Riding For Her

by Adair Rymer

  “All I have to do is nothing, man. You heard Miles. When I get back to the club, I'll get everything I wanted.” The words rang out hollow. Cowardly.

  Could I really let my friend die for nothing?

  Robbie's watch sat heavily in my pocket. Like my cut and colors, it wasn't the leather or metal materials that was the burden. It was the weight of the responsibility that came with it. Symbols and ideals could make a man, or crush him.

  Tex pulled the trigger, but Slick pulled the strings. I didn't kill the man responsible for my friend's murder; I just destroyed one of that man's weapons. I had to go after Maya. It was easier for me to think that the decision was to honor Robbie or to get vengeance on his death.

  I went through Tex's pockets and found his cell phone. I didn't know where Miles was taking Maya but, browsing through the recent calls, I could sure as hell find out.

  “Yeah, you're right, Robbie.” I thought of Maya. I was the only person in the world that could help her now. “I was never very good at doing nothing.”

  Chapter 7

  Maya

  My resolve wavered as we pulled into the gated compound of closed warehouses. Batesville Casket company. It was dusk, and it'd been several hours since Robbie was killed.

  It made my heart ache. Seeing him gunned down was horrible. I didn't know my uncle all that well, but he seemed like a decent man making the best out of some bad situations. I wish I could've had the chance to get to know him better. I had so many questions that I'll never have answered.

  Inevitably, Hendrix crept into my mind and the ache in my heart doubled. I was really beginning to like him, to trust him even. Considering what they were holding over his head, his freedom, I understood why he had to let me go.

  Understanding didn't make the hurt any less. I still felt disappointed and abandoned. I couldn't help it. What was I to Hendrix anyways? Just a cock tease, with a distant connection to his now dead friend. What allegiances did he really owe me? He wouldn't be coming for me. I'd never see Hendrix again.

  He was handsome, charming, and funny but he was still an outlaw biker in a vicious MC world. I couldn't hate him for his decision to let me go. I was more mad that I allowed myself to, I dunno... dream? It wasn't his fault but all the same, in the end, I let myself be hurt by yet another biker.

  Anger, heartache, sadness... all of it wilted at the same rate in which the large metal doors opened. Rows of hanging fluorescent fixtures snapped on in consecutive sections with a flash then settled, bathing the assembly line of coffins in a drab, bluish light. The shadows lingered sickly and jumped while the bulbs overhead flickered as they heated up to full brightness.

  The warehouse was gigantic but was also full to an alarming degree. The near building-length conveyor belt was full with finished, plastic-wrapped, caskets that waited patiently for trucks to pick them up. Eight foot tall coffins stood on end atop flat, wheeled dollies. They made up long, ominous aisles to either side of us as we walked toward a silhouette of a man who was exiting a brown, walled in office area in the middle of the warehouse.

  He was joined by two other shady looking bikers as well.

  Dread knotted up my insides as a wave of nausea rolled over me. My God... I was going to be killed in a building that actually made coffins. “Please, Miles. Please don't do this.”

  “Shut up.” Lump, the man who was tasked with driving me here, shoved me forward when I slowed to a stop.

  “Easy,” Miles mildly scolded him, then stepped in front and walked to meet the man that opened the doors for us.

  There was something off about Miles, the way he succumbed immediately to the Wild Boys ploy almost like he knew something was going to happen but didn't care to stop it. There was also a regretful look in his eyes when he assumed control of the club after Tex was killed. I could tell that he ordered me taken— not because he wanted to— but because he felt that he had to.

  Miles had the demeanor of a man going through the motions. He seemed like a man with little left to lose, if anything at all. Robbie told me that Miles was pushed out of the president's position by Tex after some deal went bad and that ever since then he's been in the club mostly by habit. Here in body, Robbie told me.

  “Take her purse and put her in the office. I'll let Slick know she's here,” the man that met Miles said. “I'll have my guys watch her.” A chill ran up my spine at the mention of my father.

  There was something else as well. I couldn't immediately place it, but the man's voice sounded disturbingly familiar. It was on the tip of my brain like a distant childhood memory. He'd turned away for more privacy during his phone call before I could get a look at his face. He was extremely tall and wore the Blue Angels cut and colors. His leather vest said Rock Springs, WY. I assumed that's where we were, not that I’d ever heard of the town before.

  Something about the tall biker made my skin twitch and my stomach turn.

  Despite my stubbornness, one of the Angels ripped my purse away before I could sneak my phone out. The fat biker roughly turned me around and ran his hands up my sides then over my breasts. It was a search that would make the TSA blush. His hand clamped over my denim covered pussy and he asked, “What else you got on you, bitch?”

  “I'll take her.” Miles interjected, shoving the man backwards and stepping in between us. He put a hand on my shoulder and guided me toward the well lit office. “C'mon, Maya.”

  “Please, Miles. I have money. Just let me go,” I pleaded. I didn't have nearly enough money to get out of this mess, but the thought of what my father or his goons had in store for me was terrifying enough to promise just about anything.

  “It's not about money. Not anymore.” Miles opened the door for me.

  It was a small, one-desk room with a large window that overlooked the assembly line. It was probably an office for the shift foreman.

  “Then why do this? You don't seem like a bad man, Miles. My uncle Robbie told me you were one of the few good guys. One of the few he trusted.”

  “I didn't want any of this. If Junk hadn't killed Tex for what he did then I would've. Skids...” He sighed. “Robbie was my friend. He was a good man and it hurts like hell that he's gone.”

  “How can you claim that? You're delivering his niece to the man that ordered him killed!”

  “This is bigger than us now, Maya. The Blue Angels threatened our families and they have the reach and influence to make good on that threat. I had no choice. Slick told me that you wouldn't be hurt. He promised me.”

  “If a snake could talk, it'd say the same thing to the mouse.” I mused sardonically.

  “I'm sorry.” He shook his head and backed out of the room, closing the door behind him.

  I couldn't be mad at Miles. He wasn't evil. He was just scared and at the end of his rope. When he weighed my life against those of his friends and family... who was I? Just another unfortunate girl in a rough world.

  I thought about Hendrix again and some of my regrets. Part of me was upset that he talked me into staying, but even now I could recognize that he was right. I needed to stay. I wouldn't be able to live with myself otherwise. I just wished I had had a little more time with him. I wanted to see what kind of man he really was.

  I wish I could've gotten over myself, and let what was going to happen on that rooftop last night actually happen. My heart fluttered slightly at the thought of that, of him shirtless nibbling at my thighs...

  No! I couldn't let myself be distracted, not now. I looked around the office and softly opened drawers. The drawers were empty of anything I could use and there was no phone. The Angels weren’t stupid, they put me in here for a reason. Taking hostages, extortion, blackmail, murder, these were the types of things the Angels excelled at.

  “Argh!” I ran my hands over my face. Think, dammit! No one was coming for me! If I had any hope of surviving then I had to figure something out. I slammed my palms on the desk in frustration and heard a light rattle. It was the keyboard drawer. The metal slide, that allowed
the keyboard shelf to move in and out, was loose.

  I frantically started twisting and prying the screws out of the side of the track. The eagerness of my movement alerted the Angel that was posted outside to keep me from leaving. He struck the glass with his hand which jostled me backwards into the chair. He didn't know what I was doing but whatever it was he wanted me to stop.

  I put my hands on my lap and sat obediently until he turned back around.

  My progress was quiet and subtle, but brutally slow. The screws dug into my fingertips and nails to the point that I had to stem the urge to cry out when one of the nails split open on a metal burr. I wiped them off on my legs every few minutes, but my bloodied fingers kept slipping off the screws.

  One screw dropped onto the carpeting. There was only one left and it was the loose one. I was so close; it was halfway out. If I could just get one of the tracks free...

  The door crept open soundlessly. “Maya Merritt” the same voice from earlier cooed. Startled, I shot up and was horror-struck. “You remember me, little girl? You're not so little anymore.”

  “No...” I don't think any words actually escaped me or if they did it was barely audible. My pallor was phantom white; sweat beaded my brow and my body went as rigid as a petrified board. I was staring at a ghost. Or maybe a demon.

  “Oh don't tell me you've forgotten about me. I'm insulted!” Ricky-tick's lips parted in a yellowed shark's grin. His beady-eyed gaze was one of famished malice. He regarded me like I was floating chum in bloodied water. His awkwardly long face and intense stare was a repressed burn on my brain. Ages-old scars were ripped open wide.

  I staggered against the back wall like I was hit by a truck. I unconsciously needed to put as much distance between us as possible. The entirety of the planet wouldn't have been enough. This man shaped my life almost as much as my own father. And I was told that he was dead. God, I prayed that he was.

  “Take off, Boot. Let me know when Slick gets here. I'm going keep his daughter company.” He waved the other biker off and closed, then locked the door behind him. “Don't want our girl getting lonely.”

  “It's not possible.” I grabbed the nearest thing within reach, a cheap office chair, and rolled it between us.

  “No?” He cocked his head curiously, extending his neck to look down at me. He stood gauntly at well over six feet and the stretching motion made his already too long face look even more unnerving. His arms and legs were stick thin, making them appear exaggeratedly long. He was a meaty skeleton with a shock of gnarled black hair and sunken, delirious-looking eyes. “What'd your dad say he did with me, baby girl?”

  I swallowed repeatedly but the Sahara in my throat refused to ease. “Dead,” was the only word I could get out.

  “Ow! That's a bit harsh! I was... I am his best soldier. No, he couldn't lose me. I caught an ass whoopin' and a relocating, but nothing that dramatic.” Ricky-tick shook mockingly then chuckled.

  He circled the desk and ripped the chair away from me. The metal desktop rattled with a series of menacing raps as he casually tapped it with one of his rings while slowly walking after me. He was toying with me. He stopped, so to stay out of reach I had to stop as well.

  “Y'know, part of that night was your fault too. The way you were dressed...” He looked down and absently drew invisible designs with his fingertip on the desk. I had no words to protest with. Not that it mattered as nothing I said deterred him that night either.

  He lunged and caught my shoulders then dragged me screaming over the desk. I kicked and thrashed but he was deceptively strong. Before I knew it he was straddled on top of me. I tried to shout but it was like one of those dreams where you scream and scream but nothing comes out.

  “When Slick told me to expect you, I won't lie. I was nervous. Excited but also a little worried.” He pinned me down and with a free hand brushed his mid length hair out of his face. “Ten years was a lifetime ago and I like my darlings to be a little more... inexperienced. I was worried that you might have out grown me.”

  He leaned in, the tip of his moist nose grazed my cheek. He breathed me in and shuddered in ecstasy. “But here you are, and you haven’t aged a day.” Then with the flat of his tongue, he licked the side of my face from jaw to hairline. I gagged. The oppressive rank smell of his saliva on my skin brought water to my eyes. “You even taste the same. Oh I have missed you, my little, fallen angel.”

  I stopped thrashing when he sat on my stomach and planted both his knees over my arms preventing them from moving. He rubbed his cock through his pants, his bulge hardening. He let out a short moan, then switched to undoing the button on my jeans.

  I couldn't relive this again. I closed my eyes and started to cry. I wished I were dead.

  There was a pounding at the door. At first I thought I imagined it. Hendrix came to save me? The thought was so absurd that something like a sardonic chuckle rippled up from the depths of my sorrow. In my terror, I couldn't scream or call for help but I could still nervously laugh. The body does weird things under tremendous stress.

  The pounding again. Then the door exploded inward from a heavy kick.

  “What the fuck do you think you're doing?” Ricky-tick erupted in outrage, then was punched right off of me.

  It wasn't Hendrix. It was Miles, and his face was flush red with anger.

  “Don't you fucking touch her.” Miles looked at me then kicked Ricky-tick in the stomach. The gaunt man rolled over and went to stand up but stopped when Miles' gun clicked and pushed into his forehead.

  “This is sanctioned!” Ricky-tick barked defiantly. “You'd better stop before you do something unforgivable!”

  “Shut your mouth, scumbag.” Miles didn't move.

  “Wait.” Ricky-tick put one hand up and fished for his phone with the other. He browsed through his texts messages then handed the phone to Miles. “Check the number! It's Slick's phone. This is sanctioned!”

  Miles stubbornly took the phone and read. I could see in Miles' growing disgust that Ricky-tick was right. My father knew about this and was allowing it to happen. Miles dropped the phone and slowly lowered his gun. “His own daughter... You both make me sick.”

  “Her father loves her and wants her to know my love. This is my reward for following his orders and being a good Angel.”

  “He promised me that she wouldn't be hurt. That was the only reason I agreed to this!” Miles growled hatefully at the man, and for a moment I dared hope.

  “Maya's betrayed him,” Ricky-tick retorted looking wounded by Miles words. “She needs to learn a valuable lesson. One in blood and tears.”

  Miles still wouldn't budge.

  Please, Miles, don't leave me with him.

  “Leave us. He'll be here soon and if that lesson isn't received by then... He'll have to teach her another, harder lesson.” Ricky-tick glared at Miles, a dark promise glinting in his eyes. “He'll have to teach the Coffin Eaters a lesson as well.”

  Miles started to crack and with it went what little hope I had left. “Fine,” Miles said as he put away his gun.

  “Good,” Ricky-tick agreed. He reached for his phone on the floor.

  Miles eyes flashed with vengeful malice, he stomped Ricky-tick's hand into his phone. The tall man yelped like a struck dog. I heard at least two of his fingers gruesomely snap. It wasn't nearly enough.

  “Whoops,” Miles ground the heel of his boot into the man's digits, producing another loud pop followed by Ricky-tick's whimpering, muffled scream.“Must've slipped. Hope you're a lefty.”

  Miles' bitterness melted into anguish when he looked at me. I could see that he desperately wanted to help. By letting this happen, Miles was pissing on the memory of his friend, Robbie, but the Angel's threat still won out in his mind. As plain as it was that Miles hated doing it, his jaw set, he closed then opened his eyes, and finally turned away from me.

  Ricky-tick wouldn't be denied. That whimsical cruelty in his eyes and features had been replaced with a grim, sexual determination.
I scuttled out of the corner and tried to make a break for it. He grabbed my foot then slapped me across the face with his broken hand. His jutting, jagged, bloody bones and useless fingers sliced my cheek and forehead. The blow knocked me on my ass.

  “Ah ah ah. The fun's just started!” He squealed between labored, pained grunts. The sick freak was getting off on this! Through my own pain, hearing his excitement, scared the shit out of me.

  I tried to crawl away again but his good hand grabbed at my waistline, pulling me back. I was jolted forward to the desk when my jeans and panties gave way in his grip and slid down over my ass. My pussy rubbed into the filthy carpet.

  “I like this new fire in you, Maya! It's hotter when I have to work for it!” When his groping hands dragged my pants over my knees, it afforded me the maneuverability I needed. I clawed my way up the desk and ripped the whole keyboard drawer free. The particleboard broke into large chunks as Ricky-tick tackled me back to the ground.

  “There's nowhere to run to now, my little, fallen angel.” He hissed into my ear, wrenching his dark bent cock out of his pants. “You were always mine.” He stroked himself until fully erect, then plunged his hand through my pubic hair, fingering around for my cunt.

  “Who said I was running, you sick, sadistic fuck?” The words and my nerve returned to me in force.

  I watched his eyes bulge when I stabbed him in the neck with the twisted, metal drawer track. His cock shriveled as he jerked backwards away from me. I spit out a fleshy wad of blood from his smack and threw myself on top of him.

  This man was the embodiment of all my sexual fear. He was why all the boys I'd ever dated had been weak and submissive. He was what kept me from enjoying a night with Hendrix, a man I’d grown to really like. I couldn't explain the feeling that blossomed inside of me. It was beyond hate. It was cold, exacting conviction. Every atom in my body needed to watch this monster suffer for what he'd stolen from me.

  I pulled the metal from his neck, the spurting blood dotted my hand and arm. I cleaned the track off on his shirt so that I could bend the edge into more of a point, then stabbed him in the dick and ruptured one of his testicles.