Biker Saviour: The Lost Souls MC Series

  I nod once and move around him in the direction of my room and then it hits me. I understand that she feels she can’t and probably, doesn’t want to talk to me right now. For one, I’ve locked her in a room for days on end and secondly, her eyes are completely open to my lifestyle and she doesn’t know how to act around me. If she’s ready to talk and not to me, I’d rather she still did to someone.

  I turn back around and call out. Ricky stops at the top of the stairs and faces me.

  “You got more out of her today than I probably ever have. If…” I can’t help pausing, asking for help is beyond me, but to get her back to her normal self, I will swallow my pride and ask.

  “If you have time or whatever, maybe you could check on her. See if she talks some more?”

  I don’t like the smile that covers his face and it makes me question myself.

  “Sure.”

  It’s the first time I’ve felt like I’ve taken a step in the right direction with Kyla since Sally brought her here and I hope it doesn’t come back to fuck me in the ass.

  I carry on to my room and lock the door behind me. The one place that is mine and has been for thirty years. For a split second, I scan the photos I have accumulated over the years of Kyla and Sally and of them both together and with no hesitation of doubt, I know it turned out like this because of me.

  I dig out my cell and hit number one on the speed dial. It rings out three times before she answers.

  “Hello, Thomas.”

  I can hear the smile in her voice, I can picture it as she speaks into the phone. Fleeting moments like this I lock away and keep to myself.

  “Sally.”

  “Are you calling to update me or because you wanted to say hi?” she asks.

  “A bit of both, is that okay?”

  Her soft chuckle reverberates down the phone, sounding like sunshine in the height of summer.

  “You know you can call whenever you want, you have been for years.”

  Calling her and speaking to her always feels like the first time, the feeling never gets old or goes away.

  “Kyla spoke to one of the brothers today,” I tell her.

  “You let someone in her room?”

  “Things got out of hand a little, no need to worry, it’s all good now. She told him why she started using.”

  The line goes quiet, I can hear shuffling and then silence. I presume she wanted to be sat down to hear this.

  “And?”

  “From what I’ve been told, she wanted to be free. She liked the escape and didn’t know she had a problem until she couldn’t stop.”

  Sally’s shaky breath matches my own and she asks, “I thought it was us, our arrangement that messed her up,” she admits.

  “Not this time, darlin’. She tried it, she liked it and it ended up controlling her. Simple as that,” I assure her.

  “I feel bad for saying it, even thinking it but I’m glad it’s not because of us. I was beginning to believe it was our fault.”

  I sit up straight and hold my cell closer to my ear, not that it makes a difference. I want and need her to hear and believe my words.

  “This is not your fault. This is on Kyla, not you. Not for one second. It was her decision to use, you did everything you could to help her, even bring her here when I know how you feel about the place. I promised you I’d bring our daughter back and I will, and when she’s back she can tell you herself you’re not to blame. You raised her right and I’m honoured you’re the mother of my child. Always will be.”

  “Oh Thomas,” she sniffles, “How can you be so far away yet make me feel like you’re right here next to me?”

  “No matter where I am, I’m always with you. Always.”

  Unspoken words tumble between us and it begins to piss me off.

  “I should go, I’m working the night shift tonight.”

  “Sure, be safe and I’ll call tomorrow.”

  I wait for her to hang up first and throw the cell on the bed beside me.

  If I put my parents through this, they would have thrown my ass out of the house for bringing shame on the good family name. They would rather tell people I died than admit to the church and the almighty their parenting had led me to a life of drugs. If my father couldn’t have beaten it out of me, I would’ve been out casted. Fuck that shit, time to make Kyla’s dinner. The more she eats, the healthier she looks and the sooner we can put this behind us.

  Kyla

  Being stuck in this room is like heaven and hell. Hell because while I know I’m not a prisoner, it certainly feels like it and heaven, because while my body hurts like a bitch, I know deep down my father isn’t going to let me out of this room until I’m clean and I may not want to admit it at the moment, I know it is the only way I’m going to get my life back.

  It’s hard to show him my gratitude when all I want to do is scream and shout at him. Ricky told me he would see about getting me out of here for a while, I pray he keeps his word and makes it happen. I need to get out of this room soon or I’m going to go crazy.

  Nine days.

  Two hundred and sixteen hours.

  That’s how long it has been since my last hit. It’s the longest I’ve gone without since I first tried the drug that’s changed my life forever.

  Nine days I have been cooped up with only leaving the room once for a total of five minutes, not even that.

  Each day different men dressed in leather and jeans bring me food, wait for me to eat then disappear behind the golden freaking door.

  Earlier today the huge, bald, tattooed guy drew the lucky straw and brought my lunch. Meal times are like clockwork around here. Breakfast at nine, lunch at one and dinner at six. The little clock on the wall says five minutes to six. Five minutes until the next round of disgust and pity are passed my way.

  The five minutes pass and it feels like an eternity. The usual sounds from the door lock rattles and when my father steps in holding yet another tray of soup and a glass of fucking orange juice, something inside me snaps.

  I don’t move from the bed and he puts the tray on my lap. I have come to hate the smell of tomato soup.

  “I don’t want your fucking soup,” I yell, flipping the tray and throwing the bowl across the room. Soup splatters everywhere, staining the carpet and wall.

  My ever silent fucking father stands where he is and watches me in silence.

  “Leave me alone,” I yell, trying to get a reaction out of him.

  He crosses the room ignoring me and picks the tray up. Jumping off the bed, I grab the bowl and launch it out the door and into the hallway.

  “Get out and leave me alone,” I repeat.

  “I’ll leave you alone when I get my daughter back. We’ll start with the way my daughter used to bathe regularly,” he snaps, turning on me.

  I watch him disappear into the bathroom and listen to the sound of the water running. He comes back into the room and begins rooting through my pile of clothes.

  “Get in there and scrub yourself, I’ve seen homeless men cleaner than you,” he grunts, throwing clean pants and a camisole on the bed.

  “No.”

  “Get in the fucking shower,” his voice is ugly and sneering.

  “I don’t want to,” I scream at him.

  His body flips around so fast I barely see him turn at all. He’s standing in front of me, leaving me no room to move around him.

  Being here with him in this place has opened my eyes to him.

  He is intimidating and scares me, yet he is still my father and the man I’ve known all my life.

  “Don’t think I won’t throw you in there myself,” he threatens.

  “Get away from me,” I scream, pushing at his chest.

  It’s like trying to move a mountain.

  The louder I scream the less he pays attention.

  He grabs my arm and starts to drag me towards the bathroom, I dig my heels into the carpet but it’s no good. It’s like I weigh nothing to him.

  “Let me go,??
? I shout so loud it scratches my throat red raw.

  “What’s going on in here?”

  I spin around to see Ricky standing in the doorway.

  My dad loosens his grip and I take advantage before he realises. As soon as I’m free, I run to Ricky and hide behind him. It’s immature I know, but I’d rather this than my dad throwing me in the shower.

  Holding onto the back of his cut, I mirror his movements as he tries to look around to see what I’m doing.

  “He’s not going to stop me,” my father warns me.

  Ricky holds his hands up in defence completely unaware of what he has walked in on.

  “What’s going on?” he asks again.

  “She’s getting in the shower, that’s what’s going on.”

  “No, I’m not,” I tell them both.

  I’ll shower when I fucking want to, not when I’m told to like a child.

  I frantically watch the scene between Ricky and my dad when before I know it, Ricky is swivelling around and throwing me over his shoulder.

  “Let me go,” I yell at his ass.

  The bathroom is full of steam and I glimpse my dad leave the room before I’m thrown into the shower cubical.

  I struggle to my feet and back away from him, he takes his leather cut off and I take my chance to push past him.

  Using one hand he pushes me back against the wall and steps into the shower with me, not caring that he is still wearing his shirt, jeans and boots.

  Still holding me back one handed, he uses his other hand to rip the buttons open on my shirt and drag it down and off my shoulders. Harshly, he pulls it off and throws it behind him.

  “What are you doing?” I shriek, wondering if he’s going to go the whole nine yards and strip me out of my underwear too.

  “Your dad is right, you fuckin’ stink. If you won’t do it, I will. Unless you want your father back in here to wash you?”

  These people are out of their heads with craziness. Who does this?

  Hot, steaming water hits me and I barely feel the burn under his intense gaze. His hand is still on my chest keeping me back and it burns me deeper than the water. I stop resisting him and his eyes bore into mine.

  He reaches out for the body wash, flicks the top open and squirts it all over me.

  “Wash yourself.”

  I stand there staring at him. This can’t be happening. I can’t shower in front of him.

  He hisses through his teeth and keeps his eyes trained on me. I’m completely infatuated with his gaze that I don’t see him move. His hand travels over my stomach, a part of me might enjoy it if weren’t for the embarrassment. I slap his hand away and take over.

  “You don’t have to stay,” I tell him, stubbornly.

  “Less talking, more washing.”

  He watches my every movement and I thank the lord he didn’t strip me completely.

  After rinsing the soap out of my hair, he thrusts the shampoo bottle at me.

  “Wash it again, God knows it fuckin’ needs it.”

  Narrowing my eyes at him, I take it and does as he says. I would say he asked but it was more like an order.

  Every stroke I make, I can feel the soap cleansing me in a way I didn’t think it could. It cleans, but it’s doing more than that for me tonight.

  With the last of the bubbles floating down the plug hole he shuts the water off and takes hold of my arm.

  As soon as I step out of the cubical the cold air hits me and goose pimples cover my skin.

  Without taking his hand off me he reaches for the towel and only then does he let me go so he can wrap me in it.

  Following him back into the bedroom, he points to the bed.

  “Are you going to get dressed or do I need to do that as well?” he asks, looking at the clothes laid out on the bed.

  I’m tempted to feel his hands on me again but instead, I shake my head.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “When your dad comes back in you’re going to apologise for throwing your dinner at the wall,” he tells me.

  “Why would I do that?” I ask, towelling my hair.

  “Cause I fucking told you too and it’s the right thing to do.”

  And right on cue, my father walks in holding another tray of dinner. Ricky raises his eyebrows and waits for me to do as he says.

  “Eat this and then I’ll clean up your mess,” my dad grunts, not making eye contact with me.

  Pulling the towel around me tighter, I know I have to do the right thing.

  “I’ll clean it up and I’m sorry for throwing a tantrum.”

  He stops picking up the bowl and spoon and stares at me. I’ve surprised him, I suppose there is a first time for everything.

  “Okay then, I’ll be back when you’ve eaten.”

  He leaves the room quickly, leaving me alone with Ricky again.

  “Get dressed and eat, you’ll feel much better when you do.”

  He then turns and leaves too. I slip into an oversized t-shirt I found in the chest of drawers earlier and sit on the bed, spooning the fresh bowl of soup into my mouth before anyone comes back in.

  I feel like I have shed pounds after showering away the last few weeks of grime and wonder how I let myself get that bad. I know my dad is trying to help me and a slice of me wants the help, but the rest of me thinks it’s all a waste of time.

  Pope

  I don’t know whether I want to smash his face in or shake his hand. He took control and threw her in the shower and when she got out she looked more like the daughter I once knew.

  For each thing I want to punch him for I can’t because he has brought a piece of my daughter back to me.

  I hate the fact he’s now seen her in the shower and I hate the fact he was the one to get her to apologise. I didn’t miss his push to get her to say she was sorry. No one has ever been able to tell her what to do. Normally when she gets something in her head she can’t be swayed. I remember when she was learning to ride her bicycle, me and Sal were trying to give her pointers but she would only do it her way. No matter how many times she fell off and scraped her knees and banged her arms, she continued to keep doing it her way until finally, she rode her bike all on her own.

  She came running over to us smiling her face off, proud of herself and threw her little arms around me. I want that happy, smiling girl back and if Ricky is a part of that to help with her, then I’ll bite my tongue and shake his hand, not smash his face in. Even if it takes every ounce of my will power to do so.

  The empty stool next to mine becomes a dark shadow filled by Cas, my president.

  “How’s it goin’ with Kyla?” he asks, signalling for a beer.

  I’ve never been good at dealing with failure, so admitting it to anyone who isn’t myself is unthinkable.

  It is the unthinkable that is what I have to act on now, Kyla is lucky my love for her outweighs my pride.

  “Physically, she is coming along but mentally I’m not so sure.”

  “She will do, be sure of that,” he murmurs.

  I turn to face him, how can he be so sure?

  “She has no choice and when you are left with no choice, there is no deeper you can go apart from up.”

  He swigs from his beer and turns towards the prospect behind the bar.

  “Tell Pope how long you have been clean,” he barks.

  The prospect looks at me looking smug with himself.

  “Two years.”

  Cas turns back to me and smiles to reassure me.

  “She’ll come back, I promise you brother.”

  Ricky saunters down the stairs cock sure of himself and before he can disappear, I leave Cas at the bar and follow Ricky through to the tiny kitchen area.

  The kitchen is empty so I close the door behind us. It is bad enough the whole club knows about her habit, I don’t need them knowing every detail of her recovery too, or the fact I can’t do it alone.

  “How is she?”

  “She’s eating her dinner,” he informs me.
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  I’ve heard the whispers about his sister overdosing on the same shit my daughter took a liking to. It could be he wants to help because of his own demons, as long as it isn’t anything to do with helping her for his own dirty, personal gain, this could work out for everyone.

  “Why can you get through to her and I can’t?” I ask, wanting to hear his explanation.

  “I don’t know, but I’m here to help you brother in any way I can,” he offers.

  “You can help me now by telling me where is he based and is he a threat I can take out?”

  He snorts and takes a seat at the table, I join him and prepare myself to eliminate any more threats to my daughter’s recovery.

  “He’s a no one, a low life who gets his kicks from thinking he’s God over the lower less scum. The people he normally deals to are people who are easily controlled and can extort from without any payback, now he knows who her family are, I doubt he will be back to see her again.”

  I don’t know if I have the same level of optimism as my brother, however for the time being I will take his word for it.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Ricky

  A new morning always follows an old night, that’s what my mom used to say. She was always coming out with shit like that, sometimes I thought it was because it got her through the dark days. To believe a load of bullshit rather than face the day head on is beyond me.

  Unlocking Kyla’s door I’m careful to close and lock it behind me once I’m through. If she had the chance to run I think she would and while I don’t doubt my ability to chase her down, I’d rather not.

  It looks like she forgot to close the curtains last night and the room is full of sunlight, I’m surprised she is still managing to sleep through the bright, early morning light pouring over her face.

  She remains asleep as I cross the room and place the tray on the little table beside the bed.

  After her shower last night, her hair looks smooth splayed out around her pillow. Taking advantage of her not being awake, I take a proper look at her and note down all the changes in her since she came here. Her face is filling out, her cheeks no longer gaunt and her hair shines with gloss. There is a glimmer of beauty, not as much as in the photo Pope showed us but definitely a glimmer.