True North: A Wordsmith Chronicles MC Standalone

by Harlan, Christopher

  I miss the brotherhood, and I miss the adventure of it all.

  But I’m proud of what I did. I’m sorry that I didn’t hurt that son of a bitch worse than I did. And I’d fuck him up again in a heartbeat.

  When I stop reading I realize that I haven’t been breathing. I take a deep breath, the tears in my eyes welling up as I do. I feel like I just met the real North, and I understand why he went off to do what he did. North is a hero, even if he would never call himself that. He’s a man who fights for what’s right. A man who won’t be confined by the rules of society.

  He’s my man, and I need him now more than ever.

  Wait. What the hell was that noise?

  Forty—North—Way Back When

  I gather up the guys, or rather what’s left of them.

  My farewell party crew just became my army. There aren’t many of us, I know. There’s me, the Beatle Brothers, Jon Boy, and a few others who still remain. I texted them all and told them to meet me at a local bar, where I gave them the whole story.

  “They did what?”

  “Those motherfuckers!”

  “I know, boys, I know,” I agree. “It’s time to take our revenge on the pieces of shit who did this. We’re not the Leviathans—I can’t command people to go to battle with me. This is a volunteer army we’ve got, and if any of you are with me then you’re with me of your own accord. I can’t tell anyone here to risk their lives.”

  “Would you stop fucking talking now so we can go get these pricks?”

  It’s Jon Boy talking. The man pulls no punches, and he’s always down for a scrap. He would have made a good criminal except for his strong moral code. Nonetheless, he’s never met a form of violence that he didn’t like, even if he saves it for the most noble of purposes. And avenging Joaquin is a noble purpose.

  “Yeah. You’re right. Enough talk. Time for action.” My phone rings. I left the ringer on in case Ana needed anything from me or, God forbid, my friend took a turn for the worse. I grab it immediately as the guys get into battle mode. Only it’s not Ana, it’s Delilah. “Hello?”

  “North, come here right now.”

  “What’s the matter? What is it?”

  “Right now. Come. Right. Now.”

  Forty One—Delilah—Now

  “You’re all set up, miss. Enjoy.”

  “So, it’s fully activated?” I ask.

  “Yup. All good to go.”

  I finally have my phone back. After my little breakdown at the doctor, Emily calmed me down like only a sister can, and then took me for a really nice lunch. After we eat and talk I finally start feeling a little better, and now I’m getting after my last chore of this never-ending day.

  “Thank you.”

  We walk out of the Verizon store and I feel better that I have a working phone. The second I know it’s activated, I get anxiety that I’m going to get a call from law enforcement telling me that North—that the father of my unborn child—is dead. Then I tell myself to shut the fuck up and stop being weak. I’m stronger than this. Stronger than just being the sad wife, waiting around to hear the bad news. North isn’t dead. I’d know if he was dead. I can’t tell you why I know that, but it’s true. We have a connection that goes past wedding vows or writing careers. We’re soulmates, and I’d know if my soulmate wasn’t with me anymore.

  When we get back to my place Emily gives me one last sister hug—the good kind—the one that goes on forever and squeezes really hard. “I want you to go inside and get some rest. Stress isn’t good for the baby.”

  “I’ll try,” I tell her. I’m not sure I’m being completely honest right now, but I’ll do my best to relax, given the circumstances. She’s right. The last thing I need on top of everything else is risking the pregnancy because I can’t stop worrying.

  “I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Em. Thanks, for everything.”

  “Don’t ever thank me for being your sister. It’s kind of what we do for each other.”

  “Yeah, but still.”

  “But still.”

  I get out and head inside. When the door closes I take a deep breath. In front of me is our wedding picture, framed and hung on our wall. I look at the North in that picture—the North I promised to give my heart to on that special day. I reach out and touch his picture as a tear runs down my face.

  “Come back to me, baby,” I cry. “You come back to me.”

  Forty Two—Delilah—Way Back When

  Maybe I’m being paranoid, but I just heard a noise on the porch. I called North even though we haven’t spoken since the hospital, but for some reason that noise really startled me, and he was the first person I thought to call. When I heard his voice, even for that brief few seconds, I felt better. There’s something in his tone that chases the demons away.

  But I still hear that noise.

  It sounds like hushed voices on my porch, just outside the front door.

  Did I lock the door when I came in? Shit.

  My heart starts racing, and once I know that I’m not being paranoid I drop to the ground and crawl over to my front door. As I get closer I hear the voices. It’s definitely more than one man, and the sound of their boots on my wooden porch is audible now.

  I start to panic. What if it’s them—what if it’s the Leviathans? I didn’t like the way that Travis looked at me at the bar. I know what it means when a man looks at me that way. It wasn’t just a I think you’re hot look—it was menacing, and it made me feel like if North and Joaquin weren’t around, he wouldn’t have taken no for an answer.

  On my belly, I make it to the front door and turn the lock as quietly as I can, hoping that whoever is out there doesn’t hear me, because I know they’re not here for anything good.

  Where the hell is North?

  Forty Three—North—Now

  I drop the kid off at the hospital.

  He’s not in great shape, but he’ll live. I can’t say the same for most people who encounter enforcers from the Leviathans. I know he doesn’t feel it right now, but the kid has no idea how lucky he is.

  He won’t tell anyone what really happened, other than he was shot by some outlaw biker criminals. I think about taking his car and phone, but then I remember that any gun shot wound injury that comes through the door of a hospital requires the calling of local police to investigate after the fact. When that happens, if I have his belongings, their investigation could lead back to me, and I can’t have that.

  “I have to drop you off, kid. I apologize. For all of this, I owe you a debt.”

  “You don’t owe me anything,” he says.

  “Do you mind if I ask one more thing of you?”

  “Name it.”

  “I need to leave this with you,” I tell him, holding his cell in my hand. “But can I make one last call to my wife?”

  “Of course. Go for it.”

  “Thanks.”

  I dial Delilah’s number. . .

  Forty Four—Delilah—Now

  I step out of the shower, refreshed. There’s just something about hot water and steam that relaxes me when I’m feeling tense. I took a long one. I’m not one of those women who takes hours to get ready, but this afternoon I’m treating myself to some relaxing time, even if it is just a shower.

  Out of instinct, the first thing I do is check my new phone, just in case. . . what’s this? I see a missed call from a strange number, and whoever it was left a voice mail. I hit the little button on the bottom right and put it on speaker. Oh my god, it’s North’s voice!

  “Baby, it’s me. It’s North. I have no time to explain before I get cut off, but you need to listen to me and do exactly as I say. I need you to get out of the house right now and go to your sister’s place, or a motel. Anywhere. Just don’t stay there. He’s coming. Travis is coming and you need to get out of there! I’m on my way.”

  I play it one more time as my heart starts to race. It’s panic. It’s de ja vu. It’s the combination of words that I hoped I’d never hea
r. But the one thing that cuts through my own panic is the fact that North is alive.

  But then my thoughts don’t go to me, they go to our unborn child, and I don’t hesitate, I just jump up and grab a few things before heading to the front door.

  Forty Five—North—Way Back When

  “. . .the sounds of her sorrow.”

  I’ve never ridden so fast.

  I don’t feel the speed of the wind hitting my face. I don’t hear the roar of my engine. I just ride as fast as anyone who’s ever ridden. If anything happens to Delilah I don’t know what I’ll do. My wheels take me there, one second at a time, until I see her neighborhood. I stop a block before her block and park my ride. I run the rest of the way. If it is something, I don’t want anyone to hear me approaching.

  It’s not an emotion that I’m used to, but I’m nervous. As I approach Delilah’s place my mind is filled with all sorts of imagery that I’d rather not be picturing. I tell those demons to shut the fuck up as I approach. When I get close, I see them—three bikes parked outside of Delilah’s place. Her front door is ajar, and I can hear commotion from inside.

  Fuck. Please, God, don’t let this be happening!

  I run as fast as my legs will carry me—faster than I’ve ever run before, and when I burst through the front door I see the beginnings of my worst nightmare. Nothing’s happened yet, but Travis is there, with his goons, and they all turn to look at me.

  “Well, look who’s here, boys. Wasn’t expecting company. Just wanted some time with this fine young thing in the corner.”

  “Travis, listen to me carefully. More carefully than you’ve listened to anyone in your entire life. I’m going to give you one chance to stop before things go too far. One chance, and no more.”

  His boys start laughing, and the sound of their mockery fills me with even more rage than I had before. “Isn’t that kind of you North,” he jokes. “So nice to give me the option of leaving.”

  “That’s not what I said. You’re not leaving here.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me, you piece of shit. You’re not going anywhere. I didn’t offer you a chance to leave, I offered you a chance to stop doing what you’re doing. You have to answer for Joaquin. That reckoning is coming one way or the other between you and I. For that, I’m going to hurt you like you hurt him. But if you keep going down this road we’re on, then I’m going to leave your body here. Which is it gonna be?”

  I know my words won’t make one bit of difference as to what happens next. Travis is too crazy and too set in his ways to be intimidated by anything that I’m going to say to him. I know as soon as the words are spoken that we’re going to have to battle this out to the death—that only one of us can walk out of this place on our own two feet. I hold my breath, waiting to react to whatever is going to happen next. It doesn’t take but a few seconds before he lunges at me, his eyes crazed and his fists swinging.

  We fight. I don’t know how much time passes, but I keep waiting for one of his guys to stab or hit me when the advantage goes my way. I’m in a bad spot. I’m a big guy, but Travis is way bigger. We grapple for dominance while we throw ill-intentioned fists and knees at one another. For every hit he gets in, I get two or three, and eventually I feel him start to weaken. That’s when I feel the kick from behind. The pain is sharp, like a stabbing pain, only I’m not stabbed. I fall over to the side, and that’s when Travis gets to his feet and his boys start to pounce on me. I think I’m done for, but then. . .

  The sound of the gunshot rings out, and I turn to see its source. I freeze instinctually, and when my eyes focus, I can’t believe what I’m looking at. Behind the small cloud of smoke emanating from the barrel of a 357 Magnum handgun is a shaking and crying woman.

  “Ana!” I cry, jumping up.

  I grab the barrel of the gun and pull. She releases it without any struggle, then collapses to the floor, a crying mess. The other two Leviathans grab Travis’ bleeding body and drag him out to the front of Delilah’s place. She killed him. At least I think she did. The shot hit him in the chest, close to where his heart is. As the the two other guys lift Travis’ huge frame upright I see the hole pouring blood like a faucet on full blast. The men hesitate to see if I’m going to shoot them, but the job’s been done. Travis will be dead before he’s back to the compound, or wherever they’re planning on taking him. They flee and I let them—a warning to anyone else who may try something. A few seconds later the sounds of bikes riding off can be heard, and our ordeal is over.

  Delilah runs to Ana’s side and I join them on the ground. The police will be here soon, no doubt, and I need to have a story ready. But first. . .

  “Jesus, are you alright? Where’d you get this gun from?”

  “It was his,” she says. The mention of Joaquin gets her wailing, and I already know what she’s going to say next. “He’s gone, North. They killed my Joaquin!”

  She starts wailing again. It’s a terrible noise. I hold her as tight as I can. “I’m so fucking sorry, Ana. When?”

  “Not long after you left. I went home to get this because I was going to find the person who hurt him and kill them. Then I remembered Delilah texted me, and I thought it would be better to come here first.”

  “It’s no comfort,” I tell her. “But you did kill the man who took Joaquin from us. You got justice. That was him, dying on his way out the door.”

  She starts crying again, and I know the time for conversation is over. I hold her tightly as her tears soak through my shirt. As the sounds of her sorrow penetrate my tough exterior, my tears join her own, and I let out a cry for my best friend.

  I’m crying for Joaquin. For Ana. To release all the stress and mourn for the losses. But beyond that I’m crying at the relief—relief that my Delilah is safe.

  That’s all that matters to me.

  Forty Six—North—Now

  “Our future is just beginning.”

  The painful feeling of de ja vu hit me unlike almost any other feeling I’ve felt as I approach our home. I hitched a ride the rest of the way here, which wasn’t far, but as I finish the last few blocks on foot, I fear that I’m too late. There are bikes outside, and our front door is ajar. This whole scene is playing back in my head like a demon from the past—twisted, ghoulish, haunting. I remember how frightened I was that night, even though I never admitted it to anyone.

  Only this shouldn’t be playing out again, like some twisted version of the past come back to destroy what I have. But that seems to be where we are. Travis is alive, and my Delilah may not be. I do my best to not get swept up in the emotion of all this, and move my ass until I’m at the front door. Inside I hear the commotion—the sounds of screaming. Delilah!

  I bust through the door and see Travis with three guys. Delilah is on the floor, a smear of blood running out of her nose and down her face. That son of a bitch hit her! He’s going to die for this, and he’s going to die by my hands. The man has no idea that he just crossed an invisible line from which there’s no return. But first, the others.

  No one speaks, they just charge.

  It’s hard to describe what happens next, it’s like describing a dream that you just woke from. There are broad strokes that make sense, but mostly how each one plays out is a mystery. Like a dream, it’s like you’re viewing it from the outside, even though it’s your own dream, and somehow, one way or the other, you reach the end of it. That’s what it feels like as Travis’ goons charge me.

  The first guy throws a right hand, which I duck under because I see it coming a mile away. From there, I slip my body underneath his and lift him into the air and over my back. He collapses to the ground and doesn’t move, leaving me to deal with the next one. The second guy gets a shot in, but there’s nothing on it. I roll my head like Muhammad Ali doing the rope-a-dope, and return fire with a punch of my own, only mine gets the job done. He falls down, knocked out, leaving me to deal with goon number three.

  This guy is big. Much bigger than I a
m, and he’s got brass knuckles on his left hand. He must be a southpaw. He comes at me, trying to take me by surprise, but I see him approaching and move out of the way. In seconds he swings, and his brass knuckles bury themselves into my ribs, causing me to go down in blinding pain. I scream out, but not in defeat. My ribs are still sore from earlier when Travis tooled me up. The pain seems unbearable, but I won’t let it overtake me. He makes a critical mistake, following me to the ground, thinking he can end me there with a few more well-placed blows.

  What he doesn’t realize is that he’s in my world, and now that he’s down I’m going to make sure I’m the only one who gets up. He falls right into my guard on the ground, his large body between my legs. He lifts his hand to bring a final blow down on my head, but I move my head to the side as he comes down with his full might. His hand strikes the floor, and as it does I waste no time in sinking in a triangle choke, wrapping my legs around his head in just the right position, and angling my body so as to cut off the blood flow to his brain. He tries to muscle his way out, but I have him. He struggles for almost ten seconds before I feel his energy fade. He’s out, but I hold the choke longer than I need to in order to ensure when I let go, he won’t be able to hurt me. When I feel him fade totally, I stop squeezing with my legs, and his large frame falls over to the side.

  I’m out of breath, and rapidly running out of energy. My body is filled with adrenaline, but I’m not done just yet. I still have to save. . . “Delilah!”