Page 2 of StoryTeller's Tale

If I ever get patched in.I acknowledge his comment with a raise of my chin. I’ve no problem with that handle. I just want to prove my worth and earn it. I’ve been prospecting eleven months, and as each day passes, I get the jitters that, however hard I try, I might not make the grade. If I don’t, I’ve no idea what my life will look like. Since starting life as a veteran, I’ve become completely invested in joining one of the biggest one-percenter MCs in the country with chapters all over the world. Drawn by the lifestyle, the camaraderie and the way they hold their middle finger up at authority, I can’t think of anywhere else where I’d fit in so well.

But they’ve got to want me. So, I do everything asked, with a smile on my face, however disgusting or grim the task may be, giving no one the opportunity to criticise or question my loyalty. Sometimes, like today, I’m rewarded. I’ve worked my ass off and finish everything early. When Bull, my sponsor, tells me to get my ass home, sensibly, I don’t argue.

I’m in a luckier position than most prospects who aren’t allowed to go with the club whores during the prospecting period, as I have a girlfriend who’s been with me prior to coming on board. At least I don’t have to suffer from blue balls, and I’ve a few ideas how to use the additional free time that’s been offered. As well as his permission to leave, Bull had also issued admonishments to get my ass back here early in the morning to compensate, but that’s fine.

Eagerly, I head for my bike and point it in the direction of my small, one-room apartment that I share with the love of my life, who I’d met shortly after I’d finished my final tour. Not a day goes by when I don’t thank fuck, I was in the right place at the right time to find her. She’s pretty, petite, intelligent and witty, and I hadn’t wasted time locking her down. We’d clicked immediately, hooked up, and have been together since. She’s got my ring on her finger, and, if I get my patch, I’ll do it properly and claim her as my old lady. Yeah, I’m pussy whipped. I’ll admit to it and take all the flack that my hopefully soon-to-be brothers throw at me.

She’s the one good fucking thing that’s happened to me in my life. She makes me want to be a better man, and I’m never going to let her down.

As I pull into the parking lot, knowing she won’t be expecting me this early, my lips curve at the thought of how pleased she’ll be—she often complains she doesn’t get to see me. More times than I can count, I don’t stagger in until the early hours, then need to be back at the crack of dawn. But good naturedly, she puts up with me putting in the long hours, as she knows how important joining the Wretched Soulz is to me.

I park my bike, then remember the florist just up the street. Fi deserves recognition for how much support she gives. So, I detour and pick up a bouquet of her favourite blooms, approaching the apartment on foot, carrying a bunch of the aromatic flowers.

I use my key, the initial words of my greeting coming out, “Honey, I’m…” But then the words stop.

It’s only a one-room apartment. Bedroom, living space and kitchen combined, so there’s nothing to hide the sight of my loving fiancée getting railed on the bed directly in my line of sight.

She’s clearly very much a willing participant, as witnessed by their loud grunts and groans, and frenzied athletic movements, which had it been another couple, might have impressed me. So intent on themselves, they’ve not noticed my voice or my entry.

With a roar, I throw the flowers down to the ground and launch forward, grabbing the naked man by his shoulder and pulling him off her. With an equally loud shout, he spins and faces me, his erect and wet dick swinging in the breeze.

“Stand the fuck down, Prospect,” he thunders. When I make another move toward him, he holds up his hands and repeats, “Stand the fuck down.”

Blinded by rage, I don’t listen. My fist rises and I hit him straight in the jaw, making him lurch backward.

The fucker shakes his head and grins, holding up his hands defensively. “I’ll give you that one, but not one more. You want that patch, don’t you?”

I want my patch.

“Jake,” Fi wails. “I didn’t, I couldn’t…” She swallows rapidly, as though trying to gain some time. But whatever fucking excuse she’s trying to come up with won’t settle with me. I could see she’d been into it as much as him. She tries, though. “I thought I was helping you get your patch.”

Like fuck, she did.

My brain works a million miles a minute. I’m a prospect. If I want my patch, I can’t hit a fucking member, or not again, seeing as he seems to have allowed that one shot to pass. Custer has had his patch for years, and is now standing, gloating, in front of me.

“Just making sure you can share, Prospect. Look at it as part of your initiation.” Then he fucking laughs.

Indecision sweeps through me. I’ve chased that patch for eleven months, but now I’m not sure I want to join the club anymore. The man inside wants his slice of revenge and wants to slap Custer’s smirk off his face.But I’ve worked so hard.And I’m a man who thrives on self-control.

“Get the fuck out of my apartment,” I roar. I may be able to buy myself time, but I won’t be able to hold back unless he gets out of my face.

He holds up his hands. “I’m going, I’m going.” He’s still laughing as he yanks on his jeans, steps into his boots, picks up his shirt and cut, and walks out of the door.

While I may be experiencing second thoughts about wanting to join the club, I’ve no doubts about the woman at the heart of this. Even naked, she’s trying to persuade me that I’d been mistaken in what I thought I saw, but I know my fucking eyes didn’t lie.

Ignoring her protests, I go to the closet and start pulling out her clothes. “Pack your shit.”

“Jake—”

“I said, pack your fuckin’ shit.” I growl. “Or I’ll just throw it out.”

Fi’s weeping, begging, telling me it’s all a mistake, but I know it isn’t. When I ask how long she’s been fucking him behind my back, she can’t lie for shit. Oh, she tries, but I can see straight through her.

I just about hold it together until she finally leaves, tears streaking her face, but leaving me cold.

Then, when the door closes behind her, I wait only for the sound of her car engine to start before I fall to my knees, my hands clasping my head, as I lose my battle to hold everything together.

I thought she was it for me. My ride or die.

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