Broken Crescent (Devil's Sons Motorcycle Club Book 2) (7 page)

Fatima caught his eye and looked pointedly at Afia. “What’s gotten into you, Rayan? Afia, don’t be a glutton.”

She put down her fork with a sigh and pushed back from the table.  “I need to go. I have some assignments to finish at home. It’s getting late.”

“Don’t get lost along the way,” Fatima replied, glancing over at Rayan.

Afia adjusted her hijab. “Now, why would I do that, Maman? Like you said…” She stared at Rayan to drive the point home. “I’m a good girl. Goodbye, Maman, Baba.”

She darted out of the door, the sound of Rayan laughing out loud chasing her.  He was a cad and a coward. She hopped into her car, angrily slamming the car door and jamming her key into the ignition. She knew what Rayan was trying to do. With his belittling and degrading comments, he would raise their parents’ suspicions, even if he didn’t confess her secret outright.

Afia gunned the engine and hurried home to her apartment, away from her older brother’s manipulation and schemes.  She was furious at Rayan. Something had to be done about him. She just had to figure out what to do.

CHAPTER 7

“Your brother is unstable, Afia,” he countered over the phone. “Are you entirely certain you want to play this game with him? If everything you’ve told me about him is correct, which I have no doubt it is, then instead of getting caught up in his game, you should end this.”

“Rayan thinks he can intimidate me with these tactics, but he can’t.”

“Tell them, Afia.” He dropped his head in his hand and massaged the bridge of his nose. “I’ll go with you. We can sit them down and talk to them together.”

“This is another one of those situations that I have to—“

“Handle alone,” he sighed. “I know. I’m just…I don’t want to put you in a situation where you might get hurt, physically or emotionally. Rayan dropping hints like that will not only make your parents doubt you…it might turn them against you entirely. I grew up without a two-parent supportive household, babe. I know how important having your parents there for you can be.”

“You said you were ready to face the hardship.”

He pushed back from his desk, the model engine he had been working on forgotten as he paced the spacious home office with one hand in his pocket. His bare feet coasted over the plush beige carpet, and he walked around a squat leather ottoman to sit on the couch. He lounged back against the thick cushion.

When he had gotten the late evening call from Afia, he had been anticipating hearing her voice because the last time they had spoken she had been a little distressed about going home since Rayan knew they were dating again. He had hoped she would call back with good news. Finding out her malicious older brother was tormenting her put him on edge.  Sam was much more used to fighting his own battles versus standing behind and waiting for someone else to speak for him. He could understand Afia feeling like she knew her family better and how to respond to their reactions, but it was crippling to feel so out of touch with what was going on, especially when the key to his happiness depended on things going well.

“I want to be with you, Afia. I will put myself on the frontline. I’ll go through the obstacles, but that’s not what you’re asking me to do.  You want me to sit back and let you handle this, and frankly I feel like my hands are tied. Just tell me what you want me to do.”

Her voice softened and sounded vulnerable. “Whatever happens…just be there for me.”

He glanced out the glass doors that looked over the backyard, where his Victory Cross Roads was parked. “I’ll be there for you. You know that. Do you want me to come get you tonight? I’m free. The gang took a ride without me.” The Devil’s Sons had gone out to an illegal race, but Sam had held back, citing work that needed to be finished. The truth was he was waiting to hear from Afia.

He pushed down his regret at making the team stand alone because he knew, with or without him, they were fine out there. He wondered how much money they were winning. Tokyo was probably being a showoff. He had a new bike some fool girl had gotten him for his twenty-third birthday. Sam looked at the kid like a little brother, and he should’ve been there making sure he didn’t break his neck. Again, Sam sighed and dragged his attention back to the conversation at hand.

“I think it’s best if you don’t come over tonight. I told my parents I had to get home to work on something for class. It was a lie, but if Rayan decides to pass by the apartment complex, I don’t want him seeing your bike parked out front.”

Sam nodded. “I guess that’s for the best.”

They drifted into a conversation about the project he was working on and about the gang, but Sam wasn’t in much of a mood to talk. He had a lot on his mind, namely what he should do about his relationship with Afia. If things didn’t lighten up between her and her brother soon, he felt he would have to make the decision to let her go. As much as it would hurt him, he couldn’t stand by and watch her family turn away from her on his account.

There was always the motorcycle club for him to call kin. Who would Afia have without her mom and dad?

***

They sat in a park on a sunny Wednesday afternoon, finally alone after weeks of taking things slowly, and Afia suddenly couldn’t figure out why she had insisted on the separation in the first place. The sun overhead was bright and white hot over the verdant greenery of the garden-like landscape. The stone bench where Afia and Sam were sharing a soft-spoken conversation was across from a still, deep pond, and long-necked swans swam sedately by as they talked.

A winding path curved past them with joggers and dog walkers going about their normal evening routine. Sam slipped a grape into Afia’s mouth and smiled at her, touching the tip of her pert little nose. “I’m glad we decided to meet here,” he said.

“I am, too. I’ve missed you a lot.”

“I had some stuff to take care of with the gang the past two weekends, and I’ve been busy at work this the week. It’s a wonder I have any time at all to talk in the evenings, but I made time today.”

“The only thing on my agenda is school, school, and more school. I can’t wait for the summer semester to be over. I took it on thinking I’d get closer to finishing up. Well, it got me closer, but I’m exhausted.” Afia lolled her head back, massaging her neck. Sam watched her face, thinking she was beautiful. It made it harder to resist her, to stick to his resolve.

Over the weeks apart, ever since they had made a decision to get back together, Sam had been thinking. He wanted to be with Afia, but he also wanted to protect her, and it was difficult knowing his role in her life caused her so much pain. The situation with her brother wasn’t under control. Afia had confided to Sam the minor blackmail she was using to keep Rayan out of her business, but Sam had a feeling things would soon come to a head.

He knew he wanted his relationship to stand, and he knew her parents would likely want it to dissolve. The least he could do, though, was keep Afia in an honorable position. Sam had made the decision not to sleep with her again. If their connection could stand that test, it could stand anything. And, if the relationship didn’t work out…well, then at least she would retain some of her innocence.

“To tell you the truth, I’ve kind of been avoiding you,” he confessed sheepishly.

Afia pulled back, surprised. “Why have you been avoiding me?” A shaggy terrier raced past them, yapping loudly at a boy playing with a ball in the grass. Afia’s attention was momentarily arrested by its passing, but when she turned back to Sam, he was staring at her intently. His elbow was rested on the back of the park bench, and he wore a half smile.

“For the same reason people on diets avoid their favorite restaurants. You’re too much of a temptation. Every time I see you, Afia, I feel a rush. It’s like a drug. They always say that about love and desire—that it’s addicting. But, I mean more like a dangerous high, and I want more and more of you. I’m not trying to have merely a physical relationship with you. So, I’m trying to avoid sleeping with you. There are deeper ways to connect. Easier said than done, but possible.”

Afia tilted her head to the side, considering. There certainly were deeper ways to connect. It was pleasant talking on the phone deep into the night like teenagers, like they’d never run out of things to say to each other. She could picture more dates like the current one, too. It would be lovely to go out, have dinner, see a movie, and hold hands. Intimacy wasn’t about intercourse. It was about meaningful sharing. She liked the sound of his proposition.

“Are you telling me that you’re still willing to be with me even if there’s no sex involved?” Afia asked skeptically. “That’s not very American of you.” She giggled, not fully believing him.

Sam laughed and said, “Why isn’t it? This place is all about individualism. Just because the majority is into something doesn’t mean everybody is or everybody should be. I don’t run with a crowd, sweetheart. I’m telling you I want to be with you, regardless of whether we’re sleeping together. The thing that bothers me about this problem with your parents is I understand they’re just looking out for your best interests.”

She tucked her hand into his, staring off at the lake, the swans, and the landscape. There were colorful flowers, some of them desert blossoms. The local climate got hot enough for them. She contemplated Sam’s response. “I know that’s what they’re trying to do. I can also see how to people like you and Bionca it would seem like they’re trying to control me.”

“A lot of relationships spring up out of lust. Most parents want to make sure their kids never get hurt, never get heartbroken, and never know sorrow. Culture aside, that’s what your mom and pop are trying to do for you by ensuring you make a connection with someone based off of something more tangible than that tingly feeling you get when you desire someone, and that’s understandable. That said, I want to make sure this is the real deal, too. I’m breaking a lot of my own rules here. I don’t usually do serious relationships.”

Sam’s lips were curved in a half-smile. It was a bit of an understatement. He didn’t do serious relationships period. Sam had gotten accustomed to keeping around a nice, regular lay but nothing with strings attached. The minute he had met Afia, everything had changed for him. Suddenly, he could see himself enjoying her company long term. Even when they had broken up for two weeks, he hadn’t moved on to easier conquests. He had thrown himself into racing and his motorcycle club, but not into another woman’s bed. In his mind, that said a lot about Afia. Any woman who could keep his attention like that was a keeper.

Afia was impressed by his line of thinking and flattered at the lengths he was taking to accommodate her parents without them even knowing. Her eyebrows knit over her nose in slight confusion. She really couldn’t see anything about the man that her parents wouldn’t love—except that he wasn’t Muslim. “You know what I think?” she murmured in wonder, laying her head on his shoulder. “I think I might fall in love with you.”

“Might?” he chuckled. “Damn, I think I’m already there.”

***

Sam arrived at home earlier than he had intended, having dropped Afia off at her place around seven to finish something for class. He walked into his ranch house and dug out his cellphone. He had a few missed calls. As a man who found it impolite for a person to entertain an electronic device more than his date, Sam made a habit of turning his off when he was out with Afia.

But, as he scrolled through the list, he noticed Quentin had called him numerous times over the course of the evening. Sam quickly hit the redial button to call him back. “Wassup, man?” he responded at the sound of Quentin’s hurried hello.

“I’ve been trying to get in touch with you all evening. Man, Tokyo got arrested. Cop said his bike was stolen.”

“I thought that chick, GeeGee, bought it for him.” Sam reached for his keys and headed back out the door.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too. According to Manga, turns out him and Tokyo won it in a race against some knucklehead who turned around and reported it stolen.”

“I’m on my way to you now.”

CHAPTER 8

It was a hot, sticky night, but the breeze felt terrific from the back of a motorcycle, and Sam and the rest of The Devil’s Sons, minus Tokyo, descended on the Widow Maker’s compound, preceded by the sound of their bikes. Sam skidded in the dust outside the hangar tucked to the side of a rundown farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. It was bad business taking the fight to the enemy’s turf, and he knew that, but he didn’t have time to follow proper protocol.

Sam hopped from the back of his ride as soon as he slid to a halt and put it in park, stomping angrily up to the hangar doors. He banged on the metal with his fist. “Reiken!” he yelled out. Kaleidoscope joined him as the doors swung open and light fell upon them from inside. The Widow Makers was a ladies’ motorcycle club, and Kaleidoscope was gearing up for a cat fight.

The leader of the rival gang stood at the threshold with her manicured nails digging into thick hips, her tight jean shorts encasing muscular thighs. Wearing nothing but a bra under a brown bomber jacket, her tousled blond hair fell around her sharp face in ripples of gold. She let out a fierce cat call, echoed by the five other women inside the hangar, and smiled at Sam, eyebrow lifted. “We got a live one, girls!”

Quentin stepped forward, dark eyes on the vixen in leather and high heel brown boots. “This ain’t a leisure call,” he replied coldly. “Where’s GeeGee?”

The biker chick circled Quentin warily, her green eyes skating from the big burly black guy to his accomplices. Reiken had history with Quentin, but she was sure his crew wasn’t aware of that. She grinned and flicked her pink tongue along her coral lips. “GeeGee,” she said. A raven haired beauty with doe-like eyes and a coke bottle figure poured into skintight jeans and a ripped muscle shirt stepped forward and ambled toward the brewing conflict, a knowing look on her face. 

“Apparently you got something these fellas want. You know anything about it?” Reiken asked lightly.

“Aw, honey, everybody wants a stab at the G-spot, don’t they?” GeeGee put her arm around Reiken’s waist. Dragging the statuesque blonde closer, she tongue-kissed her seductively with a throaty groan, both women aware of Brick and Quentin staring with reserved interest. Reiken cooed and slipped a hand up under GeeGee’s shirt. She squeezed her possessively.

“You raced against one of my crew and lost,” Sam spat, pushing forward. He wasn’t in the mood for games or beating around the bush. Tokyo had a solid future ahead of him that a criminal record might mangle irreparably, and Sam wasn’t about to let that happen on his watch. He crooked his fingers and beckoned to GeeGee. “I think you and I need to have a little talk with the sheriff and let him know that the police report saying the bike was stolen was a little error on your part, sweetheart.”

GeeGee chuckled and tossed her black hair over her shoulder. “That kid fucked with the wrong bitch, baby, and he’s the one that got screwed. I ain’t goin’ nowhere with you. Ain’t that right, mama?” She patted Reiken on the ass.

Reiken shrugged, pulling away from the sultry seductress to look back at Sam. “She said she ain’t going.”

Quentin stepped forward insistently. “Rei…”

“Careful, Q-Ball.” She put a finger to his chest and pushed him back. “I bite.”

Kaleidoscope pointed her gun at Reiken’s face. Quentin pushed her arm down. “It doesn’t have to be like this. Look, all we want is for the girl to come down to the precinct and help us get Tokyo out. He’s a damn idiot kid. You feel like he overstepped his boundaries? Cool. He might have. But, we’re not leaving until we get what we came here to get. Comprende? GeeGee! Get your shit and come on.”

Sam shook his head in frustration and dug into his pocket for his wallet. “How much was the bike worth?” He knew they would inflate the cost, and he knew he’d pay an arm and an ass for something probably not worth spit, but he was willing if it meant they could get the fuck out of dodge. The tension in the air was palpable. Kaleidoscope seemed to have a grudge, and she was trigger happy.

Eyes lit up at the sight of money about to exchange hands. “We’re not paying them for shit,” Kaleidoscope growled. Even Brick looked at him in askance.

Quentin whispered out of the side of his mouth, “This shit will run like wildfire.”

“I got ten thousand says I can take any one of you in here right now, right out there. If I lose, you get to keep the money. But, if I win, GeeGee comes with us.” He stood his ground. Q was right. If he paid them off, their reputation would suffer, and every biker with a bad attitude would try their luck at strong-arming The Devil’s Sons for more easy money. But, if they had a fair race, it would look better for his crew.

“Show us the money,” Reiken challenged. Sam didn’t walk around with ten thousand in cash. He did, however, wear an exquisite Movado watch he put up as collateral with the money he did have on hand. Reiken shrugged. “Fair enough.”

The lady bikers conferred privately while The Devil’s Sons waited impatiently for them to pick their rider. When Reiken turned back, she had a smile on her face that made Sam uncomfortable. “We’re down for a race,” she said. “But, not against you. Woman to woman, and it looks like that only leaves you with one potential rider.”

Her glittering green eyes slid to Kaleidoscope. The flame-haired Frenchwoman bared her teeth, and Reiken grinned, whistling low.

“I’ve got this, Sam,” said Kaleidoscope, as she strutted out to check her bike while Quentin, Brick, and Sam shared looks. Kaleidoscope was good, but a gamble.

“This isn’t what we originally agreed to,” Sam countered. “I race or no one races, and we still don’t leave until GeeGee comes with us.”

“Well, lock up for us boys, and I hope you don’t get lonely waiting. Cause we’re riding out in a few,” Reiken chuckled.

Kaleidoscope stood back, pissed as a rattlesnake that Sam would publicly question her ability to win. She pointed her pistol in the air and fired off an explosive round that thundered through the quiet night, drawing everyone’s attention. Sam flinched and scowled at her. “I said I’ve got this, Sam,” she reiterated.

Reiken replied, “Ooh, I like a lady who speaks her mind.” She sauntered past Sam, leaving the boys to stare in disbelief as Kaleidoscope took control of the situation.

The start and finish lines were quietly and quickly negotiated, Sam and Reiken haggling for the advantage. Sam knew Kaleidoscope’s bike could handle speed if given enough distance to kick into high gear, but Reiken wanted a short race. It was finally decided by a coin toss.

Quentin threw a quarter in the air. When he looked down, he shook his head and swore. “It’s in Rei’s favor.”

Sam bristled, but let it ride. He pulled aside Kaleidoscope to give her some pointers, but before he could open his mouth, she jabbed his in his chest. “No, you listen to me. Don’t you ever put me out like that again! You made me look like shit, Sam!”

“I’m sorry, but I’ve raced against her before, and she’s really good, Kalei. This isn’t about you. This is about Tokyo.”

She grinned and nodded. “Baby, it’s always about winning, no matter what else it’s about.”

She moved to the starting line on her Indian Chief Classic. It was fire engine red, the same shade as her hair. It was sleek and sexy with chrome innards. On her bike, Kaleidoscope was in charge. One thing about being a part of an otherwise male biker club was that they always underestimated her. It was time to prove herself once and for all.

The rest of the Widow Makers and the gang with The Devil’s Sons spread out along the roadside in front of the compound. It was a hideaway, and there wasn’t much traffic on the road. It was the perfect place for a race.

Quentin held the pistol up in the air and counted down the start, and when the blast fired, the motorcycles shot off like meteors from God’s slingshot, leaving the ripe smell of burnt rubber in their wake. There was a point where Kaleidoscope lagged far behind the seasoned racer, but they had to get to the finish line and back. That was where the red haired fighter met her stride.  Sam let out a yelp of encouragement, Brick and Quentin yelling for her to keep at it, even as Reiken counter-steered and tried to run her off the road.

Kaleidoscope’s bike was made for stability more so than speed. There was no unseating Kaleidoscope. In a blur, both bikes rushed past the finish line, but The Devil’s Sons mistress was in first place. She cut her wheel to the side and easily coasted to a halt next to the boys.

“Now, what was that about her being really good and all that caca?” she asked, smiling.

“Fuck!” GeeGee shouted.

Reiken pulled up on the opposite side, yanking off her helmet and shaking her golden mane in frustration. She cast a glance at Quentin, and he smiled and put his head down, knowing damn well she could’ve beat Kalei. Rei was doing him a favor. He’d pay for it later.

“Looks like you won,” Reiken replied. “GeeGee?”

They left the place in a hurry. It was time to get Tokyo out of jail.

***

It wasn’t until after the paperwork and legalities were squared away that Sam finally got to pull his right hand man aside and ask a few pointed questions. They sat in Sam’s living room, having drinks.

“So, what happened back there? I got the sense you and Reiken had an unspoken conversation going on that whole time the rest of us weren’t privy to.” Sam drew on a Cuban cigar from his friend, the investment banker by day.

“What do you mean?” Quentin feigned ignorance. He chuckled ruefully, knowing he couldn’t keep a secret from his friend. He tossed back his dreadlocks and shrugged casually.

“You know what I’m talking about,” said Sam, pointing at him with the hand in which he held a tumbler of whiskey. “You two had something going on.”

“Well…let’s just say that little chat me and you had a while back was coming from personal experience,” Quentin conceded. “Some of us are built for this life, and some of us aren’t. I told you I’m starting to feel like I’m too old for this shit.”

“Then, why would you tell me to give up Afia, knowing you have something like that to go home to? Not that I was looking, but…“—Sam grinned—“…she’s a looker.”

Quentin fired back with more emotion than he intended. “Because, Sam! Some of us are built for this life, and Rei
is
. I’m the Afia in this case, you understand? I know what it’s like worrying about the person you love. I know what it’s like to want to see her when I wake up and when I go to bed, to not have to worry about races and the dark underbelly of biker gangs. I want a normal fucking life, man. How the hell can anybody living faster than the speed of life have that?”

The question stayed with Sam deep into the night, long after his friend was gone. There was so much more at stake than Afia losing her family by staying with him. He wasn’t prepared to give up the motorcycle club.  What if, like Quentin, she needed that from him?