by Piper Rayne
Today that’s gonna change. Today I’ll become a killer too. The sky is flame orange as we leave the Sanctuary grounds. My brothers’ bikes thrumming and rumbling all around me are the perfect soundtrack to this ride straight into hell.
The sky is a pale dusky purple as we reach the out-of-town compound and clubhouse of the Horned Riders MC. It’s made up of a series of rickety looking wooden and metal buildings enclosed by a wall of wooden slabs, pieces of metal, tarp and trash, as well as giant holes where the makeshift building materials either collapsed or were stolen. The place is in the middle of nowhere, on a slab of desert wasteland so far off the beaten track I’m surprised we even found it.
A group of brothers ride to surround the place, while I follow Cross and the larger group through the broken gate and into the lot.
We kick up so much dust I have trouble seeing Diesel, who’s only a foot or so away from me.
“What’s the meaning of this?!” an angry man shouts over the echoes of all our bikes coming to a stop at almost exactly the same time.
As the dust settles, I see a short, barrel chested man with white streaked dark hair approach from the direction of what must be the clubhouse. He’s flanked by twenty of his men.
I can smell the booze and smoke coming from the wooden warehouse looking building behind them from where I’m sitting on my bike between Cross and Tank.
Cross dismounts and pulls off his helmet. I follow suit, as do Tank and Ice.
“Cross,” the man says in a surprised tone of voice. “What brings you here?”
He’s trying to sound mocking and intimidating, but I hear the fear underneath it loud and clear.
“I’ve come to talk to you about a job you recently took on, Bear,” Cross says. “A job that was mine.”
Bear swallows hard, even from a good distance away I can see his Adam’s apple bob up and down.
“I would never do a thing like that,” he says. “I respect you. I have always respected you.”
His voice is filled with just fear now.
Cross laughs coldly. “Respect is not what I’d call it.”
Tank laughs too, as do several of our brothers.
“Fear more like,” Tank adds and laughs even harder.
“What job are you talking about?” Bear asks in a nearly squeaky voice.
“The red-headed lawyer,” Cross says. “We took on that job. You had no business under bidding us.”
“Under bid?” Bear asks, looking genuinely perplexed. “You turned that job down. You had to have. You don’t do jobs like that. Everyone knows—”
“What everyone knows is wrong in this case,” Cross cuts him off. “But I’m sure everyone knows what happens has to happen now. I will not allow disrespect go unpunished.”
Leather creaks and rustles as Bear’s men gasp and groan and whisper and fidget.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Bear says, nervously turning this way and that, looking for someone in particular in the group of his men. Beads of sweat are covering his forehead by the time he finally sees who he’s looking for. It’s a man about his age, only a little taller and skinnier, with the same white streaked dark hair. There’s something similar about their faces too. Brothers?
Bear gestures to him frantically, pointing at something in the far distance of the lot and the man nods and rushes off.
“What am I waiting for?” Cross asks.
“Wait, he’s bringing her,” Bear says, and my heart swells in my chest, thumping so hard I can hear it.
“You can claim the kill,” Bear adds. “I won’t say no different.”
His words feel like I’ve just stepped through a hole in an iced over lake, all the air gone from my lungs and the cold freezing my blood instantly. I’m seeing the quickly darkening world as though through a thick wall of dirty ice. And drowning. No air is reaching my lungs, no thought enters my mind, save one. I’m about to see Mia’s dead body. And I won’t live to tell about it.
28
Mia
I’m woken by a terrible rumbling, like a mountain collapsing, the walls of the shed creaking and rattling and the ground shaking. Somehow, I fell asleep again after the man locked me back in. Probably because of the drugs they injected me with. I see nothing but darkness as I open my eyes, but my heart is thrumming and skipping in excitement. An earthquake! The shed will collapse and I will escape!
I yank as hard as I can on the handcuffs, making the whole bed shake, but the damn metal rod I’m chained to won’t budge.
Then the rumbling stops and the walls no longer shake. The stinky shed is still standing, still as sound as ever. I’m still as chained up as ever.
“Fuck!” I scream and kick at the wall as hard as I can. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
All that my tantrum does is give me a wicked pain in my little toe as it twists against the corrugated surface of the metal wall.
I’m in the process of calming my mind and stilling my racing heart, since panicking and flying off the handle won’t serve me in any way and the calm, logical part of my mind knows this, when the door flies open again. The man who I belong to now, the one calling himself my savior or whatever, rushes in.
“Good you’re up,” he says. “We’re going.”
He grabs my arm and pulls me off the bed, taking it with us.
“God damn it,” he snaps, then starts huffing and puffing as he struggles to bend the metal railing of the bed enough to snap it.
Seeing my chance, what could be my only chance, I kick him as hard as I can in the shin and try to elbow him in the stomach but hit his hip bone.
He grunts, but doesn’t even stop his struggles with the railing. “Be still, bitch.”
He kicks me so hard in the stomach I very nearly vomit again.
I’m still catching my breath and willing the vicious pain to subside as he grabs a fistful of my hair and lifts me to my feet.
“Walk,” he orders, then marches me out of the shed.
It’s almost completely dark outside, and my bare feet hit every damn rock on the dry hard ground outside, making the stubbed toe seem like a kiss in comparison.
“Where are you taking me?” I ask.
He grunts and starts pulling me faster. We’re approaching a row of identical container like structures. Through the gaps between them I can see a pool of yellow light, along with the whispering, shuffling and coughing of many men.
I’ve heard of the auctions clubs like this hold. They’re nothing like the millionaire auctions where virgins, under age for the most part, are sold to the highest bidder. This will be more like a slave auction. And I don’t expect to fetch a good price. Or a kind owner.
“Here she is!” the man pulling me. “Take her!”
I start fighting him, screaming and shouting and kicking and biting. I’d rather die in the desert alone than face whatever horror these assholes have planned for me. I’d rather he kill me right here and now.
Suddenly I’m not being held anymore and the old man is lying on the ground, face down trying to crawl away. I keep on punching and scratching at the arms holding me now, kicking as hard as I could.
But these arm aren’t trying to hurt me. This man is trying to hold me.
“Calm down, Mia,” he says, but I knew him before he spoke. “It’s all right. You’re safe. I’m here.”
“Axle?” I say. “Is this a dream?”
He grins. “Could be. But at least we’re both dreaming the same thing.”
Then he scoops me up in his strong arms, and I wrap my arms around his neck and lean my head against his shoulder.
“Please take me away from here,” I say.
He starts walking, and I close my eyes. I feel like I’m floating, all the pain and fear I felt just a couple of moments ago wrapped tight and stored away where they can no longer reach me. Not now that he’s here. And if this is just a dream, I don’t want to wake up.
29
Axle
I tried not to think as we waited, two groups of bikers facing e
ach other across a dusty field, awash in the yellow, flickering generator powered lights, the smell of dust, petrol and sweat thick in the air.
I didn’t trust my ears when the slight breeze brought the hint of her voice with it. In fact, I was sure it was just the first herald of my break from reality. If they bring me her body to look at, I’m not leaving this field alive. And I’m taking as many of these fuckers with me as I can.
Huffing and puffing, the old man dragging her into the light from between two containers. Leather creaking and rustling accompanies the bikers all turning to the source of her voice.
But all I really see is Mia’s pale face, surrounded by a cloud of that thick, soft, dark red hair of hers that’s always been the color of my dreams. She’s always been both the color and texture of my dreams. Seeing her hurt has always been unbearable for me.
I don’t remember moving. I don’t remember running. I barely notice my fist colliding with the old man’s jaw. But I do know it when I’m finally holding her soft body, keeping her safe with mine.
She asks if this is all just a dream, and I’m not sure that it isn’t. But I am sure I never want to wake up.
She’s as light as a feather as I carry her back to my bike. Cross is speaking and the other MC president is saying something back. I hear none of it. All I know is that I have Mia back. Against all odds, she’s in my arms, alive. I will never let her go again.
30
Mia
I wake up cocooned in a soft, warm bed, the overhead fan whirring and stirring, accentuating the breeze coming in through the open window. The light is soft, diffuse, early morning or evening, I can’t tell. But it’s magical. Fantasy like.
Until the aches and pains in my body start waking too.
My feet are throbbing, not quite painfully, but not pleasant either, my scalp still stings and burns from that vicious hair pulling last night, and there are aches and pains all over my body.
But it all lessens as I open my eyes fully and see Axle standing over me, a pitcher filled with a light brown liquid that smells of peaches and summer in his hands.
“Good, you’re awake,” he says and grins. “How do you feel?”
My heart lurches in my chest, and I groan as I sit up too fast. But that pain is nothing to the one in my chest.
“How’s my mom?”
Axle sets the pitcher of ice tea down on the nightstand and sits on the edge of the bed. It takes just a few seconds, but they drag like decades for me.
“Just tell me, whatever it is,” I say. I don’t mean it. There’s things I don’t want to hear.
He takes my hand gently in his calloused palm. “She’s doing better,” he says. “She’s still in a coma, but the doctors are hopeful she’ll be just fine.”
I throw the covers off and find my feet are heavily bandaged in thick swathes of white gauze. There’s no way I can walk on these, so I reflexively start peeling them off.
He takes my hands to stop me. “Heart, I’ll take you wherever you want to go. But it’s six in the evening now. Visiting hours are over. We’ll go in the morning. Besides, our Doc says you could use a couple more days of rest.”
“Who?” I ask.
“The MC’s doctor,” he says. “He looked you over and bandaged your feet. And he’s been monitoring your mom at the hospital too. He says she’ll recover.”
“The MC’s doctor works at the hospital too?” I ask, thoroughly confused.
“Not officially, I don’t think,” he says. “But they know him and respect him there.”
“What happened to my mom? Was she shot?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “It looks like they hit her from behind and she slammed her head on the kitchen island as she went down. Luckily she was on the phone with her best friend who called the ambulance right away,” he says. “Apparently they were there within minutes of those fuckers taking you. If only they’d come a couple of minutes sooner.”
His eyes, his whole face, tell me just how much he wishes for that to be true. I squeeze his hand reassuringly and he winces.
It’s only then I notice his right hand is bandaged too.
“What happened to you?” I ask.
He looks at his hand wryly. “I didn’t hold anything back when I knocked out that guy holding you. It’s gonna be awhile before I can hold a wrench again comfortably.”
He looks at me and grins. “But it was worth it.”
“Thank you for finding me,” I say. “How did you?”
He looks sheepish all of a sudden. “You’re not gonna like it. I went to my MC president for help. He found you.”
“Then who abducted me?” I ask.
A bike rumbles up to the house downstairs, before he can answer and stops abruptly. My heart’s racing again, my eyes fixed on his, so wide it’s painful.
“It’s fine, you’re safe here,” he says, stroking my cheek. “I’ll see who it is.”
He walks over to the window and peels back the curtains to look out into the driveways.
“Can I come up?” a man asks.
Axle turns to me. “Can he? He can probably explain about what happened to you better than I can.”
I nod, my heart still thundering.
He leaves to let the guy in, and a couple of moments later they’re both standing in the room with me. I pull the covers back over myself reflexively.
“This is Hawk,” Axle introduces him.
“I won’t stay long,” Hawk says. He’s the blonde one who interrupted what would’ve been our first kiss after a long draught at Axle’s garage. “But I feel kinda responsible for what happened to you and figured you also had some questions.”
“Why would you feel responsible?” Axle asks. “I wouldn’t have found her without you.”
Hawk walks closer to the bed. “If I’d remembered sooner where I saw you before, it all could’ve been avoided.”
“Where had you seen me before?” I ask.
Axle brings him a chair then sits down next to me on the bed again.
“About four or five months ago, I was approached in a bar just outside of town about putting a hit on you,” Hawk says. “I refused, obviously, but not before getting some more information.”
I know there’s a lot more to this story, and the reasons why he was approached with this. But he’ll never tell me everything, so I won’t press.
“Please tell me who it was,” I say. “I swear it won’t leave this room. I just need to know to protect myself.”
“You don’t need to worry about that,” Axle says. “I’ll protect you.”
Hawk nods, looks at Axle then at me as he pulls an envelope from his breast pocket. “I can tell you who it was. And I have a pretty good idea why it happened, but that’s all I’m gonna say.”
He opens the envelope, pulls out a couple of photographs and hands them to me. “These are the men who approached me. One of them is a local developer hot-shot, Miles Lester, and the other—“
“Is the DA’s personal assistant,” I finish the sentence for him. I can still feel the breeze on my face, but absolutely no air is coming into my lungs. “My boss’s assistant.”
“But why would they want me dead?” I ask, looking at them both.
“I figure the developer was just the go between,” Hawk says and pulls a folded piece of paper from the envelope. “And I think it all has to do with this.”
He holds the paper out to me. It’s a printout of an article about the millionaire going on trial in a week or so. The one I’m prosecuting. The one who has such a wide net of friends in high places it took almost five years to bring him to trial. Just the jury selection took a year. It was only just completed five months ago.
“Damn, the DA is one of his friends too, isn’t he?” I say as it finally clicks. “No wonder it took so long to get to the trial.”
Hawk nods. “It looks that way. And if I had to guess, I’d say you’re the only member of the prosecution team that’s not bought or otherwise corrupted. You’ll have to watch
your back.”
So many little things that kept going wrong with the preparation for this trial suddenly make complete sense.
Hawk hands me the envelope. “There’s a lot more evidence and such in there. Do what you will with it. But I also have an offer to make you.”
I look up from the thick envelope he just handed me.
“We can hide you now,” Hawk says. “Make it as though the hit was successfully carried out and give you a new identity. That way you’ll never have to worry about these degenerates coming after you again.”
I look at Axle. His face is unreadable, but I bet he wishes I’ll say yes. “I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I can’t take that offer. I’m going to put this scumbag in prison for the rest of his life, and all his chums with him.”
Axle grins. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”
Hawk stands up and pats Axle on the back. “All right, I’m gonna take off now and leave you to it.”
“Thank you,” I say offering him my hand. “For saving my life and for bringing me all this information. I won’t ever reveal my source.”
“You’re welcome,” he says, shaking my hand. “I’d prefer it if those scumbags got their much deserved comeuppance too.”
As soon as he leaves and I look into Axle’s proud, happy eyes again, all that red hot, fighting purpose finding all this out woke in me, deflates like a popped balloon.
“I’ll have to go back to San Francisco soon,” I say. “But I’ll come see you as often as I can. And you can come visit me too.”
He just smiles wider and wider as I talk.
“What?” I ask.
He cups my cheek with his bandaged hand. “I’m going with you. If you think I’m not gonna be right beside you from now on, watching over you night and day, you have another thing coming. You can explain me away as your hired bodyguard or whatever you—“
I interrupt him with a soft kiss.
