Scarred Asphalt (16 page)

Chapter Twenty-One

Thorne had been left to stew over everything that Dalton had
told her about the club. She had even dreamt about the club because she fell
asleep thinking about the club.

Fucking. Redundant.

Throughout the night shift, she debated on asking Saber a
butt-ton of questions, but she felt like she was betraying some sacred oath of
secrecy to Dalton if she did. There were so many questions left unanswered, and
well, curiosity killed the cat.

She needed some satisfaction.

Home by seven in the morning, she slept until twelve, got
up, worked out, then cooked a late lunch slash early dinner for them both. She
had no clue where he was, but knew he wouldn’t be too far with his tracking
device.

A meal of
carne asada
tacos, Spanish rice, and a
fiesta mix of vegetables, and it was good to go. How long had it been since she
actually used her kitchen? Since before the accident. After that, she let
herself live off shakes and protein bars. Why bother cooking for just one?
Plus, since Stella left her meals, she hadn’t really bothered.

“Wow!” Dalton’s deep voice rose behind her.

She wasn’t sure what it was about his tone, but something
about his voice sent a thrill down her spine. Looking back over her shoulder,
she smiled at him as he stood in the doorway. “Wow, what?”

“You
do
know what a kitchen is really used for.” His
voice was laced with disdain. “Nice knowing it’s so easy for you to lie to me.”

“Har har smart ass.” Rolling her eyes, she turned her
attention back to chopping up jalapenos for the
pico de gallo
. “I didn’t
lie. I never said I didn’t know
how
to cook.”

“Better to be a smart ass than a dumb ass.” Quick with the
retort, he moved over to the sink and turned on the water to wash his hands.
“No, I guess you didn’t. But you still played me. That I won’t forget. Want
help?”

“Mmm.” She glanced over to the cilantro. “Will you finely
chop the cilantro for me?”

“I can do that.”

She moved over to give him some counter space and share the
wooden chopping board. “This was my mother’s recipe, but I haven’t made it in a
while. I am hoping it came out right.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. My mom says I’m a walking garbage
disposal, I’ll eat anything.”

Thorne chuckled and watched him from out of the corner of
her eye, as not to cut herself while she was checking him out. “Saber is the
same way, so it must run in the family.”

“Yeah, Dally is the same way.” Dalton snorted and grinned.
“Shit, when he was just five, Mom about killed me and Johnny. We gave Dally his
first Habanero. She blew a damn gasket. Actually chased Johnny around the house
with a wooden spoon. Funniest damn thing you ever saw.”

Sad as it was, she could totally see Saber doing that. “What
about Dallas?”

“He was fine, asked for another one. The kid has no taste
buds for anything spicy. You give it to him and he can eat it like candy.
Damnedest thing I ever saw.”

Thorne scooped up the peppers and dropped them in the bowl
that had the chopped onions in it. “What was it like growing up with Saber and
your mom? You guys never talk about your dad. Why?”

Dalton was silent for a moment, seeming to focus directly on
the knife and cilantro. Thorne wondered if she had hit a sore subject. She
certainly didn’t mean to. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

His sandy blond head shook, the endless depths of blue eyes
met her own. “It’s not that. No one has ever really asked or given a shit about
my childhood or my family.”

“I’m not her.”

“I know.” He scooped up the green leaves with the edge of
the knife and placed them in the bowl as well. “Saber is obviously older. We’ve
always been close. I was the younger brother who always wanted to do stuff like
his brother. I played football, was good enough to get a full ride to college.
Went to Cal Poly.” Dalton set the knife down and shrugged. “There’s really not
much to tell. I’m not from an abusive family; I had it pretty good growing up.
We weren’t poor, but we weren’t rich either. My dad was killed in the line of
duty during the first part of Operation Freedom. Mom was well taken care of by
the military. She bought The Chipped Cup with it and has been happy and loves
taking care of Dallas and us boys when we let her.”

“I’m sorry about your dad.”

“Don’t be, please. I’m proud to have called him my father.
He was an amazing dad and soldier and an even more amazing husband to my
mother. The guys out at Vandenberg still talk about him to this day.”

“It’s rare hearing about someone not coming from some
dysfunctional family of some sort. I mean, look at mine.” Thorne retorted
sarcastically.

Dalton turned to face her, and she avoided his eyes as much
as she could. Especially when he crossed his arms over his chest. She knew she
was in trouble then.

“What?” She finally looked up and into the now storming
oceanic hues.

“You were loved by your parents, by your family and by
Maggie. You got the shit end of the stick, but seriously? Don’t shit on your
family because you are upset with yourself subconsciously. Maggie loved you
with every fiber of her being. She did her best to act as your sister and
mother when you needed her.”

Thorne felt as if he slapped her. He may as well have. What
he said was the truth, and she knew it to her very core. She just had to accept
it and admit that she had been projecting her anger onto her dead family
instead of taking hold of her life by the balls and showing it who the real
bitch was.

Not saying anything, she placed all the food to the table,
including the cheese and sour cream, avoiding looking at him at all costs.

“Quit ignoring it, Thorne. You are one of the strongest
women I know. You have been through so many versions of hell and came out on
top. I don’t know what more you could ask for. And if you say an unscarred
face, I swear I’m going to slap the shit out of you.”

Thorne looked up surprised at him, brows shot up. “Excuse
you?”

“Well, not really, but we’ve talked this into the ground.
Enough already. How many times does a guy have to show you that you turn him on
before you realize you’re beautiful? Do I need to whip it out and show you
every time I get hard when I see the way you secretly
try
and not look
at me, but can’t help yourself? Do I need to tell you that I think of you in
the shower to the point I have to take care of myself because I really don’t
want a set of blue balls? Or how about how it turns me on that you stand up to
Gabby and tell her that I belong to you and to back the fuck off?”

Thorne felt the blush heating her cheeks as she sat down at
the table, unable to focus on what was in front of her. No one had ever spoken
to her like this, and oddly enough, it turned her on.

“It’s okay to be excited about the thought of me wanting
you. I’ve wanted you for a long time, but you have been taboo because you were
my brother’s partner. I don’t care anymore. I want to show you that being with
me isn’t what it was like for Maggie. How the club is family and how much they
already love you and accept you in as their own.”

Thorne cleared her throat and looked up at him, since he
hadn’t sat down yet. “Okay.”

Both brows shot up, his head slightly cocked to the side and
forward. “All I get is just an okay?”

“This is sort of new territory for me, Dalton. I mean, I’m a
medic. I save lives. You live the life of an outlaw. There’s a chance one day
that you’ll take a life. You guys deal in illegal things. How’s that look on
me?” Thorne leaned back throwing her hands up. “I’m being selfish and I know
it. I’m just,” she paused and searched for the right word. “Scared. If I get
involved or attached to you and something happens, I’m going to get left again.
I can’t take another death.”

Dalton walked over to her and knelt down so he was looking
up at her, taking both of her hands in his. “Yes, we do some illegal things. I
will try and never involve you, but accidents happen. I can’t promise to always
shield you from it, but I’ll damn sure try my best to. As for me?” He shrugged
and grinned that lopsided dimpled grin that she loved. “I am not going to let
anything happen. I’m Superman, didn’t you know?”

Thorne laughed and gave his hand a squeeze. “Can we just
take it a day at a time and see where it goes? I have a lot to learn about the
club and some of it, I’m just not sure I’m okay with, but that could be because
I don’t understand it.”

Dalton rose back up and moved over to his seat to sit down.
“Ask away. But please do it while we eat, I’m starved, this looks amazing and
it’s about to get cold.”

“Okay.” Thorne gave a nod as she plucked up a tortilla and
started to dish out the meat. “I don’t want you to get mad at my questions, and
if you don’t want to answer them, I’ll understand.”

Dalton nodded, his hand motioned to her like a wheel,
telling her to keep going.

“Well…” Thorne sighed, her shoulders dropped a little. “You
said that women are valuable to men. I don’t see it. I have seen the women who,
well, basically sleep with any man who wants them. I saw how Demon treated my
sister. How is that holding women sacred, or protecting them, by allowing them
to subject themselves to be beaten?”

Dalton followed her motions, creating a couple of tacos,
then dishing out the rice and veggies. “First off, you need to quit
stereotyping all the club brothers like they are Demon. If another man ends up
beating someone you know, are all men abusive? No.” He took a bite of the taco
and rolled his eyes. “Now this, this is fucking amazing.”

Thorne grinned; her fork pushed some rice around her plate
as if she were stalling. Dalton was right about placing all men in Demon’s
shadow. But in her favor, that was all she knew. Maggie never let her in long
enough to see what the world was like.

“Has Saber ever gotten mad at you? When he has, has he ever
laid a hand on you or ever showed any sort of violence toward you?”

“No, he hasn’t.” She glanced up at him, the corner of her
bottom lip rolled between her teeth.

“Then stop. It’s not fair to think that my brothers are just
like Demon. Hell, look at Mace and Amy. They are madly in love. Mace would
never dream of hurting her. And as for the Painted Ladies? They keep the men
calm. They’re there for comfort when the men need it. Most of the married men
don’t mess with the PLs. I’m not going to lie and say that some don’t, because
they do. But if their ol’ lady is around? No way. And if one of the ol’ ladies
thinks that one of the Ladies is getting out of line with her man? She has
every right to step in and handle it. They are very well taken care of and want
for nothing. There are a couple of them who push the boundaries. They are
straight up looking for a patch holder to scoop them up and ride off with them
into the sunset. I’ve seen it happen. So don’t hate.”

Thorne laughed and shook her head. “I just can’t see putting
myself out there like that.”

“Some of these girls come from broken homes, abusive
families; runaways—the SixGuns have protected them.” Dalton got up and went to
the fridge to grab them a drink. He set a bottle of water in front of her then
sat back down. “As for the ol’ ladies? Yes, they are very sacred to the men.
They’re more valuable to us than most let on. They take care of the men; they
heal them not only physically, but mentally as well. They are the emotional
support system that we can’t find in one another, because we can be non-emotional
asswads. They make sure that we are taken care of and handle shit when we
can’t.”

He definitely had ways of explaining things. She had never
thought of the women the way he described it. She always viewed them as whores.
She actually felt bad now.

“Guess I’ve been wrong about a lot of stuff.” She took a sip
of the water and set it back to the table. She still had mixed emotions about
everything, but she knew it wasn’t fair of her not to give it a chance. “I
can’t promise I can keep my mouth shut when I see things that I don’t agree
with. I’m kinda vocal about stuff.”

Dalton’s smile lit up the room as she agreed to give them a
chance. “I have ways of punishing you if you step out of line.”

“I might step out of line on purpose.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Romeo was at the clubhouse by five-thirty and he was amped.
His whole body vibrated in anticipation of what he had planned. Reno even
showed up for the rumble that Romeo had spent the past two days planning out
between trying to get to know his daughter.

Dressed in black all the way to his skull cap, Romeo had to
explain to Rebel—since she hated being called Shiloh—that he’d be back by nine.
She had asked him who he was going to burglarize. It had taken him off guard,
but he laughed it off and shook his head. He told her it was a club meeting,
kind of like an initiation. She accepted it and didn’t ask any more.

Smart kid.

Now as he sat at the bar, the members trickled in. Mace was
first, which was surprising. Black wranglers and T-shirt, he sported a black
ball cap over his reddish blond hair.

“Dude, seriously. This is not the time to be pissing your
sister off.”

Romeo lifted the corner of his mouth in a half grin. “She’ll
get over it. Trust me.”

“So you say.” Mace rapped his knuckles against the bar top.

“No, I know.”

Mace quirked a brow as Hawkeye wandered in but didn’t come
over to the two since they looked like they were deep in conversation. “What am
I missing?”

Romeo’s brows furrowed, going hand in hand with the frown
that marred his scruffy features. He hadn’t shaved in a couple of days. Hadn’t
really thought about it. “A lot.”

“You need to talk?”

“How about a lobotomy instead?”

“Well shit. I left my damn poker at the house. I’m sure I
can find an ice pick to scramble your brains with.”

Romeo pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezed his eyes
shut, and sighed. Several other members had filtered in and taken seats
somewhere, and the Reno crew greeted the brothers who were now curious as to
Romeo’s plans.

He blew out a large puff of air, cleared his throat, and
turned around slightly in his chair to face everyone. Good, they were all
running 66, no one was in colors. The talking slowly silenced as he waited for
them all to get their greetings out of the way.

“I have a slight announcement to make. No one knows any of
this outside this clubhouse and I want it to stay that way until I’m ready to
let others know.” He scanned the room to make sure that each male understood
the depth of the silent threat. “I have gained custody of my daughter that I
never knew I had.”

The room exploded in a battery of questions. All Romeo could
do was hold up his hands and try to quiet them down. He glanced at Mace, whose
jaw was on the floor. “You might want to close that mouth of yours, or else
I’ll put something in it.”

“Bro, how many times I got to tell you? You ain’t my type.”
Mace grinned and shook his head.

“I’m everybody’s type.” Romeo rose from the chair, his hands
slid into his pockets. “Her name is Shiloh Margaret Lopez-James, but she
prefers to be called Rebel. And yes, she was Maggie’s.”

Yeah, the thirty men in the room were so silent, one could
hear a mosquito piss on a flat rock a mile away.

“I was just as shocked as all of you are right now. She’s
living with me, and well, she’s all of yours now. I’m not going to hide the
life from her, Stone never did from Amy or myself. I won’t lie to her either,
but I’ll protect her to the death, and I ask the rest of you do the same.”

Axe stood up and slowly started to clap. One by one, each
brother stood and joined in until the whole room was filled with applause.

Mace shook his head. “Call me before you break the news to
Amy, please. I don’t want to be home after she finds out you told the club
before her.”

“I’ll tell her tomorrow. I’ll bring Rebel over. She’ll be
fine.”

“Keep dreaming, dude.”

Romeo shrugged, and then addressed the group once more.
“Zacky-boy will be here in a moment with a truck that Sinjin, myself, Wolf, and
Saber will be in. The rest of you will be in vans, one with Mace, the other
with Talon. They will fill you in on the plans as we roll out. Be sure to be
packing, but do not use the heat unless it is absolutely necessary. And I’m
talking as in: if you think your life is at risk, or a brothers.”

Zack poked his head in and gave a thumbs up.

“Alright, roll out. Split up between the two vans.”

* * * *

It didn’t take too long to get where they were going. Zack
was driving an honest to goodness old school ice cream truck. Romeo was sitting
in the back with Wolf, Saber ,and Sinjin, everyone bouncing their legs or
moving their hands. Energy was high as they rolled down the street, though
there was not much chatter.

“About to roll in,” Zack called back to the guys in warning
to get ready.

Sinjin nodded and grabbed up his favorite weapon, his Louisville
Slugger. Saber was gripping a crow bar, and Wolf—well, Wolf didn’t need much in
the way of weaponry. His hands were enough.

Zack flipped on the old cassette player over the giant
bullhorn speaker as he pulled into a driveway. He slowed down to a crawl,
letting the truck creep forward inch by inch while musical renditions of
Pop
Goes The Weasel
and
Do Your Ears Hang Low
played through the loud
speaker to attract attention to them.

Romeo peeked out of the two-way window to see who was
around.

The TGMC were having their church meeting, and every bike
that a patch member rode was sitting pretty just outside the clubhouse.
Standing in the doorway, guarding it, was the MIA Jan. He was outfitted in a
TGMC Prospect cut, wearing the green and black that the SixGuns were readily
growing to despise.

“That piece of shit is mine.” Wolf snarled behind Romeo,
causing the hairs on the back of his neck to rise.

“Don’t kill him. Just maim him a little. We don’t want any
homicides on our record. This isn’t the time.”

Wolf just grunted in reply, but Romeo knew he won that
argument. Besides, if Wolf went against what the president said, his ass was
grass and he knew it.

Jan looked up seeing the truck inching closer and waved it
off. Like Zack was going to listen? Pffft. He kept on rolling.

“Stop!” Jan shouted at the truck, though his eyes grew wide
as saucers when he saw who was driving.

Romeo could see him mouth ‘Fuck’ as he turned around to run
toward the door. It was no use. Wolf was out the back and charging for the traitorous
male. Before he could make it to the door, Wolf had him by the scruff of the
neck and tossed him back like a ragdoll. The poor kid didn’t even have time to
shout out a warning to his future brothers before Wolf was on top of him.

The vans screeched in behind them, everyone bailed out of
the vehicles and ran for the bikes. Sinjin grabbed chains and ran for the front
doors, while Talon ran for the back, carrying a set of chains as well. The
windows were already barred shut, so all the two needed to do was make sure
that no one could escape; chains through the metal handles, padlocked tight,
would do that job nicely.

Once the doors were sealed shut and the brothers knew that
the enemy couldn’t escape, they got rowdy with their escapades. Bikes were
kicked over, metal crashed to asphalt. Sickening crunching sounds filled the
air as baseball bats, crowbars, and tire irons, swung around and slammed into
every part of the rival’s motorcycles.

Gas mixed with oil on the ground, primary fluids leaked down
engines as the men did whatever damage they could. It didn’t take long for the
TG to hear the racket and try busting out through the doors, but alas, that
wasn’t happening. Men were yelling, slamming their bodies up against the metal
barriers without avail.

Sucked to be them.

Glass shattered as the men threw chairs at the windows,
hands grabbed at the iron bars that held them prisoner, trying to bend or break
them to get free. No such luck. Maybe they’d think out their security measures
just a tad bit better next time.

Romeo had a backpack full of goodies that he needed for his
own special job, and he was looking forward to it. He stopped at Muerte’s bike,
which was set apart from the others, set down the backpack, and slowly walked
around the chopper. It was a custom fuck job in Romeo’s eyes. It reminded him
of the bicycles that they loved to bling out. Smaller tire in the back and an
oversized tire in the front. The ape hangers were custom done, twenty-two
inches, everything chromed out and emerald green.

Romeo motioned to a few of the guys, who ran over to give
him a hand. The four of them grabbed the bike, picked up the hardtail and
turned it over, setting it on its handlebars and fender. Romeo reached down and
unzipped the backpack and produced a spray can. The metal marble clanked around
inside while he shook it, the sound was music to his ears.

“Yo, Muerte!” Romeo called out when he saw the president
through the caged window. “Fuck with us again.”

Romeo knelt down, uncapped the bright pink fluorescent can and
began to tag the bike with different pictures and SixGun sayings. SFFS was his
favorite, right on the side of the gas tank.
Oh wait!
He needed to color
coordinate! Romeo laughed as he grabbed another can and began coloring in spots
with the matching fluorescent purple paint.

Once he grew tired of painting, outright ignoring the
threats that were being screamed at him, he plucked out a baggie filled with
spoke beads in an array of bright colors, and attached them to the wheels. When
he was done, he spun the tires, to watch them move like an abacus with each
rotation of the wheel.

“I’m making you my bitch for now, Muerte. This is for my
brother’s bikes that you decided to steal. They found three bikes they liked,
and they’ll get a number job in payment for the bullshit you pulled.” Romeo
grinned as he reached into the bag once more.

Romeo knelt down and held up a pair of little girl’s bicycle
handlebar streamers, in pink and white, high enough for the asshole to see. He
shook them to untangle the plastic tassels, then grabbed out his super adhesive
glue to attach them to the grips of the bike. And for the finishing touch? A
cute little bell was wired onto the handlebars.

Romeo stood up and nodded to Hawkeye, Axe, and Wraith,
giving them permission to fire up the bikes they chose for their own, getting
them to leave quickly.

“Load up!” He yelled out to the rest of the club, Romeo and
Wolf the only two remaining members to be seen, other than the severely beaten
Jan. “As for you, you cowardly piece of shit. The SixGuns is the syndicate MC
in this fucking town. You best remember that and stick to your own territory.
Consider this your first and last warning.”

To add insult to injury, Romeo unzipped his pants and pissed
on the bike. He laughed off the threats being screamed out the window at him.
He nodded to Wolf, then made his way back to the truck where Zack was patiently
waiting.

“Light the bitch up.”

Wolf grinned and reached into his pocket to pull out a book
of matches. The yelling and threats grew louder as the men hurled themselves at
the chained doors, trying to get out to stop Wolf from completing the
inevitable.

He struck a single match and placed it into the book, then
tossed it to the ground. Everyone watched it bounce on the ground and hit a
puddle of oil and gas. As Wolf turned around and started walking calmly toward
the truck, the flammable mixture ignited and swept across the asphalt,
engulfing the bikes in a metal bonfire.