BANE: A Devils' Due MC Romance Novel (21 page)

Minutes of silence followed as he huffed and puffed and I wheezed to catch my breath.

I knew I would regret those quiet minutes, for I could’ve spent them more wisely... to tell him the things I wanted him to know, to reveal to him everything that my heart has been screaming for, to whisper one final goodbye...

Instead, I tried to find comfort in the stillness of our entanglement.  I savored his scent... the feel of his sweaty arms caressing my back... every detail of his handsome face which I wanted to remember... the nearness of him...

I wasn’t ready.

I would never be ready.

But difficult as it was, I knew...

I knew it was time to let go.

It was late in the afternoon when I decided to leave.

No one was in the clubhouse except for Cherry who was busy wiping the beer stains from the tables. Sometimes, I wondered if she was really a mama. I've never seen her with any of the patches except for Bumbux, and their relationship was strictly professional, it seemed, as they made it their joint responsibility to man the bar at night. She always wore a sullen face, like she was angry at the world for some reason. That gave me some relief. Maybe she wasn't only mad at me. Maybe it's just how she was.

Everyone was still out. Bane and his brothers had some business to attend to, though he never told me what it was about. All he said was that he'd be back early evening, and that the prospects will be keeping watch over me. Bumbux and Dimwit weren't in the lobby, though. They were most probably outside, guarding the main entrance.

Cherry saw me as I made my way through the empty hall.

"I just placed the pitchers in the fridge," she said with her customary scowl. "You consume more than half of the cold water, if you didn't know."

I just nodded at her and feigned a smile. I continued to walk towards the kitchen, just past the bar.

"And where do you think you're going?" she asked irately as she stopped cleaning the tables.

I shrugged. I didn't want to reply because it would just lead to more questions... questions which I didn't have the time nor the will to answer.  She took my silence negatively.

"So you really think you're way above every one of us now, huh?" she remarked in a loud voice to express her disdain. "You think that you can just walk around here and do whatever you want? You think that you can just ignore us... me... because you're fucking one of the full patches? Well I've got news for you, bitch. I don't care! You'll always be a rat's daughter to me!"

I pretended that her words didn't affect me. I continued to walk towards the back area of the clubhouse. But Cherry wasn't done with me yet.

"All the girls hate you!" she yelled. "Before Bane made you his, they thought of you as a traitor's spawn. Now, they think of you as a whore. A whore! You know what? It's a good thing that your coward father's dead! At least that bastard won't have to suffer more shame in witnessing her dear, little girl sell her frail and skinny body for some pull around here!"

Her words would've wounded me deeply. I would've reciprocated her hatred with equal scorn.

But my mind and my heart were set on something else that I didn't have the luxury to dwell on her hurtful condemnations. I stopped walking. I turned my head to face her.

She was visibly taken aback when she saw me smile.

"Cherry... you're doing a great job with this place," I told her. "I know it's a thankless job, but you're the only one here, besides Bumbux, who care enough to keep things clean and orderly. The patches don't realize it yet, but when they do, I'm sure they'll show how much you really mean to this club... and to them. Just... keep it up, alright? This clubhouse will be really grubby without you."

I meant what I said, and my honesty jolted her. Cherry was, without doubt, the only one who made an effort to keep the clubhouse looking livable.

I continued to the kitchen.

"W-Where are you going?" she asked again. Gone was the rage in her voice.

"Just gonna light up a stick and catch some fresh air," I answered before closing the door of the pantry.  It was a lie, of course.  The mere smell of cigarette smoke was enough to give me an asthma attack.

As soon as I was away from her, I dashed towards the backdoor. It was the only exit that I knew the prospects weren't guarding. There was a wall outside, which was small enough to climb over. It led to an alleyway along North street.

The road was relatively quiet. Only two kids in skateboards were there. I looked behind me. I never realized that the clubhouse was that tall. I guessed fire stations had to be that towering to house the trucks inside.

My lips twirled into a grin... a semblance of joy pounded inside me. 

The clubhouse.

Weeks ago, I never expected that I'd ever miss that place.

But now, I found myself feeling sad that I had to leave it. But with that sadness came a realization that made me appreciate what has happened, everything considered. I discovered happiness within the walls of what was supposed to be a den of decadence and sin.

I discovered love.

But it was time to say goodbye.

Getting to Donahue was a little more difficult than I expected. No public utility vehicles passed by Highway 34, except the bus to Portland that was scheduled to leave in the morning. That would've been too late. I had to hitch a ride from one of the few cars that traversed the route. An elderly man was kind enough to accommodate me, though he was befuddled as to why I asked to be dropped off in the middle of the expressway. I had to assure him that it wasn't because I thought of him as a pervert or anything.

I had to walk through an expansive thicket of trees until I reached the scrapyard in the middle of an open field. A few more minutes of hiking and I saw huge cabin. On the grounds in front of it were around ten or fifteen men, big and burly and garbed in black coats, just like the people who tried to kidnap me a week ago.

Someone else was there, though.

An old man, sickly and weak and wheelchair-bound, with balding hair and a pensive look on his face. He, together with his troops, eyed me intently as I emerged from the tall grasses and continued to walk towards them.

"Ah, alone as promised," the old man said with what appeared to be a smile. "The girl's more honest than the bikers she keeps as company," he added.

It was clear that he was the leader. The Don, as Bane and Loco called him.

"I... I kept my word," I told him. "Can I expect you to do the same?"

"Of course, child," he replied, still with a beam. "I am an honorable man. My organization is founded on integrity. What better legacy can a man leave behind but that, correct?"

He raised his hand as if he was motioning an order. One of his men nodded and ran to a van behind them. He opened the back and pulled someone out. It was dark, but I could still see how beat up the guy was. There were streaks of blood all over his body and he was too weak to even move. The Italian had to drag him towards us.

It was Trevor!

I took a step towards him but two of the Don's lackeys blocked my way.

Trevor noticed the commotion. He lifted up his head to look at my direction, an act which took a lot of what little strength he had left.

"L-Lala?" he muttered. He couldn't believe that I was there. He looked behind me, wondering who I was with, thinking if his club has sacrificed me for his retrieval. His eyes widened when he realized that I was alone. "Why?" he asked weakly.

"Why did the girl go here by herself?" the Don finished his question for him. "It seems that the child is more honorable than her father... and I respect that. It speaks highly of her. Let's face it, Mr. Vice President... your club is in a quandary. They won't give her up because of your code's ridiculous definition of the word
family
. But they're also worried about your wellbeing. So it becomes a matter of answering a very straightforward question... who is more important? You or the girl? It's a moral issue, really, which is quite ironic for an entity that is devoid of morality. It is a dilemma... a conundrum... a choice that will eat up your beloved club from the inside. This would have be your club's ruin... but that won't happen, not anymore. The girl made the choice for your group... and she may have just saved your club from self-destructing."

"You d-don't need her!" Trevor screamed with all his might. "You have me..."

"On the contrary, Mr. Vice President, I don't need you," the Don said. "I need her."

"Why?" Trevor questioned.

"Why? We have discussed this before, Mr. Vice President. It's all about reputation. The child's father has wronged me. He has to pay for his transgression... but you killed him. So now, the girl has to die in his stead. I have to send a message... to the Russians, to the Mexicans, to the African-Americans and their Nigerian cousins, to the Columbians, to the Sicilian mob, to Americans like yourself, and even to the French-Canadians you have most recently befriended... a strong message that all of them shouldn't mess with us... because we don't take kindly to being... what's your word for it? Ah yes... we don't take kindly to being
screwed."

"You have me!" I decided to remind him. Trevor's condition was getting worse and he needed immediate help. His ear... or the area where his ear used to be... hasn't stopped bleeding. "Please... let him go."

"Yes indeed, child, I have you now," the Don turned his attention to me. "And just as I've said earlier, you have my word... Mr. Vice President will be returned to his club."

Once again, he raised his hand, and the two men who blocked my way approached me and grabbed my arms. Someone near the van assisted Trevor and helped him up.

The Don rolled his chair towards me.

"Ah... so young... so pretty... what a waste..." he said softly. "Believe it or not, I feel a lot of remorse for what I have to do... and I know it will only get worse once it's done. I have a child, too, a son... a little older than you are." He paused for a bit and looked at the ground. His smile was gone. He seemed saddened by a thought that ran through his head.