Page 42 of Nightmare

Oh shit.

My eyes are burning.

“You big bad bikers are delivering Christmas presents to kids?”

My voice comes out strained.

Fury grins. “You’re sweet as pie, little lady. I think I might just keep you.”

“Enough,” Western orders. “Let’s do this.”

Fury gives me a look, and I flash him a smile, before happily following Western into the large building. When we enter, three women come over, big smiles on their faces. They have a pile of wrapped presents on their desks, and I see that this is some sort of office space, filled with about five or six people working on computers, and large cartons of boxes getting around. I don’t know what exactly they’re doing in here, but obviously they help with this gift-giving venture.

A beautiful blond woman approaches Western, a smile on her pretty face. “This round is ready to go. I’ve put a list with the addresses on top. We’ll have the next lot ready in a few weeks.”

Western nods, not saying a word, and the bikers move in, taking a few presents each before carrying them out. There is something so incredibly humbling about seeing a group of bikers carrying presents. It’s kind, what they’re doing, and it puts a different perspective on the way I see them. Maybe, if the world knew about this, they would choose to look at them differently, too.

I make a note to mention that when I write my story.

“This is really great, what you’re doing here,” I say to the woman as I pick up two presents.

She studies me, a smile still on her face. “I can’t say I’ve seen them come in with a girl before. Are you new to the club?”

I shake my head. “Oh, no, I’m just friends with Western.”

Her brows go up. “You’re friends with Western?”

I nod. “Yep.”

“You mean, he actually speaks to you?”

I laugh. “It took me a long time of constantly annoying him to get words out, and even now, they’re sparce.”

“Well, you must be pretty special, because he doesn’t talk to anyone.”

Flushing, I look over to the man who has certainly captured my thoughts, and watch as he picks up some presents, his eyes catching mine as he turns and makes his way back outside.

“Where do you get all these presents?” I ask, turning to face her once more.

“They’re donated. We have a few drop-off points and people buy the gifts and bring them to us. Then we wrap them, and the club comes and distributes them to the families. We do it every year, but this is the first year Western has run it. It’s usually Colt leading the pack.”

Colt isn’t here today, but it’s kind that he has always been the one to run this. Even kinder for Western to take over.

“Well, it’s a wonderful thing you’re doing,” I say to her. “I better take these presents out.”

I walk out with the presents and put them in a bag that Western is securing to the back of his bike. Watching with appreciation, I turn my attention to the other bikers in the group. There are a lot of them, and I don’t even know their names. Making the decision to introduce myself, I turn and walk over to a man who is talking to Fury. I noticed him the other night having a few conversations with Western, and I took note that his jacket states that he is Road Captain.

“Hi,” I say, approaching them. “I’m Bonnie.”

Fury looks to me, that signature grin of his, spreading over his face. “I know, darlin’.”

Rolling my eyes, I say, “I was talking to your friend. You can’t be the only person I know in this club.”

Studying me, the man beside him gives me a look that is a little harder than the warm welcoming one Fury gave me. He is slightly older than Fury, with hazel eyes, short, cropped hair, a jawline to die for, and a face that is both terrifying and spectacular. Boasting a clean-shaven face, it doesn’t take away from the fact that he looks equally as rough as the rest of them.

“This is Vince, but you can call him Venom. He’s our Road Captain and a jackass. You don’t want to spend too much time with him,” Fury explains.

“Venom,” I say, nodding my head. “That’s cool.”

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