Page 2 of Saving Helena

“Roscoe, nice to see you and the boys. What’ll it be?” the bartender asked the man in a friendly voice. Ah, a regular.

“Beer is good, Jake. Thanks,” a man, Roscoe, I presumed, slid onto the stool beside me.

“That your bike out front?”

The cut he was wearing was from the Iron Brotherhood motorcycle club. They weren’t anything to joke about.They were organizedand efficient, but they all had a decent reputation. This guy was a patched member and, ifI wasn’t mistaken, thepresident of the Brotherhood. That was a big deal,a hugedeal. Not that it was any business of mine.

“Yeah, it’s mine,” I answered. There was no harm in conversation, I figured. “I like to ride just as much asanyone, I guess.” Tipping my glasstowards hiscut,I indicated the patches.

“True enough,” he laughed easily. “Where are you riding too?”

“Nowhere, really,” I shrugged. “Anywhere.”

That was my truth. Since I’d been discharged from the military, I’d been riding aimlessly through the West Coast, searching for something—a sense of purpose, maybe? Coming home hadn’t set well on my shoulders after all. The decision that once appeared promising now feels uncomfortable, like a sweater that constantly itches.

The men he came in with had settled at the tables andengaged ina half-hearted, loudargument, jostling each other and scrambling with chairs.

“Denny, knock it off,” Roscoe shouted out. “We’re in public. Our image.” He tapped the cut with a grin, andthe men at the table hooted and hollered. Suddenly, amournful feeling rose in me, andmy loneliness doubled. These men had what I wanted: a team — a family.

“Well, afterthis,we’re returning to Phoenix. We always welcome company. Ride with us,” Roscoe offered.

Shooting down mydrink,I took it for the lifeline it was. “I’d like that.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Maddox – 25 Helena - Age 16 1/2

“Don’t look at her like that,” I told the asshole next to me.He’dbeen staring at Helena Marsh with far too much interest. At this point, the girl wasn’t even out of high school, andthis asswipe was looking like he’d fuck her over the table like a club whore. God help us all, but the girl was so beautiful that she attracted every eye in the place, even mine, when I didn’t have my shit locked down tight.

The problem was that she was off-limits. First and foremost, because she was only about sixteen and some change; second, she was Roscoe’s daughter … both added to a no-touch policy. The fucker didn’t even allow her to date.

“Don’t be such a killjoy, Maddox. The girl is fire! Man. Look at that ass. Those tits.” He was licking his lips like a perv by the time I yanked him to his feet and hauled his ass away from the bar.

“Get the fuck up?” Barely holding my temper,I pulled the prospect forward, my grip tight on his neck.It wasn’t difficult because I waslargerthan him by a fair margin in height and bulk.

If her father saw this guy staring at his daughter that way, he’d put a bullet between his eyes. Hell,I’m temptedto shoot him myself.

Helena was giggling with some woman at the bar; herschoolbooks opened in front of her as I dragged the prospect outside behind the clubhouse where I could beatthe shit out ofhim in private. Her eyes blinkedatme momentarily, andher mouth turned down as she took the prospect in my hands. For a second, I thought she was about to get off the stool, but thankfully, herbare feet curled over the rungs of the stool, purple toenail polish glinting in the light.

“She’s off-limits. You know that,” I growled. I wanted to give the kid the benefit of the doubt, but that ship had sailed.

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be such an asshole, Maddox. I’ll bet your dick is as hard as mine looking at that girl. It’ll be our word against hers. You hold her down. I’ll even let you have first go.”

He knewinstantlyhe’d made a big mistake as my eyes narrowed at him. The punch knocked him out, his head bouncing against the brick as he fell. It was all I could do not to keep going and pulverize the sick fuck, but I knew Roscoe would want to hear about this shit. Taking my phone from mypocket, I dialed Roscoe’s number and explained the basics of the conversation.

“Take him to the basement,” Roscoe said, just as I thought he would. “You can leave the piece of shit there.” He hesitated and said, “Here’s your chance to back out of this if you want. You can walk away, and we’ll pick up the little shit later.”

“No. I’m solid.”

Thiswas the first time that I would cross this particular line for the club and be directly involvedwith someone’s death. There was a pause on the line, and I could hear Roscoe thinking about it. I was privy tomanyof the Brotherhood’s dealings, but Roscoe had kept me in the grey.So far, I’d notbeen directly implicatedin any of the Brotherhood’s illegal activities, but I knew the MC had some strictly black book business.

The club scouted new members pretty hard, but I had also been testing the waters. If there was one thing that Ihad,it was my code. Luckily, the Brotherhood’s code was in line with mine. Women and children wereoff-limitsandprotected.

When I left thearmy,I returned to Arizona, bouncing from town to town, tryingto find a rhythm, but I was in abadplace. There were times when I wasn’t sure what I’d do. I was lost.I’d left the servicealone, butwhenI was out, I wasn’t sure why I left.My sense of selfwas tied upin a team and a purpose. Once Ileft,it seemed like I was missing that.

Meeting Roscoe had been a lucky break. After leaving the service, I’d been at loose ends, searching for something. Roscoe gave me a new team to fight for—the family I never had.

While some clubs I’d encountered might say they were about the ‘life’ or theteam,that wasn’t always the case. They meant they were about the high or chasing the high, whetherthat was drugs,booze, or pussy. A lot of clubs were a mess because they weren’t disciplined. The Brotherhood had plenty of fun, but we dealt with business first and partying after. The men weren’t welcome if they had problems keeping their business clean.

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