HARD KNOX(7)

“What’s the verdict, Uncle Jakey?” I finally asked.

“The verdict?” he said. “Hammer is in prison and will stay there for the rest of his goddamn life. The more they dig the more they find. On our own, we can survive. We can hold together the rules that kept this club moving forward. That’s all I can offer.”

Uncle Jakey got to smack the gavel one time in his life and it was right then.

The garage cleared out except for me and Uncle Jakey.

I was at one end of the table, he on the other.

We both stared at each other.

Here was a guy who bought me my first bicycle. Here was a guy who slipped me my first porno mag where I saw two chicks going down on each other and forever changed my life. Here was a guy who was not my uncle by blood or family, but by brotherhood. The loyalty was only as real as the patch on our leather cuts.

“I’m sorry about your old man, kid,” Uncle Jakey said. “He was always crazy. He always took it too far. But, shit, kid, that’s what got him the patch, you know? When we had that roll over and shook up the MC, he led the charge.”

“And now he’s going to rot in prison,” I said.

Uncle Jakey nodded. “Yeah, he is.”

I backed away from the table. “I bet he’ll still keep the club in his heart. I won’t give this up. Ever. I don’t give a shit what happens. This… this is all I have.”

I walked out of the garage, wearing my leather cut.

I’d keep the cut but would stop wearing it shortly after that.

We all still rode motorcycles but the pack thinned out a lot. It ended up as a handful of us that would still meet up, raise some hell, and earn when we had to do so.

That didn’t mean we stayed out of trouble.

One of us ended up in prison for murder. On death-f*cking-row.

But that… that’s a whole other story.

This story, right now, is about me and Ana.

I thought she would be smart and move the f*ck on from this town. From this bullshit.

But I was wrong.

She was still in town.

And things between me and her were about to get as wild as ever.





chapter five


(knox)



NOW



Sow Child was nothing short of a bullshit project to help me waste time away. Who knew that being cut free of freedom would give me a sense of mindfulness. What the f*ck did that mean? It meant I had notebooks full of ideas, stories, and words that were somehow strung into songs. If that wasn’t crazy enough, people gave a damn when I played shows and I actually managed to earn a straight living. Clearing way too much money each weekend cruising from bar to bar and club to club, I had teetered on the line of outlaw and rockstar.

What did that mean really?

It meant a lot of women. It meant a lot of free drinks. And it meant a lot of cash.

But the freedom part never left me.

I still got tangled up when I felt like it. It was just my nature.

We were ten miles north of town at some fancy club called DC. It was a packed show, well over a thousand people. Shit, we were good enough that we had a crew that would set up our shit for us. That gave me time to hit the road, collect my thoughts, and maybe find a little trouble.

Trouble.

Trouble took to me to a small patch of woods where my two wheeled beast could make it easily. Her arms were wrapped around me tight, first from behind, then from the front, if you catch my drift.

She had been hanging around outside the club and wanted to go for a ride. Her name was Rebecca and she had pitch black hair and a feral scream that sounded so good through the woods as I pounded my cock into her.

I f*cked her against a tree and then put her on my ride. She told me she had never had sex on a motorcycle before. What kind of life was that? Call me what you want, but I was always a very giving man. And I gave Rebecca every inch of my dick. I gave her a story, a fantasy, and I made her come three times.

When I finished, I pulled out of her and tore the condom off my dick and dropped it to the ground. She was still clutching the leather seat of my ride, her hips quivering as she stared at me, out of breath.

“I don’t have time, darlin’,” I said.

She started to move her legs and let out a whimper.

Her clit was like a wet pearl, just there for the taking. I grinned as I lit up a fresh smoke. I guess I had another few minutes to kill. I reached forward with my right hand and gently touched her clit. Her hips bucked and I thought she was going to bounce off the motorcycle. Poor chick hadn’t been f*cked properly in a long time, if ever.

She finished again before I finished my smoke.

She got her ass dressed and we rode back into town.

I took the stage twenty minutes late and the second we hit the first chord of the first song, nobody gave a shit anymore.

I don’t know how it happened, but I got through two full songs before I realized who was working at the club.

I was moving my fingers from an E minor to G, not a hard transition if you know what the f*ck you’re doing, but when I saw Ana, I f*cked up and dropped my hands. The band covered for me; it was something I did from time to time, dropping my hands and saying f*ck it to strumming the guitar.

My eyes trailed Ana as she hurried with a drink tray.

Her tits were beautiful, even from my distance, pushing against a white shirt. Her hair was pulled back tight, leaving that pretty face of hers for the world to see. It filled me with jealousy. I knew she was taken by some street prick named Porter. He and his boys ran backdoor deals through a family owned car dealership. They were all well connected and dangerous. Fuck, they were part of the reason the MC got tossed away. They were all clean cut, no tats, and could control their anger when needed. Outlaws like us, but they had a different appearance.