Page 1 of Saint

Prologue

Sometimes, life throws you a curve ball. Mostly with a curve ball there is some form of choice in how you deal with it. If you’re quick enough, you can catch it and roll with it and maybe even come out the other side unscathed. Also dependent on being quick – you can try to dodge it. Choose not to deal with it right now and hope it doesn’t come back harder and faster next week. Maybe someone else will catch this one or it will land and just roll away. Occasionally you can be really unlucky and get smacked in the head for not being quick enough. For the most part though, curve balls are…I dunno – doable??

Other times, life sends you a Mack truck, screaming in at a hundred kilometres an hour and trampling straight over the top of you. Not a lot you can do to avoid it and a lot of hoping and praying involved if you want to survive it.

The Mack truck is the hand I was dealt two years ago. No choice, no time to get out of the way and at the time it felt like it was apocalyptic. I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to make it out from under the rubble.

Life it seems had other ideas and here I am in a place I never knew existed, kneeling on the ground in the middle of the road looking right into the head lights of another Mack truck and unbeknown to me, there was another one right behind it!

Jade

It’s another beautiful, sunny morning in my newly adopted home town of Sapphire Lake. Late start, as seems to be customary around these parts, coffee at the cheery little coffee shop just opened in the centre of town while people watching from one of three tables on the side walk as I face time the kids back home.

The kids of course aren’t exactly little. We’re talking 23 and 20 here, but they will always be ‘the kids’ with all the connotations that come with that. I’m listening to my eldest tell tales of his adventures with the local senior sergeant while lamenting the fact that his V8 ute now sounds like an electric car – all in the name of keeping his licence. He’s swearing, I’m laughing and we’re enjoying the catch up. Maybe we’re enjoying it too much because as I look up and try to wipe the tears of laughter from my eyes I notice the two men at the table next to me raise their eyebrows in my direction as they enjoy their coffees. They both appear to be very tall (at least from where I sit), built like the proverbial brick shit house and to top it off, handsome as they come. I’m not sure if they’re smirking at me but I can’t help but notice the intense green eyes of the one on the left. This man is a knockout with long, thick wavy brown hair streaked here and there with grey, shaved at the sides and loosely braided over the top, two day’s growth neatly trimmed and his very green eyes appear to be laughing at me. I’m sure I’ve seen him somewhere around town before, he’s hard to miss. The guy on the right is massive. He’s inches taller than green eyes with a long greying beard and very little hair – maybe a number one all over – and piercing brown eyes. And I’m not sure how that chair is supporting him. They’re both wearing leather cuts emblazoned with Hell’s Keepers in red lettering, the name of the MC they’re members of. So far, none of them have given me any cause for alarm but it’s something that I store away for more thought later.

I look away quickly to salvage what is left of my dignity and go back to chatting. I try to keep it quiet but fail miserably and end up in exactly the same predicament a second time suffering under the very intense stare of a very handsome man. That’s my cue to leave so I drain the last of my coffee and walk away still chatting to Axel so I don’t have to offer any kind of explanation and suffer any further embarrassment. And as I walk away – with a little swing in my hips, I get the distinct feeling those green eyes are still watching. And if I’m being totally honest about it, I’m not entirely disappointed and maybe, secretly kind of pleased. It’s been two years since I felt the touch of a man and I missed it. Calloused hands on soft skin, warm breath on my neck, hands in my hair. This longing is not new to me but this feeling I’m having about tall dark and handsome over there, well that is a surprise and maybe cause for alarm and again, something else to be stored away for later.

I have my ear buds in and am enjoying the home grown music on my Spotify play list as I head home. Two long blocks down I make a left and head down the hill towards the lake another four blocks away. It’s a spectacular day with the sunlight dancing on the sapphire blue water of the lake in the distance and a slight breeze playing with the trees overhead. And then my world turns upside down – enter the Mack truck.

A small delivery truck is turning out of the street just in front of me but has failed to notice the young guy on a Harley in his path. He doesn’t even slow down and ploughs straight into the bike. The bike is pushed 50 metres down the road with the rider half hanging on, his leg appearing to be caught under the bike which is now on its side. The truck is forced off course, missing the other vehicles and pedestrians which thankfully are few today and smashes into a large oak tree on the other side of the road.

My heartbeat ramps up, my brain freezes and I lose focus almost blacking out. My feet thankfully have a mind of their own and make a beeline for the guy on the bike. I’m screaming at two elderly pedestrians to call triple zero but my brain can’t seem to process why they’re not following orders. After giving me several strange looks, they do however pull out a phone and start to dial. Hopefully they’re calling for help.

As I fall to my knees next to the injured rider, I see a pool of blood under his body. From what I can tell, it looks to be coming from the leg stuck under the bike and it occurs to me that he may have a severed artery in his leg. From here on in, thought disappears and instinct takes over. I’m not wearing jeans so have no belt. Instead I take off the light jumper I’m wearing and force it under his leg at the top of his thigh and tie the sleeves together as tight as I can, trying to stem the bleeding. The bike is too heavy for me to lift so I look around for help. Two young men are running towards me from the hardware store and between them, manage to lift the bike off the guy on the road and we manage to roll him gently onto his back. There’s nothing more to be done until help arrives so I sit there quietly holding his bloodied hand which has been torn to shreds from the slide and stroking his forehead which is also in a bad way. Actually, most of him is in a bad way. An impact and a slide like that does a lot of damage. He does not seem to be at all alert but only whimpers occasionally as I reassure him the ambos are on the way. All the while, my mind is drawn back to the events of two years ago…

A knock at the door at 3pm on a Sunday is unusual to say the least and as I get up off the couch and grumble my way to the front door, I’m silently praying that it’s not some idiot trying to sell me something. Disturbing my couch time can’t possibly end well for them. However as I open the door to two police officers, I realise it’s my day that may not end so well. I barely register their names or faces as they apologise, their faces downcast, as they try to explain that my husband has been in a motorcycle accident. What I didn’t hear as I tried to reach for my wallet and keys to rush to the hospital was that he had been killed in a motorcycle accident. “There’s no need to rush Mrs Black. You don’t need to identify him right now. Is there someone we can call for you?”

Eventually help arrives and I drag myself back to the present. It probably took all of three minutes but felt like an eternity. An eternity in hell. A hell I never thought I would have to visit again. But as my hand is pried from the injured man’s and I watch the paramedics assess him and move the rider to the trolley, I see the rise and fall of his chest and I know that even though his breathing is shallow, he’s still alive. It would seem that for the moment, I’ve managed to put the brakes on that Mack truck.

I remain where I am, not entirely present, until a face appears right in front of me. The owner of the face is wearing a uniform and appears vaguely familiar. He’s talking at me but I can’t hear him. Eventually he moves behind me, lifts me up and moves me off the road to a bench at the bus stop. He just sits beside me patting my shoulder and holding my hand till eventually I come back and I am looking into the concerned face of the local sheriff. “Are you alright miss? Do you need to go to hospital? You’ve had quite a shock.”

I wave off his questions and indicate that I just want to sit where I am for a few minutes. In front of me the accident site is being cordoned off and a few onlookers moved on. I register sirens in the background and another very loud sound. Bikes, loud and more than one and moving quickly but I can’t see any of these things. I’m trying just to focus on the voice next to me. The sheriff is offering me a ride home which I gratefully accept. It’s not far to walk but today, I’m not sure I can make it.

The car pulls up at the front of my small rented cabin which sits across from Lake Sapphire. I’m not sure how we got here. I don’t recall speaking my address. Either I pointed the way home or the town’s well-oiled rumour mill has already let the sheriff know where the Aussie lives. More likely the latter but right now I don’t care. The sheriff takes my keys from my hand and guides me inside sitting me on the couch and heading to my kitchen. I hear the kettle boiling and he’s offering to make me a coffee.

“Tea please. White with two…please.” I mumble.

He appears shortly with a cup of tea and sits opposite me and as he asks again if I’m ok and I re-live my personal hell for the second time today. I’ve no idea how much detail I give him but his face registers shock and distress before he moves beside me and again pats my shoulder and holds my hand.

“I’m so sorry you had to see that accident today Mrs Black. But I’ve got to say, it’s lucky for the rider that you did. That tourniquet you applied may have just saved his life and he was really clinging to the comfort you offered. He did not want to let go of your hand.”

“Will you be ok if I leave you now? I need to get back to supervise the accident scene and the clean-up.”

“I’ll be fine. Thank you for bringing me home.” I mutter. I don’t think I even managed to see him out before I pass out on the couch.

Dublin

Dublin stood at the door of the bar looking out over the sparkling lake and thinking he had the best workplace in the world. Seriously, what could be better than a bar that sat lakeside with its own jetty and his own apartment, complete with a view, upstairs? It may not be the fanciest bar in town or have the flashiest clientele but it was an easy place to be and had the best location on earth. And he’d seen plenty of this earth. In his opinion, this was the best place on it and he planned to live out the rest of his days right in this spot. Which is why he had taken the time to prospect for the Hell’s Keepers MC. They were the family he had never had and desperately wanted. As a patched member, he knew without a shadow of doubt that they had his back as much as he had theirs. They were loyal beyond anything he had ever known and didn’t care about his past.

As he sipped on his coffee, the unmistakeable sound of a Harley disturbed his reverie. He watched the rider dismount and saunter up the ramp to join him.

“Morning Dublin”

“Morning Saint…you’re up and about early for a good for nothing biker” he said with a grin on his face. “Aren’t you supposed to sleep until lunchtime?”

“Rough night. Spent the whole night at the hospital with Reign. Heading home now. Got any more of that coffee…and a shot?”

“Absolutely brother. Follow me inside. He’s gonna be okay though yeah? Need anything else?”

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