Page 15 of Ripper
“I’ll make the next one. I promise.”
“All right,” he said, and I heard the doubt in his voice, but I didn’t care.
Right now, the only place I wanted to be was with Ronnie. I needed a break away from the chaos that was brewing around Mascid and the return of those Freeway Fucks. For once I had something else to care about besides keeping the club in order.
I pulled back the velvet curtain to find Ronnie standing alone, staring at a corkboard full of pictures.
“Where’s Moira?”
“She went to get more photos. So this is what my dad looked like in his prime. It’s almost exactly as I imagined it. If he were here right now, I wonder what he’d say about me being back home. He never wanted me to get involved in his old life, but I still don’t know why,” she confessed.
“This life is a dangerous one. There’s usually trouble waiting around every corner, but that doesn’t mean you can’t live a little every once in a while. Shit happens no matter where you go or what you do. You just have to have the right people looking out for you.”
I inched closer to her, watching that familiar glint in her eyes sparkle in the soft warm light. I wanted to pull her in close, to kiss her, but before I could get the chance, I heard Moira’s heeled boots approaching. Ronnie smiled softly, glancing down at the floor, before turning her attention to the photo albums in Moira’s hands.
Chapter Four
Veronica
I stepped out of the shower, wrapping my towel around my body as I headed back off to the guest bedroom. The cool air-conditioning made me shiver as I slipped into a fresh pair of jeans and a T-shirt. I wrung my wet hair out in the towel, letting it air dry for a bit while I did my make-up. I pulled out my little make-up pouch, painting a light wash of pink over my lips, and two coats of mascara before I was practically ready to head out the door. I glanced down at my vanity to see the picture in the frame that had been sitting there ever since I was a little kid and used to spend my weekends here. There my dad stood with his graying beard and his arm wrapped around his brother. I took a good look at the tattoos on his arm, and I remembered the time I’d asked him about each one.
Every memory of him came rushing back to me in flashes, and I thought about the day he pulled me out of school to accompany him to a tattoo shop. I sat comfortably in the corner chair drinking a sugary soda after he made me promise not to tell Mom, and I watched the buzzing needle paint my name into his skin.That was my handwriting. The handwriting of a young five-year-old girl who had an awful lot to learn about the world,I thought. I could see it peeking out in the photograph, and I ran my fingertips along it lightly.
My hair was an organized mess of air-dried curls when I finally made it out the door, getting into the truck, and driving down to the shop. The entire ride there I found myself feeling a bit strange, like someone was following me. Every time I stopped at a red light, I always looked behind me trying to see if there was anyone there and if they’d been tailing me, but there was no one. All I saw were the angry, impatient drivers honking at me to get out of the way so they could get a move on.You’re being crazy. Uncle Axle tells you about the dangers of getting involved with bikers and you suddenly feel like you’re wrapped up in all of it? Come on. This is your fresh start, Ronnie. Act like it.
Axle was guzzling water from an ice-cold bottle when I arrived. He looked surprised to see me, and I smiled.
“What in the world are you doing here, Ronnie? You do know you have the day off today, right?”
“I know, but I said it couldn’t hurt for me to come down here and help you out anyway,” I said.
“Nah, you’re just hoping to run into ole Ripper, aren’t you? I heard you two talking the other day. I told you that getting involved with those bikers, even the good ones like the Rebels is a bad idea, Ronnie. Trust me, you’re much better off not getting wrapped up in all of that,” he warned.
“I’ll be fine, Uncle Axle. Ripper and I barely even know each other. Besides, I’m sure I can handle myself. You and Dad did a pretty good job of holding your own when you were my age. So did Mom and Aunt Ruby, if I remember correctly.”
“I just want you to be careful. If shit starts to hit the fan I don’t want you going anywhere near ’em.”
“I’ll stay out of trouble, Uncle Axle.”
“Thank you, Ronnie.”
He wouldn’t let me do any real work today, but I helped him clean up before I had to head out. The thought of seeing Ripper again made my heart flutter. My cheeks grew hotter just thinking about it. I could practically hear his words rippling through my mind again, the perfect where and when to really show him what I was made of.
Every time I got even the slightest bit near him, I was captivated by how good he smelled, the way his hair fell effortlessly into his eyes, and the tattoos that each definitely had a story I couldn’t wait to learn all about. There was something about him that truly defined what it meant to be home, and I couldn’t silence the part of me that wanted to know what he was really about. I’d been sheltered my whole life, told that I needed to live by the book and that cutting corners wasn’t going to get me anywhere, but I was starting to think differently now.
Once the shop was practically spotless, Uncle Axle thanked me before I got onto the back of my bike and rode out to the Tavern. My heart started to beat loudly in my chest as I approached. I spotted Ripper’s bike parked right out front. It was in perfect condition after I’d fixed it up, and I knew it must’ve felt good to finally be back on his own precious ride after all that time. I studied it closely, remembering the condition it was in when he first pulled it into the shop. I cleaned some blood off the back wheel, perplexed at what he must’ve gone through for it to get there in the first place.
I could tell by the body of the bike that it’d been through the wringer. He’s probably had it fixed at least a few times, and I imagined that each one of them had its own story behind it. I inched closer to the bike, running my fingertips along the handles while flashes of Ripper possibly wiping out flitted across my mind. The paint was fully redone, the wheels tightened and sitting perfectly, all in time for Ripper to get back out on the road where he felt like he belonged.
“Hey there, Veronica.” I heard his warm, low voice as I waltzed right into the bar.
“Oh my God. You scared me.”
“Checking out your work, huh?”
“Just trying to make sure it’s all good to go if we’re going to have a fair race. Wouldn’t want you to spin out,” I said, with a wink.
“Ha-ha. Come on, let’s get you inside.”
