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Right then, it felt like the whole world squeezed into the gap between us, past and now smashing together hard. My whole purpose for being here, and all my thoughts about a woman’s place in our world, got rocked by just hearing my name from her lips.
Star, the chick from back in the day, seemed like a ghost compared to the woman facing me now. Her fiery red hair, blazing and bold, screamed of her fierce soul, a stark contrast to the quieter girl I remembered.
My gaze swept over her, taking in the wild ink scrawled across her skin. Each tattoo screamed rebellion, a piece of her untamed journey. They wound around her arms, crept up her neck, and slipped under the edges of her leather gear, whispering secrets I was itching to uncover. Damn, I wanted to dive to the depths.
And her body, fuck, it was as if she’d been carved from sin and temptation itself, an amazing concoction of curves and strength that spoke of nights spent on the back of a bike and days fighting to hold her own in a world that wasn’t kind to women like her.
Seeing her now, so changed from the quiet girl I’d once pushed around, was a shock. Back in school, I was top dog, and she was on the sidelines, a shy, easy mark for my crap. But even then, hidden from all the eyes, there were times I let the act drop, when I let myself want her, touch her, in ways no one would’ve guessed.
My old man was a big shot once, respected in the community, till scandal torched it all. Keeping up appearances was the game, and mixing with someone labeled as nothing but white trash. Way beneath my so-called level, especially her, was off-limits.
But when we were out of sight, none of that crap held up. Alone, I could drop the act and just be with her, hidden truths known only in the dark.
That’s ancient history now. I split from this town, ditched the wreckage of that old life. I couldn’t wait to ditch. Coming back, I was nobody special. Rising through the ranks to MC prez, I carved out my own way, crafting a new me from scratch. My history of being a high school dick, those secret moments with her, got buried under countless miles and years of living my way.
Now, with her fate in my grip, I had to wonder how things got so twisted. Star, now known as Brat, was more than just some biker chick. She was the offspring of MC royalty, daughter to the Asphalt Gods’ prez and the late Banshee, the badass who founded the Hell on Heelz. Here I was, ready to kickstart a massive clash, pinning my brother’s death on her.
Fuck, I hadn’t known it back then. But Star could’ve easily set a horde of bikers on me for the hell I’d put her through. Yet, she hadn’t. And here we were, our past colliding with my present predicament.
Amid the chaos in my mind, a clear thought broke through the storm of anger and old grudges. What in hell’s name was I doing? This wasn’t just about getting back for a brother taken too soon. This was personal, tangled in a mess of past conflicts and words we never exchanged. With a heart weighed down and a head full of past scenes, I let go, stepping back as if waking from a bad dream.
I was about to sink back into my own mess when Rage’s voice sliced the air. Her order to clear out carrying the weight of her rank. As we made to exit, the reality of what went down crashed over me.
Past shadows were restless, refusing to stay buried as we left the Roost. The path ahead, tangled with more than just the mystery of Viper’s fate, felt loaded with unasked questions.
The ride to our digs blurred past, the night wind failing to ease the turmoil in my mind. Rolling into the Lair, our fortress of defiance, didn’t bring the usual sense of relief. My brothers pushed on, their faces a mix of confusion and curiosity, all wondering why the Heelz chick got a pass tonight.
Inside the Lair, the usual night’s chaos unfolded, a mix of smoky air, the sting of cheap booze, and the raw pulse of biker life. Boiler and Shadow were deep in the mix, holding down the fort amid the chaos. Boiler, the human furnace with a short fuse, shot me a look full of silent questions.
The clubhouse buzzed with its typical after-dark antics, shady dealings and women looking for a wild ride. Hammer and Lynx were in their element, owning the room. Hammer, a solid block of muscle with eagle-sharp eyes, threw me a look that demanded answers. Lynx, the brain with an edge, watched me with a sharpness that hinted he knew there was more to spill.
Shadow, our tactical thinker, had his eyes locked on me, his gaze piercing enough for me to tell he was onto the unspoken complexities of the night’s events.
I edged to the bar, their probing glances like weights on my back. Snagging a bottle of bourbon, I poured a shot, the whiskey’s warmth barely denting the unrest inside.
Boiler straight-up asked, “Why is she still breathing, Riptide?”
I knocked back the drink, scrambling for a line that’d stick. “I used to hit that,” I grumbled, tossing out a half-truth. The real deal, my twisted history with Star, laced with high school power plays disguised as flirts, wasn’t something I could lay bare.
The room burst into crude cheers and snickers, the guys getting a kick out of the juicy tidbit. “Our prez snagged a Heel,” Shadow quipped, throwing me a conspiratorial glance.
“Prez’s old flame turned biker chick,” Lynx teased, his grin loaded with insinuation.
“Yeah, way before she was a Heel. And I ain’t sold on her being our mark,” I diverted, shifting the chatter from the edge. Yet, Star’s shadow lingered in my mind, her evolution from that girl to the powerhouse she was now, a specter I couldn’t shake off.
Convo veered to Viper, our brother lost too soon, a true Slayers’ soul.
“To Viper,” I raised my glass, “we’ll unearth the truth for him.”
As the night wore on, the air grew lighter, but my heart was heavy. Candy, club whore, sidled up, draped her leg over me. Her motives were clear as day as she cozied up, her scent overpowering.
“Not tonight, Candy,” I brushed her off, nudging her aside. My head was a storm of thoughts, all swirling around Star, and no quick fling could scrub her from my mind.
I trudged up to my room above the bar, throwing myself onto the bed. The night’s craziness looped in my head. Star, with her fiery locks and inked skin, was a far cry from the chick I used to know. But damn, it was her, the same girl who’d been living rent free in my head for years, the one I’d messed with and cared for, all messed up and complicated. The girl who’d been the star of too many of my dreams on long, lonely nights. Never figured she’d cross my path again.
Tossing and turning, sleep was a bitch to catch. Star, or Biker Brat as she rolled now, wasn’t just a ghost from back in the day. She was a puzzle I was itching to piece together, a pull I couldn’t shake off. Even as I chased sleep, Star invaded my dreams, stirring a restless unease. Her guilty or not, I had to cross paths with her again.
Chapter 4
