Page 22 of Absolution

My patience breaks. The bureaucratic bullshit that has come out of this ordeal has given me a healthy reminder why walking the straight and narrow is so hard. My former way of life would have had Asher already in my custody by now with a few threats and an exchange of a wad of cash. Unfortunately, that’s no longer an option, even with Ratchet in town. The Heaven’s Rejects had decided to move away from their underbelly of the world dealings and walk the straight and narrow path for the first time in club history. I doubt even for the sake of an innocent boy with, no ties to their club, would make them stray from it. Not all good deeds are worth time in jail over.

“Are you telling me that after I go through all of this, the courts could decide against me on the basis that I don’t have a husband?”

“It has happened before,” she recalls. “With his age, and your intent on returning to California after the adoption goes through, the state is quite strict on the requirements. Legally, I cannot advise you to marry, but it would help your case.”

“I can’t believe this,” I growl into the receiver.

“I’m so sorry, Miss Delmont, but I really have to get to my meeting. Please call me as soon as you have made your payment to the clerk’s office, and I’ll get the ball rolling on my end.”

Before I can even respond, she hangs up the phone. My head hangs as I sob into my hands with the phone still pressed to my ear. I thought that getting fired was the biggest of my worries today, but that has been shoved into the meaningless bullshit pile in comparison to my caseworker’s revelation.

Marriage. An institution that I barely believe in, and in order to get my brother; they want me to find a man to check the box. This is so fucking unfair. Of all the things they could have asked of me, it had to be this. Something that would require me to sell my body and soul to the highest bidder to satisfy the government’s outdated ideas of how a family structure should be. The only gain would be my brother in return. It’s too much to ask, and makes me feel as if this entire thing was doomed from the start. Maybe this was all a farce of a fantasy, and I was the leading lady of the dramatic interpretation of how life fucks Ricca yet again.

Life has never been easy for me so why did I assume that handing over some cash would give me my brother. The outdated family values of the Midwest were going to fuck me over, and my only choice was to take the licks they give me and keep trying, until there was no other option left. I’ve sold myself to the devil far too many times in the past, to even remotely consider doing it again even if it was for a good cause.

My mind swirls and starts to pound with the beginnings of a headache. I lean my head against the warm leather of the steering wheel and close my eyes. Focusing on my breathing, I try to force my body to relax. I feel a shift to a more relaxed state after nearly thirty minutes of quiet. The headache still lingers, but relaxing has helped ease the sudden pains from tension and stress. Just as I start to lift my forehead from the steering wheel, a loud knock on the glass and the rattling of the handle startles me upright.

“What the fuck!” I scream out. My eyes wild from shock. They finally focus, and I find Ratchet glaring from outside of my door.

He raps his knuckles against the glass again, motioning with his hands for me to roll down the window. I hesitate momentarily, but decide that he’d just break it if I didn’t.

“It’s not safe to take a nap on the side of the road, Siren,” he coarsely declares. His eyes search my face, analyzing my every feature for injury. Whenever he’s around, I always feel like I am a slide underneath a microscope, like you see on television. It’s as if he is trying to look into my black soul and find something unexpectedly there.

His gaze makes me uneasy, and with my unease comes my mistimed attempt at humor to diffuse the tension and break the silence.

“I’ll nap where I want, Ratchet. Without your permission.”

I roll my eyes at his incorrect evaluation of the situation laid out in front of him, and he growls again.

“Don’t you roll your eyes at me, Siren. You know I don’t like that shit.”

I do it again just to spite him, before he reaches inside though the open window and pulls up the lock. He rips open the door. I try to scout away from his grasp, but I don’t make it in time. His large, calloused hands grasp me and begin to pull me out of the truck. I try to fight him, but I know it’ll only make what’s coming worse. When Ratchet wants something or someone, he doesn’t give up. Evident enough by the fact that he tracked me down to Kentucky. No additional proof required.

As rough as it might look to someone on the outside, he’s surprisingly way gentler than Big Joe was early this morning. My hips hit the edge of the bench seat of the truck, before he stops. He releases my arms and goes for my feet, pulling them to my left and out of the car. Ratchet watches me, looking for what is likely a sign of panic, before he reaches inside the truck and removes the keys from the ignition. He slides them into his back pocket, before returning his attention back on me.

“I’m tired of the cat and mouse game, Siren. It’s time we had a little talk.”

I cross my arms in front of my chest, putting a barrier between us. As much as I want to reach out and touch him, I can’t give into temptation. Not yet. Not when my association with a biker and his club, could affect my already slim chances of getting Asher.

“Not sure there’s much to talk about,” I respond sharply. “I left and you seem to be following me. That about sum it up?”

Ratchet hisses at the sting of my words. His hands jolt from his sides as his fingers wrap about my hips. He uses his strength to pull me all the way out of the truck to my feet. My chest crashes into him and my body instantly reacts to his closeness. The warmth of arousal begins to build at my core.

My eyes lift up to his and that fucking smirk forms on his face again.

“You didn’t just run, Siren. You left for a reason, and I want to know why.”

I try to cast my eyes downwards again, but his fingers pull my gaze back onto his face.

“I just left, okay. I needed to get away from the violence of the club,” I mutter.

“Bullshit. You have never been a good liar to begin with, but even that was pathetic. I want the truth. Try again.”

I try to shove away from him, but he grips me even tighter.

“Fine, you want the truth?” I yell at him. “I met someone else.”

“Strike two, Siren. No man with any claim to you would ever let you out of his sight. A lessoned I’ve recently learned myself.” he growls. “Last chance.”

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