Page 101 of Dirty Dylan: Dirty Dusters

“I’d like that.”

“Sure thing. You riding bitch?”

I roll my eyes exaggeratedly while shaking my head.

“There is not a chance I will ever ride bitch. My daddy’s called Lucifer. He’s the prez of an MC, don’t you know? Spare hog?”

“There’s a Sportster in the garage. You remember how to ride?”

“Isn’t there an old saying? You never forget how to ride a bike.”

He chuckles. “We leave in ten minutes.”

“I hear you, VP.” I salute my brother as I walk past to go change, and he shakes his head and laughs heartily in response.

CHAPTERFORTY-THREE

JESSIE

Jessie’s Family Home, Colton, Nevada

I’veno idea how long it’s been since I last rode a hog. Several years, I reckon. The roar when the engine sparks into life mixed with the smell of fuel and oil gives me a high I didn’t even realize I was missing. And the vibrating hum from those straight metal pipes?

Sweet hog music to my biker ears.

Maybe I shouldn’t have been so quick to turn my back on the life I was born into because, right now my blood is pounding in my veins. For the first time in weeks, I feel alive. I feel energized. Like my biker soul is somehow being soothed just by being sat astride this powerful, gleaming machine.

Tadgh grins at me and nods his head slowly as I sit wrapped head to toe in leather. He knows what I’m feeling. I’m wearing it right across my face. He’s probably been waiting patiently for this moment for years. All of my family have. I’ve never denied what I was. I just never felt the need to embrace it. No one pushed me away. No one pulled me back either.

Everything had to be done in my own sweet time.

I walked away from the life to do my own thing. And now? Well, maybe now I’m finally letting those heavily inked arms of the one percent badge welcome me back home.

With the wind in my hair, we ride through the small town we grew up in.

Nothing’s changed in Colton. Nothing ever does. There’s still just the same little row of shops, including a filling station, a post office, and a diner.

Around town, it’s the usual scene. It’s likeGroundhog Day. Teenagers hanging around the front of the diner. The boy pushing the girl he likes, trying to pretend he doesn’t before they both sneak around back to make out. Old folks hanging around the church, leaning on their walking sticks and frames as they compare what’s going to be inscribed on their headstones when their time finally comes to return home to The Lord.

I take in the familiar steeple that, as a little girl, I was sure reached all the way to heaven. You just had to climb right on up to find St. Peter waiting for you at the top. I’ve always loved the town church. The calm it affords. The peace. It feels like The Almighty is sitting right beside you.

And who knows? Maybe he is.

Father Murphy controls his flock from behind the raised pew inside those freshly painted walls, handing out penances as he sees fit. My daddy attends every Sunday to take the weighted one for his family’s sins on his broad shoulders.

The only other building of any significance is the town school located right beside the church. Both Little Bee and Conor attended. Tadgh insisted he wanted to go to school in Vegas, where his friends were all headed. So, it meant I got to school in the city too.

I think I would have enjoyed my childhood years way more if I’d attended the town school here in Colton. But schooling in Vegas and going through the experiences I did is what made me, in part at least, the strong individual I am today.

I guess you can’t have it both ways.

My eyes drift to the line of hogs parked up outside the diner. Colton has always been a biker town for as far back as I can remember. Home to the Undertakers MC and the Sons of Satan MC. My daddy, prez of the Sons. Reaper, prez of the Undertakers. Or at least, Reaper was. He was shot in the head last year by The Exterminator. Rumor has it the sniper doesn’t tolerate trafficking or child abuse of any kind. Rumor also has it Reaper was heavily involved in both. That he had a fucked-up taste for underage, innocent flesh.

Like oil and water, they don’t mix.

Click. Boom.

My daddy is now acting prez over both clubs. That may change in the future, but that’s just the way it is for now.

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