The Faintest Spark: Roadmap to Your Heart, Book #1.5 Page 2

  “No,” I replied and his eyebrows shot to his hairline. “If you identify as bisexual that means you can be attracted to men and women regardless of whether you’re in a monogamous relationship with somebody or not.”

  He gaped at me as if I’d just sucker-punched him.

  “I’ve been in relationships with both men and women,” I explained. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t find the opposite sex attractive anymore. I just stayed faithful to who I was with.”

  “Suppose that makes sense,” he responded after another breath. “Huh. Go figure.”

  We drank our beers and shot the breeze until closing time, and it felt good to get out. Especially showing up here and working through the scary shit this place had represented just an hour ago in my dreams. Hoped this meant it was smooth sailing from here on out.

  1

  Malachi

  Felix and I had been on the road for the better part of three hours, but as soon as we pulled into the small town of Woodale and found our usual destination—the Roadside Hotel—I felt like I could breathe again. After this weekend, I might even put the events of the last couple of months behind me. My head was all messed up, and I needed to finally get it straight.

  Once our affiliate organizations heard how our clubs helped take the Asylum down, an emergency meeting was called for all Northeast presidents. I knew it was coming, and I welcomed the opportunity to get some shit hammered out.

  The Scorpions and Disciples were on board with the idea of earning our keep honestly from this point forward, but I still needed to make nice with the other leaders—some of whom undoubtedly thought we were thumbing our noses at them.

  I motioned toward the far open spaces so we could park our bikes alongside the several dozen rides already there. The Roadside was known as a biker haunt, so more than likely, these hogs belonged to the regular townsfolk. You could generally tell the difference by make and model. Clubs stuck to riding Harleys because it was tradition dating back to the Second World War. Nowadays, the brand had been cast aside by more economical, and in some cases, more durable rides.

  As soon as I killed the engine on my Dyna Fat Bob, I felt a jolt and then heard a sputter. My hog had been riding rough for me lately, and I’d been reluctant to trade her in. She was definitely in need of a tune up after this trip.

  Sawyer was one of the mechanics in the Scorpions’ garage and though I’d be remiss not to ask him about it, this weekend was all about getting these strange emotions I had toward him under control. Thankfully Fish was bringing Zeke this trip, though scanning the lot, I had yet to see either of their bikes.

  Once I removed my helmet and swung my leg over the seat, I felt a clap on my back. “Good to see you, Mal,” DJ, the Crypt Keepers’ president remarked and then shook hands with Felix, who introduced himself as one of our newest members. I had chosen to bring Felix with me this time around since he’d recently earned his patch and wore it proud. Plus, he’d been good to Smoke and Vaughn, and I respected him for it.

  Like most club presidents in attendance, we’d left our second in command to man the helm of the ship. Once Fish and Zeke arrived, I’d at least feel surrounded by like-minded brothers. Many of these guys went way back and were tight with each other, but a few could still be pricks, especially if you were attempting to change with the times. And though we pretty much stayed out of each other’s business, tensions still ran high from some of our former dealings over the years.

  When I looked up at the worn wooden Roadside sign, a pang of nostalgia hit my gut. The last trip out here, Sheila, my old lady, was with me. We were rarely apart and at the time, I thought maybe we were building a forever together. But like my dad and Smoke, she had succumbed to addiction and when I found her unconscious in the bathroom at the compound, that’s when my heart shattered into a million pieces.

  A woman with blond hair the color of wheat walked by on the arm of a hotel patron, and it hit me how much I’d been missing my old lady something fierce. Not because of the sex—that was paraded in front of me on a daily basis. More like the companionship. That indescribable thing that filled the lonely void inside of me. No other woman had come close and some of the guys joked that my standards were too high, that I was trying to fill her shoes, but it wasn’t true. I was only looking for somebody to get me, to make me feel things all the way down to my soul like she once did.

  Although by the time I’d found her and they’d pronounced her DOA on the way to the hospital, she wasn’t really my Sheila anymore. Since then I’d been on a mission of sorts to save some of these kids under my charge. Smoke had been nearly hopeless and I’d thought maybe Sawyer was next, given all the drugs he needed to be around while working as a snitch with the Asylum. But somehow he’d pulled himself out of it, and I’d never forget his strength and resolve.

  There was just something special about him I didn’t think others could see. Maybe he was too quiet, too good at being invisible when he needed to be. Even to the man in charge of the club he’d sworn allegiance to. But that was none of my business—or at least it wasn’t supposed to be.

  “Ready, Prez?” Felix asked as I followed him toward the entrance. The town was quiet and quaint, and the Roadside boasted its own restaurant and bar as well as modest lodging. The owner would allow us to do our business here as long as we didn’t bring any trouble their way.

  In return, we agreed to participate in a couple of bike shows a year, including the one happening with the townsfolk tomorrow. It was an enjoyable no-brainer. MCs always appreciated showing off their hogs with some bravado thrown in. I had noticed the outdoor stage, food stands, and marquee already being set up as we rode through to our destination.

  Once we walked inside to the check-in counter, I recognized the same clerk from the last visit stationed behind the large mahogany desk near the elevators. She was getting up in age and looked like a kindly grandmother, save for her sleeve of tattoos and the leather vest bearing a mock patch that read Biker Chick.

  We got our keys and went our separate ways to our rooms, agreeing to meet back downstairs in an hour to grab a bite at the restaurant. I placed my bag near the queen-sized bed before kicking off my boots and sliding out of my cut. Washing up at the bathroom sink, it felt good to remove the layer of road dirt from my skin. After I patted my face with a hand towel and stepped back into my boots, I stood at the window and just breathed for a few minutes.

  I fished out my phone and sent Jonas a text: Arrived. All okay?

  Jonas: Yep. Spoke to the junkyard owner about the lease.

  The junkyard was a new venture the Disciples were excited about and one more way for our club to remain independent. Cool.

  Jonas: Got a large delivery at Chrome just now. Helping get it organized before sending supplies to Fisher’s garage.

  The Scorpions’ business was named after their prez and apparently, Fish’s family had been in the auto trade for decades. I was hoping he’d go in on the junkyard deal with us as well. Right then, I pictured Sawyer in the garage with a streak of grease across his cheek and beneath his fingernails and felt a pang of possessiveness hit me. Almost like I wished he were under my charge instead. That way I could keep better watch over him and show him how much he was appreciated.

  Where the hell had that thought come from?

  Truth was, I couldn’t stop thinking about that one night. How he looked so damned broken. When I nudged him forward he fell against me like he needed someone to hold him…take care of him. He had just done something huge for my club, and I wanted to express how much his sacrifice had meant to me with more than just my words.

  I had this urge to soothe him, knock the sad out of him. And the idea of that scared the shit out of me. Because it was different from how I felt about other men—Smoke, for example. He was more like a brother or maybe a son, and though Sawyer was around the same age, this was a different sort of compulsion than I’d ever experienced. I figured I was just hard up—for companionship or maybe intimacy.

&nb
sp; So this weekend away would do me good. Maybe I’d get laid in this godforsaken town, and it would finally help relieve the tension I kept feeling every time I was around him. I ain’t never been attracted to a guy, and I wasn’t about to allow myself to be now. Not when I had so much on my plate as the Disciples’ president.

  I took a deep breath, threw my cut back on, and bypassing the old-school rickety elevators that always made me uneasy, headed down the two flights of stairs to the lobby. There were a few clusters of people standing around, none I recognized, so I cruised straight through the door. Stepping out into the sunshine felt good, and I spotted Felix having a smoke close to where our bikes were parked. I leaned along the edge of the railing beside him and watched as a couple of other heads showed up for the weekend.

  “You’ve got more silver now,” a familiar face remarked as he walked up. Slider was the president of the Tomb Raiders, the same guy who’d called for this meeting. I had only met him on one other occasion when he told me his nickname came from a nasty road accident that landed him in a ditch and in recovery for nearly a year.

  “Figure, why fight it?” I replied, shaking his hand. “My pop went gray early as well.”

  “You are getting up there now,” he said with a belly laugh. “What are you—pushing forty-five?”

  I shook my head because though I was older to my crew, some of these other men had been around the block a lot longer than I. “Something like that. Don’t go outing me. I need to pretend like I can still kick it with these guys.”

  His laughter was drowned out by a couple of Harley engines riding into town and searching for a spot to park. I recognized Fish’s Cruiser, but it was the other bike that made me nearly swallow my tongue.

  “What the fuck is he doing here?” I grumbled out loud even as my pulse thundered in my veins.

  “Who, Sawyer?” Felix asked, eyebrow arched. “I thought you were cool with him.”

  “I am,” I responded, swallowing down my shock. “Just thought he was bringing Zeke is all.”

  I watched as they parked at the end of a line of bikes and pretended to listen in on Felix’s conversation with the Tomb Raiders’ recruit.

  When Sawyer removed his helmet, he pushed his thick black hair out of his face and swiped at the dust on his coat from the road. His eyes weary. His arms slack as he leaned against me, giving me his full weight. My stomach clenched tight like it had been doing every time I’d seen him lately.

  “Have a good ride out?” I asked through a clamped jaw as Fish and Sawyer approached.

  “Zeke’s old lady went into labor, and I told him to take care of business,” Fish replied after shaking his head. I felt a momentary pang of longing. Always thought Sheila and I might have a kid or two.…Funny how life throws you curve balls.

  “Yeah, of course,” I replied, feeling guilty for getting upset in the first place. “Be sure to tell me when they’ve got some news to share.”

  Sawyer avoided eye contact, and that only spurred on my mood. Like maybe he knew I was working through something and didn’t want to stir the pot.

  “Asked Sawyer to ride along instead,” Fish continued. “Figured he’d have plenty to share about what went down that night.”

  When Fish turned away as the Tomb Raiders’ president greeted him, I muttered in Sawyer’s direction, “You up for that?”

  Sawyer’s jaw ticked as his gaze finally landed on mine. “ ’Course I am. What the fuck?”

  He stared me down like it was a challenge, and hell if that didn’t make me like him more. Despite having some down times, he was a proud motherfucker and I admired that about him. “My bad.”

  “Damn straight,” he grumbled as he grabbed hold of his bag and lifted it higher on his shoulder. My eyes stayed pinned to him, my stomach feeling unsteady, hoping to get back on common ground. “Take a picture; it lasts longer.”

  My jaw dropped open as his mouth twisted into a smirk. Little fucker. Just as I was about to wage a comeback, Fish twisted around, tuning into our conversation.

  “All right then,” I said, standing up and thumping Fish’s back. “Going to grab something to eat at the diner. See you later.”

  Felix stubbed out his cigarette and followed closely behind, and I didn’t dare turn in Sawyer’s direction again. Although maybe it was time to face this—whatever this was between us—head on.

  2

  Sawyer

  I watched as Mal headed toward the restaurant with Felix. He wasn’t expecting me—the disbelief was apparent in his eyes—and, dammit, I needed to shake off this stupid fixation I had on him. He was the president of the Disciples of the Road, for Christ’s sake. It didn’t matter if he was hot as fuck, that we’d sort of become friends, or that I’d looked forward to my private meetings with him while undercover with the Asylum. Not even that he’d placed his hands on me in a tender way more than once.

  Besides, my thinking was more than likely skewed. He was one of the only forms of solace I had during that shitty time. Plus, Mal had a vested interest because Jake the Snake was messing with one of his own, and instead of taking him out on the spot and starting a feud, the intel I gleaned from my intimate moments with that psycho helped finish their club for good.

  I was okay with the fact that Fish had basically bartered me out knowing my penchant for men. Besides, the whole ordeal had earned me my patch. Even if it had stolen a piece of my soul.

  “Let’s get our rooms,” Fish remarked—speak of the devil—thumping me on the back. I wouldn’t doubt his soul was a bit worse for wear as well. MC clubs were filled with men who’d lost their shirts along with slivers of their hearts, and we all needed a safe place to hang our hats at the door.

  Mal glanced back one final time before he entered the diner, but he could’ve been searching for anyone. Truth be told, he’d been acting strange around me since the night of the takedown—when he’d pulled me into his arms and his fingers were in my hair.

  In months past, I’d witnessed him being almost fatherly with Smoke, so I supposed his concern was nothing new. Except this felt different. For a split second, I’d thought his mouth was going to land on mine, and I certainly would’ve welcomed it. Although the timing might’ve been shitty and besides, it was probably more wishful thinking than anything. We were alone in that room at the compound, I was distraught, and he went out of his way to take care of me. For that, I’d always be grateful.

  “Going to jump in the shower and check in with the guys,” Fish said as we got our room keys and made our way to the elevator that had seen better days. His room was on the second floor and mine was on the third in this building that reminded me somewhat of an old Victorian inn. “Might even shut my eyes for a few.”

  “Sounds good,” I replied as the elevator jolted to a stop at his floor. Undoubtedly, I needed this weekend away from all the talk around the club, all the buzz about what went down. Hearing about it day after day did nothing for my psyche, let alone the nightmares.

  I padded into my room, which contained a queen-sized bed, and sank down into the sheets, hoping to nod off for a good hour. But even away from the club, I thought about that disturbed fucker. How he’d still had a thing for Smoke, which was why he broke into Vaughn’s place and fucked with his boyfriend’s stuff.

  Good thing was, he was so messed up by the end, he only wanted to suck me off and pretend I was his blond pretty boy. Smoke and I looked nothing alike, but in Jake’s distorted mind, it didn’t even matter. Even let club secrets slip during his hazy moments, the dumb fuck.

  Springing up, I tore off my shirt, kicked out of my jeans, and jumped into the shower. I turned the dial all the way to the left, practically scalding my skin, but hot enough to scrub him free from my brain.

  Afterward, I lay down and was finally lulled into sleep—likely from sheer exhaustion because next thing I knew, my phone buzzed with a text from Fish: Heading to the bar to grab some beer and grub.

  After washing my face and finger-combing my unruly hair, I mad
e my way down to the Roadside Bar and found it nearly full with locals as well as patch-wearing MCs. Apparently, the owner used to be with the Crypt Keepers so he knew our kind well and whenever we had business to attend to, he let us congregate here.

  I spotted Fish at a table with a couple of other men. “Pull up a chair.” He motioned to a seat beside him and then proceeded to introduce me to Slider and DJ, presidents of other clubs.

  “I hear you’re a kick-ass mechanic,” the Tomb Raiders’ prez said as I shook his hand.

  I tipped my chin in thanks for the compliment, my chest stirring with pride because working on bikes was a skill I’d learned from my grandfather, and I always hoped he’d be proud. “Got my grandpops to thank for that. Taught me everything I know.”

  As we ordered burgers and beers, I felt grateful he hadn’t asked me about my time with the Asylum, respectfully waiting for the formal meeting in the morning. But I was no dummy; I knew rumors spread from club to club like wildfire. I heard the low buzz when I walked into the bar, but I didn’t make eye contact with anybody, hoping to avoid any shade this weekend. I knew folks were wondering what exactly I’d been doing in private with Jake besides befriending him and gathering intel.

  Fish told Slider and DJ how busy we’d been this past year at the garage, how we got most of our supplies from the Disciples Chrome shop, and I interjected here and there about some of the vintage bikes I’d been privileged enough to work on.

  When I looked around the space and noticed cuts and patches, I counted roughly eight other clubs in attendance. I didn’t see Mal but I spotted Felix across the way, flirting with one of the servers. Rock music was piping through the sound system and some of the locals were dancing in the center of the makeshift floor. Some type of band was setting up to play if the men hauling large speaker cabinets and microphones were any indication.