Page 64 of Biker's Enemy

I don’t know why he says all that. But I let him. And I admit to myself that it feels good, even if the idea of returning a man’s feelings scares the crap out of me. Tanner rolls off me, the happiest look on his face. My heart flutters again. Maybe I shouldn’t, but I feel proud that I can bring him this much pleasure.

That I can bring a smile to my cranky boss’s face.

That he can admit he cares about someone when he’s with me. He grunts and then pulls me in close to his chest. I almost want to run away, but he drags me closer and then he grabs my cheeks again. He’s obsessed with my admiration – having me look at him.

I don’t mind. He’s easy on the eyes, honestly.

“I don’t want to let you go,” he says. “I know I fucked up… But I care about you and I care about Avery. Don’t leave, Quin.”

I want to agree to stay with him, but how can I do that without Avery here? Tanner might have a different way of expressing his feelings, but my heart is absolutely broken without her here. I miss her. And what does he want from me without Avery?

What about a job? What about a life?

I don’t understand what Tanner wants from me.

Or if he hasn’t even thought of any of this because he’s just a horny biker…

“I don’t like that silence,” he says. “I want you here, Quin. I’d rather tie you up until you see it my way than beg.”

Thirty-Two

SOUTHPAW

Therapy and sobriety have brought the best out of me. Ever since the incident where Anna took off with the kids, I put every last ounce of effort I had into getting my shit together. Therapy until I couldn’t take it anymore. Quitting to avoid ever going back to therapy again. Avoiding every Little League baseball diamond within driving distance of our house. And hockey rink. And race track. And dog fighting ring.

It’s slow, but I’m making much better progress than before. Realizing how close I came to losing Anna changed me. The way I feel about her is so different from how I felt about other women because she makes me want to change. She holds me accountable. She scares the fuck out of me by making me imagine a world where I don’t get to hold her.

I know I have to stop. Avoid every poker table. Every dice game.

Instead of gambling, I play online chess. Destroying some idiot halfway across the world is the only high that comes close.

And then of course there’s Anna. And the kids. Who are much better and much more important than any high. I know I have a problem. I know I’m fucked in the head. But I love my family. I love them enough to try to change. Even if it means waking up at three in the morning with the itch to destroy everything… and instead, calling some guy on Chess.com a series of insults Anna would smack me for.

If club business weren’t so damn stressful, riding would be an even better distraction. I miss the freedom of the open road. Right now, we have the open road – but no freedom.

Anna and the kids are asleep upstairs so I can have this unofficial meeting in the garage with the boys. This place used to be a garage. It’s more like a war room now.

Anna says nothing, but I can tell our arsenal of weapons makes her deeply uncomfortable. She understands. She won’t leave. But I know Anna has her limits. If I want to protect my family and keep my wife happy – we need to end this quickly.

There’s a game on the garage television. I keep sports that I don’t feel the temptation to gamble on down here. In this case, cricket. I don’t give a shit how popular it is around the world… call me when a cricketer hits a grand slam or slides headfirst into home plate. The so-called sport is boring.

“What the fuck is this shit?” Owen asks, tipping back his third Voodoo Ranger. My brother Ethan sits next to him on his phone.

“It’s a sport for fags,” Ethan says without looking up. “That’s what it is.”

Unlike me, he doesn’t see any issues with his gambling. He’s probably deeply invested in March Madness. Or college games. Something I wish I could get my hands on. Instead, I drink. Can’t get too drunk or Anna will make me sleep on the couch again, so even with the whiskey, I need a steady hand. Not easy considering the club shit happening right now.

Hunter’s heavy footsteps come pounding down the stairs. Ryder behind him. That’s how they always are these days – one twin a few steps behind the other. They used to be about the same size, but Ryder clearly spent all his time in prison trading shit for ramen noodles and lifting weights. He has about thirty, forty pounds of muscle on his brother.

And finally, his hair is growing back. Doesn’t make sense to keep it longer than a buzz cut behind bars with the lice outbreaks and the bedbugs. It’s easier to tell them apart with Ryder’s hair coming in half-gray – like he’s seen some shit.

“What the fuck are you watching?” Hunter asks, scowling jealously at the beer before tipping a Mountain Dew down his throat.

“Doesn’t Mountain Dew have alcohol in it?” Ethan asks, still barely looking up from his phone.

“No, you fucking idiot,” Hunter says. “I’ve been drinking this shit since I was a baby.”

“Let’s talk business,” I interrupt before this turns into a fistfight. Tensions have been high as fuck around here after the discovery out in the desert. “We don’t have time to argue over liquor.”

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