Teller
A fine sprayof mist coats my face as I stare at the rushing waterfalls. As a kid, I’d been awed by the powerful display of nature. As an adult, I still find it hypnotizing. Although now I have a much better appreciation for how dangerous the plummet to the churning waters below would be.
My phone pings, and I pull it out to check the text.
Rock: We’re riding out for a meet at the Demons’ if you want to join us.
Maybe Rock’s struggling with the news as much as I am. He doesn’t refer to me as knucklehead, fuckwit, or any of the other charming nicknames he’s given me over the years. His text almost sounds apologetic.
Or maybe I’m reading too much into a simple sentence.
Either way, I don’t answer, something that gives me a perverse amount of pleasure.
My streak of rebelliousness is replaced by guilt.
As much as I hate admitting it, Rock was one of the only people I could count on when I was a teenager. Not-my-dad was long gone. My mother was useless and eventually, she also disappeared. My grandmother kicked me out of her house at the first opportunity. The club was all I had. Rock protected me, gave me work, and encouraged me to finish school. It’s embarrassing to admit how much I looked up to him and wanted to be like him in so many ways. Murphy and I both did.
As Rock’s mentor, Grinder also took a special interest in my well-being. He was someone I felt comfortable talking to about my mother’s slimy boyfriends. Wrath and Z supervised me and looked out for me when Grinder and Rock went to prison. Once Rock got out, I did everything possible to help him clean up the club and turn it into a true brotherhood. A family.
I’ve fucked around on this fruitless “finding myself” adventure long enough.
I turn away from the waterfalls and lean against the railing. Absently, I run my hand over my thigh, the scars that are my constant reminder that life is short and painful.
Whatever my new relationship is with Rock, he’s still my MC president. I can’t keep ignoring his texts and not expect an ass kicking when I finally return.
I take my time, stopping at a tourist-trap store to pick up a few things for Charlotte. Hated telling her that I wanted to be alone on this trip. She’s been more than understanding.
The ride to the Demons’ compound takes a while. Haven’t been out here since last fall before our trip to Nationals.
Before my world was turned upside down.
At the gate to the Demons’ clubhouse, two prospects nod and wave me in. I recognize Rock’s bike and a few others from my club. A relieved breath eases out of me. At least they’re still here.
Inside the clubhouse, it’s quiet. A few ol’ ladies are at the bar, talking. My gaze lands on one with long blond hair. Chaser’s wife. Mallory notices me and her face brightens. After speaking a few quick words to the others, she slides off the barstool to greet me with a warm smile.
“Teller! Welcome,” she says. I accept a quick embrace from her. “Rock said you were running a bit behind the others.”
Guess Rock was confident I’d show up.
“Good to see you, Mallory,” I answer, without any excuses for my late appearance.
She turns toward the closed chapel doors. “They’re all at the table.” Her tone indicates she has no plans to interrupt the club to announce my arrival. Fine by me. Her father-in-law, Stump, isn’t one of my favorite bikers, so skipping a meeting he’s leading doesn’t bother me one bit.
Instead, I take a seat at the bar with Mallory. A girl behind the bar bats long eyelashes at me as she pushes a glass of ice water my way. “Will you be sticking around for the party later?” she asks in a low voice.
Next to me, Mallory rolls her eyes. “Easy, Tracy. This one’s spoken for.”
“Shame.” The girl flips her hair over her shoulder and saunters away.
The corner of my mouth quirks. Mallory’s awfully ballsy.
Mallory returns the smirk. “You’re not the cheating type.”
She’s right, but I’m still amused. Not many ol’ ladies have the stones to get involved in a biker’s personal business. “You know me that well, huh?”
She shrugs and sips her drink. “How’s Charlotte?”
“Good.” Mallory’s only met Charlotte a few times, but I’m not surprised she remembers her name.