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This is my only chance. I won’t get another one.
I look up at him, putting as much resolve into my expression as I can. He sees it and leans forward, placing a gentle kiss on my forehead. I take his hand and let him lead me toward the door.
“Wait,” I stop him.
I pull away then go to the dresser. I squat down and pull the drawer out, fishing into the empty space until I feel the leather cover of my diary. The one thing I’ve had that’s kept me sane all this time. I grab it then replace the drawer and look at Hawk.
“I can’t leave this,” I tell him. “It’s too personal.”
“Fair enough. Let’s go.”
I take his hand and let him lead me through the clubhouse. When we step outside, there’s a man I’ve never seen before taking a bike off a trailer hooked to a black van. Another man sits behind the wheel and gives Hawk a wave. The first man is maybe in his early twenties, but he’s got a hell of a presence around him that makes him seem larger than life. He has dirty blond hair and a neatly trimmed mustache and beard the same color. He’s tall and lean with dark eyes, a sharp, angular face, and tattoos covering most of the skin I can see. He’s handsome in that bad boy way.
He closes the gate on the trailer then slaps the back of the van twice. “Good to go,” he calls to the driver. “Thanks, brother.”
“I owe you,” Hawk calls while giving him a thumbs up.
“Yeah, I’ll be collectin’ too. Don’t think I won’t,” the driver shouts back.
As the van pulls out of the driveway, the other man walks up to us and flips Hawk a set of keys. Hawk steps forward and pulls the man into a back-slapping embrace.
“Thanks for doing this, Prez,” Hawk says softly.
“You’re my brother. Who would I be if I didn’t help you in a time of need?”
Hawk turns to me. “Molly, this is Reaper. New Prez of the Ruthless Kings. Reaper, Molly.”
Reaper smiles wide at me as he shakes my hand. “You are a beautiful woman, Molly,” he starts. “But the fact that you’re associating with this guy makes me question your judgment. And your taste.”
I laugh. “I’ve been in captivity for years. My judgment and taste have suffered terribly. Obviously,” I say, giving Hawk a wink.
“Hate to break up the yuk-fest, guys, but we’ve gotta move. We’re up against it. Let’s get this done.”
“What are we doing?” I ask.
Reaper sets his intense eyes on me with a wolfish grin. “Trashing this place.”
A wide smile crosses my face and I bounce on my feet, excited to get started.
“Break, smash, and destroy anything and everything you can get your hands on,” Hawk tells me. “Prez, spray paint up some of the Deviant logos on the walls, yeah?”
“On it.”
We head back into the clubhouse, and I grab the metal pipe leaning on the wall next to the door. A while back, somebody put a rubber handle on it. To make it easier to swing, they said. And as I smash the TV, I have to agree. The sound of destruction is loud and sounds like we’re doing a total demo on the house. Reaper is using black spray paint to put the Desert Deviants logo on the walls and Hawk is a whirlwind of destruction.
I storm my way into the kitchen and take a perverse pleasure in smashing up the shelving rack and throwing the rest of the dishes on the floor, where they shatter into a million pieces like one final fuck-you to Hammerhead. Hawk comes in and rips the microwave out of the outlet, then tosses it hard against the wall, making it crash with a heavy boom and crumple the drywall. He pulls out a pocketknife and hands it to me, and I make quick work of the couch and all the chairs, yanking stuffing and upholstery out of them.
Reaper kicks open the cooler and starts passing out bottles of beer and liquor—not to drink, but to smash against the walls and the floor. Shards of glass fly through the air and the stuff spills out, staining the carpet with sticky, smelly liquid.
The clubhouse is destroyed in no time flat.
Hawk and Reaper run outside while I stay in and smash a few more things. It’s like everything I break lets out a little more of the anger that’s built up in me over the years. I swing the metal bar, putting holes in the walls, shattering windows and glasses, and pulverizing anything I can find.
I’m panting hard. The work is exhausting, but it’s fun as hell. Destroying this place that has been my prison for so long is kind of cathartic in a way. It’s liberating and very symbolic for me.
The door opens again, and I see Reaper and Hawk carrying a body in. When I see it, I gasp. And when I see that it’s headless, I feel like I’m going to throw up.
“Who is that?” I ask, my voice wavering.
