Page 4 of Zeke

I begin to pace, thinking about how tense things have been between Savage and Julia. He’d found out that I’d been responsible for the death of their brother before he’d ever tracked me here, but Julia didn’t know. She joined up with me because I’m the first female Club President, but neither of us knew about that morbid connection.

I hate that things are hard between them. They’re two thirds of a set of triplets, like me and my brothers. Except I killed their third. I can’t even imagine what I’d do if someone killed one of my brothers and then married the other. I don’t think that person would make it out of a room with me alive, my brothers be damned.

But it doesn’t make it any easier when Julia gets testy and decides to start drama with me, knowing that I won’t retaliate because of Savage, and, if I’m honest, because I feel like I owe her a bit.

I’m pacing the yard, mumbling to myself, trying to come up with reasons to kill her. To kick her out. To let her stay and keep being a bitch to me. And then, out of nowhere, Zeke comes out of the house with a pep in his step, and, noticing me, comes over, much to my dismay.

“Eden?” he says, and I look up at him. It’s only then that I feel the coolness of the breeze grazing over the tears I didn’t know were there.

“Oh,” I say, trying to play it off. “Hey. Where are you headed?”

He looks at his bike, but then sighs and looks back at me. “Nowhere,” he lies, and I cross my arms to show him I know. He shrugs, but continues. “What about you? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” I say, lying back to him. “I’m just… working on some details for a drop off next week and wanted some fresh air.”

“Uh huh,” he says, mirroring my posture and expression. “Look, you know I know when you’re upset. Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong? We work better together and you know it.”

I scowl at him, wishing he would go away and leave me in peace—or at least leave me to my turmoil, as the case may be. His expression is firm but caring, and I can see a hint of pain behind it.

He looks at his bike again, and that’s when I realize he has somewhere he’d rather be.

“Well, don’t let me keep you,” I spit at him before turning to walk away. He grabs for me, but I put my arms up to yank them from his failed grip.

“Eden, wait,” he says, trying to catch up to me, but I’m a bat out of hell heading toward my bike.

I ignore him and throw my leg over the metal beast, feeling the firm seat beneath me. The one thing I’ve always been able to rely on. My bike.

My last one was destroyed when Torque blew up Marty’s place and kidnapped Eli. It was run over by an eighteen-wheeler being driven by a meth-addled nut job by the name of Krickett, who has since been dispatched.

So this is a new one, and she is shiny and fresh. I crank the engine and feel it begin to rumble. It’s an empowering feeling, to know the power the machine has and to be in control of it. To bend it to your own will.

It’s comfort to have control, at least over this one thing, even when everything else feels like it’s falling apart.

“Eden!” Zeke calls out to me, stepping in front of my bike.

“Move,” I tell him, my voice muffled by my helmet.

“Not ’til you tell me where you’re going,” he counters, standing firm.

But it’s a wide driveway, and I simply go around him as he reaches for me but doesn’t touch. He knows that if he tried to, he could knock me off balance and hurt me, and he would never.

I know it’s stupid. With everything so volatile, I shouldn’t be going out on my own. Not as the president of the La Grange chapter of the Ruthless Kings. Simply having that title makes me a target for every son-of-a-bitch who doesn’t think women should be in clubs at all, let alone running them.

My cut is open and it whips around in the wind as I speed up, getting close to a hundred miles an hour on the freeway. Now I’m not only out on my own, but I’m drawing a lot of unnecessary attention to myself.

A bit of common sense takes over, and I pull off at the next exit, where there are some winding roads that I like to practice sharp turns on. It’s good to keep my skills honed. I never know when I might have to outrun someone, and speed can only do so much.

I pull onto a stretch that looks like a sidewinder, with lots of back and forth around the trees in the middle. There’s also gravel on the edges of the road, so one wrong move can be trouble.

I stop my bike at the head of the snake, so to speak, and rev my engine. I take a deep, relieving breath as the sensation and sound bring over me a sense of calm. I am in charge here. I’m in charge back at home, too, with my club, with my family. But out here, it’s just me, my bike, and the road.

And I’m the one calling the shots.

I accelerate forward, taking the first turn a little bit carefully to get my bearings and a feel for the grade of the curve before speeding up for the second. My wheels just barely miss the gravel, so I take the next one a bit tighter, and I feel a rush as I whip the bike around, leaning so far over that I could touch the road.

I let out a laugh that’s so unlike me that it takes me by surprise. It’s a sound of freedom and release. Of someone who has found a source of joy and need to celebrate it vocally.

Which, I guess, is true.

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