Fall 2016, Southern Idaho

Jasper

“Fuck! Gunner! What the fuck did you eat?” The giant stuck next to me in this cage has been farting for nearly two hours now. Bad enough we’re in the truck rather than on our bikes for this trip, but Connal had needed some parts for a specialty build he was doing and it worked out better for Gunner and I to pick everything up on the way back from our meeting in California.

“Same as you, Jas,” He moans. “I feel like fucking shit. We gotta find a bathroom.”

I look at him, shaking my head; it was dark and the storm outside showed no sign of dissipating, plus it had been at least an hour since we last stopped. He was in that john for thirty minutes. God only knows the damage he did there.

“At this rate, I don’t know, Man. There’s nothing coming up on the GPS that will do any good.” The light from the dashboard wasn’t helping his sweaty, sallow complexion any.

“FUCK!” Looking back at the road after a glance in his direction, I see dim tail lights coming from the woods to our right and what I take to be a body sprawled out near the back of the car. Braking fast enough to fishtail, I get control of the truck and ease it off the road. “Gunner, man, you gotta suck it up. I don’t know if this is legit or not.” Hoping he can stand long enough to keep an eye on my back.

“Then fucking leave it, Pres,” He says even as he starts to look around. I reverse back to the vehicle and we both get our weapons ready. Gunner favors a Glock, I’m more of a Sig man, myself.

Giving him a long look, he knows why I won’t. Four years back my brother, Chris, riding on his Hog, had been struck by a car on a highway. The driver freaked out and kept going; Chris lay unaided on the side of the road until he finally bled out. Coroner’s report estimated it took nearly two hours.

Took me nearly a year to find the bastard, now I figure I have another ten years or so before the driver’s son comes looking for the man who bleed his father out. Who knows, maybe he’ll grow up to be a good Christian man who doesn’t live by ‘An Eye for An Eye’ or maybe the trail back to me will be too cold by then.

Getting out, I slowly approach the person; nearly wiping out in the mud a couple times. Finally on top of the body, I lightly kick the foot that is sticking out. No reaction.

Looking back to Gunner, I nod, reaching over to poke into the back of the dark coat. A soft moan reaches my ears over the noise of the storm around us. Grabbing a shoulder, I slowly shift the person onto their back. A piercing scream cuts through the night and I can now see it’s a woman. She arches up but stops halfway up, and sags back down.

“Open the back door,” I call to Gunner as I reach under her arms to lift her, fireman’s style. Getting her over my shoulder, I brace myself trying to get us up the bank without wiping out, and position her on her side in the back seat.

Gunner has gone down to the old car and is returning with a duffle and the registration card. “She don’t look like a ‘Henry’ to me,” He says, flipping the card back in the direction of the vehicle and getting back into the front seat. “What are we going to do with her?”

“Can you do a search for the closest hospital? We can even get some Imodium for you when we drop her off.” I try to make light of this, while keeping one eye on the rear view mirror.

“No,” she calls out. “No hospital. Don’t. He’ll get me.”

Gunner and I exchange a look, not sure what to do with her. “What’s your name?” He asks in what is probably his most gentle voice.

“I’ll be ok, just, can you get me to a bus station?” She asks in a rapidly fading voice.

“Get some rest, we got you now.” I assure her, getting a quick glance from Gunner.

Back on the road we finally catch a break; I see a sign for a gas station twenty miles up. Speaking quietly, I tell Gunner to handle his business, buy Imodium, any first aide materials they have, and plenty of water. We’ll fill up the truck and drive straight through to Rowansville.

“You sure about this, Pres?” Gunner only throws in my MC title when he doesn’t agree with me.

“No.” Is all I say, leaving us in silence for the next nineteen miles.

Pulling to the far pump, Gunner and I both jump out and complete our tasks. I hope the big guy’s stomach is getting better cause I’m going to have him drive while I tend to our passenger.

Shielding the view of the woman we picked up as he loads the backseat with his purchases, Gunner gets in the driver’s seat at the tilt of my head and gets us back on the road. With a cloth and some of the water, I start to gently wipe the dirt from her face. She whimpers a bit but seems to understand that I’m trying to help. Someone did a number on her alright; a lefty, as the right side of her face is all swollen.

Nearly finished with her face and knowing she won’t like the next stage of my plan, I tap her on her nose. Her eyes pop open and seeing them for the first time I smile; remembering the cornflowers my mother grew when I was a boy. Her eyes are the same shade of blue.

“Darlin’? I’m gotta get you out of your shirt now,” I put my finger over her lips as she starts to protest. “You’re freezing from the rain and we both know you have more wounds for me to check.”

“No, I don’t need your help. Just drop me off.” She repeats her earlier order.

“Too late for that, just hold still,” I unfold the blanket I had retrieved from the back, laying it partially on her; I hold her delicate hands aside with one of my large paws while I unbutton her shirt with my other hand. I look down to find her staring at me unblinking.

“I help you, you gonna to go back to him?” I grunt out.

She gasps, “Never. It took me long enough to get away.” Tears finally escape her eyes and she relaxes her hands, reaching for the blanket. Looking down at her creamy skin, I see two things; she was beaten with a belt that must have been sporting a large buckle and she isn’t wearing a bra.

Her breasts are the only part of her skin that have neither a new nor fading mark. They are absolutely perfect with large rosy nipples, very erect nipples at the moment. She reaches up for the back of the seat and I help her move into a sitting position.

Her shirt has dried into the blood from cuts on her back. Trying to figure out the best way to remove it, she makes the decision for me, yanking it down. A section on her lower back is still stuck, so I finish tearing it from her.

“Good girl. Let’s see what I can do here, ok?” I whisper, unsure of where to start.

“What’s your name?” She asks, holding still as I start cleaning the broken skin with a cloth.

“Jasper, and that’s Gunner. You ready to tell me yours yet, Darlin’?” Her silence hangs between us for a few moments.

“I’ve always been called by my middle name; I’d like to start using my first though.” I work without comment, letting her take her time.

“Emma, I want to be Emma now.” She finally breathes out.

Gunner grunts from the front seat and we’re hit with another gas bomb, making us both groan and reach for the nearest window switch. “I don’t know what I ate but its fucking killing me.”

Finding both hydrogen peroxide and Neosporin among Gunner’s purchases, I decide to start with the peroxide. Warning Emma beforehand, she doesn’t move once I start disinfecting the cuts on her back.

As I finish, I let her clean the two areas with broken skin on her stomach; her front is more bruised than cut. Once she’s done, I dab Neosporin on her and start applying band aids. Reaching back into my bag, I get a flannel shirt and wrap it around her.

Leaning over to whisper in her ear, “Are you hurt or bleeding anywhere else, Darlin’? Don’t be shy; we can stop at a motel if you need more care.”

“Nowhere else. Thank you for your kindness.” She says, tensing up as soon as I started whispering in her ear. Helping to get her on her side, with her head on my lap, I slowly smooth her dirty, tangled hair until she falls asleep.

I know Gunner’s been watching me pretty steadily from the rear view mirror, and I finally look up to make eye contact.

“She’s not a stray dog, Jas.”

“No, she’s not a stray dog, Gunner.”

“Tell me you aren’t thinking about keeping her?” He grunts out.

“Keep your voice down.” I reply in a low but sharp voice.

“Fuck.” He growls.

“No shit.”

“Speaking of that, I’ve got to drop another deuce.”

“How is there anything left in you at this point?” I groan this time, more worried about the hold up in getting Emma somewhere safe.

“Fuck if I know. We’ve got another thirty minutes or so until the next gas station, you’ll want to crack your window again.” He shrugs, looking straight ahead.

I take his advice before leaning my head back against the headrest; closing my eyes trying to figure out what to do with the woman who fell into my lap.

There are some spare rooms at the MC’s clubhouse, but the guys who live there will be sniffing around her in no time flat. Plus the noise level there almost every night would make resting impossible and walking through the main room, where the Girlies are doing their thing? Fuck no. Not good enough for her.

I laugh to myself, thinking about the new girl Vice had brought in the day before Gunner and I left on this gun run. She had eagerly sucked me off while taking Vice from behind; I had been looking forward to spending a little time with her, if she was still there when we got back. The MC girls at the California Chapter had also been really enthusiastic with Gunner and I these past few days; guess we’re not the only ones who go for variety.

Now the only thing I wanted was to protect this woman. I saw the look in her eyes when I asked if she was going back to her abuser; she’s a strong one, stronger than I’m sure she feels right now. I’ll show her, if she’ll let me.

There was never any question of my mom walking away from my father, no matter how many times he tore into her. My brother Chris and I tried, time and again to help her, to convince her to kick his ass out but she always made excuses for him.

Like her, we were on the receiving of our father’s fists from early childhood; right up until that day he went too far. Chris was older than me, he had just turned thirteen. He understood what I didn’t. Why dad kicked us out of the house and locked mom in the bedroom with his brother. What her screaming meant. Chris got me to the shed out back and made me stay, going back towards the house with a shovel.

That was the day I lost everyone.

Chris killed our dad and turned our uncle into a vegetable; good riddance to them. But mom wasn’t much more than a zombie after that and Chris got sent to juvie until he was eighteen. Mom and I had some welfare and I picked up odd jobs where I could.

Flint ran the MC back then and had a place up the street from us. I had known his son before Flint’s ex left and took the kids to Arizona; he was spending most his time at the clubhouse but always slid some money my way to keep an eye on his empty house.

Flint watched out for me when he thought of it. As I got older and he realized I was cutting school most days to hang out near the clubhouse, he sat me down and asked me my plans. By then I was fifteen and knew it all, I was joining the Grizzlies. He laughed in my face. Told me to come back with my high school diploma before he’d consider letting me be a Probie.

The next day, I went back to school and eventually graduated in the top twenty percent of my class. Flint and my brother were the only ones who showed up to watch me graduate. I became a Probie the next day, now twelve years later I’m the Grizzlies’ President.

I thought I had it all. I just didn’t know what I was missing, until Emma stared up at me.