See You in Valhalla

by MariaLisa deMora

  They’d taken off right after that, without her having a chance to adjust, which she suspected was his intent.

  The farther they got into the ride, the easier it became, until she wasn’t thinking about how awkward it should have been and was just appreciating the beauty of the scenery flashing past. They rode through woods thick enough that the temperature dropped several degrees in the shade of the overhanging trees, bursting back out into dazzling sunlight and a heat more than enough to shake the chill off her skin. A pair of horses must’ve heard the bikes coming, running up to the fence that separated their field and the bordering road before turning and racing along, kicking up their heels as the bikes outstripped the horses’ eager strides.

  Minutes passed and she slowly relaxed, leaning against Neptune, swaying with him as he maneuvered the bike around curve after curve. They slowed and she sat up, looking over his shoulder to see an intersection coming up. Two motorcycles blasted past them in the other lane, swooping to either side of the crossing, effectively blocking traffic from interfering with the double columns of bikes. It had been the same at the other intersections, three teams of riders she’d come to recognize. She twisted and looked behind them, seeing Monk and Amanda riding just to the right of Neptune’s bike, with Wolf and Rose and Blade and Jenn making up the couples on the next set of bikes.

  Craning her neck, she caught a glimpse of Ryman several rows back. It seemed like he was laughing as he shouted something to the rider next to him, but when he saw her looking, his expression sobered and he lifted a hand in a brief wave she returned.

  Neptune’s hand on her lower leg made her turn around again and lean closer. He’d done that several times today, each when he’d wanted to tell her something. This was no different.

  Over the buffeting wind, she heard him demand, “Get my phone out. It’s in my vest pocket.”

  Hands on his waist, she considered the request. Trust was involved. She’d have to let go of him with her hands, leaving her more vulnerable to the bike’s movement. She pulled herself tight against his back, then clamped her thighs around his hips, holding firmly. Her hands snaked around his chest on either side, and she worked by feel to find the rectangle that would identify the phone’s position. It was in an inside pocket, and she carefully unsnapped one set of closures before reaching inside. Her palm spread across his chest, and the hardness under her fingertips reminded her of those moments when she’d given way to her grief, cradled against him. Carly shook it off and retrieved the phone, fumbling to close the snap until she felt it pop into place.

  “Okay,” she yelled over his shoulder. “Got it.”

  “Get a video of the column. I wanna have something of today to keep.”

  Her stomach pitched and sank, and her fingers shook until she was afraid she’d drop the phone. He wanted something to remember her father’s memorial ride. Like the home movies and videos he’d shared with her the other evening, it would be something more than a fading memory of the wind and trusted men at his back, the honor of the many guests who’d showed for the ride. He wanted tangible proof of the overwhelming support and love the biker community had for Gibby, and by extension, the Borderline Freaks MC as a whole.

  She fought the emotions for a moment, resting her helmet against his back, then took a deep breath and opened her eyes. Familiarizing herself with the controls, she clamped her thighs around his hips again and leaned backwards slightly; then, with her arms over Neptune’s shoulders, she held the camera in front, aimed it at him in selfie mode and hit the red button. After capturing several seconds of that closeup, the image including her face framed by the helmet hovering over his shoulder, she lifted her arms and tipped her head to watch the screen as riders behind them came into view. Several of the men lifted a hand in solemn acknowledgment, and many of the women riding with them waved. Carly angled the phone to see farther back up the column, and farther still, realizing it extended well beyond what she could see.

  He touched her leg and she jerked, fitting herself against his back, camera out in front again. “Gonna pull off, want you to keep filming. Get the whole ride as it passes, okay?” She nodded and knew he’d seen it on the screen when he grinned at her. Lifting a hand, he touched the earpiece he wore and told the other leaders what he was planning to do. At the next intersection, they became the bike swooping off on the right-hand side to block traffic, and she quickly flipped the camera to forward mode, scanning the riders as they swept past in a roar of exhaust and excited shouts.

  Minutes ticked by, and they continued to sit in the road as hundreds of motorcycles made their way through. Carly glanced across the intersection and somehow wasn’t surprised to see Ryman was the one blocking traffic on the other side. When the final bike rolled past, she draped her arms across Neptune’s shoulders, framed the two of them on the screen, and angled the camera so it captured Ryman in the background. “Thank you,” she mouthed, then turned her head and impulsively brushed her lips across Neptune’s cheek.

  She ended the recording and tucked the phone deep into the pocket of her jeans. When she wrapped her arms around his waist, he draped his left elbow over her knee and cupped his hand around her calf possessively. This wasn’t a move to get her attention as it had been earlier in the day. This was a comfortable connection between two people.

  Carly wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

  Seven

  Neptune

  He swept his gaze across the faces gathered in the field behind the clubhouse, marking the members who remained. It was most of them, which was surprising since it had been a long, full day. The clock crept up on midnight, and the fire was finally beginning to burn down, Monk having put a moratorium on adding to the blaze about an hour ago. He’d stayed but had sent Amanda home earlier, shaking his head when Neptune had asked after her.

  At the picnic table nearest the clubhouse, Neptune spied Carly. She was seated facing his direction, and this time, as he’d found every time he looked at her over the past hour, the woman’s gaze had been parked directly on where he stood. Ryman was next to her, a buffer against the off-side approach by anyone. That was a considerate move, given how stressed out Carly seemed.

  He would have expected the honor paid to her father today to have eased her somewhat. It was hard to lose anyone, much less a parent, but knowing how revered and well-liked Gibby had been should have lightened her load. Instead, it had seemed to double, maybe triple, the weight of her grief.

  When they’d pulled back into the clubhouse parking lot, she’d remained in place at his back for a moment, her arms tight around his waist. As he’d parked and killed the bike’s engine, she’d stripped off the helmet and run her fingers through her hair. Then she’d placed her hands on his shoulders and pulled, drawing him back against her. A gust of heated air across his ear told him how close her mouth was when she thanked him; then those supple lips eased forwards, and she pressed another kiss to his cheek. The second such offering from her today.

  He hadn’t been prepared for her exit off the bike, having been frozen in place enjoying the heat of her body against his. But Ryman had been right there, hand out, supporting her as she stepped down off the passenger pegs. Neptune had watched the big man tuck her hand into the bend of his elbow, then escort her between the clusters of men and women stretching after a long ride. They’d rounded the end of the clubhouse and disappeared from view.

  It had taken time for Neptune to work his way around to the back, as protocol demanded he personally regreet and thank every club that had members present. Sorting out the ranking officers, determining the level of gratitude to express, extending an offer to remain for the back-lot party, and then closing out with handshakes all around—doing that times nearly three dozen clubs, he hadn’t been surprised when the food was already being consumed by the time he made it out back of the clubhouse.

  Prospects and members had already been sternly warned about behavior and expectations, and he was glad to see that even now, at this late
hour, they’d held their shit. Not a one of his men was drunk to the point they’d be a weakness. There were a few tents pitched along one edge of the field, which told him not every attendee had held the same level of control. Still, that too was what he’d primed the prospects to do, helping ensure there’d be no issues with drunk driving traffic stops. The last thing the club needed right now was some kind of a bullshit charge about the clubhouse serving as an unlicensed bar.

  “Officer church tomorrow, right?” Monk’s question came from left field, and Neptune squinted at him for a moment before nodding slowly. “Afternoon or evening?”

  “Tempted to put an 18:00 time on it. What do you think?” Neptune watched Wolf walk up behind Monk, saw them share a glance. “What the fuck’s going on?”

  “Told you he’d catch wind.” Wolf shook his head. “Might as well just spill it, man.”

  Monk’s head turned back and forth, his gaze scanning the crowd much as Neptune’s had. “Nothing’s even for sure yet.”

  “What’s not for sure?” Blade stepped around Neptune, planting himself in the only empty part of their circle. “It’s for sure late, and my woman’s already fussin’ about goin’ home.”

  “I sent Amanda home already.” Monk’s shoulders shifted, and he swayed in place. “Makes me nervous having her there alone, though.”

  “Same.” Wolf lifted his chin, pointing to the table where Carly sat with the other women. “I’m of a mind I want to keep my eyes on her. We just don’t know what they’d be willing to do.”

  “They’ve come after the women before.” Blade shrugged. “I told Jenn she had to suck it up and deal with it, because her moving back and forth alone ain’t happening.”

  “Only reason I felt okay with Amanda heading out was because a couple of ladies from her grief support group are staying over.” Monk shifted again, unease clear on his face. “She’s…” His voice trailed off for a moment before coming back, stronger. “She’s pregnant. I didn’t want her alone.”

  Neptune’s shoulders went back, and he stared at Monk. His brother and Amanda hadn’t followed the smoothest trail to where they were. It had taken the two wounded souls a long time to decide they were worth love again. Neptune had stood at their side when they’d gotten married, the civil service at the courthouse taking forever as the fussy little official had tacked on several paragraphs of narration to the usual service. As far as he knew, neither Monk nor Amanda had talked about kids, so this was a shock. “Congratulations, brother. Precious addition to your family. That’s good news, man. Really good news.” He reached out and clapped a hand on Monk’s shoulder, gripping tightly. “Y’all excited about this?”

  Monk nodded, lips curving as he grinned through his beard. “Yeah, it’s a good thing. We hadn’t been trying for long. The good stuff just happened nice and fast.” He reached up and clasped Neptune’s arm. “She told Gibby her suspicion the weekend before…before everything went sideways. He was really pleased.”

  “I bet he was, Monk. Awesome news. Congrats, brother.” Wolf stepped close and pulled Monk into a clinch. “Me and Rose better get a move on it, so mine and your kids can grow up together. I told her last night we’ve waited long enough. First it was her training, then her probationary period, then her first year. It’s time.”

  “It is time,” Monk agreed. He cut a glance at Blade. “How about you and Jenn?”

  “If Jenn wants kids, I’ll make it happen. Not a serious topic at our house yet.” Blade slugged Monk’s arm, hitting him hard enough to pull a wince from the bigger man. “Figures you’d be the one to blaze ahead.”

  “Yeah.” Monk’s smile was edged with a darker emotion. “But after what happened to Gibby, we’ve got to get our asses in gear and sort a terminal solution. I’m ready to do whatever the club needs. I’m a Freak through and through, and I’ll stand by my brothers without question.”

  “Well said, but let’s keep this for tomorrow’s church.” Neptune glanced at the picnic table, surprised to see Ryman seated there alone. He looked around the yard, not seeing Carly. “You guys see where Carly went?”

  “She was just right there with Rose.” Blade turned and cursed. “Where the hell’d my woman go? Where’s Jenn?”

  Ryman saw them staring and glanced around. Neptune noted the moment when he realized the women were all gone. He was up from the table in a flash, head on a swivel as he glared into the corners of the yard. Neptune was on him in seconds, hand plastered against Ryman’s chest as he let his momentum carry them backwards until Ryman’s back crashed against the clubhouse wall. Fist in the man’s shirt, he asked, “What’d she say? Just before you let her walk away, what’d she say?”

  “She got a text. All of them did. Nothing pinged wrong, man. She got a text and looked up laughing, and asked if Jenn and Rose were walking inside, too.” Ryman shook his head, and Neptune saw his pupils dilate, covering his eyes in darkness. “I figured it was some of that shit where women hit the head in herds.” He fumbled at his pocket, and Neptune released him, taking a long step back to put distance between them. Not that he expected Ryman to retaliate, but he’d make it harder for him to do so at least. “Seven minutes. Seven and a half.”

  Neptune sent Monk into the clubhouse with a tip of his head, and Blade to the front parking lot and the mechanic shed with a pair of members at his back. Ryman had pulled out his phone and was tapping furiously at it, navigating from screen to screen as if looking for something. Neptune got the attention of a few other members and had them combing through the crowd and tents, quietly but thoroughly. He did all this with a sinking feeling in his gut that every search would turn up empty. Fruitless, he thought. Whatever coordinated effort had swept the women away wouldn’t be recovered by the same tactics used to locate a lost toddler’s shoe.

  “Goddammit.” Ryman’s low muttering peaked, his frustration coming through. “I got nothing. Literally nothing. There are only like three fucking CCTV feeds in the whole town, and they’ve all been smeared with petroleum jelly.” He stared at Neptune. “Do you have anything?”

  “Yeah.” Wolf was intent on his phone. “I got something.”

  Neptune opened his mouth to respond when something in the pocket of his vest buzzed. He dug out the earpiece and held it between his fingers and thumb. It vibrated again, sounds coming from it, and Neptune shoved it into his ear. He wasn’t prepared for what he heard.

  Eight

  Carly

  Carly’d known what she’d be walking into when she had chosen to accept the instructions at face value. The initial text she’d received said to make sure her companions accompanied her, and after having learned about Rose’s military background and current posting during their earlier conversation, it hadn’t been a hard decision. The second text had come in at the same time the other women looked at their phones, and Carly had put a stamp on how things would go when she’d drawn the women’s attention to her with an over-the-top response that wouldn’t give Ryman anything to worry about.

  Now, however, she was rethinking the instinct that always drove her to manage her own cases.

  The inside of the cargo van was not completely dark, fortunately. There was a solid panel between where they sat on the floor and the driver’s cabin, and the single window in the back door was covered by a grate. The glass in the window was painted a dark gray, scrapes through the covering only allowing the tiniest bit of illumination around the edges of the seal. Tiny, but enough.

  “Where do you think they’re taking us?” Jenn sounded angry, the tone in her voice hard-edged and clipped.

  Good, Carly thought. Hold on to that little bit of pissed off. She answered the question though, because the three of them needed to be in sync while keeping their captors in the dark as much as possible. “Probably to my dad’s house.” She shook her head in wide sweeps, making sure both Jenn and Rose saw her. “Woods,” she mouthed, hoping they’d understand.

  That initial text had held more information than her captors probably knew.
>
  They got off too easy. That had meant Neptune, Wolf, Blade, and Monk, she was certain. She knew the tipoff about her father’s death had only been sent to them, but they’d wisely involved the entire club. The men descending upon the woods in a huge group had probably derailed the killers’ plans.

  You’re going to fix this for us or go like your old man. The killers thought she had some sway over the club’s leadership, probably because of who her father had been. They hadn’t been watching closely, or they’d have made it a more personal threat about Neptune. She’d not been able to keep her eyes off him after the ride, watching him easily accept the grief the men handed him, giving them back comfort and ease even while seeking her out with his gaze again and again. It hadn’t just been her impacted by their time on the motorcycle today—or by the sense of rightness with every moment spent in his presence.

  Bring their women or it’ll be worse for you. That sentence was the most damning one, because it meant the abductors had been fed information from someone at the party. How else would they have known she’d even met Jenn and Rose, much less been seated with them at the exact moment the text came in? Scanning the groups of men and women standing around the clubhouse’s backyard, her gaze had landed on a man. One amongst dozens, he’d held a beer bottle just like so many others, but he’d also had a phone in his hand—and his eyes on the table where she sat. Carly took a discreet picture of him with her phone as she’d laughed and urged Jenn and Rose to their feet, only then noticing Ryman’s attention was on the same man.

  Don’t fuck up or it’ll go bad for her. That had been the final sentence of that first text, and it had confused her for a moment. That confusion was cleared up with the second text. A picture of a woman, bruises not hidden by her tear-smeared makeup, with a man’s hand cruelly gripping her jaw to angle her face to the camera. It had been accompanied by a single sentence. Van’s out front.