Chapter 8

Amy

I wake up the next morning feeling refreshed and raring to go. Well, refreshed, at least—I’m still a bit sore. I was asleep when Venom came back last night, he left me a sweet note this morning, promising that he’ll catch up with me later and that he didn’t want to wake me. I get dressed and go downstairs looking for food. Ven’s note says he’s going to pick up some groceries, but in the meantime, I can help myself in the communal kitchen. I get the prospect behind the bar to pour me an orange juice, then I sit down at one of the tables and type out a message to my employer. I had the weekend off anyway, but I let him know that my injuries were more substantial than I though and I need to take a leave of absence for a week or so. I know Venom didn’t want me going back to the coffee shop and said I could work at the clubhouse bar to keep safe, but I’m not convinced that’s necessary. Asking for some personal days will give me a chance to think it all over. I sip my juice as I wait for a reply.

While I wait, I unzip the property cut as it feels a little tight across my bruised rib cage. Nothing’s broken so it should heal up quickly, I swallow a couple of pain pills and wait for them to kick in.

Someone walks towards me, and I hear her sneer, “We all saw your property cut. There’s no need to preen.”

I turn around to see a blonde. She’s wearing tight, shiny, pleather booty shorts, and a t-shirt that shows off her midriff. All the club girls dress so outlandishly here, like they’re going out night clubbing, rather than it being nine in the morning on a Saturday.

I can’t help asking, “Are you always like this or only before you’ve had your caffeine fix?”

One of the prospects speaks up. “Good morning, Brittany. Didn’t you just come off a ban for talking shit to one of the old ladies?”

“My business isn’t your business, prospect,” she hisses at him.

“Unless you’re looking to get reported, slow your roll and have a seat.” When she eases down onto one of the bar stools, he asks, “What ya drinking this morning?”

“A gin and coke.”

“One coke coming right up because you know we don’t start serving alcohol until eleven and I’m not old enough to pour drinks.”

Brittany grumbles, “Damn, you’re getting to be a smartass. When you finally get patched in, I’m not sleeping with you.”

“Of course not. You’d have to be picked by me and that’s never going to happen in a million years.”

“What the hell is your problem, Evan? What have I ever done to you for you to be on my case constantly?”

“You’re arrogant enough to shit talk the old ladies that I’m tasked with looking out for when their men are out on a job. I’d have to be pretty ignorant not to speak up.”

She leans over and flashes the younger man a sexy smile, “Don’t be that way, Evan. You know I’ve always liked you.”

He snorts a laugh, “Don’t even try to play me, Brittany. My old man would literally throw us both out if I hooked up with you.”

Her saccharine voice turns cold in an instant. “You are going to die a virgin, Evan. And it’s going to be because your daddy’s a preacher man.”

He just laughs at her belittling words. “You know I already have a girlfriend. I bring her around sometimes.”

“Yeah, she’s a cute little thing.” Brittany leans on the bar and sips her coke. “The two of you look good together. Don’t go complaining to your dad about me. The last thing in the world I need is Rigs on my ass, or worse that mother of yours.”

He stops dead in his tracks, throws the towel he’s wiping the counter with down, and glares at her.

This beautiful club girl immediately began backtracking, “I didn’t mean anything by that. We both know your mom has balls of solid brass. She’s tiny but mighty, if you know what I mean. I respect her and your dad for finding all those missing kids.”

Evan frowns at her, “I know. I was one of those kids, remember?”

Another female voice speaks from behind us. “Britt, you should just stop while you’re ahead. Why do you even open your mouth before you’ve had a good strong dose of caffeine is beyond my ability to reason.”

Brittany spins around in her chair and gushes, “Stephanie. I didn’t see you, come join us.” Then she stammers, “How long have you been standing there? How much did you hear?”

“Enough to know you’re going the right way for a perma-ban if you keep it up.” She smirks playfully at Brittany and sits on the other side of me. Without her even asking, Evan slides a nice cold cranberry juice over to her with a straw.

The woman turns and holds out her hand. “My name is Stephanie and I’m one of the club girls, like Brittany. I heard you snagged the last good brother.”

Brittany snorts a laugh. But it’s Evan who gestures to himself with one hand. “I’m standing right here. I’m good too.”

Stephanie just grins at him. “Maybe in five years’ time, kiddo. Anyway, you’re technically still a prospect and not a brother. Don’t worry, your time will come and when it does, you’ll be the best brother in the club.”

Evan picks the towel up off the bar and grins at her. “Tell more about how amazing I am.”

Stephanie shakes her head. “You’re not even eighteen and you already have girlfriend to stroke your ego. You don’t need me. And Brittany is right. The two of you look like you were made for each other.”

Evan’s face lights up like Christmas morning. That’s about the time Ven walks through the front door. He’s looking all kinds of handsome in his cut and faded jeans.

Ven makes a beeline for us and jerks his chin at Evan. “The club girls chatting you up, Evan? You know not to believe a damn thing they say. They’ll flatter the pants right off you if you’re not careful.

Brittany smirks. “You should know. We’ve flattered your pants off hundreds of times.”

I freeze in place as the implications of her words settle in. These two beautiful women have had sex with my new protector hundreds of times, if what they’re saying is true. Although I know that I’m his fake old lady and wearing his cut simply for the safety it affords me, something about him just randomly fucking club girls that love to point out that they’ve been with him in front of his supposed old lady, rubs me the wrong way.

Ven just shakes his head. “MCs having club girls is one of the oldest biker traditions. Fucking club girls is always secondary to the brotherhood and every damn thing else about MC life. The two of you would do good to remember that.”

The girls just shoot him a disgruntled look and say nothing. They’re disrespecting me and the prospect behind the bar. He’s disrespecting them. Is this what MC life is all about? Someone constantly disrespecting whoever is lower in the pecking order. I glance away from the whole sordid situation and gaze out the window. I was in such a good mood when I woke up this morning, but now I feel like someone’s burst my bubble.

I have to remind myself that I’m just here for the protection their club offered, and help in finding my mom, nothing more. I’m seeing Ven in a new light and can’t decide if he’s really like this, or just playing the part he’s expected to play as fully patched member of the Savage Legion MC.

He holds out his hand to me. “Come with me, sweetheart. We need to talk about your mom. We’ll talk over breakfast.”

I hesitate for a brief moment before putting my hand in his and allowing him to walk out the door with me. I’m not sure what I expect, but he leads me over to his Harley. It’s a big, beautiful bike with lots of chrome that reflects the sunlight.

He hands me a spare helmet and helps me strap it on before straddling the motorbike and patting the seat behind him. I notice that he didn’t ask if I was okay riding on his bike.

That’s when it hits me like a ton of bricks. I’m supposed to be his old lady. I’m even wearing his property cut. It’s expected that I ride on the back of his bike. I push aside any misgivings and awkwardly climb on and slide my hands around his waist.

Once I’m sat there with my breasts pressed against his back, I hate how right and wonderful it feels being close to him like this. Truth be told, I’m excited to be on the back of his bike, the one parked outside my coffee shops every morning for all those weeks. I used to drive to work hoping he’d be waiting there for me, and he never once disappointed me.

He glances over his shoulder, and we make eye contact. His gaze is steady and strong. “You ready to ride?”

Oh, this is him asking, maybe a little late but not after the fact. A slight smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. “Yeah, I’m as ready as I’ll ever be, hot stuff.” I’ve got to try out terms of endearment to make our fake relationship seem more believable.

His gaze turns warm for a second before he straps his helmet on and starts the engine. He revs the bike, and it vibrates so hard I can feel it in my bones.

When my hands tighten around his waist, Ven laughs and takes off, slowly at first and then picking up speed as we pull onto the interstate. Suddenly, all my angst about the club girls and how cold he was to them drifts away. It’s not my job to judge him after all. That would be considered looking a gift horse in the mouth.

I hug Ven tighter because he’s the only person in this whole town who took an interest in me, and the moment he found out my mom was missing, he jumped into action to help me find her. I don’t know if that means he’s just a good man by nature, or if he’s interested in me. Whatever his reason, it doesn’t matter. There is nothing I won’t do to bring my mom home safely.

I feel a warmth in my gut at the thought that maybe he is interested in me. In the weeks I’ve known him, I’ve developed quite a crush on this big, sexy biker.

Though, the thought of jumping his bones seems inappropriate because all my time and energy should be spent looking for my mother, not on thinking about steamy sex with potentially unavailable guys. But when I hold him tighter, feeling his muscles ripple when he moves slightly to maneuver the motorcycle, it’s hard not to think about how his muscled body would look on top of me. It’s been ages since I’ve been with a man. Most of my life for the past few years has been taken up trying to get my photography studio off the ground and taking care of my mom. The thought of being with Ven flips all the right switches for me. This big biker with a heart of gold is handsome, ripped, and is obsessed with protecting me.

If he showed any hints of wanting to be with me, I wouldn’t turn him away. Feeling his warm body against me as I hold on tight, my imagination runs wild with what it would be like to see him naked, touch him and wrap my hand around his thick cock.

I find myself squeezing my legs around his hips without meaning to. He clearly takes this to mean I’m scared. He slows down slightly and brings one hand back to rest momentarily on my thigh. My heart beats faster as I realize he intends this to be a soothing gesture to help me calm down. It’s one of the sweetest things anyone’s ever done for me and makes me like him even more.

I try and keep my mind away from thinking dirty thoughts about this hot biker, because while the idea of sex with Ven is a powerfully alluring fantasy, in reality he probably won’t ask, because he’s a decent man doing a good deed, I tell myself.

***

He takes me for a ride down the coast to a small, secluded restaurant. He pulls up and I jump off the bike and remove my helmet to get a view of the place. The sign above the door says, ‘The Serpent’s Den’ and there’s an image of a snake entwined around a long-stemmed rose making up the letter ‘T’. I’m not sure what to make of it, there’s window boxes overflowing with flowers, and considering the gray stone building is nestled amongst a lush landscape of winding paths, overhanging trees, and flowering bushes, it looks like something out of a fairytale. I shade my eyes from the morning sun to get a better look at the details.

“This place is absolutely gorgeous,” I gush, wishing I still had my trusty old camera.

Ven flashes me a pleased grin, grabs my hand and leads me into the restaurant. We pass a huge sandy-colored dog sleeping peacefully on a rug on the front porch. Inside it’s all red and white checkered tablecloths and beautiful vintage wall art. I don’t know what to make of the name of the restaurant or the eclectic theme. There’s something very European about it or like it’s from days gone by.

Ven doesn’t wait for someone to seat us. Instead, he boldly walks right past the sign that says closed and pulls out a chair at a corner table with a view of the meandering rose bushes out the window. I was about to ask him if we shouldn’t wait to be seated, but suddenly, we hear a loud voice saying, “I tell zis already. I want a seeley mattrees delivered, tout de suite .” Her French accent is so thick I can only make out half of what she’s saying.

There’s a brief pause as she walks into the room and begins fussing over a flower arrangement. The next minute she starts yelling again. “Non, that ees not what I say. You non lissen. I need a seeley mattrees, you know, for zee sleep.” About that time she catches sight of Ven, and her expression changes to relief.

She rushes over to him and hands him her cell phone, speaking in rapid-fire French, “ Parle leur pour moi, mon petit Serp .”

He grabs the phone and states lightly, “Yeah, I’ll talk to them for you.”

Ven verifies who he’s talking to and then he tells them, “She obviously wants a Sealy mattress. Yeah. Make it queen-size.” He pauses again before saying, “No delivery. I’m with the Savage Legion MC. I’ll send a couple of our prospects to pick it up. They’ll put it on our club credit card.”

The moment he ends the call, she grabs his head and joyfully kisses him on both cheeks, before enveloping him in her arms. At first, I don’t know what to make of the whole situation. The woman is clearly a little older than Ven, not by much though. She’s got long, light brown hair and is wearing a beautiful floral sundress.

When I’m fairly certain she’s cutting off his airway, he pulls back and looks up at her. “That’s enough hugging for one day, Maman.”

My flash of jealousy evaporates, and I can’t help but smile that he’s using the French word for mom. But then I do a double take, seeing them side-by-side I can see a slight resemblance, this woman is his actual mother. She’s so small and delicate compared to Ven. He’s easily three times her size and I can’t reconcile the fact that this endearingly sweet French woman gave birth to a big strapping biker like Ven.

Then everything starts clicking into place. Ven is short for Venom, and there’s the snake on the restaurant sign. I wonder if the family has a thing about serpents, there has got to be a story there. I don’t ask though. I wait for him to introduce us.

His mother is all doting smiles and petting his hair. “You came to see your mother today, mon petit Serp ?”

“I came to get fed and I brought a friend.” Glancing at me, he says, “This my mom, Melusine.” Gesturing to me he tells his mother, “Maman, this is Amy.”

She glances at me, and her mouth falls open. “You have taken a lady friend and not told me?”

“No, Maman. She’s not my girlfriend. I’m just protecting her while we try to find her mother. We think she’s been abducted.”

The woman jerks to attention, as a multitude of expressions move across her face in rapid succession. Then she’s fawning on me too. “Oh, you poor girl. Was it them who hurt you? Your poor face looks like it hurts.”

“I’m fine, Melusine. My top priority is to find my mom,” I tell her.

“Don’t you worry. My boy will find your mother. Trust me on this,” she pats me on the shoulder and gives me a kindly smile, “And call me, Meli, everyone else does.”

She shouts at someone to bring food and drops down into the chair between us. The table is round, so Ven and I are sitting across from one another, and she’s on the outside, leaving the free chair behind the table. Ven’s mother is something else. She flips open a large white napkin and spreads it across her lap. Before I can get my head around what’s going on, a younger woman comes running out with a tray of croissants, fruit, and coffee.

I wonder for a moment if we’re eating the breakfast his mother had made for herself. The restaurant isn’t open after all. Or maybe this is what they were preparing for brunch?

Ven’s asks, “Did Barley chew up your mattress again?”

Meli gives him a slight nod as she makes her coffee. I follow suit, putting milk and sugar into mine, I notice the milk is warm and wonder if this is a French thing. His mother gestures to the carafe. “It is good, strong coffee, just like you love.”

When he starts pouring coffee into his cup, his mother uses little silver tongs to place a croissant on our plates and gives us each a small dish of fresh fruit. When it’s all done, she says, “Now, tell me everything. I do so love a mystery.”

Ven seems uncomfortable, like he’s about to tell her my life’s greatest trauma is not a mystery for her to logic her way through. But there’s something about the tone of her voice, a hardness that’s totally out of character with the rest of her personality. It alerts me that she means business, so I jump right in and give her the short version of the story, even how Ven had to save me from getting roughed up by the farmhands.

The more I tell her, the angrier she gets. I can tell she’s fuming because she stops eating and drinking her coffee.

Ven finally jumps into the conversation. “I tracked down those farmhands last night.”

“Please tell me you didn’t kill them,” I say before I think.

Both Ven and Meli turn to look at me with the same odd expression on their faces. Ven snorts a laugh. “No, but I wanted to in the worst fucking way. Rage and I gave them a little taste of what they’ve been dishing out and warned them that if I had to pay them another visit it would be castration time.”

Ven’s mother tosses him a disapproving look. “You wouldn’t!”

Ven raises his eyebrow, “I hope that scared them straight, because the thought of handing their junk makes me want to puke my spleen up.”

His mother looks at him over the rim of her cup and makes a tutting sound, before taking a sip of her coffee and murmurs, “No puking of spleens. There are much better ways to solve such problems. Permanent ways, like we have resorted to in the past.” I notice that her French accent diminishes a bit when she’s calm. It’s interesting how that works.

Just when my curiosity is on the upswing, he taps his lips for her to shut up talking about his personal business. Damn, so many secrets. I’m dying to uncover them all, but right now the priority is on finding my mom.

We’d not had much of a chance to talk since he returned, and I was curious what he had found out, “So, they didn’t say if my mom was at the farm or if my grandfather had moved her?”

“Not a word. I had a little talk with the youngest of the brothers and he claims they don’t tell him anything.”

“What brothers?” I ask.

Ven explains, “Remember how you told me that your grandfather has four farmhands that run together? The youngest one, Dan, admitted to me that they’re half-brothers. He said they’re all your grandfather’s but have different mothers. It’s the reason they don’t look a lot alike.”

“What? They’re my uncles?”

Ven nods.

I digest that little nugget of information. “I never knew he had any other children. I know he remarried, but he and my step-grandmother didn’t have kids. I hope he didn’t cheat on her. The first I saw of the farmhands was when she got sick, and they showed up. I figured as he was looking after her, he needed more hands to work the land.”

“What do you know about the fourth one, Edmund? He wasn’t with the three amigos last night,” Ven asks.

I speak up, “I only met him a handful of times when I was visiting my step-grandmother. There was something I didn’t like about him, he sticks to my grandfather like glue. He was always whispering some kind of toxic shit in his ear. I can tell because my grandfather gets meaner after talking to him about pretty much anything.”

Meli adds, “This Edmund is the sly one. Follow him, mon chéri . He’ll lead you to the answers you seek.”

Ven runs one hand through his hair. “I think you might be right about that, Maman. Until another clue turns up, keeping eyes on Edmund and that farm is our only real option.”

“I can help,” I chime in, because nothing and nobody is going to keep me from searching for my mom.

Ven’s expression shuts down almost immediately, “I don’t want you near them.”

His mother’s voice drops to not quite a whisper. “You know better than most, that women are clever, resourceful beings that you dare not leave behind during times of trouble. If she cannot protect herself, you teach her. If she wants to help, let her.”

He swallows thickly, nodding to his mother. “Yes, Maman.”