Biker's Bride (Demons MC)

After I saw Rod’s dead body, I stumbled toward the main road. I walked for what felt like hours before finally finding the highway. I began to stumble back the way we had come, walking for hours.

If a car hadn’t come and picked me up, I had no clue how long I would have been out there. Fortunately, the nice older gentleman drove me into Austin’s city limits and dropped me off there.

I wasn’t thinking. I had only one idea: go to the motorcycle club and ask them for help. Once, two or three years ago, Rod had brought me to a club. He seemed to know people there, lots of guys, and he got along with everyone.

I had assumed it was his own clubhouse. As I stood there looking around at everyone, I began to realize that I was wrong.

“I’ve been here before,” I said stupidly. “I thought this was his club.”

The big man snorted. “We ain’t been allied with the Rebels in over a year.”

“His name was Rod,” I said, practically begging. “They know I was there. Please, I don’t know what to do.”

“Get the fuck out, bitch,” the blond woman yelled.

“You heard the lady,” the big man with the scar said.

“Get out,” the man standing in front of me said. “Go take this shit somewhere else.”

I stared in horror as the whole room began to laugh at me. They jeered, yelled, telling me to get out, to take my shit somewhere else.

How could this be happening to me?

Numb and terrified, I turned away. My mind was racing, trying to figure out where I could go, what I could do, when I heard his voice.

“I claim her,” he called out.

The room slowly quieted down. “The fuck you say?” the tall man behind me asked.

I turned around.

He took a few steps toward me, but I recognized him instantly.

“Ford?” I said quietly.

“I claim this girl,” he said. “She’s mine.”

“You can’t be fucking serious,” the guy with the scar said, standing up. The blonde stumbled away, sitting at the bar.

“Dead serious, Clutch.”

“This is fucking trouble, Ford. You bring this bitch into the club and we might have a war on our hands.”

Ford smiled wickedly. “When did you become a fucking coward?”

“He ain’t a coward,” the man closest to me said. “He’s just smart.”

“You a bitch too, Spoil?” Ford asked him.

“Don’t you call me a bitch, Ford.” Spoil roared, moving toward him.

I stared, absolutely dumbfounded, as my old neighbor and a man I didn’t know came at each other viciously. They were in each other’s faces, practically growling like dogs, the third man named Clutch shouting at the both of them.

“The fuck is all this?” another voice yelled from the back of the room.

Ford and Spoil looked over. The man was older than everyone else. His long hair was graying and thin, but there was a menace in his eye that was hard to miss.

“Ford wants to bring some fucking troubled bitch into the club,” Spoil called out. “He wants to bring more war on us.”

“I claimed her,” Ford said.

The gray-haired man sighed and walked over. “Why’d you do that, Ford?”

“I like her look.”

The older man shook his head. “What’s her deal?”

“Witnessed a club hit,” Spoil said. “Something about the Rebels. She thought we were their clubhouse. Probably been here back when we were close.”

The man nodded and looked at me. “What’s your name, girl?”

“Caralee,” I said softly.

He looked back at Ford. “You really claiming this?”

“I am,” Ford said, staring the man down.

The man stared at him for a long moment before shaking his head. “The girl is Ford’s.”

There was a general uproar then, anger and disagreement. The man raised his hands, silencing the room.

“You have a fucking problem, take it up with Ford.”

“Thanks, Larkin,” Ford said. He turned to me. “Come on.”

I wanted to say something, but Ford had already grabbed me by the arm and was dragging me outside.

The last thing I saw before we exited the room was Clutch and Spoil glaring daggers at us and Larkin disappearing back into the back room.

Chapter Four: Ford

“What the fuck did you get yourself involved with?”

She shook her head, still clearly in shock. “How are you here?” she asked me.

“Joined after you left. Listen to me, Caralee. What fucking happened? What did you see?”

The story came out of her again, this time a little more clearly. Her friend Rod was clearly some low-level asshole in the Rebels, probably running some side deal to try to score points with the leadership. Clearly his deal went wrong.

And the dumb fucking asshole had brought Caralee along. I had no clue what kind of insane club member would bring an outsider on a drop like that. He probably was trying to impress her or some shit, or at least that was what she said.

So Rod gets fucking hit. The guys that did it grab the shit, grab his saddle bags, and ride the fuck off.