Treasure
Fresh Starts

Rori stretched on the back patio of their condominium, getting ready for her morning run. She smiled as she loosened up her legs; moving to Florida had been good for a lot of things, but late afternoon exercising in the June heat was not one of them. As the humidity rose, she started waking up before the sunrise. It was something she hated to do, but it was better than the alternative.

Wearing running shorts, a sports bra, and a loose crop top, she jogged to the blacktop bike path that circled the development they lived in and connected to other walking paths in the area. She started slow, jogging the quarter-mile circle until she was behind the townhomes on the other side of her street. “Ready for sprint day,” she asked with an evil grin as she saw Ashley come out the sliding door on the back of her house.

“Oh, man, I’m going to die,” she said. Breaking into a jog, she joined her friend on the path as they settled into their warmup. “Interval training kicks my ass. I can’t believe you LIKE it.”

“It’s what keeps me faster than you,” she said as her iPhone beeped. She took off at a dead sprint; the program would give them short sprints, meant to go at full speed, then longer intervals where they slowed to a medium jog. Ashley groaned as she tried to keep up to her fleet-footed friend. Rori was shorter than her, only about five-foot-five compared to her five-foot-ten, but she was faster and in better shape.

The phone beeped again, and Rori slowed to a jog. Ashley was still twenty yards behind her friend, so she had to keep running a little longer. Of course, that meant her rest period was a little shorter, and it got worse and worse as the run continued until she begged Rori for mercy. “Stop, I can’t do this anymore. How many miles have we done?”

Rori looked at the program on her phone. “Six miles, two to go. Tell you what. Cut across here and I’ll meet you at the road.” Rori took off around the pond, a little over a mile path, while Ashley did a cooldown jog on the quarter-mile shortcut. She stretched while she waited for her to show up, then they jogged the last mile home.

Ashley flopped dramatically onto the chair on the patio behind her house. “Why do I let you do this to me,” she said as she held the back of her hand to her forehead.

“So you don’t tire out in the third round of our spars tonight,” Rori said with a smirk. “See you tonight. At least in the octagon, you can use your weight advantage.”

“WEIGHT! OH, if I could get up, I’d get you back for that,” she said. “See you at five.”

“Have fun at work,” she said before she ran off. Ashley knew Rori would be running hard the rest of the way home, making up for the slower pace with her along. They weren’t in the same class when it came to distance running, but they helped each other out. Ashley had introduced her to weightlifting and mixed martial arts, and together the two friends pushed each other to be better. She had quickly moved up in the ranks at the training center, and regularly gave women and men bigger than her fits with her quickness and endurance.

Rori got home ten minutes later, doing her cooldown and stretching before going inside. “Hi, Grandma,” she said as she walked through the kitchen.

“Morning, dear, how was the workout?”

Rori chugged a glass of water, then filled it again. “Good. Ashley almost puked during interval training.”

Donna came in, already dressed for work at the clinic. “You know, honey, throwing up isn’t the sign of a good workout.”

“Getting choked out by Ashley isn’t a sign of a good workout either,” she said with a laugh. She ran up the stairs to her room, returning fifteen minutes later showered and changed into her painting clothes; old T-shirt, paint-spotted jeans, and old canvas shoes. “Thanks,” she said as Grandma handed her a plate of pancakes and bacon.

“How is the mural coming,” Donna asked.

“I should finish it today,” she replied. “I’d be done already if they didn’t restrict me to weekdays between eight and four. I’ll be seventeen soon! it’s not like I can’t handle myself around the club.”

“I’m not sure the rules are there just for your protection, honey.” Rori blushed, knowing that the club President had called her Mom after she had taken out the knee of a visiting biker who thought she was a young-looking sweet-butt available for a quick fuck. She had quickly taught him to keep his hands to himself. “It’s a biker clubhouse, the last thing they need is to have a sixteen-year-old girl there if the cops show up to the party.”

“Whatever. Some of the Club members are cops, you know.” She looked at the calendar. “I’m going to grab something to eat with Ashley before training tonight, so I’ll be home around ten.” Her breakfast had disappeared quickly, and she kissed both of them before going out to put on her chaps, boots, and leather motorcycle jacket. “Have a good day at work, Mom.”

She put on her backpack, which had a clean set of clothes and her workout gear in it, then walked out to the garage. Her white 2016 Harley-Davidson 883 Sportster Superlow sat near the door, and she took a moment to admire it as the door opened up. The bright-white motorcycle she purchased was now custom-painted by her, and it was breathtaking. On the left side of the gas tank, the head of a rust-colored wolf in full sprint, wind through its fur and mouth partway open, was painted. On the right side, the same wolf was lying down on a rock outcropping, a larger grey, black and white wolf behind her. At the front, you could just see the herd of elk. It was her favorite painting, reproduced where it could advertise her skills. There were plenty of artists who could airbrush, but she used brushes and oils, covered in a clear coat for protection. Her work was striking for its detail and three-dimensional look. The fenders showed a pack of wolves, running full speed and single-file down a forest trail.

She had bought the motorcycle within two days of arriving in Florida, right after she finished her motorcycle safety course and got her Florida license. The bike was powerful, easy to handle, and fun to ride even in the sprawling city that was Orlando. Firing it up, she pulled out of the garage and onto the street towards the clubhouse of the Steel Brotherhood Motorcycle Club.

Pulling into the lot, the warehouse-like structure at the back had all the roll-up doors open to let it air out after last night’s party. She backed her bike into a free space under the awning that provided needed protection from the sun and the afternoon thunderstorms. Leaving her boots in the saddlebags and her leathers folded on her seat under her helmet to dry out, she walked into the cavernous space. “Hey Speedbump,” she said to the big bartender with a killer mullet.

“Rori,” he said with a smile. “You going to finish today?”

“Maybe. It depends on whether anyone threw beer on my work last night.” She walked over towards the wall they had asked her to paint, and she looked behind the green tarp that covered it up. “Looks good,” she said.

“Yeah, the President laid down the law. He even stuck a prospect in front of it all night to make sure no one peeked.” A couple of the prospects were still cleaning up from the party. Gaining membership in a traditional motorcycle club wasn’t easy. You had to be vouched for by a member, then spend at least a year as a prospect, a virtual slave to the members before you could get your patch. The Brothers weren’t a One Percent club, the outlaw bikers, but they controlled membership in the same way.

Their women’s affiliate, called the Steel Ladies, found Rori and brought her in to meet the Club members. When they saw her bike and found out she was the artist, everyone wanted an introduction. She’d ridden with the women, and loved being with them, but couldn’t become a full member of the Ladies until the age of eighteen. In the meantime, they gave her a cut with a Steel Ladies Junior patch and a T-Shirt. The Ladies operated as an auxiliary of the Club, with girlfriends and wives of the male members, as the Club remained male-only in keeping with MC traditions.

Despite her age, the Club accepted her like she was one of their daughters. As such, Rori got invited to the family-friendly events, and the older members made sure she stayed safe. She spent a lot of time with them at the Clubhouse and enjoyed their company. The Brotherhood had chapters all over the United States and into Canada.

Rori removed the tarp and rolled the portable scaffold closer before she started putting paint on her palette. The mural she’d been working on for the last three weeks was almost done, but the hardest parts remained. She needed to get the faces of the five men just right. The bottom four feet of the wall had wood with a beveled chair rail, and the rest was mural. The scene was a beach highway, and the five men on motorcycles were all Club members who had died. They all were on the left side of the painting, leaving room for more in the future.

She was so focused that she didn’t even notice the five men who came and sat at the table behind her. She jumped a little when she turned around, and the President waved her over. “Come on, take a break,” Mongo said. “We got you your favorite.”

A double-cheeseburger with extra bacon and fries was sitting at the empty space. She quickly cleaned her brushes and palette to join them. “It looks just like him,” Tripod said. “You’re damn good.”

“Thanks,” she said to the Vice President before she took a big bite of the burger. “I should finish in a couple of hours.”

“That’s perfect,” the President said. “Tomorrow night we’re having a big party. The Regional President will be down, along with representatives from a dozen other Chapters. I’d like to unveil the mural at the party if it’s ready.”

“No problem. Anytime after four today, you can do it. I’d like to get a few photos of it this afternoon. I need it for my portfolio for my art class.” Rori had started taking classes at the University of Central Florida and was accepted to start full-time as an Art major in the fall.

“Eight o’clock tomorrow, then. Tell your Mom and your Grandmother to come for the unveiling. We’ll do a reveal, toast the memory of the men, and send you home before the debauchery gets too bad.” She shook her head; they always sent her home early! “It’s perfect. The other chapter Presidents are going to be damn jealous of it, and maybe you’ll get more work out of it. If not from this, from when they see your ride.”

At three, the men joined her, and Speedbump took some pictures with her digital camera as they all stood in front of the twenty-foot long memorial wall. They covered it with the tarp, sealing the edges against prying eyes until the reveal. The afternoon thunderstorms were rolling through, so she sat at the bar with them until it was time to go.

She met Ashley at the mall, where they did some shopping before eating at their favorite Mexican restaurant. They shared a Fajita platter before they drove separately to the Mixed Martial Arts club for their lessons. “What is on the training schedule tonight,” Rori said as they walked in.

“Get you gi on, it’s jujitsu time,” the instructor at the desk said.

“Great,” she replied. “More grappling against people heavier than me.”

“Revenge is sweet,” Ashley said. “You can’t run away when I’ve got you pinned to the mat.” It was going to be a long night.

--

His father pulled him back after they had said our goodbyes. “Keep yourself safe over there,” he said. “And whatever you do, keep Coral from killing any of them.”

Chase Nygaard looked over at my sister Coral, who was loading her gear into the saddlebags of her Harley Fat Boy. “Really, Dad? You can’t just Alpha command her?”

“I wish it were that easy to control her, but you know how she is.” Coral was my twin. She was also the favorite to take over as Pack Gamma, the trainer of the Warriors. Smart, fierce, and skilled, she had fought with tooth and claw for the respect of our Pack and others. She was more dominant than Chase, and she learned fighting skills while he was off at college and medical school. Chase had the genes of an Alpha Male and held a size and strength advantage over her, but she would beat him like a drum in the sparring circle. He preferred to sit back and wait to patch up all the ones who thought fighting a ‘girl’ is going to be easy.

Chase’s future was elsewhere. His father Will was only 225 years old, still in his prime. He had found his mate Colletta when he was in his seventies. The oldest brother and Alpha heir, Sawyer, was only 132. The middle brother, Carson, was 87 and slated to be his Beta. Coral and Chase were only twenty-four; he got the brains, and she got the attitude. “You know I’ll be in the clinic, not the training fields. I’ll keep track of the injured cadets she sends me,” he said with a laugh.

“Do what you can, son. I want both of you to take advantage of this; you represent our Pack well, you learn all you can, and you search for your mates. The Council is counting on us to help.” The Bitterroot Academy had expanded beyond its original charter, and now included wolves sent from other Packs if they needed an attitude adjustment. There were more of those than you might have thought, as the Council found during their Pack inspections.

Coral would be staying a year as a combat instructor for the Academy. Chase couldn’t wait to see the males who saw women as playthings getting their asses handed to them by a girl. He promised his brothers he would send them videos of her kicking ass as she established herself.

Chase was on a different track. He was going to work at the Clinic for the summer. In between treating broken bones, Chase would be dealing with the psychological damage left behind by Alpha Todd’s reign. It was a new area for Pack Doctors, what he aspired to be, and only a few people had experience with the treatment of abused wolves. He was lucky enough to get to work with one such psychologist for eight weeks before his last year of medical school.

“Come on, Chase, daylight’s wasting,” Coral teased as she fired up her motorcycle.

“I love you, Dad. We’ll be fine.” He hugged his Mom goodbye and got into the Ford Explorer he was taking because one of them had to be logical and have room for the luggage and supplies. He followed her out the driveway and to the road that would take them through the Cascade Range and east to the former home of a large Pack.

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