Running on Empty

by SE Jakes

  Motorcycle clubs hadn’t been on Linc’s radar until he’d enlisted. Yeah, he’d known they existed, but until he’d been stationed near Shades Run, he hadn’t realized that there were differences between the clubs, whether they were one percenters or not, and how many wars were waged between the MCs. Or that they’d originally started out in order to help returning veterans.

  He’d learned, before Mercy, that Havoc was founded by four such vets by buying cursed land and making a go of it.

  Later, Ryker confirmed it. “The land liked them. Still does, so it watches out for us.”

  After spending time on the compound, Linc could believe it. There was a good energy, a sense of peace and calm, no matter what was going on in the outside world.

  But until Linc had served and gotten out, he hadn’t understood the importance of being with like minds, with men and women who understood what he’d dealt with in the Army. The shit he’d seen.

  It was why he’d been drawn to Jethro as well. Jethro and Castle were old friends, so Linc had known Jethro for years. Meeting him as a Hangman went down without a hitch because Linc also understood the world of covert ops.

  Because Linc was that world. “You can’t tell me I haven’t been exposed.”

  “Listen, I’d have heard something by now. Heathens kept you hidden and by doing so, made it hell on you, but easy on your cover.”

  “Great. Glad the cover is more important than my fucking life.”

  “It’s not, Linc.” Castle looked remorseful, and Linc knew that he’d taken over being Linc’s handler because of the screwup that’d kept him locked in the Heathens basement for months. But still, the bitterness seeped in at unexpected times. Especially when he thought he’d finally put it behind him.

  He was beginning to realize there was really no such thing. “I need time,” he repeated stubbornly.

  “I won’t argue with you. Stay here as long as you need to. I’ll keep checking in.”

  “To see if I’m ready?”

  “To make sure you’re all right,” Castle corrected.

  Now, more restless than ever and feeling the walls closing in on him, Linc called Rush to announce, “It’s been a goddamned day. I need to get the fuck out of here.”

  Rush made a sympathetic grunt. “I’ll come over. I’ll bring pizza and beer and we’ll hang by the lake.”

  “No. I need to go out.”

  “Want me to bring you here?”

  Here meant Havoc. So no. Linc sighed and tried again. “Who’s out there guarding me tonight?”

  “Hang on—I stole the list off Ryker’s phone.”

  “Of course you did.” And he was never more grateful for Rush’s pickpocketing ways. It helped to know who he’d be facing down while he broke out of his self-imposed jail.

  “Shit—it’s Vann.”

  Vann was talked about in hushed terms by the majority of the Havoc members. Rumor had it he was a contract killer, which was why he spent so much time on the road.

  It made sense. “That’s cool. So are you meeting me at Bertha’s?”

  Rush cursed under his breath. “Are you kidding me, Linc? How’re you gonna get past Vann? Because you and I both know his rep.”

  “Yeah, he’s crazy. At this point, I might be crazier, so we should get along just fine. You’re closer, so you’ll be there first.”

  “Wait, you’re ready to go now?”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “It’s only three in the afternoon.”

  “Close enough to happy hour for me,” Linc countered. “Unless you’re all whipped now. Soft and shit.”

  “You fucker,” Rush snarled.

  “See you soon.” He hung up before giving Rush a chance to say no, dressed quickly, grabbed his wallet and his sunglasses, found his helmet by the front table, and went out to his bike. Bram had kept it up for him, with Linc’s permission, because an unused hog was a goddamned crime.

  Now, he stared at the gorgeous dark beast and wondered what was the worst that could happen on his first ride alone sine he’d been taken—on another ride alone—by Heathens.

  Well, if all goes well, you won’t be alone. It’s not like Vann wouldn’t give chase, he reasoned.

  Or he could have a major fucking panic attack and that would take care of his entire plan, fast. But okay, yeah, he could deal with that.

  He sat on the steps, next to the bike and just breathed, because once he got on it, there was no pausing. He couldn’t give Vann time to think. Linc had to be like a charging bull . . . except that Vann? Kind of like a bull-slash-matador—and a brick wall—all at once. The rumors about him weren’t just rumors, according to Bram.

  Worst worst case? Vann stopped him cold.

  You’ve got to do it. Because if he couldn’t even ride his bike on the open road, he had bigger problems than he thought.

  He breathed in the cool night air and got on the bike and prepared for the open road.

  Crazy Vann will at least follow you . . . if you can get past him.

  Hell, Linc still loved a challenge. He booked it down the road, staring at the open space to Vann’s left. Vann swung the bike right and Linc blew past him. And laughed.

  He checked the mirror and saw Vann following him, not too close but not too far, either. So he settled in and let the open road soothe him, the bike humming between his legs, his muscles pleasantly sore from the work involved in keeping this beast on the road for an hour.

  God, there was nothing fucking like it. Except sex.

  Finally, and almost reluctantly, he pulled into the lot behind Bertha’s. Vann pulled in right next to him, was off his bike before Linc was, standing there like a brick wall, and, for the first time, Linc questioned his own sanity.

  Because even thought he’d never met Vann in person, he’d seen the pictures on the clubhouse wall. And the stories? Legendary.

  In person? The stories and the pictures didn’t do him justice. Linc groaned silently and then mouthed off because he couldn’t help himself. “Are you really going to try to babysit me tonight?”

  He held his breath, but Vann grinned, and Linc swore that he could get pregnant from that smile.

  Then Vann wiped his bottom lip with his thumb. “Sweetheart? I don’t babysit anyone. If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be.”

  His voice was deep. Scary and sexy at the same time.

  “So you let me go on purpose?” Linc asked.

  “Looked like you needed to. Badly.” Vann shrugged. “Riding’s better than sitting around any day of the week. Was that guy who stopped by giving you trouble?”

  “No.” Linc shook his head. “It’s complicated.”

  “What isn’t?”

  “Tonight. Drinking. Dancing. That’s what I’m going to do.”

  “Over whose dead body?”

  “I guess it’ll have to be yours,” Linc said wryly, enjoying the light flirting, mainly because Vann considered his words with a head tilt and a gleam in his eye. “Or you could just come inside with me and drink and dance. I’m sure there will be women there you can fool around with.”

  Vann studied him, his dark eyes like the goddamned devil’s. And then his mouth broke open in a smile and yeah, a devil for sure. “Not looking to fool around with a woman.” And the way he said it? Yeah . . . “So, Linc . . . let’s go drinking and dancing.”

  He’d been so focused on getting inside that he hadn’t realized how goddamned crowded it would be, even at four in the afternoon. Granted, far less than it would be in several hours, but still. And even though it was all friendly faces, the last time he’d been in a crowd this big . . .

  Shit.

  “You going to be okay?” Vann asked.

  “Great. Fine,” he answered absently, but Vann stepped in front of him for a brief second, forcing Linc to stare up at him.

  “You don’t go through what you did without scars. I’m just asking if I can help—arm on your back? Or will touching you freak you the fuck out? Shit like that.”
<
br />   Then Vann moved back by his side and Linc stared straight ahead, because if he didn’t, he was afraid he’d chicken out. “Just . . . touch me. Okay?”

  Vann put a hand on his back, held it there as they moved into the main doors and beyond.

  And it wasn’t weird. It was . . . comforting. Flirtatious. “Were you told . . . to treat me like . . .” He couldn’t finish, mainly because he didn’t want to know.

  “No. I was told not to let your ass off the property. Not to entertain or enable you,” Vann assured him gruffly. “I’m not a fucking people person, Linc. I’m the one they call when they need someone beat up or shit blown up, dig? Usually, I’m not fit for human company. So even if they ordered me to be nice to you, I would’ve done the opposite.”

  “So why did you agree to come with me?”

  “You need to smile more.” Which Linc did, briefly, at his words. “There’s your boy.”

  Yes, Rush was already there, at one of the back tables, waiting. If the bartenders or the bouncers were surprised to see Linc, they hid it well. They were welcoming but not overly smothering, and he sat next to Rush and Vann sat on his other side.

  Vann nodded at Rush. “You’re Ryker’s, yes?”

  “Christ,” Rush muttered, and Vann laughed and shook his head.

  The music was low enough to have conversation. Food was being served, mostly bar stuff, and Vann ordered them a bunch for the table. A few Hangmen MC members came over to talk to him, and they nodded in Linc and Rush’s direction, but kept their conversations focused on Vann.

  Linc had fond memories of this bar. It was Havoc-owned, and he and Rush and Noah used to sneak in here during their days in the Army, even though they’d been prohibited from doing so. It was always a good time, a mix of regular people and MC members from Havoc and Hangmen and Vipers and the like. No Heathens or Pagans had ever been allowed in here, and from what Linc knew, they’d never even bothered to try.

  When Rush started hanging out with Ryker—and Havoc—on a regular basis, they’d come here more frequently. This was where Linc had first seen Mercy, and then spent the next several months trying to get Mercy to actually notice him.

  He’d gotten drunk and gotten arrested purposely to get Mercy’s attention and that’d worked (although he’d never told anyone that had been his ultimate plan). So now, he reasoned, he’d broken out, would get drunk and try to get Mercy’s attention that way (because he wasn’t doing the get-arrested thing again, since he still had to go to court for the first arrest) . . . because insanity was doing the same thing twice and expecting different results . . . and he wasn’t insane. He wanted the same damned results.

  “You’re thinking about Mercy again.” Rush broke into his reverie. “You get this look in your eyes.”

  Linc didn’t bother denying it. “It doesn’t matter. He’s not thinking about me at all, beyond making a protection schedule that doesn’t include him. Except for today’s unannounced visit.” At his words, Rush shifted and looked guilty as anything, so Linc immediately accused him. “You knew he was coming.”

  “No . . . I mean, yes. Dammit.” Rush did a shot, then blurted out, “He’s been visiting you at night.”

  “Like Ryker visited you? Because I think I’d wake up screaming in an entirely different way.”

  Rush snorted. “Not like that. He just . . . waits. Stays up to make sure you’re okay.”

  Listens to your screams. “Since when?”

  The expression on Rush’s face said it all, but he confirmed, “Since your first night in the hospital.”

  “But I banned him.”

  “Can’t ban people from the hallway. Besides, Misha . . .”

  “Right.” Sweet’s sister was an ER doctor and had watched over him for most of his stay in the hospital and again now, while he was at the lake house.

  “Don’t get pissed at him.”

  He wasn’t angry, just confused. “So he visited me at the hospital. How long have you known about this?”

  “I wasn’t supposed to tell you,” was Rush’s nonanswer. “I thought it might freak you out. Plus, Ryker gave me strict instructions that I couldn’t tell you, but hey, since you actually asked . . .”

  Linc understood Rush’s dilemma. And he got why Mercy wouldn’t want him to know. After all, Linc was the one who’d banned Mercy from the hospital and the house, saying he didn’t want to see him, so what did he expect? Obviously, Mercy staying here didn’t mean anything beyond protection, which he no doubt felt bound to do, and he didn’t want Linc to read into anything. “It’s fine. Doesn’t mean anything.”

  Rush just stared at him like he was an alien. “Now I understand why Noah wanted to kill me when Ryker started sending me roses and I blew it off and thought he was making fun of me.”

  “Well, that was dumb,” Linc muttered.

  “Right. That was dumb.” Rush rolled his eyes. “Did you not hear me? Mercy slept at the hospital every single night. Watching over you.”

  “Because he didn’t like being told what to do. Purely obstinate.” Linc shrugged. “Obligation. Guilt.”

  “And he stays at the lake house too. Every night since you first got there. He sleeps out on the porch, rain or shine.”

  Dammit. “I need tequila.”

  Rush paled visibly. “No, not the tequila. That’s full of bad decisions and recriminations.”

  “Yes,” Linc said firmly. “You and me both.”

  “As much as I’d like to affirm your bad judgment, who will drive me home then?”

  “Fine. Then I’m drinking all of it,” Linc told him, and he saw fear in his friend’s eyes.

  “God, we’re fucked.”

  At the mention of fucked, Vann perked up. “Come again?”

  “Tequila,” Linc repeated.

  “I’m on it.” Vann went to the bar.

  “Why’s he so nice to you?” Rush demanded.

  “He’s probably planning on blowing me up later,” Linc surmised.

  Vann snorted from behind him. He poured Linc a shot from the full tequila bottle he held. He’d also brought a salt shaker and a bowl of lemon wedges.

  Linc wasn’t taking anything stronger than Advil at this point, so he said fuck it and took the shot. And then a second and his brain calmed the fuck down.

  “Great service.” He toasted Vann.

  Vann seemed amused by him.

  He was probably that way right before he killed someone.

  Over the course of the next hour, Vann continued to ply him with shots (and, to be fair, food and water). He was an outrageous flirt . . . and fuck it all, so was Boomer, who pulled his chair over and joined in the fun.

  And then Linc was dancing—with Vann and Rush and Boomer and an entire crowd of people. For the first time in a long time, there was no pain. He was still all hollowed out inside, but for these moments, he was happy. The pound of the music blasted out the back of his skull, his skin warmed as Vann and Boomer’s hard bodies hemmed him in. Rush was on the dance floor too, flirting with some of the women of Havoc. For some reason, Rush could get away with that shit where none of the other men could.

  On one of his many dance floor breaks, Linc downed a couple of waters with a beer chaser, listening to Vann’s stories and enjoying himself more than he had in a long time. He was still lonely, which was an odd fucking feeling for him, and the hole in his heart wasn’t going to be filled that easily.

  But hell, Vann was being a damned good friend.

  Speaking of damned good friends, Rush suddenly turned to him, his face frozen in an oh shit expression and yelled over the music, “Tug’s here.”

  Which really, wouldn’t be that big of a deal, except Tug had his phone to his ear and was making a beeline straight toward them. He’d definitely been sent or called here.

  “Hey guys.” Tug stopped at their table and glanced at Vann, who gave him a nod and wink. “So, what’s up?”

  “How’d you know we were here?” Linc asked outright.

  “Wasn’t
me,” Vann told him.

  “Me neither,” Boomer echoed.

  Linc glanced at Rush. “You were followed.”

  “He thought he was alone, if that helps,” Tug offered, a small smile akin to that of a naughty child who was quite proud of his transgressions.

  Rush glared at him. “I wasn’t followed—”

  “Not that you can tell.”

  “I know how to lose a tail, Tug,” Rush insisted. “So what the hell?” And then a look of horror crossed his face. “Was some kind of chip implanted in me when I slept?”

  “You watch too much of that Jason Bourne shit,” Tug chided.

  “With you,” Rush pointed out and Tug laughed and Linc had to admit he’d missed this camaraderie.

  “Has to be the car,” he told his friend.

  Rush shook his head. “I checked the car. Don’t you think I know . . .” He froze. Looked down and glared at the watch he wore like it was the enemy.

  Then he took it off, threw it on the ground, and smashed it under his boot. He reached down and scooped up the parts, sifted through and pulled out a bug. “That fucker had a tracker in his watch.”

  “That’s Ryker’s?” Linc asked.

  “Yes, dammit,” Rush said as Ryker magically appeared. “And you know better than to say his name out loud.”

  “So he’s like a fuckin’ genie now?” Vann asked, and Linc snorted in collusion.

  Ryker, however, wasn’t amused, standing there, arms crossed. The first thing Rush did was stand and grab Ryker’s hand. He opened it and poured the pieces of the broken watch into his palm.

  “That was my favorite watch,” Ryker said mournfully, staring at the pile of metal and glass Rush had dumped into his palm.

  “You get what you give.”

  “Wearing it that first night,” Ryker said, and Rush’s expression softened. “’S’all right, baby. You’re more important than any watch.”

  An odd tug yanked at Linc’s heart that he recognized made him turn away and subsequently ignore it.

  At least Mercy hadn’t come—it was better that way.

  As if Vann sensed Linc’s sudden change of mood, he passed him a shot and took one of his own, clinking their glasses together. Then Vann’s arm went around his chair, like he was shielding him. “You don’t have to leave till you’re ready. No one’s getting through me.”