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  Old Man’s Ride

  Dust Bowl Devils MC

  Copyright 2014 Britten Thorne

  Amazon Edition

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, places, events, or locales, is purely coincidental.

  Warning: contains adult content

  I could smell a confrontation coming from miles away. It was a survival skill I’d had to learn growing up amongst a gang of bastards and outlaws. Sure, they called themselves a “club” instead of a gang, but I knew better.

  I knew I was in for some sort of argument the minute Bill walked through the front doors. He was the president of the Dust Bowl Devils, and the owner of the diner where I worked. I’d continued wiping down the counter while he glared at me, thinking about who-knew-what. More bullshit about “club dues.” As if I want to be in any club with him.

  He said nothing, though. He simply grabbed my mother from where she waited for food by the kitchen window and dragged her towards the back rooms. “Cover my tables!” she called as they disappeared through the swinging doors.

  Great. At least it wasn’t busy. My own section of the tiny roadside diner only had two people seated in a booth and one at the counter, and my mother’s only had two more occupied booths. Still, it was the principal of the thing. It was bad enough that Mom would enthusiastically fuck any biker that crooked a finger, but did she have to do it on the clock? At least I can’t hear them when they’re in the back room, I thought with a shudder, remembering the last time Bill had visited us in our apartment.

  My mother and I had been watching television together - some silly reality show about some rich family far away in New York City - when Bill had burst through the front door like a fireman evacuating a building.

  “Veronica!” he’d roared. My mother jumped to her feet.

  “Bill!” she exclaimed. “How’d you get the key?”

  He didn’t even bother answering. He simply grabbed her wrist, dragged her into the bedroom. Mom didn’t argue at all - in fact, she flashed me a grin before he slammed the door. I supposed Bill was handsome enough. He had a full head of black hair that he probably dyed. He kept himself clean-shaven, showing off a strong, square jaw. And he was in good shape, with chiseled, muscular arms, despite the beginnings of a beer belly. If I was being honest, I could admit he was attractive, when he wasn’t looking smugly satisfied with himself. Unfortunately, he almost always wore that face.

  I couldn’t tell if they were fucking for fighting. Loud crashes came from the bedroom - probably knocking over her jewelry box as he slammed her against her dresser. Only her wails of pleasure stopped me from calling for help; they entwined with his own grunts as they slammed into another piece of furniture, rutting like animals.

  My own thighs trembled at the memory. The sounds had seemed to go on for ages, and I could just imagine what was going on the bedroom. I sat there imagining what it would feel like, to be fucked like that. I’d had a couple boyfriends when I was a teenager. The boys were nicer back then, but they were just boys. Now I was nineteen - the boys had gotten meaner as they’d gotten older, and I’d gotten choosier. Much choosier.

  It was probably why Bill had glared at me when he arrived at the diner. I was in for that conversation again. I shook my head and focused on my job while they undoubtedly left a tornado of a mess in the back. I’m not cleaning up back there. Not again. Our customers didn’t need much, though - not enough to keep me busy and distracted. Sodas, waters, coffees, pastries - the usual late night fare. The lone man at the counter was probably a trucker. The couple in my booth were just having a post-drunk snack. Nothing remarkable at all. Thanks goodness. Unremarkable was good. When more than one member of club showed up, things could get rowdy.

  It seemed like a lot of long and quiet hours passed before Bill and my mother reappeared from the back room, though it was probably more like thirty minutes. Mom ducked into the bathroom next to the kitchen door. Despite their trounce amongst the dry goods, she still looked lovely. She had me young, so she was still fairly young herself. We were near mirror images, with softly curly light brown hair and bright hazel eyes, though her face was round, warm and soft, where mine was more severe. Maybe because I frowned too much. I didn’t inherit her massive, glorious tits, either. Mine were much more modest in size. It took a little padding and luck if I wanted to create a little cleavage. At least they won’t sag when I get old.

  Bill took a seat at the counter.

  “Coffee?” I asked, and he nodded.

  My nerves tingled as I turned away and poured a mug. I could smell the confrontation on the air, and I knew I wasn’t going to like it.

  “It’s time to talk again,” Bill said.

  I didn’t turn; I played dumb. “About what?”

  “Your membership. Or more specifically, lack of.”

  “I don’t want to join your club, Bill.” I finally faced him, hot mug of coffee in a shaky hand. “I’ve told you that. I’m only sticking around for my mom.”

  He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. We’ve been over this. You’re receiving benefits from being in the club’s circle, correct?”

  “What? No! I’m working a job and I’m paying rent. What the hell are you talking about?”

  He spoke slowly, as if I’d been hit on the head. “Your proximity to us keeps you safe. I own this place - your job could go to someone else. Someone more grateful. You know your options, Lily. You’re nineteen, now, which means I’ve given you a year longer than I give most of the girls.” I knew my options, all right. Get married or get on my back. My self-righteous side just wouldn’t let me. The fact that I did want to let him or one of his rough and dirty friends fuck me only made me more furious.

  I thought again of that night he’d come to our apartment, when I’d listened to him screw my mother in the next room. I had a finger in my mouth and a hand down my pants the whole time. Every time he said “Yeah, baby,” or grunted in pleasure, I sucked my finger harder. Every time my mother wailed or yelped, I imagined his big meaty hands on my pussy, and I’d rubbed my clit until I was slick and hot and throbbing. I’d come hard, panting like a train.

  Then, angry at myself, I’d hurled my glass at their door.

  They didn’t slow for a second.

  I didn’t want to be turned on by him, or by any biker at all. Not when they told me what I had to do. I certainly hadn’t inherited that stubborn streak my mother.

  “If I keep saying no? What are you gonna do? This isn’t the wild west, you can’t run me out of town.”

  “Oh?” Bill raised an eyebrow. “Well, I suppose I could fire you, firstly. When anyone else calls here asking for a reference? I’ll tell them you’re a liar and you never worked here at all. Your landlord? He wears the colors.” He snorted. “Hell, half the cops in town are on our payroll. So tell me how difficult it would be to ‘run you out of town.’”

  I wanted to take the coffee mug and smash it across the smug look on his face.

  “So, I say again.” He stood and towered over me, crowding me despite the counter between us. “Get married, or get on your back. Gunner is willing to take you on if you choose the former.”

  I snorted. “He’s willing to take me on. How romantic.”

  Bill smirked. “Much as I’d like to see him slap that sass out of you, I’m hoping you pick option number two.” His eyes settled on my chest. “It’s why I’ve been patient for as long as I have.”

  I felt like my eyes would pop from my skull. “But you�
�re with my mother!”

  He grimaced. “I’m not “with” her, we’re just fucking” His eyes traveled up and down my body, and I shivered. Whatever he thought of me, he kept the comments to himself. “You gonna give me that coffee?”

  “You’re lucky I don’t throw it at you,” I said, slamming it down. The hot liquid splashed over my hand, and I cursed.

  Quick as a flash, he grabbed my wrist and yanked me into the counter, knocking the wind out of me. Deliberately glaring into my eyes, he sucked the coffee from my fingers, one at a time. The quick, little flicks of his tongue sent tingles between my legs. I held my breath. He wasn’t hurting me, but I may as well have been shackled. “You’d have a good time, honey,” he said, “Don’t make me give you the boot out of here.”

  He was back in his seat, happily sipping his coffee and tapping on his phone and totally ignoring me when I remembered to breathe again.

  ---

  The harrowing evening didn’t end there. “Gunner” showed up just as I was closing up shop. His real name was Sam Green. He was tall, lean, and handsome, but goddamn if he wasn’t bossy. I could never marry him. If I told him that Mars was inhabited, he’d believe it. I’d kill him for his stupidity if he didn’t kill me for my “sass” first.

  “Lily,” he called through the locked doors.

  I flipped him the bird. “Lily!” my mother exclaimed, rushing to let him in, “Don’t do that! What’s wrong with you?”

  I rolled my eyes. Sam repeated her question as he walked in without so much as a “thanks” to my mom. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He stepped up to me, invading my space as he glared down with his icy blue eyes.

  My heart stuttered, then raced. He smelled like leather and motor oil. I stood with my mop between us, trying to create a little more room between our bodies. “I was just joking, Sam,” I said.

  “Real fucking funny. Did you talk to Bill?”

  “Yes.”

  “And?” I didn’t want to talk. I wanted to run my hands all over those bulging biceps. Curse you, wretched body. He’s too dumb and he’s way too rude. You can’t have him!

  “And as much as your proposal swept me off my feet, I’m afraid I must decline.”

  He glared at his shoes, then looked back up at me with fire in his eyes. “Dammit, Lily. Fine. Get kicked the fuck out of town. I only offered because some of the guys for some insane reason respect you.”

  “And you thought by marrying me, you’d collect some of that for yourself.”

  He grabbed my shoulders. “They do fucking respect me, you bitch.” His fingers dug into my flesh, bruising it.

  I grit my teeth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “What the fuck’s your problem? I’m not good enough for you?”

  Wow, he got something right. “Please let me go, Sam.”

  He spat. The wad of saliva hit me on my cheek, hot as a brand. I squeezed my eyes shut, but he grabbed my chin and shouted, “Look at me!”

  “Gunner, please!” my mom called. “Let her go. She’s a good girl. She’s just got a big mouth. Don’t hurt her.”

  Instead, he kissed me. His lips crashed into mine, crushing them, as his fingers dug into my jaw, holding my head where he wanted it. His tongue thrust inside my mouth, and with it, a hot and fast whirlwind of fear and desire stormed through my body. My knees shook, and I leaned on my mop to steady myself. What the fuck, Lily. You don’t even like him. I don’t know what it was that turned me on like that - the humiliation, the domination - but I couldn’t deny my reaction. I wanted this. Just not with him. Not with any of them.

  I whined and tried to twist my face away. He finally released me with an angry grunt. “You had your chance, Lily,” he said, backing towards the door. “Don’t say no one tried to help you.”

  He turned and left. I watched his colors disappear through the doors and out into the night - the Dust Bowl Devils patch, the club’s design with the cloud around the horned devilish skull, the scythe behind it.

  “You didn’t have to be so rude,” Mom said. She wiped her eyes. “He’s usually a good guy. That could have been a nice setup for you.”

  I laughed, incredulous. “You think I should be with him? After seeing that, you still think I should marry that guy?”

  “Yes. Well, maybe not. But you shouldn’t have provoked him like that.”

  “You shouldn’t have gotten us mixed up with these guys in the first place!”

  She wiped her eyes again. “Maybe you should just go,” she said. “If this life is so unbearable for you. So beneath you.”

  “Mom…”

  “No. I know you’re only sticking around for my sake. I don’t need it. I’m fine.” She took off her apron and headed back to the kitchen. “I’ll be fine. I have some money saved up. You should take it and go.”

  I held my tongue. I couldn’t tell if she was serious or not; she’d told me to leave before, then begged me not to the next day. I knew she’d be okay. For all her fucking around and her dumb floozy act, she was a smart and tough woman. I don’t know why she hid it. But she could take care of herself.

  She was wrong that I was only staying for her sake, though. The other problem was, I simply didn’t know what else to do. She was my only family; my father had disappeared. We two were all we had.

  ---

  I expected the fireworks immediately. It took a long time for me to fall asleep - I was just waiting for Bill to burst through the door and bodily haul me out of town. I was on edge at work all morning, just waiting for him or for Sam to burst in and cause another scene.

  It was a busy Saturday morning, and I was just delivering eggs and sausage to an impatient trucker at the counter when my mother grabbed my elbow.

  “You have to do one of my tables for me,” she hissed.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Nomad. I can’t. I just can’t.”

  “What? Why?” Nomad - or Wilhelm Green - was the old president of the Dust Bowl Devils. He’d been voted out when the club decided to go in a different direction, but was still highly respected. I only remembered him from when I was very young - he tended to travel a lot, recruiting a little, visiting different chapters of the club in other states, even starting up a few new ones.

  “I’m embarrassed,” Mom said, blushing. “I threw myself at him once. Back when you were in middle school. He turned me down and I never got over it.”

  “Mom, that’s ridiculous. Besides, wasn’t he married?”

  “No, not at that point. She was dead already.”

  I shook my head at her. “So maybe he was in mourning. Take care of your table, Mom, seriously.”

  “I’ll owe you one. I’ll give you one of my shifts. Or I’ll take one of yours. Whatever you want.”

  I sighed. “Take the counter,” I said, “Which table is he?”

  “Eight. Thanks, honey!”

  I muttered to myself as I approached the table, annoyed that I’d caved, irritated that I was so annoyed over something so dumb. “What can I get you?” I asked, staring down at my order slip.

  A gruff, low voice answered. “Coffee, black. Steak and eggs special. You’re Veronica’s daughter.”

  I finally looked up. My breath caught - a pair of light green eyes locked on mine. Wilhelm Green was supposed to be too old to take a young girl’s breath away like that. But he was definitely not just “some old guy.” His hair was white, but fully covered his head. His bared arms were thickly muscled; softer with age than a younger man’s, but still big, still tough. No one would mistake him for weak. His face was hard, deeply lined, but didn’t sag. He was truly the picture of a tough old brawler, and his age only made him look distinguished and wise.

  As his brows furrowed, he also looked like someone who would tolerate no shit. None at all. “You gonna answer that, girly?”

  “Yes. Sorry. I’m Veronica’s daughter. Lily.”

  “Shame,” he said. “I told her to get the hell out of this town. Raising a
young daughter with these brutes is a shit thing to do.”

  “Oh. Well. We’re all right.”

  “Sure. My order?”

  “Yes, be right up!” Heart pounding in my ears, I scampered off to deliver the ticket to the kitchen. Why am I reacting like this? He’s just another biker. He’d even been wearing the colors, I’d realized, though I’d only seen the front of his jacket. Get it together. It must have been nerves - I was still waiting for the shoe to drop after the incident with Sam the night before.

  And boy did it drop. The breakfast rush was over, and the diner nearly empty when Bill finally showed his face. He didn’t disappear into the back with my mother this time. He grabbed me by the wrist instead and tried to drag me behind him towards the back door.

  “No,” I said, pulling back. It was like trying to stop a bull. “No! Bill, cut it out!”

  He stopped and turned on me. “You turned down Sam’s proposal. And you haven’t left. So that leaves one option for you, sweetheart.”

  “I’m not going to fuck you, Bill, Jesus.” I rubbed my arm where he’d grabbed me. More bruises. Lovely.

  “Then you’ve gotta go. To start, you’re fired. Do you want to do the rest of this the easy way or the hard way? The easy way means no one gets evicted. Your mom gets to keep the apartment.”

  I looked between him and my mother, wiping down one of the tables. She refused to meet my eye. So be it. “Fine,” I sighed, “I’ll just go.” I threw my apron to the ground. “I don’t know where I’ll go, but I’ll pack my things and be on a bus by tonight.” I couldn’t believe my mother still wasn’t saying anything. She wanted to be on Bill’s good side, I knew - she secretly hoped he’d make her his old lady someday. I knew that wasn’t going to happen, but that was her thinking. I couldn’t fault her. She’d been in this life for too long to make a big change and move away. She’d be just as lost as I felt.

  Understanding didn’t mean it didn’t hurt, though. I squeezed my eyes against the rising tears as I rushed for the door. Don’t cry in front of them. Just make it outside.