by Krane, Kasey
6
Carmen
As Judge strode across the parking lot, carrying me like I weighed no more than a sack of sugar, I couldn’t help but wonder how the hell I’d gotten into this situation. I wasn’t gonna lie, not even to myself, and claim that I’d led a blameless life, but on the other hand, I couldn’t recall anything I’d done to deserve something like this.
That shoots the karma theory in the ass…
I shouldn’t be dramatic and say that I never expected to see him again; after all, my parents ran in the same social circle. I hadn’t expected to be so lucky as to never see him again; that was just asking too much of the negligent gods who’d been watching over my life thus far. But I sure as hell hadn’t expected it to be like this. I’d always thought it’d be at a Christmas party, where he’d come in with a beautiful wife and three small children and I’d have to grin and bear it and ask him how the MC life was treating him and then bitch slap him for being an idiot.
To be honest, I probably would’ve just started with the bitch slapping.
As he started to cross the mostly empty parking lot, I spotted the Harley. And then peered down Judge’s legs and saw his leather chaps, something he wouldn’t have worn if he’d driven a car to the hospital. And then I realized that he expected me to ride on that thing.
“Judge,” I said, a warning tone in my voice. “We’re not, by any chance, going towards that…that bike, right?” He winced but kept walking, staring straight ahead as he did so.
I took that for the answer that it was, and crossed my arms, pulling away from him as I did so. At least this time I don’t have the IV tube to contend with.
“Timothy David Michaelson,” I said, my voice growing more cantankerous by the moment, his wincing at his real name being used growing apace with my anger. “You’re not honestly expecting me to get onto that…that thing with you, right?” This time, I couldn’t even bring myself to say bike.
Motorcycles represented everything that tore me and Judge apart after graduation. They were dangerous and reckless and he’d eventually chosen them over her. He’d chosen the Dead Legion over me.
He’d chosen Bishop over me.
It was the one part of their lives that had never meshed. For the longest time, I’d thought that motorcycles were going to be a phase, just like my daddy had assured me they were. High school boys and motorcycles - two halves to a whole. Of course he was going to love them. But he would love me more, in the end.
Except, he hadn’t.
“Carmen Williams,” he said, mimicking me, “you can hate bikes all you want. You can hate the Dead Legion all you want. You can yell at me until you turn blue in the face, once we get to safety. But right here, right now, we’re out in the open, and if a Sangre came around the corner, I’d have no way to protect you. We. Have. Got. To. Go.”
I gritted my teeth in anger. I wanted down, goddammit. I was going to be fine. I didn’t need Judge. I could at least walk to the motorcycle. He could give me that part of my dignity back. I jabbed him in the stomach with my elbow and with a yelp, his grip on loosened. I wiggled my way out of his arms, using his surprise to my advantage, and took off walking as quickly as I could towards the dreaded machine.
A part of me, far, far away and quiet, knew that I was being slightly irrational about the whole thing. I couldn’t blame Judge for the Sangre trying to kill me. He had nothing to do with it. It wasn’t like he stood on that bus next to the asshole that shot me and helped him do it. He’d just saved my life, and I knew I was being an ungrateful bitch at the moment.
But that part of me was very quiet and oh so far away. The loud, angry, pissed part of me was upfront and yelling. It was hard to hear over that noise.
“I need you to wake the guys up,” Judge said, startling me. What?! What guys?! I turned back towards him and opened up my mouth to ask him what the hell he was talking about when I realized that he was on the phone. I could hear angry, indecipherable noises coming through, and figured it had to be Bishop he was talking to.
“We’re busting out of here,” Judge said, talking over Bishop. “A Sangre tried to kill her a half hour ago. I’ll tell you all about it when we get there. We’ll be there in about an hours.”
And then hung up while Bishop was still talking.
I could only stare at him, wide-eyed. I’d never once, ever, in my entire life, imagined that Judge was even capable of hanging up on Bishop. What the hell happened in the 13 years that I was gone?
As we reached the motorcycle, I could only be grateful that my dad had thought to bring my clothes to the hospital in preparation of my release. At least I wouldn’t have to ride a motorcycle in a hospital gown, all of my… parts flapping in the wind for all of the world to see.
“I’m sorry, Carmen, my helmet won’t fit over your bandage,” he said regretfully, gesturing to my head with said helmet in hand. I hesitated for a moment and then realized he was right. Only a helmet made for a giant would be big enough to fit over the bandage on my head.
“Fine, just try not to kill us, will ya?” I said drily.
As I watched him put his helmet on, I admitted to myself that he hadn’t expected to have to Judge me out of the hospital at four in the morning - it wasn’t like he’d driven the Harley to the hospital just to piss me off. I could quit being so bitch, for the moment. I’d be pissed off later. He’d promised me the chance to chew his ass out thoroughly. I’d be angry then.
“Well now, you just take all the fun out of it,” he said and grinned at me. I couldn’t help but smile back.
I swung onto the bike behind him but pulled back in surprise when he reached into his waistband at the small of his back and pulled out a fucking cannon. Okay, slightly smaller than a cannon, but not by much. I let out a small yelp, but he ignored it and pulled forward slowly.
I placed my hands on his hips, attempting to stay as far away from him as possible without actually falling off. Who the hell carries a gun with them to the hospital?? Who is this man and what did he do with my Judge?! We drove slowly out of the parking lot, but as we passed an even larger motorcycle with super tall handlebars that stuck out abnormally from the bike, Judge calmly raised his gun and shot out the tires. The sound was a deafening roar that made my ears ring and my eyes widen in shock. Judge then calmly slid the gun into a leather pocket up by the handlebars.
He’s so calm about shooting that cannon. Why is he calm about shooting a small cannon? What the fuck happened since I’ve been gone? I scooted even further away from him, balancing precariously on the back of the bike. I didn’t know who the hell this Judge guy was - he looked an awful lot like my boyfriend from high school but he was acting like someone else. Like a gang member or a thug or…something.
We pulled up to a stop sign at the edge of the hospital parking lot, and Judge called back to me over his shoulder, “You’re gonna need to hold on better than that. Tuck your head against my back and close your eyes.” He waited until I’d reluctantly slid my arms fully around his waist and snuggled up against his thighs with mine before he turned right out of the parking lot and headed for home.
Home. When did I start thinking of Deming as ‘home’ again?
As the bike picked up speed and my hair began to whip around my face as we rode, I closed my eyes and the scene popped into my mind instantly, unbidden.
“It’s too fucking hot out here. Let’s go up into the mountains.” Bishop’s voice cut through the flirting Judge and I had been silently engaged in and I mentally cursed him. Bishop, oblivious as ever - such a guy - had no idea we’d even been doing anything but innocently sitting there. I sometimes wondered if Bishop would notice a fireworks display; he certainly seemed to be missing the ones Judge and I had been putting on.
“I have a friend - Tina, do you guys remember her? - I bet she’d like to go with us.” I kept myself from rolling my eyes, but only just barely. Judge bit back his own laughter. Bishop didn’t have Flavor of the Week - he had Flavor of the Hour - sometimes Fl
avor of the Half Hour. Someday, some girl was gonna catch his attention and force him to pay attention to her for more than 30 minutes at a time, but that someday hadn’t happened yet.
Bishop met them up at Diamonds Peak with Tina riding double on his motorcycle. Bikes freaked me the fuck out - I’d seen one too many wrecks where the guy never walked again - and I’d refused to ride double on Judge’s bike, so we took his car up instead.
When we stepped out of the car, the vista opened up in front of us and I sighed appreciatively. Maybe dry, brown desert wasn’t my style, but standing up here on this mountain, I could enjoy the stark beauty in front of me, even if I preferred the sand that came on the ocean beach instead.
“Wow!” Tina said, somehow turning that word into two syllables. “This is, like, totally rad. Thanks for bringing me up here, baby.” Apparently ‘thank you’s’ included a full make-out session in Tina’s world and she and Bishop spent some time swapping spit.
Sure that Bishop’s attention was elsewhere, I felt free to roll my eyes. Judge caught the gesture and grinned down at me. “Wanna go hike around a little?” he asked.
“That’d be great!” I said, a little too enthusiastically. I grimaced at myself, and Judge broke out into laughter.
“Well, anything that makes you that happy…” he said, teasing. He took my hand and we hiked around the rock formations for a while, stopping occasionally to drink out of the canteen Judge had prudently thought to bring along.
“I know we decided that it was cooler up here than down there,” I said eventually, panting, finding a shady rock to sit on, “but I think that only helps if we sit on our asses instead of wandering around.”
“Yeah, we’re probably doing this wrong,” Judge agreed with a smile. “Let me walk around to the other side of these rocks to see if there’s anything to explore over there, or any shady spots to enjoy.” He winked at me and I laughed, settling back onto the limestone rock a little more. It had a funky bump right in the middle of it, making it difficult to get comfortable, and as I squirmed around, I glanced down.
And froze.
And couldn’t scream. Or move. Or even whimper. I’d turned into limestone rock. I was terrified. Petrified. I didn’t know, just didn’t know anything. In that moment, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to recall my name. I was just staring, and that…that thing was staring back at me. Evil. It was going to coil and strike and bite me and eat me, and the coyotes were going to gnaw on my bones.
Far away, in another galaxy perhaps, there was noise and I realized in the tiny part of my brain that was still processing noise, that Judge was talking to me, but I couldn’t understand him. Nothing existed except me, and this…thing that was staring at me with its beady little eyes.
Then it was flying through the air, far away from me, and the spell was gone. I could hear again, but it didn’t matter. I began to shake and whimper. Then Judge was picking me up and carrying me, making little soothing noises, telling me it was going to be okay. I couldn't unclench my teeth enough to respond, but the shakes got bigger and the tears began rolling, unchecked, down my cheeks.
Judge was telling Bishop that we were going and the stupid airhead with him whined about ruining her fun, and then Judge was driving to my house. He unbuckled my seat belt and carried me up the back staircase. I was remembering how he’d carried me the first night we’d met and how I’d trusted him then, too. He laid me down on my bed and pulled off my shoes and curled up beside me, stroking my arm.
“It’s gonna be okay, it’s gonna be okay,” he repeated over and over again in a singsong voice and then, “It’s gone. It’s never coming back again,” and the fact that he was smart enough not to use that word is what made me fall in love with Judge right then and there. I finally moved and curled up on my side, into him, and I cried, great heaving sobs, and he held me and told me that everything was going to be okay.
And I believed him. I could always believe Judge.
* * *
He slowed down and finally came to a gentle stop. I opened up my eyes and realized we’d made it back to Deming. Somewhere along the way, I’d fallen asleep. “How you doing back there?” he called back over his shoulder.
“Ummm…” I said with a yawn. “A little tired.”
“We’re almost to the clubhouse. Hang on a little longer.” He took off from the stop sign and I snuggled back down against him happily. I felt like a child, wrapped up and safe. Nothing could harm me here. I could spend the rest of my life on this bike, safe from the world. Safe from the Sangre. Somehow, my fear of motorcycles had dissipated a little. Maybe it was Judge and how I always knew I’d be safe with him. Maybe it was me growing up.
Maybe it was both.
The Harley came to a stop again, and this time, Judge cut the engine. “We’re here, Carmen,” he said softly into the cool morning air. Sitting up, I stretched. The disappearance of the rumbling of the motorcycle was disorienting and as I dismounted from the bike and looked around, I was rudely thrown back into reality. This is a motorcycle club and I don’t belong here.
Judge grabbed my hand and pulled me forward. “C’mon, all of the guys are waiting inside. We better get going.” I stumbled, weakness overtaking me in a Judge, drowning me in its dark embrace. I wanted nothing more than to lie down on a bed and continue my nap. Sleep until I actually felt better.
Supporting me as we walked, Judge and I made it into the clubhouse, when I spied Bishop.
Fuck it, not him. Not right now.
Bishop came bounding over, followed by a short - everyone is short to you, Carmen - curvy, gorgeous red haired gal. She seemed rather possessive of Bishop, and I blinked several times, wondering if my eyesight had gone a little weird on me.
Before I could decide if I was completely losing it - head injuries did that to a person, right? - the red head was nudging Bishop and jerking her head towards me in a not-so-subtle “suggestion” to introduce us. Bishop’s eyes flicked over her and in that moment, I regretted agreeing to Judge’s harebrained idea. Goddammit, I don’t think I can make it through this!
Aided by an even less subtle nudge than before, Bishop finally remembered his manners and barked out, “Carmen, this is Jules Parker, my girlfriend. Jules, this is Carmen Williams. The bitch that left Deming 13 years ago and was never going to come back.” Maybe “remembered his manners” was a bit of a stretch, after all.
All of the air left the room in that moment, and the world tilted just a little bit as I tried to remember to breathe. And then, Judge was punching Bishop and I thought that I had finally crossed over into a full-blown hallucination because Judge would die for Bishop, and I knew it, and everyone knew it and then there was a fight. Right in front of me. Judge was taller but Bishop was built like a fucking brick house, and I felt a cry of desperation and worry fly out of my mouth unbidden as the world started to go black around the edges.
Jules was holding me up - when did that happen??? - and then there was a guy in a leather vest on my other side and they were walking me towards the back of the clubhouse. Jules was prattling on about how everything was going to be okay but I had a hard time holding onto the words. They were slipping away, no matter how hard I tried to reach out and hold them in my hands. Hold them in my mind.
And then they were pulling off my shoes and pulling the covers over me and I sighed into the pillow. “Thank you,” I said, except it came out funny - shank oo - and I wanted to say I was sorry and tell them that I would leave and never bother anyone ever again, but the darkness had come and it swallowed me whole.
7
Judge
The guys were pulling us apart, and I gave a few more halfhearted swings at Bishop’s stubborn-ass head before I finally let the other members win our tug-a-war. We stood glaring at each other, two worn-out bulls in an arena, breathing heavily. I noted the blood trickling from Bishop’s eyebrow with satisfaction, and then the bruise that was already starting to form around his eye. He deserved every bit of that, calling my Carmen a bitch.
I stopped short.
When did she become my Carmen? She hasn’t been my Carmen in years.
“Let’s go into the chapel,” Bishop barked, and the men walked in, subdued. We gathered around the large stainless steel table that dominated the room, with Bishop at the head. It was the first time since the shoot-out at the motel four days ago that we’d met as a club, and of course, it was the first meeting of the Dead Legion where Bishop was president. It felt strangely weird and yet somehow exactly right not to see Ghost sitting there, a jackass smile on his face, trying to convince the club to follow yet another one of his godawful ideas.
Bishop looked around the table at each of the members one by one. “My brothers,” he finally said, “thank you for your confidence in me. Thank you for backing me when the chips were down. Killing Ghost that night was one of the most fucking awful things I’ve ever had to do, and seeing it split our club in two…I hope we never have shit like that happen again.” His eyes flicked over to me and as always, I knew what he was thinking. I knew Bishop was worried that after having already split our club in two, that he was about to lose his best friend too.
I jerked my head once in acknowledgment of Bishop’s fears, and Bishop nodded back. I took a deep breath and looked down at the table, letting the air out slowly. We may have been trying to pound each other into the ground minutes before, but we were still together. We were still on the same side.
“First order of business: As the new club president, I want to name Judge as my vice-president. We may have our differences when it comes to certain brunettes,” Bishop continued with a lopsided grin, “but Judge is the best choice I could make for that position.”
Bishop hadn’t discussed this with me beforehand, but it didn’t matter. Despite Bishop’s complete lack of manners when it came to Carmen, we were best friends. “Absolutely,” I said without hesitation. Bishop nodded his thanks and then turned towards Knight. “And I want you as my Sgt at Arms and Ride Master.”
