Jackson

Thank fuck the guys follow me out as I turn and leave. There is this piece inside of me that wants to go back inside, toss Michele over my shoulder and carry her home.

The sinister piece of me wants to tie her to a bed and redden her ass for all the time we’ve spent apart. Just a chance to give her a twist of pain with a promise of pleasure.

In my mind, I can see the plump globes of her ass with her face down on the bed as I massage the skin drawing the blood flow to the skin before I take a swish downward to which her back would arch causing her tits to swoop downward and rub against the sheets. After which, I would spread her ass cheeks before diving in face down, tongue out right into her pussy, and I lap and lick until her juices flooded my mouth.

Michele still gets me rock hard, even in my anger. While her betrayal still cuts deep, I can still feel every bit of the emotion we both went through. I can’t hate her when I can understand the situation she was put in. In the years I spent locked up, the only friend I had was also an enemy – time.

Seconds, hours, minutes, days, weeks, months … years. Time passes and it’s both a blessing and a fucking curse.

The only thing time gave me was an opportunity to sort my emotions. Without love there is no hate, without anger there is not happiness. Like two sides to a balance for every positive there is a negative. Without care for someone you can’t have emotions so in order to hate you must first know love.

And love, I know. Even now, I love her. Those years behind bars I found forgiveness for her, for myself, and for her brother. In my time out, I found peace when I personally saw to it Lee Bates was dead. Retribution is a taste of hot cinnamon spice with a blend of a cool mint after.

I just don’t understand why she faked her death. Why would she give up her life in Tennessee for a life tied to a crime boss?

Yet, in all this confliction between us and the war in my own emotions, there is my soul, my heart, the tiny piece of me that is left that simply finds relief that my wife is alive.

How can she expect me to leave her here? Knowing there is an underlying fear in her, the protector inside of me wants to wrap her in my embrace and never let her go.

Except, I’m unsure if her fear is from the people she’s tied to or if it’s from me.

That thought guts me. I feel my stomach churn. At my height, build, and demeanor, I’m intimidating to most people I come into contact with. Michele, though, she’s the last person I ever want to be afraid when she’s with me.

While I don’t like the fear in Michele’s voice or face, I need a moment to regroup. Outside, I look for the fresh air to be a balm to my damaged ego, but instead I find a thick, humid filled day. The sun shines down in shades of gray rather than vibrant oranges and yellows we find back home in open fields.

“Brother,” Collector says getting my attention. “Thinkin’ we should head back to the hotel, update Judge and X. She knows the people she’s dealing with. We don’t.”

“She’s alive and you want me to ride off. My wife is alive, why the fuck should I leave her?” My frustration boils over and I fight the urge to beat the shit out of Collector.

“Brother, I get you’ve missed that pussy, but the woman in that shop ain’t givin’ up the goodies.” Trapper says causing me to turn to him and glare. I feel the urge to punch him. I fight for self-control.

Deacon, always the voice of reason, speaks up. “Look Rowdy, it’s been years. She’s made it this far on her own. One more day, I think the woman you love, the woman inside that building is strong enough to handle her own for one more day. Let’s regroup, make a plan, and then you will have the time and ability to sort your shit with your wife.”

“No!”

Deacon doesn’t reply but taps away on his phone before lifting the display to me. “Look got tapped into the system. We get back to the hotel I can set this up to loop back to her people as if the room is the same. In the mean time, we got eyes and ears inside on her and we can sort what comes next. Shit hits the fan we can be back in two minutes, Rowdy.”

“No!” I say watching Michele fall to the couch in her gallery and drop her head in her hands no doubt crying.

The woman I vowed to protect with my every breath has been fine without me. The reality cuts deep. It’s not that I want her to hurt. No, I want her life to be okay. It’s just so much to process. She’s alive and fine without me.

“You’re smarter than this Rowdy. We don’t do shit half-cocked, not with this caliber of criminal.” Collector says bringing me back to reality. As much as I don’t want to leave her, he’s right.

I don’t speak. I can’t.

Instead, I just climb on my bike and crank the engine letting the steady tick of the v-twin Harley calm the rush running through me. For the first time since I got out of lock up there is no calm. Every inch I put between the two of us, is like another knife to my already bleeding heart.

The ride to the hotel isn’t far, but it’s long enough for me to get tangled up in a mix of bad thoughts, emotions, and a history to match any famous tragedy.

My wife isn’t dead.

I was played again by the Forbes family.

First, Paul dragging me into all his shit. It all started so long ago, but in my mind it plays just like it was yesterday.

“You know what you’re gettin’ into?” I ask him as he inspects the work I did on the Chevy for him.

“Cloverville ain’t got opportunity, Jackson. You know that. I don’t want to be bangin’ nails till I’m eighty.”

“Construction pays well, bro. You make a good livin’ and you’re damn good at it.”

“Fuck that sweatin’ my ass off shit. Make some drops, see the states, and get fuckin’ paid, Jackson.”

I look down at my brother in law. He has brown hair and green eyes that match his sister’s “This kinda shit, Paul. This kinda shit ends up with body bags.”

“Have some faith in me, bro. I’m gonna make it so that Momma, Michele, hell, so we’re all set. No more social security as a retirement plan. I’m gonna be the one to take care of our family like Pops never did.”

And that is what it always boiled down to. Paul watched his mother struggle for too long. When I started sneaking money from my part-time job afterschool to Michele’s mom, Paul took it as an insult. I didn’t give a fuck. For me, it wasn’t about him. He took that shit personally, carried that weight, that’s on him, not me. My woman’s mom needed a leg up. I was willing to give it.

He may not have liked that it was coming from someone else, but it was there.

“They’ve got her in deep,” Collector says standing beside me outside of the hotel.

“What do we know?”

As hard as it was when I was released to sit back and be patient, it’s the best thing Collector taught me. Like then, right now the best thing we can do is slow down to sort our facts. We know she’s tied to the Almanza crime family, who are known for running drugs from South America to Canada. There reach is wide and far. The deeper we dig the less we seem to learn though, which isn’t comforting.

While we were scoping her place, Judge and X reached out to their circle for information on exactly who we’re dealing with here.

“Javi Almanza is in charge, but it’s Antonio who decided to take Michele in as his pet.” Judge explains standing with us. “From what X could sort with his street contacts, Javi Almanza has made waves in the last ten years. He’s a top player. At his right hand is Antonio his cousin. Their father’s were brothers. They grew up in the same house in the slums of Mexico City. Javi was a determined son-of-a-bitch to make his way to America and live the good life.”

“How did Michele end up in this shit?” I ask needing to know.

“Bates brought her in. Still not sure the leverage he used to get her to go to such extremes.”

I shake my head and for the first time since I killed the fucker, I wish I hadn’t.

“Don’t,” Collector orders knowing what I did, why I did it, and knowing it’s eating at me.

“Just wish I could ask him why her?” I tell the group honestly. “Why fuckin’ drag my wife into it?”

No one answers. There is no answer. The man who knows is long gone and by my hand.

My stomach does somersaults in revolt.

We move inside X’s room to circle around a small table inside. Dragging chairs from the table sets in each of rooms, we crowd the space while Emerson, Hadley, and Tamalyn decide to go to the laundry room at the hotel to get caught up. I know it’s so we can have time to sort things, but I’m thankful for not having to ask them to.

We are six nomad bikers that formed our own club. These women have joined because of their love for men who won’t turn their backs on brotherhood. Since this isn’t a typical motorcycle club we do share things with them. In time, I will explain what’s going on. Right now, my sole focus is sorting out Michele’s shit and what it means for us.

Judge sits back in the chair as Trapper stands up unable to stay sitting and instead paces the area in the back.

“Got a call from Casey Ray. Cloverville task force is takin’ the case on the drive bye. They got no ties to any of us so we’re in the clear.” X informs Collector.

“Thank fuck for a cousin who understands the line between wrong and right gets blurred.” Collector sighs and it takes me back to when I needed him most. I wasn’t out of jail a week and I was looking for trouble. My mind replays it like it was yesterday.

“Damn big boy, you bulked up.” Bates goads me sitting on the barstool at Knuckle Busters Bar.

I take the stool beside him. “Jack straight,” I give my order to Porter.

“Damn good to see ya, Jackson,” my highschool buddy says before pouring the shot. “Casey Ray told me word was you were back home.”

Porter Ramsey is a country boy with everything ahead of him until his daddy shot his mom and killed himself leaving Porter without a guardian to become property of the state. As soon as he turned eighteen, he had to get out of the foster home he was in to make room for someone else. With his life in disarray, he took a job here at Knuckle Buster’s and he’s been here ever since.

Casey Ray is his on again, off again girlfriend who happens to now be a low ranking deputy with the Cloverville Sheriff’s Department. Not only is she connected to Porter, but she’s Dover Ragnes’ cousin.

Dover Ragnes has been the one person from home to visit me in all the years I was locked up. He came only after he sorted out Lee Bates, his own partner, set me up along with tampering with multiple other crimes in the city. Ragnes can’t get enough evidence to go over Bates command and he knows now I want my own retribution.

“Good to be free,” I say the words without feeling a single emotion other than rage.

Lee Bates takes a long pull from his beer. “Time at the yard did you good,” he tries to be casual with me as Porter steps away to serve another patron.

I toss back the shot letting the Tennessee Whiskey burn all the way to my gut. The glass clanks as I set it back on the bar.

“Bates, know it was you who killed Paul,” I keep my voice low. “And you should know, I spent every hour I could at the yard, day after motherfuckin’ day for eight years with one thing on my mind.”

The man looks me in the eye not backing down from my challenge.

“Yeah, Jackson what was that?”

“Making sure within the first thirty days I was free I would be the one to squeeze the life from your body with my bare fuckin’ hands. I want to feel you struggle. I want to have the power of your last moment.”

The man laughs and picks up his beer. “Sorry buddy, but that shit ain’t gonna happen.”

I stand, the stool scraping on the old wooden floor. “I’m not your buddy. Today is day five. I have twenty-five to go. Mark my words, your time to die was years ago, but vengeance is a sweet bitch that saved your last moment for me. I’m comin’ for ya Bates.”

I grip his shoulder.

“And you should know I’m gonna make it painful.”

Without a second extra, I turn my back to the man and leave my words to sink in with him.

Collector helped me make sure the body would never be found and no evidence would implicate me in the murder. Here we are so many years later thick as thieves and no one will ever get my undying loyalty without a single question the way Dover ‘Collector’ Ragnes will.