When is enough, enough?
All of this is because of me. Because of the cult life my mum locked us in. Ringo is at odds with Smitty. I don’t even know if what happened means he’s no longer a Southern Sadist, but since he’s stillwearing his cut, the eerie skull on the back looking at me lit by the headlights of the car, I’m going to assume he is.
It’s then that Ringo spins and storms back towards the Landy, a savage glare consuming his expression.
He can be an intimidating man when he wants to be. Well, he’s like that most of the time, but he softens for me… mostly.
A gush of cold air sweeps in when he gets back into the driver’s seat, his eyes darting into the back to check on Daniel before coming to me.
“I don’t know what the Angel sisters had to do to make this happen, but we finally have the all clear to pass.”
I nod, tugging on my seatbelt again. “Do you need me to drive?” I ask, and his surprised expression meets mine.
“Angel, no offense, but did you see how the van fared after you stole it from the airfield?”
My lips twitch. “That wasn’t because of my lack of driving skills. That was because I was out of my mind after Daniel told me Bobbi didn’t die.”
“Even so,” he smirks back, “I’m not prepared to risk my Landy.”
I snicker at that, relaxing a little at the brief lightness to our conversation, and Ringo drives the car forward slowly, passing through the pandemic state border security checkpoint.
The van and motorcycles follow behind, and the moment we are safely on South Australian soil, we speed up and drive off into the night.
We don’t talk much, Ringo playing Metallica through the radio as the late night turns into the very early morning of Wednesday, just eight weeks since Bobbi was born.
At some point I fall asleep, even though I didn’t think I’d be able to with Ringo’s music on, but something about it started to soothe the race of my heart, and I ended up thinking about Lexi, and how much she’d like this music.
I miss her.
I miss the times we used to share when we were oblivious to the depraved things our parents were involved in. I miss that lighthearted feeling of wonder about our futures, and what adventures awaited us. I miss our days in the sun, going to parties with our friends, and movie days at Simon’s, which usually ended up with someone in the pool, even in the dead of winter.
I miss the time when I was just a girl, flirting with guys and wondering what it would be like to kiss them, the idea of sex so far from my thoughts.
Now, everything has changed, and it’s hard for me to wish away the bad things that happened, because if they hadn’t, I may never have met Ringo.
The next time I wake, the car is still running, but it’s pulled over on the side of the road, and I peer out the window to see Ringo standing in the dark on a scrubby sidewalk, talking with JD and the others.
Stretching, I glance back at Daniel, and as far as I can see he’s sleeping, so I slip my shoes on, and quietly get out of the car.
Ringo turns at the sound of the car door clicking closed, reaching his hand out in my direction.
Moving to their little pack, I take his hand and let him pull me against his side, loving how he presses his lips to my head as he listens to JD talk.
“Brody got a couple of calls from some of the guys,” he explains, and I can just make out the worry etched over his features from the glow of the car headlights. “They are all panicking. Don’t know what’s happening and who they should be following.”
“I’m not vying for the President’s cut. I was just doing what’s fucking right,” Ringo grumbles, and JD nods. “That’s what I told Brody.”
“What did Jols say?” Ringo asks, and JD’s face turns to stone.
“Don’t worry about that.”
“Dude, as if we’re not going to worry about that.” Vender bumps his shoulder against JD’s. “Has she heard anything?”
I glance around the group of men, who all remain silent, their focus on JD, and feel a sense of something… is it? Belonging?
“Smitty called her.” JD’s jaw ticks, and I feel Ringo stiffen. “Said her boy toy is a traitorous sack of shit and won’t be returning to the club.”
“Fuck that prick!” Murf snarls. “He’s off his fucking rocker. And what’s with Spud and Tups doing shit like that? I thought that stuff was stamped out ten fucking years ago.”
