Bitsy, p.1
Bitsy, page 1
Bitsy
Carol Dawn
Bitsy
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used without the publisher’s express written permission, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Copyright © 2023 Carolyn Jacobs (Carol Dawn)
All rights reserved.
Published by Carolyn Dawn Jacobs
Cover by Carolyn Dawn Jacobs
Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Names, characters, and places are products of the author’s imagination.
Trigger Warning
This book contains explicit language, graphic sexual situations, and intense violence. Additionally, it delves into a highly sensitive medical topic. Reader discretion is advised. The content within may be distressing or triggering for some individuals. If you are uncomfortable with strong language, sexual content, violence, or find discussions about challenging medical conditions emotionally difficult, it is recommended to approach this material with caution.
Please, prioritize your well-being and mental health while engaging with this book.
Dearest Reader
Bitsy is a known and well-loved character from the Phantoms MC series. While you can read this book as a standalone, you would get a better understanding of who Bitsy is and where she came from if you read the Phantoms MC series, first. I hope that you’re ready to take this journey with me as we follow Bitsy’s path, but I will warn you, have your box of tissues ready. This one is a doozy.
Prologue
Bitsy
“Daddy, it isn’t fair. I’m tired of you treating me like I’m still a five-year-old little girl when I’m twenty-six. Mom, help me out here.”
“Leave your mother out of this, Tiffany Renee.”
Crap. He’s pulling out my government name.
“I just want to ride out for the three-day biker convention,” I say.
“I can’t spare any men to go with you, and it’s too dangerous up there,” he tells me. “You can go next year.”
Next year. That thought alone causes my stomach to drop.
“I don’t need anyone coming with me,” I try to reason. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. You and all of my crazy uncles made sure of that.”
“It’s not happening, Bitsy,” he says, not even bothering to look up from his computer. “Not after what we’ve learned about that area. I need to finish this email. This conversation is over.”
Dismissed. I’ve been dismissed.
With a frustrated sigh, I toss my hands up and turn to leave the room. A glance at mom tells me that she doesn’t agree with my father but they have to have a united front and all that.
He doesn’t understand. How could he? I feel trapped behind the extremely fortified walls that are the Phantoms motorcycle club. Also known as Cap’s Security. My dad and his army buddies, my uncles, started this company years before I was born. I’ve spent my entire life surrounded by men whose main focus is the protection of those in need.
Well, the only thing I’m in need of is to break free. Even if only for a few days. I just need a little break to work things out in my head. I feel as if I’m going crazy and I just need the feel of the wind in my hair as I soar down the open road on my bike.
Unfortunately, my whole dang family is the giant roadblock blocking my way.
With nothing left to do, I leave and head to my home. Dad and my uncles built my house for me a few years back when I first expressed the need to be on my own. To try and figure out how to live life without having a big bad scary dude glaring at my every choice.
“You can’t go home.”
Using every bit of strength I possess I somehow manage not to turn around and punch my cousin in the face.
“And why is that?” I ask calmly.
“Because my dad is fixing your electricity,” Mikey says. “That last storm we had did some pretty severe damage to the property lines. That’s why you’ve been having issues. It won’t be ready until tomorrow.”
“Of course, it won’t,” I mutter.
Mikey is my Uncle Shadow and Aunt Grace’s son. He just turned thirty-six and is living a full and healthy life with his wife, Ester. When he was younger the doctors found a growth near his spine. He was told that if he had it removed then the likelihood of him being paralyzed from the neck down was extremely high.
Despite the recommendation, Mikey chose to forego the surgery for numerous years. Then his stepmom, Aunt Grace, entered the picture. With heartfelt determination, she begged Mikey to reconsider, stressing that the tumor had grown to a critical size, poised to result in complete paralysis. Furthermore, left unchecked, its progression could have led to his premature death.
I’m so glad he gave in. He was one of the lucky few who made it through the surgery without anything going wrong. He’s been up and out of his chair for ten years now.
“You know, with your brains, you could help me go to that convention without anyone knowing,” I tell him as I turn back to my parents’ house.
“I could,” he says, his voice light with humor. “But I won’t. Your safety is far more important than your freedom.”
“You sound just like them, Mikey,” I tell him.
“I am them,” he responds. “I understand your need for freedom more than most, Bitsy. I craved that same freedom for twenty years being stuck in that damn wheelchair. But, now that I’m older, I understand where our family was coming from. Safety is of the utmost importance.”
“You’re only saying that because you’re a new dad,” I remind him. “You used to be the fun cousin. Now, you’re just a Phantom. A protector.”
“I’m saying that because it’s the truth,” he says. “My job requires me to know the most intimate secrets a person has. I’ve gotten into the minds of sociopaths, Bitsy. I know the evil that lurks in this world. And beautiful women like yourself are prime meat for people like that. I’d much rather you be angry and safe than dead.”
“I get that,” I sigh. “I really do, Mikey. But it’s a biker’s convention. We go every year and you all know everyone who shows up. It’s not like I’m going to meet a bunch of strangers. I have friends there. You have friends there. Heck, even dad has friends who go. It’s not like it’s one of those wild ones that I always ask to go to. This one is familiar to everyone. Just in a new location.”
“I’m sorry, Bitsy, but I’m not going to help you sneak away. If the convention was someplace other than Harborbrook, Kentucky, I might have considered it. Now, get back in the house before the sun sets.”
With nothing left to say, he turns and heads towards my house where Uncle Shadow sits waiting.
“Mom, Mikey says my house isn’t livable until tomorrow.”
“You’re always welcome here, sweetheart,” she says, wrapping me in the warmest of hugs. “You remind me of Justin. You got a lot of your personality from him.”
I smile. Mom was my birth mom, but she and dad are not technically my biological parents. Mom agreed to be a surrogate for her brother, Justin, and his wife, Tiffany. Tiffany had developed lung cancer and had her eggs frozen before starting her treatments on the off chance that the chemo and radiation treatments would destroy her reproductive organs. Shortly before she passed away, she asked mom to be her surrogate so that my father would still have a piece of her once she was gone.
After mom became pregnant, my biological mother passed away and my father was killed shortly before I was born.
Mom and dad have never hidden that part of my past from me, and for that I’m grateful. I have the most amazing parents in the world and knowing that I’m their daughter because they chose me is a feeling of love unlike any other I have ever known.
But…
My dad is an overprotective pain in the butt.
“I think I’m going to go ahead and lie down,” I tell mom. “Maybe watch some tv before getting some sleep. You know, since I don’t have anywhere to go.”
“Your father loves you,” mom tells me, still holding me tightly. “He loves you so much that he’s in a constant state of fear that you’re going to go out into the big bad world and get hurt. He only wants what’s best for you.”
“Maybe what’s best for me is a few days outside of his walls of protection,” I tell her.
“Maybe,” she whispers. “But, when the time is right, your dad will let go just enough to let you live. Just give him time, sweetheart.”
I don’t need to remind mom that I’m twenty-six years old. My time has already been cut in half and if I wait any longer…well, life will pass me by.
“Love you, mom,” I say. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.”
I pull from her reluctant hug and head to my room. I understand Daddy’s fear. I truly do. But he doesn’t understand mine.
So, I’ll lie here and wait until everyone is asleep. Then I’m leaving for the convention. When I return, I will willingly walk back into the bars of protection that my family offers with a smile on my face.
But I just need these next few days to think. To remember. To let go of the fear that has been threatening to drown me for weeks now.
I need this one last hoorah before my life turns upside down.
Chapter One
Bitsy
Under the cover of darkness, I slip out of my room, careful not to wake my slumbering family. My heart races with a heady mix of anticipation and guilt as I pack my belongings and prepare my motorcycle for the journey ahead.
As the night swallows me, the engine’s growl har monizes with the exhilaration that courses through my veins. The wind whips against my face, carrying whispers of freedom and the thrill of the open road. I embrace the solitude of the ride, the black ribbon of asphalt unfurling beneath my wheels, leading me to a world beyond the familiar confines of our club.
The sun travels the sky as I ride with an unyielding determination, pushing through fatigue and uncertainty. Every mile traveled is a testament to my thirst for independence, a refusal to be confined by the chains of expectation.
I travel for hours, ignoring the constant vibration of the phone in my pocket. Ignoring my primal needs and just enjoying the freedom of fresh air through my wind-whipped hair. Having forgone my helmet, my hair flows freely with each passing mile.
My heart aches for my parents. I know that they’re worried about me, but if they only knew what I knew, they would understand my taste for freedom. Even if it’s just for these next few days.
The roads are shrouded in darkness as the initial droplets of rain make contact with my face. Yet, it hardly fazes me. In this instance, nothing else matters. A broad smile graces my lips as the heavens themselves seem to weep, concealing the quiet tears that escape my own eyes.
I lift my hands from the bike's handles, tossing them in the air, and I just yell. Is it a shout of happiness, the taste of freedom, or anger?
Maybe it’s all three.
Maybe it’s my declaration of the unfairness of the world.
Whatever the reason, it comes from deep within my soul. Never before has such an emotional sound escaped the body of a woman.
Which is probably the reason why I don’t feel my bike tilt until it’s too late. My tire must have hit a pot hole causing the wheel to jerk. I grab the handlebars and try to straighten my bike but it’s of no use. I’m going too fast.
Resigned to fate’s retribution, I shut my eyes, embracing the impending consequences. The bike’s rear lurches upward in an attempt to unseat me, yet I cling on tenaciously, defying gravity momentarily. Despite my resilience, the flip’s force prevails. Like a weightless feather, my body is launched into the air, my grip on the handlebars slipping away.
Agony courses through my body upon impact, the ground proving an unforgiving landing surface. Despite my efforts, I can’t seem to move—I’m trapped, unable to draw even a single breath.
Gradually, my ability to perceive sound slips away, leaving me in silence. However, on the horizon, a beacon of light emerges. Its brilliance, a radiant orb, appears to rush toward me, only to halt suddenly. Within moments, a pair of black boots, much like what my father wears, materializes before me, as if bidding a somber farewell.
Call it poetic justice if you will. But those boots send me right back to the safety of the Phantom’s fortress. To love and happiness. To safety. To my family.
With the last bit of strength I possess, I close my eyes and pray that the Lord gives my family strength to get through my death.
Chapter Two
Viper
“Blaze, call Ghost and tell him to clear out the clubhouse,” I order my Sargent at Arms. “I need Venom to be clear-headed when we get there. Tell him Doc needs to be in control.”
“On it,” Blaze says, pulling out his phone.
I look down at the sweet angel lying unconscious on the road. Blood pours from her head but I don’t panic. Head wounds always bleed more severely than other wounds.
I should know. I’ve made a few people bleed in my time.
“Venom would like for me to inform you that you know that’s not how it works but he will try his best.”
Strangely, it takes a lot of self-control not to lose my shit on my brother. I know he can’t tell Doc what to do. I know that it isn’t really up to him to decide if Doc is in control. But, for some strange reason, getting this angel to Doc as quickly as possible is the most important thing to me right now.
“Pull him down off his high horse, Venom,” I shout through the rain so that he can hear me through Blaze’s phone. “Tell him I need him and he needs to be ready in ten minutes.”
I reach down and gently pull this angel into my arms. She’s breathing, but it’s unsteady.
“Check her bike for any personal belongings,” I say. “Pull it to the side of the road. We’ll come back and deal with it later.”
Walking to my bike, I take a minute to try and figure out how to hold this unconscious female against my body while trying to drive through the storm.
“I’ll hold her until you get on,” Blaze says. “Then we can place her against your chest and tie her to you using this sweater I found in her bag. It’s not the best or safest plan, but it’ll have to do.”
I hesitate slightly before handing the stranger to Blaze and straddling my bike.
“Turn her to where she’s sitting backward,” I say. “I’ll be able to control the turns that way without fear of her falling.”
It takes a couple of minutes but we manage to get the angel secure enough for a quick trip back to the clubhouse.
The woman moans as I start the bike and I can do nothing else but grip the back of her head with one of my hands.
“Hang in there, little one,” I say. “Everything is going to be alright.”
As we journeyed back to the clubhouse, I found myself replaying her crash in my mind. She had been moving far too fast to be on a bike in the middle of a storm. In an instant, her headlight had been hurtling toward us at breakneck speed, only to start somersaulting before ultimately colliding with the ground.
Why wasn’t she wearing a damn helmet?
It takes longer than I would have liked to make it back to the clubhouse. The storm is in full force making it hard to see and I didn’t want my angel to slip from my grip.
“Doc, you better be ready,” I shout the second I turn my bike off.
I dismount before pulling the woman into my arms and rushing into the building.
“In here, Viper,” Doc says in his British accent. “What’s going on?”
“She flipped her bike,” Blaze says. “Crazy woman was out driving in this rain going way too fast.”
“With no damn helmet,” I add, placing my bundle onto the waiting bed. “What the hell was she thinking?”
“Probably the same thing you two were thinking, son,” Ma says, walking to the woman’s side and moving the hair from her face.
For the first time, I get a full view of her face.
“She’s fucking beautiful,” I say.
“So young,” Ma says. “Did she have any ID with her?”
“What do you mean the same thing we were thinking, Ma?” Blaze asks. “We weren’t just out for a joy ride.”
“She means how you boys never wear helmets, son,” Pops says. “What’s the situation, Doc?”
“She’ll be fine,” Doc grumbles. “Not some much as a scratch apart from her head. She just needs a couple of stitches and she’ll be perfectly fine.”
“She’s unconscious, Doc,” I remind him.
“Just a little nap,” he replies. “She’ll be waking up in a little while.”
“Got her ID,” Blaze says, tossing her bag on an empty chair. “Say’s her name is Tiffany Renee Williams. Lives at least eight hours away.”
“She looks familiar,” Pops says. “Can’t quite place her face but I know I’ve seen her before.”
I look at her beautiful face and know for a fact that I’ve never come face to face with this woman before. I wouldn’t have forgotten her if I had.
“Give me your cut son,” Ma says. “You’ve got blood all over it.”
“I can clean my own cut, Ma,” I smile, but remove the leather anyway.
“If there is nothing else, I’ll be moseying to the back,” Doc remarks. “Next time, a simple request will do to fetch me up front, Viper. There’s no call for barking orders. You are well aware that I have no taste for folks acting all high and mighty.”
“Thanks, Doc.”
“Don’t make a fuss about it. I’m off.”
“I don’t think he likes you much,” Blaze says.
“Doc has been around since we were kids,” I remind him. “He’s never liked me because I always won at chess and he’s a sore fucking loser.”
