Page 12 of Motorycle Daddies

Life just doesn’t work that way. So, he remains grumpy to say the least, and not the man he used to be. But I still like him this way. He’s just an asshole sometimes, and a little distant.

Eventually, Lorenzo comes back, bringing someone with him who’s much younger than I would have expected for some high-ranking member of the Bratva.

He’s right—we have not met this man before. But he shouldn’t expect to get any introductions either. Cocky bastard.

“So, Enzo here tells me that you’re interested in the girls tonight. That maybe you start to see our side.” His accent is about as Russian as they can get.

“Well, I see you’re going to be around our territory a bit. It’s inevitable that we’re going to cross paths again, and I’m really not interested in a war. My thought is that we both have better things to do with our time. In that spirit, and having heard about this event, I thought it was a good way to call a truce while at the same time helping the club out. We can always use new club whores, if you know what I mean.” Grizzly smiles at the man.

A smile slowly comes across his face as well. Then, he reaches out his hand for us to shake. “I think that is a very smart attitude. I can even see us being friends one day if you keep this up. I do hope you like the selection. This is the most girls we’ve had in a while, and some very beautiful ones.”

I feel slimy just looking at this man.

“Hopefully we can look at everything that happened before as a misunderstanding.” I shake his hand firmly and make certain to look into his eyes. Do I detect a little bit of fear there? It’s something I’ll have to analyze with the Prez later.

Soon enough, the lights dim, and we make our drink orders. It’s time for the show to begin. The show I never wanted to watch.

6

MEREDITH

It feels like I’m floating.

In reality, I know I’m not. My brain is fried, and I have no idea where I am.

Memories tug at the edge of my mind, and that’s when I notice that my eyes are closed. My body is still, like I’m resting or sleeping in bed.

But I can’t seem to move or open my eyes. Instead, I let the memories tug me down. Hanging out with my friends, then going back to campus. Going into my dorm room to change clothes for a run.

Nothing out of the ordinary, so why do I feel like something is incredibly wrong? Suddenly, I remember. Someone was asking me for directions. Someone I thought was harmless. Someone visiting, or a new student.

Instead, I got a needle to the neck.

Was it meant to end my life? I don’t think people usually use needles to the neck to kill someone. At least not at first. So where have I found myself?

Eventually, I’m able to pry my eyes open. I’m in sort of a fetal position, and my body’s stiff. Plus, I’m afraid to move. I don’t know what was in that needle, and I don’t know who will notice me if I start acting like I’m awake. Maybe if I just lie here for a moment and silently look around with my eyes only, I’ll have more time to process this.

There’s a blanket on me. I can see it out of the corner of my eye, and I can feel its weight on me. But it’s scratchy. Cheap. No matter, it hides the movement of my hand as I slowly run it over whatever I’m lying on. It’s very small and springy.

Cot. It must be a cot. I listen for any sounds I recognize—people’s voices, water running, literally anything—but it seems to be silent other than a clock ticking on the wall. The time is hard to read from here, but I think it’s showing it to be around nine or ten. But is that at night or in the morning? Who the hell knows?

When I can’t think of any more reasons not to move, I do. I sit up and find I have a massive headache, though nothing else really hurts. Just stiff, like I thought. I must’ve been lying here for a long time.

I look around the room, and there are three other cots. But they’re all empty. I’m alone. I have none of my things. Not my cell phone or my smartwatch, not even the hair tie that was holding my hair back. Though, I’m still wearing the same clothes.

The walls and the door look like concrete and metal, plain but strong. I don’t think there’s any use in trying to get out of the door. I’d likely get myself in even more trouble that way, depending on who’s done this to me.

I try to think back to anything that could have gotten me into this mess, but I come up empty. Maybe I’ve been left alone because whoever took me is starting to realize I’m useless to them. I don’t have any kind of information and I certainly don’t have any money. Neither does anyone in my family. So, maybe they’ll let me go. It’s not like I remember any faces in detail.

The door opens, and I turn away just in case. My hair cascades over one side of my face.

“Oh, you’re awake. They’ll be happy about that.” The voice comes from a woman. Not one I recognize.

I dare to peek through my hair and I see a short woman wearing nondescript scrubs. A nurse, maybe.

“Could you possibly tell me who you are and where I am?”

“I’m sorry, girl, but I can’t. I’m here for one job—to make sure you’re okay to get ready. And to make sure you didn’t die. That’s it. Now, if you cooperate this whole thing will go a lot faster.”

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