Page 80 of Petty's Crime

A cold shiver suddenly comes over me. A moment ago, I was thinking of the bikers as friends. Now I’m not certain they’re any easier to handle than the snakes that I’m so afraid of.

My trials are over. Saul will not be coming for me again. Thankfully, I no longer need the services of these men.

It’s ironic that I helped Petty stay a part of this club which makes him just as dangerous to me. Whatever embryonic feelings I have for him need to come to an end.

I need to get out. My lungs feel starved for some fresh, untainted air. Standing, my voice isn’t quite steady, even though I pull back my shoulders and try to summon my backbone. “Send Bart the final invoice. Our paths won’t cross again.”

The prez of the Satan’s Devils MC raises his chin. With a quirk to his mouth, he tells me, “It was nice doing business with you.”

Twister opens the door and escorts me into the clubroom. He pauses. “You want to see Petty before you leave?”

Yes,my heart screams.No,shouts my brain. My head wins out. “Petty belongs here, and I don’t.”

He grimaces. “Yeah, I kind of got that.”

Standing back, he unnecessarily waves his hand toward the door. As I take a step forward, my eyes fall on Britney who’s seated at the side of the bar, looking quite at home. She sneers at me, and I turn away.

The sight of her sickens me. Upstairs is the man who she not only beat up, she tried to get evicted from his club. Downstairs is the body of an abuser who’s met his just desserts. And here she sits, looking like she hasn’t a care in the world.

Not my problem,I tell myself even while my hands clench and my stomach roils.It’s just the way of this patriarchal world.

Her apparent lack of retribution emphasises I have to leave. I don’t want any part of this domain that thinks life is sacred for one sex, and cheap for the other.

I take one step and then another as I head for the door, having to halt to allow a very scantily clad woman to pass. She’s carrying a tray that, if I’m not mistaken, looks destined for the invalid in his room above.

A pang goes through me and I try to convince myself I’ve no reason to feel jealous.

It's not as easy to walk away from Petty as I thought.

But instead of wavering, I resume my walk toward the door, and once outside, head straight for my car.

I start it, take one look behind at the clubhouse full of bikers I doubt I’ll ever cross paths with again, then reverse out of my parking spot and drive through the gates.

When I reach a place I can pull over, I stop and let the tears fall. Although he doesn’t deserve them, some are shed for Saul. Some for myself at the shock of seeing him killed, but most, well, most are for the man I was with in Texas.

I could easily have fallen in love with Clark. With Petty, I’m not so sure. And he’s so much part of the club that I don’t feel I can be associated with anymore. Maybe in time I’ll accept that there could have been no other end for Saul. The ease at which they’d taken his life had left me shocked to the core.

I dab at my tears and will them to stop, trying to focus that I don’t have Saul stalking me anymore. I need no longer be afraid of what he’ll do next, or worry about returning to find more snakes in my house.

Perhaps his death can be laid at my door. I insisted on talking to him, though I doubt the Devils would have allowed him to go free, whether or not I saw. But if I hadn’t, I could have remained in ignorance about the sort of men that they are, and probably accepted their assurance they’d run him off.

He’d still be dead.Would it really be better if I suspected but didn’t know? At the least I wouldn’t have a weapon kept in a safe with my fingerprints on it.

Do I trust the Devils to use it simply as insurance, or do I go through life worried they might implicate me in a crime?

I know why they did it. They shot a man right in front of me.

One thing’s for certain. I can never afford to get mixed up with the Devils again. I’ll get their final invoice paid, give them a truthful reference—they kept me safe and removed the threat from my life—and hope that in future our paths won’t cross.

I’ll miss Sarge. I’ll miss Roller.They’ve become like brothers to me. As I pull into my driveway and park outside my house, I realise how long it’s been since I felt truly alone.

A trickle of unease goes through me as I walk in my front door. The house is quiet, and, thanks to Owl and Meat, relatively tidy, though I suspect I’ll be putting stuff back into its right place for days. I pause, listen, but I hear no rattling.

Though there’s no evidence that the bikers hadn’t done what they said, and had cleared the house of all reptiles, goosebumps arise on my skin at the memory of them being there, and what might have been.

It’s then I determine, there are too many memories in this house. I’m going to sell it and move. This time it won’t be to hopefully somewhere Saul can’t find me, as that won’t happen again.Because he’s dead.

I head straight for the shower, feeling I’ve got Saul’s blood splatter on me, even though I’m pretty sure I don’t. My clothes go straight into the garbage, and I stand under the spray for far too long. Even when I’m clean, I feel like the stains still cling to me. I rub my hands up and down my arms, and try to remind myself it was him or me.

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