sodden once again.  The edges of her lips foundered, revealing a pout that didn’t look petulant at all.  She seemed happy but humbled, wanting but overwhelmed, satisfied but yearning for more.

“I don’t want you harmed in any way,” I went on to admit.  “If I have to die to make sure that you won’t get hurt, I’d gladly choose that fate.”

“I... I don’t want you to die, Lenny,” she responded weakly, with a tone that was sullen and proud at the same time.

“Well, that makes two of us,” I jested which made her giggle.  “But I’ll give you my life if I have to.”

Her smile returned.  She struck my chest with her palm.

“I never thought you were this... theatrical,” she commented.

“Hey!  As someone famous once said - I think it was Tupac or Seal or John Legend or some other black dude - love turns men into poets,” I answered back quickly, wanting to roll with the moment we were sharing.

Her eyes widened with shock.  She hastily retreated from my torso.  She looked straight into my eyes as her lower lips dropped from her mouth.

Fuck!

The L word.  Shit!  Why did I even say it?

She didn’t like it.  She didn’t like it at all.  Otherwise, she wouldn’t have reacted that way.  Damn it!  I wanted to stab my heart with a jungle knife for being so fucking stupid.  It was too soon, and it was a big word to say at this point.  She wasn’t ready to hear it.  She most probably didn’t even feel the same way.

A long silence followed.  I kept hitting my head in dismay.  I couldn’t even dare to look at her.

“No,” she said after what seemed like forever. 

“No?” I asked as I braced myself for the worst. 

“That line isn’t from a song,” she proceeded to declare.  “It’s from Plato.”

“It’s... That’s... Not from a...” I didn’t know how to react to her reply.  Why would she tell me something so trivial in response to what I just revealed.  “That’s all you wanna say?” I asked out of confusion, out of a little bit of anger, and out of disappointment most of all.

“You’re expecting me to say something else?” she shot back.  Her voice sounded perturbed and irate.

“No,” I answered as my eyes left her lovely face and focused on the beer at the table instead.

“Good,” she responded quite coldly.

Another round of silence ensued, filled with awkward moments when we just tried to avoid each other’s gaze. We pretended to be preoccupied with insignificant matters - like looking at the patches as they cleaned the barrels of their guns or observing the barkeep as he obsessively wiped the surface of the counter - just to have some excuses not to continue with our conversation.

I waited for her to break the quietness. She never did.

Every second that passed made me feel more and more dejected. I was such an idiot for saying that fucking word, and it drove her away. That’s the least thing I wanted. That’s the least thing I’d ever want in my life right now.

She’s important to me. Very important. That much I was sure of. Just the mere thought of her made me overcome the mental and emotional shit I carried back home from Cairo. That meant a lot to me, for it proved that my feelings for her were immensely significant, decidedly extraordinary, and undeniably intense. Her slightest acts gave me so much joy, no matter how peculiar and seemingly irritating they were. Her attempts to get under my skin only made me adore her even more. I found a peculiar kind of grace in her ways, and an intoxicating kind of splendor in her imperfections.

I’ve known her for three days, and a good part of that was spent with her being a captive of our enemies and I being at the brink of death. Three days is such a short time to get to know somebody really well, but it’s enough to make me know one thing with all certainty: that I want to spend the rest of my life getting to know this girl and discovering something new about her with each passing day. It wouldn’t matter what she’d show me for I knew, without doubt, that I’d find beauty in everything she would share and happiness with every second she’d spend with me.

I love her that much.

But now, she’s slipping away, peeved by a word that summarized everything I am since I met her.

I could continue to mope and blame myself for carelessly uttering that word... and lose her forever.

Or...

Fuck! I didn’t want to lose her.

I grabbed her arm firmly. She turned her head to look at me, her eyes were fully open to express how startled she was by my sudden act. Her lips tentatively parted with equal surprise.

I wanted to assure her that I meant her no harm.

But screw that thought! There’d be more time for that later.

I dragged her arm towards me, pulling the rest of her body closer to mine. When she was close enough, I wrapped my hand around her nape and drew her face - and her soft, luscious lips - to my mouth.

She closed her eyes as she approached.

And I closed mine.

And I kissed her.

And she kissed back.

It began with gentle brushes of lips. It escalated into a dance of tongues desperate for every centimeter of space they could find. Soon, the rest of our bodies joined the fray... her arms around my neck, my hands around her waist, her leg hooked over my thigh, my chest pressing against her soft breasts, her groin rubbing on my upper leg...

Dogs from the other charters were scattered around us. But they didn’t care. They knew better than to interfere with a fellow member’s business, even if that member was a mere prospect. And even if their curious eyes rolled towards us like we were a float at Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade, I doubted if we would’ve even given a damn.

We were so immersed in the passion we shared, a passion that we’ve both tried to suppress since that night when we first made love. Though I didn’t know if she’d consider this another mistake or not, or if she’d just dismiss is it as a thank you gesture for saving her life, I didn’t really give a fuck. At that moment, she was mine. And at that moment, that was all that mattered.

Her velvety skin... her perfectly perky breasts that only reminded me how immaculately pink her nipples were... her slender but shapely legs that goaded me into imagining how it would feel if they were hitched over my shoulders as she waited for me to get inside her...

She was giving me a taste of these and more.

“I want you,” I whispered into her ear as I was licking her neck. “I fucking want you, right now.”

I could see her face. Her eyes were still closed as she bit her lower lip. Her nose was scrunched in a cute but sensual manner. It was like she was in so much pain, but she was joyously reveling in the agony she was feeling.

“I... I want you too,” she responded tenderly.

That was all I needed to hear.

I fastened my hands under her thighs and carried her up as I continued to kiss her. There was a room right beside the toilet at the back of the bar. I didn’t know what it was for, but it had a door... a door that could give us the privacy we needed.

I walked across the tavern, through the crowd of patches who were busy chatting with each other and smoking their weed and drinking their ales. Maybe they were just pretending to be busy. Maybe they were just pretending not to notice us. But it didn’t really matter. My lips never left hers as I made my way through the pub, carrying her like the only trophy that mattered to me, a trophy that I would forever cherish, a trophy that I wouldn’t allow to leave my sight.

I reached the room by the toilet. I opened the door and the stench of dry air immediately escaped the enclosure. It was small, dark and filled with boxes and mops and beer cases. It served as a stockroom, that much I could tell. Hardly as romantic as a hotel room, but it should suffice.

I went inside and closed the door. I rested her back against the wall. She unhooked her legs from my arms on her own. Then she began to remove my kutte. My vest wasn’t that easy to take off so I helped her out. Once it was off, she helped me take off my blood-stained shirt.

Then it was her turn to undress.

Her marvelous breasts, as round and as lively as I remembered them to be, greeted me. I paused for a bit to admire them. But she was quick to hold my chin and pull my lips back to her mouth. She unbuttoned her jeans, and I did the same.

Soon enough, we were both naked as we stood behind the crates and under the cobwebs of the grimy room that served as our own little piece of paradise.

We kissed a little more until my mouth decided to venture to other parts of her fine body. I started with her neck, proceeding to her ear, lingering there for a while until I glided my tongue down to her shoulders, playing around her collarbone the longest. She liked that. Her soft moan told me as much. I went farther down to her breasts, tasting every bit of skin my tongue could find, circling her luscious mounds ever so slowly until my motions spiraled and settled on her nip. I gently bit her hardened tip and she groaned a louder than before. She grabbed a handful of my hair and gave it a placid tug. I bit her nip a little harder and she began pulling my hair towards her body, an instinctive gesture to make me continue what I was doing.

So that’s what I did.

But my hand wanted to explore her, so I reached for her cunt. Two fingers began to stroke the slit between her thighs. She was wet, her fluids were already trickling down her inner thighs. Her pussy was as soft as velvet though quite stubbly as hair was starting to grow around her womanhood. I found that very enticing. I was sure she’d be embarrassed about it if she wasn’t lost in the ecstasy of the moment. But no one knew. No one, except me... and that thought made me even more aroused than I already was.

I rubbed her juicy flower for a minute or so, until she became more damp and her pussy became plump with exhilarating heat. She was ready. One finger dug its way inside her, and she gave me a long and sensual moan. A few thrusts later and another finger joined the fray. Her moan became more intense, so much so that it almost resembled a howl.

That turned me on so much. My other hand grabbed her ass, squeezing her nubile hump and pulling her midsection towards my face. I helped her hook her leg over my shoulder until my mouth was directly underneath her pussy. Then I began to lick, tasting her secret part which she allowed me to forage. A flick of my tongue on her clit sent her reeling in bliss. A series of licks later and she was wildly tipping her head as her breathing escalated into a rapid pace. A tease of a penetration had her head bending backwards as she murmured a word of vilification that instead expressed the pleasure she was feeling. “Shit...” she whispered, almost mumbling, biting her lips to prevent her from screaming.

I smiled.

My tongue’s motion consisted of a lap from the base of her clit up to the middle of her cunt and into the walls of her pussy. I started slowly, coursing through the line with methodical rhythm. Eventually, however, I ended up lapping her cunt like a starved animal let loose on a chunk of meat. Her hands looked for something to hold on to, her fingers finally settling on a rusty coat hanger nearby. I continued with what I was doing, at the same frenetic rate that almost drove her over the edge of her sanity.

She pulled my hair as her back arched and her legs stiffened. She released a muffled grunt. I felt the goosebumps forming on her inner thighs as they were sandwiching my cheeks. She was about to come.

I stopped.

She looked at me. Her eyes sparkled with surprise and dismay. She wanted to ask why. I grinned at her before she could even open her mouth.

I stood up and resumed nibbling her neck.

“I don’t want you to come,” I said. “Not yet.”

“Why?” she asked with the most tender of tones, her head tilting away from my face and giving me more of her to cherish.

“Because I want you.”

“You have me.”

“I won’t stop wanting you.”

“That’s... nice...” she replied with bewilderment, intrigued by what I said.

“But I want this moment to last a little more...”

“Why?” she wanted to know, continuing to moan as my tongue sailed all over her skin.

I stopped what I was doing. Our foreheads met, our noses touched at the tips, and our warm breaths skidded throughout each other’s chin. “I want to remember this,” I answered, looking straight into her eyes, desperately wanting her to know how much I longed for her, how much I desired her.

She smiled.

“You say that as if this is the last time we’ll be together,” she replied.

“Can’t blame me if I’m preparing for the worst,” I told her.

“You don’t have to,” she answered as she caressed my cheek with her tepid hand.

“You mean...” I began to say, wanting to clarify what she just said, wanting to know that it wasn’t just my hopes that made me optimistic about what I heard.

She didn’t allow me to finish my question though.

“Yes,” she quickly responded.

I smiled back before grabbing her beautiful ass and pulling her groin closer to mine. I lowered my face until my mouth met her breasts as my hand played with her wet cunt. She released a series of sensual grunts as my finger moved smoothly across her clit. I felt her pussy get even more damp. She was ready once more, and so was I.

A knock at the door disturbed us just as I was positioning my cock to enter her.

Shit!

I tried to ignore the intrusion by proceeding, but she gently pushed me away.

“Lenny,” she called my attention, wanting me to check on the reason behind the rap outside.

“Should I?” I asked, hoping for a favorable answer.

“Yes,” she said, much to my disgruntlement.

“Yeah?” I yelled angrily at the person who was bothering us.

“Jonas is here,” the voice came back. I recognized it as one of the patches from Topeka.

I sighed before looking at Samantha’s beautiful face once again. I was expecting her to be just as frustrated as I was, but to my surprise, she was smiling at me.

“You probably think this is funny, huh?” I asked her as I gently stroked her hair.

“What? That my dad gave you blue balls?” she quipped with a damn cute smirk. “Couldn’t be the worst thing that happened to us the past twenty-four hours.”

“I just... don’t want this to end...” I confessed.

She brushed her fingers against my cheek. Our naked bodies were still pressed against each other, yet she arched her back to make me feel more of her... or to allow her to feel more of me. It didn’t matter. I savored how close she was to me at that moment.

“It won’t,” she said, the words I desperately wanted to hear. “Now, let’s get dressed and take care of things. As you’ve said earlier, we’re not out of the woods yet.”

We went out of the stockroom some five minutes later, fully clothed and all. We made sure that there were no traces of our abruptly ended escapade. We straightened out whatever creases marred our tops. I helped her fix her hair. She grabbed a crate, the contents of which she didn’t even know, just to provide an excuse as to why we were there.

As soon as we stepped out of the small room, however, we encountered Jonas. He was standing just a few feet outside the door. The patches from San Mateo formed a straight line behind him. Most of them had their arms crossed over their chests. All of them displayed a glower, but none was more intimidating than the scowl on the president’s face.

Samantha dashed towards her father. She gave him a tight embrace. He hugged her back and kissed her forehead.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. Her voice was cracking. She was crying. “I’m so sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, pumpkin,” Prez told her as he continued to caress her back. “You’ve been a brave girl. Getting captured... that wasn’t your fault.” Over her shoulders, Prez gave me an angry glare, as if he was telling me that I was the one who fucked up.

“No,” Samantha countered, still in tears. “I’m sorry for everything, dad. For how I’ve lived my life... for blaming you for what happened to mama... for blaming you for everything bad that ever happened to me... I’m so sorry for all of them, daddy. I love you. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, sweetie,” Prez replied as he tightened his hold on her even more. “You’re safe now, and that’s what’s important. God damn it! I thought I lost you. I don’t know what I would’ve done if they harmed you in any way...”

“I’m here, daddy,” she answered back. “Lenny... he... he saved me...”

“Well, he shouldn’t have lost you in the first place,” Prez scornfully said as he gave me another furious look.

“Dad!” Samantha began to complain.

“Give me a minute, pumpkin,” he told her. “I have to settle things with the prospect.”

“What do you mean settle things?” she wanted to know. A tint of concern blighted her question.

He held her arm and gently pulled her aside. Then he walked towards me.

“You’re always gonna screw things up, eh?” he asked, angrily still.

“I... I made things right,” I replied.

“By taking down an entire charter of theirs?”

“They took down an entire charter of ours.”

“We lost nine men. They lost forty. You think they’ll consider that fair?”

“I didn’t even think about that. I just wanted to get her outta there.”

“Forty-nine bodies in two counties. The feds will be all over this case. That’s a lot of heat for the club. I guess you didn’t think about that too?”

I found his indignant tone quite surprising. “I’m sorry, Prez... but you didn’t seem that... displeased... when I talked to you on the phone a few hours ago,” I told him.

“A few hours ago, I found out that my daughter - my only daughter - was safe. I was overjoyed. But now...”

“Now?”

“Things have started to sink in.”

“What do you mean, Prez?”

“Give me your kutte, son,” he ordered. Screwdriver and Macho took a step forward as if they were telling me that they were more than willing to rip the vest off my body if I refused to follow Prez’s command.

I could only think of one reason why Jonas wanted me to surrender my kutte. He was kicking me out of the club. Was it because of what I did to save Samantha? Was it because I didn’t inform him before I acted? Or was it for another reason he has yet to discuss with me? That he didn’t like what he saw... me and his daughter coming out of a small room together after doing whatever dirty things he imagined.

I didn’t want to get thrown out of the club. After I was sent home from Cairo, I spent all my nights and days agonizing over what I have done. The club gave me a renewed sense of purpose, a feeling of belonging, and some much needed diversions to help me cope up with the trauma of what I’ve gone through. I’ve dedicated my life to the Filthy Dogs, and since the first day they made me a prospect, I’ve promised myself that I’d die for this club.

This club... it has become more than a group I wanted to be a part of. It has become my family. My life.

And now... now they’re taking it away.

I stood, motionless, in front of the patches for a few seconds. My head tipped downwards. I was too sad and angry and ashamed that I couldn’t even look at them.

“Dad, what’re you doing?” I heard Samantha asked with alarm.

“Give me your fucking kutte,” Prez repeated his command with a voice that was more enraged than before.

With much reluctance, I did. I extended my hand to offer my vest. Macho stepped forward to take it away from me.

“I am grateful that you saved my daughter,” Prez proceeded to say. “But you weren’t thinking. You were brash and impetuous and intrepid. You compromised the club.”

I wanted to apologize. I wanted to ask for another chance to prove myself worthy. But words failed to leave my mouth.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Macho take my kutte to the other end of the pub, near the main door. He was going to dispose of it. Burn it, most probably, as was always the case with the kuttes that rats and quitters and cowards used to own.

Prez continued to glare at me for a couple of minutes, and so did the rest of the patches behind him. Razor, his veep, even mumbled some curses. His eyes were covered by the dark glasses he wore, but I was certain they were burning with loathing.

All of a sudden, Macho came running back to where we were, holding my kutte like it was a pillow with a ring during a wedding.

“Done, Prez,” he informed Jonas.

Prez grabbed my kutte from Macho’s hands and held it up. He carefully studied the back portion of the vest before nodding his head. Then he threw it towards me. I almost failed to catch it.

I looked at my kutte and my eyes widened with shock.

There used to be a single patch in front, one that displayed my position in the club: prospect. It was gone. In its place were four stitched pieces of fabric, two on each side. The top patch on the right side read Filthy Dogs MC, and the one at the bottom had the words San Mateo embroidered on it. The top patch on the left side read Main Crew, and the one below it read F.F.F.D.F.F.

I couldn’t contain my excitement. I turned the kutte around and checked its back.

My eyes skipped the upper rocker, which proudly stated the club’s name, and the logo in the middle. I wanted to see if the bottom rocker - the last patch the club would give a prospect before he would become a full-fledged member - was there.

It was. Two words embellished the horizontal tier.

San Mateo.

I couldn’t help but smile with joy and pride. I didn’t even notice that the patches have formed a circle around me. One by one, they hugged me. Some kissed my cheek. Others affectionately slapped my face. One even squeezed my butt but I didn’t see who he was, though if I were to make a smart guess, I’d say it was Rotten. One word was repeated over and over again during the minute or so when they celebrated my appointment: congratulations.

The patches quickly dispersed. Then, Prez approached me. He placed his hand on my shoulder.

“Brother,” he said with the warmest smile he ever gave me.

I hugged him. He hugged me back.

We were still locked in an emotional embrace when he whispered something in my ear.

“Give me your kutte.”

It was the same thing he ordered earlier. His words made me nervous once again, but I had to trust him.

So, I did as he asked.

Once my kutte was in his possession, however, he tore the San Mateo patch in front of my vest as well as the bottom rocker at the back which also displayed the town’s name. Then, Macho gave him what looked like another bottom rocker.

Prez returned my kutte as well as the new patch which I assumed I had to sew myself. The fabric contained one word that sent shivers down my spine.

Nomad.

“What does this mean, Prez?” I asked, my eyes still glued on my kutte.

“Because of that stunt you pulled off at Tulare, the Godlesses retreated,” he answered. “They left San Mateo and requested for an immediate truce. But you know and I know that such a peace won’t last. They’ll be hungry for retaliation. They just need time to regroup. And when they do... they’ll be after you... and they’ll be after my daughter.”

“I won’t let them harm her,” I assured him.

“I know,” he said. “That’s why I’m stripping you of your membership with the mother charter.”

“Why?” I demanded to know. His reason wasn’t clear to me.

“You’ll be a nomad, for now and in the foreseeable future,” he began to explain. “You’ll be excluded from any of the charters’ rosters. You won’t have to report your whereabouts to anyone. You’re free to go wherever you want. You’re beholden to no specific charter rules.”

“But... how can I keep her safe if I won’t be around to protect her?” I asked as I looked at Samantha. She was just as confounded as I was.

“Simple,” Prez replied. “She’ll be with you.”

“She’ll what?” I responded in disbelief.

“It’s the only way to keep her away from harm. She has to be on the move at all times. So she has to be with you.”

“But...” I muttered, wanting to protest only to remember that I wasn’t in a position to complain.

“Jesus Christ, brother!” Prez remarked. “Don’t fucking tell me this isn’t what you want. I know... they know... every damn person in this building knows... you’re in love with my daughter.”

The patches sniggered as I tried to curtail a smile. I saw Samantha’s cheeks turn red with embarrassment.

I could’ve denied it, but that wouldn’t have been right. I was caught. I was cornered. And the accusation was truer than fragrance of a rose and the light of day.

So I just extended my hands to my sides and allowed my smile to come through.

“You got me, Prez,” I acknowledged.

The patches yelled their ayes as if they were voting at the chapel. I took it as a gesture of their acquiescence, a way for them to express that they’ve given me their blessings.

“So ride, nomad,” Prez continued. “Ride far and ride safe, and keep my daughter away from harm.”

“I will, Prez,” I promised.

Samantha ran towards me and wrapped her arms around my neck. She began to pepper my cheek with what seemed like a thousand kisses, delighted by the promise of sharing a life with me... no matter how difficult or inconvenient that life may be.

“Pumpkin, I’m not done with Lenny yet,” her father said. “Give us a couple of minutes. We need a little privacy.” He turned to face the brothers. “And that goes for all of you, too. Go get something to drink. I need to have a little quiet chat with Lenny.”

“Hey, no problem boss,” Screwdriver remarked. “We don’t wanna get in the way of some father and son-in-law bonding,” he continued as the rest of the Dogs laughed with him.

They left us alone but Prez didn’t think that was enough. He led me to the room where Samantha and I came from. His nose crumpled and his eyes narrowed as soon as we entered.

“Smells like sex in here,” he commented.

“Uhm... it’s stuffy in here,” I reasoned out. “Place is like a toaster.”

He sighed. Then he closed the door. Whatever he wanted to talk about, it was certain that he didn’t want anyone else to hear.

“We have a traitor,” he told me, his voice was full of trepidation.

“I know,” I answered, reminded of what I thought about just before I proceeded to rescue Samantha. “The Godlesses... they shouldn’t have known that I was bringing her to Essex, yet, they were there before we arrived.”

“Not only that, but Essex... they had a new clubhouse. Barely two weeks old. It’s well-hidden, as you’re now aware of. The locals there don’t even know where it is. But somehow, the Godlesses managed to find it.”

“So, who do you think is the fucking snitch?”

“I wish I can tell you,” he said.  His face scrunched up, revealing the lines on his forehead.  “But the truth is, I don’t have a damn clue. I’ve been observing everyone since Essex went down.  Tried looking for the smallest sign of fear or apprehension... or maybe even remorse.  I got nothing.  It’s hard to get a read of what’s in their heads when all of them were angry about that incident, and anger... well... anger is the easiest emotion to fake.”

“But things are starting to settle down...”

“For the time being, yes.”

“And whoever this rat is, he’s sure to make a mistake... and we’ll get him, right?”

“Maybe.  But I wouldn’t want to leave anything to chance.  That’s why I stripped you of your charter patch.  You need to take Sammy far away from here, before the Godlesses regroup to plot their revenge.”

“Any idea where I should take her?”

“I told the boys that L.A. will be your first stop.”

“I’m down with that.  The city will help her get over the shit she’s been through.  L.A.’s a good choice.”

“Yes it is... but that’s not where you’re going.”

My head twitched a bit as his response was totally unexpected.

“Everyone will think that you’re going to L.A.,” Prez continued, “including the traitor.”

“I see.  So where are we really headed?”

“Farther south.  Near the border.  A place called Rogue Town.”

“I’ve heard of it.”

“Stay there for a while.  My brother... he runs a crew at RoTo... the Bastards of Bedlam.  He’ll keep you safe until I manage to clean up our own house.”

I nodded in agreement, assuring him that I completely understood what I had to do.  He placed his hand over my shoulder and gave it a squeeze, his way of telling me that he trusted me, that he knew I’d be able to pull it off.

He went straight to his daughter who was waiting for him at the other end of the tavern. He hugged her again and gave her a long, tender kiss on the forehead. Tears dropped from her eyes once more. She knew what it meant. It was time to leave. It was goodbye.

Outside, the patches - who were now my brothers, a thought that has yet to completely sink in - were gathered around the bike I stole from the Godlesses.

“Yours?” Screwdriver asked when he saw me approaching them.

“I guess it’s mine now,” I said. “Spoils of war and shit.”

“Nice. ’72 Rider. Quite rare these days.”

“And it fucking reads Flesh Eater!” Rotten remarked. “You sure you don’t want us to change it to something more... appropriate?”

“Like what?” I queried.

“I dunno,” he answered. “Cum Swallower, h’bout that?”

Everyone laughed. I laughed with them. For the first time since I joined the club, a joke didn’t feel like it was meant to ridicule me. It felt more like a gesture of affection, their way of showing their love, their way of making me know that I belonged.

Finally, I belonged.

Prez came to me once more and secretly handed over what seemed like a plastic card that was small enough to fit in my palm.

“What’s this, Prez?” I asked.

“Debit card,” he said. “I loaded it up with ten grand. That should be enough to cover your expenses for a while, but if things don’t cool down soon, you’d have to find ways to support yourselves.”

“Okay.”

He smiled. “That’s what outlaws do for their Ol’ Ladies, after all,” he added.

I smiled back.

He was about to walk away, but he turned around to face me at the last second. “Just... don’t let my daughter get a hold it, alright?” he reminded me with genuine concern.

I chuckled and nodded.

The brothers began singing and cheering as me and Samantha mounted the chopper. The engine roared and thick smoke began to spread over the ground like fog claiming the first minutes of dawn. We said our farewells. They said their well wishes.

And we rode off.

I expected her to stare at the place and the people we left behind. I thought she wasn’t ready to let go of the life she has come to know. Instead, I saw her looking forward, her eyes fixed on the road we were traversing, a smile shimmering on her beautiful face.

“We’re not going to L.A.,” I said, loudly so she could hear my voice through the wind. I knew she’d complain.

But she didn’t.

“Okay,” was her simple reply. Her beam didn’t vanish.

“We’re going to a Rogue Town.”

“Where’s that?”

“Down south, near Mexico.”

“Okay.”

“You’re not gonna complain about that?”

“Why should I?”

“Because it’s another backwater town in the middle of nowhere.”

I heard her snicker before she replied. “It’s not exactly in the middle of nowhere,” she said.

“Heh. It’s not?”

“Nope. You’ll be there. Wherever you are, that place won’t ever be nowhere.”

This girl. She is special.

I drove the bike even faster as we reached the sign which reminded us that we were about to leave Stanislaus. Her arms tightened their grip around my waist as she drew her head closer to my back. My eyes were focused on the road. I couldn’t see her. But I could feel her warmth burning through the breeze and the cold air of the coming night. I could feel her lips, still curled into a smile, as she snuck a kiss or two. And I swear I could feel the beating of her heart, rapid but steady, and it was enough to tell me one thing.

That she was happy.

And that made me happy too.

I didn’t know what the coming days would bring. I savored that moment with her. And I promised myself that I wouldn’t allow anything or anyone to ruin us, not now, not tomorrow, but forever.