Holding On Read online

  Copyright Notification:

  Copyright © 2013 A.C. Bextor

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying, and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Published in the United States of America.

  Holding On - Lights of Peril

  A.C. Bextor

  Acknowledgements

  - First and foremost to my husband and my daughter. You have to live at home with me every day. It goes without saying that I love you both, fiercely. Your patience with me and all the deliveries of fountain pop and snacks in addition to you having to tolerate my jolly rancher addictions. You are forever picking up my scattered wrappers that are found throughout the house, well this has been by far the most appreciated forms of support that I could have ever asked for. You know me well, so you know I’m being completely serious here.

  - My Mother. As a child, I remember all of your hobbies. Painting, stupid macramé, tedious needlepoint, etc. Most importantly though mom, I remember watching you with your books while you were sitting on the living room couch or at the kitchen table reading. Even enveloped in a story, you never hesitated to stop what you were reading when your kids wanted to hang out and just talk to you, even if it was about nothing. I should have taken the time so long ago to tell you this, but I’m telling you now in this dedication, thank you for never hiding and always sharing your love of arts via exposure, whether that be music, poetry, hobbies, or expressing yourself in writing.

  - My Best Friend, Harry. Lifelong friends are such a rarity in this world and ‘best friend’ doesn’t come close to describing what you are to me. You always believed in me whatever I was doing, even when we were just kids. This project was no different. Thank you for reading it and telling me what I needed to hear along the way to encourage me to keep moving forward. Knowing you believed I had it in me to finish this is what kept me going.

  - My brother, J.K. Are you surprised to find yourself here on this page, big brother? I’m not. It is only because you scared the hell out of me last year that this whole process even started. I began to verify the stories you would tell me about the MC’s I was familiar with here in town. Oh and yes, most definitely without your approval, I was getting a first-hand look into the lifestyle. I only did that because I didn’t believe you and was of mindset to prove you wrong. So, you could say it is because of your aggressive nature, that this book was born. Thank you for being an out of control, alpha, tyrannical brother, and of course for your love of your Harley Davidson and tattoos.

  - My sister at heart, T. Although I kept you in the dark regarding this project, it didn’t go without good reason. You were my ticket to sanity when this would begin to pull me under. You were my own private piece of normal that I clung to when the pressure was getting to me and I wanted to throw my hands up in the air and quit. Pedicures really do help clear the mind, thank you for making go with you to get them. I will always love your face!

  - My Crazy Angel. You are solely responsible for making me put my thoughts down on paper and start this book. Even after I started, then deleted, changed my mind again and restarted. So, if it fails or flies baby, it’s on you. Thank you for being my Thelma and making me look harder at myself and realize that even if I fail at this endeavor, I wouldn’t have been happy until I tried. I value our friendship to no end.

  Side Note:

  I’m an independent author that has just completed my first amazing journey. That being said, my journey does have flaws. Please understand that there may be some typos or words used in the wrong reference. Although I have tried to proofread until my eyes burned, I can’t guarantee this book is perfect. Just know that I tried to make it the best it could be for you.

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Notificaton

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  I've always been loved. My father who is a retired Public Relations Manager of a hotel chain in Columbus, OH just an hour from where we live, has always been strict. My mother the ever housewife and though often times emotionally absent, has always shared her own form of love with me.

  It's my half-brother Patrick whom I have always been the closest. Patrick is ten years my senior. He left mom and dad's house when I was seven. Unfortunately we do not share the same father. His father was the renegade type from a motorcycle outfit east of here that my mother thought she could 'save'. He died during a gun raid at the hands of the ATF. It was always important to my mom to be saving somebody else so she wouldn't have to look too hard at herself and see that she's the one that really needed saving.

  My dad Warren, doesn't even speak of Patrick. I'm not allowed to talk of him, neither is my mother. Dad only sees him as nothing more than a bloodline to a life less than ours. A life of crime, hate, disease, and heartbreak.

  My dad met my mom when Patrick was eight. Patrick had already started to rebel as one would expect a teenager to rebel, he just started early. Once he even broke into a corner store for candy because Warren had forbidden candy in his house, citing it caused cavities and that was an expense he wasn't planning to garner on Patrick's behalf. His behaviors advanced rapidly as Dad continued to withhold the love that Patrick needed from him to become a "productive member of our society" as Dad had once put it.

  Although Patrick and I only spent seven years under the same roof, this did not deter us from sheltering a bond that holds strong to this day. Being that he was forbidden to be in Warren’s house or his presence, he would make time to find me at the park, school, or piano lessons. He would wait for me to see him and then once I communicated silently that the coast was all clear of Warren, we would enjoy a visit catching up.

  Leaving at such a young age, feeling void of love and poor of riches, left Patrick without all he needed to grow up and reach his true poetic potential. He sought acceptance in the only place he felt safe, the local 'Lights of Perils" Motorcycle Club Chapter here in town. Back then, Doc was President and known throughout our small town as a womanizer and was considered as a father to all those without that paternalistic influence. He loved Patrick from the beginning and invited him to join as a prospect once Patrick turned the age of 18. Doc was a good man who unfortunately met his demise one year ago at the hands of Switch, the President of a rival Club in the same town, Angels of the Night. Switch however is not known for his fatherly instincts but rather his trafficking of women, drug sales, and now tally in cold blooded murder.

  My brother’s Club name is Hem, due to his talent with words mirroring the famous Ernest Hemingway. Hem is soft hearted and a poet at heart but dare anyone to make light of this. Although a poet, Hem still stands well over 6 foot and is built l
ike a block wall. He has always had a large frame but as he got older, he just kept growing up and growing out. Together with his poetic heart and kind demeanor, it all makes him Hem.

  Sadey Lyons is my best friend and has been in love with Hem since we were five years old. Her parents still live across the street from ours in our old neighborhood. She and I have shared a living space since we graduated from college 9 months ago. She was almost as heartbroken as I was when we were seven and Hem left us in attempts of finding a home where acceptance was offered to him.

  When we were 14, she asked me what I thought about what her marrying Hem would be like. I laughed and it had hurt her feelings but by the time Hem was 24 to our 14 he was, well... quite experienced. I couldn't and did not want to imagine my brother and Sadey together like that. He loved her too though, I think sometimes now I can see him looking at her like she's a woman, no longer the child she once was. To him, however, I'm eternally only going to be 10 years old and in dire need of his protection, whether I ask for it or not.

  Chapter One

  "An intelligent man is sometimes forced to be drunk to spend time with his fools."

  --Ernest Hemingway

  "Dammit Mace, he's drinking again." Greyson Meyer, who is my soon to be husband, says to me as we are pulling into the Peril Clubhouse. He sees before I do that Hem is dancing with Sadey, as she is in a fit of giggles trying to keep up. Seems as though Hem is blessed with moves and right now they are all on Sadey. Oye!

  Greyson and Hem are polar opposite. Greyson is a lead accountant at a firm located out of Dallas but works at the local office here in Ohio. He is tall and lean with a strong jaw and looks delicious in his daily suits. Rarely do you see him with a single hair out of place or a stain marring his perfectly pressed apparel. He honestly mirrors my dad Warren, who also happens to be his personal hero. I guess the assumption of wanting someone similar to our father holds true here. He and dad are close, meaning that he also shares the same disdain for Hem's lifestyle as dad but Greyson tolerates Hem and his group for me. He knows we all come as a package deal. It’s me, Sadey, and about 60 of the rowdiest, obnoxious, big hearted fools spread throughout this state.

  "I know, but look at them Greyson. They look happy together." I say while sighing in envy.

  "Is that what happiness looks like, Mace? Cause to me they just look drunk and clumsy."

  Giving him my eye roll I get out of the car and start towards the entrance of the compound. Greyson doesn't drink, sometimes I wish he would. I would love to see Greyson unblocked. It probably wouldn't suit him though. He has to be in control and keep up appearances at all times.

  "There she is, my beautiful sister! Come here and give your brother a hug!" Oh lord, he does sound a tad under the influence.

  Quickly looking back at Greyson for encouragement I turn and give a forged smile to Hem and ask, "What are we celebrating tonight, big brother?"

  Shame, my brothers Vice President and best friend since he was about eleven and Hem was nine is standing beside Hem and Sadey grinning like a schoolboy. His dimples do not represent his ability to tackle and eliminate anything he deems an immediate threat. He is smiling though, so something is up. Shame doesn't smile often. He may have escaped his past, but he still wears the scars of pain with his sadness and mistrust always close to the surface.

  "Well, my sweet little sister, we are celebrating because we have all voted and it has been concluded that you, Mace Cash, are now the official Motorcycle Princess of the Lights of Peril MC!" I stand in front of my brother, as if he has gone mad and grown three heads. The Princess of the MC, has he lost his ever loving mind?

  "HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?" Alright, that seems to come out just a bit more severe than I had played in my head.

  “Hem, is this a joke? Cause it’s not funny! I am not a MC Princess! You are supposed to find a woman and make HER the princess of this.” I gesture my hands about my face reaching for a dramatic moment and only manage to make Shame chuckle even more.

  Turning my exasperation to Shame, “Is this funny to you? My brother looks to have lost his marbles in a pint of vodka and you are laughing? I don’t see the joke here, Shame.”

  Shame and I have had an interesting and confusing relationship throughout the years. His road name was given to him by Doc, who also paternally adopted Shame at the age of 17 and offered him a prospect position once he turned 18.

  Shame came from a broken home and was abused both physically and emotionally by both his mother and father. He is not proud of his past and what he did to survive the years of abuse, but Doc wouldn’t allow him to forget the events that had created and instilled his character, therefore made him wear his name as a badge of honor, a survival tool. They will now forever call him Shame.

  His given birth name was Neil Carrick but since being patched into Peril, he no longer acknowledges his relation to anyone but Doc and the Club brothers. Being that he is Hem’s best friend and confidante, he had been the only ‘man’ in my life other than my father and Hem during my youthful years. Hem trusts him implicitly and that trust includes taking care of me when it’s needed.

  That said, I have also crushed on Shame since I can remember the first time he picked me up off my bicycle when I was seven. With his dark black hair and silver blue eyes, his bright smile and those dimples that rarely make an appearance; he makes it hard to remember to steer clear of any male member of the Club.

  I’ve seen Shame with women. At times it was appalling, but never the less I had always yearned to be one of many, even if only for one night. As I got older I was convinced that being Shames woman would not be an easy position for someone like me. He doesn’t do relationships, hell he doesn’t even do the whole dating passage. Nope, Shame is all about sex and how much of it he can get in order for him forget about his past. I hate this for him, he’s a good man, great friend, and it’s already been established the man is damn gorgeous. He could make a woman feel lucky to have him just by letting her hang on his arm and many Club whores have expertise with that feeling. I just had to give up the dream that I would ever be that woman. So as I stare back at those dimples and remember why I seem to be fuming, I’m back at Hem.

  “Do you think you could explain yourself, please?” I am seriously pissed off, not from just Hem but from looking at Shame. God Shame is beautiful in a macho, badass, ‘I’m going to eat you for breakfast’ sort of way.

  Hem looks shocked and hurt, and still he’s quite a bit into the drink. “Mace, every Club has a Princess, you’re it.” Okay, I’m getting nowhere and fast. I decide to end the conversation after realizing we have an audience.

  I look for Greyson and he is not to be found. I am relieved he missed this little announcement. I hope to hell he isn’t within hearing distance because if he is that means my evening will be spent bringing him down from his anger and disgust towards the Club, my family.

  “I sent him to get you a glass of wine.” Sadey pipes up from behind Hem. “Also sent him to remove that plug from his ass. Seriously Mace, how do you put up with that? Jeez Mama, he must be a damn Saint in the sack! Ya know he isn’t any better than us but he looks down at all of us as if he is imagining crushing us with his shoe!”

  Well, thank hell someone was thinking and sent him away! Greyson tolerates my family of bikers, but to say he tolerates them is putting a stretch to it. He is particularly disgusted with Shame and Hem and he is just barely civil to Sadey, only because she’s not a Club member or affiliated in anyway other than Hem is the love of her life. Greyson doesn’t even know this because if he did she would rate next to them, lingering at the bottom of the food chain.

  “Sadey, stop being dramatic. I’m marrying him and being that you are my maid of honor, you remember that position you accepted willingly? I think it would be best if you give the guy a break, at the same time you can stay off my ass about it. Your experience with relationships being ummm limited, you could stand to chill out and not judge mine.” I’ve hurt her but she’s earned
that.

  I look from her to Hem so she gets my point without me having to be overly obvious about it, but if she doesn’t shut up I am willing to go that distance. I’m getting tired of defending Greyson, I choose him which means they should trust me and my decisions that I make for myself.

  Shame walks across the drive and grabs my wrist after hearing Sadey’s comment about Grey and I in the sack and he doesn’t look happy. Instantly though, his touch is sending a million jolts of young memories of us when I was 16, he was 28 and it was my Junior Prom.

  I had spent the whole day doing my nails, hair, and making my dress look flawless. I wasn’t a girly girl like Sadey. She was always willing to be in the spotlight, but she was so insistent that I play dress up that night and after listening to her beg without remorse, I allowed her to dress me up. I was determined to spend the whole night away from home and in a hotel with Mark, my date. He wasn’t anything special but all the other girls had the same plan, except Sadey, she was too afraid of the opposite sex and had lived by the mantra ‘I’m saving myself for Hem, he will finally see me one day’. At the time she said this, Hem was 26 years old and on a fury of sex, drink, and drugs. She only saw Hem as she had when we were kids. To her, Hem would always be perfect.

  Well so my prom date got sick with something horrid and cancelled last moment and ruined my plan of becoming a woman that night. Shame had come to my rescue though and escorted me to the dance so that I wouldn’t miss out on that rite of teenage passage. He has no idea which rite of passage I was looking forward to and if he ever had found out, he would have beat my ass... after Hem was done with it. Being that Hem trusted that I was being protected by Shame at the dance, I was able to go and enjoy the evening with the only grown man in attendance that wasn’t faculty.