Biker's Bride (Demons MC) - Page 128

Rex looked around, but we couldn’t find him. He grabbed a nearby man, a heavyset guy with a closely trimmed beard, and said something in his ear. The guy nodded at Rex, grabbed a few more men, and ran up the stairs. I noticed that certain groups of men were dragging others outside, either up into the bar or out through the loading bay. Spud and Clutch were among the men being dragged. I didn’t know what was happening to them, and I didn’t want to know. Whatever it was, those two pig-faced pieces of shit deserved it.

“Did you just order them?” I asked.

Rex shrugged. “Not really. I only suggested they find Michael before he gets away.”

I laughed and kissed him again.

He grimaced. “Let’s get the fuck out of here,” he said.

“And never look the fuck back,” I said. He grinned at me. I helped him hobble toward the stairs, up into the bar, and out the front door into the city I felt like we owned, our personal paradise of concrete and people and noise. We walked slowly, breathing in the night and each other, happy to be together, and happy to be free. Rex was his own person, and I was ready to find out who that new man was going to be. I was happy, and I felt more alive than I ever imagined possible, the entire night alive and buzzing, alive with energy and sound, alive in my core and my heart, alive with the heat of summer, alive with the body of the man I wanted to be around forever, alive with love and lust and more, alive with sweat and blood and our future and our freedom, more alive, more.

EPILOGUE

I reached up and gripped the rough cliff face. I felt the sweat rolling down my back as my muscles flexed along my forearms, getting a decent grip on the tiny cracks in the rock. My fingers dug in, and I slowly shifted my weight upwards, reaching with my right foot and left arm. I found another small ledge with my foot, dug it in, and then pushed myself upwards.

In the city, there was nothing to climb other than brick façades and crumbling fire escapes. I felt the wind whip through my hair, and my eyes ran down the tattoos along my arms, no longer as meaningful as they once were. Back then, before my life changed, each one held something, a remembered moment in time or a warning to those looking at me. I didn’t hate the tattoos or regret them, but out there in Colorado, far away from anything that resembled my former life, in the clean Western air thousands of feet above the ground, they were just ink on skin, and nothing more.

“How’s it going?” I called out. I adjusted my grip with my right hand and scanned the rock above me. I wasn’t far from the top.

“Fine, and stop asking,” Darcy called out below me. I risked a glance down to make sure she really was fine, and saw her expertly pull herself up the sheer cliff face, body wrapped in the safety harness and rope system we used. The last spike was punched into the wall, and we were on the final climb of the day.

I felt a bit dizzy taking in the drop. Everyone told me not to look down, but I couldn’t help it. If she was below me, I’d always look down. The trees looked like green blobs thousands of feet away, and I could make out roads and streams in the distance. It was unlike anything I had ever seen in Philadelphia, and it made me feel something I couldn’t quite express. I couldn’t believe we had only been climbing for a few months and were already tackling such difficult walls, but Darcy was an incredible competitor and pretty damned athletic, as it turned out. She had a hunger for the thrill, almost as much as I did. I savored the fear that coursed through my veins and gave me the final strength I needed to keep pushing further.

After the fight, I was nearly dead. I finally caved and saw a doctor, which was apparently paid for by Shane Green. I had three broken ribs, a punctured lung, a broken nose, bruising all over the place, and a lacerated throat. The guy didn’t ask questions, and I guessed there was some extra money flowing his way to keep his mouth shut. He told me that my fighting days were probably over, at least for a while. I agreed. For a while.

I reached up again, grabbed another rough edge, and pulled myself up. My feet easily found purchase, and I paused a second, mere feet from our goal. I breathed deeply, savoring the clean smell that flowed into my lungs, and exhaled. The sun was bright and low and the short breeze was cool against my damp skin. I loved the outdoors, as it turned out, and found it was easier to deal with my addictions out in the clean space of the West. I couldn’t say why that was, but I found my demons were quieter.

Tags: B.B. Hamel Dark
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