Reverence: MC Romance (The Davis Chapter Book 3) (5 page)

 
With Romero gone, I was left alone with my thoughts. I had nothing but time to think about the roller coaster that was my life. For every great thing that happened, there was some tragedy close behind. Every high came crashing down. I shook myself out of the funk. I needed to do something to occupy my mind. Luckily, Romero’s place was a mess.

After throwing on a T-shirt and pair of shorts that I kept at Romero’s, I started tidying up. With a little bit of music going and my hands busy, some of the numbness and confusion subsided. I knew there were many questions left unanswered, but until Romero got back, they would remain that way. There was no need to get myself worked up. I did that enough. It was time to start changing the way I lived.

Romero was gone just long enough for me to start worrying. The Devil’s Branch would be out looking for anyone associated with the Sons. Every second that went. by I was sure that they had found him. Hearing a motorcycle pull into the drive, I peeked through the curtains. My hopes were that it was Romero, but it could’ve been a biker from either gang. My heart eased when I saw his familiar aviators.

Once inside, he got right down to business, saying, “They want to meet you.”

My heart pounded in my chest. What good could come of that? “Oh God, why?”

“Well, for one thing, they want to make sure you are on the level. They’ve heard your name, but nobody
knows
you. They don’t generally fight for someone they haven’t met.” Romero must’ve seen my worry because he smiled “And they want to meet the girl who stole my heart.”

I had to smile. As usual, Romero could make me feel better after almost anything. “Really?”

He pulled me close, planting a hard kiss on my lips. My knees went weak against his strength. When he broke the kiss, I slowly opened my eyes. He bit his bottom lip in a way that made me quiver. “Really.”

My nerves were shot as we drove to the Watering Hole, the bar that the Rising Sons called home base. They weren’t my enemy, but for the past six months, it had been drilled into me by my father and the Devil’s Branch. Romero had given me a little pep talk to try and calm me, but the closer we got, the tighter I held him on the back of his chopper.

The place reminded me a lot of the bar that the Devil’s Branch called home. It had the same hole-in-the-wall feel that was probably designed to keep most of the weekend warriors away. It was a simple building, but you knew right away it was a biker hangout. The sign was barely visible, and it looked like the site of more than one scuffle. Anticipation was getting the better of me when Romero parked his bike next to at least a dozen more. A dozen bikers inside waiting to meet me, grill me, and judge me. Just fucking perfect.

After taking off the helmet that Romero insisted I wear when I rode with him, I gave him my best
let’s get this over with
smile. “Hey, I know this isn’t easy for you. You probably feel like Dorothy just after the tornado drops her in Oz.”

I looked around at the collection of custom bikes and painted Harleys. True, I had felt a little black and white earlier, but red and orange flames and colorful pin-ups weren’t exactly the Merry Old Land of Oz.

I shook my head and rolled my eyes at Romero. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Just stick by my side and answer their questions. I promise they won’t be too harsh.”
 

I heard the indistinct chatter of voices as we got closer to the door. As soon as we pushed through, though, the voices all died away in an instant. A dozen bikers looked at me as if I were the Devil herself. They were tattooed, bearded, and all wearing the Rising Sons’ cut. On top of all of that, they looked pissed as hell. I might as well have been my father in that moment. I saw hatred, disgust, and even lust. I couldn’t blame them for being angry, but they were animals.

One man stepped forward with a tight, forced smile on his face. “Welcome.” Nothing could ever sounded less welcoming in my entire life. “The name’s Trask.”

Even without looking at his cut, I knew that Trask Rivers ran the Rising Sons. If I had a nickel for every time my dad cursed his name, I’d have my tuition paid for. Captain had called Trask every name in the book, but I never really knew why. There never seemed to be much reason besides hating them only because they existed.

He extended a hand, and I took it. “I’ve heard your name once or twice.” I don’t know whether my attempt at being cool passed, but maybe it was more for me than for them.

After a firm shake, he broke and turned back to his men. “Well, how about that? I’m famous.” Some of the men chuckled, but most of them didn’t take their eyes off me. Maybe I should’ve been a little more humble, I don’t know.

“All right, all right. Don’t treat her like she’s her father.” Romero’s voice was cold, and I loved hearing him stick up for me. It made me feel like I was his.

Trask turned back to me, any humor in his face completely gone. “So you know a thing or two about this here club. I think that’s as good a place to start as any, don’t you?”

My eyes widened, and my heartbeat found even more speed. What kind of info did they want? “Look, I really don’t know much. My father bitches and moans about the Rising Sons twenty-four/seven, but it’s not like he goes into specifics with me.”

“What’s the yearly take?”
 

Before I could look to who had spoken, another biker chimed in, “What kind of weapons have they got squirreled away?”

A husky voice filled with distain said, “Who do they have in their pocket?”
 

I tried to follow the voices, but the questions came at me way too fast for me to handle. The tone was harsh from every biker in the joint.

“How long you been fucking Romero?”

Trask put his hands up. “All right, this isn’t the fuckin’ Spanish Inquisition. She’s not in the club, so let’s not grill her like she is. I wanna hear her story, and we’ll go from there, capische?“

He looked around the room, but none of the bikers said a word. “That’s what I thought. Treat her like a damn lady, for fuck’s sake.” Trask turned to me, motioning toward a chair. “Why don’t you tell us your story, little darlin’?”

As if my heart wasn’t racing enough, now I had to tell them my life’s story? Even Romero wasn’t enough to keep me from going crazy. I still felt like I was in the lion’s den.

When I finally took a seat, I couldn’t stand to look at anyone but Romero. Any time my eyes scanned over the room, I kept them over the heads of the other Sons. I couldn’t make myself meet any of their hard gazes.

I gave them a quick retelling. It wasn’t like I could give them a long one anyway. I didn’t know much about the club. The most valuable piece of information I had was that my dad had recently lost a big connection.

“The
head honcho
. That’s all my dad ever called him. I didn’t know if it was guns or drugs. With the deal he was trying to arrange with Harris, guns would be my guess.”
 

Trask stepped in, saying, “It actually is drugs. The head honcho was a distributor by the name of Blythe. He brought the product over from South America, and the Devil’s Branch then manage the shipments across the West Coast and most of the Southwest. Blythe was worth somewhere in the neighborhood of fifty mil a year.”

I knew my father did bad things, some of those bad things probably happened to good people, but dealing hard drugs? Stuff that polluted humanity? It was almost impossible to imagine, but then I remembered how easily my father had tried to get me to be his bargaining chip. I didn’t think he was incapable of anything anymore.

I looked from Romero to Trask. “I don’t understand. It really seems like he’s putting all his eggs in the weapons basket. Why?”

The president shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe he’s expecting the South Americans to come up here. Maybe the D.B.s are trying to get out of the drug business and switch to guns. With all the ammo scares floating around lately, there’s a pretty penny to be made.”

Romero stepped forward, frustration in his voice as he said, “Could we speculate later? We have a more pressing matter at hand. A body is going to be found by morning at the
latest
, and we know that they will pin it on us.”

Trask stared at Romero for a second. “And? Aren’t they right to do point the blame at us?”

“It was an accident. Ask Julie.”

“You don’t understand.” Trask’s voice grew like a thunderhead. It made me actually flinch. “I don’t give a shit if a meteor struck him in the fuckin’ head. You were standing next to him when it happened, and so it’s on you. That’s what it means to have enemies. All they need is an excuse, and you gave them one wrapped in a shiny-ass bow, Romero. I got no problem with love. More power to you, but when you put the club in jeopardy by sleeping with the enemy? That really puts us in a bind. Are we taking down an entire motorcycle club because of your cock?”

Romero started screaming at Trask, and every other biker in the place joined in the argument.

Something inside of me broke. I knew they all hated me, but I just couldn’t take it any longer. I threw my hands over my face and ran for the door. I had to get outside for some fresh air.
 

I was torn in two directions. My father had betrayed my trust, but did he deserve what the Rising Sons were planning? I didn't know.
 

As I stood out in the blazing sun, my mind swirled. I could still hear the Sons arguing inside. Knowing that I was the cause of the fight only made things worse. Romero had stood up for me and gone against his entire club; his entire family.

The door opened, the argument growing. I turned around, thinking Romero would be there to comfort me. It wasn’t Romero. It wasn’t anyone I had seen while I had been inside. She was in her mid-forties. I assumed she was someone’s ol’ lady coming out for a smoke. Turning away, I shook my head and sighed.

“You’ve caused quite a ruckus in there.”

My patience had already worn thin, and I was in no mood to be polite. I couldn't manage to give the woman more than, “Mm hm.”

I was staring at the row of motorcycles. Each one of them belonging to another Rising Son. Romero’s bike stood out to me because I knew it so well. He was the only one who stood up for me. It took everything to stop me from kicking over the row of bikes over.

The woman beside me flicked a lighter and took a drag. “Honey, you can be pissed all you want, but you’ve got to get your shit together.”

The woman had pushed me over the edge. I spun back around, ready to vent every bit of frustration out at her. She was leaning against the wall, a tight smile on her face. The anger inside of me froze. There was something in her eyes that made me realize I’d regret blowing up at her. Instead, a tear fell down my cheek.

She nodded and tapped at the end of her smoke. As the ashes fell, she spoke, “I’ve worked for the Sons as long as they’ve been in Davis. Never seen them so torn up over something or someone. Romero was their golden boy. Then a few months back, he started disappearing and missing some crucial work. You have anything to do with that?”

Romero had mentioned once or twice that he’d skipped club business for me, but I never thought that it mattered so much. At the time, it was a romantic gesture. As the woman spoke, I realized that the world did consist of more than just the two of us.
 

My voice quivered, “Yeah, I think I’m at fault there.” I gave her a sheepish smile.

She nodded. “He has talked a lot about the woman he was seeing. There was a big fight that went down a few weeks back. I don't know much about it, but for two things: they were asking about why Romero wasn’t around, and one of their brothers —a good man— died in that fight.”

“Oh my god.” I stared at her.

The woman nodded. “I’m not saying he’d be alive if Romero had been in the fight, but the odds certainly would have been better. I’m not telling you all of this to shovel more guilt onto you. I can see you’re already carrying your fair share. I’m telling you because you need to know why there’s one hell of a shouting match going on in there.”

“I never meant for any of this to happen. I never meant for the fight to break out.”