Joker by Andi Rhodes

Chapter Eighteen

^{Riley gets it.}

Joker

Istare at the woman sleeping in my bed as I lean against the doorframe. Riley’s on her stomach, her hair splayed over the pillow and an arm tucked under her head. One leg is straight and she has the other curled up toward her body. Her ass is bare and my cock stirs at the sight.

The creaking of the front door pulls my attention away from the only place I want it to be. I push off the wall and pull the door shut behind me before heading to the living room. Greaser’s mouth lifts into a grin when he sees me.

“Looks like you had a good night,” he comments. My eyes narrow.

I glance down at the boxer briefs I’m wearing and silently chastise myself for not putting on sweats. Normally I wouldn’t give a shit if Greaser knew I’d spent my night fucking but with Riley, it’s different. It’s personal.

“Fuck off,” I mutter as I walk to the kitchen to pour a cup of coffee.

“Yeah, definitely a good night.”

He steps past me to lift a clean mug out of the cupboard and pours himself a cup. We stand there, leaning against the counter and silently caffeinating ourselves for several minutes. Greaser is here for a reason and it isn’t to talk about last night’s festivities.

I clear my throat.

“So, where is she?” I ask, hating the fact that I actually give a shit about the answer.

“I took Cheryl to that new facility in Warrenton and she checked herself in.” He twists to set his empty mug in the sink. “With a bit of pre-game coaxing.”

I can only imagine what it took for him to convince her to do that. Then again, maybe it didn’t take much since she was beaten to hell and scared.

“What story did you give them?”

“Told them her dealer knocked her around for non-payment.” He shrugs. “They bought it.”

“Good.”

I turn and rinse out my own mug. I glance at the coffee pot and assure myself that there’s enough left for Riley so I don’t need to make more. Before I can step away from the counter and head into the living room, Greaser pulls something from his pocket and thrusts it at me.

I glance at it and am able to make out that it’s a business card. The word ‘Recovery’ taunts me from beneath his thumb and all I’m able to do is stare.

“C’mon, bro, take it.” He slaps the card against my chest. “Just in case you want to check up on her.” When I still don’t take it, he sets it on the counter. “Look, I don’t care if you use it or not, but you chose to have me take her to rehab for a reason. You chose not to kill her for a reason.”

He steps around me and strolls into the living room to sit on the couch, effectively ending the conversation. I’m grateful to him for that but I’ll never admit it.

“You working today?” I ask him.

He snorts. “Do Bangin’ Betties spread their legs?”

The retort pulls a laugh from me and suddenly all of my tension is gone. This is why Greaser is my best friend. This is why he’s family. He has this insane ability to shift from serious to wacky in seconds and make people forget all their troubles. Even if only for a little while.

“Fender wants me to finish up that Fatboy that was brought in last week,” Greaser says and then he lifts his eyes toward the hallway. “He’s gonna ask me if I’ve checked in with you.”

“You mean he’s gonna ask you if I’m keeping Riley in line,” I snarl. I shove my fingers through my hair, frustrated, angry. “He doesn’t trust her.”

“You didn’t either.” When I glare at him, he shakes his head and presses on. “Not at first.”

I stand up and start to pace, my bare feet pattering against the hardwood floor.

“What do you want me to tell him, J?”

“The truth.”

“Which is?” he prompts.

I stop pacing and face him. “Things have changed.”

“Care to elaborate?”

I take several deep breaths while I try to come up with an answer. Greaser is absolutely right. When I first laid eyes on Riley, I didn’t fucking trust her. Not even a little. I didn’t trust her when Fender made me take her to Washington. I didn’t even fully trust her when I was dragging her to the Nightmare Room to confront Cheryl. But then… then I did.

The sight of Riley wailing on my mother, of her defending me, defending a man who gave her no reason to… that sight caused a shift. In everything. The world, my foundation, the shattered pieces of my heart, my soul. In a few short minutes, Riley’s actions made me reevaluate everything I thought I knew, everything I felt toward women.

“You like her.”

I whip my head in Greaser’s direction and lock eyes with him, trying to find the accusation in them, the anger and disappointment. But I find none of that. Only interest, curiosity, acceptance.

I nod. “Yeah, bro, I like her.”

“Okay,” he says. “Then I’ll tell Fender that.”

That bit of information isn’t going to be enough for Fender and I say as much. “He’ll want more.”

“Is there more to give him?”

I think back over my conversation with Riley, about what we know about her stalker, or rather, what we don’t know. I haven’t solidified any plans but I do think using Riley as bait is our best option. I know that scares her but I think she’ll agree to what I have in mind.

“Have him call a meeting.” The more and more the idea sits in my brain, the more convinced I am that it’s what has to be done. “Tell him I’ve got an idea and I want to bring it before the club for a vote.”

“What’s your idea?”

I shake my head. “I need to run it by Riley first. I promise, it’ll all make sense… tomorrow.”

“And what about today?”

I grin. “Today, you go work as hard as the Bangin’ Betties do and I’m going to take the day off. Spend time with Riley.”

Greaser stands and walks to the door but before he leaves, he looks over his shoulder and laughs. “Another one bites the dust.”

* * *

“Where exactly are you taking me?”

Riley eyes my Harley warily and crosses her arms over her chest. I do my best to ignore the way her cleavage is only enhanced by the action but it’s not easy. Forcing my eyes upward, I take in her braided hair. I wish she would have left it down but I also know that this is better for a ride.

“Do you trust me?” I ask, rather than answer her question.

Her skepticism deepens as evidenced by the crease in her forehead when she knits her brows.

“I don’t know,” she says.

“C’mon, Black Bird. I won’t bite.” I wink at her. “Hard.”

I swing my leg over the bike and grip the handlebars, watching her, waiting. The business card that Greaser left on my counter burns a hole in my back pocket. I tried to get up the nerve to call and check on Cheryl but by the time I worked myself up to it, Riley emerged from the bedroom and my mother was forgotten. At least until it was time to leave and I swiped the card off the counter, just in case.

Riley rolls her eyes before climbing on behind me. Her body heat permeates through my shirt, my cut, and seeps into my pores, but she’s still too far away.

“You better hang on,” I call over my shoulder as I start my bike.

When it roars to life, Riley’s arms snake around my waist and I can’t stop the laugh that tears from my throat.

“Are you really that scared?” I ask, genuinely wanting to know.

It’s unfathomable to me how anyone could be afraid of something that brings me so much peace, so much freedom. And really, it’s a little scary that the first person I want to share that with may be afraid of it. There’s also the possibility that her fear has nothing to do with the motorcycle and everything to do with me, but I’m trying not to go there in my mind. Not today.

“I’m not scared.” She leans into my back and presses her cheek against me. “Not of you or the ride anyway.”

“Then what are you afraid of?”

“You said it yourself… the club’s property is a safe place. And now you’re taking me off the property. What if he finds us?”

Anger bubbles in my veins. “I hope he does,” I snarl.

“He’s hurt people, Joker,” she snaps. “He’ll hurt you. And me.”

“He won’t fucking touch you, not as long as I’m breathing.” I look over my shoulder at her. “I’ll keep you safe, Riley. I promise.”

She smiles but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. What was supposed to be a fun day has somehow started off rocky. I don’t want her to think about her stalker. I don’t want her to worry or be afraid. I want her to laugh, to enjoy life for the day, enjoy me.

And the only way I know how to give her that is to ride and hope that she experiences even a fraction of what I do when I’m on my Harley.

“Hang on,” I say one last time.

Her hold on me tightens and I waste no more time on talk. I take things slow as I weave through the property but the second I hit the open road beyond the gates, I hammer down. I point the bike in the direction of the coast and let the air do the rest.

It doesn’t take long before we’re sandwiched between mountains and an ocean view. Riley’s grip loosens and that’s when it hits me.

Riley gets it.

She’s the first woman to ever be on the back of my bike and she gets it. The laughter that bubbles from her with each overlook we pass, with each slight change in scenery, the way she taps me on the shoulder and points at something she sees in the distance… it’s joy. Pure, unfettered joy.

I drive for an hour, maybe two—time passes differently on the back of a bike—before we reach our destination. I pull over and park on the small patch of dirt and gravel on the side of the road. When I turn the bike off, I stay seated and lift my face to the sky. The beauty of riding, of feeling the wind in your face, of the air as it whips past you, is that it takes with it all the negativity.

Riley swings her leg over the seat, steadying herself with a hand gripping my arm.

“Why’d we stop?” she asks.

I look past her and point. “That.” She turns to follow my finger. “We stopped to see that.”

In the distance are two large rocks that seem to sprout from the ocean. There’s nothing all that special about them, other than the fact that they’re one example of nature’s perfect imperfections. They aren't symmetrical, they don’t match, they’re not even close to the same height. And yet, they ground me. Stabilize me when I’m feeling my most unstable. They always have.

“C’mon.”

I get off the Harley and grab her hand to tug her along with me toward the edge of the cliff. When I reach it, I know what awaits us. Riley doesn’t so she digs in her heels and tries to yank free.

“Are you nuts?” she shrieks. “Don’t you see how far down that is?” She points to the edge with her free hand.

I grin. “You said before that you didn’t know.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s a simple yes or no. Do you trust me?” I hold my breath while I wait for her answer.

Her eyes dart from my face to the cliff and back again and it’s another few agonizing seconds before she nods. “Yes.”

“Good.”

I pull her toward me again and this time she doesn’t resist. When my toes line up with the edge of the cliff, I lift my leg over it. Riley gasps.

I glance at her. “Trust.”

I drop her hand and lower myself to the ground but as soon as my ass connects with the rock and dirt, I brace my hands on either side of me and scoot forward, over the edge. My feet hit a ledge about six feet below and I stand up straight and turn around to look up at her.

Riley’s mouth is wide open and her eyes are the same.

“Are you going to come down or what?”

Riley lowers herself to her knees and inches forward to look over the edge and that’s the first time she’s able to see what I’m standing on. She lifts her gaze to me.

“I don’t like heights.”

I reach my hand up toward her. “Trust.”

She rolls her eyes and then slowly places her hand in mine. She twists so that she’s sitting rather than kneeling and allows me to guide her over the edge. When her feet hit solid rock, her sigh is audible.

Riley turns in circles next to me. It’s hidden and if you don’t take the chance or really look, you’d never see the natural cutout that dips back into the cliff wall and you’d miss out on the beauty of it all.

“You come here a lot.” It’s not a question. Somehow, she knows this is fact.

“Have since I was old enough to ride on my own.”

I sit down and scoot back to lean against the rock. Riley sits between my stretched-out legs and we both take in the view.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you come here?”

I chuckle. “You don’t know?”

Riley shakes her head before resting it against my chest. I wrap my arms around her and feel any last hint of tension that lingered leave my body.

“You already know that I had a shit childhood,” I begin. “At least for a time. My father was great and so was the club. But none of them knew the truth.”

“You never told anyone?” she asks.

“Nope. You were the first.” I take a deep breath. “The older I got, the more anger built in me. It’s no secret that the Soulless Kings aren’t the most… law abiding citizens. They’re my family but all the violence, all the bloodshed, all of it only fueled my rage. I had lots of outlets for that rage but it was never quite enough. I got to the point where I couldn’t take it anymore.”

Riley shifts between my legs to get more comfortable.

“When my dad gave me my first Harley, I wasted no time. I had a plan. I was going to end it all.” Tears prick the back of my eyes but I blink them away. “That night, I drove out here and parked my bike. I left a letter to my father taped to the seat because I knew the bike would be found. I told him everything in that letter. Every last detail of what my mother did when she took me.” I take a deep breath. “And then I walked to the ledge. I focused on those two rocks for what felt like hours but never looked down. I knew if I looked down, I’d chicken out. I memorized every inch of those formations that I could in the moonlight and when I was sure that there was nothing left to memorize, I took a step forward, knowing that it would be a painful fall but not nearly as painful as staying. As remembering.”

Riley shifts away from me and turns to straddle my hips. She cups my face in her hands and I can see the tears in her eyes.

“But you didn’t fall.”

I brush away her tears and shake my head. “I swear to God, I don’t know why I picked this spot. I have no clue what made me pull over and stop my bike here. But something did. Imagine my surprise when my feet hit this ledge.” I flatten my palm on the rock beneath me. “I could’ve pulled over a mile earlier or ten miles later and the outcome would’ve been so different but instead, something told me to stop here and I barely even fell. I mean, it’s only a few feet from the top. It was a jarring experience, that’s for damn sure.”

Riley presses her lips to mine and I savor her taste, the emotion in the kiss. When she pulls away from me, I wrap my arms around her and tug her back. She rests her head on my shoulder while I keep talking.

“This cliff, this spot, it saved me. The one thing I chose to kill me couldn’t. I stayed here that entire night. I remember it started to storm and I watched the waves, the fury of the ocean, and it matched the violent struggle in me. I felt more calm than I ever had. So now, when I need to get away or when the rage is too much to handle and I don’t have someone to take it out on, someone that deserves it, I come here.”

Riley lifts her head to look at me. “But you still never told anyone. You still hate women. Did this place really solve anything?”

“True. I didn’t tell anyone. Before I went back to the club the next morning, I took the letter and tore it into pieces before tossing it over the ledge. And you’re right, I don’t trust women. For the most part. I don’t know that I’ll ever be in a place where I can forgive what my mother did and I know I’ll never forget it. But maybe, I can move past it. This place helps with that, at least for the time I’m here. And…”

My words clog my throat.

“And what?” Riley asks, lifting her hand to my cheek.

“And you, Riley. You help me. You’ve helped me. I just hope I can do the same for you.”