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“Look, I’m sorry that I left that night. I’m sorry that I never communicated with you and that I didn’t talk to you.”
I remain silent. Waiting for more. I need more. That wasn’t enough. I give him a slow blink.
“I’ve thought about you every day since I left Detroit. I swear it.” He blows out a breath and runs his fingers through his hair, tugging at the strands. “Look, when my mom passed away, I lost it. I mean Ireallylost it. At the time, I felt like she was the only person I could rely on and had in my corner and when she passed I felt like a goddamn orphan.”
He takes a minute to take a deep breath and sits down on the bed beside me. I keep watching him and looking for any tell that he isn’t telling me the truth, but I can’t find one.
“I ran away. I was a thirty-year-old man who ran away from home. It was too painful to be there. My mom had strict instructions in place to not have a funeral, so I didn’t. I had her cremated and then I got my motorcycle out of the garage and just got on it and hit the road and didn’t stop running from everything until I got here.” He waves his hands around the room in a gesture.
I don’t know what to say to that. I know people do some unbelievable things in times of grief, but I was still sad that he had just left me behind. Maybe my face conveys that because he instantly grabs my hands and holds them.
“Viv, I swear. You were the one thing that I regretted leaving behind. I’m sorry and I promise if you give me the chance to be back in your life and our baby’s life I’ll work every day to prove to you how sorry I am that I didn’t come back for you sooner. I have thought about you every day and I want this.” He waves his finger back and forth between us. “I want it a lot. So what do you say? Do you think you can give me a chance? Do you think we could make this work between us?”
This was the moment I had been hoping and waiting for when I finally came face to face with Ellis again that he’d confess his regrets to me and that he’d still care for me and hopefully care for the life we had created between us. Now, sitting here in this tiny room of a motorcycle club headquarters, a place I never dreamed I’d ever see myself stepping foot into, I was being rewarded with the dream I had dreamed.
A smile slowly creeps over my face and Ellis dips his chin down to see my face clearly. When our eyes meet, he knows that I am going to open my heart to him again. If I’m being honest with myself, my heart has always been his, ever since that first night of what we thought was going to be a one-night stand. I find my voice and give a simple “Yes.”
The smile that breaks out on his face is something that I would have loved to have had a photograph of because it is painstakingly beautiful. This man has the capability to control every emotion inside of me, and for the first time in my life, I’m okay with giving someone else that much power over me. When he speaks next, his voice is gravelly and serious.
“Now we just gotta go get your stuff and the most important thing, our baby.”
Oh my gosh, the thought of going back to Detroit and telling my father that I’m leaving and moving halfway across the country with his granddaughter frightens me. My father is no easy man, and over the past months of Ellis’ absence, he has grown even harder and has become somewhat of a tyrant. I’m sure the look on my face lets Ellis know how I feel about that.
“Babe, you gotta move here. It’ll be perfect for us and for us to start our little family. I can move out of the clubhouse and get us a house. I’ve got a good job and now that I’m no longer prospecting, I’ll get a piece of the club’s profits, too.”
I don’t understand half of that, but I go with it and nod in agreement. “Ellis, you’ll have to go with me. I can’t tell my father alone. You know him. He’s only gotten worse since you left.”
He shakes his head, no fear, no anxiety. “Babe, it’s no sweat. I’ll go back with you. We can leave tonight if you want, but there’s one thing. You gotta start calling me Detroit around the guys here. No one calls me Ellis. It’s one thing in this room, but out there, I’m part of the MC.”
I smile and stifle a laugh. “I can do that.”
There are a lot of unknowns in our future, but the one thing that I know moving forward is that Detroit and I, we’re going to make it and we’re going to go get our daughter.
To my readers, thank you so much for reading Detroit. When I first started the Mystic Venom MC series, I had no idea that it where it would go. I just knew that I had a story to tell about a group of men who loved motorcycles, their women and living by a code of honor. Now with the series having four books and another yet to come, I’m humbled that it’s been so well received and love how much everyone loves them.
If you loved Detroit, I hope you will consider leaving me a review. They truly help and get indie authors out to a broader audience. Help me spread the word! If you haven’t read all the books in the series. I recommend starting at the beginning: Rider: Mystic Venom MC.
PREVIEW OF
Rider
The weather was complete shit. I knew I should have gotten on the road hours ago but I lost track of the time while hanging with the guys at the club. It’s a typical occurrence so I shouldn’t be surprised but tonight isn’t the night that I should have been so careless. The weatherman actually got it right this time and there’s already an inch or two of snow on the streets. Thankfully, the road is fairly clear from being salted earlier in the week but remnants from our last snowstorm still lurks about. The piles of snow on the sides of the road haven’t fully melted yet, and now it won’t be long before the road is once again a mess. Not the best situation for me to be riding on my all-black matte Harley Breakout at four a.m. but again, I didn’t mean for it to happen.
I’ve got my black leather jacket zipped all the way up to my neck and a jean jacket on underneath for extra warmth. I’m still freezing my ass off but wearing my jacket with my club’s patch sewn on the back means I need to man up and at least pretend the cold isn’t freezing my balls off. I can’t disgrace my club’s reputation. We ride all year, rain or shine, sleet or snow and since this is the pacific northwest it’s mainly fucking rain and way less shine. In the winter it’s a lot of snow and I’m usually one to stay in when it does. My black helmet offers my face some protection but I have to keep brushing the snowflakes off the visor. You think I’d be used to this weather since I’ve grown up in it but as I’ve got older, I find myself grumbling more and more. Granted, I’m not ancient yet, I’m only thirty-five but damn these winters don’t get any easier.
I’ve only got a few miles to go before I reach my house, but when I look down and see my gauge nearly empty, I know I better stop and get gas. If we all get snowed in it ain’t gonna matter if I got gas or not but I’ll still need to open my shop. That will require me to get gas so I might as well have it and be ready. Stopping will also give me a chance to dry my visor.
I pull into the one gas station on this road that I know is open and seek coverage under the overhang. I take my helmet off and use the free, blue paper towels to wipe it down and dry it. That’ll help me get a few blocks before it’s covered again. I rest my helmet on my bike and start to pump my gas. My hands are freezing and my gloves… yeah I know exactly where they’re at, sitting by my door at the club where I left them. I rub my hands together trying to keep them warm and blow hot air on them. It’s so cold tonight that my breath is coming out thick in the air as I puff hot air onto my hands. I finish filling the tank and replace the nozzle back onto the pump.
I start to get on my bike and as I’m adjusting my helmet that’s when I notice her. She’s standing at the entrance of the gas station adjusting her gloves and her grip on a gallon of whole milk. She looks young, if I had to guess, I’d guess early twenties but I’m about twenty-five feet from her so I could be wrong. Her blonde hair is covered in a black fuzzy hat with one of those fuzzy balls taking up the majority of space on the top of her head. Her coat is red with black dots in all sizes covering it and she’s wearing black leggings. She looks like a giant ladybug and it makes me smile. I sit on my bike and watch—and once she adjusts her coat at the neck she starts walking out into the snow and away from the gas station.Where’s her car?She shouldn’t be walking in this weather and this late at night alone.
My curiosity wins out and I wonder what a young woman like her is doing out in this weather so late at night or early in the morning however you look at it? I start up my bike and slowly start to pull away from the pump. I continue to watch her and I find myself following in her direction even though she’s walking in the opposite direction of my house. There’s something about her that makes me want to know more, plus it’s late and someone needs to make sure she gets where she’s going safely. If this was my sister or friend, I wouldn’t want them walking out late like this and in this weather. I have a nagging feeling down in my gut that if I ride off into the night and forget about her that something terrible will happen. When my gut tells me to do something, I follow it. That’s how I’ve survived in this life. Trusting my instincts.
I round the corner of the gas station and my motorcycle quickly eats up the distance she put between us. I go slow trying to make sure I keep control of my bike and not to come up on her and scare her. The street lamps are few and far between. She’s in a patch of dark road at the moment, trudging in the snow and trying her best not to slip on what I can only imagine to be a very icy sidewalk. The road isn’t much better, so I slow to a crawl and pull closer to the edge of the street, but I’m still several feet away from her.
That’s when she takes notice of me and gives me a pinched expression. I get it, if I was a chick and saw me approaching I’d be leery. Sitting on my bike, I’m still a big guy. I’m 6’2’’ and my shoulders and chest are broad from years of working out and manual labor. It’s also four in the morning, I’m wearing all black in my leather jacket, black jeans, and black boots sitting on a matte black motorcycle. Right now I’ve also got my helmet on. If I was a woman they’d say I have resting bitch face but I’m a dude so most people say I look menacing. If it was summer she’d be able to see my bare arms and probably be intimidated by the fact that my arms are covered in tattoos along with my neck and most of my chest. As it is she might be able to get a glimpse of them peeking out of my sleeves at the cuffs.
My bike is loud even when just idling and since I won’t be able to hear her well over it, I do the next best thing. I pull up a few feet in front of her and cut the engine. I slowly get off my bike and hang my helmet on the handle, and leave it on the side of the road near the curb. When I look up she’s still walking but slower than before and eying me wearily. I hold up my hands, palms facing her in a nonthreatening way and give her a small smile. She tightens her coat and her grip on the milk jug she’s holding. “Hi, I promise I’m not some weirdo, I swear. I saw you leave the gas station where I was getting gas. I saw you were walking in this weather and I know it’s not that much better but would you like me to give you a ride? It’s faster than walking and safer too.”
