by Evie Nichole
“Where the hell is she!?” a voice screamed in rage.
I leaped onto the back of Josh’s bike and wrapped my arms around him for dear life.
“Josh! You fucking traitor!” a man with dark, greyed long greasy hair shouted from the window. He started to shoot!
Josh revved the bike and darted out of the way of the gunfire as best he could. I could see sparks as the bullets churned up the concrete next to us, and in a flash, we were away into the night.
He never stopped riding, not for a couple of hours. We seemed to be crossing highways, then taking tiny country roads I had no idea existed. At one point we went off road. The night flew by me. Tears were streaming down my face as I thought about poor Henry. My friend, dead because of the bikers. I had no doubt the same men who killed my Daniel. Why!? Why couldn’t they just leave me alone!
I sobbed into Josh’s black leather jacket, the tears not absorbed, but instead rebuffed, running down his shoulder into the blackness of the night.
Finally, we stopped. Josh pulled into an old motel, the Silverstand. After getting a key, he parked his bike out of sight around the side of the building, and then joined me in our room. I just stood there, frozen, cold, angry, heartbroken, exhausted. All of the above.
He looked at me as he took his leather jacket off. “Maxine…”
“Why, Josh!? Why me!? Why did you have to come into my life!”
He rushed over to me and held me. It felt good. I was certain now that I could trust him, after all, he had helped me escape. That was another thing I didn’t understand, but in his embrace, in that moment, I just let it all out. I sobbed, and when I could cry no longer, he sat me down on the double bed in that dingy motel room, and started talking.
“I joined the Rip Bay Hornets a long time ago, when I was a kid. I met their leader, Drake. You know that I’d never really had a father to be speak of, not one that could be relied on. So, he took me under his wing. I loved him like the father I’d never had, he showed me the country. We rode together, but I wasn’t in his closest circle. He had a group of bikers, called his Night Riders. Just a handful of them. I knew they’d go off and do jobs, but I guess I was naive to think that they weren’t bad news.
“One day, Drake came to me and said, ‘I want you in the Night Riders.’ It was the proudest day of my life. Soon after, he ordered me to go on a mission, but he didn’t have to order, I’d have done anything to make him proud of me. We were to wait in the woods outside of Kelso Town.”
“Oh, God… Daniel…” I stared at Josh, sick to my stomach. He was there that night.
“You need to hear this, Maxine, for both our sakes.” Josh caressed my arm, but I pulled it away from him. I didn’t want to be touched by a man who’d killed my Daniel.
He looked hurt, but continued. “We were to wait for your car. I asked Drake why we were there, what we were doing, and he gave me an assurance that nobody would be hurt. That Daniel had stolen something from the gang, and all we were doing was getting it back.”
As Josh described that night to me from his perspective, the whole event played out in my mind, like I was there all over again.
“It was raining like I’d never known. Sheets of it. I could hardly see it was that bad. One of Drake’s men, Hendrix, he said we should abort, that it was too dangerous, but Drake demanded that we go through with it. So we waited, our headlights off. When your car appeared, we drove behind in a snake. We do that so you can’t tell how many of us there are. You can only see one headlight from the front bike. Then, when Drake gave the word, a couple of the other riders flanked your car. It all happened so fast. Drake pulled a gun… I swear I had no idea that was his plan. At the sight of it, Daniel must have lost control of the car, and you went off the edge of the road into a ravine.
“It must have been at least a 30-foot drop. Everyone stayed up top on Drake’s orders. But not me… I had to see if either of you were alive… Drake was furious with me. He grabbed something from the back of your car, I didn’t see what it was. Then, I saw you… I saw your face looking up at me...”
Josh started to tear up, his voice wavering. I realized then that I wasn’t the only one scarred by that night. He had been too, something in his voice spoke to me of pain and anguish. Guilt more than anything. I touched his hand, and held it in mine, the tears falling from our eyes.
“Maxine, when I saw you, I could see the shock. Your life had just been smashed to pieces. Daniel had died, I checked his pulse. Suddenly, I could smell something on fire. I had to get you out of there. I pulled you out as quickly as I could before the entire car went up in flames. Drake and the others rode off, and at gunpoint he forced me to join them. I left you lying by the side of the road, and as I rode at the back of the Night Riders, I managed to call an ambulance for you.
“In the days that followed, I was consumed by guilt. I did a little digging and found out that you’d made it. That made me happy, but I could never forgive myself for being part of it. I was haunted by it. Drake lost trust in me because I didn’t want any part in other missions which were violent, and so slowly he pushed me out of the Night Riders. He’s now been following me, seeing if I’m going to go to the cops about all the things I know about... That day when I fell off my bike, I was just riding, meeting you was like fate giving me a second chance. Somehow letting me get to know you, I knew that if you were getting on with your life, that somehow that would make things better, that it would alleviate some of the guilt… But it didn’t… Instead I started to fall for you...”
Josh touched my face and looked deep into my eyes, the tears rolling down his cheeks. “I am so sorry for what I’ve done to you, Maxine. What I was involved in… What happened to Daniel… Everything. I swear, I’ll do whatever I can to get you out of this mess. I’d die to protect you…”
In all of the anguish, all of the pain, I believed him. He was being sincere.
“Josh… You weren’t to know what Drake was going to do that night… You did everything you could to save me, Daniel’s death is not on your hands, but if you think that is then listen to me now: I forgive you.”
There was the release. He held me close, and neither of us cried anymore. It was as if some great weight had been lifted from both of our souls. I looked up at him. “For what it’s worth. I’m glad I met you, Josh. I…”
He didn’t need any more than that. He kissed me passionately, and in seconds we were in an entangled embrace. I sat on top of him, wrapping my legs around his waist. He unbuttoned my blouse and began to suck on my nipples. Each touch was heaven to me, each caress was happiness.
Picking me up, he lay me gently on the bed, and then undressed. He lay on top of me, and there in the night, in the aftermath of such death and destruction, we found each other. We bonded in a way I cannot even fathom. I was his, and he was mine. For the first time since Daniel’s death, I was in love, utterly and entirely.
Josh was my everything, and I most certainly was his.
In the darkness we whispered to each other. I told him about Henry, about how he’d protected me. Josh grew angry at Drake killing another man in cold blood. While I mourned my friend, my main concern was keeping us both alive. We could go to the police, but Josh said it would only be a matter of time before Drake’s associates found us. No matter what we did, if we ran, if we stayed, if we tried to let justice take its course, Josh was convinced that there was no real escape. We’d be looking over our shoulders for the rest of our lives, that was how powerful the gang and its associates were.
No, we would have to come up with a plan in the morning, but until then, on that forgotten piece of highway, in that seedy motel miles from the city, we slept; and in a strange way, for the first time in years, I felt complete lying next to my strange, exciting biker; the man who I was prepared to go to hell and back.
Chapter 16
In the morning, we called Charles O’Malley, and in a few hours he was sitting in our motel room, nervously looking through the blinds to the street
outside.
“We’re in prime Rip Bay Hornets territory here, Maxine!” he said anxiously.
“Yes, I know, Chuck, you’re in the room with one of them.” I said, laughing.
“Hi, Chuck. I’m Josh.” Josh offered his hand.
Charles took it, eyeing him suspiciously. “Hello… Josh.”
“Thanks for coming so quickly, Maxine said if there’s someone we can trust, it’s you.”
“Yes, Maxine can trust me. You, Josh, will have to earn that same pleasure!”
Josh looked at me, and I winked at him.
“Chuck,” I said. “We really need your help, we’re in a terrible situation, and Josh wants to put an end to it so we can both get on with our lives.” I took Josh’s hand and held it. “Together.”
“Oh… So it’s love then?” asked Charles.
“Yes, it is,” said Josh. “All I care about right now is helping Maxine get her life back, but if we can both do that, then all the better.”
Charles looked at us over his glasses which were once again sliding down to the end of his nose. He grinned, and then fixed his bowtie. “Lucky for you both that I am a stickler for a good romance story. Okay. I’m in!”
Josh had a plan alright, and it was going to require a team effort from all three of us. As it turned out, over his time in the Night Riders, Josh had learned a few tidbits of information about how Drake ran the gang, tidbits which could be used to bring Drake back out into the open.
Charles and I listened intently to his plan.
“Okay, Drake keeps his cards close to his chest, he always has. That’s how he runs the organization, only he knows everything which is going on, but he even he needs help. There’s a guy in the gang called Teller. He’s a poindexter…” Josh looked at Charles. “No offense, Charles.”
“None taken.”
Josh continued: “Teller doesn’t belong in the gang. Not really. He barely rides. The only reason he’s part of the Rip Bay Hornets is because he’s smart, really smart. He’s a financial whiz.”
“An accountant?” Charles scoffed. “I’m sure we can out think him.”
“He’s more than that. He deals with all of Drake’s financial transactions, keeping things ticking over, processing income and outcome…”
“So, an accountant?” Charles interrupted.
“Okay, yes, he’s kind of an accountant. But he’s been with Drake since the old days. If anyone can hit Drake where it hurts – his pocket – it’s him. Maybe we can get some leverage over him and Drake will leave us alone.”
“That’s the plan?” Charles asked.
“Yes, Chuck. It’s the best we have.”
“For now, yes. What do you need me for?”
“It’s simple, Teller won’t know you from Adam. Do you mind getting in the firing line?”
Charles looked nervous.
I watched with fascination and dread as Charles went into the bar. Maxine was several miles away in an old barn which hadn’t been used for years. She was to wait until we returned, if we returned at all. I could imagine that the wait would have been interminable, but it had to be done. This was the plan I had, the only one unfortunately, and it was a long shot.
Charles seemed like a nice guy, the sort who liked to surround himself with books and stories. On the way in his car, I had told him I wouldn’t mind being a writer one day like him, but he laughed and said that if I wanted to be poor, that was the best way to go about it. I admired him for sticking it out. The thought occurred to me that I had never really “stuck” out anywhere. That was the problem. How could you achieve anything if you didn’t hang around at least for a while?
I knew the bar where Drake’s accountant (I agreed now that that was exactly what he was), Teller, always hung around. He was a scrawny little type with a mean mouth on him. He wouldn’t have lasted one second in the Rip Bay Hornets, but he knew Drake would protect him because he was important to him. So, he was always quick with his tongue, putting the other guys down even though they were usually the ones putting their necks on the line.
From where I was hiding in the backseat, I could just about see through the windscreen to the bar across the road. If Charles was successful, he’d manage to persuade Teller that he was a representative from the Los Angeles Arrows. They were a gang notorious for amassing influence and money on the west coast, so much so that Drake was pretty paranoid that they’d try to muscle in on his rackets.
I imagined the scene playing out. Charles would walk into the bar, a musty, dirty little place. He’d ask the only bartender to speak with Teller. At first, the bartender would say no, that was until Charles gave him the code word – Bronco. That meant it was gang business, and he better pay attention.
Teller would come out from a back room, his grubby white shirt tucked into a pair of trousers, suspenders holding everything together, glasses with flecks of congealed filth. Being his usual genial self, Teller would be rude, telling Charles that he was interrupting his important work. Teller’s important work always consisted of paying a hooker to do whatever he wanted in the back room.
Charles would then start prodding with pieces of information. He’d offer up that a biker gang was looking to go into business with the Hornets. That they had a shipment of drugs coming in over the Mexican border, but since Drake’s associates had the connections to make sure such a shipment made it across safely, that they were willing to split profits 80/20 with Drake.
That’s when the negotiations would start. Teller, despite his appearance, actually cared about one thing: pride. He always needed to get something out of negotiations which he could look on as a victory. I’d instructed Charles to negotiate down to a 60/40 split for this phantom shipment, but to not go any less. If he did, then Teller might start to suspect that things were too good to be true.
I waited. And waited, squinting through the bright sun which was making the backseat of Charles’s car uncomfortably hot. There’d been no movement in or out of the bar for twenty minutes. I started to get edgy, thinking that they were onto Charles, but the only way they would be is if the either sense he was lying, or they recognized him from the back cover of his biker book. Maxine had quietly told me we didn’t have to worry about that second possibility.
Then I started to suspect that he really had been made. That any minute now Drake’s men would come out of the bar and try to snatch me from the backseat. Peering over the driver’s seat I breathed a sigh of relief. Thanks, Charles. He’d left the key in the ignition. If I saw anyone coming out towards me other than Charles and Teller, I’d drive off. Sorry, Chuck, Maxine has to come first.
The door to the bar finally opened, and stepping out into the sun were Charles and Teller.
It worked, so far so good…
I told Charles to leave the identity of his gang until Teller had shown interest. That way he’d look like he was protecting his clients, not revealing them until Teller showed that he was a serious potential partner. Once Charles told Teller that he was working on behalf of the Los Angeles Arrows, then Teller would get really excited. All he wanted to do was impress Drake, a bit like me a few years earlier, but while I had the excuse of being a teenager and then in my early twenties before I saw through Drake’s act, Teller was at least in his late 50s. He’d jump at the chance of getting Drake a deal that he so sorely desired. Hopefully so much that he’d agree to get in the car with Charles to drive an hour to meet one of the Los Angeles Arrows’ higher ups, who was in town to make sure negotiations went smoothly.
Charles and Teller started to walk across the street, but Charles looked sheet white. Something’s wrong. I didn’t know if they’d rumbled who he was. Looking in the wing mirror I made sure that no one was sneaking up behind the car to catch me. The coast seemed clear, but Charles was clearly worried.
Then I realized what the issue was. It wasn’t just Teller and Charles, a third man joined them as they cross the street. He was a big, burly skinhead, emerging from the bar and quickly catching up to th
em. I recognized him vaguely, probably some sort of bodyguard. Teller wasn’t as eager as I’d thought he’d be, he obviously wanted some back up. Maybe he sense something was up, maybe he was just being careful; either way, I had to think quick.
The plan had been that Teller would get in the car, sit in the passenger seat up front, and then I would cover his mouth from behind with a chloroform cloth. He’d pass out, we’d drive off to the barn, and that’s where we’d get the information out of him we’d need to hurt Drake in the pocket. Hopefully getting something good that we could blackmail him with, in return for letting Maxine and I out of the firing line.
Now that plan was looking unlikely. They were getting near. I had to think! As soon as the bodyguard looked in the car he’d see me and it would be all over for me and Charles. I stayed low, knowing that I only had one second to get out of this mess. The bodyguard did as I expected. He walked to the back and looked through one of the side windows. It was so bright out he struggled to see, so he cupped his hands over his eyes. He must have only seen me for the briefest of moments.
I kicked the door open, which hit the bodyguard in the face.
“Don’t let Teller get away!” I shouted at Charles.
The bodyguard recovered from his daze and swung at me. I ducked, and then kicked at his knee as hard as I could. Something snapped, and the big, lumbering bodyguard fell to the ground screaming holding his leg.
Teller by this point had started to run back to the bar. If he got in there, the bartender would have a gun and we’d be finished. He was too far in front of me to catch him, but then something very surprising happened. Good old Charles O’Malley intervened. He stuck his foot out and swiped at Teller’s legs as he ran. Teller tripped, and his momentum brought him crashing to the ground.
I caught up, holding a cloth and bottle of chloroform. Teller tried to struggle, but as soon as the cloth went over his mouth, it was good night sweetheart. We quickly dragged his body to the car, placed him the back sitting up so he looked like he was just asleep for the ride rather than properly unconscious, and we drove away. I told Charles not to speed, not to draw attention, and to my surprise he was as cool as he needed to be, albeit with his cheeks beaming red and rosy.
