Road Refugees (A Motorcycle Club Romance)

by Layla Wolfe

  “You should’ve seen her, buddy,” I ranted. “Long, long, and I mean long caramel hair, hair you just know smells like lavender soap.”

  “Wow, you’re really smitten, pal. She must be a gash from our rivals, the Friends of Distinction. How long since you been laid?”

  Though it was none of his fucking business, I had to think about that one. I breathed the aromatic smoke in and out through my nostrils. I believed I’d drunkenly fucked some chick who’d followed me home from the liquor store. That was probably it. Since drinking heavily, it’d been cleaner than Doris Day’s greatest hits, sex-wise. I would never make a pass at a fellow soldier in arms, and some women like Eloise did come to my condo. Some shitbirds did that. Not me.

  “Awhile,” I croaked, exhaling more of the delicious herb. Linus sat obediently, cocking his head this way and that, ducking to avoid smoke. “Maybe I’ll join Crybaby up at that weed farm. I’ve always wanted to be a farmer, work with my hands.”

  “Magic mushrooms are where it’s at,” wheezed Navarro. “Everyone’s got their fingers in the weed till nowadays, but psilocybin’s hard to find.”

  “Fungi?” I screwed up my face. “Sounds kind of…dangerous.”

  Navarro became animated. “Oh, it’s awesome! You do feel kind of terrified, but also elated.”

  “Are you talking about growing, or taking?”

  “Both, man! They force you to face your fears, which is incredibly cathartic! Government’s been talking about studying them to cure depression.”

  At that, I perked up. “Seriously? They could be looking for a supplier?”

  “Exactly. That, or you service the local one percenter crowd.”

  I shrugged. Why not? Why the hell not?

  Navarro handed me the water pipe, but I was done. I waved it away. He said, “Doing shrooms makes you realize how you’re failing in life. What you need to do better.”

  I nodded. “Nothing wrong with that.” Then I thought. Maybe there was something wrong with that. “But it’s still illegal federally?”

  Navarro squeaked, holding in his smoke. “Yeah. Illegal Schedule 1. But cops have better things to do with their time.”

  Would I, a highly decorated military veteran, stoop to growing things people could “trip” on? Why the fuck not? So many things were FUBAR already, and if Navarro was right, maybe it could help depression. I’d first have to get ahold of some to try it out myself. “Where can you get them?”

  “There used to be a guy around here. I know Crybaby knows someone who grows them in his apartment. Ask him.”

  Growing mushrooms inside your apartment? No, thanks. What would you say to guests? “Don’t go in that room. There are fungal spores that can invade your lungs, start growing mushrooms inside your nose”? Nobody would come to visit you. And I wanted a new life as a sociable, sober being.

  “Fungus is pretty cool,” croaked Navarro.

  I was about to disagree somewhat when a tumult arose on the sidewalk. A woman spoke in a high, maybe terrified tone. It was her! But this time she was being dragged along reluctantly by yet another fender fluff, a powerful woman in a black leather jacket with wavy hair down to her butt. I’d be afraid of her. And it seemed as though my love was, too.

  “That’s her, Navarro,” I said in a stage whisper, and I nearly sparked the pavement with my boots getting up to the building’s corner, Navarro staggering behind me. At my side, Linus peeked around the corner tentatively.

  My love cried something about a phone. “Why can’t you bring the phone out here?” I thought she screeched.

  Now another lamb popped out of a store entrance and grabbed my love’s sleeve. She was not going willingly, that was obvious. And what would two women be doing to one another?

  The bigger biker gal shoved my woman into the doorway, and I made my move. The scene around me became kinetically charged, as though I flowed through a Van Gogh painting, all color and movement. I’d sprinted halfway up the distance between us before I realized I must’ve torn Navarro’s .45 Ruger from the waistband of his jeans. My love let out a shattering scream. I pulled back the slide to check the chamber. Loaded.

  “Get your hands off her!” I roared, Linus galloping alongside me. I’d dropped the leash, but he followed me anyway.

  I admit I wasn’t Roosevelt stampeding with his Rough Riders up San Juan Hill, with my gimpy leg and my faithful, fluffy Goldendoodle at my side. But it was enough to shock the two deceitful women into action—the wrong way, as it turned out. They stepped up their kidnapping, shoving my angel into the darkened storefront. Her scream echoed as though she was entering a frightening amusement park ride.

  I’m not trying to sound big when I say I didn’t hesitate. I had no idea what faced me inside. But I kicked open those wooden swinging doors and entered in a strong Weaver stance, one hand palming the other in a powerful grip.

  “Let her go, you twats!” I shouted.

  Instantly, my gal wobbled off from the two biker chicks. I sidestepped over to cover her, but as the two lambs fell away toward the other wall of the wood-paneled room, two men stepped out of the shadows.

  And one was armed. Wearing a leather cut of the Friends of Distinction.

  FUBAR.

  “She’s not your girl, you fucking Bare Boner.”

  I squinted to view him better. He held the Glock 19 gangsta-style in the manner I’d always scorned. Although it looked cool, it made it harder to line up the sights and manage the recoil, just spraying and praying. I must’ve scoffed, because his squinched-up, puffy face took offense.

  “Leave our turf,” he growled from a tight mouth. “This is our business, not yours.”

  I nodded toward my woman. “Not without her. Lady. Take the dog and leave this room. Linus, out.” Linus pogoed around off-leash like he was at a punk club. I needed to protect him, too. It was going to be an epic Mexican standoff.

  My lady whimpered behind me as she followed my orders, my dog obediently showing her the way out. Now all I had to do was back out slowly toward the door, not letting my arm down a fraction of an inch, and—

  “You shit for brains,” snapped the big girl. I darted my eyes to the left in time to see her whip out a piece from inside her own leather jacket. She gripped it in an Isosceles stance, as though she’d trained at a police academy. “We’re fed up letting you infringe on our turf.”

  I scoffed again. “It was our turf first.” I was obviously no Bare Boner, but I knew Flagstaff was their home turf. “This is our power base, fucktards. You’ve been shitting on our campfire for a long time. We draw the line when it comes to abusing our lambs.”

  It was intriguing that no one denied the woman belonged to us. I reached out behind me blindly with one hand to get the door and make a safe exit. I had faith the Friends of Distinction didn’t want to risk the exposure involved with burying a rival in a downtown store.

  Just then, as everyone shot daggers into each other with their eyes, the door behind me slammed open. Astonished, I jumped to one side as Navarro, Fred Birdseye, and a guy I’d never seen barged in, guns blazing. And I mean they were blazing, all in animated technicolor, like a western shootout, rounds ricocheting and thudding everywhere.

  The Friend with the scarred head went down, limbs flailing. The unarmed girl ran for the back of the room. The unknown Boner shouted, “This is our beef. You outsider, bug out!”

  I guessed that was me, and as a round blasted the support beam next to me, I took his orders. The bright flashes and loud cracking reports of firearms all served to bring me back to a combat zone. I knew I couldn’t take that for long. I squatted low to present a more difficult target and said, “I’m taking the girl to be safe, put some distance here.”

  “This is our blood feud,” shouted Birdseye, squeezing off another round. “Get on out!”

  So I did.

  Chapter Seven

  Heaven

  I slithered outside with the kindly Goldendoodle. Orchid came my way, hands out as if to grab me again.
Sucking in air, I flinched. I was tired of being grabbed. I was there to rebuild my ruined life and calm my raging brain. None of this was helping toward that end, and I picked up the leash the Golden dragged on the ground. When I bent over, he licked my face as if to reassure me.

  “Heaven, Heaven,” cried Orchid. “Where’d you go? Someone said Kelsey sent for you with a bullshit message she had your brother on the phone.”

  “That’s it all right,” I snapped. I could be forgiven if I was a little irritable. “Then some Bare Boner saved my life. Don’t believe me? That’s what happened. Orchid, they have guns, and they’re about to have a shootout in there, and don’t you dare go in and confront—”

  “Oh, I’m not, believe you me. In fact, let’s get the fuck out of here. I don’t want to be anywhere near that shit.”

  As she strong-armed me down the street in the direction of the lamb’s bar, I resisted. “Who was that man?”

  “What man?”

  “A man with dark hair tried to save me from the Friends of Distinction. Orchid, they were going to rape me or worse! That scrotum guy was inside, everyone was armed—”

  “Knock it off.”

  A curly-haired woman like an Irish heroine came charging up the street and tried to extract me from Orchid’s grip. Her jaw was set so ferociously, my arm easily came away like a water blister from Orchid’s knuckles. Now what?

  “I heard about this shit,” said the woman, “and you’re coming with me.”

  Orchid jammed her hands onto her hips. “Keep your nose to yourself, Bee. She’s with us.”

  I was crushed against the woman’s bosom, and she smelled like jasmine, earthy somehow. “Are you with the Boners?” I asked. “I need to get to my brother at A Joint System in Pure and Easy.”

  “I knew it!” Bee shrieked, rattling me a little like a bobblehead. “She’s one of us, and you cuntesses are stirring up shit as usual, all up in our face.”

  The first shot from inside the store was fired, and everyone who’d gathered around sort of flinched and crouched down toward the sidewalk. Even the Goldendoodle froze in position like a surprised lizard. Bee wrapped an arm around my shoulders protectively, and I knew she would’ve stood between me and a bullet.

  I shivered like a tortured child in a cold cradle. “Okay, Bee, I’ll go with you.”

  “Good. My ride is at my nursery just on the outskirts—”

  Bam! The swinging doors of that awful hellhole swung out as though kicked, and my black-haired hero raced out. In my terror, I had a split second to admire how handsome he was. Although he seemed to have a homemade haircut, thick black hair jagged below his ears, and a moustache made for a country and western bar, he exuded toughness. His jaw was set and his dark eyes flashed, and although he had a gun in his hand, I wasn’t afraid.

  I thought he was heading for his dog, leash still in my hand. But he was coming for me.

  And this time I didn’t mind being manhandled. There was safety in his touch.

  He told Bee, “The Bare Bones have ordered me to take her to safety.” He looked me in the eyes and held out a palm. “Come, miss. There isn’t much time.”

  I took his hand without a doubt. Was it my imagination or was there a spark of magic in his eyes?

  Bee agreed. “You guys need to rabbit. Sax and I live not far. I’ll text you the address. You can go to Pure and Easy tomorrow.”

  To my surprise, Orchid stepped up to the plate. “I’ve got her phone number. Her new cell is in her purse.”

  Again, the wooden doors banged open. Three men in black leather Bare Bones cuts came bursting out, one of them still shooting into the room. No bullets came from the Friends, so I assumed they’d all been dispatched in some way.

  “Kiss the dark side of my ass!” yelled the Boner who had shot, nearly bowling over Bee.

  “This guy’s taking her, Funkhauser,” she yelled.

  “Good!” Funkhauser shouted. “She’s ours!”

  “Navarro, take your iron,” the dark-haired hero said.

  “Keep it,” said Navarro. “You might need it.”

  The hero took the leash from my hand and led us away from the action. He seemed unperturbed by what had just happened, as though he was somehow used to it. He smiled at me crookedly while shoving his gun into his waistband, like the bikers did. “I’m Townshend,” he said. “Town for short.”

  Town.

  Town spelled life.

  I gasped with relief. “I’m Heaven. Yes, that’s my name. I’m a Morbot.”

  He chuckled. I noticed he limped a little. “A Morbot? Good for you. So you live up in Utah?”

  It was kind of funny, the calm way we suddenly headed away from danger. The dog even pranced as a police car pulled up to the storefront behind us. Like in a procedural TV show, two cops leaped out, guns at the ready, but there was no one to shoot at. Everyone had dispersed. They pivoted around in frustration as onlookers fled.

  “No,” I admitted. “I’m running from the compound. I’m going to Pure and Easy to find my brother, Sock Monkey. He works at a marijuana dispensary there.” I remembered Lytton Driving Hawk had said Sock Monkey would call my phone. I hadn’t heard it ring. Maybe Orchid hadn’t set it up properly, but at the moment I didn’t feel like checking. Town made me feel safe, and no other man had ever done that. Most men, in fact, had made me feel threatened, and I knew there was never anywhere to run.

  I asked, “You’re not a Bare Boner? You don’t wear the cut.”

  “No, I’m not,” he said, almost wistfully. “I’m just a former military Joe, going down to P and E to find my old brother in arms.”

  I slid my hand into the crook of his elbow, old-timey style. Under the cuff of a plain white T-shirt, he’d had some ink drawn on his bicep. It appeared to be a WWII gal twined around a beribboned anchor, entitled “Stormy Loves.” I may have sashayed a bit, for the first time missing my Victorian hat with all the frills and bows. Town made me feel—dare I say it—feminine. That had never been a good thing before. “Then I’m not taking you out of your way.”

  “Not at all.”

  “But what about your doggie? What’s his name?”

  “Linus. You’ll see.”

  Town even bowed a little at an alley corner to let me know it was safe to venture in. When I peeked, what should be standing there but a muscular Harley with an adorable sidecar! A lamp high on the brick wall illuminated it as though it were the Batmobile, all gleaming chrome and liquid black.

  I gasped. “Are you kidding? Linus rides in that?”

  He jerked his crooked jaw. “I’ll show you. Linus, up.”

  Removing his helmet from the sidecar, with a motion of his hand he had Linus leaping to obey. The dog jumped fluidly over the edge, sat himself on the seat, and waited for something.

  “Oh!” I cried, when Town moved to belt Linus in.

  He said, “During the day he wears goggles, because going seventy isn’t good for their eyes. Bugs and all. But at night, he couldn’t see with goggles, so I don’t. Dogs get stressed if they can’t see the scenery. That’s why they stick their faces out the window.”

  “Is he a service dog? He doesn’t have a vest.”

  Town came so close I was enveloped in his personal scent. Dried sweat, wind, pine trees, and something I couldn’t put my finger on. Was it . . . pain? I knew when I was in pain, I exuded a hormone that warned people off. Too bad it didn’t work for the insensate. Orson’s higher feelings would’ve made a great nail file.

  “He’s a companion dog,” Town said in his intense, rich voice. “He helps me, but I help him too.”

  I scissored my fingers through the tufts of silken curls on Linus’ head. “He’s adorable. I left my dog behind in Cornucopia. I love dogs.”

  Town chuckled. “Well, that’s fortunate, because you’re going to be riding with mine. Here.” He handed me the helmet. I looked at it as though it was a cottonmouth snake, turning it around to find the fangs. He instantly sensed this and helped me out. “Your ha
ir’s already up, so this is all you need to do . . . see?”

  My voice echoed inside the contraption. “If only I could see.”

  “That’s okay,” Town said, in that tone that made me feel safe. “We’ll get down to Bee and Sax’s place in Kachina Village. Let’s just pull a dustoff from Flag and get you into the safe zone.”

  He stuffed my gigantic purse into the saddlebag. I spotted a walking cane in there. Then he showed me how to ride “one up,” sitting on the saddle behind him. There wasn’t a specific seat for a passenger, so when he straddled it, I had to wrap my thighs around his. He turned the key and the motor hummed like a vibrator. I’d had one of those once, but Orson tossed it when he discovered it.

  We glided down the street away from the scene of so much tumult. In Town’s rearview mirror, the police car lights flashed like disco strobes, but they got smaller and smaller as we drove. Town had donned a brown leather jacket but not zipped it, so the heat from his taut chest warmed my hands.

  I wondered if he’d be wanted for any murders inside that empty saloon. I remembered he’d come bursting out before the gunfire started—although he had someone else’s gun in his hand, now in his saddlebag. I felt dangerous, sharp, more alert than ever. I realized it was the excitement of the ride, being that close to Town, a mysterious dark stranger who seemed, for once, to be a good guy.

  That, as they say, was the beginning of the rest of my life.

  And Town meant life.

  Chapter Eight

  Town

  To have a shapely woman’s arms wrapped around my torso again! I never thought the day would come. Until Linus, I hadn’t touched another living thing in years.

  We easily cleaved the forest of piñon pine and cypress. I didn’t want to show off or take risks, but I could feel her smiling back there, when I passed slower-moving cars. I was disappointed when we pulled up at Sax’s cabin in the woods. The angel named Heaven had her arms so tightly around me her boobs were smashed to my back. This tingling, squishy feeling along with the heat from her thighs wrapped around mine combined to stiffen my cock, and I wouldn’t have changed it for anything.