HARD KNOX(8)

Fuck me…

When the guitar solo hit, I was able to break away from the mic. I just stood there, staring out to the crowd. The crazy f*ckers on the floor were grabbing at my damn boots, screaming for me. Women, men, whatever, they were all crazy about the music. I could have been bigger and worldwide famous, but this was better. The devil was better off hiding and striking when he wanted. I preferred the darkness to the day, get it?

Ana emptied her tray and then looked at the stage.

Fucking finally.

Our eyes met - just like that first day when she got out of the goddamn moving truck - and time slowed.

We stared at each other, knowing there was nothing we could do at that moment.

So I walked back to the mic and finished the song.

I finished the entire set, my eyes trying to keep up with her as she worked the club.

What the f*ck was she doing there? She worked at a club?

It pissed me off a little but then I got a jolt of hope. Maybe she and Porter were f*cking done finally and I could check up on her. That was it. Just a check up. See how she was doing.

Shit, her mother died from cancer while I was out on a run with the boys. We had gotten an offer from another MC to help them move some stuff. The money was great and it was nice to get out of town. By the time I got back home, I heard the news and couldn’t believe it. I knew her mother was sick but didn’t realize it was that bad.

It bothered the f*ck out of me. I always had a crush on her mother. She aged too fast though. She lived too fast. Christ, she chain smoked ever since that first night. And if that wasn’t enough bullshit for two people like me and Ana, my old man had an affair with Ana’s mother.

No lie.

Not that I could blame my old man though. Hell, it made me a little jealous that he got to tear up Abby’s ass and I didn’t.

When Ma found out Pop was f*cking the neighbor, that was the end of it all for them. By then my grandmother was long dead and the house was falling apart. I was out on my own, patched in and moving up the ranks in the Reaper’s Bastards. Next thing I knew, Ma took off and never wanted to be found again. Pop told me it was for the better. Then the shit just kept unraveling.

The set came to an end and I put my guitar down right on stage and gave a quick wave. I got to the side of the stage when I jammed a smoke between my lips and lit it up. Yeah, a security guard bitched at me about it but I threw him the finger and kept walking. I was on the tightrope again on whether to talk to Ana or not. I had sort of made some kind of shit promise to myself to stay the f*ck away. That if she was happy and good to go, why bother. But she wasn’t f*cking happy. Even at the distance from the stage to the drink tray I could see it. Those were the same dreadful eyes from the day I met her. When she opened up about her father leaving. How she felt unloved. She always felt unloved. Even when I loved her it was like my love wasn’t good enough. That was my flaw in life.

I punched the backdoor to the club and needed to get some f*cking air. I was on edge, seeing red, and I was ready to lose my shit.

The last thing I needed was a f*cking situation.

But that’s just what I got.

My drummer, Chet (what a f*cking name, right?) grabbed my shoulder.

“Knox, we have a big problem, man.”

I took a deep drag and reminded myself to stay a little straight here. Chet didn’t do anything wrong. My old man always tried to give me advice on my anger. I heard his raspy ass voice telling me to chill.

“What’s the problem?” I asked.

“The guy up front, Danny, he says he can’t pay us.”

“What?”

“Yeah.”

“The place is packed,” I said. “People are spending cash hand over fist.”

The rest of band stepped up behind Chet.

Caine, our bassist, was about seven feet tall with long ass black hair. He looked like a Halloween prop. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple so big it looked like he swallowed a damn coconut.

“What?” I asked Caine.

“Guy says he’ll call if we put up a fight,” Caine said.

“A fight? He’ll call who?”

“You know this place,” Chet said. “It’s all tied in…”

“Ah, f*ck me,” I said.

Of course the club was tied in to the rest of the shit in town. That’s why Ana was there. She was probably forced to be there.

I flicked the cigarette to the concrete and shook my head.

I shook my head. “Fuck this. We’re getting our money, guys. Get everything packed up and get ready to go.”

“What are you doing?” Bret, the lead guitarist, asked.

“I’m getting us our f*cking money, man. I’m not taking this shit from anyone.”

“Clubs do this all the time,” Luke added.

“Not to me,” I said. “Not to us.”

I walked back into the club and cut a path to the front.

What was on my mind really?

Fucking Ana.

This was my way to get to her.

Shit, I hadn’t seen her in over a year now. I left my mark last time on her - and Porter.

This time?

Our lives were going to change for forever.





chapter six


(ana)



THEN



I felt a hand slide over my mouth, another one over my belly. I started to kick and try to scream, but I was spun around. I threw elbows, my body instantly in fight mode, ready to attack. I heard an umph sound and then I was let go.