Service and Sacrifice Read online

  He smiled, but it was somehow cautious, as if she were treading along the edges of something that wasn’t her business. “Yeah, something like that. What do you know about a motorcycle club?”

  She shook her head with a laugh. “Just what I’ve watched on TV.”

  “So, not much,” he teased with a grin as he sat back down, closer to her than before by inches. She watched the muscles in his arms and back play under the skin, mesmerized at the movement underneath the colorful pictures. After a few moments, he asked, “You ever ridden?”

  “What?” She blinked and shook her head. “Uh, no. No.”

  “Lemme know if you wanna change that status.” For a moment, she fixated on the social media status she’d impulsively changed a couple of days ago, just prior to accepting his friendship. He narrowed his eyes and clarified. “From nonrider to rider.”

  Of course he didn’t mean relationship, you idiot. He’s married.

  She whipped her head back to the side and stared at Martin’s name etched in stone. It was engraved in the wedding band she no longer wore, too.

  That had been the first change, about a year and a half ago. She’d gotten out of the shower and picked it up to slip onto her finger, where it had ridden since Martin had placed it there standing in front of his friends and family. She’d hesitated, then set it back down in the little tray she kept in the bathroom for that purpose. After it remained there a month, she’d moved it to her nightstand, and after weeks there, to her jewelry box, tucked back into the foam and velvet alongside her impractical engagement ring.

  She’d done it without much thought, just accepting it as a change and moving on. Now she wondered if it meant more. If it had been her first unconscious decision to begin moving forwards and out of the stasis she’d been caught in since his death.

  “Amanda?” Alex’s question was cautious, careful. “Did I say something wrong?” She shook her head. “Are you sure?” That one she simply didn’t answer, keeping her blurry gaze on the stone, no longer able to pick out Martin’s name. “Oh, honey.” If she hadn’t been weeping before, the sweet pain in Alex’s voice would have caused it. “Come here.” Then he gathered her up in his arms, like he’d done before, and arranged her in his lap. This time it wasn’t leather under her cheek, but warm muscles covered by silken skin. She closed her eyes to block it out. Block everything out. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  She couldn’t have answered him if she’d tried, throat closed tight with tears and regret. If she could have, she would have told him it wasn’t Martin’s death that caused her to weep but the impossibility of building anything with Alex himself. So stupid.

  “Lost one of my soldiers to an IED. Years ago. There wasn’t enough to put in a box to send home to his folks. Hands down, that was the hardest call I had to make, first notification I had to do. I got home in time to go to his funeral, a memorial service, and they had pictures of him everywhere. Helped me to see what he was, before.” The sound of his heart steadied her, a regular bump, bump, bump in her ear. “Caught up to his girlfriend a couple of months ago. She’s married now, two kids, a good life, you know?” The thudding sped up slightly. “She looked at me for a single moment and I could see it all crashing back down on her. My fault for being in the grocery store. My fault for being someone who’d known him. Her face went white, and I swear she was just a minute from passin’ out.” The thudding was faster yet, and then his hand settled on her back. She sighed and nestled closer, and his heartbeat evened back out, slowing to the same steady thump, thump from before. “I told her how good it felt to see her honoring him by living her life. Not sure she believed me right away, but I said it again, and again. How it isn’t right to lock up the sweetness that’s still here and hold tight to that bitterness of loss. I think that’s something you need to hear, too.” He adjusted his hold on her, the underside of his forearm banding across the side of her breast, and just that innocent touch was enough to make her stomach swoop and dip. “It’s okay to live, Amanda. It’s okay to want things that you didn’t have together. It’s not going to change anything if you stay stuck. Well, it will. It’ll change you, but not for the better. So if you want to try new things like ridin’ on a bike, you just let me know and I’ll tell you it’s okay, and normal, and makes me happy. That’s you bein’ strong, and that’s a good thing to see.”

  “You’re married.” She winced at the words bursting from her traitor mouth, blurting things she had no intention of saying.

  “What? No. No I’m not.” His arms tightened around her, wrapped tight as he could without crushing her. “Not for years now.” She didn’t argue, let him have this denial, and felt the change in his body when he realized what she meant. “Oh, fuck. Honey, no. She divorced me long before I left the military. Hated being left alone, and what she got of me wasn’t enough for what she needed. Then I got out and, hell, I’m so different. There ain’t no way I’d put up with her shit now. Plus, she’s married again. I just never changed it because…fuck, I don’t know. It would make a statement, you know? Put a pin in it, and everyone would know. I mean, they already know, but I just didn’t…” He shifted under her, and she went with the jostling, letting him roll to one hip and then back.

  From the corner of her eye, she watched him shuffle his phone hand to hand, then wrap the empty one around her again as he worked on the device with the other. “There,” he said with finality, bringing the screen closer. She blinked. Status: Single.

  “Alex.” She started to say something, not sure what, but certain her traitor mouth would come up with what she needed.

  He shook his head. “Nuh uh. You hush, now. That’s not for you, that’s for me. Swear.” A repeat of the movement as he put the phone away. Then he had both arms around her again. “For me.”

  His heart beat steadily underneath her cheek, reassuring her that this hadn’t been traumatizing, that he wasn’t conflicted, that it didn’t matter to him, except how it mattered to her.

  Eleven

  Monk

  The sun was edging towards the west, and still, they sat. The skin on his shoulders had tightened with a burn he knew he’d feel later, but damn, the way she’d looked at him would be worth any number of inconveniences like a little sunburn. She’d eaten him up with her eyes, and thank God she’d been stuck on all his bared skin, because he’d popped much more than a stiffy, every part of him puffing up under her regard.

  The sense of relief at figuring out what was bothering Amanda still swirled through him, part exhilaration and part fear, because he didn’t want to fuck this up. At some point over the past two years, this woman who should be virtually a stranger had become critically important to him. Today may have marked only the third time they’d spoken, but each of the conversations had been so weighty, so filled with important topics, that it was as if he’d known her forever. Like he knew her inside and out, and she him.

  It had been a long time coming, but today felt like a beginning, and he wanted to hold on to that as long as he could.

  Twelve

  Monk

  It had been a rough day at work, but Monk enjoyed how his crew pulled together to overcome obstacles. Made him feel good about being bumped up to supervisor, and he was pleased to be assigned such good men. Beer in hand, he checked his messages and smiled to see one from Amanda. After months of occasional exchanges via social media, which had gradually grown more frequent, and then edged into flirting territory, she’d asked for his phone number. It’s just easier, she’d messaged, following it with a tongue-sticking-out emoji.

  And he’d acquiesced. Sent her the number only a fraction of a second after her explanation message, desperately fast if she’d noticed.

  He scrolled up to reread the first message in their string. It was from her, of course, because he stupidly hadn’t asked for hers, just handed his out like candy. And then she hadn’t messaged right away. Which meant the resulting interval of two days had been killer on his nerves. He’d been too stubborn to go
back to the messaging app and prompt her, stuck in a merciless kind of limbo where it felt like his future hung in the balance.

  Then she’d texted, and he’d spent long minutes trying to read subtle messages between her questions, because she’d gone straight for deep and personal. He’d balked for a moment, self-preservation instincts prompting him to hold back. Then he reconsidered, remembered the welcome weight of her in his lap, took a deep, deep breath and answered in full, giving her everything she wanted to know.

  Why did your wife divorce you? Just the time apart doesn’t seem like enough of a reason, so saying it that way feels like a cop-out to me. Was she unfaithful? Were you? I know this probably is something like date fifteen territory, but it doesn’t feel like I’ve ever not known you, and I want to know. I want to know before I take any steps with you. Do you still love her? Is that why you didn’t change your status for years? Years, Alex. That’s not something you put off by a week or two. My counselor says not making a decision is making a decision by default, even if it’s a decision to deny whatever it is you’re avoiding. And by you, I mean me. Anyway, this is long, super long, like a book already, but I wanted to know. If you want to tell me, that is. Oh yeah, this is Amanda, in case you haven’t figured it out by now. Serious face emoji, slight smile emoji, question mark emoji.

  He’d started with the easiest response.

  I knew it was you right away.

  She didn’t text back, and he didn’t blame her, because he hadn’t addressed the questions she’d already said were important to her.

  She sent me an email to announce I’d be getting papers. I tried to call her, but it went to voice mail. I wasn’t unfaithful. I didn’t cheat. I’d never do that to someone I loved. If I love someone, I’m all in. No backing out from me. Do not pass Go. Do not collect anyfuckingthing.

  He’d paused a moment, but there was no answering bubble to indicate she was typing, so he’d forged ahead.

  The corps was a good fit for me. Semper fidelis fit my personality. Fits. Always faithful. Friends, family, my brothers in the club. Did I tell you that you get points for always calling it a club and not a gang? That shit pisses me off. He’d been getting off track and had scrolled back up to reread her questions to make sure he answered all of them. Even the ones she didn’t know she was asking. When I got out of the corps, it wasn’t my decision either. That was hard, too, like the thing that defined me didn’t want me anymore. My wife didn’t want me, my career didn’t want me. I didn’t even get on that damn website for a few years. By then she’d unfriended me, changed all her settings and deleted all the photos of us together. It felt like one more slap in the face, you know?

  He’d hit Send and sat, staring at the screen in his hand. It had seemed like forever before that little bubble appeared. It was only when he’d blown out stale air from his lungs that he’d realized he’d been holding his breath, waiting. The bubble went away, then came back, that cycle happening twice more before her message appeared.

  Oh, Alex. That’s terrible. She didn’t even wait to do it face-to-face, but EMAILED you? He could have almost heard her outrage in that capitalized word and had smiled. If anything at all was wrong while Martin was deployed, I held it close until he got home. I didn’t want to break his concentration, you know? He wondered if she knew she was echoing his typing style with the question at the end of a statement. Semper fi is more than words, it’s a way to live. That’s how I understand it, so the fact you were faithful doesn’t surprise me. It pleases me to no end, but doesn’t surprise. A warm sensation swirled through his chest at the idea that he’d pleased her. I’m so, so sorry that I made you answer all these things, Alex. It’s so unfair of me, and you would have been within your rights to tell me to go jump in a lake. Thank you for not telling me to go jump in a lake.

  He’d just begun typing a response when another message came in. Alex had sat and stared at it for a moment, then, with a broad grin on his face, had replied differently.

  PS – I’d like to change my status someday soon. Winky face emoji.

  This was a request he’d known he would bend over backwards to make happen for her.

  How about tomorrow?

  God, that first ride had about done his head in. It had been one thing to intellectually know she’d be perched on the seat behind him and another thing entirely to experience it. Heat from her legs alongside his hips had branded her presence into him like a welcome mark. Her enjoyment of the experience had been exhilarating, and he’d known instantly he’d never be the same. The trust she exhibited was addictive, and through the months since then, he’d initiated rides even when he didn’t really have the time, stealing away from club functions to be with Amanda.

  No regrets. He tapped at the screen with his thumbs, issuing an invitation that he knew she wouldn’t turn down. It’s time. Pulling in a deep breath, he flipped over to another chat string and reached out to his brothers, giving in to their often stated request to officially meet this woman who had so consumed him.

  Blade was the first to respond, and his Hell yeah made Monk grin. Wolf followed quickly with an I’m in that Monk acknowledged with a thumbs-up emoji. Neptune’s answer was slower coming, but when it did, it held all the support and love he’d come to expect from the BFMC members. Monk, brother, you want us there, we’re there.

  So fuckin’ lucky.

  A message came in from Amanda, so he navigated back to their thread, grinning at her proclamation: It’s a date.

  It was past time to take things further with her, with them, and he couldn’t wait to show her how he truly felt. Didn’t matter how the idea of it made his stomach clench; he needed more with her. He’d loved her for months now, even without a single kiss shared between them. Monk had learned her breathtaking beauty paled in comparison to the strength she carried inside, and every interaction between them only made him want her more.

  For months he’d steeled himself every time he dropped her off at home, because he longed to touch her, hold her, kiss her, love her.

  Only days from now, he’d finally act on it.

  Thirteen

  Amanda

  She waited at the curb, hands clasped in front of her chest as she watched Alex ride towards her. He never wore a helmet, but as usual, she saw the one she thought of as hers strapped to the seat behind him and smiled fondly at his thoughtfulness.

  He rolled to a smooth stop right in front of her and shook his head. She could hear him chuckling at her excited reaction over the rumble of the bike. His low call of “You ready, honey?” stirred heat in her belly, and she pressed a clenched fist tight to hold it in.

  They’d ridden together at least once a week since she’d messaged him her request. The first time was terrifying and thrilling all at once. She knew now that Alex had taken it super easy on her that first ride, because since then, they’d ridden on more challenging roads and even on the interstate. She’d been afraid to look at the speedometer that day, staying huddled close against his back. As she’d gained confidence, he’d ratcheted up the length of the rides, too. Today would be another first, because they were supposed to join a group of his friends for part of the day.

  When he’d dropped her off two days ago, she’d asked him in as she always did, and he’d demurred, but with a different response than his standard and frustrating excuse of, “Gotta get home, honey. Work tomorrow.” Two days ago, instead of the normal, he’d told her, “You still want me to come inside Saturday, I’m down for that.” From the look on his face, he’d meant more than those few words, which was how her hopeful heart had taken it.

  And now it was Saturday and she’d almost rather they not ride at all, skipping straight to the part where he came inside. But he already had the helmet loose, was handing it to her while he did something on his phone. She realized he hadn’t killed the bike. All a clear signal that he was in a hurry for some reason, and she didn’t want to disappoint him.

  Helmet in place, she put her hand on his shoulder as sh
e stepped onto her pegs. Hers, because this seat behind him was hers, too. He’d told her at the start of summer that she was the only woman who’d ever ridden behind him, and in her mind, she wrote forwards in time to try and impose her wishes that she be the only one. Ever.

  She wrapped her arms around his waist and snugged up to his back before calling out, “Ready.”

  What had started out as the most innocent of touches, a need imposed on her by safety’s sake, had turned into an intimacy she longed for. Hours spent with her thighs pressed tight to his hips, arms around him, and Alex giving her the protection of his body. This was what had led to her wanting him to come inside, wanting more, but he’d dragged his heels, capturing her fingers with his hand the one time she reached for his face. The only kiss that had passed between them happened that day, the beard-rough feel of his mouth against her knuckles as he’d shaken his head. His muttered promise of “Soon” hadn’t warmed her bed, but she’d held to the fact it wasn’t a no.

  He patted her leg and they were off, the bike jerking in a familiar way under them as he worked up through the gears, topping out a handful of miles per hour over the limit. She’d never felt unsafe with him and knew the speed kept them moving with traffic, something she’d never considered important before. But a slow bike was a vulnerable bike, subject to being overtaken by a distracted driver.

  Time passed along with the scenery, flashing by in a smear of greens and browns. More touchy-feely than normal, she noticed Alex kept rubbing and stroking her hands where they crossed his belly, fingers threading through and gripping, squeezing and then rubbing and stroking again. Almost as if he were trying to soothe her. Or himself.

  He slowed, and she sat up to look around. They were pulling into a gas station where three bikes were already parked in front of the store. Butterflies struck hard then, and she felt unsure of herself for a moment before shaking it off. If he didn’t want me to meet them, he wouldn’t have invited me today. The men stood and started strolling towards them as Alex parked. “You want me off the bike?” He nodded, but she wasn’t certain if it was in response to her question or in greeting to the men. Then he touched her leg, a soft stroke, before holding his hand out. Answer enough, so she used that leverage to clamber off the bike.