Page 8 of A Biker for Noelle
“Yep, and I work again tomorrow.”
“Does that mean we’re staying?” he asks hopefully.
“Yeah, buddy. We’re staying in Ember Falls. For now, anyway.” I put my hand in my pocket and pull out what’s left of my tip money. I count thirty-seven dollars. My stomach drops. More is needed for gas and a cheap hotel. I eye the gas gauge, which is sitting close to empty. We need gas. Without gas, I can’t get back to work tomorrow. But no hotel means sleeping in the car. The threat of tears stings my eyes. I feel so helpless.
“What’s wrong, Noelle?”
I look at my brother as I force myself to keep the tears at bay. I have to be strong for him. “I have enough money for gas but not a hotel. I’m sorry, buddy, but it looks like we’re camping out in the car tonight. But just for tonight. I’m sure I’ll make enough tips tomorrow to get us a hotel.” I grab his hand. “We’re going to be okay.”
Zack squeezes me back. “I know we will, Nelly. I believe in you.”
God, this kid.
“Come on.” I put on my seatbelt. “Let’s get gas. Grab your toothbrush from your bag in the back. You can brush your teeth in the bathroom at the gas station.”
Thirty minutes later, I drive back by the bar to see the parking lot is completely empty, so Eazy must have gone home for the night too. I slowly make my way around back and decide behind the bar is secluded enough. I make a mental note to set the alarm on my phone to ensure I’m gone early before my new boss or anyone shows up.
“I’m going to move all our stuff to the trunk, and you can lay on the back seat.”
“But we only have one blanket,” Zack points out.
“I have my coat. I’ll be okay.”
“Nelly.” Zack goes to protest.
“Go on, buddy. Climb in the back. I promise I’ll be okay.”
Zack hesitates but eventually does as he’s told. I set the alarm on my phone and let the back of my seat down a little. It doesn’t take Zack long before he’s out, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Me, on the other hand, can’t settle long enough to fall asleep. Though I’m dog-tired, I can’t help but stay on high alert. Not only because Zack’s father could be out there somewhere, but a woman and a child sleeping in a car is dangerous. I don’t know how long I sit here staring at the clock on the dash, willing the time to hurry up and move.
Suddenly, the heat stops working again.
As if my luck couldn’t get any worse.
CHAPTER FOUR
Eazy
As I lay in the quiet darkness of the clubhouse, I can’t help but think about Noelle, the woman who has effortlessly captured my attention. Why has she taken up residence in my thoughts so quickly? I couldn’t keep my eyes off her as she moved around the bar room. And the fact that I wanted to rearrange the face of every man who took notice of her has me all fucked in the head. Why do I feel this damn possessive over a woman I have just met? It’s been weeks since I’ve been laid. Maybe I just need some pussy.Preferably Noelle’s.“Fuck.” I scrub my hand down my face. I need to get this chic out of my head.
My eyes wander toward a picture of my old man and me on the wall, captured by my mom as we rode our Harleys side by side during my first official ride as a club member. A pang of grief, mixed with anger, floods my core, and I let myself stay with the emotions, mostly to drown out my persistent thoughts of Noelle.
I never imagined I would be the one to carry forward my father’s legacy as the president of our motorcycle club—at least, not for many more years. Growing up within the club, I witnessed everything—the unbreakable brotherhood, unwavering loyalty, and the exhilarating freedom of the open road.
I also witnessed the dark side of the MC life—the looming danger, violence, and the heart-wrenching sorrow when lives were lost.
I allow my memories to consume me. The day we lost my dad is etched in my memory like it happened yesterday. We were returning from a biker rally in Polson, the wind whipping against our faces and the thunderous roar of our engines reverberating beneath us. True to his nature, my father led the pack, a fearless leader devoted to the club. As we approached a sharp turn, an arm extended out the driver’s window of a truck heading in the opposite direction, and in their hand was a gun.
A single gunshot.
My father swerved.
I watched in horror as he was flung through the air, landing harshly on the unforgiving pavement.
Half the men took off after the shooter. The rest of us raced to my father’s side.
He struggled for breath while a pool of blood spread beneath him. I grappled with a strong feeling of helplessness, and a rage I’d never experienced before filled my insides because there was nothing more I could do for him, nothing any of us could do as we waited for first responders. There, on the side of the road, I watched his life slipping away. His parting words still echo in my mind,“This is my last ride.”
It wasn’t the crash that killed him, but the bullet that went in through his back, tearing through his heart. Before we laid my old man to rest, before we took time to mourn the lossof our president, we went hunting. Catching and killing the motherfucker ordered to take out my dad wasn’t enough. I needed every member of Death Reapers dead first. The club thirsted for blood and vengeance, which is precisely what we accomplished.
