his plan.
He smiled and nodded, “I’m not just going to ask; I’m going to ask nicely . If they don’t accept,” Trask worked the soap over my chest, “which I doubt they will, then things will devolve into a heated argument where we both hear each other out and come to a mutually beneficial agreement.”
I playfully pushed back at his chest. “Are you the Sergeant at Arms, or a hostage negotiator?”
He laughed, allowing me to push him back. He could have stood like a stone wall against my force, but he didn't. Trask was incredibly powerful and built, but he still let me move him backwards. It reminded me of two animals play fighting. The bigger one would still let the smaller one win from time to time.
“That’s pretty accurate. My job isn’t to come out firing. My job is to try and make sure there isn't a single shot fired at all. I meet with other MCs when they have disputes. I really do try to come up with an agreement that both clubs benefit from.”
I took the soap from him, and Trask let me turn his back to me. As I ran my hands over his corded muscles, I asked, “Does it work?”
Trask put his hands up on the shower wall, leaning against it as I washed him. “Sometimes. Sometimes it doesn't.”
“What happens then?”
“That’s when I get to live up to my name. You know I was in the Navy, right?”
As he asked, I looked to his left arm and saw the eagle perched on an anchor in the background. I ran my fingers over the inked skin. “Mmhm.”
“I went to SEAL school, too. Not sure if you knew that. Didn’t make it through, but I got plenty of training that still comes in handy. When negotiations fail, I usually clear things up quietly. The club likes to stay out of the news, you understand.” He talked like it was no big deal, and he disguised a lot of the details, but I understood.
I had assumed the motorcycle club operated like a shoot ‘em up movie, loaded to the teeth and ready to blow up anyone or anything in their way. Trask made it sound like he did the dirty work in the shadows.
My voice dropped, not that anyone was listening in. “You’ve done it before?”
Trask knew exactly what I meant. “I have. I’ve been with the Rising Sons for nearly five years, and I moved up to the rank of Sergeant at Arms two years ago. In my five years with the club, I’ve pulled the trigger seven times.”
Trask spun around, still half-covered in lather. The water was still hot on my skin, but a cold shiver ran down my back.
“Ten years makes a lot of difference, huh, Hope?” His eyes seemed darker, and I knew he had revealed something deep. I didn’t know how to react, so I didn’t. My mouth hung open slightly as he took me in.
I knew I had to speak, so I managed to say, “I don't know what to say, Trask.” It was the worst thing to say.
“Don’t kid yourself about me, Hope. You came to me knowing what I did. You just didn't want it to be true. You never wanted me to go into the military. I knew that. You didn't have to say it, but I knew. But here’s the thing: you came to me yesterday. You found me out do to the exact thing you never wanted. So you can go ahead and hate me for what I do, but you can’t ask me to do it at the same time.”
He slid the glass door back, stepping out of the shower.
“Trask, I—”
“No. You make up your mind. You don’t get to love a sunset, then complain that you’ve gone blind. Look away, or drink the view in, but don’t try to guilt me while you use me.” His voice got angrier as he spoke, and a moment later, I was left standing naked in the shower, trapped, hurt, and confused.
***
I gave him some time before I got out of the shower. I think we both needed to think. Our reunion had been a whirlwind, and there were many hurt feelings left over from high school, and on top of that, a new world that each of us had to understand the other’s place in.
Trask was right. Nick and I had come to him looking for a
He smiled and nodded, “I’m not just going to ask; I’m going to ask nicely . If they don’t accept,” Trask worked the soap over my chest, “which I doubt they will, then things will devolve into a heated argument where we both hear each other out and come to a mutually beneficial agreement.”
I playfully pushed back at his chest. “Are you the Sergeant at Arms, or a hostage negotiator?”
He laughed, allowing me to push him back. He could have stood like a stone wall against my force, but he didn't. Trask was incredibly powerful and built, but he still let me move him backwards. It reminded me of two animals play fighting. The bigger one would still let the smaller one win from time to time.
“That’s pretty accurate. My job isn’t to come out firing. My job is to try and make sure there isn't a single shot fired at all. I meet with other MCs when they have disputes. I really do try to come up with an agreement that both clubs benefit from.”
I took the soap from him, and Trask let me turn his back to me. As I ran my hands over his corded muscles, I asked, “Does it work?”
Trask put his hands up on the shower wall, leaning against it as I washed him. “Sometimes. Sometimes it doesn't.”
“What happens then?”
“That’s when I get to live up to my name. You know I was in the Navy, right?”
As he asked, I looked to his left arm and saw the eagle perched on an anchor in the background. I ran my fingers over the inked skin. “Mmhm.”
“I went to SEAL school, too. Not sure if you knew that. Didn’t make it through, but I got plenty of training that still comes in handy. When negotiations fail, I usually clear things up quietly. The club likes to stay out of the news, you understand.” He talked like it was no big deal, and he disguised a lot of the details, but I understood.
I had assumed the motorcycle club operated like a shoot ‘em up movie, loaded to the teeth and ready to blow up anyone or anything in their way. Trask made it sound like he did the dirty work in the shadows.
My voice dropped, not that anyone was listening in. “You’ve done it before?”
Trask knew exactly what I meant. “I have. I’ve been with the Rising Sons for nearly five years, and I moved up to the rank of Sergeant at Arms two years ago. In my five years with the club, I’ve pulled the trigger seven times.”
Trask spun around, still half-covered in lather. The water was still hot on my skin, but a cold shiver ran down my back.
“Ten years makes a lot of difference, huh, Hope?” His eyes seemed darker, and I knew he had revealed something deep. I didn’t know how to react, so I didn’t. My mouth hung open slightly as he took me in.
I knew I had to speak, so I managed to say, “I don't know what to say, Trask.” It was the worst thing to say.
“Don’t kid yourself about me, Hope. You came to me knowing what I did. You just didn't want it to be true. You never wanted me to go into the military. I knew that. You didn't have to say it, but I knew. But here’s the thing: you came to me yesterday. You found me out do to the exact thing you never wanted. So you can go ahead and hate me for what I do, but you can’t ask me to do it at the same time.”
He slid the glass door back, stepping out of the shower.
“Trask, I—”
“No. You make up your mind. You don’t get to love a sunset, then complain that you’ve gone blind. Look away, or drink the view in, but don’t try to guilt me while you use me.” His voice got angrier as he spoke, and a moment later, I was left standing naked in the shower, trapped, hurt, and confused.
***
I gave him some time before I got out of the shower. I think we both needed to think. Our reunion had been a whirlwind, and there were many hurt feelings left over from high school, and on top of that, a new world that each of us had to understand the other’s place in.
Trask was right. Nick and I had come to him looking for a
Similar Books
