Chapter One
The storefronts rolledpast as Jock aimed the front wheel of his bike at the side of the street.The little leather shop ahead had modified the parking in front of the shop to be bike-lined, and Jock stopped for a moment, then allowed the bike to roll backwards until he was centered between two of the lines.A quick brake, and he killed the motorcycle, listening to the engine ticking over as it began its cool-down.
He stood and rifled through the side bag, bringing out a petite black leather vest and a handful of colorful patches.Lifting the vest, he eyed the existing patches, ones he was always going to enjoy seeing on the back of the woman he loved.The Incoherent MC patch, smaller than the one on the back of his own vest, was positioned off-center and lower.Right underneath that smaller patch was a rocker that proclaimed “Property of,” which was something his old lady loved.The last patch was just “Jock,” but it told anyone who looked her way that she was solidly taken.Sylvia Perez, his own Silly, loved riding on the back of Jock’s bike and wearing her vest.Every weekend she wasn’t needed at her tattoo shop, and if there wasn’t a planned club event, they’d taken to riding out and exploring.
Patches in hand, he walked into the leather shop, then pounded on top of the countertop at the back of the shop and yelled, “Miss Danielle, are you in here?”
“Jesus Christ on a crutch” came from the room behind the counter.“Scare an old lady, would ya?”
“If you want to be scared, I can do more of that.”
“Who is that?Jock?Boy, what do you need?”
“I got Twisted to approve those patches Silly wanted on her vest.She’s about to leave for a week-long tattoo show, so won’t need the vest for a bit.Think you can turn it around by the time she gets back in town?”
“Am I Black?”The curtain twitched, and Jock smiled at the elderly Black woman who strode out.She stopped with hands on her hips, glaring at Jock.
“You are indeed Black, sister.I shouldn’t have doubted you.”
“No, you should not have.Remember that for next time.”
“Yes, ma’am.”He laid the PO vest on the countertop and spread out several small patches.He switched the patch placement a couple of times and shuffled things around until they were in the order Silly had quizzed him on a dozen times before he left her at the tattoo shop.“This is what she wants and how she wants them.We’re good putting them on the left side of the vest.They don’t want them underneath her nameplate, and I get that.”
He’d joined IMC nearly a year ago and served the required six months before he’d been able to petition for a PO vest.It had come with a list of rules for wearing, mostly surrounding the respect necessary by not just the wearer, but also their significant other.They all made sense and echoed the rules Jock lived by with his vest.
Never in a cage.Never on the floor.Never left unattended.Never on another’s back.
Easy.
Miss Danielle looked at the patches and started giggling.“‘It’s not kinky if you do it more than once’?I like that one.She’s got a good eye for humor.”She picked up the vest and folded it reverently before placing it back on the countertop.A little bowl of safety pins hit the countertop also, and she began fastening the patches to the vest.When Jock picked it back up, they’d be neatly sewn into place, with strict spacing between each.Miss Danielle’s shop had been a go-to for IMC members as far back as anybody could remember.
“Want me to call before I come back to pick it up?”He patted the vest, the butter-supple leather smooth against his palm.He was going to miss it hanging on Silly’s peg next to the front door of their house.He was going to miss Silly so much more.
“Nah, I should have it done in a couple of days.There’s not much to disassemble before I can get started sewing.”
“Pay now?”He reached for his wallet, the chain rattling as he pulled it out.
“Pay then.”She slipped the folded vest into a paper bag, then wrote Silly’s name on the front of it.“That’s good enough for me.”
“You’re the best, Miss Danielle.If you ever need anything, you call, okay?”
“Son, if you mother me any more, I’m gonna start calling you momma.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Still grinning, he walked through the door and back out into the sunshine.Jock took a couple of steps to the side and paused to give his eyes a chance to adjust.
The hair on the back of his neck prickled, and he looked around, peering down the dark alley next to the leather shop and then back out to the street.A sound dropped into the silence, but it wasn’t one that gave truth or lie to the question if there was danger nearby.He’d felt this kind of stillness before, back when he was out on the sand.
The sound repeated, and Jock swung back to the alley slowly.Again it came, and this time, every muscle in his body tightened because that was the sound of pain, and hopelessness, and waiting to die.Thatwas something he knew very well, that waiting to die bit.And the others were familiar as well because he lived with those sounds in his head all the time.His PTSD was under better control than ever, but he worried about something happening to cut that achievement back to zero.Can’t escape all potential triggers.Gotta live life.Yeah, but don’t need to go chasing those triggers into a dark alley that looks spookily like the streets of Fallujah.
He took a step into the alley and paused, then moved forwards deliberately, tracking the sound.It couldn’t be too far ahead.The alley was a dead end, with only about thirty feet left before he’d hit blank bricks.There was a bundle of what looked like fabric at the base of a dumpster, and unbelievably, it sounded like the cries were coming from there.
Jock took another step and then stopped in his tracks, heart jumping up into his throat as he realized what it was.
