AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter 6
Brat
The moon was glowing, casting a pale light on the Roost’s parking lot and the line of Harleys, standing tall and watchful. I eyed my black-on-black Sportster Nightster standing out amongst my sister’s more colorful bikes.
Then there were the much larger bikes of the Seville Slayers and the weekenders here as well. The smell of oil and asphalt wafted to my nose as I followed the biker president into the darkness. The silence was punctuated only by the distant hum of the highway and the occasional laughter spilling from the bar behind us.
We took a seat on an old picnic table away from the bikes, the wood worn smooth by countless conversations and confessions made under the cover of darkness. Sitting beside Riptide, Hudson, the powerful biker president of the Seville Slayers, was an experience that teetered on the surreal.
I’d heard tales of the myth, the legend. This was a biker who was my sworn enemy, his very presence a threat to everything I stood for. And I knew his contempt for the Heelz, for my sisters and in turn me. Yet, here we were, for very personal reasons, shrouded in a truce as precarious as the calm that hung between us.
He was the first to break the silence, his voice cutting through the night with a clarity that made me tense.
“Do I have to be the one to say it?” he asked, his gaze fixed on the moonlit sky. “What are you doing here, Star? Why didn’t you ever tell me about your family connections?”
His use of my real name, Star, sent a jolt through me, stressing our shared past and the secrets that had lain dormant between us. The question, innocently posed, seemed like an accusation, bringing back memories of a time when who I was and where I came from were topics too risky to delve into.
I turned to face him, the moon casting his features in a light that softened the hard edges of his biker persona.
“It was complicated, Hudson,” I started, the words feeling inadequate to explain the labyrinth of my past. “Back then, being the daughter of a notorious biker, well, two, the daughter of the Banshee as well… It was a legacy I wasn’t ready to claim. And you… You were just another high school jock, wrapped up in your own world.”
I watched as he absorbed my explanation, his expression translucent in the moonlight. My words meant to bridge across the chasm that our lives had become didn’t seem to sit so well with him.
“I was more than just a jock, Star,” he finally said, his voice low, a hint of something undefinable lurking beneath his tough exterior. “But I get it. We were kids, caught up in our own dramas. I guess I never saw beyond the surface, never thought to ask.”
His admission, so simple, cracked the veneer of animosity that had cloaked our interactions. It was a glimpse into the person he might’ve been, the person he still could be, under the layers of rivalry and resentment.
“You’ve changed, Hudson,” I started.
Rubbing his beard, he asked, “How so?”
“You’re much bigger for one thing, and the beard, the tattoos, the motorcycle…” I was counting on my fingers and could go on.
He flexed his muscles, showing off a bicep. “It didn’t happen overnight, so I forget about the scrawny thing I used to be.”
“You weren’t scrawny back then, but now…” I stopped myself. I didn’t aim to flatter him. But I was still in awe of his transformation. He was big enough in high school when he was a wrestler. Now he was massive.
“Well, look at you, Star. The hair, the tats, the bod. Fuck me. I didn’t recognize you until I heard that sweet voice of yours,” he said, his tone as smooth as honey. “You’ve changed, but I know you’re no killer.”
“Who said I was?” I asked, wondering for the first time if someone was out to get me.
“My men are pointing fingers at you. It doesn’t add up,” he admitted.
The silence settled back over us, but it was no longer awkward but contemplative, a space filled with the possibility of understanding, if not reconciliation. Positioned there, beside the man who had once haunted my high school days, now a powerful figure in a world we both navigated with caution, I realized how much we’d changed.
The dynamics of our past were no longer as simple as bully and victim, nor were the lines between us as clearly drawn as friend and foe. With each passing moment, the night seemed to stretch endlessly, gradually unveiling the intricate tapestry of our shared history and uncertain future.
Then Hudson’s hand found its way to my thigh, an unmistakable repeat of our past interactions. The touch was both familiar and jarring, reigniting a flurry of emotions I thought I’d long since mastered.
“You need to tell me what happened the other night,” he demanded, his mood leaving no room for evasion.
I stiffened under his touch, a visceral reminder of the control he once wielded over me, of the desire and resentment that had defined our hidden encounters. It was a power I was loath to acknowledge now, a vulnerability I couldn’t afford to reveal.
But as his hand lingered, a part of me, irrationally, inexplicably, yearned to lean into that touch, to revisit the heady rush of emotions he’d always managed to elicit. It was a moment of weakness, a crack in the armor I’d meticulously built around myself. With a deliberate effort, I shook off the remnants of his spell, reclaiming the distance between us. At least emotionally as his hand remained.
Drawing a deep breath, I recounted the events of the night my sisters and I had targeted his brothers. “We played them,” I began, the details spilling out with blunt precision. “Lured them into thinking they were getting lucky, only to leave them stranded and lighter in the wallet.”
“Which of my men were you with?” he asked, his voice like ice.
