Twisted Chapter 4

It had been a week and a half since I spoke to Zahirah. In that time, I'd thought about her and those kids numerous times. I tried to tell myself they were fine. Undoubtedly, she told her husband what had occurred when he got home, and he'd taken care of ensuring his family was safe. What helped me to believe it was that I hadn't seen the kids walking home since then.

I thought it was my civic duty to check to be sure they or other kids weren't being hurt by those three little pricks. What was to say Aliya and Arif were their only victims? Bullies like them always find someone to pick on. To make sure, I might've ridden by there a few times at the time of day that I saw them before and hung out to see if I saw them again. Nothing.

Noting this, I should be able to forget about them. Only, it wasn't happening. I was a tad less worried about them than the bigger issue, which was my thoughts and dreams about Zahirah. I wasn't proud of those, but no matter how many times I told myself to stop, I wasn't able to. I was having sexual thoughts about another man's wife. Never in a thousand years had I ever thought that would be me.

Since watching the Warriors and our other friends begin to settle down and then my own club brothers, I knew how it would infuriate me if a man lusted after the woman who was mine. There would always be those who might look but not touch. I understood you couldn't kill someone for merely looking, but in the dark of the night, when I wasn't able to sleep because I was thinking of her, I thought I understood how it would be tempting.

If her husband knew the things I imagined doing with her and to her, he'd hunt my ass down and kill me on the spot. My sexual dreams had never been as hot as these were. I was beating off more than I had in decades. Admittedly, I could've gone to the clubhouse and had Toni, Fiona, or Natalie either suck me off or let me fuck them, but the idea of touching them when I wanted her made me ill. All I could do was pray my fascination with her would fade soon.

Today was Saturday, and I was coming from the Depot. There had been an issue with an irate customer who wouldn't leave the premises, so I went to handle it. Lucky for him, he left when I showed up. It was after ten in the morning now, and I was taking a ride before going home. Tonight, I decided I was going to the clubhouse and hopefully get over my squeamishness about touching the bunnies and getting some real sex. Something had to give before I lost it and did something truly stupid, like make a play for a taken woman. If I did that, my club would kick my ass—no need to worry about her husband.

Riding through the streets, I wasn't paying attention to where I was, which was stupid. Shaking off my wayward thoughts, I glanced around. When I noted where I was, I groaned. What the fuck? I recognized the area. I was in the small neighborhood where Zahirah lived. What the hell was wrong with me? I was in the process of slowing down to turn around when I spotted her house. What kept me from going back in the opposite direction was seeing her and the kids outside. They were standing in front of their closed garage door. The sight of her was enough to make me stare, but the words sprayed in bold red letters on the garage door were what made me say the hell with leaving.

Die, you terrorist fuckers! Was there for all to see. As I rode up, I noticed some of their neighbors were out in their yards staring at them. Not a single one was over there comforting them or offering to help cover it. I saw they had a can of paint on the driveway and a couple of rolling pans and paint rollers. As I got closer, they all turned my way. The pain and fury on her face were only slightly less mirrored on the kids' faces, along with what I thought was fear. Coming to a stop, I shut off my bike, got off it, and then walked over to them. Anger was flowing through my veins.

"Who the hell did this?" I barked out.

Aliya and Arif shrunk back. Zahirah stood there tall and proud. The woman had a backbone which only made her more attractive to me, damn it. She had to stop.

"I'll give you a guess even if I can't prove it. They think it's funny to make us paint the garage door every few days."

"This isn't the first time?"

"No, and I doubt it'll be the last," she muttered.

"What do the police have to say about it?"

She snorted. "That they can't stop graffiti or have an officer sit outside our house."

"Did you tell them who you think did it and why?"

She gave me a duh look but refrained from voicing it. "Yes, of course I did, but it's our word against theirs. They're upstanding citizens, and we're dirty foreigners. Who do you think they believe? Never mind. Sorry. What brings you here, Twisted?"

"I just happened to be in the neighborhood riding when I saw you guys out here. How many times has this happened?"

"Four. Listen, I appreciate you stopping to check on us, but we need to get this covered up. The neighbors have complained to the homeowner's association about the last three times. The sooner we get it painted over, the sooner they'll go inside. I hope you have a nice day and enjoy your ride."

"Hang on a minute. I need to talk to you, but first, I need to send a text," I informed her as I took out my cell phone. I opened the app and sent a joint text to all three prospects.

Me: Any of you not busy right now, get yourself over to this address. Come ASAP. I've got a job for you.

I sent it and then sent the address. Atticus was the first to respond, quickly followed by Rune and Bodie. Rune was busy with club business, but the other two were available and promised to be here straight away. Satisfied with their responses, I got back to Zahirah. I had to fight not to check her out. It wouldn't be the thing to do, especially with her husband possibly popping up at any moment.

"Zahirah, I need to speak to your husband. Is he here today? If he's not, where can I find him? This is getting out of hand. I need to know what else he's done to put a stop to this."

I kept the disdain out of my tone. His efforts appeared to be either weak or he hadn't gone to the source. If this were my family, I'd be at the doors of the fuckers behind it. I was positive it was those three little pricks I'd run off. Was he at work, out running errands, or was he in the house? If he was the latter, he wasn't much of a man not to be out here doing this rather than his wife and kids. And what kind of man left his family outside to talk to an unknown man?

I saw the kids exchange glances. Zahirah was frowning as she answered, though not with the information I wanted. "Twisted, there's no need for you to get involved in our trouble. You did enough by chasing those boys off last week. Thank you again."

"You don't owe me thanks for that. It was nothing. Please, I can't leave you this way. I need to talk to your man," I insisted.

I crossed my arms so she would know I wasn't about to move until I did or she told me where to find him. I fought not to grin when I heard a tiny growl come from her. Damn, she was cute. I was about to prod her again when Arif spoke up. What he said took me by surprise.

"She doesn't have a husband. She's our aunt. Our parents are dead."

Instantly, my heart went out to the kids. It had to be tough losing your parents after having them part of your life, unless they were pieces of shit, then good riddance. I had to remind myself that the fact she had no husband didn't mean she didn't have a man. There was no way a beautiful woman like her was single.

"Sorry, I didn't know. Forgive me. Alright, I'd like to speak to your boyfriend then." I directed the first part to the kids and the last part to her.

"She doesn't have one of those either," he told me without batting an eye.

As she glared at him and his sister shushed him, I had to keep myself from shouting out my excitement at the news. Miracle of miracles, she was single. At that moment, I made a vow. I'd try my damndest to see if it was possible to become a part of her life. All my dreaming and fantasizing about her told me she was a woman I wanted to get to know, and I highly doubted it would just be in the biblical sense and only for a night or two. She was on my mind more than any woman ever in my life had been. She also wasn't the kind you fucked and then walked away from. She was a keeper. The thought of keeping her didn't make me want to run like the thought of being tied down had in the past. Instead, it gave me a warm feeling inside and a sense of contentment. Even the prospect of having her meant I'd have to take on two kids didn't scare me. Bring it on.

"Really, there's no need for you to…" her words petered off as the sound of a couple of bikes became louder.

I knew without looking it would be Bodie and Atticus. As they got closer, I turned to face the street. They came riding up to the curb behind my bike. As they shut theirs down, I noticed more neighbors were watching us. I resisted shouting and asking them what the hell they were staring at. Both men got off their bikes and came strolling up to me. I saw them eyeball the words on the door. Their mouths tightened.

"Hey, Twisted, we came as soon as we could. Whatcha need?" Atticus asked.

"Thanks. First, let me introduce you to Zahirah, her niece Aliya, and her nephew Arif. Ladies, Arif, this is Atticus and Bodie. They're prospects in my club, the Pagan Souls. I texted them to come help out. I promise they're safe."

Zahirah came forward, placing herself between the kids and them. She was cautious. I liked it, while at the same time, I hated the fact she felt the need to do it. "Hello. Twisted, I don't understand. What did you ask them here to help with? And what exactly are prospects?"

"Ma'am, I can answer the second one. It means we're trying to become members of the Pagan Souls club. While we work to earn our patch, we're called prospects, and we do anything a member asks of us, such as Twisted. While we'll do anything for any of them or their old ladies, it's a bigger deal if asked to by an officer like him," Atticus explained.

"An officer? Old lady? What?" she asked in confusion.

"Look at his cut, Ima . That's what his leather vest is called. It says he's the treasurer, which is an officer position. It makes him fourth in command, I think. An old lady is what they call their wives or longtime girlfriend. It's not an insult. Prospects are like al-khaddem," Arif explained excitedly. I wondered how he knew so much about clubs when his aunt didn't appear to.

"Whoa, what did he say? He called you Ima, and what was the other word he said?" I asked.

" Ima means aunt in Arabic. As for the other, al-khaddem means servants. He meant no disrespect," his sister said in a hurry. She was giving all three of us worried looks.

Bodie and Atticus groaned as I chuckled. "Well, we usually say a prospect is a gopher or lackey, but I like servants better. Wait until I tell the others. How do you know so much about an MC, buddy?" I asked him.

"I've watched a few biker shows on TV. Sorry, we don't really have a word for a gopher other than the animal kind in our language. Was I right about you being fourth in line?"

"Yes, you were. Don't believe everything you see or hear about clubs, though," I warned him.

"Thank you for not getting offended by his remarks. Back to why they're here." Zahirah got my attention again. As she did, I saw the two prospects checking her out. There were gleams of appreciation in their eyes as they did. I made sure they saw my face when I gave them the back the fuck off stare. Their quick nods told me they got my message.

"I messaged them like I said. Guys, I need you to paint over this sh–stuff here and make sure it's completely covered. When you get done, go back and grab some cameras. You know what, never mind that last bit. I'll go and see what Wire suggests will work best. Do you have a security system in the house?"

When the prospects heard what I wanted, they headed for the paint. Zahirah's mouth fell open, and the kids stared at me dumbfounded. When Bodie's hand landed on the can of paint, Zahirah snapped out of it. She went rushing over to them. She grabbed his arm and then just as quickly dropped it.

"I'm sorry. Please, there's no need for you to do this. We have it. Thank you, but no."

I went up to her and placed my hand on her back. She shivered. I hoped it wasn't in fear. I held it there because I needed to touch her in some way.

"Zahirah, they can have it done in no time, and it won't hurt them to do it. I need to talk to you about your security. Come over here with me. They won't stop unless I tell them to, and I don't plan on it."

She gave a hiss of displeasure, but I achieved what I wanted. She left them alone to follow me to the porch, away from the kids, who stayed with the prospects. I saw they were trying to take up the rollers, but my guys wouldn't allow it. She whirled to face me when we got there.

"I don't need you to paint our garage door, and I don't expect you to check out what security we have here! Again, thank you, but no. We're fine."

"No, you're not. They've tagged you four times. The cops aren't any help. Tell me, what did you do besides stop the kids from walking home?"

She gasped, and her hand reached up to touch her throat. "How do you know they're not walking home anymore? Are you spying on us?" The flash of uneasiness made me want to swear. The last thing I wanted to do was scare her.

"Love, we're not here to harm you in any way. I swear it. I've been worried, so yes, I've ridden along the route they walk home a couple of times since I last saw you. I wanted to be sure they were safe. I didn't see them, so I assumed it meant you were picking them up. I didn't think of those shits trashing your house, which I should've. I want to help. In order to do it, I need to know what you have already in place or what you've tried."

"Why do you care? Everyone else seems to think we deserve it. You saw what they wrote. We're terrorists in their eyes," she said stoically, but I felt her underlying pain.

"I don't believe everyone does, and those who do are ignorant fuckers. People like them deserve whatever they get. Now, tell me what you've done," I urged her.

I watched her struggle with what to do. I waited. Just as she was about to say something, I heard a loud whistle. Turning around, I saw Atticus jerking his head toward the street. Glancing past him, I saw a police car pulling up. What now? Taking her hand in mine, I walked to the driveway to wait for them to get out of the car. She came without protest.

Two officers got out and approached us. They gave us uneasy looks and had their hands near their guns. Of course, we couldn't get lucky and have Lieutenant Laramie as one of them. He was at least friendly and saw us in a better light than most cops. I hadn't personally met these two, though I'd seen them around town.

"How can we help you, Officers?" I asked them with a nod and a pleasant smile. I knew how to play nice until it was time to bring out the proverbial guns. Zahirah's hand squeezed mine. I smiled at her and gently squeezed it back.

"We received a complaint that there was a disturbance at this address," one of them said curtly. His name tag read Oliver .

I looked at them puzzled. "Really? Well, I hate to say it, but someone was pulling a prank on you. There's no disturbance here. Are you sure this is the correct address?"

"Yes, this is the right address. What do you call that on the door?" the other one asked acidly. His name tag read Ingram .

"Well, that's vandalism," I replied.

"Did you and your friends do it?" Oliver asked.

"No, they didn't. Why don't you worry about bothering the ones who did rather than the ones helping us to paint over it?" Zahirah snapped.

"Miss, we're here to help you. If these men are threatening you or something, just tell us," Ingram told her.

"Oh, that's rich. When I told the police about the boys who beat my nephew and tried to molest my niece, I was told it was my word against theirs, but now, if I say these men are harming us, you'll believe me! God, get the hell off my property. And tell whichever one of my neighbors who called you to mind their own damn business. They never see anything when I need their help, so they can keep ignoring us when we don't."

I heard Bodie choking back a laugh. Aliya and Arif were grinning. Zahirah appeared ready to spit fire at the cops. Atticus was watching them through narrowed eyes. I raised my brows at the officers.

"There's no need to cause a scene," Oliver warned her.

"I'm not. I'm telling you there's no problem, and I want you off my property."

"I think we should take a look around. Why don't you and the kids come inside with us?" Oliver added.

"You can come inside and look around when you show me a warrant. Until then, this is private property."

They weren't pleased with her defiance. I didn't want her putting another target on her and the kids. As much as I'd like to think the police wouldn't do it, you never knew. "Babe, there's no need to get upset. Officers, I have to ask you to please leave. You're upsetting my family. I know you understand how upsetting it is for my woman to see this written on our house. She spoke to the department about what happened to the kids. I wish it had been taken seriously." I wanted them to think I lived here, too.

"We have no idea about any complaint, but if you'd come down to the department, we can talk about it," Ingram offered. He no doubt wanted a reason to get us there and to detain us. No thanks.

"Nope, sorry, we don't have time. As you can see, we've got painting to do and then family time. My club will be making sure this doesn't happen again."

"What's your name? I didn't know a Pagan lived here," Ingram said suspiciously.

"The name is Twisted, and I've just moved in."

"What's your real name?" he asked.

"I go by Twisted. Ask anyone around town, and they'll know who you're talking about. In fact, why don't you ask Lieutenant Laramie? He can vouch for me."

They both stiffened when they heard the name of one of their own peers and one who outranked them. After exchanging uneasy glances, they began to ease back toward their car.

"Well, if you need anything, just let us know. Have a good day," Oliver said before getting back in the car. Ingram didn't say a word. In no time, they were disappearing down the street.

Once they were out of sight, Zahirah rounded on me. "Do you mind telling me what all that was about?"

"I will, but we need to go into the house and not give your concerned neighbors more of a show."

She jerked as if she just recalled them, and then she smiled and nodded. Yelling over her shoulder to the kids, she walked slowly toward the door. "Kids, stay out here and help Bodie and Atticus paint. I insist. I need to talk to Twisted."

"Guys, they can help you fetch stuff, but I want you to do the bulk of it," I told the prospects.

"Sure thing, Twisted. We'll keep an eye on the kids and get this knocked out," Atticus promised.

I saw Zahirah hesitate for a moment. I pressed my hand to her lower back as I whispered, "They'll be totally safe, I promise. I don't think they need to hear everything we need to discuss. Do you?"

She shook her head and then resumed walking. After I opened and closed the door behind us, I was busy working out what I was gonna do next. One thing was for sure. I'd made a claim not only in front of the prospects but also the police and her neighbors. It was one I more than wanted, and I'd do everything in my power to make it real.

Inside, she took me to the kitchen. I took in the house as she led me there. It was a mix of modern American, I guess you'd call it, and the richness of her Middle Eastern culture. There was darker wood, rich colors in the fabrics, and more. I found it warm and inviting. There was a scent in the air, which I inhaled deeply. I had no idea what it was, but I liked it. She gestured for me to take a seat at the table as she went to the fridge. I remained standing.

"Please, have a seat. Would you like something to drink? I'm sorry, but I only have water or milk that's American. I don't suppose you've ever had limonana or rumman, have you?"

"I haven't had those. Mind if I ask what they are?"

"Limonana is our version of lemonade with mint in it. Rumman is pomegranate juice with a pinch of salt and lemon. They're both popular drinks back home, especially in the summer. We drink them all year round here. I have Turkish coffee or hot tea if you prefer."

"Well, I think I'll try the limonana if you don't mind, though the others sound delicious too. Can I help you fix them?"

"No, I've got it. Please, sit and relax."

I did as she asked but watched as she moved gracefully around the kitchen. She was in and out of cabinets, and I noted she was taking out more than glasses. When she started to the table a few minutes later, she had a filled tray in her hands. I jumped up and hurried over, taking it from her. She gave me a startled look as I carried it the rest of the way. On it were two glasses of the limonana, a plate with nuts and something else, and another plate with something I did recognize. It was baklava.

There were two smaller empty plates on the tray as well. I put it down and then pulled out a chair for her. She slowly sat down like she'd never had a man do any of this for her. I hoped I wasn't offending her culture, but here, a man carried things, opened the door, and pulled out chairs for women, or they should. As I sat down, she put a glass in front of me and placed items on a plate before handing it to me.

"I'm not sure if you like any of these or not. If not, don't feel you must try them. Where I come from, it's rude not to offer guests food and drink."

"This looks like baklava, which I love. This other appears to be nuts. I'm not too sure what this is, but I'm game to try anything once. Do you mind if I ask where you're from?"

"Yes, those are sugar-coated nuts and sweet dates. As for where I'm from, it's called Qatar."

"Cutter? Where's that?"

"You probably heard it pronounced Katar, Q-A-T-A-R."

"Oh, yeah, I've heard of it but not pronounced the right way it appears," I admitted.

She nodded and gestured for me to try the drink and food. I took a sip first. I grinned at the taste. The mint with the lemon was refreshing. After that, I took a bite of the baklava, then the nuts and dates. They were all sweet and tasted great. I hummed in appreciation. She smiled.

"You'll never get me to leave if this is what you serve. It's all delicious. Don't tell the other two about this, or they'll never get any work done, and they'll be in here begging."

She laughed, then took a sip of her drink. We ate and drank in silence for a couple of minutes before I knew I had to get to the point. I leaned back in my chair. "Zahirah, we need to talk about your visit to the cops, those boys, and your safety."

She sighed, then nodded. "Okay, what do you want to know?"

"Everything. Tell me what you did after I left the other day."