Blood Bond

By David Donaghe

When Mike McDonald left Nebraska he thought that he had left the blood and violence behind. After having a tryst with a young college student in a motel room west of Chicago, Mike stops for gas before riding east to see his brother Johnny in New York City. His thought was to spend some quality time with his brother and enjoy some peace and quiet, but when he sees the ghost of his dead wife Sharon standing in front of his motorcycle, it throws his plans into a tail spin. She says five words. “Hurry Michael. Johnny needs you.” Mike calls his brother Johnny’s cell phone and Johnny’s girl friend answers. She tells him that someone put a bomb under Johnny’s car and that Johnny is in the hospital in a coma.
After contacting, Big Al the national president of the Green River Boys motorcycle club Mike rolls hard for New York City where once again he goes to war with some Irish thugs and the Italian mob. After the last body hits the floor in New York City, Mike spends the holidays bonding with his brother and his girl friend Connie along with the upstate New York chapter of the Green River Boys and then heads south to Florida looking for a place to settle down. Will he be able live a life of peace or once more get caught up in a web of violence and bloodshed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: David Donaghe
• Release date: Jan 23, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005833497

David Donaghe

Hello. My name is David Donaghe and I write short stories and novels. I live in the high desert of Southern California with my wife and family. When I am not writing, I enjoy riding motorcycles with my brothers and sisters in The American Cruisers MC. This is where I get some of my ideas for my writing. I also enjoy practicing martial arts. I have several eBooks published so far. Please feel free to browse my profile page and check out my other places on the internet. Please click the link to sign up for my author alerts. Also, I love to hear from my readers. Click this link to my author web page, click on contact the author and sign up to my email list to get my author news letters. If you download any of my books please post a review. I would love to hear what you think. to email me directly mail to: [e-mail] you are in the US military shoot me an email and I will send you a coupon code for 50 percent off on all my eBooks priced over .99 cents. If you want one of my short stories I will send you a coupon so that you can get it free. I enjoy hearing from all of my readers so send me an email and sign up for my Newsletter so I can give you updates on my new releases. If you'd like to review any of my books send me an email and I will send you a coupon code so you can download one of my book for free. Thanks a bunch. I look forward to hearing from you.

Book preview

Blood Bond

By

David Donaghe

Blood Bond

David Donaghe

Published by David Donaghe at Smashwords.Com

2021 Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2020

This eBook is for your enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book please buy another copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not pay for it, please return to your favorite, eBook retailer for another copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Thank you for downloading this eBook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author. You may not redistribute it to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download copies of their own. Thank you for your support.

Disclaimer

All characters in this work are fictitious. All references to any motorcycle club or street gang are also fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is coincidental.

Table of Contents.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Door Number Two Sample Chapters

About the Author

Other Books by David Donaghe

Chapter 1

Gavin McMillan turned his, Lincoln Continental Mark II onto Baker Street in the Bronx. It was two fifteen AM. Snow fell from the sky. He had the heater on and he had the collar of his Armani coat buttoned up close to his neck. Still, he shivered from the cold. Glancing at his face in the rearview mirror, he took in his wrinkled features. He had a receding hairline, an age spot on his left cheek and his gray eyes looked tired. His face looked haggard, but he didn’t think he looked too bad for sixty-five. He puffed on a Lucky Strike cigarette, smoke filled the driver’s compartment and he let out a wheezy cough. God, I hate coming down to the Bronx at night, he thought. Especially on a night like this. If people would mind their own business, this type of thing wouldn’t be necessary.

Driving through one of the more seedy sections of the Bronx, he pulled over to the curb. He parked in front of Baker Street Tattoos, which set next to an Irish pub, known as the Paddy Shack. A green, neon light in the window flashed an image of a four-leaf clover to the outside world. A scrawny red-headed young man with a scruffy goatee stood in front of the tattoo parlor. He wore baggy pants, a wool coat, and a watch cap. He danced back and forth on the balls of his feet. When he saw McMillan, he stepped off the curb and opened the passenger door. A blast of cold air filled the vehicle, and he sat down in the front seat closing the door behind him. Rubbing his hands together to keep warm, the scrawny young man said, It’s a hell of a night to be out and about Mr. McMillan. I trust that you brought the money?

Half now and the other half when you finish the job, as agreed, McMillan said.

This lad sure must have done something to get under your skin.

McMillan’s hands gripped the steering wheel tighter. That’s not your business, O’Grady. Do what I am paying you to do and don’t ask questions, McMillan said.

O’Grady put his hands in the air. Take it easy pops. I was only making conversation. When the Baker Street Boys take on a job, we get it done and we don’t talk about it.

Look, Shawn, I also want your boys to trash his house. I want his computer, and any CD ROM disk that you find and any paper files with the firm’s logo on them.

We’ll get it done. Tomorrow’s Monday. We should have this wrapped up by Wednesday. I’ll be expecting another envelope filled with cash by Friday.

Make yourself available next Saturday evening around midnight. We have another shipment coming in. I’ll need three or four of your boys to unload the stuff. I want your boys to put it out on the street as fast as you can. I want to make a quick turnaround on this one so we can all make some fast money.

Are we meeting at the usual place? O’Grady asked.

McMillan paused watching the tiny snowflakes hitting the windshield. Yeah, and Shawn, if you screw me on either one of these deals, you're dead.

Shawn chuckled. I told you pops when the Baker Street Boys take on a job, we get it done, but that goes both ways. If you leave us hanging out to dry, it could become a very explosive situation. You know how us Irish lads like things that go boom, Shawn said and then laughed.

Glancing at the flakes of snow falling off of O’Grady’s body, anger surged through McMillan. He handed over an envelope filled with cash. Here’s the first half of your money. You’ll get the rest when you finish the job and I have the merchandise that I requested. Now get the fuck out of my car you’re making a mess.

Shawn took the money and then sighed, not wanting to get out of the warm vehicle. See you later pops, he said and then stepped out to the curb and slammed the door. McMillan pulled away from the curb. He caught the nearest onramp to the interstate. His windshield wipers struggled to clear away the snow. He headed for his high-dollar home on Stanton Island while snow fell onto the streets of New York City.

***

The beeping sound of the alarm on his cell phone woke John David McDonald from a sound sleep. The first thing he noticed before he opened his eyes was the tingling sensation in his arm. The second thing he noticed was the pleasant sensation of a female breast in the palm of his right hand. He opened his eyes and smiled. He took in the naked form of Connie Brooks sleeping next to him in his California King-sized bed. He pulled his arm from underneath her and leaned back taking in her beauty. He admired her shapely back, her long raven dark hair, the swell of her breasts, and her tanned muscled yet soft body. He glanced at the small butterfly tattoo on her shoulder. Good Lord am I ever glad that I took Mike’s advice back when I was helping him out of that bit of trouble in Nebraska. He said that I should contact her on the web, he thought. She has been a ray of sunshine ever since she arrived.

His thoughts drifted to his soon-to-be ex-wife Nicole, who was suing him for divorce. She was also suing him for custody of his two kids. She was living in his two-story house on Long Island. He had been in a deep funk since Nicole kicked him out of the house. Having Connie here with him had let some happiness back into his life. When he found her on the web and then called her, he didn’t think they would hit it off. Having her come to New York City for a visit had been one of the best decisions that he had made in quite a while. It had taken his attention away from his bitter divorce, as well as the unpleasantness down at the firm. John sighed. That is something I have to deal with today. I hope it doesn’t get too ugly, he thought. Anger shot through him. Why couldn’t Gavin keep things on the up and up? It’s not like we’re not making enough money. Now the firm is in jeopardy. John slid out of bed, crossed the bedroom in the nude, and headed to the bathroom down the hall. Goosebumps formed up, on his exposed flesh. He stepped into the shower and turned up the hot water. He let the invigorating water chase the fogginess of sleep from his brain. He had been in the shower for about a minute when the bathroom door opened. Connie stepped into the shower with him. She didn’t say a word. She pressed her succulent body up against his and kissed him. Their tongues touched, John felt himself growing hard and his hand found her left breast. Connie’s nipple hardened under his hand.

They stood there kissing under the hot water prolonging the embrace. Connie pulled away. She turned around and bent over pressing her ass up against his crotch. Do me in the shower, she said.

She positioned herself, granting him access. He guided his stiff member into her moist center and did as instructed. Connie let out a squeal of ecstasy as John slammed into her from behind bringing her to a quick orgasm. She fell against the shower wall, her legs weak and she was almost unable to stand when they were through. Thank you, sir. I needed that, Connie said, and then turned around and kissed him again.

So did I, John said. You put a bright spot in what is going to be a very bad day.

Why don’t you call the police?

John sighed. I want to give him a chance to do the right thing. He hired me when I was fresh out of law school and made me his partner. It’s sad, that it has come down to this.

I am sure that whatever happens, you’ll be able to handle it. You’re strong. When you get home, I’ll put some more sunlight in your day, she said and then kissed him again.

Finished in the shower, they dried off. John took a blue robe from the hook on the bathroom door and handed it to Connie. He took a brown one off the hook for himself. How do pancakes, fried bacon, and eggs sound for breakfast? he asked.

It sounds wonderful, Connie said and put on her robe. But do you have the time?

I’ll take the time.

Finished in the bathroom, they stepped out into the hallway. I’m going to go get dressed, Connie said and retreated into the bedroom.

I’ll start breakfast, John said. He headed into the kitchen and draped his bathrobe over a barstool at the breakfast bar. He crossed the kitchen, took a white apron from a hook on the door of the broom closet, and put it on. Connie came back into the kitchen, catching him bent over with his ass in the air. He was retrieving a flat of eggs from the refrigerator. She let out a giggle, stepped up behind him, and gave him a playful slap on the ass. John stood up, holding a flat of eggs in his hands, and turned around facing her. Have a seat, my dear. Breakfast will be in about ten minutes.

Connie, now dressed in a pair of tight designer jeans and a gray sweater, sat down at the breakfast bar to watch the show. I must be special. It’s not every day that I have a naked man serve me breakfast, she said and laughed.

John grinned. I’m not naked. I’m wearing an apron.

Might as well be, Connie said.

John took a frying pan from a lower cupboard and went to the refrigerator to retrieve the bacon. Connie admired his bare ass when he bent over to get the frying pan. He started a pot of coffee, poured a pitcher of orange juice, and fried the bacon. Soon the smell of frying bacon and brewing coffee filled the kitchen.

What made you decide to get in contact with me? Connie asked.

A few weeks ago I went to Nebraska to help my brother Mike out of a jam. While he was in jail, we talked. He mentioned having lunch with you and your girlfriends at Denny’s after he came back from the war. He said that you asked about me and that I should look you up on the web.

I remember that day. Sharon was there. After that, they started hanging out and then got married. It’s terrible what happened to them, Connie said.

Yeah, that messed Mike up. He’s still not over her, John said.

I remember that he looked, handsome in his uniform.

You might not recognize him if you saw him today. He’s changed. Not only his appearance but his personality as well, he said.

How so?

For one thing, he rides a Harley now. He hangs around with bikers, hell he is a biker. He’s a bit rougher around the edges, a bit more serious.

I can understand that. You can’t have something happen to you like what happened to him and Sharon and it not change you. Then there’s what he did afterward, Connie said.

John sighed. Tell me about it. It’s still hard to believe that he took on an entire outlaw motorcycle club pretty much by himself. What’s hardest for me to believe is that he’s not in prison. John finished cooking breakfast and set a plate down in front of Connie. He poured them each a cup of coffee and a glass of orange juice. He took a stool from her side of the breakfast bar, and set it down where he could sit facing her while they ate.

These eggs are delicious. What happened in Nebraska? Connie asked.

They were holding him on a trumped-up murder charge. There was this woman, a Mrs. Chandler who owned a ranch. She had a section of land down by a river and this local real estate developer wanted it. She didn’t want to sell, so the guy hired some Irish and Italian gangsters to put some pressure on her to sell. Mike called up his biker buddies and they went to war. Again, I am surprised he didn’t wind up in prison.

Mike always had a kind heart. He reminds me of you in that way. When we were kids it seemed like you were the one always getting into trouble, Connie said.

Yeah, until we got older. What Mike did to help that Chandler woman was a good thing. He might be rough, but you are right. He does have a good heart. Don’t try to hurt any of his friends or family. Then he’ll kill you. He has a low tolerance for assholes.

Connie giggled. Do you remember that time when we all went skinny dipping at City Creek?

He laughed and took a bite out of a piece of bacon. How could I forget? It was one of the highlights of my youth.

I had such a big crush on you after that. I am glad you listened to your brother and reached out to me, Connie said and smiled.

Me too. These past few days have been outstanding. You’ve put some happiness back into my dreary life.

Connie reached across the breakfast bar and took his hand. Your life’s not dreary. You’re a high-dollar attorney; you have a nice house and a nice apartment. You’re going through a rough patch right now, she said.

John sighed. A nice house that my soon-to-be ex-wife is going to take.

So what? Once you get this business settled at the firm and put your nose back to the grindstone, you can buy another house. And now you’ve got me, Connie said. She leaned across the breakfast bar and kissed him.

Finished with breakfast John said, I guess I’d better get these dishes done then head down to the firm.

Connie stood to her feet. You go get dressed. I’ll do the dishes.

He went to the bedroom, picked himself out a blue leisure suit from his closet, and then dressed. He stepped into the living room, waiting until Connie finished the breakfast dishes. I hate leaving you like this, but this is something that can’t wait.

I know. You can’t stop your life because I’m here.

While I’m gone you could either watch TV or take a subway down to the village and do some shopping. I’ll be back in a few hours, John said.

I’m a big girl. I can entertain myself. I'm going to head back to the bedroom and finish that romance novel that I was reading. Take all the time you need. I’ll be here when you get back. John stepped up to her. She kissed him he pulled her close breathing in the smell of her perfume prolonging the kiss. They broke the embrace, said their goodbyes, and John stepped out the door. Heading back into the bedroom, Connie paused looking about the room. She noticed John’s cell phone sitting on the nightstand next to his bed. Shit. He forgot his cell phone. I bet I can catch him before he gets to the elevator, she said to herself. She dashed across the room, grabbed the cell phone, and ran out the front door. She ran down to the elevator but John had already taken the elevator down to the parking structure. Shit, she said. She hit the down button hoping to catch him in the underground parking garage before he left for work. Inside the elevator, she breathed in a slight smell of tobacco smoke. The elevator descended to the parking garage.

When John stepped out of his apartment door, he had some extra pep in his step and a smile on his face. He couldn’t remember when he had felt this happy. I need to call Mike and tell him about this, he thought. He headed to the elevator whistling a snappy tune while he strolled along. He hit the down button on the side of the wall at the elevators. The elevator doors slid open. He stepped inside and pressed the button for the parking garage. He took a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket, his Zippo from his pants pocket, and fired up a smoke. His stomach dropped as the elevator descended to the parking garage. When the elevator reached the bottom, the door slid open and John stepped out. He crossed the parking garage to his BMW, climbed in the vehicle, and started it up. Looking up, he saw Connie step out of the elevator and wave her arms at him to get his attention. He opened the driver’s side door, climbed out of the vehicle, and started over to see what she wanted. He took three steps. The BMW exploded showering the parking structure with flaming debris. The explosion propelled him forward. He felt a sheering pain shoot through his head. His vision went white and then he slipped into unconsciousness.

***

Chapter 2

I left Cedar Glen Nebraska with mixed emotions. I left behind some friends, including a woman that wanted more than I was able to give, but I also left a piece of my heart. How could I settle down with a good woman when I was still in love with my dead wife? My wife Sharon and I had lived in Southern California and we were going on our first vacation. We took my Honda Gold Wing. We stopped at this biker bar on the old Route 66 and got ambushed by an outlaw bike club. They called themselves the Lost Souls. They raped and killed Sharon, shot and stabbed me, and left me for dead. That was their mistake. After waking up from a coma that I had been in for three months, I regained my strength and went to war. I almost wiped out an entire motorcycle gang. In Green River Wyoming, I met the Green River Boys who helped me with my war against the Souls. I now consider the Green River Boys to be my brothers.

After the dust cleared, I started back to Southern California to rebuild my life. Somewhere on the road, I realized that I had nothing to go back to, so I turned around and headed back to Wyoming. After partying with the Green River Boys for a few weeks, I headed east. I have a brother in New York City that I wanted to see. There was also some unfinished business with a woman I met while I was in the hospital in Cap Rock Utah. She was a nurse. She wanted me to give up my vendetta against the Souls, but that was something I couldn’t do. After my war with the Souls was over I rode down there and went to the hospital to see her. She had quit her job and took a job at a hospital in New York City. When I left Wyoming that was the plan: to head to New York City.

When I came home from the Persian Gulf War I thought that I had left the violence behind. Then those bastards raped and killed my wife, so I went to war. After that, I headed east looking for a little bit of peace, but trouble has a way of finding me. This time it came in the form of a woman with coal dark hair by the name of Christine Chandler. She had a ranch in Cedar Glen Nebraska, and she had her back against the wall. When I first laid my eyes on Chris, I immediately put my plans on hold. There was a land developer, some worthless bastard named Tom Boxer who wanted a section of her land. Chris didn’t want to sell. He thought that by rustling her cows, and hiring some gangsters to harass her, that she would sell. What he didn’t count on was me and the Green River Boys. Once again I went to war and in the process, Chris and I grew close, but then there was my dead wife Sharon. Like I said, I was still in love with her. I guess I always will be.

I hit the I 80 heading east on a cold December morning, twisted the throttle, and put my face in the wind. I kicked the speed up on the old 1984 Shovelhead up to 75 miles an hour. The weather felt chill, but I had on a good set of leathers and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. That soon changed. After I crossed the border into Iowa I noticed a dark cloud in the distance. I saw lightning flashes and I felt a drop of rain hit my cheek, but I put my head down and motored on down the road. A light rain fell from the sky. It increased its intensity. Gumball-sized drops pounded me like an unloved stepchild. Water covered the road and I couldn’t see because my glasses kept fogging up. When I lowered my glasses, the raindrops hit me in the eyes and semi-trucks flew by me drenching me with water. It was to the point where it was too dangerous to be on the interstate on two wheels and I was looking for a place of refuge. I noticed an exit coming up and I saw an old Baptist church on a side road fronting the interstate. I took the exit, made a right turn then another quick right, and headed down the frontage road to the church. I pulled into the parking lot, crossed a grassy area, and pulled the Harley up onto the church’s front porch. I parked it under a covered awning. Shivering from the cold and feeling like a wet dog, I set the bike on its side stand. Even though I had leathers on, the water still seeped through. I climbed off the bike and took off my wet clothes. I draped them over the bike to drip dry and then took my duffle bag off the bike and changed into a dry set of clothes. I changed my socks and hung the wet ones over my handlebars to dry. Raindrops dripped down onto the front fender. I emptied the water from my boots and then put them back on.

This is fucking great, I said staring out from under the awning watching the rain. I took a cigar from my vest pocket, took a Zippo from my pants pocket, made flame, and lighted the cigar. My hands shook from the cold. Water pooled up in the grass next to the front porch. I took my Bible out from my saddlebag and sat down on the porch and started to read. Some people might have thought it strange that I would sit there in front of a church reading the Good Book. Especially when you considered all the things I’d done, and my violent past. If you’ve ever read the book then you know that God did his share of killing back in the day. Sometimes God uses people as his sword of vengeance, I thought and settled in to read. I read a chapter when I heard the sound of a motorcycle pulling off the interstate. A woman rolled into the church parking lot. She had on a black novelty helmet and a black bandana over her face. She looked soaked to the skin. I stood up, motioned to a spot on the front porch next to my bike, and yelled, Pull up here!

She pulled the bike up on the porch, killed the motor, and set the bike on its side stand. Good Lord that rain is coming down hard, she said and climbed off the bike, dripping water onto the porch. She took off her helmet, hung it on her handlebars. Then she took off her bandana revealing the pretty face of a woman in her early fifties. She had dark brown hair and green eyes.

It sure is. Let me turn around so you can change out of those wet clothes.

She let out a chuckle. I’m not shy, she said and started unsnapping her vest. I turned around anyway out of respect. She hung the vest on the handlebars, took off her shirt and pants along with her bra and panties. She draped everything over the bike. I heard her rummaging around in her saddlebags. She dried off and then put on another set of clothes. You can turn back around now, she said.

When I turned back around, she had on a dry pair of jeans, a white wife-beater t-shirt and she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her nipples pushed up cotton stretching the fabric of her t-shirt. She bent over, putting on a pair of tinny shoes. When she stood back up I stepped forward extending my hand and said, My name’s Mike McDonald. We shook. I breathed in a faint trace of perfume.

My name’s Shannon Stacy Shannon, she said. Noticing my cigar, she said, You wouldn’t happen to have another one of those would you?

Sure, I said, handing her a cigar from my shirt pocket and my lighter from my pants pocket. She fired up the cigar and tobacco smoke lingered in the air. Taking her in, in a glance, I admired what I saw. She had a hard, lean body for a woman in her fifties, plus a beautiful face to go with it. Her hair, tied back in a ponytail hung down to her ass. Where are you headed to Stacy? I asked.

The weather felt chill because of the rain. She went to her gear bag, took out a light jacket, and put it on. I’m headed out to California to see my daughter and grandbabies. They live in Riverside. It’s in Southern California.

I used to live close to there, over in East Highland, which is east of San-Bernardino, I said.

How about you? Where are you headed?

I’m heading east to New York City to visit my brother. It’s a cold time of year to be riding a motorcycle in this part of the country, I said.

Tell me about it, When I come home I’m taking the southern route. I am going to visit some friends down in Alabama.

The old boys I ride with have a couple of chapters down there, I said.

Looking at my vest hanging over my handlebars she said, "The Green River Boys. I’ve heard of them. They’re some good people. I ride with the Gypsies. We’re a family club. The chapter I’m with is in southern Indiana where I’m from. I glanced at the patch. The main patch depicted an old Gypsy wagon with a motorcycle parked behind it. It had a top rocker that said, the Gypsies and no bottom rocker.

Aren’t you afraid of traveling all that way on a motorcycle by yourself? I asked.

She laughed. No, for one thing, I am a black belt in Chinese Kung Fu, but then I have this, she said pulling up her shirt. She had a compact forty-five in a holster clipped to the inside of her pants.

Remind me not to piss you off, I said and laughed.

Stacy chuckled and said, You said that you used to live in California. Where do you live now?

I’m in transition right now. I had some business in Idaho and Wyoming. I spent some time in Sturgis for the rally then I stopped in Nebraska for a while. I’m on my way to visit my brother in New York City. After that, I want to head down to Florida.

Stacy’s eyes widened. I heard of you. You’re that guy who went to war with the Lost Souls.

I sighed and said, Those bastards raped and killed my wife.

I lost my husband last year to a motorcycle crash. That’s what we did together. Ride motorcycles. Now I ride alone. This was his bike.

I took in the 1989 Harley Davidson Soft Tail Custom. It had black paint with red flames on the tank. That’s a sweet bike, I said.

It never gets any easier, does it?

What? I asked.

Losing a spouse.

Not for me, I said.

Do you mind if we sit down? My dogs are getting tired, Stacy said.

Not at all, I said.

We sat. Stacy pulled a flask from the pocket of her jacket and said, Care for a hit of this? It’ll take a little edge off the cold.

What is it? I asked taking the flask.

Gentlemen Jack.

I smiled. There ain’t nothing wrong in this world that a hit of Jack won’t make better. I took a hit from the flask, took a puff from my cigar, and blew smoke rings across the porch. We passed the flask full of Jack back and forth lost in conversation, enjoying each other’s company. The next thing you know, the flask was empty and we were sucking face. We made out on the front porch of the church for a while and then fell asleep in each other’s arms. We were both beaten down by the rain and the road in need of a break.

***

Sunlight hitting me in the face woke me two hours later. I had my arm around Stacy’s body with my hand on her right breast. Her nipple hardened to my touch. Stacy snored while she leaned up against me. I breathed in her fresh scent. Stretching, I turned loose of Stacy’s breast and let out a moan. Stacy began to stir. Wake up Sunshine. It quit raining, I said.

Stacy stretched and pulled away from me. Good Lord. That nap felt good.

Yes it did, I said. We stood up. I took a couple of trash bags from my saddlebag and handed one to Stacy. Here. For your wet clothes, I said.

Thank you.

We put our wet clothes in trash bags. I rolled everything uptight and we packed everything back onto our motorcycles.

If we’re gonna make any miles today, I guess we’d better leave, I said.

Stacy took a business card from one of the compartments on one of her saddlebags. It was from a nail salon in Bedford Indiana. Give me a call if you’re ever in Bedford, she said and then kissed me. Her lips taste of cherry-flavored Chapstick. It was nice meeting you, Michael McDonald.

"It was nice meeting you too, Stacy Shannon, but you can call me Mike. We climbed into the saddle, fired up our motorcycles, and motored off the porch. We had to put our feet down when we crossed the wet grass to the church parking lot. From there we headed out to the road and back up to the interstate on-ramps. I hit the onramp heading east. Stacy took the westbound onramp continuing on her journey to Southern California.

***

I rolled on the throttle trying to make up for the lost time. The weather stayed, cool but the rain, when it came was manageable. I stopped only when I needed gas then after filling up I took a quick smoke break and got back on the road. I crossed the Illinois border and motored on down the highway. I took a quick lunch break and then continued. The wind buffeted the bike, beating me like a piñata at a ten, year old’s birthday party. The temperature dropped my hands felt numb and chills shot up and down my back. I called it good, twenty miles west of Chicago as the sun went down over the Midwest.

I pulled into a Holliday Inn and parked my bike under the awning next to the lobby. Killing the motor, I put the bike on its side stand. I took off my gloves and rubbed my hands together to regain some feeling. A young dark-haired woman went by and smiled. I must be cold out there on that motorcycle, she said.

I about froze my ass off.

She smiled. Sorry for your luck, she said and then entered the motel.

I climbed off the bike, lumbered inside, and stopped for a few seconds enjoying the warm air. I took in the plush green couch and love seat in the lobby along with the TV in a massive entertainment center. The blast of warm air brought some life back to my cold old bones. I stepped up to the counter. A young woman with long red hair and blue eyes smiled at me and said, Can I help you?

I’d like a room.

Smoking or non-smoking? she asked.

Smoking, I said, and I’d like a room with a window that looks out over the parking lot.

Did you ride in on that motorcycle?

Yes I did, I said.

Then you can park the motorcycle right where it is under the awning. Make sure that you park it up close to the curb so other vehicles can get past it, she said.

Thanks that will be fine, I said breathing in her fresh young scent.

You will be in room three twenty-two up on the third floor. The elevators are to my left. The cost will be sixty-five dollars, she said.

I handed her my credit card, she charged my card and gave me my room key. Is there somewhere close where I can buy some beer and some munchies? I asked.

Turn right going out of our parking lot and there’s a conveyance store that will have everything you need. It’s about two blocks down.

How about somewhere to eat? I asked.

"The motel had an excellent, Mexican restaurant.