Dyno

By Lela Lynn

Go home, Dyno!

Scolded like a child, Dyno leaves the Devil’s Brothers MC Clubhouse and mounts his old Harley Panhead. The hour-and-a-half ride gives him too much time to think. Unable to forget a one-night stand has taken him off the deep end. He should have just forgotten her like every other woman, but there was just something about her that made him break his unspoken rule. Now he heads home to get his shit together before he is successful in trying to hurt himselfall over a skirt.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Apr 8, 2022
• ISBN: 9781662468070

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Dyno

Lela Lynn

Copyright © 2022 Lela Lynn

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2022

This book is fiction. Any resemblance to any person, place, or event is purely coincidental.

ISBN 978-1-6624-6808-7 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-6624-6807-0 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Introduction

For my husband, who brought me into the biker world and gave me the gift of having the largest family than I could ever imagine.

He was maybe five or six when I first met him. Blond hair, big brown eyes, no shirt, shorts, no shoes, and a popsicle ring around his mouth. His baby sister propped up on his nonexistent hip. His middle sister was at his side. His mother was on the porch, telling Dobbie to Watch it, although I can’t remember what he was supposed to be watching now. The dog took his job very seriously as did this big brother as he watched his sisters in the yard. He was ready to protect them with all three and a half feet of his being. He stole my heart that day, the man inside that little boy.

As the brother and sisters grew, they became more entwined within my life, becoming like my own children. It was not unusual to find my children at their house or them at mine. Our door always opened for the children—a refuge when one was needed, a place to play and learn and just have fun as their home was as well.

As he grew into a teen, he became the kind of friend that any friend would want. He was loyal and fun-loving.

But life happens, and they eventually moved away. But he never forgot me. One day, out of the blue, a pickup truck pulls in my drive; and out he hops just to say hi while he was in the area.

I respected the man that he became. He loved his family, and his kids meant the world to him. He loved his woman, not afraid to let the world know about it. He loved his job and worked hard to give his family everything they wanted.

Don’t get me wrong. He was a little rough around the edges and more than mischievous when he wanted to be, but he was a good man.

But fate has its own plans that we can never understand. Things don’t always happen as we think they should.

He was more than a good son.

He was more than a good brother.

He was more than a good father, friend, or coworker.

Only those who knew him will understand when I say.

He was more…

He was Otto.

In memory of Otto Francis Wentzel, 10-12-1982 to 12-16-2020.

A special thanks to Cindi for being my proofreader and sounding board for Dyno.

I couldn’t have done it without you.

Acknowledgment

Year 2020 has been a very strange year for all of us. We’ve lost family and friends and welcomed new ones. We’ve changed the way we do things from shopping to work, attempting to keep things as normal as possible during a worldwide pandemic. COVID-19 changed our lives. It shut down airports, no planes in the sky. It shut down restaurants, making some go to carry-out food only. It shut down the bars and nightclubs, no drinking or dancing away from home. It changed the way we work. Many places were going for work from home to keep the employees safe. Only essential workers continued to go to work daily. It changed the way our children learn, many going to home schooling with the help from teachers online. Graduation ceremonies and weddings were cancelled. No bike weeks anywhere, no pro sports, no new movies. The boarders shut down between Canada and the United States. Borders closed to Mexico too. People were stranded away from home. Cruise ships were unable to unload passengers due to people being sick onboard. People hoarded toilet paper and cleaning supplies. Store shelves were empty.

This has definitely been a learning curve for all of us. Masks were worn to help stop the spread, vaccines rushed to be made and being allowed to be given without FDA approval. Clinics set up in convention centers and parking lots to get the vaccines to as many as possible. Many refusing to take them because they were made so quickly. I wonder if it will ever go back to the way it was before COVID-19.

So I want to say thank you to all the essential workers, the doctors and nurses, the soldiers and the postal workers, the waiters, waitresses, cooks, and restaurant owners, the cashiers and store owners, the manufactures that rushed to get us cleaning supplies, hand sanitizers, and masks. If I missed any please know you are included in my thanks.

Introduction

Bikers are a different breed. They live life like each day could be their last because, in reality, it very well could be. Some people in cages (cars and trucks) don’t watch for bikes as closely as they should. There are a lot of blind spots in cages. As bikers, we try to stay out of these blind spots, but sometimes it’s impossible. A car will change lanes and not notice the bike beside it. If you are lucky, you can quickly swerve out of the way, but many times, this is not the case. When a rider lets off the throttle, the bike slows quickly even without braking. This causes some bikers to be hit from behind. Quite frankly, a car versus a bike can only end in injury for a rider and, if you aren’t that fortunate, death.

Bikers ride fast, live life to the fullest, and love deep. Their club will always be first in their lives if they belong to one. Their brother and sister riders—family. They never meet a biker that is a stranger, for they are all cut from the same cloth. Their women, men, and children mean the world to them, and they better not be messed with or you might just feel their wrath. Their bike is an extension of themselves. They give it personal touches (shiny parts, exhaust, paint) that make the bike theirs alone. It doesn’t matter what you ride as long as you ride.

The unwritten code says you never leave a brother or sister stranded on the side of the road. A helmet behind the back tire is a signal that that biker is broken down and needs help. As they pass another rider in oncoming traffic, it’s a sign of love and respect to extend a peace sign with two fingers, signaling the other rider to keep two wheels on the road, an unspoken wish for safe travels for that rider.

Characters

Definitions

Go home, Dyno, and don’t come back until you have your shit together!

But—

No buts. Get on your fucking bike and ride, or I will throw your ass in the pickup and drive you there myself.

* * *

Once in every man’s life, you meet that one girl. You know, the one. The one you can never forget. She’s beautiful, she’s sexy, she gives as good as she gets in the sack. She’s freaky, she’s twisted, she’s kinky, and she’s just fun to be with. But when you are a biker, in a 1%MC, she’s just taking a walk on the wild side for a little while. You’re good enough to fuck, but you just don’t meet the standard of man she is looking for in a keeper. Doesn’t really matter if you are worth ten dollars or a cool million. They take one look and say, Oooh, bad boy, just what I need for a little fun tonight. They meet every fantasy you ever had, then they walk away, and you’re left wondering what the fuck happened. For me, that girl was my sister’s best friend. Her name was Kally. She came home from college for the weekend with my twin sister, Shelly.

I fell in love at first sight. I tried to play it cool, but my dick kept getting hard just looking at her. My sister introduced her. When she spoke my name, it was like…like…like the sound of my Harley on a warm foggy early morning echoing off the mountains that surrounded our home. I’d come home for a visit before moving to Nashville permanently. I’d been in the Devil’s Brothers MC since I turned eighteen. I’d ride an hour and a half for every church meeting, and on weekends, I’d stay at the clubhouse. Shelly had been hanging out with Mouse whenever he got the urge to come and pick her up if she came home on the weekend. I thought he was supposed to come that night, but since Kally was with her, their plans must have changed. They hadn’t.

I got stuck with Shelly’s best friend on the back of my ride, her warm legs surrounding the outside of mine, her arms wrapped around my waist, her tits pressed against my back. It was tantalizing. It was like something in a dream. It was heaven. It was pure torture—an hour and a half ride with my dick hard enough to pound nails. Every now and then, she’d lean forward to say something. I could smell her perfume; it was intoxicating. I jokingly said that since Shelly was with Mouse, she would have to stay in my room with me. I had really intended on giving the girls my room and just crashing on the couch downstairs in the clubhouse.

To my surprise, she said okay with a big smile on her face. That got my head spinning. Did she expect me to be a gentleman, or did she want to fuck me? Would she expect a wild night, or was she just an uptight little tease? Instead, she blew my mind. She was the hottest thing I’d ever had in my bed. She was. I’m not sure I have enough words to describe that night. She was creative, she was flexible, she was kinky, she was insatiable. We didn’t come out of my room for more than forty-eight hours, and we never slept. I had never had a girl like her. She was as horny as any man I’d ever known. She was willing to try anything, and I mean anything. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have sworn she was doing ludes or something. She could drink like a fish, she didn’t get sick, she didn’t get rip-roaring drunk, she just kept enough of a buzz that she had no inhibitions. She matched me shot for shot and beer for beer. Then the weekend was over, and she walked out of my life. I’d ask Shelly how she was, and I’d get an okay.

When I’d ask if she was coming with her when she came home on this weekend or that, she would just ignore the question or say, I don’t know for sure. I’m not stupid, Kally was done with me. Her loss. I could move on, no problem. I couldn’t. I tried to forget her. I was always drunk, trying to drink her memory away. I fucked every skirt that was willing. I’d make them all leave as soon as I was done. I couldn’t stand to be in anyone’s company. My brothers took it in stride. We’ve all been there at least once in our life. When I started getting reckless, Hollywood put an end to it. He told me to go back home for a while, not to come back until I had my shit together. I hadn’t bothered coming home in three years. No need to. Shelly was back home and took care of Mom.

Mom’s MS had gotten worse; she was wheelchair bound, but she wouldn’t hear of her son having to help her bathe, so she said no when I offered to move back home. Shelly never talked about Kally after our weekend together. I alienated my twin sister, and I’d lost the best woman who ever existed. Now I had to go home? Hollywood said he would call tonight and expected to talk to my mother when he did. They went back a long way. They would jokingly say they were cousins of the heart. They were neighbors when they were growing up. Went to school together, went to prom together, as friends. Dad enlisted right out of high school. He was a year ahead of Mom. So Uncle Brad, a.k.a., Hollywood, stepped in for him. After Dad died, they became a lot closer. Mom and Vegas had become very good friends when Hollywood hooked up with her. Mom was a one-man girl. She wouldn’t even date after Dad died.

Sometimes I thought of Hollywood more as a dad than my prez. When he told me to do something, I felt an obligation to do exactly as he said. So here I am, riding the one-hundred-plus miles to my old home to see my mother who doesn’t want me around and my twin who doesn’t want to talk to me anymore. This is just going to be a hoot. Hope I can get my head on straight fast because I’m not sure I even want to be there any more than they are going to want me there. I purposely didn’t let them know I was coming; the last time I called, I could swear that something was wrong. So in less than an hour now, I’ll be home. Maybe for the last time ever.

* * *

Why the fuck does this shit always happen to me! Dyno says, throwing the small wrench from his travel pack on the ground. Now it’s fucking dark, I’m starving, and this motherfucker is missing like a bitch. Please let it last just fifteen more miles. If it dies then, I’ll just push the son-of-a-bitch the rest of the way home. Three times in the last hour, he has had to stop and clean the spark plug just to keep it running. Between that and sitting for five hours waiting for the cops to clean up the massive wreck on the interstate, he is arriving much later than planned. Five hours in the summer heat, bike idling under him, every time he switched it off, traffic would move more than a car length and he had to start it back up.

It’s after midnight when he pushes the bike into the yard. The house is dark as he figured it would be. Not wanting to disturb his mom and sister this late at night, he uses the key to the apartment he used to occupy above the garage and let himself in, not even bothering with the lights. Fuck food, I’m beat, he thinks as he undresses on his way to the bedroom, hanging his cut on the back of the stool at the kitchen island. Colors never touch the ground unless you go down on a ride and you are in them, his mind tells him for the millionth time. He crawls into the bed, punches the pillow, and quickly falls into a deep sleep. He is awakened hours later by a small body climbing over his.

Mommy, I not feel okay, the tiny voice says. Mommy?

Dyno stays as quiet as he can, realizing that there is a woman wrapped around him; by the feel of her warm skin, she is also naked in the bed. He reaches his hand up over her mouth, startling her from the best sleep she has had in three years.

Don’t scream. I didn’t know Mom rented out my old apartment. I’m sorry. I can’t get up right now because like you, I do not have on a stitch of clothes and I do not want to scare your little girl. She said she doesn’t feel good. Can you stay calm if I remove my hand? he whispers to her.

Mommy, am I sick again? Will I die this time? Will I see God? Will I get to see Gramma again?

She shakes her head yes and then attempts to talk. Dyno removes his hand, and she whispers back, Brent, it’s okay. It’s me, Kally. I’m not going to scream. But after I take care of this, we really need to talk. Then it will be my turn to say I’m sorry.

Tory, baby, let’s check your temperature, she says, reaching for the light switch on the small lamp beside the bed. Does your tummy hurt? She reached into the nightstand, bringing out what looks like a whole medical kit.

No, Mommy, it feels like before.

What did you eat when Aunt Shelly watched you last night while Mommy worked?

We had pizza and pop, she says, snapping the P at the end. Then I had ice cream and cookies.

Was it chocolate?

Yep.

That’s the best, she says to Tory. Damn it, Shelly, she says under her breath. Okay, let Mommy prick your finger.

Do you have to? It hurts.

Baby, you know I have to, she says, wiping her tiny finger with an alcohol pad. Can you sing me the song?

A, B, C, D, F, E, B, H, J, I, M, N, L, O, B, T, Q, R, T, V, U, S, double U, X by Z.

Good girl. Now we wait.

"It’s 486. Aunt Shell is in big trouble," Kally says.

Do I have to go to the hospital?

Not this time, baby. Brent, can you reach me the pen injector in the fridge next to you? Open this tip and screw it on, she says, handing him a piece of blue plastic with a seal on the end. Turn the dial until it stops. Then carefully remove the cap, just don’t touch the needle tip.

Brent, is he my daddy? You said his name was Brent. Are you my daddy? she asks jumping on top of him.

He looks at Kally, silently questioning her. She looks back trying to keep her face neutral. She ignores the questions and lifts Tory’s nightie, exposing her thigh. Okay, baby, here’s the poke. Give me your brave face, she says and sticks the short needle into her leg. Tory’s little face scrunched, her eyes wide, her teeth clenched, her mouth pulled back in a grimace. All done. Do you want a bottle of water?

Yes please. Do I have to go back to sleep?

You can turn on your movie and watch it until you fall asleep.

Okay, Tory answers climbing over Dyno, slipping back to the floor, skipping out of the room at 3:00 a.m.

"Okay, spill it, Kally. I saw those eyes. She is my daughter, isn’t she?"

Kally looks down, trying to figure out how to answer his question. Instead of answers, she finds her eyes focusing on his wide muscular chest, the dark springy curls beckoning her fingers, the fine line of hair between his six-pack abs leading to his trim waist and below that, her imagination remembering the only cock that has ever been between her legs. She forces her eyes to his face, watching his gold eyes sparkle in the dim light. Eyes like only two other people she’s ever seen—her best friend, Shelly, and her own daughter, Tory.

Brent, this is really complicated.

It’s not complicated. She either is or she isn’t, he says, trying to keep his voice low and his temper hidden.

It is. Just please hear me out. Then if you want me to, I’ll leave. I don’t have anywhere else to go, but I’ll find someplace. I’ve saved a little money since I got hired at the diner, not much because of the costs of hospitals and meds. But I can get by.

"I’m trying to be patient, but you better start talking and fast, Kally. You’ve had my daughter for, what, two years and a couple months and didn’t think it was something you should, you know, fuckin’ tell me about? Oh, and you will not leave here with my child, so get that thought out of your pretty little head. Start talking Kally. Now!"

Okay, she says, pacing the floor in front of him, totally unconcerned about her nakedness. The day that Shelly and I got back to school, I got a call from my stepfather. My mother had been diagnosed with cancer six months earlier. He told me to finish the week, then come home. He wasn’t going to pay for any more of my classes. My mother needed someone to take care of her. It wasn’t his job and I’d better come home by the weekend or he was shipping her off to some hospice and letting her die. Said it would be easier for her and wouldn’t cost nearly as much. She takes a calming breath, tries to sit down, then stands up again and resumes pacing. "I asked Shelly not to tell you where I was. My stepfather was a royal prick, and I didn’t want anything upsetting things for my mother. I knew he wouldn’t approve of you. You’re a biker. He’s this rich, uppity know-it-all. How the hell my mother ended up with him, I’ll never know. I went home to take care of her. She was really in bad shape.

"The prick hadn’t had her to any doctors since she was told she had cancer. Her insides were eating themselves up, and he didn’t even get her a fucking pain pill. I took her to the hospital. They admitted her. I spent two weeks sleeping in a fucking chair by her bed, praying to God, the devil, and any other deity that would listen. I wouldn’t even leave to go home and get clothes. I was afraid she would die if I left. Her worthless piece-of-shit husband didn’t even bother coming to see her. Fifteen years of marriage and he couldn’t even look at her. They did surgery on her after they got her stable. She lost half of her stomach, six feet of bowel, and one of her kidneys. When they released her, I took her home. He had moved all her things to an empty wing of the house. Mine too.

"I was expected to stay