Swing (Tidals & Anchors MC 1)

Pardon held up a hand to quiet Dallas as he continued. “So, we all know what that means. If you’re all still hellbent on having a new president, then let me know so I can leave the room and you can have your havoc vote.”

“Aren’t you jumping the gun on that vote, Pop?” Dallas asked.

“No. That’s the only way to get me out of this chair,” he replied firmly.

“Alright, then I vote no,” Dallas said stubbornly.

“I’m with Dallas,” I agreed quietly.

“No one is going to say yes to that,” Ash, the vice president, chimed in. “If you’re going to be a stubborn old man, then we can vote on how much longer to give you, but that’s as far as it goes.”

Pardon nodded in agreement. “Just give me a year. One more year as the president of this charter and I’ll have all of my affairs in order.”

The entire table said “yes” in unison and I felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off my shoulders. Pardon asking me to take him out wouldn’t have been easy or painless. I liked wet-work; guns were too quick for me, so when the club wanted someone to suffer, that’s where I would step in and take over.

Before Pardon had a chance to pound the gavel on the table, a loud commotion interrupted our meeting. I turned around in my chair and glanced through the blinds in the room and saw Ricki, Dallas’ mother and Pardon’s old lady, run toward the front door.

“What the hell?” Dallas asked, getting to is feet.

“Pardon!” Ricki called out.

We emptied out of the room and walked quickly toward Ricki to see what the problem was, when I noticed she was holding a small young woman in her arms. From what I could see she had long black hair, alabaster colored skin, and had cuts and bruises on her hands which were firmly gripping Ricki’s arms.

“What happened?” Pardon asked, crouching down next to Ricki.

“I don’t know. She hasn’t said anything yet,” she replied, stroking the woman’s hair. That was the thing I liked most about Ricki. She was tough as fucking nails, but she would be the first one to mother someone that needed it.

“Are you okay?” Dallas asked, crouching down on the other side of his mother. He put a hand on the girl’s shoulder causing her to recoil further into Ricki’s arms.

“Ah shit, honey. Did someone hurt you?” Ricki asked, understanding filling her voice.

I’d like to think of myself as kind of a tough guy. I walk the walk and I talk the talk, but when that woman looked up into my eyes, something about the way she held my gaze kind of scared me.

I couldn’t figure out why so I decided to shake the feeling away. I stood there while Ricki helped her off the ground and watched as Dallas and Pardon flanked her on the way to the nearest chair.

I stayed where I was and glanced out the broken down door. She had run clean through the heavy wooden structure somehow and a cool breeze was coming in. With one last glance toward them, I walked outside and looked up at the dark night sky, blanketed in stars and a bright white moon.

One thing Dad instilled in me when I was going through my rebel youth phase, was that almost any and every great man that has fallen in history has been due to a woman. He even gave examples: Samson and Delilah, David and Bathsheba, Starkweather and Fugate. He always told me that if I wasn’t careful a woman would take me down because I was destined to be a great man. Hell, if that were true, then I kind of hoped I’d find the Mallory to my Mickey; or at least my teenager self did.

But now, as a grown man in my mid twenties, I didn’t want to deal with the stress and confinements of a relationship, so I usually just screwed around with the club skanks who didn’t have an old man when I wanted to get off. It was more than enough to hold me over.

Reaching into my jeans pocket, I pull out a pack of half full cigarettes and light one. For some reason, a saying crossed my mind. (Insert here) will be the death of me.

I never did have anything to insert at the beginning of that sentence, because I was usually death. Glancing over my shoulder into the club and looking at that terrified girl that had come crashing in on one of the most important nights of the club sent a shiver through me.

For some reason, I understood that saying now. I understood why that was going through my head. If my gut feeling was right, I think what would be the death of me was sitting in an old office chair, leaning on Ricki’s shoulder.

Not if I can fucking help it.

Four

Three weeks later, I was sitting at home when my phone rang. It was Dallas, but I decided not to answer. It was my day off so to speak, and I wanted to relax today and not deal with any club shit today if that’s why he was calling.

I never got that girl’s name or found out what happened to her, and it had been bothering me lately. Of course, the easy thing to do would be to just ask Ricki, but I wasn’t sure that I cared.

Ignoring Dallas wouldn’t land me on anybody’s good side, but after that last thing I had to take care of, I definitely needed a little time to myself. I had lost it for some reason in the middle of my work and I was worried that it was becoming too much for me.

I did like it; that was a give in. I appreciated that they trusted me enough to do the hard jobs for them, but that last one ...