wounds were looked after.
As I watched Hope attend to the wounded men, Bandit sat beside me. “Your mom is safe now. You are safe now. Conrad is just a bad memory.”
“The kind of memory that clings onto you.”
He nodded. “I agree. It would worry me if that didn't leave an impact. I’d think you were a psychopath or something.”
I had to laugh, even with exhaustion taking me over. Bandit was always there with some dark humor to lighten the mood.
He started laughing, too. “You gonna make it, sweetheart?”
“Yeah. I just need a bed like nobody’s business.” My eyes were barely staying up, and I could hear a drunken slur in my voice. “We’ve got to take my mom home, though.”
Hope jumped in. “Actually, I think it might be best if she stay with me for the night. She’s not hurt, but I think she is pretty shaken up. I have a few sleep aids, and eight solid hours might do her a world of good. It’s up to you, though.”
I looked to Bandit, then around the bar. It was filled with outlaws, most of them bandaged up in one way or another. A week beforehand, I’d never consider leaving my mom with anyone like them. Now they were just as much my family as she was.
Trask slid an arm around Hope’s waist. “Are we having a guest over for the night?”
I smiled. “If you think it’s best. Hope, Trask, I can’t thank you two enough. I don’t know what would’ve happened without you and the Sons.”
Bandit pulled me to him and kissed my forehead, careful to avoid the injury at my temple. “I know that nothing good would have happened.”
“He’s right.” Trask looked around. “These guys might smell and have some shit manners, but they know right from wrong. They are good men. We’re glad to have you joining our ranks, Celeste.”
The pride in Trask’s voice couldn’t be missed. For the first time in more than a year, I felt at home.
Three months after everything went down at Blythe mansion, my life had been changed with a dramatic hand. I cursed Conrad for crippling me with money. Living with Bandit was hard to get used to. He lived a fairly simple life. No more foyer; personal cook; maid; or Lexus. It was as if that was Conrad’s last means of hurting me.
The stress was high for Bandit, too. He was used to living alone, and I’m sure my insistence on a clean house grated on him. Actually, I’m sure of it. After a few days, we were at each other’s throats, and I was worried that we couldn’t keep it together. One day, he left in the middle of a fight, and I began to think of moving back in with my mother. She could use the help, and I could use the space.
Then we took a trip. Bandit came home and tossed me a helmet. We rode out near Lake Tahoe and found a secluded spot in the pines. The tension between us shattered into the hottest angry sex I could ever remember. We collapsed beside Bandit’s Harley in the shade of the forest. I lay on his chest and we talked through things. Sometimes a rough fuck is just what a relationship needs.
I’m not saying we were without our problems, but things got better every day. Bandit and I began carving out a life together. He started picking up his clothes instead of just tossing them on the floor. It was progress, at least.
For the first time in over a year, I went back to work. I had years of experience as a bookkeeper for a construction firm, but I didn’t think I could go back to the regular working-stiff world. Lucky for me, the Rising Sons were in need of someone good when it came to numbers and bad when it came to morals. It was a perfect fit.
As the Rising Sons Motorcycle Club, Davis Chapter began to grow, we found new and creative ways to bring in money. A more established gang in town seemed to be losing more and more steady jobs as the government had them under the microscope. We began running protection jobs up and down California. Between the Bakersfield chapter and ours, we had most of the great state
As I watched Hope attend to the wounded men, Bandit sat beside me. “Your mom is safe now. You are safe now. Conrad is just a bad memory.”
“The kind of memory that clings onto you.”
He nodded. “I agree. It would worry me if that didn't leave an impact. I’d think you were a psychopath or something.”
I had to laugh, even with exhaustion taking me over. Bandit was always there with some dark humor to lighten the mood.
He started laughing, too. “You gonna make it, sweetheart?”
“Yeah. I just need a bed like nobody’s business.” My eyes were barely staying up, and I could hear a drunken slur in my voice. “We’ve got to take my mom home, though.”
Hope jumped in. “Actually, I think it might be best if she stay with me for the night. She’s not hurt, but I think she is pretty shaken up. I have a few sleep aids, and eight solid hours might do her a world of good. It’s up to you, though.”
I looked to Bandit, then around the bar. It was filled with outlaws, most of them bandaged up in one way or another. A week beforehand, I’d never consider leaving my mom with anyone like them. Now they were just as much my family as she was.
Trask slid an arm around Hope’s waist. “Are we having a guest over for the night?”
I smiled. “If you think it’s best. Hope, Trask, I can’t thank you two enough. I don’t know what would’ve happened without you and the Sons.”
Bandit pulled me to him and kissed my forehead, careful to avoid the injury at my temple. “I know that nothing good would have happened.”
“He’s right.” Trask looked around. “These guys might smell and have some shit manners, but they know right from wrong. They are good men. We’re glad to have you joining our ranks, Celeste.”
The pride in Trask’s voice couldn’t be missed. For the first time in more than a year, I felt at home.
Three months after everything went down at Blythe mansion, my life had been changed with a dramatic hand. I cursed Conrad for crippling me with money. Living with Bandit was hard to get used to. He lived a fairly simple life. No more foyer; personal cook; maid; or Lexus. It was as if that was Conrad’s last means of hurting me.
The stress was high for Bandit, too. He was used to living alone, and I’m sure my insistence on a clean house grated on him. Actually, I’m sure of it. After a few days, we were at each other’s throats, and I was worried that we couldn’t keep it together. One day, he left in the middle of a fight, and I began to think of moving back in with my mother. She could use the help, and I could use the space.
Then we took a trip. Bandit came home and tossed me a helmet. We rode out near Lake Tahoe and found a secluded spot in the pines. The tension between us shattered into the hottest angry sex I could ever remember. We collapsed beside Bandit’s Harley in the shade of the forest. I lay on his chest and we talked through things. Sometimes a rough fuck is just what a relationship needs.
I’m not saying we were without our problems, but things got better every day. Bandit and I began carving out a life together. He started picking up his clothes instead of just tossing them on the floor. It was progress, at least.
For the first time in over a year, I went back to work. I had years of experience as a bookkeeper for a construction firm, but I didn’t think I could go back to the regular working-stiff world. Lucky for me, the Rising Sons were in need of someone good when it came to numbers and bad when it came to morals. It was a perfect fit.
As the Rising Sons Motorcycle Club, Davis Chapter began to grow, we found new and creative ways to bring in money. A more established gang in town seemed to be losing more and more steady jobs as the government had them under the microscope. We began running protection jobs up and down California. Between the Bakersfield chapter and ours, we had most of the great state
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