Page 62 of Lost Soul

“I noticed,” he said, looking me over like a predator sizing up its prey, his eyes creating a heat in their trail that forces me to squeeze my thighs together.

No Maddy not here, not today.

“What will everyone think?” I whisper glancing around us at all the people filling up the yard.

“I don’t give a fuck what they think. I told you I wanted you close and that’s exactly where you’ll be.” His hand wraps around my waist and with a not so gentle tug, he forces me closer. I give in, placing my hand on his shoulder to steady myself, then hitching my leg over the seat. My thighs press against the outside of his, and I fumble behind me trying to locate the bar to hold. Jessie reaches his arms right back around me, taking my wrists, and pulling them forward. He makes sure my hands slide over the warm leather of his cut before he settles them on his chest.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be a real slow ride. I promise to take you on a proper one next time.” He looks over his shoulder at me and my chest hums at the promise of a next time. I smile, just before splinters dig into my heart and I remember him asking me to take a ride with him a few weeks ago. Back then I never imagined that the first ride we took together would be following the hearse that carried my best friend.

My smile fades when I focus forward. Beautiful white lilies surround the shiny black casket, and I let my eyes cry out. To know that no amount of tears I cry will ever bring her back is suffocating, and I have to keep reminding myself to breathe. Jessie’s fingers loop through mine and squeeze my hand tight against his chest, and it’s just enough to ground me again.

Prez appears from the crowd behind us and gets on his bike, starting his engine and causing a ripple of roars as everyone behind us follows his lead. Jessie releases my hand and starts his bike, the sound rumbles right through my body. I grip him a little tighter when all the noise becomes overwhelming. The hearse begins to creep forward, and we move behind it, taking the ride slowly just as Jessie promised. We follow Hayley along the windy mountain roads, through town, and all the way to the cemetery.

I manage to hold myself together as my friend is sunk lower into the ground, I fight against the sobs that ache the back of my throat, but fail to withhold the tears that fill my eyes and stream down my cheek. Jessie squeezes my hand like he can sense I need him, he hasn’t let it go since we got off his bike, and it gives me a small comfort to think that maybe he might need me too.

We walk away, leaving Hayley in the grave she shares with her mama, I hope that both of them are at peace now, together. Safe, and free from a world that can be so cruel. Jessie leads me to where the bikes are lining both sides of the long, narrow cemetery road. Then straddling his, he reaches back to help me on behind him. This time I don’t wait for him to tell me to hold him. I wrap my arms around him, resting my cheek on his back, and I don’t let my grip loosen the whole way back to the club.

I expect him to drop me off at his cabin when we arrive back at the compound. But instead, he parks up and leads me inside the club, through the foyer, and into the large bar room. His palms press into my ass keeping me walking forward, and it sends tiny electric sparks all the way up to my neck. The room has transformed since we left just over an hour ago. A huge table now stretches along the back wall of the room that’s crammed with food, and the large empty space soon becomes crowded, making the place look so much smaller.

Jessie places a drink in my hand, I have no idea what it is, but it looks like he’s drinking the same. I take a sip, and it stings at my tongue and ignites my throat at the same time. But not wanting to be rude. I finish it anyway.

I feel a chill when music starts to play from the speakers set up on the stage, and I realize what’s playing.

“Never saw you guys as Mac fans,” I lean in and speak to Jessie over the noise. Fleetwood Mac are the only thing I have in common with my mom. When I was younger and she was home, we used to dance together in the kitchen to their album. Now, they remind me of Hayley. She was always telling me how lame they were, and that I needed to pull myself into the 21st century.

“Carly’s idea, we found Hayley’s iPod in her jeep when we recovered it from the gas station, figured she should have her own music played at her party. Carly's always coming up with thoughtful shit like that.” He shrugs with a half-smile, then tips his empty glass up at the woman behind the bar. Say you Love me continues to fill the room full of bikers, and my eyes prickle with tears while my heart bursts open. Seems Hayley didn’t hate my music after all, it was typical of her stubbornness, and if it’s even possible it makes me miss her even more.

People spend all afternoon offering their condolences to Jessie and Hayley’s dad. Every time I try to move away and give Jessie some space, he tugs me right back. He’s taking this protection thing far too seriously, he told me himself no one here would hurt me, and now that we’re back on the compound I know I’m safe. A guy I don’t recognize pushes through all the people to get to Jessie, wrapping him in his arms and squeezing him so tight I fear a vein might pop out of his neck.

“You good, man?” he checks, his hard face baring something that resembles concern.

“No...” Jessie answers honestly, pulling away first. “This is Maddy,” he introduces me, and the guy tips his head at me the same way all the guys around here do. “Maddy, this is Brax.”

I look Brax over, he’s attractive in a totally different way to Jessie, a rough kind of handsome with short, brown hair, and dark eyes that seem suspicious of everything. I don’t know if the slit that runs through his eyebrow is a scar or if he shaves it in, but it adds to the harshness of his face. Hell, just looking at him feels dangerous.

“Pleased to meet you, Brax, where you from?” I’ve watched people talk to Jessie all afternoon, most of them wear a patch on their cut with the state of their Charter. Brax doesn’t have one, and it makes me curious.

He smiles at Jessie before he answers. “Anywhere I wanna be, darlin’… I’m nomad.”

Jessie helps me out when he notices my confusion.

“A nomad’s a member of the club but doesn’t belong to a Charter, they travel around, mostly go where they're needed,” Jessie explains.

“And it looks like you guys could use me around here,” Brax says turning the conversation serious.

“Hell yeah. You serious?” Jessie’s eyes light up. “Speak to Prez, man. You know you’re always welcome.”

“I just might,” Brax says tapping Jessie hard on the back then moving on to talk to Skid.

“Seems a nice guy,” I say to Jessie when Brax is out of earshot.

“He’s a good guy, would be handy to have around, but I wouldn’t use the word nice to describe him.” Jessie smirks at what has to be a private joke as we watch Brax talking with the guys. He seems to blend right in. The idea of someone choosing to be part of a club but not staying among friends seems odd to me, but then, a lot of things around here don’t make sense.

“You seem to know him well.”

“He prospected at my pa’s old Charter, I’ve known him since I was a kid. We did some training with Vex together a few years ago after Mary-Ann died. He stuck around while we needed extra protection for the women and kids.”

“Kids lived here?” I ask, not meaning to sound quite so mortified.

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