by Vivian Gray
“Yes, of course. They got an image of him fleeing the building. Why would he run if he didn’t have anything to do with it?” My mother looks down at the old silver wristwatch she never leaves home without and then walks over to the bed and grabs the remote for the television from my side.
The flat screen hanging above my head flicks on to a news program. Within a few minutes, the morning news replays with the number one story being the police’s big effort to identify the man dressed in black. A man dressed completely in black darts across an alleyway, his jacket pulled up over his face as his dark eyes dart back and forth. He finally disappears into a clearing of trees where you can see the small headlights of a motorcycle flash on.
The reporter, dressed in a funeral black suit, lowers his voice as the screen pans to a picture of a man in a police photo. “Police believe the man featured in the surveillance tape is none other than 1% motorcycle club president Ash Cooper. Cooper was last arrested and jailed for a interstate drug ring that led police on a wild chase throughout the state and ended up in the death of two people.”
I sit up higher in my bed, my elbows forcing to hold my weight despite the pain of the burns still lingering. I have to get a better look at that man. Ash Cooper. Ash Cooper with the dark hair that falls in his face, the tattoos along his arms and neck, the black jacket and bandana, the eyes that spell out danger with every glance. That is him. That was my rescuer, my superhero, my personal firefighter.
The beeps on my heart rate monitor pick up speed as all of the blood rushes from my face to my feet. It feels as though the literal bottom of me has dropped out with the news. Am I wrong? Could the person so wonderful as to risk his life to save my neighbors and me actually be the person who started the fire -- or worse, was a convicted murderer?
“Danielle?” My mother is by my bedside as she reaches for my forehead as if I’m three years old with a fever. “Tell me what’s going on. Are you all right?”
I shake my head viciously, burying it deeper in the pillow as I reach across the covers for the red button the nurse pointed out last night. In seconds I feel a warm rush as all the pain in me disappears, and I float back to sleep. There, I can hold on to the image of the man, the good man, rushing into hell to save me.
Chapter 6
“I need to know what you got on her. Anything.” I sit down quickly next to our Treasurer, a smart guy named Duane. He used to be a private eye back before he joined up with the Devil’s Crucifix. He even worked with me and the Hells Rangers. But most importantly, he is the only guy in the club I can currently trust. He knows how to get information without raising eyebrows.
He hands me a small file as he apologetically says, “I didn’t have much time, but I managed to pull some records for her. Not terribly interesting. Danielle Stansville. Lived at the Queen Estates for the past few years. Lived in Sterling all her life. She’s ironically training to be a fireman. Or woman. Whatever you call them. If she makes the force, it looks like she’d be the first woman in history to do so. She’s got a mother and a dead dad -- car accident. But that’s about it. The only other person I see connected to her is a friend named Eva from high school and this guy Jamie who pops up a ton on her social media pages.”
“Like a boyfriend?”
“No. I don’t think so. She doesn’t post any pictures of him except for a few with her firemen training. Looks like he’s a coworker who either is up in her business a lot or is looking to nail her. Typical stalker delusions.”
“Heh,” I laugh to myself thinking about the term stalker. “Sounds like a creep.” It doesn’t feel right asking Duane to track down this info on the girl I saved. It’s not like I know her or have any connection to her life that justifies me doing this. But I can’t stop wondering if she suspects me, too.
Duane hands me a photo, black and white grainy shot of the exterior of a familiar hospital, the Oregon Rose. A red marker has circled a window on the second floor where you can faintly see a woman sitting up in bed. “She’s going home today, at least that’s what the word is. They said yesterday she would be but the nurse I’m getting my insider info is saying she’s in a lot of pain with the burns and is demanding more pain treatments.”
“A junkie?”
“Oh, no. I got nothing on that. She seems pretty clean outside a weekly drink with her friend and a few beers with coworkers. If she’s up on that stuff, she’s concealed it really well.”
I’m relieved. While most of our guys are users of some kind, I stay out of that shit. Every day I watch men come into work with the club looking more and more hollow. Their minds become mush and their appetites are only for one thing. They’re walking shells. It’s why I put a ban on using during club time or on club property. “Drink, smoke, fuck,” I say, “but keep the rest of your crap outside.”
“What time do you think she will be released? Is there a timetable for this?”
I look down at my phone’s clock. It’s only 9 AM. I should be out riding, but I put a peon to cover my shift and called it a personal day. Only Duane knows where I’m at, and I want to keep it that way. If the other club members get word that I’m tracking down this girl after the fiasco that was the meeting, I don’t want to know what kind of hell it would raise. It is my job to keep the club as peaceful as possible until we figure out how to get the cops off of our backs.
“Nurse said doctors come around every 8 hours or so. When I talked to her, it was just about 3 AM and the night intern had come by and pre-signed her discharge papers. I’d say she would probably be out the door at around, um, 11 or so?”
I grab the file stack and toss it into the inside pocket of my jacket before patting him on the back. “Thanks, man. I really appreciate your work. Pass yourself some of my take this month -- maybe $500?” His eyes light up brightly as I reach out my hand to him for the deal. “I think you know that price comes with your keeping this under wraps.”
“You know it does. I don’t snitch. Whatever your business is, it’s yours.” He pauses before grabbing my hand, “But boss, I have to ask…why this girl? Is she someone you pulled out of that fire?”
“Yeah,” I answer as I turn to leave. “She’s the girl I saved.”
I head directly out to the shed attached to the building where I park my bike. The lot surrounding it is empty, and the morning runners are all meandering inside waiting for their instructions. It’s the best time to make a quick exit before anyone can question what is going on. I pull my bike out and close the shed door behind me. Walking about a block with my bike in tow, I finally hop on and ride it out towards the highway, past the beachside restaurants and towards the outskirts of town where the tree line starts to come in.
Oregon Rose sits right on a hill overlooking the entire community. It’s one of those buildings you would swear is in a haunted house, but in truth, it’s one of the nicest hospitals in the city. Whoever this Dani is, she’s got money to be checked in here. The drop off section is full of BMWs and Lexus models. Even the sick look like they’re going in for a spa day.
I know I stick out in a place like this and with my mug all over television, going inside is not an option. I park my bike near the back fence line under the cover of a meal delivery van and slide the jacket and scarf into my carrier. With a quick glance into the mirror, I brush back my frizzed out mess of hair and rub my finger over a small white stain on my black t-shirt. It’s as normal as it’s going to get for a guy like me.
There’s a bench just outside of the admitting doors that I figure is the best way to wait. I grab a morning paper and sit idly by with the front page covering my face. Though, in my case, it’s not of much use. The whole front page is the story of the suspects in the arson case. Still, it’s my best cover as I try not to get spotted staring down each and every female that comes out of the doors of the hospital.
Patience isn’t my virtue and time ticks down more and more slowly as I am forced to wait here. As I keep glancing at the clock on my phone, my nerves tick up. My legs
bounce and bob and my hands can barely hold on to the paper without going into a fit. What about this woman is making me get up out of my seat just to shake out the pins and needles in me?
I’m just about to leave. I’ve talked myself out of seeing her, but something tells me to give it just five more minutes. That’s when I spot her through the sliding doors. I set down the paper and face her directly on. Through the tinted glass, I watch her stand from her wheelchair and shake the hand of an orderly. She’s much smaller than I remember her -- maybe just around 5’ 1” or 2”. She’s got that long blonde hair usually reserved for California girls, but her skin is as fair as a cartoon princess. Although she looks dainty, when I study her closely, I can see just how muscular she is. I suppose training to be a fireman bulks a girl up. She’s still got those banging curves, the hips that jut out right as they should and the breasts that spill slightly out of her unzipped hoodie.
As I stare at her, my mouth slightly open, she stares back at me. She’s not afraid. She doesn’t even really flinch from the conversation she’s having. She just keeps my eyes in her line until she begins to move again, walking confidently down through the doors and out the steps to where my bench is. Behind her is a woman who looks like an older, more tired version of her and man trailing behind as if he is struggling to keep up. She doesn’t pay either of them attention.
I need to say something, anything, to get her to stay. Her feet slow as they approach me, which gives me just enough time to push out the first question that comes to my mind, “Are you okay?”
“That depends. Are you Ash Cooper?” The girl’s voice is gritty and horse, but nothing like it was when she was begging me to save her. There is no weakness in it, no hesitation either. It’s almost like she practiced what to say when she would meet me again.
“And that depends on who’s doing the asking.” I reach out my hand to her, offering a little bit of normalcy in this meeting.
She takes it quickly, her fingers wrapping around mine. She’s got a strong grip, nothing like shaking hands with a regular girl. “Dani. Dani Stansville.”
“Ash Cooper.”
“What are you doing here? Should you be here?” She places a hand that’s partially bandaged on my arm and directs me to face back towards the parking lot away from the woman and the man she is with. The two barely even register me as they chat about plans and drop offs for Dani’s car.
“I probably shouldn’t be. But I wanted to make sure that you were all right. I didn’t want to leave you like that, but--”
She cuts me off before I can explain, “But you started the fire that killed my next door neighbor and you wanted out of there before the police got you? Or is it because you’ve killed before and you’re not terribly excited to get back to jail.”
Woah there. This girl has some bite to her. I stop mid-walk to study her poker face. Her green eyes reflect off of the midday sun as she licks her top lip slightly. They’re back to a plump pink, far different from when I saw them last. They give nothing away to me, though. If she’s afraid of me, she has every right to be. But she doesn’t seem off-put at all. In fact, she seems energized by me being here.
I lower my voice as I use my hands to position her so she can see my eyes. My hand reaches out to lift her chin to face me as I say steadily, “I didn’t have anything to do with those fires and those deaths the papers are talking about…it’s not the whole story. You can’t believe everything you hear.”
“So why should I believe you?”
“Because I’m standing here giving you my word. Motorcycle men like me, we don’t bullshit about this stuff. If we do something sick like burn a house down with a whole bunch of civilians in it, we fess up to it. That’s our ways.”
“Then I’ll just have to trust you.”
“You should.” There’s a long silence as the conversation breaks but our poses don’t. She’s staring up at me, her face covered in sunlight while I continue to touch the small curve of her chin. I don’t want to move, but we both can feel the two pairs of eyes staring at us from our sides.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The man finally cuts through. I watch as Dani rolls her eyes slightly before turning to face him. “Dani, you shouldn’t be around this guy. He’s wanted.”
“He isn’t ‘wanted,’ Jamie. He’s a person of interest. And I know he didn’t do it.”
“Danielle…” The older woman speaks to her as if she’s about to put a child in its place, “Listen to Jamie. You don’t want anything to do with this.”
“‘This’ saved my life, Mom. He’s not going to hurt me now. That would be a colossal waste of all of our time.”
I spurt out a laugh from her side as she turns back to face me. There’s a small hint of a smile that she can’t conceal behind the know-it-all, sassy front she’s putting on.
“That fire wasn’t me.” I finally say. I can’t really give a better explanation than that.
“Really, then…the boys over in the department are looking into you. They say you’ve got the rap sheet like a burner. And by the looks of it, you certainly seem like the type.” The man I’m now sure is Jamie, the stalker coworker, pretends to size me up, but I’ve got at least five inches on him and another fifty pounds of muscle. He isn’t an unimpressive guy, but he wouldn’t stand a chance against me or one of my top enforcers.
“Let them study me all they want. Until they bring me in, I’m a free man, and I do what I want. And what I want is to check in on Dani.” Her cheeks almost instantly blush as I say her name. It’s one of the most innocent, spontaneous things a woman has done around me since I’ve been president of the Devil’s Crucifix. I look down at her, my brow furrowing as I earnestly ask her again, “Are you all right?”
She breathlessly answers me, “I’m okay. Just some smoke and a few burns.” She holds up her arms covered in the sweatshirt and pulls up the sleeves to show me a few of the bandages. I don’t dare touch her. She’s damaged enough.
“As you can see, Mr. Cooper, Danielle needs to get home and get some rest. All this is just riling her up.” Her mother reaches around Dani’s shoulder and begins to march her towards the lot of cars. “I’d expect this is your goodbye, then.”
I take my long steps to join them, Jamie following at our heels. “I’m going to follow you back and make sure you get to your place okay.”
“Her place is burnt to a crisp, you jackass.” Jamie mutters as the group turns to him. “You’d know that, though, wouldn’t you? And even if I let you get within a hundred yards of her, the cops would beat you to it.”
It takes everything in me not to sock this guy in the smug face. He reaches out to Dani and takes over where her mother had left off, his arms around her shoulder, practically pushing her to the car. I pull him off of her before he can take another step. He spins and lifts out his arm, inches from my face. I duck and spin, still holding on to his forearm till he falls to the ground with a huge thud. Dani lets out a yelp as she places her hands on my arm to pull me away.
In the chaos, I get one last look at her coworker, Jamie. I see the scar on his face above his eye, the little hint of a mustache that just won’t come in, and the ring on his finger that looks awfully familiar. Something begins to tell me that I have met this kid before. My stomach turns as I put the pieces together.
Dani breaks my thoughts into two as she says lowly, “Thanks for checking on me, Ash. But you better get the hell out of here.”
I reach up towards her hands and squeeze them gently before walking away past her mother who is on the phone with a police dispatcher and through a crowd that has gather to watch from a safe distance. Jamie calls something back out to me. But I’m already gone, my motorcycle revved up and launched out. I have a whole other person to find.
Chapter 7
I don’t think I’ve ever been this stunned in my entire life. Did that just happen? Did Ash Cooper just appear out of nowhere, tackle Jamie to the ground, have a verbal flirt-off with me, and then spe
ed off on the shiniest motorcycle I’ve ever seen in my entire life? By the utterly shocked look on my mother’s face, the crowd gathering, and the little drop of blood on Jamie’s cheek -- I didn’t just imagine this.
No one moves. No one even breathes. We all just stand there with our arms out as if we are preparing for the next surprise. A ninja dressed in a polka-dotted suit could pop out from one of these cars and I don’t think anyone would care. All eyes were squared up on me.
“Come on…come on, Danielle. Let’s go home.” My mom pulls on my arm as Jamie finally stammers up to his feet.
He rocks and waves as if that hit push to the ground was something way more than it was. Ash barely touched him. He can’t be that strong.
“Danielle…” She is growing impatient with me. I can tell. She always does this thing with her hands on her hip and her pointed toe tapping when she gets exacerbated. I know I’m not exactly easy to handle, but when your own mother has a nervous tick about it, you know it’s bad.
Still, I stand my ground. Ash being here somehow has changed me. I’m not going back with my mother. I never wanted to go in the first place. It was her and Jamie’s idea that I be watched over like a little wounded bird in an incubator. But I’m fine. I stood up to Ash Cooper without any fear, and I can clearly operate without too much pain. Why do I need to be treated like a child?
