Before we get back into the SUV, I take one last lingering look at the biker who’s given me so much pleasure over the last few days, admiring the figure he makes as he sits on his bike, waiting for us to get moving. Even before my accident I’d have counted myself fortunate to have attracted the interest of the likes of him, and as it is, I can’t believe he’s not just able to overlook my disability, but embraces it. As my eyes greedily soak him in, I try to harden my heart. This ends soon. It has to.
Peg slips the gears into drive and we pull away, I think back to the previous night, and shift awkwardly in my seat as I remember Wraith’s talented mouth and hands. And wonder whether I’ll ever find anyone to match his calibre in the future or if anyone else will ever accept my deficiencies in the same way.
Forcing myself to strengthen my resolve never to tie myself to any one man, I dredge up my nightmare to remind me there’s nothing else I can do.
As the final miles pass Peg and I drive on in a comfortable silence with just the radio playing a rock station but turned down low. We’re tired, and both of us just want to get back to the club. It’s dark, past midnight now, as at some of our stops we’d had to take the time to fill our hungry bellies. I feel stiff, and my missing leg is aching like a bitch, so I concentrate on the exercises Peg had told me about. Despite the fact my new prosthesis is more comfortable than the old, my stump’s started feeling sore. No, I can’t wait to get…
The loud sound of gunfire, coming out of the blue makes me jump. Peg looks in his mirror and swears loudly seconds before the SUV starts lurching to the right. He tries to fight it, but more gunshots sound and despite his best efforts the vehicle’s swinging around onto the hard shoulder throwing me hard against the seat belt. Stunned, my chest hurting, I see Wraith shoot up in front of us, gesticulating wildly. As Peg’s yanking the steering wheel with one hand desperately trying to keep an iota of control he’s grabbing his phone with the other.
“We’ve got trouble,” he says into it without introduction, “Just south of Casa Grande. Five or six bikes, firin’ at us. If we make it we’ll be comin’ in hot.”
If we make it?
I hang onto the door with all my might as the SUV lurches and bumps up over the ground at the side of the road and comes to a jarring halt. Peg jumps out, yells at me to keep my head down and slides a gun out of a hidden compartment in the central console. Before I duck, I see Wraith’s produced a weapon from somewhere on his bike and is running up to us, gun in hand and at the ready. They both start firing.
It’s at that point I realise I haven’t seen Hank. Where the fuck is he? Has he been hurt? A glance in the mirror shows me his treasured bike lying on the road behind, but no sign of the prospect. Christ, I hope he’s okay!
Shots keep being fired, ringing out loud over the sound of engines idling. Wraith and Peg exchange words which I can’t hear over the hammering of my heart and the rushing of air in and out of my lungs. My whole body’s trembling. Suddenly my door’s wrenched open, and Wraith reaches in and pulls me out.
“You’ll have to hang onto me, darlin’.” Hang on to him where? How?
It all becomes clear when he carries me to his bike, puts me on an uncomfortable flat seat on the back and in a smooth motion gets himself on in front.
“Arms around my waist. Hold fuckin’ tight.”
I can’t do this; I can’t be on a motorcycle. Not like this, and especially not in the middle of the night while strangers are firing at us. But Wraith doesn’t give me a chance to object, his engine already running, we roar off at a frighteningly fast pace. All I can do is hang on for dear life. Somehow my right foot has found the foot peg, and I tense the muscle in my other thigh knowing I can’t let my prosthesis touch the wheel. The only time I’ve been more scared was when the car ran over me.
As the firing fades into the distance, I hear the thunder of bikes chasing after us. Wraith rides like the wind, I’m hanging on to him so hard I think I might hurt him but at that moment that’s the last thing on my mind. I just don’t want to fall off! I close my eyes so I don’t have to watch the road disappearing at a sickening fast rate beneath us, worried that at any moment we might be shot, or he might lose control of the bike. Or both.
I don’t know how long it is in reality, but it feels like hours before we meet a pack of bikes coming the other way. Wraith slows, and comes to a halt beside the leader, the rest stream past us, giving chase to our pursuers who’ve made a swift about turn and are zooming off in the direction we’d come from.
“Peg’s back there―tyres shot out on the van.”
“Hank?” I recognise Drummer, the President.
Wraith shakes his head, “Think he took a bullet; he came down pretty hard. But I saw him take one of them out first.”
Drummer swears, loudly. I put my hand to my mouth. Oh no, sweet Hank. And Peg. Both of them who I now count as good friends. I start praying they’ll be okay.
“You alright, sweetheart?”
It takes me a moment to realise Drummer’s talking to me, in response I can only shake my head. I feel like I’m going to be sick and about as far from alright as I could possibly be.
After giving me an assessing look, he instructs Wraith, “Take her back to the clubhouse. Get her settled. I’ll go see what the damage is.”
As Drummer speeds off into the night, Wraith takes no time getting on his way again. This time a little bit, just a tiny smidgeon, slower.
I can’t talk to him until we get back to the compound. When he lifts me off the bike, I’m shaking in his arms. He carries me straight into the clubhouse where a couple of members have remained. I recognise Dollar and Heart. As soon as we enter, they send the sweet butts on their way. Wraith lowers me into one of the seats around a table and goes towards the bar; Dollar has already moved to his side.
“Vodka for her.” Wraith puts in his request. The treasurer already appears to have something brown and strong in a shot glass for him.
I hear them talking quietly while the drinks are prepared, punctuated by loud swearing and exclamations. But Wraith doesn’t forget me, and soon appears with my drink in hand. I’m rubbing my leg where the muscles locked from me clenching it so hard to stay on the bike. He sees, and his face twists ruefully.
“Told you I’d get you on the back of my bike. Next time I’ll sort it, so you’ll be more comfortable.”
I’m not at all sure I want there to be a next time, my heart’s still feeling like it’s going to jump out of my chest, and violent shakes keep going through me. My ears are still ringing from the gunshots and loud engine noises. But I’m alive, and I’m safe. Unlike the others.
I take a long drink, splutter at the neat vodka, and then put down my glass. Staring at the table, unable to look at anyone, I ask shakily, unable to stop trembling, “What about Hank and Peg?” I’m so worried about those we left behind.
At that moment Wraith’s phone rings, and he holds up his hand before answering me, “Talk to me,” he says simply.
“Ah huh. Thank Christ for that!”
“Fuck it.” This comment is accompanied by him slamming his fist on the table making me jump.
“Shit. Got it. I’ll wait here for you.”
“Nah, she’s okay. Fuckin’ shaken up.”
“Yeah. I’ll get Doc here.”
Then he finishes the call. Dollar, Heart and I all look up at him, expectantly. Leaning over to me he pulls me into him, and rests his chin on my head. Holding me tight. he speaks over me to the others, “Hank’s dead.” I gasp loudly, and fasten my hands in his shirt as he continues, “Peg’s took a fuckin’ hit but not before he took a couple of them out as they rode off after us.”
I can’t believe it. Hank who had such hopes of joining the MC, Hank, that lovely man who’d been so friendly to me. And Peg? He’s already been through too much. How badly is he injured? Is he going to die too? The gruff, scary sergeant at arms who’d done so much to help me come to terms with my disability. The thought that any of us
had been killed tonight is horrifying. A huge sob escapes from me, quickly followed by another as my adrenaline rush fades and everything hits me. It could have been any one of us. Or all of us.
Wraith is nodding at someone, as he smooths his hand over my hair, and Dollar gets out his phone. I can’t think of anything but the near miss we’ve all had―or that Hank had lost his life. It doesn’t seem real. Once they start I can’t stop the tears, they keep falling. My glass is refilled and put into my hand, and then I hear another, familiar voice, in the room.
“What the fuck’s happened?” Horse is on my other side, his hand on my shoulder; his fingers tighten until they’re almost digging into my skin as they explain.
“Horse, can you take her back to her room and stay with her until I get there? I need to wait for Drum.” Wraith’s voice rumbles over me.
I try to shake my head, wanting to hear the details myself when the others get back. “I want to stay here.”
“Shush, darlin’. There’s nothin’ you can do tonight. Let me find out what’s going on and I’ll come to tell you, okay? Go with Horse now. He’ll stay with you ‘til I get there. Hush now, it’ll be alright.”
It can’t be alright, Hank’s dead. Still trying to get my head round that fact, I protest again, “I need to know how Peg is. How bad is it? Will he be okay?”
“Soon as I know I’ll come tell you.” After a kiss on my brow, Wraith gently removes my hands from his shirt and eases away giving Horse room to reach down and pick me up.
Cradled in Horse’s strong arms I try once more to object, but Horse stops me, “They know what they’re doing, babe. Just let them do what needs to be done.”
“But Hank…and Peg?” I protest once more.
“Hank’s gone,” Horse tells me softly, repeating what I already know but can’t quite accept. “He’s gone. And we’ll just have to wait on news on Peg.
Chapter 19
Wraith
Throwing back another shot of Jack, I hear the main door to the clubroom loudly banging open. It interrupts my dark thoughts and, having checked who’s entering, my eyes close briefly in relief as Drummer comes in, his arm around and supporting Peg who’s at least on his feet. Doc, the ex-army medic who we pay a fucking enormous retainer to for these very circumstances, and who’d arrived only moments before, rushes over to help.
In his usual fashion, the sergeant-at-arms brushes him off.
“Church first.” Peg’s in pain but doesn’t want to delay club business.
But this time he doesn’t get his way as his president overrules him. “You’re fuckin’ bleedin’ all over the place, man. Let Doc have a look at you.”
Grumbling Peg lets himself be led off to the room we reserve for medical emergencies, but don’t, thank the fuck, often have to use. Last time it was when Slick cut his hand open doing some shit on his bike.
Drum’s eyes follow the Doc and his patient until they’re out of sight. He stands in the centre of the club room, his hands tunnelling through his hair and then his palms wipe down over his cheeks. Now his gaze, full of fury, lands. “Where’s Wheels?”
“I sent her off with Horse. The ain’t nothin’ she can add to this. Fuck, she’s a mess.”
Slowly he nods, “Wouldn’t expect her to be anythin’ else. At least you got her back here okay.” He rolls his head on his shoulders and breathes deeply, “We’ll give it a minute and see what’s going on with Peg, and then it’s church.” He glances around the room as he mentally adds up the number of bodies, and his slow nod of satisfaction shows he sees almost all the brothers are present. We’re a tight-knit community, the majority of us normally bunking down on site with only Heart, Viper and Bullet, the members with old ladies, regularly living separate. But even they’ve come from their beds tonight. The sweet butts have been sent packing. Mouse is the only one missing, but that’s as per norm. We’ll drag him out of his bat cave when we need him.
I raise my chin toward Drum, but the quick shake of dismissal makes me curb my impatience. He’ll want to think this through for himself before updating all of us at once.
By the time the prez has helped himself to a couple of shots of his top shelf whisky, Peg’s come out with Doc, the former’s arm is in a sling, and I wince knowing how much he’ll hate that. But at least he’s alive. And walking.
Mumbled conversations around the room cease as Peg stands in the middle, all brothers questioning him with their eyes. He gives a nod to Doc. “Doc sewed me up; bullet went straight through. Will just have a wing clipped for a while. Now let’s get to church.”
Doc flinches and glares a little, “Now what did I tell you, Peg? You should be restin’. You’ve lost a lot of blood.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Peg tosses him a scowl of his own, “I’ll get my head down later, got things to do now.”
“Thanks, Doc,” Drum goes over to both men, and I know he’ll realise it would be a lost cause to try to argue with his sergeant-at-arms, “We’ll get him sorted after church.” His warning stare suggests that Peg will be given space to be brought up to date, but after that will be following doctor’s orders. Then he turns to Doc again, “D’ya mind poppin’ up and taking a look at the girl, Wheels? Wraith brought her in fast and she was pretty shaken.” Then, after Doc agrees, without wasting any more time, he shouts out to the rest of us, “Right you buggers, church. Now! Let’s get this over with so Peg can get his fuckin’ head down.”
Relieved Drum was looking out for my girl―I’d have asked Doc to pay her a visit if he hadn’t―I follow my brothers into the large meeting room having shot off a quick text to Mouse summoning him in. His office is only a couple of doors along so enters almost immediately. I notice that on his way in, prez has indicated that the prospects are to join us. Unusual, but totally understandable, as one of their own has gone. The brothers all find their seats; Marsh and Spider stand at the far end of the table casting anxious glances at each other.
Without preamble, Drum gets down to the first order of business, his face bleak as he looks around the room, “Our prospect Hank gave his life for the club tonight. He’d been with us almost a year, and this vote would have come to the table shortly in any event. Now, I’m fuckin’ proposin’ we posthumously give him the patch, bury him as a full member. Let’s vote.”
There are overwhelming shouts of Aye accompanied by the sound of fists banging on the table as brothers don’t even bother to vote in turn.
Drum bangs the gavel hard on the wooden table top, “Motion carried.”
His stern face gentles as his gaze falls on Marsh and Spider. Spider’s the same age as Hank, Marsh just a couple of years older, “Your brother died a fuckin’ hero,” he tells them, his voice sombre, “He died a true Satan’s Devil.”
More thumps on the wood and a general murmuring of agreement.
Drum gives us all a moment to digest his words, then instructs, “Prospects, you’re dismissed now.” They might be called on to join the fight, but as they’ve not yet proved their loyalty to the club, club business and the decisions we’ll take here tonight are not for their ears. I watch them leave, knowing while they want to stay to hear the discussions; they understand their place and will accept being left out. It’s something we’ve all been through.
The prez waits until the door shuts behind them. Then he looks at each of us in turn before announcing, “Rock Demons.”
“Fuck it!” I slam my hand on the table. The reason he’s named the ruthless rival MC club based in Phoenix can only be that it was them responsible for killing Hank and injuring Peg tonight. I’d been too much in the thick of it all to see their cuts. The Devils and the Demons have had an uneasy peace for years, and I can’t immediately think why they would turn on us all of a sudden.
Mouse is busy tapping on his ever-present laptop. We ignore him, it’s what he always does.
Peg raises his good arm, and Drum throws a chin jerk, his way of giving him permission to speak.
“It’s my fuckin’ fault, Prez, I’m
sorry, I should’ve fuckin’ known better.”
“You fuckin’ what?” It’s not only me who throws out the question as various echoes with slightly different phrasing go round the room.
Peg’s looking downcast. “You should take my patch for this. It’s my fuckin’ job to watch out for the club. I’ve got sloppy; we should never have been using the same fuckin’ place to stop and put on our cuts.”
Slick is shaking his head, “But we’ve stopped there for years.”
“Precisely!” Peg looks white, but cheeks blaze red, “Fuck knows why they wanted us, but they knew exactly which rest area we’d be usin’. All they had to do was wait and then follow.”
“It ain’t all your fault, Peg,” Mouse interrupts, causing a hush to come over us all. “It was like lookin’ for a needle in a haystack before we got a lead, but now I know who I’m searchin’ for I can tell you that the Demons got a nice sum put into their bank account recently. Looks like they’re the ones who picked up on that fuckin’ contract for the woman. They wanted the girl.”
Talk bursts out again; Drum calls us to order, “Makes sense, a fuckin’ Phoenix chapter when she would have been traced to landin’ at Sky Harbor. And they could have spotted Dart and Slick pickin’ her up.”
I shake my head, “If they had have done they’d have been on us long before now. She’s been here nearly three fuckin’ months. How the fuck they found it out now I don’t know.”
“Did you have a tail up to Utah? VP?”
I’m already going back over everything in my mind, “I was checkin’ out for that, but no, Prez. I’m pretty fuckin’ sure we didn’t. How could someone follow us seven hundred miles and neither me nor Peg spot them? Nah, Somehow they knew enough to lie in wait until we were on our way back.”
Peg’s head is in his hands, “I shouldn’t have stopped there…”
“Brother, this ain’t on you. We’ve learned the lesson now, but ain’t had trouble with the Demons since I got in this fuckin’ chair so I’d have made the same call.”
Turning Wheels (Satan's Devils MC #1): A Blood Brothers Spin off Page 22
