Living life is similar to assembling a puzzle without the box to show you what it will look like when you’re done. One piece after another pressed into place until eventually you begin to understand just what it is that sits before you. If you don’t try to push the pieces into place, no progress is made, and you never truly know if they would have fit. When they do snap into place, everything starts to make sense, one little piece at a time.

I initially became attracted to Axton because he was a very handsome man. Hell, anyone who looks at him would agree, regardless of whether or not they were attracted to other aspects of who he was. He was simply drop dead gorgeous. Now, I was even more attracted to him, and for reasons other than his good looks.

More than likely contrary to what most other women would feel in his presence, he caused me to feel safe. I felt as if nothing or no one could or would harm me when I was in his presence. One thing that always fascinated me about carrying my gun was how I felt safe, powerful, and as if no one could penetrate the barrier the gun created. The gun provided me a false sense of hope. Hope of no one stepping into my bubble and snapping a piece of my puzzle into place I didn’t necessarily want.

Simply standing next to Axton, I felt invincible.

When he was gone, I felt vulnerable and powerless.

I sat outside a coffeehouse in Riverside, sipping on a cup coffee and wondering just what piece of my puzzle Axton was going to snap into place. I was anxious to step back when he was done and see just what direction my life was headed and if the piece were in a place where I could make sense of what the end result would be.

“So, I rolled that motherfucker up and strapped it to the bottom of the apes. Hell, it’s how all those Chicano bikers do it out in California. I figured what the hell, my sixty-thousand-dollar blanket,” he said as he nodded his head toward his bike.

His motorcycle was parked in the street, against the curb. For all practical purposes, it had been stripped of all accessories. It didn’t have blinkers on the rear, only a license plate. In the front, it had a headlight, running lights, and blinkers, but only because they were an integral part of the headlight assembly. On the bottom of the ape hanger handlebars, he had strapped the Mexican blanket the money was wrapped in. It truly looked like it belonged there.

“I like it,” I said.

He stared at the bike and squinted his eyes. “I hate changing shit, but I’m getting used to it. Now that seat? That’s a totally different story. I’ll never get used to that motherfucker on there, and those suction cups fuck up my paint.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Sorry.”

“Price I got to pay,” he said as he shifted his gaze to me.

I wanted to ask him what he got in return, but with Axton I’d learned to bite my lip. So far, he and I were making progress. It was minimal for sure, but small measurable improvements nonetheless. Saying something smart-assed was my natural nature, but learning to be quiet was going a long way with him. The old adage, don’t speak unless spoken to seemed all too applicable around Axton and his group. And, as my father used to say, if it isn’t broken, don’t try to fix it.

“So, we’ve got a club barbeque coming up. I’d like for you and Sloan to come. You’ll be my guest, and Sloan will be…” He hesitated and looked down into his lap.

“Well, I don’t know what Sloan will be. She’ll be your guest,” he said as he looked up.

I reached down, picked up my coffee cup, and raised it to my mouth as I tried not to smile. Having him invite me to a club anything was exciting, and it was a step in the direction I wanted to take with him. Sloan going, on the other hand, didn’t excite me too much. I tipped the cup up, took a small drink, and forced myself not to smile.

“Don’t invite her on my account. She’s a big girl. She can find shit to do on her own.”

He looked across the table and clasped his hands together. “Well, I want to talk to you about that. I’m not going to try and bullshit you here. I don’t care much for that bitch. I know you two are tight and all, but something about her gets under my fucking skin. Here’s why I want her to come…”

He rubbed his palms together eagerly. “I want one or more of the fellas to rip that bitch a new ass.”

What the fuck? Rip her a new ass? What?

I leaned into the table and narrowed my eyes. “Huh?”

“You know, rip her a new ass. Like Toad and Pete or Otis. Or whoever,” he said.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, and I’m afraid I don’t want to.”

He leaned into his seat and crossed h.s arms, “You said she likes big cocks. In fact, the bigger the better is what you said. Well, I wanted her to come to the barbeque and meet some of the fellas. I can guarantee you she’ll get some cock at the barbeque. She ain’t gonna meet her groom at this motherfucker, but she’ll damned sure get herself fucked real good. Especially if she dresses the way she normally does.”

I crossed my arms and stared at him. Something about Sloan fucking one of the other members of the club appealed to me as well. Maybe more than it did to Axton. In the two weeks since the botched robbery, she hadn’t shut up about Axton. Slice this, Slice that. She had reminded me no less than two dozen times in the last two weeks that Axton was hotter than any other man she’d ever seen. It reached a point I had to continually remind her, although Axton and I weren’t a couple, and we weren’t even technically seeing each other, he was still very much off-limits. Her evening attire changed from the typical hoodie to a wife beater and no bra. Typically I’m not a jealous person, but I’d reached my limit on her unintended nipple salutes as well as her verbal advancements.

“So, just out of curiosity, what satisfaction do you get out of this? Oh, and before I forget, yeah, count me in. I can’t wait. Now, answer the question, please.”

He leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table. As I studied him, I realized I had only seen him wear two different outfits. One was jeans and a jacket the night of the gun deal. Other than that, I’d only seen him in jeans, boots, and his cut. No doubt it was fine with me, but I’d never really thought about it before.

“Well, I guess knowing the fellas won’t show her any mercy. Even if a bitch wants some cock, if she fucks a drunk biker, she’s gonna get more cock than she really ever thought possible. She’ll have a hard time walking for a week. Knowing one of the fellas beat her pussy to a pulp and walked away without so much as a hand shake would suit me just fine,” he said.

I rolled my eyes. “I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this. Seriously, it’s just wrong. But yeah, I’ll talk her into going. It won’t take much. Oh, and she says she loves sucking cocks, tell them that, too.”

“Doesn’t really matter if she likes to or not, she’ll be doing it anyway,” he said.

It’s strange how a woman changes when a man steps into the picture, but thinking of any other girl flirting with, hitting on, talking to, or even thinking about Axton was enough to make me angry; Sloan included. I wanted to either win Axton’s heart, or lose him entirely, but I didn’t want anyone interfering with the process. Lately, hearing Sloan talk about how smoking hot he was caused enough tension between us to make me uncomfortable having him come by to take me for a ride. Maybe the barbeque would be just the right thing for her.

I smiled and picked up my coffee cup. “Sounds good to me. I’ll tell her. She’ll be excited. I know I am.”

“You done?” he asked as he motioned to my cup.

I nodded my head and shook my cup. “Yep. This fucker’s empty.”

“Toss it. Let’s ride,” he responded.

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” I said as I jumped from my seat and tossed the cup into the trash.

Something about being on the back of Axton’s bike made me feel special. It was as if when we rode together, I was actually his. I knew I wasn’t, but when I was on the back, and my arms were wrapped around him, it seemed as if we were one; a part of each other. Flying around the roads together having people look at us like we were different. Seeing people at stoplights giving him the thumbs up out of either fear, jealousy, or some type of appreciation; and being a part of it made me feel as if I was something or someone I always wanted to be.

To be irreplaceable, we have to clearly stand out as being different.

And when I was on the back of Axton’s bike, I was just that.

“Ready?” he asked.

I gripped his waist in my hands and pressed my feet onto the foot pegs. I leaned forward and rested my chin lightly on his shoulder and breathed into his ear. “Always.”

And I meant it.

Always.