Every saint has a past and
every sinner has a future.
-Oscar Wilde
Getting Saint distracted is fairly easy now that his cock’s satisfied along with his need to offer blood up in sacrifice. He was pent up in more ways than one, so hopefully, he’ll remain relaxed for a while. Our relationship may be out of the ordinary, but I couldn’t imagine not having one with him. As for what we do sexually, well, we keep that between us and whoever we’re sharing for the night. There’ve been many times I’ve wanted to show him affection but have held myself back. Maybe one day that’ll change.
As for now, I have other things on my mind; namely, a young woman named Jude. I’m able to eventually sneak away while he’s busy having a drink with Spider and Exterminator. The two are still NOMADS, so we don’t see them much. They stopped through town when they heard we’d be having a hog roast.
Little do they know that hog roast will be compliments of the pigs we feed our enemies to. Can’t say I’m sorry to miss it. I’m sure the bodies’ remains are long gone, but it still gives me the heebie-jeebies just thinking about it. Saint could care less though, as he drinks blood from them with each sacrifice. I’m, however, not on that same level.
It sucks the two brothers didn’t hang up their NOMAD patches to stay at the club with the rest of us, but I get it. The life of a wanderer calls to a biker’s soul. There’s nothing like being out on the road doing whatever you want, whenever you feel like it. I miss it somedays, and I’m sure Saint feels the same.
Viking’s aware of me going out of town again and wasn’t thrilled with the idea, but I wanted to at least let the Prez know in case he needed me. Ever since Nightmare’s son was kidnapped by the leader of the Iron Fists, the club hasn’t been quite the same. We’ve been on edge, just waiting for something else to pop off even though we’ve all been promised that it won’t.
I don’t trust the Iron Fists for shit, so their word means nothing to me or to any of us. We’re just sitting back, waiting for the right time to finish snuffing them out. Unfortunately, we have to find out where they are first before we can make any headway with retribution.
Saint wouldn’t understand if I told him the truth that I’m going to go check in on Jude. He’d think I was nuts for buying her food and giving a shit. He’d also be beyond pissed to hear I’m married. Not only did I not tell him about it, but he’s my best friend. You don’t keep shit like that from each other, and I’ve broken that unspoken rule.
As soon as I can get it annulled, I’m going to put it in my past and do what I can to forget it ever happened. I still haven’t figured out what to do about Jude afterward though. I have a feeling she won’t survive if I leave her to depend on herself. I can’t have her survival weighing on my conscience for the rest of my life, so I have to come up with some sort of plan.
I wonder if Princess has any ideas. She’s young herself, but she may know what I should do. After this trip, I’m going to discuss it with the Prez and see if he thinks it’s a good idea I involve his ol’ lady in my mess. I have to do something though; I can’t continue omitting shit from Saint. He means too much to me, and the worse the outcome will be if he finds out on his own.
The ride passes by quickly, anything under four hours always does it seems. Jude only lives about two hours east in bum fuck Egypt, so I hit town about nine. Stopping off at the Stop N Shop gas station, I pick up a six pack of beer for me, some lemonade, and a few fruit parfaits for Jude.
She loves them but never pays the extra for the parfait, settling on the cheaper yogurts instead. You’d never think of granola and fruit as splurging, but in her case, it is. I’ve made it a habit of paying attention to what she eats. Otherwise, she won’t tell me. The girl’s got pride, and I can respect that.
Money’s not much of an issue when it comes to me. I usually blow it on food or alcohol out and about with Saint; otherwise, I sleep at the clubhouse, so rent’s free. I pay my dues each month but the runs we do make us plenty of money to live off of. Viking has done a good job at helping us fill our pockets.
We’ve recently gotten into overlooking the local hotel that deals in pussy. They needed security, and we could use the extra cash from it. We don’t pimp them out or anything, that’s not our style. We just sit back and keep an eye on them to make sure the john’s don’t mess with them in any way.
Drugs have never been much of my thing either with the trippy past I had, and then Saint doing his sacrifices. I have a feeling they’d give me a bad high if I were to use. Anyhow, I save a lot not throwing away my cash on any of it. Not that I judge my brothers who do enjoy the high, it’s just not for me.
As I get closer to the shack of a trailer that she calls home, my abs constrict. I’ve been thinking about her a little too much since the last time I saw her. She practically threw herself at me, and it took everything I had inside not to rip her shirt and shorts off and fuck her against the wall. I wanted to, Jesus fucking Christ. I wanted to plow into her.
Self-control.
I chant inside my head multiple times and exhale, pulling to a stop. Shutting the engine off, I take in my surroundings and swing my leg over, climbing off my bike. It’s so quiet out here besides the occasional car passing on the main road that I can hear crickets chirping. It’s a touch surreal after listening to the steady roar of my engine for the past two hours.
The warm yellow glow from the porch light shines brightly, reflecting over the chrome on my bike as I glance around. I warned Jude about that before—having the light off at night. She has fuck all out here to protect her. The least she can do is light her place up to help ward off any piece of shit creepers.
If I knew it’d help, I’d tell her to get a dog out here to make some noise as well. However, that’d end up being an argument about her not being able to afford it, and it’s not like there’s a vet anywhere near if she needed one. So, I haven’t said anything, yet. That’s not saying I may bring it up to her one day.
I stopped at the bar on the way out of town the last visit to let them know to hit me up if she has any sort of trouble. I wore my colors, too, so they’d know exactly who they’d be fucking with if they didn’t take me seriously. Her safety is not something I want to be compromised. It’s a miracle the young woman has survived this long without anyone to care for her like they should’ve.
Emptying my leather saddlebags, I head up the three rickety, wooden stairs. The two-by-sixes groan with each heavy step, the unpleasant creak gives me away; not that she didn’t already hear the rumble from my pipes. I’m stunned the split weathered pine will even hold my weight; they’re definitely on their last leg.
I’m not heavy by any means. I’d describe myself as “fit,” I guess. I should probably fix the damn stairs for her. If I don’t do it, then they’ll end up breaking, and she’ll hurt herself.
Being a biker, I have to stay in shape to accommodate my lifestyle. You never know when you may need to bury a body or get into a good ol’ fashioned bar fight. Hell, we’ve even been chased down by lions. That was probably one of the scariest moments of my life, thinking I was gonna be a snack for an oversized, pissed-off cat. In this case, though, I can easily fix shit that’s broken for her.
The door swings open before I have a chance to beat on the rickety metal, her beautiful form waiting just past the threshold. She’s a site for sore eyes, that’s for sure. “Hi,” she greets, wearing a grin and fluttering her lashes. She’s obviously been looking forward to seeing me, which isn’t good, ‘cause I wanted to see her too.
She’s fucking gorgeous and completely untouchable when it comes to me. Back in the day, I’d have fucked her ten ways to Sunday without a second thought, but now, I’m married to her mother. Even if it is a fake ass marriage, it still counts, right? Boy, do I wish the circumstances were different; I’d break her body in with no questions asked.
“Hey.” The greeting leaves me in a rasp, my groin already growing heavy with lust at the sight of her.
I swear she does this shit on purpose—a plain white fitted T-shirt with no bra underneath and a pair of tiny women’s boxers. It sounds like nothing, but then imagine them being threadbare and a size too small. Fuck, it could be college-aged lingerie right out of a goddamn porno. She has an innocent look to match and throw in the fact she’s a librarian...she’s a man’s wet dream waiting to happen.