Motorcycle Man (Dream Man #4)(104)
He was still struggling with that decision, it was clear on his face. He wasn’t hiding it from me. And it hurt to witness.
So I slid my hands up, wrapped my fingers around his neck and whispered, “Baby.”
Tack was in the zone because he showed no response that I’d even spoken and kept talking.
“Searchin’, that was what I was doin’. Pissed off at the world ‘cause ‘a my shitty life, scared as shit I had my Dad in me, searchin’ for somethin’ that would prove that wrong, lead me to a better life. Somethin’ to do to get that poison out of my system. Somewhere where I belonged. Found Chaos. Back then, they were a good Club, about livin’ life, havin’ a good time doin’ it and raisin’ hell, all of which I wanted, the last I needed. They sold pot. They had the garage as a front. And they were about the brotherhood but also blood and country. Not a lot of places in this world you can ride free and do the shit we liked to do. America is one of them. They appreciated that. That isn’t to say that they abided by all her laws but that was their choice and it was a choice they could take because we live in America.”
He pulled in breath and was talking quieter when he spoke again.
“But the first Chaos party I went to, old ladies were there, kids. Later ones, yeah, they got rowdy and shit went down but that first one was about family. I liked that. I liked the way the brothers were with their women, their kids. I liked the shit they had to say about what the Club was about, what the brotherhood meant. So I found where I belonged and became a recruit.”
“I’m glad you found that, handsome,” I said softly.
“Me too,” he agreed. “But then I got my cut and was let into the way the Club was goin’ and I was in, no goin’ back even if I really didn’t f**kin’ agree with the path they’d turned down. They kept goin’, meant I was followin’ in my father’s footsteps. But these were my brothers. So I kept my mouth shut, did my bit but planned for the future, talked the Club into explorin’ different avenues while they made their way down that path, just in case they got their shit together and veered off. Didn’t work but I kept at it, met Naomi, got her knocked up with Rush, married her ass and she got what she wanted. She was born an old lady. She loved the life. She bullshitted me, a miracle how she could do that while suckin’ my cock, as I told her where I felt the Club should be and she said she was with me all the way. She knew before she got deep into it with me where my mind was at and she threw her hat in my ring. And when Kimmy died, she knew I’d come back full of fire to make that change and she acted like I never f**kin’ told her when practically every night I’d talk about it, in our bed before we went to sleep. She liked drippin’ in the rose gold I could give her ‘cause ‘a what the Club was into. She liked havin’ a decent house because she didn’t grow up in one. She liked quiet, she liked the flow, she did not have what it takes to stand by her man. A follower needs one kind of woman in his bed, a leader another. She’s the woman of a follower. She mighta thought she had what it took or even hoped she did but she didn’t. She only had what it takes to hold him down. And that has not changed. Her old man Pipe used to be a decent guy. He’s just weaker than me. She didn’t delay in draggin’ his ass down, he didn’t fight it, that’s where he is and, unless he gets shot of her ass, that’s where he’ll always be.”
Well that fully explained Naomi and made me think even less of her which was quite a feat.
“What path was the Club on?” I asked quietly and Tack focused on me.
Then he rolled to my side and put his hands to my pits, pulling me up further in the bed before he shifted up beside me, rolled again, to his back so I was on top, chest to chest.
He lifted a hand, pulled the side of my hair back and continued talking.
“The Club ran drugs, babe,” he said quietly, my body locked and I stared at him. “Not sales. Safe transport. And doin’ that, they did all that went with it. The path got darker and darker, the Club got deeper and deeper and I didn’t like it even before my Mom called and told me Kimmy was f**ked up.”
Right, okay, first things first.
“Tell me about Kimmy,” I urged.
Tack pulled in breath through his nostrils and I already knew the end was not a happy one. I still braced when he prepared by sifting his fingers through my hair and then pulling it away from my face again and burying his hand in it before he continued.
“You live our life, unless you develop a tough skin, that shit’ll eat you alive. I thought Kimmy had a tough skin. She was hard, seen it all, done it all by the age of twelve. Least that was the way she acted. I was wrong. She had a soft spot. I just didn’t see it so I sure as f**k didn’t protect it.”
Oh God.
I closed my eyes, Tack’s hand slid to my jaw and I opened them.
“Yeah,” he whispered, “you’re gettin’ it, babe.”
“That’s why you like mine,” I deduced in a return whisper.
“And that’s why I’ll bust my balls to protect it.”
Oh God.
“Go on,” I kept whispering.
He drew in another breath and then did as I asked.
“I left her behind but unlike my brother, I didn’t leave her. She mighta seemed hard but we were tight. She could be funny and we held together in a house that felt like a boat tossed in a storm all the f**kin’ time. She got it when I took off, she even told me to get the f**k out. But, soon’s I could, I reconnected with both of them but mostly Kimmy. And soon after that, I started to send her money in hopes she’d find her own way out. Brought her out to Colorado when I married Naomi. Brought them both out when Rush was born. Naomi was pregnant with Tabby, nearly to term when Mom called. Told me Kimmy was hooked on shit, totally f**ked up, stealin’, lyin’, turnin’ tricks.”