Blue Eyed Rebel

The Aces and Eights MC hadn't changed in the last three years. As Aimee sat astride her bike in the parking lot, contemplating what she was about to do, she couldn't help but notice all of the regulars iron horses were in the usual places, meaning a club meeting was underway.

The past three days had been spent crying miserably, holed up in her small downtown apartment, Aimee's whole future had been torn from her, and she was devastated.

But at the end of those three days, she had managed to channel that pain into something more productive..rage, and damn, was she angry.

With the help of a few old friends, Aimee gathered anything that reminded her of Connor from her apartment, clothes, cards, past gifts, CDs, aftershave, her Stepford wife clothes, even photos they had taken together.

The loyal few followed behind her bike like a funeral procession, in their beat-up cars filled with his belongings as Aimee made her way to their special place, and once there, overlooking the ocean and making sure her friends bore witness, Aimee Carter lit her past on fire. As the flames burned higher, engulfing her memories, her hopes, and her heartbreak, her inner flames consumed her, and rising from the ashes, the Aces and Eights princess was reborn.

---

The sun beat down on her midnight hair as Aimee waited patiently for the chapter meeting to end; growing up amongst it, she knew the consequences of disrespecting the order of things in club life. Her Dad was especially brutal in his leadership.

William "Wild Bill" Carter made his bones at the tender age of fourteen. He earned his handle because of his ruthless nature and cunning intellect, and standing at six foot five of lethal muscle Wild Bill had challenged for President and won on his 18th birthday. He had ruled with an iron fist ever since.

Aimee and her younger sister Tatiana were bought up by the grizzled riders and one or two club rotters (hookers) with maternal urges over the years, their mother having passed away during Tatiana's birth. Aimee was only two years old at the time and had no recollection of her.

Now, at aged twenty-one, Aimee had more of an understanding of how hard things must have been for her Dad; he had barely turned twenty when Tatiana was born and found himself the single parent of not one but two girls when his presidency was still fairly new.

Of course, mistakes were made, and things were said in the heat of the moment. Aimee just hoped that, like her, William had had a chance to put things in perspective during the past three years.

Aimee looked up with narrowed eyes as the clubhouse door opened, and the sound of belly laughter reached her ears.

The music had started back up inside, the clubhouse bar, aptly named the Wild West, was starting to come alive, and a few riders jostled their way out the front door, lighting up their cigarettes.

One figure, in particular, seemed to sense that they weren't alone, his grey eyes doing a quick search of the parking lot and finally coming to rest on her tiny figure...Braxton.

Breaking away from the others, the club's sergeant at arms swaggered over to where Aimee was parked.

Finally, his leanly muscled frame stopped in front of her, and Aimee suppressed an instinctive shiver of appreciation as his deep gravelly voice uttered one word.

"Aimee."

It wasn't a question. Despite being five years older than Aimee, Braxton Hayes had made his intentions towards her clear the moment she turned fifteen, he had laid claim to her and became her protective bodyguard until Aimee came of age at eighteen-her fathers words, not his- when Duncan would formally declare his eldest daughter Braxton's old lady, or in their club, his queen, the bikers other half, and the one they swore to forsake all others for.

Except that it hadn't turned out that way. Instead of giving her heart to the man who had protected her, Aimee had fallen for Conner's fantasy life, turned her back on her family, and never looked back.

Except, now here she was, back at square one, face to face with her teenage crush and the man she'd left behind.

"Why are you here, Aimee?"

Braxton shifted restlessly on his feet, running his hands through his thick brown hair, and flaying Aimee wide open with his flinty grey eyes.

She was reminded once again why he was called The Henchman, harvester of souls.. his very presence radiated raw dangerous power; it didn't help that he exuded dominant sexuality. She recalled once, a long time ago, one of the rotters referred to him as sex on a stick; Aimee subconsciously wet her lips as she thought to herself, she could certainly see why.

It took a moment for her to realize that Brax was waiting for an answer, and it dawned on Aimee that he was asking her in a formal capacity, as the Sergeant at arms, her father's Capo, and not as her one time betrothed in the bikers world.

"Sh*t Brax," She huffed, standing tall and meeting his gaze, unflinching despite the glare of the sun, and the man in front of her, "Can we just cut the crap? If*cked up, and now I'm here to eat sh*t, apologize to my father, and hope like f*ck that he will take pity on me, and take me back, I am home now and ready to commit to the club, maybe see my baby sister, probably get drunk, depending on how well this goes, and try my damndest to forget the last 3 years of my life, got a problem with that?!"

She was secretly proud of the fact that she managed to deliver a response without her voice trembling, and despite himself, Brax let out a reluctant chuckle.

"Jesus, baby girl, you may look like an angel, but you've still got a nasty ass mouth on you, and your halo is as crooked as f*ck. You'll find the Prez in his office."

He revealed gruffly; as Aimee went to brush past her former crush, the touch of a hand on her shoulder made her gasp as tingles exploded where their bodies connected.

Braxton leaned over, his gorgeous mouth nuzzling against her neck, making her instantly wet, imagining what he was about to do, but his lips barely brushed her ear as he whispered, "Go easy on him, Aimee, the last three years haven't been kind, and your Dad may bite before he thinks."

With that said, he straightened, tipped his head to her, and turned away, striding back to his comrades and leaving Aimee flustered and alone.