Reaper
The night wind beats against my face as I ride back toward the compound. Laying it all out there for Anna had done nothing to calm me down. Hell, it wasn’t even Anna I was really pissed at. Laurie’s the one I actually wanted to lose my shit on, but since I don’t have the first fucking clue where that bitch is, Anna bore the brunt of my anger.
I didn’t say anything I didn’t mean, though. Anna’s no different than Laurie. Both of them only think about themselves, and bitches like that really are a poison. Not only to an MC, but to anyone who ever gave a shit about them. But still, Anna’s whispered words haunt me as I ride. I’m trying to change.
Fuck. In all honesty, I don’t believe that whore can change, just like I’d told her. I’m the type of man that doesn’t mince words. I say what I’m thinking, and I always tell the truth—almost always, anyway. One thing I’d said to her hadn’t been completely honest, though. I’d called her ass scrawny, and while that had once been true, it certainly didn’t escape my notice that it wasn’t the case anymore.
When Anna had been around before, right as all that shit went down with Charlotte and the Devil’s Rejects, she’d been so thin. Unhealthy, even. She had been gorgeous, but frail looking. One look at her now, and it was easy to see that had changed. Anna has definitely filled out. Though I hadn’t been able to see her ass from behind the bar, I was able to see that her upper body and her face have both filled out nicely, and her tits were virtually spilling out of the top of her tight, little black lace-up tank top. She looked fucking healthy. Incredible, actually, and I hated it. I hated that the sight of her peaked any kind of interest anywhere inside of me. I’d already been fucked over by one whore, and I’d be damned if I let another do the same.
Flashing lights and the scream of a siren startle me from my brooding. There are almost no cars on the road at this time of night, and I’d been so lost in my own head that I hadn’t noticed the police cruiser following right on my ass. For fuck’s sake.
Gritting my teeth, I slow and pull over to the side of the road. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t speeding, so I have no clue what reason they have this time for pulling me over. But I’m too tired and drained right now to give a shit. The city cops around here know who every member of the Kings are, and they like to pull this shit every once in a while, just to remind us who’s in charge. Or, at least, who they think is in charge.
I turn off the motor and place my feet on the ground, watching in the left rearview mirror as a tall uniformed police officer steps out of his car, the lights still flashing wildly on the roof. He approaches slowly, his hand over the butt of his sidearm, his eyes seeming to scan my bike and me for any sign of a threat. Just hurry the fuck up, asshole. I need a beer, a blowjob, and an uninterrupted eight hours in my bed.
As he steps up on my left side, I turn to face him. “License and registration,” he says, his flashlight beam hitting me directly in the eyes.
“It’s in the saddlebag,” I say, gesturing to the bag behind me. “And can you cool it with the spotlight? I can’t get my papers if I can’t fuckin’ see.” I know enough to be somewhat respectful. I haven’t done shit wrong here, but an altercation with the law isn’t going to help in Ryk’s mission to play things straight for a while.
“Just get the papers out, Mr. Landry,” he orders, his flashlight moving to hit me more directly.
So, apparently, this guy wants to be a prick, and he knows exactly who I am. Just what I need. Turning, I keep one hand in the air as I try to locate what I need by touch, seeing as I’m fucking blind at the moment.
My fingertips brush the edge of the paper I keep tucked into the side pocket of the bag and I pull it out, handing it over to him. “My licence is in my wallet, which is in my back pocket.”
I can’t see him at all. All I can see is the round circle of light with a dark outline standing behind it. The dark outline has a voice, though. “Get it, slowly.”
Still keeping one arm in the air, I reach back and pull out my worn, black leather wallet and hold it up to show him. With my hands in front of me, I flip it open and pull out the plastic card, proving I have a right to be out on my motorcycle any damn time I please. “What’s your reason for pulling me over?”
“Speeding,” he clips, his flashlight now aimed at my papers, allowing my eyes a chance to recover. Bright circles dance in my vision as I try to get a better look at his face.
“I wasn’t fuckin’ speeding,” I grind out. I hate assholes like this guy. Cops with a superiority complex that think just because a guy that looks like me is out at this time of night, he’s up to no good.
The flashlight beam comes back up to hit me full in the face. “You saying I’m lying?” And there it is. The challenge in his voice makes me realize that arguing with this fuckwad is exactly what he wants. He has nothing, but if I give him a hard time, he can take me in on disorderly conduct. Who knows why this guy is looking for trouble, but I’m in no mood to give it to him right now.
“Just write the fuckin’ ticket then. I want to go the hell home.”
The cop chuckles, but there’s nothing good-natured about the way it comes out. “Oh, you wish it was that easy, don’t you, Landry?” I stare through the flashlight, wishing I could get a decent look at his face. So far, I haven’t been able to, and I have no clue what his name is. Who the hell is this asshole anyway?
“Tell you what,” he says, not lowering the beam as he hands back my paperwork. “I’ll let you off with a warning for now, but remember that I did, because I have a feeling you and I are going to be getting to know each other a whole lot better real soon.” I can hear a malevolent kind of pleasure in his voice when he says, “Have a good night, Mr. Landry.”
I take the papers back, aiming my glare at him as he backs away. Did he just fucking threaten me? I turn in my seat and watch as he spins back toward his car and gets inside, the interior light not on long enough for me to get a good look at him. What the hell was that all about?
Anna
I stare up at the old stone church, my heart lodged in my throat. I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to go in there. I don’t want to rehash my story, yet again, for a crowd of strangers, just to make them feel better about their own miserable lives. But I have to. I’d promised Knox that I would find a meeting, and that I would keep up with them, making sure to get at least one in every week. Part of me wants to lie, to tell him that I went and just ditch it altogether, but I can’t. I’ve been able to lie with ease to every single person in my life, but never to Knox. He’d seen right through me every time I’d tried.
Gathering my courage and swallowing down my unease, I begin to climb the stone steps leading to the huge, carved, wooden doors. One step at a time, Anna.
“The meetings are around the side entrance,” a voice calls out, breaking my focus and causing me to yelp. Turning, my eyes land on the elderly man standing just a few feet away. He lifts his hand and points to a small sign, advertising that the joint Alcoholics Anonymous and Narcotics Anonymous meeting is indeed at the side entrance.
My cheeks flame, and I lower my eyes as I turn and brush past him. “Thanks,” I murmur.
He doesn’t try to speak to me again, but I can hear his footsteps on the sidewalk, not too far behind my own. Knowing he’s so close, I don’t have time to dwell anymore on how much I hate these meetings before opening the door. Instead, I reach for the curved handle and pull it wide, holding it open and giving him a shy smile as he walks through.
“Thank you,” he says. He keeps walking, and I follow him this time toward a room down the hall, where several voices carry on conversations, sharing hushed chuckles, and the drone of more serious chatter. Just as the man is about to go into the room, he looks back over his shoulder and gives me an encouraging smile, then he’s gone.
I stop dead in my tracks, my entire body now trembling with anxiety. I can’t do this. I can’t go in there. I’ll join an online group or something, but I can’t go to another meeting. Retelling my story is too much for me right now, especially with Reaper’s words from yesterday banging around inside my head.
I hear the door to the outside open behind me and heavy footsteps as they approach, but the sound barely registers. The war inside my head continues. I don’t need these meetings anymore. It’s been almost a year. The only reason I even came to this one was because Knox made me promise, but I can’t do it. I’ll just tell him the truth, and he’ll have to deal.
Spinning around, I bolt for the door, barely making it two steps before my face smashes into a solid wall of muscle. Hands clamp around my elbows, steadying me as I give myself a shake. Finally, my eyes focus on the chest I’m pressed against, and when they land on the patch adorning the black leather vest, panic sets in.
“Anna?”
Oh God. Oh fuck. Terrified, my eyes lift, not sure if I’m ready to know who’s gripping me so tightly, and the fear lessens only slightly when they meet Bosco’s confused gaze. He blinks back at me, and his eyes drift over my shoulder to the room behind me before realization dawns on his handsome face.
“You’re here for the meeting too, huh?” he asks, a small smile playing at his lips.
I shake my head frantically as I yank away, out of his grip. “No, I…I…” I can’t think of one damn reason why I would be in the basement of a church, standing outside of an AA meeting besides I was attending it myself. “I gotta go,” I say quickly, moving around him.
“Anna,” he calls out, his voice filled with hesitation. “Nobody knows I come here either.” I turn and meet his eyes, noting the fear I see swirling in his. “Keep this between us, yeah?”
I force a smile and shrug. “Hey, that’s why it’s anonymous, right?”
He nods and watches me, but I can’t take his worried stare for another second. Nodding a curt goodbye, I turn and rush from the church. As I step onto the bus, just over a block away, a fresh bout of shame washes over me. I should have gone in there. I need to face my own demons, maybe now more than ever, and part of that’s going to those damn meetings, no matter how much it scares me.
Flopping down in the empty seat, I think about Bosco. The fact that he was at a meeting surprises me. I didn’t know bikers did that kind of thing, not even baby bikers. Bosco’s a prospect for the Kings, and can’t be any more than twenty-two years old. Just a baby. Knowing Bosco is back there, facing his demons when I didn’t even have the courage to glance into the room fills me with a fresh wave of shame.
Maybe Reaper was right, maybe I can’t change. I want to. I want to so badly, I can’t think of much else, but in order to do that, I have to stop living my life in fear. Especially if that fear is only fear of myself, and what I’m capable of doing.