BANE: A Devils' Due MC Romance Novel (7 page)

He was shirtless, and I got a good view of his blocky frame.  All that mass... it wasn’t big bones and fat.  He had muscles bulging all over his torso.  His chest looked like it was carved out of stone.  His abs were well defined, like road bumps grouped together to lie side-by-side.  His forearms were just as colossal and as ropy as his biceps.

I gazed at him for a few seconds, wondering how he maintained his physique.  He looked like the type who despised workouts and gym sessions, after all.

Maybe he’s just...
gifted.

I cowered a bit after I realized that I was dangerously close to ogling at him.  I shuddered at that thought.  Bane’s old.  His droopy eyes and the lines on his face revealed that much.  The scars of age.

I furtively proceeded to the main door.

It was still dark outside.  The streets were empty.  Crickets were still chirping and the moon was still up.  I’d arrive early in school...
too early
... but I didn’t have a choice.  I had to go now instead of later.  I had to avoid the patches and the prospects and the hang-arounds and the mamas who’d greet me with rage and loathing.

I walked for ten minutes until I reached Hummington Drive where the bus stop was.  I waited there for another ten minutes, but no busses passed by though a couple of taxis slowed down to check if I wanted a ride.  I grabbed my wallet tocount how much cash I had and if it was enough for a cab.  Fifty-five dollars.  And an ATM that my dad entrusted to me before he...

Before he died.

My knees turned weak as my heart became heavy once again upon remembering that he was gone.  I sat on the bench for a few more minutes.  It was then when the first bus that morning parked in front of me.

Not a single student was at Carlson High when I got there.  The first rays of the morning sun were starting to shine and the birds began to chitter.  I sat on the steps.  I checked my watch.  5:48 A.M.  School would start at 8. 
Great!
  I had to wait for more than two hours.  And this was how it was going to be for the next four months.

Thankfully, the school’s WiFi network was on.  I quickly connected my phone to the internet.  Unlike other kids my age, I wasn’t really big on Facebook or Twitter or Instagram.  I didn’t really like social media, though everyone seemed to be crazy about it.  Maybe it’s because those things are for people who had friends... lots of friends... and I only had a few.

So I went to the local newspaper’s website instead.  I searched their archive for news regarding the events in the past three days.  I scoured through their headlines, hoping to find one that would mention my dad.

I found nothing.

He wasn’t even in the obituary.

I guessed they didn’t even give him a proper burial. 

A surge of wind blew, bringing with it some chilly air from the lake.  I shuddered as I cursed myself for failing to bring a jacket or a sweater.  I was in such a hurry that I forgot about the cold, springtime morning.

People started to fill up the steps after an hour or so.  They stayed there, waiting for the bell and for the main entrance to open.  I was hardly sociable.  I knew them only by face, and I haven’t even spoken to them before.  Some gave me a friendly smile.  Others didn’t even notice I was there.

Hence, I was really surprised when someone greeted me from behind.

“Lana, you’re here!” A male’s voice.  Deep but warm, rough but courteous.  I recognized it immediately.  Justin Gordon’s.

“Hey,” I replied. 

He sat beside me, his leg brushed against mine.  His bright, emerald eyes looked straight at me.  They expressed both worry and delight.

“I haven’t seen you for like a week!” he exclaimed.  “Have you been sick?  Are you alright?”

“I’m... fine,” I lied.  We weren’t particularly close.  And even if we were, I didn’t think I could reveal to him the true nature of the life I’ve come to know.  “I was just... under the weather... s’all.”

He slightly dipped his head to tell me that he understood.  His hair of golden yellow swayed with his head.

“Well, you didn’t miss anything significant,” he continued to say.  “Just a Trigo quiz, but I’m sure Mr. Rogers will be happy to give you a remedial.”

“Yeah, I’ll talk to him after his class,” I responded.

He removed his varsity jacket - a badge that told everyone that he was a part of the basketball team - and placed it over my back.  He probably noticed how I was shivering and how my teeth were chattering from the cold.  It was a sweet gesture, one that made me smile.

“You’re early today,” he said.  “I’ve never seen you here at this time before, in all of the twelve years we’ve spent in this school.”

“Had to deal with a...
lifestyle change,”
I lied once again.

“Nothing serious, I hope?”

I didn’t reply.  I had no ready answer for his question.  He got the idea that I wasn’t comfortable talking about it, so he tried to change the subject.

“Guess what?  My dad bought a new car!” he shared excitedly.

“Wow!  That’s great!”

“Yeah!  You know what’s better, though?  He gave me his old one!”

“Fantastic!  I’m happy for you, Justin.”

“It’s a little old, but it’s still a beauty.  Check it out!”  He pointed at the lone car parked in the area adjacent to the school building.  It was a silver-colored Ford Fusion, either a 2008 or a 2009 model, if I wasn’t mistaken.

“It looks nice,” I agreed.

“It drives like a dream too!  Ride with me later.  I’ll bring you home so you’ll know what I’m talking about!”

If things were still...
normal
... I would’ve said yes to his offer.  Commuting to Willowville has always been difficult.  Our area was three bus rides and a twenty minute walk from Carlson.

But things were so much different now.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I told him with much regret.

“I don’t know what you mean, Lana.  If you’re worried that your place is far from my house, don’t.  I have to run some errands at Dayton after school, so I wouldn’t really be going out of my way just to bring you home.”  He gave a me a comely smile that just begged for me to reconsider.

“Justin I... I don’t live in Willowville anymore,” I confessed.

He was taken aback by my answer.

“You don’t?  Where are you staying now?”

I looked away.  I didn’t want him to see the anguish that formed on my face.

“Are you staying with another family member?” he insisted to know.

I didn’t want to lie to him anymore.  We weren’t necessarily friends, but he has always been kind to me.  He was concerned about me, and it would be unfair to him if I’d just add to the untruths I’ve already said.

“I’m staying with my father’s
brothers
,” I mumbled... the only answer I could give that wouldn’t deceive him.

As soon as the final bell rang, I knew the easy part of the day was over.

Sneaking out of the clubhouse wasn’t a tall order at all.  But sneaking back in when everyone was there?  That would be like a matchstick trying to journey across a sea of flames.  I had an idea of what to expect... their mocking stares, their hurtful words, their vile curses...

Some may even get physical.  They’d try to shove me... punch me... scratch my face with their fingernails... pull my hair and drag me down to the floor... kick me... spit at me...

Some may even try to kill me...

They hated rats more than anything else in this world.  And I could only imagine how their loathing would extend to the daughter of the person who they believed betrayed them.

They think I’d cross them, too.

But my dad only broke his oath because he was trapped in a corner.  He wasn’t left with much of a choice. 
Those damn crooked feds
, I heard him say the night before he died,
they’re dirtier than us
.  He never told me what exactly happened, but I pieced together the details I managed to scavenge... from his stories before, from his monologues whenever he was drunk and whenever he thought that no one was listening, from his conversations on the phone while I was eavesdropping from my room. 

The Devils’ Due was working for an Italian crime family.  The club was supposed to protect what my father referred to as
kitchens
, though it was fairly obvious that such was just a codename for meth labs.  Things went bad. 

My father was arrested for some petty offense he committed decades ago.  He could’ve gotten out of it very easily, but the authorities kept him detained for as long as they could.  Then, some agents arrived - from the DEA as I was able to gather - and they blackmailed my father and threatened him that they’d build a case against me and that they’d take me away from his care. They wanted him to squeal on the club and its relationship with the Italians, to tell them where the
kitchens
were, to delineate the distribution channels involved.

My father was more than willing to sacrifice his life for the club.  He valued them that much.

But he wasn’t ready to give me up.  He didn’t want my life ruined because of the bad things he has done throughout the years.

And so, he did the only thing that made sense to him at that time. 

He gave the feds what they wanted, and they spared me.

And that cost him his life.

My father betrayed his club, and the club now believes that I was capable of doing the same thing.

But I’m not my father.  I didn’t have sins to atone for.  And I didn’t have anyone left to protect.

The only reason why I’d even consider betraying them was vengeance.... revenge for what they did to him.

But I wasn’t driven by a need for retribution. 

I didn’t hate the club.  My father taught me that much. 
We owe everything we have to the club
, he always told me. 
The milk that fed you when you were just a babe, the crib that cradled you to sleep, the roof above your head, the years that were added to your mom’s life, the cost of your education, every meal we enjoy on our table... all of these are because of the club
.  My father never had a real job after being dismissed from military service.  He immediately worked for his patch, and he has served the club since then... and the club treated him well.

The club treated
us
well.

They killed him because he broke one of their cardinal rules.  Even as he awaited his sentence, he showed no fear.  He kept reminding me to finish high school, to be the best person I could ever be, and to love the club as much as he loved it.