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“You’re no better than the fucking slut that squeezed you out. Now get fucking out.” He roars after me. My chin trembles, and I bite my bottom lip as possible, hoping to stop it. I scramble to my feet, making it to the stairs and stop, hanging onto the banister. Stupidly, I look back at him. He picks up a bottle of single malt, lifts it to his lips and knocks back a shot, his eyes full of hatred as he glares at me.
It’s times like this I wish I’d died with my mom.
The loud bell and shouting from the guards wake me from the last memory I have of being with him, and as I pull myself to sit up, I give my head a good scratch and jump to the floor of my cell to quickly get dressed into my dull gray jailbird uniform. The doors clunk loudly as they automatically open, but as I look through the bars, I realize today is the day I get out of this hellhole. WhenI got the call from my lawyer last night to say I was being released, it was one of the best days of my fucking life. No more shitty food, no more lights out, and no more screws pushing me around for their own fun.
Fuck this place.
I’m never coming back.
As I head down to the canteen with a spring in my step, a hand on my chest stops me. “Not for you Brown, get your things together.”
“Fucking A!” I swing around and turn the corner back to my cell and say goodbye to the shithole that’s housed me for the last seven years.
The 20ft high automatic steel doors open slowly in front of me. It feels like I’ve been standing here for a lifetime, just waiting, desperate to see what’s outside those gates. When walls are all you’ve been looking at for the last seven years, the outside normal stuff you take for granted willbe heaven. They eventually crack, sliding open slowly; it's definitely a sight for sore eyes. My head drops back on my shoulders; I breathe the fresh air through my nose, blowing it out slowly as the humid air heats my face.
“Hey, Brown. Move forward,” The guard yells from behind me. He shoves me in the back, propelling me forward. Asshole. I turn my head to the side slightly to stare at him from over my shoulder. Seeing him in my peripheral vision, I lift my hand above my shoulder and give him the bird.
“See ya, dickhead.”
I chuckle low as I step forward, but he speaks again. “You’ll be back, guys like you always are.”
Spinning around to face him, my arms spread at my sides, I laugh this time. “Get fucked.” And thrust both of my middle fingers in the air. I whirl back around and give them my back. My knees buckle, and I drop to the ground as the steel gates slam shut, my palms meet the dirt. I push my body forward and plant my forehead on the dusty ground. I never thought I’d be so happy to be on my knees in the dirt.
Seven years.
Seven years since I’ve seen the outside of those gates.
Seven years since I’ve had any pussy.
Seven years since I’ve seen my brothers, apart from a couple of them.
“Yo, motherfucker.” A grin tugs at my mouth. I’m so lost in the moment of finally being free, I don’t even see him pull up. I remove the dirt from my head with a swipe of my hand and look at the familiar voice. “Stop that fucking praying shit, and let’s go. We got a fifty-mile ride home.”
Reaper. The VP for Brothers of Sin and the guy I depend on most. We’ve been buddies since I first came to the club. I was sixteen when I ran from home looking for shelter and found it in the yard of the MC. I’ve never looked back since.
He sits astride his Harley, looking meaner than I’ve ever seen; he’s added a tattoo to his neck, complete coverage from what I can see. He revs the engine, getting impatient, and I jump to my feet. Once I’m at my full height of six foot four, I look down the track. “What the fuck you waiting for?” Reaper shouts impatiently.
“Um, where’s the truck?” I ask, looking around again.
“Being fixed. Jump on.”
My mouth falls open. I hope he doesn’t think I’m getting on there. “Oh, fuckin’ hell no!” I slowly shake my head, he fucking does too. “There’s no fuckin’ way in hell that I’m ridin’ bitch.”
Reaper puts a foot to the ground, sighs impatiently and lifts his sunglasses from his eyes, “You’re shittin’ me, right?” He has to be fucking joking. My hands fall to my hips, and again, my head shakes. I wonder to myself when the punchline is going to come. The sweat beads on my brow from the blazing sun. Swiping the back of my hand, I wipe my brow and push my hair back from my face, getting my fingers tangled in my overly long hair as I comb them through.
“You can be my bitch any day, baby.” Reaper winks, grinning like this is fucking funny. “Well, if you don’t, you’ve got a hell of a walk back to the clubhouse.”
He revs the engine again, getting more impatient by the minute. God, I’ve missed that rumble and can’t wait to get back on a bike. I need to feel the power between my legs again. The power of my bike, not fucking his.
“Fuck,” Loudly, I huff and turn around, I look down the road, and when I see no one else is coming, I turn back to Reaper again. A stupid fucking smirk tugs at his lips, it isn’t going to be there long, but right now, it’s either ride bitch on his bike and have the piss ripped out of me for the next fuck knows how long or walk. And there’s no fucking way I’m walking fifty fucking miles, especially in this bastard heat.
A growl rumbles in the back of my throat, and reluctantly, I make my way over, kicking up the dirt as I go. With my very few belongings shoved into a box on the back, I slide onto the back of the seat. “No fucking touching me, do you get me?” I tell him firmly as I position myself as far back on the seat as I can and reach behind me, holding onto the bars beneath the seat. This is a fucking joke.
“You mean not even like this?” he pushes his hand behind, and I watch as it works its way to my thigh.
“Fuck off, man.” I shove his hand away as he laughs loudly. “Take me fucking home and stop around the corner so I can get off.” I tell him firmly. I’ll jump off around the corner from the clubhouse. If they haven’t seen me, there’s no proof of it. Reaper pulls away, and I fix my eyes on the passing scenery, ready to leave this fucking shithole behind me. One thing I do know, I don’t want to come back here in a fucking hurry, or ever if I have anything to do with it.
As Reaper takes the bend, I feel his bike slowing. A frown pulls at my forehead as I turn to look in front of me to see what’s ahead. A blockade made of bikes is in front, and to the side is a truck. My brothers are all here, laughing and clapping their hands like a bunch of bitches. They fucking set me up.
