by Lena Bourne
We’re outside. It’s dark, dusty and as silent as the grave. I can hear the dried grass that covers the empty field on the other side of the wall surrounding this place rustling—no, hissing—in the cool breeze.
I hear more than see the knife appear in Crow’s hand. Mouse has let me go and is looking at me with no expression on his face. None at all.
“No,” I whisper. “You don’t have to do this. We can talk about this. We can work something out.”
Crow chuckles and it’s such a cold sound a shiver runs down my spine. “I’ll enjoy this more than anything else you can give me.”
And I have no doubt, absolutely no doubt whatsoever that he means it.
He presses the tip of the knife to my throat, then slides the blade gently along my neck. I’m as stiff as a board, not daring to move a single muscle, not daring to breathe, still as though I’m already dead, waiting to feel the hot blood running down my breasts that’ll tell me I’m right.
“Not here, Crow,” Mouse says, but very quietly like he’d rather not speak. “Take her out in the field.”
Fuck! Even he’s afraid of what’s about to happen to me. And he’s a built, tall man, at least six-six. I’m transfixed by Crow’s black eyes. In them, death is waiting for me. My death. He’ll cut me up in a field of hissing dry grass like some animal he just caught.
Colt
The sound of bikes rumbling to life out front nearly deafens me as the guy manages to drag me out into the courtyard. The dust raised by the bikes of all those Griff just kicked out from the bar is a cloud rising over the wooden fence surrounding this compound, glimmering in the places the yellow streetlamp light hits it. Other than that, the courtyard is dark, silent, and deserted. Nothing’s moving anywhere, and I thank my lucky stars Griff and the other two didn’t follow us outside.
Blaze must know something went wrong by now. He was probably watching for me to come out, might’ve even tried to follow me in. I hope he doesn’t. No sense in both of us facing this shit.
I make myself heavy, dragging my feet, which makes the guy holding me grab me tighter, but also causes him to pant harder. Good. I want him as winded as I can make him.
“Listen, this is all just a misunderstanding,” I tell him. “I don’t know that woman. I liked the look of her the last time I was here, so I just came in to get a piece of ass.”
“Shut up,” he snarls breathlessly. He probably can’t say much more, because he doesn’t.
“How about you just let me go,” I persist. “I never done anything to you.”
“The boss’ orders are the boss’ orders,” he says and has to sigh out the last word.
This is as good a chance as I’m gonna get. We’re past the bar and the office part attached to the back of it. The only light here is from the moon, since the streetlamp light doesn’t reach this far back. But there’s still plenty of buildings around, mostly squat, low ones with dark windows. But anyone could be in there. I gotta make this quick and quiet. No use thinking too hard about it. Either it works or it fails. My situation probably can’t get much worse as it is.
I reach for the knife on my belt, surprised at how sweaty my palm is as I wrap it around the leather hilt.
Now or never.
It’s all the incentive I need.
I go lax and soft, and stop dead in my tracks. He’s got quite a few pounds on me, but the change in his burden surprises him enough to mess up his gait. He halts too, even loosens his grip on my arm just enough for me to twist it free. And the next thing he knows, if he ever had time to know anything more, is the sensation of my cold, sharp knife slicing into the soft part of his throat. He makes no sound, takes no more breaths as I lower him down to the ground slowly to prevent a thump.
I’m the one breathing hard by the time I manage to drag him out of sight behind one of the dark structures.
Don’t think, just do. It’s a motto I’ve come to adopt since joining Devil’s Nightmare MC. It was either him or me.
Now I’m alone in the silent courtyard with no idea what to do next.
I should’ve just let him lead me to Crow.
But then I’d be outnumbered two to one.
From the moment they took issue with me asking for Brenda, my choices were all bad ones. For now, I can only hope I chose the one that was the least bad.
My options are severely limited now. I can either wait for them to bring her out. Or I could search for her. There’s also the option of making a run for it, but it barely crosses my mind. I’ve come here to do a job and I’m gonna do it. I don’t consider coming here to look for Brenda a bad decision, but that’s still most likely my dick talking.
I’m pretty sure they’re holding her in the same place they held Ace and his woman. So that’s where I’ll start looking. And I’ll try not to fear that maybe Crow already got to her.
Brenda
I’m paralyzed looking into Crow’s black eyes. Moonlight glints off them, because they don’t absorb light. They’re too dark and dead and they’re growing even darker, even deader the longer I look into them. Like a void. Like a black hole. Exactly like death. Fight! Fight! Fight! A voice is screaming inside my head, but it’s very far away and behind some sort of thick fog, so the command is not getting through to my legs.
“How about we have some fun with her first,” Mouse suggests with a chuckle, but his voice is tight. It makes my heart race even faster than it was already racing.
“I’d prefer this one all to myself,” Crow says in that eerie accent of his. “I’ll take my time in once and for wiping all the nasty looks she gave me from behind the bar.”
I don’t even want to think about what that means. I’m not sure I even gave him any especially nasty looks, but then again, I gave all of them nasty, angry looks so he’s probably right.
“All right,” Mouse says and glances at me, intensifying my fear, turning it to dread with the fear in his. “Don’t draw too much attention.”
“Don’t worry about it, Mouse,” Crow drawls. “You go have yourself a wee drink and relax.”
The sound of boots thumping against the hard earth beneath our feet interrupts whatever Mouse was gonna say in reply. In the next second, he’s on his knees clutching the side of his neck, black blood bubbling from under his fingers. A man is standing next to him holding a knife, blood trickling off the blade.
Mouse falls to the ground with a thud, not a sound escaping his open mouth.
“Let her go,” the man says, and I recognize him now. It’s the guy from the bar. The one who disappeared on me. The one I thought I could leave with. I still can!
Crow grabs my arm and pulls me against his chest, holding me against his body with one arm and pressing his cold knife into my throat with the other. Maybe not. My death is so close I can smell the cold steel of the knife that will deliver it.
“Be still or she dies right here,” Crow says, but there’s a tightness in his voice. Like he’s not so sure what to do next. Like this is so far out of the fantasy that was already playing in his mind before Colt showed up that he has trouble adjusting to the new reality. Fucking piece of shit! I’ll show him the new reality!
I stomp as hard as I can on his foot, while at the same time driving the elbow of my free arm into his stomach. My guardian angel, who doesn’t show up very often, must’ve been guiding it because I hit exactly the right spot to take his air. He loosens his hold on me in his struggle to breathe, and I tear free, sliding and nearly falling on the dusty ground in my haste to get away from his knife.
Colt steps between us, holding his knife sideways as he readies to fight Crow. He has height and build on his side compared to the Irish guy, but the taller, more muscular man doesn’t always win the fight. I know. I’ve seen it.
They circle each other like two cats as they size each other up, the only sound the scuffing of their shoes against the dirt. This could still go so very wrong.
And the second I think it, Crow lunges forward, slashing with his knife, drivi
ng Cold back towards me. Colt manages to stay well away from the slashes, but Crow keeps on coming, his eyes glinting silver in the moonlight, his face a mask of the quiet rage that’s the scariest kind. Colt makes a move, lunges, and slices forward, but Crow changes his grip on the knife and the direction of his slashes with the speed of thought. He cuts Colt on the arm, driving the blade deep enough to make him gasp.
This could still go so very wrong.
I won’t let it.
I grope around the waistband of Mouse’s belt, looking for his gun. But my guardian angel isn’t with me anymore. He collapsed down on the holster as he died, and he weighs about a ton.
The sound of feet on dirt grows louder as Colt and Crow really get into their knife fight, both grunting and breathing hard now. I’m afraid to look at what’s happening. Afraid to see Colt fall.
I grunt and groan and kick at Mouse’s body until the moonlight finally shows me the metal handle of his gun. I have it in my shaking, sweaty palm the next second. It’s cold and heavy and more welcome than anything I’ve ever held.
Only then do I dare look up at the fight. They’re still circling each other, the quiet rage on Crow’s face now replaced by cold determination. Colt is determined too, far from beaten, but his moves are no match for Crow’s practiced slashes with the knife. The man’s using both hands, handing the knife from his right hand to his left with the deftness and practice of a circus artist. What kinda creature is this guy?
He would’ve used that same talent to cut me up. I know that with the same certainty that I know my name. I point the gun at him, selecting the widest target, which is his chest, just like my dad taught me.
Colt goes for him getting in my line of sight and I let out the breath I was holding with a shudder. Don’t think, just shoot. I hear my father’s voice as clearly as though he’s whispering the words in my ear.
The moment Colt moves back to get some distance from Crow’s knife I squeeze the trigger. The kick knocks my shoulder back painfully, just as the silence of the nighttime courtyard disappears under what sounds like a mountain exploding. It echoes off into the distance before I dare really look at what I’ve done.
Someone grabs my arm. “Come on, we gotta run!”
It’s Colt, he’s winded, and the sweat on his brow is shimmering in the moonlight. Crow is lying on the ground, on his back, his eyes open and black, no different than they were while he was still alive.
I don’t need to be told twice. I barely feel my feet hitting the dirt as we run, but I do feel Colt’s hand on my arm pulling me forward. It’s a warm feeling, a good sensation, welcoming, and safe. Despite the fact that I’ve just killed a man.
Colt
I let go of her hand and point at the dumpster once we reach the wall of the Sinner’s compound, whisper we have to climb over it. But I don’t think she heard me. She’s heading for the wide double door and has it open before I can stop her.
“Come on, we have to get away from here,” she urges, her eyes sparkling in the moonlight, but still blue like a gem.
“Wait, I’ll go first,” I say and open the gate just wide enough to squeeze through.
I didn’t need to worry about us being seen. The parking lot where I left Blaze is deserted, and so silent, I can hear the dry grass in the fields surrounding this place rustling.
But Blaze and my bike are gone too.
“What’s the best way away from here so we’re not seen from the road?” I ask her in a whisper that sounds way too loud in the silent darkness.
My heart is still thumping from almost losing that knife fight with Crow. I would’ve lost it, I ain’t too proud to admit that. We’d both be dead if she hadn’t found her head and shot him. Wicked. A true badass. Despite everything, despite almost getting killed, despite now being stuck in the middle of nowhere with no transportation, I don’t regret coming back for her. Not even a little bit.
“This way,” she says and heads straight across the lot to some bushes that are just a darker, higher mass against the dark field behind them.
I’m worried we’ll be seen, I wish I had my gun on me, but there really is no better choice than to follow her lead. The only way in and out of here is the gravel road and we’ll definitely be seen there.
“Where the fuck were you?” Blaze whispers when we’re still yards from the bush.
Brenda stops dead in her tracks, a sound between a whimper and a scream coming from her mouth.
“It’s all right, he’s with me,” I tell her, just as Blaze appears from behind the bush.
“Seriously, Colt, I was about to call in reinforcements. What the fuck were you doing in there? The bar closed almost an hour ago.”
I know that tone. He’s thinking I took my sweet time fucking her, while he waited outside for me.
“Trying not to get killed, actually,” I tell him, letting my tone do the conveying how wrong he was in his assumption.
“What?” he asks kinda breathlessly.
“No time to explain now, I’ll tell you later,” I say. “We gotta go.”
“The bikes are behind here,” he says and leads the way.
Brenda has her arms wrapped tight around her chest and her face is so pale it’s sparkling in the moonlight. Delayed shock over killing a man? Over almost dying? Probably both. I just hope it hasn’t rendered her speechless yet, because we still need her to show us a different way out of here.
“Get on,” I tell her as I roll my bike from behind the bush and mount it. I’m trying to sound gentle, but I’m not sure I know the first thing about that.
She snaps her arms away from her chest and deftly climbs on behind me, wrapping one arm around my waist and pointing into the dark distance behind the bar. “Go that way. It’s a shortcut out of town.”
I rev my bike, and Blaze asks no questions before doing the same. Then we ride across the gravel lot and onto the grassy field, the bumpy terrain making her hold on to my waist as tight as she can. Having her behind me on my bike, holding on so tight, her hot breath warming my neck, is all sorts of dreams come true—ones I never even knew I dreamed.
Brenda
The night grows deeper, darker, and cooler, the rumbling of their two bikes louder than any bikes I’ve ever heard in the sleeping silence. Traffic is non-existent on this stretch of road, as I hoped it would be. We’ve been riding for a while, and only one car passed us.
I’m leaning against Colt’s back with all my weight, holding him tight around the waist. Tighter than I need to since we’re not going all that fast. As tight as I want to. His body is warm and solid, yet somehow soft too, and it’s the best thing I’ve felt in more than six months. This is the best I’ve felt in over six months. Longer, really. If I could just stop shivering, this ride would be perfect.
His friend is riding in front of us, glancing back every so often. He signals right then pulls over onto the shoulder. Colt stops behind him and is waiting for me to get off so he can dismount too, but I’m good right here, I don’t really want to move.
“You all right?” he asks me, trying to turn so he can look at me.
“Yes, perfect,” I say and squeeze closer to him.
“I think she’s in some kind of shock,” he tells his friend who’s now standing beside us. “She shot a guy back there.”
“Fuck, I thought I heard a shot,” the friend says. “I just hoped I was wrong. What are you gonna do with her? You can’t bring her back to the bunker, you do know that?”
“I knew it going in,” Colt says testily, trying to pry open my arms so he can look at me, but I’m content to just let them keep talking. I don’t need to be a part of this conversation.
“Shit, you sure she’s not on something?” Colt’s friend asks. “That’s the last thing we need.”
“It’s just shock,” Colt says, but he somehow doesn’t sound very sure. Smart guy. This fogginess in my brain could very well be the madness I’m sure I’ve inherited from my mom rearing its ugly head in me. She was all dreamy and lethar
gic in the beginning, that’s how it’s started. I need to pull myself together. Right now. Right the fuck now.
“Remember how I was the first time I killed a guy?” he adds. “I still don’t want to think of that. It’s hard.”
“This is so messed up, Colt. How many guys did you kill back there?”
“Three,” Colt says. “And the third one would’ve gotten me if she hadn’t shot me. She basically saved my life. Let’s find a motel for her. She’ll be fine in the morning.”
“And then what?”
Right the fuck now. Get it together, Brenda.
“I’m fine,” I say, my voice so weak I barely hear it. “I got money for a bus ticket out of this place.”
“It’s like 2 AM,” the friend says. “I bet there’s no buses going in and out of this sorry ass town.”
I start shivering harder. He didn’t even say it harshly, but it just yanked the little bit of reality I’d managed to get a grip on right out of my grasp again.
“You go on back to the bunker, Blaze,” Colt says. “Tell Ace what happened and that I’ll be back tomorrow morning. I gotta get her to a bed.”
“You’re such a dog,” Blaze scoffs, but it was a poor attempt at mockery. He sounded way too concerned and kinda scared.
“I got this, don’t worry about it,” Colt says, and I like how sure he sounds. At least one of the three of us sounds like he’s got it together.
“If you’re sure,” Blaze says, doubt thick in his voice.
“I’m sure,” Colt replies.
Then his friend is walking away and Colt is telling me to hang on. What else am I gonna do? Good thing it’s also the only thing I want to do.
The next thing I’m aware of is sitting on the back of his bike alone, not shivering, and not quite awake. We’re in a parking lot of a roadside motel, the place quiet, dark, and almost empty. A silver station wagon is parked right next to me, there’s a beat-up dark pickup truck a ways away and a couple of bikes. But all the windows of the motel are dark. Most of the only illumination is coming from the reception booth, where I see Colt through the huge windows getting a room.
