Brick: Motorcycle Club Romance (Dragon Runners Book 5) Page 4

  “Fuck!” Jesse grabbed a half-full bottle of tequila and stomped to the club’s entrance. “Figure this out, Blackjack. Your son. Your fuckup.” He tipped the bottle back and took a healthy swallow before mounting his bike just outside the clubhouse and driving away.

  Brick frowned. The bottle was still in Jesse’s hand, and he’d be lucky to not get stopped for drinking while riding. Not to mention hurting himself or someone else. Getting shitfaced didn’t bother Brick; he’d been knocked for a loop or two himself. It was taking chances with riding drunk, getting caught, and exposing the club’s business that was a concern. He caught Walrus’s eye again, and the mustached man shook his head in disgust. Brick wondered again for the seven hundredth time, was sticking with the Dragon Runners MC worth the risks its members flaunted?

  The roar of a bike pulling up way too fast caught Brick’s attention. Everyone jumped up, going to red alert and drawing guns if they had them handy.

  “Goddamn, motherfuckin’ shit!” The yell came out of Moth, who burst into the room, oblivious of the firepower aimed at his head. “Isaac… Isaac…. Fuckin’ hell!”

  Cold fingers raced down Brick’s back. “Moth, calm the fuck down and spit it out. What happened to Isaac?”

  “He’s… fuck, man, he’s gone. The fuckin’ cops were waitin’ for us at Parson’s Curve. We made a fuckin’ run for it, but Isaac wiped at the Whip. I think he lost control on the dip down and flipped. I saw his bike fly into pieces when it hit the mountainside, and Isaac… fuck me… Isaac’s head fucking exploded. Helmet an’ all. The cops stopped to check him, an’ I didn’t know what to do, so I kept runnin’. Circled back and came through town on the other side.”

  Brick’s mouth thinned as he pressed his lips together. He’d handle the pain of his brother’s death later when he was alone and could let it go. Too many details in Moth’s story didn’t quite sound right. How did the cops learn about where the Runners were on this day at the exact right place and time? Isaac wouldn’t have run stupid on the Tail. He would have dumped the load like Deuce and waited to deal with the club’s wrath. His head exploded? No way that happened in a bike accident unless….

  A cold chill ran down Brick’s spine. “Someone shot my brother.”

  Betsey let the loose screen door slam behind her as she strode across the muddy yard and threw the two full bags into the metal trash cans near the car cover. The rectory house was located behind the church. It was a free roof for her family but had the bare minimum of amenities and barely enough space for them. Two bedrooms, one bathroom, kitchen, and a living room crowded everyone together, and with no air conditioning in the blazing summer heat, tempers flared often. Well, not everyone’s tempers. Her father’s mainly. When the moonshine flowed freely, he spent hours ranting on the state of the country, morality, sin, and whatever else he could find fault with in the world.

  Often, his favorite target was her. Last night, she had worked until closing at the diner and Brick could not come see her, so she had to trudge the four miles home in the dark. Brick didn’t like it, but sometimes it couldn’t be helped. Her father had been waiting for her when she arrived home, his eyes red and unfocused from the potent brew he bought under the table from a local still owner. He mumbled something incoherent at her as he weaved on his feet and held out his hand. Betsey had sighed and handed over her tips. He pocketed them and stumbled up the steps, still mumbling and spitting. Betsey was left to sleep on the scratchy sofa that served as her bed.

  She wondered what his reaction would be if he ever found out about her secret boyfriend. Could she call Brick that? They had spent as many stolen moments together as they could, talking about the future, the club, and what they wanted in life. Betsey knew Brick was conflicted about the club and his role in it. She talked to him about her home life and how much she wanted out. She believed they were close, but she wasn’t sure if they were a real couple. He had never touched her other than his wonderful kisses. His claim was he had too much respect for her and wanted to put his patch on her first. Betsey loved that about him, but she still craved more than his kisses and evening rides.

  Betsey slammed the lid on the can with a crash and looked around to make sure she was alone. The car cover was old and rusted and had a worn wall of stones on one side. Her hand slipped down to her sock and pulled out the few dollar bills she’d held back from her tips. She pulled up one of the stones to reveal a tin box. The money joined the small pile of paper bills and coins she hoarded away. Enough dimes make dollars, and enough dollars make freedom. This had become her mantra as the box’s contents increased. Freedom meant she could leave the abuse and suppression behind. Betsey didn’t try to count what was in the box. It was nowhere near what she needed to leave, but the more she could squirrel away, the closer she would get to her goal. The coins glinted in the morning sun, and for the thousandth time, she thought about what that money would buy her. New clothes that were hers and not ones from the donation bin, a trip to the hairstylist instead of her mother’s home trims. Shoes—Lord, how she wanted new shoes! Her father lectured long and hard about vanity and pride, but Betsey just didn’t get why wanting to wear makeup and enjoy being pretty was a sin. She’s already learned not to argue with him, as his lessons in women’s deportment were often followed up with a heavy hand.

  Her two younger brothers were exempt from her father’s rages for the most part. One was in high school and the other in middle school. Neither of them helped much around the house, as this was solidly categorized as women’s work. Housework, cooking, laundry, dishes, all of it landed on her and her mother’s backs, and God forbid something be out of place.

  “Betsey, I need you.” Her mother’s weak call reached her ears, and Betsey glanced up to see her standing in the doorway, drying her hands on her apron. Breakfast was ready and needed to be served. Betsey closed the box and tucked it back in its hiding place. At this rate, she’d be an old woman before she was free, but at least she would be free.

  She never saw him. He sat watching on his bike, hidden from her view by the thick bushes that separated the church from the rectory house. His eyes followed her movements as she stood from her money stash and brushed a few flecks of dirt from her skirt. He kept still as he saw Betsey approach her beckoning mother, holding his breath against making the slightest noise. He waited a few minutes after the two women disappeared in the house before wheeling his silent bike away from the parking lot. At the main road, he started the engine and drove away without looking back.

  Five

  A few days later…

  Brick drove into the diner’s almost deserted lot. Most people were at church for Wednesday night services. The waning sunlight glinted off the windows as he strode up to the doors. His face was blank, but his thoughts ran on an endless hamster wheel. Isaac, or what was left of him, had been buried today with only a few Dragon Runners present.

  After the shooting, the club was in an uproar. Jesse wanted to cancel all the runs and do an honor ride for Isaac. Blackjack wanted to stay low and keep the runs. They argued bitterly, shouting and filling the air with curses until Walrus jumped in. He tore off his cut and flung it to the floor between the two shouting men. “I didn’t sign up for this shit. This ain’t who we are. This is supposed to be a brotherhood of men, having each other’s backs, ridin’ free. Too many Runners are getting their guts smeared across the highway, and you two assholes cain’t do nothing but fight over fuck knows what. Someone’s been tipping off the cops and now killin’ our people. You two need to get your shit together and fix this. I’m outta here.”

  The rotund man had walked out, but he made an appearance at the graveside service. So far, he hadn’t been back to the clubhouse. Brick agreed with Walrus. Too much infighting was happening, which was making him second-guess everything about the club and why he was a part of it.

  “Hey, Brick. You wanna sit at the counter or a booth?” Just hearing her voice calmed his spinning head.

  “Booth.”

  “Anyone else with you?”

  “No, just me.”

  She led him to an isolated booth and plunked a menu down as he slid into the seat. “I'm guessing your regular cheeseburger and fries order?”

  As much as he loved Moses’s burgers, the thought of food turned his stomach. “I ain’t real sure what I want right now.”

  “How ’bout a big chocolate shake?”

  “Yeah, that’d be good.”

  She smiled at him and caught her lower lip between her teeth before she moved behind the counter. He watched her generous behind sway as she walked away. Beautiful. The more he talked with her, the more he liked her and wanted to be with her. She still lived with her parents, and Brick knew she was still giving all her money to her drunk father. It was rare he saw her in anything other than her pink waitress uniform, but the few times he had, her clothes looked like castoffs from the rag bin. The memory of her handing over her money and getting slapped for her trouble flashed through his brain. She shouldn’t have to do that. She shouldn’t have to struggle for crumbs. She should have the world handed to her just for being alive.

  The jukebox was droning an old tune in the corner. Brick found the sound grating to his ears. The diner became stuffy, hot, enclosed. The air tightened in his chest and he couldn’t breathe. He got up and went out to the parking lot, inhaling large gulps of the clean night air. Fuck, he was tired. His hands trembled as he pulled out his cigarettes and tried to light one.

  “I have your shake ready. You want to stay out here? I can bring it to you.”

  Betsey had followed him outside. She smelled of Ivory soap, and the clean scent teased his nostrils.

  “I’m good, baby. ’S been a long day. I just needed some air.”

  She placed her arms aro
und him and laid her head on his chest. “I’m really sorry to hear about your brother.”

  Her soft tone was all it took. With a growl he lifted her chin and crushed her lips to his. She opened immediately and let him in.

  This, he thought. This is what the Dragon Runners ought to be. Taking care of your woman. Taking care of your family. Putting kids in her belly and watching them grow. Protecting. Providing. Making it so your family never wants for nothin’. All the family. All the brothers, their women and kids. Havin’ their backs and buildin’ the trust so they have yours. Jesse talks about ridin’ free, but how free can your ride when you’re spending your life looking over your shoulder or waitin’ for the bullet with your name on it to find you?

  Betsey settled into him, her tongue meeting his and giving him back what he gave her. She seemed to want this as much as he did. Maybe he was raw from the funeral. Maybe it was all the years of dreaming of her. Maybe the stars in the heavens were aligned right. Whatever it was, he fell. Solidly, completely, utterly fell in love with the woman in his arms. There was no question in his mind that she was meant to be his. She was the other half of his existence, pure and simple. He allowed his hand to drift down the front of her uniform over the soft mound of her breast. She jumped at his bold move and then arched into his cupping palm. Even through the thick layers of her bra and uniform, he felt her nipple harden, and he brushed his thumb over the tight nub. Virgin. Brick forced back the raging hard-on that rose against his jeans zipper. Slow down. She ain’t no bunny. She’s the real deal.

  He ended the kiss but kept her close. “This ain’t done, Betsey. I got a lot goin’ on, and there’s more to come. My club’s got a shit-ton of unfinished business, and I have to see it through. I ain’t got no right to say this, but I’m goin’ to anyway. I want you to wait for me. I know I ain't being fair, but I want you to promise me you’ll wait. I’m asking this ’cause with every cell in my body, I love you. I want you to be on the back of my bike for the rest of forever. I know your life is hard, and I ain’t got much to offer you now, but if you stick with me, I’ll build you a kingdom and a castle and make you a queen.”

  Betsey’s lips trembled. He could feel them quivering under his. “I don’t need no castle. I just want a home and a good man who loves me and I can love back. You promise me that, and I can wait forever.”

  Brick leaned in and lightly kissed her again, sealing his vow. “I promise you everything I have in me and then some. I don’t want to, but I gotta go. You keep strong for me, ’cause you’re mine now. You’re mine and I’m yours. We’re gonna make this work.”

  “Okay, Brick. I believe you.”

  Betsey walked home later that night, her heart dancing as her shoes picked up another layer of mud to clean off. Her tips were light, so she didn’t dare take more than a dollar to put in her stash. Her family would have been at the church tonight, so her dad had to stay sober until after services. It was a crapshoot if he was still up or passed out drunk. Betsey hoped for the latter but prepared for the former.

  This time her mother met her at the door.

  “Got your money, sweetheart? Your daddy said to give it to me and he’ll get it in the mornin'.”

  The woman looked paler than normal in the dim lamplight. Too thin, she sounded defeated by life and was no more than a functioning body that only lived because her lungs still worked. A vivid bruise stood out on her cheek, and Betsey cringed at the sight. Her father was getting sloppy with hiding his abuse, and she wondered when someone would notice.

  She didn’t say a word but handed over the few bills and coins she had. Her mother nodded and painfully shuffled her way upstairs. Betsey watched her go, wishing she could talk to her mom about Brick, about what her body was feeling, about the promise he’d made, and that she had an official boyfriend, but the woman had ceased being a parent years ago.

  Betsey stopped her giddy thoughts. It didn’t really sound right to call Brick her boyfriend. He was much more than that. Man-friend? No. Betsey stretched out on the sofa and smiled as the perfect name for Brick came to her.

  He’s mine.

  Six

  A few days later…

  The older man was sitting under the porch when Brick pulled up to Walrus’s small cabin. It was early enough in the evening that the sun was still bathing the area in heat and light. The man lived as minimally as anyone he knew. Walrus had come to Isaac’s funeral but hadn’t come back to the club and hadn’t picked up his cut from the floor where he threw it.

  “Hey, Walrus. Got a minute?”

  “I got more ’n one.” The old biker had his knife out and was carving a piece of wood. The thin shavings fell to the ground, adding to the pile already built up. “I ain’t goin’ on no more of them runs. Respect to your daddy, but Jesse can kiss my ass if he thinks I’m watchin’ my club go down the fuckin’ toilet.”

  “I ain’t here to talk about Jesse or Blackjack or any of them. I’m here ’cause I need some advice and might need backup.”

  Walrus stopped his carving. “I’m listenin’.”

  Brick stood straight and took a big breath. He had thought long and hard about what he was going to say to the man but hesitated. His ideas were radically different from the direction the club was going in and could get him ousted or even killed. If there was one man he could trust, it was Walrus.

  “I’m tired of takin’ chances on the Tail and other runs. I’m tired of seeing my club people dying for no good reason. I’m tired of livin’ like a fuckin’ criminal just waitin’ to get caught. This ain’t freedom. This is bidin’ time until we meet our Maker in a bloody mess left on the road for someone else’s profit. Freedom is ridin’ and knowin’ at the end of the day, I got something to live for. Freedom is havin’ kids someday and being able to keep them safe. Freedom is havin’ a good woman by your side when you go to sleep at night. Freedom is wakin’ up in the mornin’ breathin’ easy and not wonderin’ if today is your last day on this earth. I want that freedom, Walrus, and there’s only one way I see we can ever get it. We gotta get out of the drug business and go legit.”

  The moment the words left his mouth, Brick thought he would feel a weight lift from his heart. He didn’t. A picture of Atlas, the god who carried the world on his back, flashed over his eyes as the heaviness of his decision and what it meant lay across his broad shoulders.

  Walrus eyed the younger man. “You serious?”

  Brick swallowed. It wasn’t too late. He knew Walrus would forget this conversation ever happened if Brick turned around, got on his bike, and left. Once he started down this path, he would have to see it through to whatever end would come.

  “Yeah.”

  Walrus’s mustache twitched once. “What's your plan?”

  “We need club businesses that make good steady money. Already own a garage that turns a nice profit. Moses is getting old. He’s made noises ’bout sellin’ the diner. I’m thinking it would make a right good bar. Jesse’s got a big piece of land set aside close to the Tail. Be a good place to build a campground for all the tourists who come around. Wouldn’t be hard to get built up. If everyone contributes time an' a little money, I bet we’d get it done in a year or two. We can be done with this drug shit and live free. Really live free.”

  Walrus picked up his knife and resumed carving. Brick watched another long peel of wood fall to the floor. “Gonna be tough. The club will split, and it won’t be pretty. Jesse’ll probably listen some, but Blackjack and his boys won’t. Bear’ll probably be on the fence, but he’s got more to lose now that he’s a grandpa. Scottie will go with you, but Mothman will go against. Bugs and his sons will be against. Also be hard to break away from the cartel people. They ain’t gonna be happy with us quittin’ their sweet deal. I ain’t gotta tell you there’s gonna be blood spilt. You ready for that, son?”