For the Love of Dixie (Kings of Chaos 3)

Shit. Last thing I want to do is stay here with my old man, and listen to him run off at the mouth, but this is about more than him. “Done. Bubbles, hit me again.” I settle back into my seat, and prepare to bite my tongue.

~~

As I walk out of the clubhouse, I can’t help but feel like a traitor. I sat and bullshitted with people I know want me and D’Rose to separate. What does that say about me? Dad kept his racist mumble jumbo to a minimum, but he said it nonetheless. Am I selling my soul to the devil? I feel compromised and slimy. I’m supposed to meet up with D’Rose, but I’m wondering how the hell I’m going to look her in the eyes. Maybe she had a reason to stall on moving in with me after all.

I step out into the night, and peer up at the sky. I’m craving the road. That’s where things always make the most sense. So… I’ll take her with me. I tear out of the lot, and push my bike to its limits, weaving through the cars. The wind slaps my face, and the speed seduces me as it always does. Out here I’m free. I remember why I opted to join KOC. Yes, it’s in my blood and they’re my family, but more than that I can live on my terms.

Life is a fleeting thing. You can be here one minute and gone the next. Therefore, the only logical thing to do is squeeze every minute for all it’s worth. I pull up into her driveway and lean back on my bike.

As soon as the door opens she greets me with a wide smile. The flash of white highlights her velvet brown skin.

The look in her eyes chases away the anger and sadness I’d felt moments ago.

The floodlights surround her, forming a halo onto her dark curls. She’s dressed casually in a pair of ripped jeans, a black tank that stops a few inches above her belly, and an olive green vest. The vest tucked under her arm and the purse attached to her belt loops complete the book.

This is my woman, dressed to fit into my world and totally at ease.

“What?” she asks.

“Just glad to have you here.”

“Bull, it’s not like you to be so pensive.” She frowns. “Something happen today?”

“A lot. We can talk about it later. Right now, I just want you on the back of my bike with those long legs wrapped around me.”

She walks toward me. My eyes are glued to her swaying hips, lush body, and big breasts.

“I think I can handle that.” She drags her nails over the nape of my neck.

I pull her to me, kissing her hard. Her body relaxes into mine, and I savor the small victory. Little by little, I’m winning her back over and regaining her trust. We part, breathing heavily.

She wraps her arms around my neck and burrows her nose in my neck, inhaling deeply. “You smell good.”

I smirk and kiss her temple. “You smell good, too, babe.” I inhale her soft, feminine scent. “Best thing I been around all damn day.”

“That bad?”

“Hmm,” I say, noncommittally. If I get into it now, I’ll just get pissed all over again. “You up for a trip to Lucy’s Lookout?” The roadhouse is a favorite among KOC. It’s a biker friendly bar and grill with a killer view, good service, and decent prices.

“Yes, I haven’t been there in ages.” She climbs on the back of my bike.

I pull the bike away, enjoying her warm weight behind me. We navigate the streets, hit the highway, and I place my hand over hers. I never could stand any other woman riding bitch. Now, her silent support is something I depend on. Things are changing among the club, which always leads to a bumpy ride.

Chapter Eight

Dixie Rose

The view of the city below does nothing for me tonight. Echo is obviously otherwise occupied and agitated. I hate secrets; they come back and fuck up your world. We eat, pushing useless small talk back and forth, and now we’re nursing our drinks and allowing the silence to stretch between us.

“You want to talk about it now?” I ask. I’m not used to this sullen version of Echo. Even when we were dancing around one another, he was a direct and open.

“I’m not sure what to think right now, D’Rose. Dad brought some new guys in that give me the fucking willies. Scott and Brett, brothers with very blond hair and blue eyes. I have no proof yet, but they reek of the Aryan nation. Charm kept telling me I needed to decide whose side I was on. He said things were going to be changing. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

The words make me squirm. Any Mouth approved change is something I won’t be on board with. “What do you think he means?” I ask, gently nudging him to expand on the subject. Being an old lady you’re only allowed to know so much. But the burdens they carry can be heavy, and you want to help them as much as they’ll let you. They’re a proud breed.

“I’m not sure, and that worries me. Things are going to be changing around the club. Stone came right out and said it to me. If people aren’t on board with that, he’s going to show them the door. He told me to do what I could for Charm and see how into the racism shit he really is.”

The R word makes me flinch. One can’t understand what it’s like to be on the receiving end, until they’ve been in my shoes. People always say sticks and stones break bones and words can never hurt. But I think it’s the opposite. Bones can mend, yet words said enough times, bury themselves deep into your sub consciousness and become your truth. It takes long hours of work, honesty, pain, and rebuilding to escape that false reality. I curl my hand around my beer and bite the inside of my cheek. “Hmm.”