My phone pinged again.
“Yep, time to return. Maybe we get a chance to come back here later.” I replied and moved back and squatted, turning, and offering her my back again. She giggled as she climbed on, with no hesitation this time.
navigated my way back, going the long way around, and coming out near our campsite, most of the Club members were already there, standing, looking around.
“What’s up?” I asked Bruiser as I neared the guys.
“The Jones gang is behind the action, even though they aren’t here; they have friends here that are causing problems. It seems word was out about the warehouse, and we are being blamed for the deaths and police involvement.” Bruiser spat on the ground, as if ridding himself of something that tasted terrible in his mouth.
Maxine POV
The place Tank took me was like stepping into another world.
Birds jumped from limb to limb, singing to each other, the sound of the water rippling over the rocks, the fish darting about amongst the rocks, the bubbles created by the small rapids, were floating for a little bit on the surface, before popping and disappearing as if they were never there, the tree swaying gently in the breeze, and me in the strong arms of a giant, put it together and you had me feeling I had entered a fairy tale.
This was too good to be true.
The calm and serenity of this place could heal the broken soul, given a bit of time.
Grandma and Grandpa would have loved this place. I could picture Grandpa trying to catch fish in the rock pools, and Grandma sitting in the shade under the humongous tree, reading a book. Both would be enjoying the area but in different ways.
I miss them both.
“Sorry, we can come back later if there’s time; we are wanted back at the camp,” Tank said sadly. He, too, was enjoying the tranquil place. He offered me his back, and who am I to refuse, which saves me from risking slipping and falling in the water.
Tank sure-footedly jumped across the stones, never missing a beat. He skilfully judged each step with practiced ease. copied from jo-bn-ib-com I bounced on his back in time with his jumps, and I felt he did this to hear me laughing, because I did laugh, that is, each time I bobbed up and down, I giggled. He made it fun, and I was flying on his back without a care in the world.
I could see over his shoulder that the club members were gathering, and tents were being dismantled; it looked like we were going home. Our time here was over. It was a shame; I had enjoyed our time here.
Jones Gang, that name rang a bell, something to do with Pixie. I don’t know the story. Tank never divulged what went on at the warehouse, and I never asked. If they wanted me to know about it, they would tell me. I had started to trust Tank and believed he wouldn’t deliberately put me in harm’s way. Being in a bike gang always had an element of risk, even for gangs on the wrong side of the law, because we are all tainted with the same brush: one gang does something, we must all do it. I understand. Grandpa had drilled that into me. It’s like the saying, “the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” Everything my sister does, or my parents do, they expect me to be the same. I am nothing like them.
Tank lowers me to the ground.
“Go pack our things and join the girls; they know what to do.” Tank turned me in the direction of our tent, and slapped me on the bottom, getting the giggle and a little skip out of his reach, before he turned with a smile to join the men, and whatever they have to do.
I reached our section and started to pack. There wasn’t much, and less than an hour later, it was packed. In the van, I took out the snacks, refilled my backpack, made some more drinks, and they went in the backpack too. I then hunted the girls; they had finished packing, and our tent was being dismantled.
“Hi ya,” I called out as I approached the women, who were together gossiping.
A woman I hardly know came to stand in front of me, encroaching on my personal space.
“This was all your fault. You have been nothing but trouble since cosying up to Tank. They should chuck you out.” She went to poke me in the chest, but I grabbed her hand and tightened my grip. She squealed as I had just broken it, and yanked it out of my grasp, which would have hurt her even more.
“Told ya, she’s dangerous, look what she did.” She lifted her hand, and I couldn’t even see any red marks on it. What was she showing?
“What’s going on here?” Sticks called out as she approached us.
“That,” pointing at me.
“Her.” Turning to look at Sticks with tears in her eyes.
“She’s dangerous.” She screamed out loudly. Gaining attention for anyone within earshot.
“Maxi Max?” Sticks asked, in surprise, turning to me, for clarification.
“That bi,tch hurt me.” She continued offering her hand, which she had been squeezing as evidence.
“Max?” Cricket asked, coming to speak with me.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.