Biker's Virgin

There was a slight hush that fell upon the group, and I sensed there was something more to this story than I was aware of. I knew that Devon wasn’t a part of the group in the kitchen, and I wondered for a moment where he could be. I felt slightly uncomfortable being here without him. We may not have been tied at the hip or anything, but he was the only one I knew.

“Do you think…?”

“It’s possible,” Zack replied before the sentence was finished. “But I don’t know. I can’t be sure, and until I am… we need to lie low.”

“If it is though… this could be opening up old wounds and starting a brand-new battle. Are you prepared for that?”

“Are you?” Zack demanded.

I heard someone hoot loudly, and someone else wolf-whistled. “Fuck, you know we’re ready. It’s been awhile since we had a good fight around here.”

“Do I need to remind you what happened at the last fight?” Zack demanded.

Again another silence fell, and I wondered about the history of the club and what they stood for. My brother had found a home here, but I had never asked him what had drawn him to the Fallen Angels. I had made my assumptions about them, without ever bothering to actually ask any real questions.

“Mila?”

I whirled around and found Devon standing behind me, having just walked in through the main door. He was in jeans and the motorcycle jacket that every member of his crew seemed to possess.

“Morning,” I said, aware that the rest of the group now knew I was there. “Just came in?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Did you sleep?”

“Not well,” I replied.

The men filtered into the living room one by one, and I could feel their stares on my back. “Have you met the men yet?” Devon asked.

“No,” I said, shaking my head and turning to all of them.

“Smith Jarrod,” one of the taller men said, introducing himself. He was lean and dark-eyed, with a sharp pointed nose and a birthmark on his forehead that looked like a scar.

One by one, the rest of the men started introducing themselves to me. Justin was one of the shorter men, but he was sturdy and strongly built with an arsenal of muscles that bulged from his cutaway jacket. Derek introduced himself to me as Derek, but insisted I call him by his nickname, Bones, like everyone else. He was one of the older men in the group. His hair was greying at the temples, and his handlebar mustache dipped slightly at the edges. He was almost a parody of himself… the aging biker who fit the stereotype.

Dewy, also known as Red, looked like the youngest member of the group. He had long brown hair that fell to his shoulders and one missing tooth that could be seen clearly when he smiled. Lonny was blond-haired and blue-eyed, and he had a tiny dagger tattooed next to his right eye. Despite the tattoo, he looked like the friendliest of the lot.

“There’s more men,” Devon told me. “You’ll probably meet them at some point during your stay here.”

“Just watch out for Wheels,” Lonny told me with a wink. “He hasn’t met a pretty woman he hasn’t liked.”

Zack leaned against the arm of one of the sofas and observed me with his men. He didn’t say much, and he didn’t contribute to the introductions in any way. He was definitely the most formidable of all the men present, in both stature and in personality. There was an edge to him that commanded fear, and there was a presence to him that commanded respect.

Once the introductions were out of the way, Zack looked towards Devon. “What did you find out?” he asked.

Everyone turned to Devon. “There’s no such man as Walter Black,?

?? he replied.

“The police told me that too,” I said, feeling a little nauseous all of a sudden.

“What about his apartment?” Zack asked.

“I checked it out this morning again,” Devon revealed. “The apartment is registered under someone else’s name…. A man who was found missing in another state.”

“So he’s a ghost then,” Zack nodded.

“Seems that way for now,” Devon replied. “There’s no trace of him anywhere.”

“What can you tell us about him?” Lonny asked me. “What does he look like?”