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Finally, she managed to speak. “How?”
A sad smile lifted the corners of Rachel’s mouth. “He saved me.”
Abby started. He saved her? When had her mother ever, in her entire life, needed saving?
Rachel must have seen the question on her face. “My parents were dead, and I was living with my aunt and uncle. I’d gone from this amazing, beautiful bohemian life full of love and adventure, to an endless existence of harsh rules and reprimands where my every action was scrutinised, and every mistake magnified as a sin against God.”
Her mother rarely spoke of her time with her aunt and uncle, simply saying they were not a good fit as guardians.
“Then one day, I walked into this… man. I mean literally, walked into him. I spilled my milkshake all over myself. It was hot. He offered to give me a ride home.” The smile on her face was genuine, her eyes misted with nostalgia.
“I can’t tell you how shocked I was to find myself on the back of a motorcycle, wearing a stranger's biker cut. I was terrified of what Aunt Trudy and Uncle Bob would say if they saw me; what they’d do.”
Abby crept closer. She grasped the back of the visitor’s chair beside the bed and lowered herself into it.
“I thought they’d both be out, but Aunt Trudy was home.” Rachel shook her head. “And she was not impressed. I was standing on the front lawn, burning with humiliation, when Zep offered me a way out.”
Abby had to remind herself to breathe; the air scratching her lungs as though it was trapped and wanted to escape.
“He asked me to come with him. So, I did. I got back on his bike and rode away. I never saw Aunt Trudy or Uncle Bob again.”
“Just like that?” Abby’s voice was hoarse.
Rachel nodded. “Staying there would have destroyed me. Being with Zep… it was freedom.”
“Where did you go?”
“To The Devils clubhouse.”
Abby’s head jerked back.
Rachel chuckled. “I lived at the clubhouse for a few weeks. Don’t worry, I barely left Zep’s room and then it was usually to go out with him on the bike.”
“You just stayed in his room? What did you do with your time?”
Rachel tilted her head, her lips twitching as she tried to suppress a smile.
“Mum!” Realisation hit like a ton of bricks. Visions of her mother as a wanton biker whore threatened to leave permanent scarring.
“How did you think you were conceived?”
“No. Just, no!” This was not one of their regular mother-daughter chats. She didn’t want to hear the sordid details of her mother’s love affair. She swallowed back her revulsion. “So, what happened? You got pregnant and he kicked you out?”
Rachel sighed. “No, of course not. Whatever conclusions you’ve drawn about Zep, let me assure you, he only ever wanted to protect me.” Her eyes clouded. “A woman was killed at the clubhouse. One of the wives.”
Abby’s revulsion grew. These outlaw MCs, the one-percenters, acted as though the laws of a civilised society didn’t apply to them. With their drug running and their disregard for human life, they destroyed everything they touched. She wanted no part of it and couldn’t understand how her mother had lived amongst them.
“Zep got me out of the clubhouse before the police arrived.”
“They actually called the police?” Derision underscored her question.
Rachel gave her a hard look. “No one in the club condoned what that pig had done. He died in prison.”
Abby snorted, her hands gripping the arms of the chair to keep her anchored. “Let me guess, he just snapped one day? Before that he’d been a model husband.”
Rachel dropped her gaze. “Well, no.”
“At least you left when you saw the kind of men you’d gotten involved with.”
