Page 18 of Eden's Joker

Maybe he needs to hear it. He’ll just call it bullshit that only works in my romance novels, but maybe he’ll think about it too. I grew up always fearing he’d just not come home one day. Now I’m worried about the same for my sister. And my friends and cousin and everyone else. Plus, my father and his MC brothers aren’t young men anymore. There’s grey in my dad’s hair that wasn’t there before this war started.

I’m just about to tell him all that when his phone rings. He answers the call, listens for about a minute, says, “I’m on my way,” and ends the call.

He lets go of me and stands up, glancing into the kitchen where mom and Summer are now sitting at the table, holding hands. Big, fat tears are rolling down my mom’s cheeks and Summer is doing her best to comfort her.

“I gotta go up to Sanctuary,” he says. “Tell your mom I’ll be late getting back.”

I stand up too. “Are you riding against those guys tonight?”

He shakes his head. “I would. But Cross wants to plan some more.”

He sounds disgusted by the idea.

“Maybe he’s right,” I say. “Maybe… “

My dad flashes me a look that’s very hard and very dead. “Peace and forgiveness are all well and good. But when it comes to my daughters, I have none of it to give. They’re not getting away with what they did to Summer.”

The intensity in his words shuts me right up.

“Be careful,” I say and give him a big hug, which he only partly returns.

In his mind, he’s already in revenge mode, in killing mode, and nothing much touches him when he’s there.

I stand on the edge of the porch and watch him ride off.

Another reason why I’m so happy to have met Tyler is that he’s a biker like my dad, and all the guys I grew up around, but he’s not a killer like all of them are. I feel like a total traitor thinking that, because I love my extended family with all my heart. But they are what they are. Ruthless. Tyler is such an innocent compared to them. Just like me—a sheep among wolves.

I really shouldn’t have just blown him off this morning. I hope I can still make it right.Because I’m not ready for our story to end. I think it could turn into something truly beautiful.

12

Joker

Just riding into the town of Pleasantville, which is where Devil’s Nightmare MC has their HQ, is not an option for a strange biker these days. The Devils have it locked down so tight that even just passing through is damn near impossible. So I stashed my bike in the woods near the burned out ruins of a strip joint and made the trip on foot. That strip joint is where Cross’ son Hunter was nearly stabbed to death. The Devils went crazy over that, bringing so much death and destruction on the MC that was responsible, that it could be said they started this war all by themselves.

They sure started it early. I wasn’t prepared yet, neither were the other clubs that have banded together to seek revenge against the Devils. I’d spent years whispering into the ears of any club president who wouldlisten that the Devils must pay for all they’ve done to others over the years. They used to be a mercenary sort of outfit, killers for hire who would wipe out anyone for the right amount of money. They pride themselves on always paying their debts. Well, it was time for them to finally pay the biggest debt of all—the one they racked up with the grieving loved ones of all the men they killed for money over the years.

At first, I was laughed at by all those MC presidents. They didn’t think it was possible. The Devils had too many weapons, too much experience, and were too well trained for anyone to stand a chance against them. They called me crazy, called me a joker, which is why I took it for my name.

But eventually they started listening to what I had to say. That the Devils were just men, who could be beat. Especially now that they got out of the mercenary business and were just sitting back, getting fat on the proceeds of their weapons trafficking operation.

So, finally they went to war against the Devils. On their own. Leaving me and my MC on the sidelines. That still rankles. And I have a lot of time to wallow in it as I hike through the dense woods to get to the town center and Eden.

But he who laughs last laughs the loudest and that’s soon to be me. All the leaders of the war against the Devils are dead now. So my way to take over the alliance at war with the Devils is now cleared. Right after I bring them to their knees by snatching innocentlittle Eden, I will call on all the other MCs so we can destroy the Devils once and for all.

I’d expected to meet some of the Devils as I neared the town, but it seems they’ve relaxed their security since I was here last. They’re probably feeling all nice and secure now that they took out the heads of the MCs waging war against them. Just one more way their arrogance and superiority will end up biting them in the ass. I could’ve probably ridden right up to Eden’s bookstore without being stopped.

It’s midday when I reach Main Street in Pleasantville and the streets are packed with happy families and other jolly people. How the Devils can still call themselves one percenters living in a gentrified, cookie-cutter town like this is beyond me. It’s not quite as bad as that hippie monstrosity Eden chose for our first date, but it’s a close second. Everything here is shiny and new and looks very expensive. That includes all the people in their designer clothing, buying all sorts of overpriced crap in the boutiques along Main Street. Or drinking overpriced lattes and cappuccinos in the cafes. Or eating pretentious food in the fancy restaurants.

Give me a dirty, rundown town or city any day. That’s where I feel at home. These happy-happy, clean, and proper towns give me the creeps.

Eden’s bookstore is shut, a note in the window apologizing for the inconvenience and citing a family emergency. That piques my interest and gives me hopethat maybe my plan can still go ahead the way I imagined it. I sit down in the cafe across the street and order a cappuccino—the first ever in my life. It’s what all the tatted-up hipsters around me are drinking and I gotta pretend I’m one of them so no one suspects I’m actually an outlaw biker. Good thing it’s very hard to distinguish between the two these days. Like the guy sitting at the table next to me, whining that the fake milk in his latte isn’t actually vegan. Both his arms are covered by tats, though I doubt he’s harmed so much as an ant in his life, let alone killed a man, which is what sleeve tattoos used to symbolize.

I can see Eden moving around in her apartment above the bookstore. She’s on the phone a lot. At one point she took a shower, washing her long dark brown hair. It gleams like polished black wood as she stands by the open window, wrapped in just a towel and yakking away on the phone.

I hate it that all the guys in the cafe—including the pussy vegan hipster next to me—and on the street as a whole, get to see her like that. That should be for my eyes only.

Three cappuccinos and five hours later she finally leaves the apartment. I hide behind the book I’ve been reading with my coffee. It’s one of hers, because the price tag with her logo is still on it. She must’ve donated it to the cafe or something, because I got it off the rack by the bar.

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