by Sara Fawkes
Ducking low, I cowered against the van, hoping the large wheel would shield me better. Gravel crunched from nearby then two dark shapes skidded around the corner. In their hands were guns, and they were shooting back toward the clubhouse.
They saw me at the same time I saw them, and when I tried to run one of them reached out and grabbed me. I screamed again, only to have it cut off by a hand clamping over my mouth. A gun was shoved in my face and I stopped fighting, trying not to freak out.
“Fuck, I can’t get to the bikes!”
“Screw the bikes, get inside this van and get us out of here!”
I was dragged backwards, one hand firmly around my throat, as my attacker fired off several shots toward the clubhouse. His hand was cutting off my supply of air, and I clawed at his fingers desperately.
The barrel of a gun butted hard up against the side of my head. “Fucking stop, or I’ll put a bullet through your skull too.”
I stopped my struggling, trying to focus on breathing through my restricted airways. People were shooting at us, and I heard several bullets ping off the van. “C’mon,” yelled the man holding me, his voice panicky, “get this damned thing started!”
The van chugged one, twice, then the engine turned over. The man holding me yanked open the sliding door and shoved me inside, following swiftly after me. “Drive, goddammit!”
They barely got the door shut when we peeled out of there, leaving the clubhouse behind. I stayed still and quiet, hoping they’d forget all about me. The back of the van was empty of any seats; tools littered the ground and small toolboxes rattled from the sides. It looked like a rolling mechanic shop, and I had a feeling I knew who it belonged to.
“Why did you bring her, man?” the driver hollered back, swerving around the road. I couldn’t see outside through any windows but I knew we were going way too fast for the speed limit.
“Leverage, a hostage, whatever. They might think twice about shooting her.”
I cowered in the corner, hanging onto the toolboxes beside me. Something dug into my hip and, reaching around, I felt a large wrench right below me. I left it alone for the moment, content with knowing it was there if I needed it.
A drone filled the air, getting steadily louder, and the driver cursed in a panicked voice. “They’re following us!”
I recognized the sound of several motorcycles pulling up around us, and sobbed in relief. The other two men were freaking out, and I held on as they began swerving along the road. The van listed from side to side, too tall and top heavy for some of their maneuvers. I just held on and prayed I might get out of this alive.
There was another pop, louder than the firecrackers earlier. “Shit, I lost a tire,” the driver hollered.
“Keep driving, you son of a bitch!”
I held on for dear life as the weaving grew more erratic. The driver glanced back and fixated on me. “What if they’re after us for her?”
“What of it?”
“Throw her out!”
No! I clung madly to the toolboxes as the man beside me crawled to the rear of the van and opened the doors. They swung out sideways, flapping in the wind. Behind us, I saw the headlights of several motorcycles. The gunman fired toward them and the lights swerved, then he crab walked back toward me and grabbed my ankle.
I grabbed onto the toolbox with both hands and kicked back at him with my free foot, but he wouldn’t let go. The metal dug into my hands painfully but I didn’t care. I recognized this stretch of highway as I took it often to go see my grandmother in Folsom. I also knew that I would never survive being thrown out of a moving van at these speeds.
He levered up his gun and I kicked at his hand, swinging it wide. His face screwed up in rage as he moved the gun toward me again, then something exploded from his chest. Confused lit his features and he staggered back, releasing my foot. Then the van swerved again and he lost his footing, falling backwards toward rear and somersaulting out of the doors.
I sobbed and looked away, but not before I saw the headlights of a truck directly behind us bob in the road. One down.
The driver was panicking, yelling curses in several different languages as he tried to maintain control of the vehicle. I just hung on for dear life to those toolboxes as several more shots rang out. The van swerved sharply, first to the left then hard right. I saw the landscape veer from the open back of the van, then the dark sky as we jumped the embankment.
We flew through the air a short ways and landed hard, jarring the toolbox out of my grip. I was slammed forward against the back of the passenger seat, then crumpled to the side as the van rolled over. We continued sliding for a while before stopping, then silence fell. I grabbed my head, feeling woozy, as behind me the driver groaned.
One of the van doors had shut during the crash, but the other one was open. We were lying on our side, nose-down on the embankment As I looked through the opening I saw several figures hurrying down toward us, and tried to climb up and out. It was difficult to keep my eyes focused however and I subsided just as others reached our location.
Someone jumped in from the back of the van and slid down toward me, then arms wrapped around my shoulders. “I got you,” Ash said softly, pulling me close.
I broke down sobbing, clinging to his solid form. All the pent up fear and helplessness was released in a rush of tears that I couldn’t control. Ash smoothed his hands over my hair, gathering me in his arms and onto his lap. I clung to him, unable to stop the torrent of tears.
“I’ve got you,” he repeated as other shapes appeared around us.
“She all right?”
Ash nodded. “Help me get her out of here.”
Behind us, I heard the driver moan again, and I tensed as Ash turned to look at the man. The driver must have seen his death in Ash’s expression because he immediately started jabbing at his seatbelt buckle. “Shit, shit, shit,” he whined in a high, panicky voice.
I didn’t even notice the gun in Ash’s hand until he raised it toward the wide-eyed driver. Hiding my head in his chest couldn’t keep out the sound as two shots rang out, and the hysterics of my other assailant were silenced forever. Ash wrapped his arms around me again and I trembled, realizing the raw power this man had. More hands pulled at my arms and I cried out, clinging to Ash. He was safe; he would protect me.
He placed a kiss on the top of my head. “Let them help you,” he murmured, and I turned to recognize Hoop and Magnus at the entrance. “Did you take care of everything?”
“Yeah I took off the plates, but we gotta get out of here.”
I swallowed and stood up against the back of the passenger seat, using the toolboxes to steady myself. They grabbed a hand each and lifted me easily out of the van, and Ash followed. I’d barely gotten to my feet when Ash swept me up into his arms, holding me close. He laid another kiss on my temple, and I could feel him trembling. “God, baby, I’m so sorry.”
I laid my head on his shoulder as he walked us up the embankment. A dozen or so motorcycles lined the side of the highway, and as we ascended they started pulling out onto the highway. Ash finally put me back on the ground, but kept his arms around me as a shield. “Can you ride?” he murmured.
Swallowing hard, I nodded, and gingerly secured the helmet on my head. By the time I threw my leg over the motorcycle, there was only us and two other bikes. Something bright caught my eyes, and I looked down the embankment to see fire alight within the van. It blazed up quickly as we all took off together, and I clung to Ash as best I could. My head was feeling sluggish but I kept my eyes open and forced myself to keep awake.
The ride back seemed to take forever, but we all arrived back at the clubhouse. Ash parked us beside the other bikes this time, and hanging my helmet on his mirror he picked me up in his arms again. I burrowed my head in the crook of his neck as we passed through a large group of people. The angry voice rose and faded as he kept going, taking the stairs to the upper levels.
“What the hell, this is my room.”
&nbs
p; I recognized the wheedling sound of Sunny’s voice, and felt Ash tense beneath me. “Go downstairs and don’t come down until I say you can.”
“But this is my room…”
“Get out!”
Sunny quickly exited the room, and I saw the glare she gave us as she disappeared around the door frame. I couldn’t dredge up anything inside me to care however; I felt drained, as if someone had pulled the tap on all my emotions. Still, when Ash approached one of the beds, I fidgeted. “I don’t want to sleep in her bed.” The thought of what had been done here, or who, gave me the willies.
“The beds up here are designed for any of the club members, not just Sunny. They’re kept clean, in case any of us need a place to crash.”
I wasn’t up for any debate on whose was what, so didn't protest when he laid me down on the bed at the far side of the room. When he went to step back, I held tight to his hand, pulling him up short. Swallowing, I whispered, “Can you please…?”
He seemed to understand what I couldn’t ask because he sat down on the bed, and then stretched out beside me. The bed he’d chosen was a twin and cozy to begin with, but I didn’t care as he wrapped me into his arms. I bit my lip, hugging his arms tight against me as he buried his face in my hair.
“I’m sorry I didn’t protect you,” he murmured, his voice ragged. “I left you alone and let them take you.”
I didn’t reply to that, just tugged him around me. The sleepiness I’d been fighting since I’d hit my head surrounded me, and this time I embraced it. The soothing tones of Ash’s voice enveloped me, lulling me into a feeling of security.
Whatever he said, whatever happened, I’d never felt more safe than when I was in his arms. Memories of him shooting the driver rose and fell in my mind but I blocked them out, snuggling into the mattress and cheap comforter until darkness finally took me.
Chapter Twelve
Ash
Road Rash met Ash at the bottom of the stairs. “How is she?”
“As well as can be expected. Any word on Rooster?”
“It’s not looking good. Magnus called a meeting, they’re waiting for you.”
Ash’s brows drew down into a frown. Why would the VP call a meeting without the President in attendance? “Where’s Damian?”
“On his way from the hospital, he should be here soon.”
It bothered Ash that Magnus had taken it on himself to call a meeting without the chapter President in attendance, but it wasn’t his job to question executive decisions. He followed Road Rash into the back room where already there was arguing. To his astonishment, Magnus was sitting in his father’s seat at the head of the table.
His hands curled into fists. Damian and Magnus had been best friends during the war, fighting side by side. The recent bad blood between the two men however was causing tension within the club. This wasn’t the first time Magnus had tried to assert control, but sitting in the seat was a blatant disrespect to the current leader.
“We can’t talk war with the Jackals until we know more for sure.”
“Fuck being sure, I know it’s them.”
“They had no colors, and nobody’s recognized them yet.”
Eddie, the club’s Road Captain who was standing along the wall, waved his phone in the air. “I put in a call to a contact that can get us IDs. Just waiting for a reply.”
“As soon as we know anything for sure, we can…”
Magnus broke off as Damian entered the room, and everyone stood to their feet out of respect. The club President looked tired, but his gaze was sharp as he surveyed the men in the room. “Did I interrupt anything?” he asked in a low voice.
Nobody spoke for a moment as the President and VP stared one another down. Ash had known there was a power struggle there, and had done his best to keep out from between it. Something told him however that the time would soon come that he wouldn’t have a choice but to pick sides.
Road Rash broke the silence. “How’s Rooster?”
Damian’s lips pursed, and Ash knew what had happened before he spoke from his father’s faint shoulder slump. “He didn’t make it.”
Silence reigned in the room except for whispered curses along the wall. Neither Damian nor Magnus seemed inclined to be the first to look away. Finally, the VP stepped out from behind the table, giving Damian back his place. The President walked over, still staring after Magnus with a stony expression, and slowly sat down. He folded his hands deliberately on the table, then looked at each man in the room. “What we need right now is proof.”
Protests filled the room at his words, but when he raised a hand the voices died down. “I refuse to get into a war with the Jackals unless I know for certain they attacked us.”
Magnus’ lip curled but he remained quiet. It was Road Rash who spoke up. “We had Ash here, your son, stabbed by two bikers. Now Rooster is dead. Are you really going to let that go unavenged?”
Damian slammed his fists on the table. “I’m not saying I don’t want justice,” he bit out. “Rooster was as much my friend as yours.” He turned to Ash. “Did you see any colors or markers that might identify who got you?”
He’d been asked this question several times in the last day or two, but Ash’s answer was the same. “No.”
“Were the men tonight the same ones who stabbed you?”
Ash wished he had a better answer. “I don’t know.”
“Did any of you lot see what patches the men who shot Rooster wore tonight?” Damian looked around the room. “Because if they weren’t flying their colors, we don’t know anything.” He tugged at his mustache, deep in thought. “We don’t have any proof they were Jackals, and until that time…”
A cellphone rang, and Eddie pushed off the wall. He glanced at the President, who nodded, then he stepped out of the meeting room into the common area.
“What we need to do,” Magnus said, “is to expand our ranks.”
“And what do you propose we do there?” Damian said in a clipped voice.
“Drop the military requirement for membership.”
Dead silence met his statement. Magnus let the silence stretch for a while, seeming to enjoy the tension, before speaking again. “I know at least a dozen good men who would be perfect for…”
“No.”
The VP’s face grew thunderous, but Damian shook his head. “We’re not changing the dynamic of this club just to raise an army,” he said, his voice final.
“We need new blood,” Magnus argued. “This fucking club is stagnating.
“If you don’t like it here,” the President said in an even voice, “you can always leave.”
“I’m loyal to the club first,” Magnus growled, glaring at the VP. “If you opened your fucking eyes, you’d see exactly what’s going on. You’re taking all the pitiful rejects, folks like Rancid, and passing up people who could actually be useful to this club.”
“Damian, he’s right,” Road Rash broke in as Damian jumped to his feet. The older man withstood his President’s glare. “We need to expand if we’re going to survive. We’ve got no new blood coming in, and I’ve known good people who I had to turn away because of no military background.”
The President’s face was thunderous, but whatever he was going to say was cut off when Eddie came into the room. The Captain’s expression was on fire, and everyone knew the answer before he spoke. “Both are confirmed as linked to the Jackals. One was a member of the Barstow chapter, but the other was a local prospect. There’s a good chance that tonight’s hit was to be his initiation into the club.”
Damian slammed his fist on the table while Magnus just sat back in his chair as if case closed. There was no satisfaction on his face however as his one word question reverberated around the room. “War?”
Grumbling started around the room then, but Ash ignored everyone else, focusing instead on his father. There was no alternative now, not anymore. Diplomacy was what the Savages President preferred, but diplomacy wouldn’t bring back Rooster. Next door in the
shop beside the clubhouse sat the dead man’s bike, patiently waiting for its owner to come back and take it out. Ash’s heart ached for the loss, but it also burned for vengeance.
He saw the same desire for justice on the faces of most in the room, including his father’s. The older biker drew himself up. “From this moment,” he said in a voice that carried, “we are at war with the Jackals.”
Whoops and war cries echoed through the room, but surprisingly not from Magnus. “And the subject of doing away with the military membership requirement?”
Some of the fire died in Damian’s eyes. “We put it to a vote,” he said. “All in favor of keeping with the current way of things, raise your hand.”
Ash raised his hand, as did Damian and Eddie. Magnus stared at Ash, then at Eddie, who looked nervous at the perusal but kept his hand aloft.
“In favor of doing away with the military requirement in membership?”
The rest. An overwhelming majority, over a two-thirds vote. Damian looked defeated, but he still nodded. “The military requirement for membership is hereby abolished. Be careful who you bring by, but membership is now open.”
Ash saw the triumph on Magnus’ face, but he hid it quickly. Ash’s eyes narrowed. He’d have to talk to his father about the VP and the disrespect he was showing. Magnus might be one of his father’s oldest friends, but something had soured between the two men and it was tainting the club.
“Dismissed. Ash, hold back for a moment.”
Ash watched as the rest of the room emptied out. Eddie shut the doors behind him, leaving Ash alone. Magnus hadn’t moved and Damian wasn’t calling him out on it, so apparently he was in on this too. Both men stared at Ash, who stood at attention like he would with any military officer.
“Ash, I’m appointing you the Savage’s Warlord.”
The air froze in Ash’s lungs, but he didn’t so much as twitch. Damian and Magnus exchanged glances. “Are you up for this?”
Ash nodded as Magnus frowned. “You’re setting your son up to lead us into war,” he said, studying Ash. Any earlier bitterness was gone, he was once again the club VP. “Some of the boys might think you’re showing favoritism here.”
