"You can close your eyes to things you don't want to see, but you can't close your heart to the things you don't want to feel."- Unknown.
Ever since the death of my mother, I've been keen on never getting attached to anything; a town, a job, a house, a person. I'm a runner. That's what I'm good at. It's all I know. Sitting on the back of this bike, with the wind blowing through my hair, holding on to a man who could potentially be my kryptonite, all I could think about was the way my name sounded on his lips and how it felt to be beneath him. I wanted to tell him to stop, to turn around. Let me walk away now before I invested any more feelings. But I couldn't.
He pulled off of the road, heading up a dirt path in the woods. I watched the trees fly by, leaning my head against his back. Eventually, we ended up at a clearing about 5 miles into the woods. He slowed down to a stop and I climbed off of the bike. "What is this place?" I asked him.
There was long scriptures carved into all the tree trunks. I walked over to one, running my fingers along it.
"Anarchism..." I read, " stands for liberation of the human mind from the dominion of religion; the liberation of the human body from the dominion of property; liberation from shackles and restraint of government. It stands for social order based on the free grouping of individuals."
"My dad used to come up here when he was alive, to get away from everyone. I never understood why he spent so much time just sitting alone in the woods. He brought me up here a few weeks before he died. He told me not to talk, and just listen. " He told me, slipping his hands in his pockets. "It's peaceful, ya know. Somewhere you can go to forget about all the bullshit in your life. Been coming here ever since." He sat down on a fallen tree trunk; watching me admire his father's words.
"The concept was pure, simple, true, it inspired me, led a rebellious fire, but ultimately I learned the lesson that Goldman, Prudot and the others learned. That true freedom requires sacrifice and pain. Most human beings only think they want freedom. In truth they yearn for the bondage of social order, rigid laws, materialism, the only freedom man really wants, is the freedom to become comfortable."
"Your father was an intelligent man." I told him. He didn't reply.
"Why did you bring me here?" I asked, turning to face him. "Don't get me wrong, it's beautiful but it seems like a personal place."
"I want you to know me, too."
I sat down next to him. "How'd he die?" I asked.
"A semi-truck hit him on the highway. I was 15 when it happened. He ran out on our family and the club years before though. Maybe not physically, but mentally he was a traitor; a coward." He said, lighting up a cigarette.
"What exactly is the club?" I asked.
"It's just a group of men who ride together and watch each other's backs." He shrugged. "It's a family. If a brother dies or can't work, we take care of his wife and children and make sure they have everything they need."
"A family where you establish leadership," I said, pointing to his Vice President patch.
"We make decisions as a club. Business related, some charity. It's good to have one voice who speaks for everyone. All this patch means is that I'm next in line to take over once my step-father can't ride anymore." I took in what he had said.
"What's your story?"
I sighed. "Well, my dad was never a part of my life. He left my mother when she got pregnant. She died when I was 16, cervical cancer. Since then, I've pretty much been on my own." He nodded, passing me his cigarette. I took a drag of it. "It's better that way, being alone. Easier."
"Don't you get lonely?" He asked. "I manage." I shrugged.
"So how long will you be around?"
"I'm not sure. Uncer left me his house. I don't know if I'm going to sell it or keep it yet. It could go either way."
"I hope you find what you're looking for darlin'," he said, looking at me. "I just hope you find it in Charming." He grabbed my hand in his. I admired how it looked, intertwined together. He pushed my chin up forcing me to lock eye contact with him before crashing his lips into mine. I ran my fingers through his hair, tugging him closer. He pulled back and rested his forehead against mine.
"You make me feels things I've never felt before."
I inhaled, trying to catch my breath and process what he had just said. "Let's get out of here." I nodded. He stood up and led me to the bike.
We pulled up to a small bar on the far side of town. "I come here when I don't feel like being around a crowd." He told me. "It's quieter."
There was, at most, 25 people inside. It was a relatively calm environment. I looked over and noticed a familiar face, it was the man from The Iron Horse who had watched his friends instigate the fight earlier. I walked up to the bar, ordering two drafts. Jax had walked over to the man in the matching cut-off.
"Here you go." The bartender said, sliding the drinks over. I sat them down at a nearby table. Jax was walking towards me with his friend following.
"Nichole, this is Bobby. He's part of the club."
"Hi sweetheart, it's nice to meet you." Bobby said, reaching for a handshake.
"Same to you," I smiled at him.
"Jax tells me you're pretty incredible." Bobby nudged the blonde-haired man.
I laughed. "He said that? That's a high standard to live up to."
"I'm sure you won't disappoint."
"I hope not." I replied.
"Tim," Bobby called to the bartender, "how about a few rounds for the table?"
"The usual?" Tim questioned. Bobby nodded.
Tim walked over with a tray of shots. "Should I call a cab now or wait til later?" The bartender joked.
"You know I don't leave my Harley anywhere." Bobby said. Tim shook his head and went back behind the bar.
I could smell the liquor without even picking it up. "Tequila." I said.
"You bet your sweet ass." He looked at Jax, "what are you waiting for?"
"I'm packing double tonight, that wouldn't be such a good idea." Jax said. Bobby nodded, understanding. "Have at it darlin'," he looked at me and motioned toward the tray.
Oh, what the hell. Why not? I thought, picking one up and bringing it to my lips.
"Yeah, she's definitely a keeper." Bobby smirked. I lit up a cigarette, taking a drag to balance out the burn in my throat. A slow song had come on the jukebox. "Dance with me," Jax said.
"Oh, no. I don't dance." I said, shaking my head. "Well I do, and I'm pretty good at it." He replied. Grabbing my hands, he pulled me against him. I gave in and wrapped my arms around his neck while he swayed to the music.
I love how it felt to be close to him; his warmth, his smell, everything. I'm sure we looked like idiots. We were the only two people in the bar dancing, but I didn't care. He buried his face in my hair. I caught a glance of Bobby, who was smiling and shaking his head.
The doors of the bar swung open and I felt myself being thrown to the ground.
Jax was hovering over me. "Nichole," he said. My ears stung. I reached up to cover them. What was that? Gunshots?
"Nichole, I need you to listen to me." I looked at him, confused. "Crawl behind the bar. GO!" He reached into his jeans, pulling out a gun he had tucked in.
What was going on? I managed to stand up but immediately dropped to the floor when a bullet hit a beer bottle and shattered it a foot away from me.
Shaking, I dragged myself to safety. The bartender was laying limp on the ground next to me, his brains splattered on the wall. My ears were ringing but I could still make out screams in the room. It was a blood-bath. Another bullet shattered a cup that had been placed on the counter directly above my head. I gasped as shards of glass hit me.
"Mayans, Jax," I could hear Bobby yell, "call for back-up, I'm running dry."
Jax jumped behind the bar where I was hiding and knelt down. He pulled his cellphone out and started talking to someone. I couldn't hear what he was saying. I watched him hang the phone up and mouth something to me. Was he talking? I looked at him, confused. I wiped my forehead feeling moisture trickle down, ignorant to the sting of the wound until seeing the blood on my hand.
He stood up and fired more shots, then knelt back down and began shaking me. "Nichole." I didn't reply. I wanted to stand up, to see what was happening. I tried to get on my feet but was pushed back down. "Nichole," he said firmly. "Something's happening right now that you're unable to comprehend."
"Okay." I swallowed.
"Are you afraid?" He asked. "I need you to be afraid darlin', fear keeps you alive."
Bobby joined us behind the bar. "I'm almost out," he said, "how much do you have left?"
"A clip and a half." Jax replied. "How many guys are there?"
"Too many." Bobby stood up, holding them off.
Jax looked at me. "I'm so sorry." He cupped my face in his hands. "There's an emergency exit across the room from us, can you see it?" I nodded. "I want you to run for it."
A/N: Please review if you liked the chapter! I'll update when I get some feedback. Constructive criticism is welcomed. I appreciate all the support I can get.