Page 32 of Avenging Devil: Part 1

“No, Niran,” Mom almost shouts. “Please, can you keep her with you for a while? Maybe you can knock some sense into her?”

Me? I live on a fucking biker compound, hardly the place for my young sister. “Mom, I’m not set up to look after a kid.”

“She’s an adult, Niran. She just needs to learn some boundaries and a few of the facts of life. Please, just a few weeks.”

“I haven’t even a place of my own,” I admit. “I live over my job, Mom.” It’s the closest description I feel I can give her.

“Maybe that’s what she needs to see, Son. That life isn’t always handed to you on a silver platter. Niran, both Grover and I respect you. I know you and he didn’t always see eye to eye, but we were proud as fuck when you were a Marine, and how you’ve built a new life after losing your leg. You never came crawling back asking for help. We think you’ll be a good influence on her.”

I snort. Me, a good influence? I refrain from saying if she needs me to be that, she must really have gone off the rails.

Aware time’s ticking, I reassure her, “I better get going if I don’t want to miss her at the airport. I’ll get her to call you, okay?”

“Grover thinks it’s best if she stays away,” Mom states, and I can hear her voice shaking. “Grover, well, Grover and I, and her sisters, we need some space, and Cynthia needs to get her priorities in order.”

So this isn’t going to be a case of a quick hello/goodbye and me sending her back to Michigan, which doesn’t bode well for my future. But I’ve no time to waste, and no chance to protest being dragged into this shit.

It’s not until the call is ended that I realise I didn’t do the polite thing and ask about my other sisters. But hell, I’d left before they were born. All of them, even Cyn, are relatives on paper rather than in reality. My MC brothers are more my siblings then they’ll ever be.

Taking one of the club’s trucks, I realise I’ve got to put my foot down if I’m going to catch her. Half annoyed at the interruption to my life, and half intrigued at the out-of-the-blue request for help, I drive through the predawn quiet of San Diego and head for the airport. Annoyed at the extortionate short-term parking fee, I park the truck, then walk inside, immediately checking the information board. The flight from Detroit is on time and about to land.

As a Marine, my base had been Camp Pendleton. I’d come to prefer the climate of Southern California to that of Michigan, able to ride all year around, so even when I’d lost my leg and was medically retired, I’d found my place in San Diego and stayed. Home is where the heart is, as they say, and for me the heart went out of my hometown when my father had died. For a while I’d drifted, wanting something, not knowing what, but had no desire to return to my roots. The universe moves in strange ways, pointing me in the right decision and influencing the choices I’d made. It led me to where I needed to be. The Satan’s Devils are more than a club, they’re my family.

Blood might be thicker than water, but it’s engine oil that unites us more. I feel a pang of sympathy for the sister I barely know. Has she run in a fit of pique, or is there really nothing left for her at home? And last but not least, what the fuck did Grover say or do to her?

Not knowing whether I’m waiting to greet a girl barely out of her teens and with all the angst that age brings, or a young woman determined to find her own future, I wait where the passengers will exit the terminal, hoping like hell I recognise her. It’s been three years since I saw her last.

There she is.Tugging along a flight bag on wheels, her face set, her head tilted down as though she doesn’t want to attract attention, she’s following the other travellers and hasn’t yet glanced my way.She’s not expecting anyone to meet her.She can’t have guessed Mom would have contacted me.

She’s not grown taller, but then girls stop growing earlier, don’t they? They shoot up, towering over boys in their early teens, being fast overtaken later. She’s filled out though. Even wrapped in a thick fur coat, far too warm for our southern climate, there’s no mistaking she’s got a big chest on her. She sports long, sleek dark hair which had me fooled for a moment. I clench my teeth, realising she’s fallen into the trap of repressing her heritage. Black hair is beautiful, why cover it up?Because of the society we live in.Alternatively, it could be a disguise, but it’s not working well, as despite the length of time since I’ve seen her, I recognise her easily.

Still looking down, she moves to go around me when I step into her path.

“Cyn?”

She startles and looks up. A gleam appears in her eyes as she recognises me. “Niran!”

There are no hugs, no kisses, neither offered on my part nor initiated on hers. It makes me realise how little I know her, and that we’re half-brother and sister means nothing.

“Mom called me.” I explain my presence to her.

She grimaces. “I expect she told you everything.”

“No,” I contradict. “She told me fuckin’ nothing. Only that you’d taken off with some hare-brained scheme to come find me. How the fuck did you expect to do that?”

Shrugging, she snippily states, “Well, you’re here, aren’t you? Now can we get out of here?”

Give me patience.“Cyn, I’ve no house to take you to. We’re going to need to find a hotel for the night. We’ll find something and talk, then you’ll have to get a flight home tomorrow.” I’m tempted to book her one right now but decide to give her a chance to cool down and to talk to me as her big brother as that seems to be what she’s after.

“You’ve no home?”

“I live in one room, Cyn. That’s enough for what I need and want.” And it’s in a motorcycle club where I’ve no intention of taking her.

“I thought you were doing well for yourself.” I think I am. I’m living the life that I love and which suits me. Courtesy of my free accommodation, the money I earn from the club, and my military pension, I’ve amassed a respectable amount of savings, and I’ve nothing to be ashamed of. What more can a man ask for? But it’s not a life conducive to entertaining a sister. She’s regarding me carefully, then after a moment, sighs. “Oh well, a hotel will have to do for now. But I’m not going home, Niran. I’ll have to find somewhere to live.”

“San Diego is fuckin’ expensive,” I warn her. “You got a job lined up?”

Her eyes fill with horror, and she actually shudders. “A job?”

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