He couldn’t tell Senna that, though. If this girl didn’t want to be found, it wasn’t his business to butt in. Maybe he’d feel things out, though, depending on how generous his mood was later. “Are you twins?”
“She’s two years younger.”
They looked similar - the same straight nose and hazel eyes. “Bathroom’s in the back,” he gestured, “Sign’s on the door. I’ll be in the office here.”
Gunner heard voices back out in the main room, so after she disappeared down the hall he stepped back out near the stage. Jupiter was there giving some guy the grand tour.
“What the fuck is this?” Gunner called.
“New business partner,” Jupiter said. “Bill sent him down.”
Oh. “Trouble.” Sure enough, when Jupiter and the man turned to survey the bar, the stranger was flying the Northern Eagles colors. It would be one thing to invite an outsider inside, show him the ropes, get friendly. It was another to walk in with a rival. Bill sent him here to die. But why? His fingers itched with anticipation.
And the man knew it. Gunner had no pokerface; for all his faults he was an awful liar and an utter failure at deception. So the moment he realized what this was about, the air around him filled with tension, and soon the rest of the room with it.
The Eagle inched away from Jupiter. “Listen, man, I don’t know what’s going on here, but-”
“They sent you down to co-manage the place,” the old man said, shooting a glare towards Gunner. “Eagles and Devils working together, right? You were there at the party, weren’t you?” Party? What the fuck is going on?
“I was.” He seemed to relax just a fraction but he still kept a wider distance between them.
“So we’re all friends here,” Jupiter said. The words were barely out of his mouth when he pulled his gun and shot the man in the head in one smooth motion. Blood and bits of gore exploded out the back of his skull, a mist of it lingering in the air well after he’d hit the ground.
Gunner grimaced; the sudden violence was unexpected and it was too early in the morning to process. “Goddamn, that was cold.”
“You spooked him. I wanted to do it over the kitchen sink.” Jupiter tucked his gun away. “You weren’t supposed to be here,” he said, “Didn’t Bill warn you this was going down?”
“Barely,” Gunner muttered. Bill’s warning had been a lot vaguer than “I’m sending a man down to Heaven’s Highway to die at six in the morning.” And since when did we start executing people? What the hell is going on? This wasn’t the Dust Bowl Devil’s style. Another change. Not good. It left a bad taste in his mouth.
“What’s this about a party?” Gunner asked. His lip curled at the sight of the man’s blood soaking into the floorboards. His mind flipped through the options for getting it cleaned up; Bill hadn’t been kidding about having a mess to deal with. He walked around the body, considering the best way to get it out of the building.
“Bill didn’t tell you? He’s working with the Eagles. Trying out a few jobs, talking about some sort of partnership.” Jupiter grunted. “This guy was just some fat they had to trim. He wanted it done out of town.”
“Eagles. He’s working with the Eagles.” It was never a good sign when Gunner repeated himself. It meant his brain was getting stuck in an angry loop and the only way to break it was with violence. The Northern Eagles. The rivals they’d had a motherfucking shootout with two years ago, the details of which were still hazy to him. He’d been in the dizzying fog of a concussion when it went down; it ended with a bullet in his thigh. He rubbed the spot now, the muscle still tight and sore sometimes all this time later.
Something else nagged at his tired brain.
Oh. Shit. Senna. In the excitement of the moment, he’d forgotten about the girl. “Something wrong?” Jupiter asked as, once again, Gunner couldn’t keep a single thought off his face.
“None of your business,” he grumbled, jabbing the body with his toe. “Wait here.”
He checked the back office. No sign of her. He checked the bathroom - every single stall, slamming the doors back while mentally cursing himself - nothing, nobody. But sunlight leaked in through the back door - it was cracked open. Someone had passed through. Shit. He glanced back up the hall, towards the room where Jupiter waited. Get rid of the body or go after the girl? Bill had assigned him to clean up the mess, but Senna was part of that mess now. He shook his head. They couldn’t have the cops coming down on the place. He had to get to her before she called the cavalry. If it isn’t too late already. He called back through the door, “Get Yards out here. We’ve got a little problem.”
Oh, God. He shot him. He SHOT him. And I saw it, I saw it, I saw the whole thing… Senna took a deep breath and gripped the steering wheel tight; she’d emerged just in time to see an old man shoot that other man in the head while Gunner just stood back and watched. She’d gotten the hint that he was a criminal, what with the gang colors and all, but murder? She stepped on the gas.
She’d almost reached a more populated area of town when she heard the unmistakable roar of a motorcycle engine behind her. Panic welled in her chest. I’ve got to ditch the van. But it was all she had - if she ditched it, she’d be on the streets. Literally. She slammed the steering wheel with her palms. All she’d wanted to do was find Aster and deliver the warning she needed to pass on before hitting the road, running and disappearing, with or without her sister. She shook her head. It was time to push thoughts of the family and of Aster away - time to take care of herself before she ended up dead at the hands of an angry biker. But how? Can he be reasoned with?
The bike was closer. She could see him in her rearview mirror, approaching, speeding up behind her, clad all in black. It sent a shiver down her spine. Death comes for me. He’s going to kill me. It wasn’t just fear, though - images of him catching her, taking her in other ways invaded her mind, flashes of flesh and sweat and - Stop it! He’s here to murder you, are you out of your mind?!
She pulled out her phone. She should have done this a mile back but she hadn’t been thinking clearly. All she could see was her own head bursting open in a cloud of red as they shot her for what she’d seen.
A loud bang followed by the van swerving madly made her drop the device. It slid somewhere under the seat as she struggled to regain control of the vehicle, but it was too late - it skid and and it slid to the right, tipping dangerously as it bounced off the asphalt and into the grass ditch. She didn’t scream; she gripped the wheel, hit the brakes, closed her eyes, and waited for impact, waited for the protective bubble of the van to crumple around her. Instead it rolled to a stop and paused at an odd angle, teetering there, waiting to tip one way or the other depending on the whims of the wind. Finally it settled back on its tires with a groan. She breathed a sigh of relief.
But her relief was short-lived - a pair of hands plunged through her open window and hit the button on her seatbelt before grabbing her by the upper arms and dragging her from the car. She breathed in leather, sweat, bar smells. Gunner. He planted her on her feet with her back against the car door. “You shouldn’t have run off.”
“You shot out my tire.” How she managed to keep her voice so calm, she didn’t know. Maybe it was from years of practice dealing with explosive family members. Maybe fear was useless to her now that she was caught. He’ll shoot me and these nightmare weeks will be over. I only wish I’d reached Aster first. Oh, God… “I didn’t see anything.”
“Oh?” His voice was soft, which was somehow held a more dangerous note than when he’d been angry with her the day before.
“I heard a gunshot and I ran,” she said, “That was all. I didn’t want to see anything.” But I saw, I saw. She kept her face still.
“I can’t believe you,” he said, taking her jaw in his hand and tilting her head to look up at him. “You know how this works.”
An odd sort of relief washed over her, then. It would be an ignoble end, there in the ditch on the side of the road, all her belongings in the
van next to her, but it was an end. No more running. Escaping one man who wanted to capture and potentially kill her was difficult enough - two would be impossible. I’m sorry, Aster. I tried. She’d be next if and when they found her.
Gunner’s brows furrowed. “You’re not gonna freak out?”
“Am I supposed to?” she asked, holding eye contact. She didn’t think she had it in her. She was afraid - scared to death, actually - but though her hands and her knees trembled, though her heart pounded so hard it hurt, none of it bubbled to the surface. If nothing else, her upbringing had taught her how to keep her cool no matter what.
He released her jaw and took off his sunglasses, revealing those blue eyes she’d found so distracting. Something like regret crosses his face. “Most people do.”
If he’s going to take his damn time then I’m gonna take my chance. She brought her knee up as hard as she could, slamming it into his groin. He grunted with surprise and took half a step back. Shit! She’d hoped it would make him drop to the ground just like all the movies promised, just like that one-week self-defense class had suggested. But he didn’t drop. He grabbed her elbow as she tried to dart past, wrenching her around. She cried out as his fingers dug in with bruising force.
“That’s enough. You had to try, but that’s enough.” He dragged her further down the ditch, away from the van and away from the road. Away from where anyone will find me. Dread formed a tight ball in her gut. Is this really happening? Her limbs felt like lead. She was lying to herself, she didn’t feel relief here so close to death. She wanted to stop running but she wanted to live.
“I have money.” The words popped from her mouth before she could consider them.
He laughed. “You’re sleeping in a van.”
How much should she tell him? How much would it take to convince him?
She settled for half-lies. Anything that would buy her time. “I have a lot of money. I’ve just been hiding it. Have you heard about Glenn Moore?” She didn’t want to sound like she was begging. She hated that pitch in her voice, that extra octave that gave away her fear. “I just have to-”
He stopped her and turned her to face him. Her heart stuttered at what she saw. Conflict, hesitation, doubt, yes, please, you’re not a monster, don’t do this! “Listen, whatever you’re getting at here…” He sighed. “I don’t care. I don’t care about your money, or... fuck!” He stepped away from her, kicked up a clod of dirt, clenched his jaw so hard she could see the muscles in his neck straining. “We don’t do this. I don’t know what the hell is happening to us, the club, but we don’t do this. I don’t want to kill you.”
“So don’t,” she whispered, cringing away from his tirade.
“Convince me, college girl,” he said, standing closer, leaning into her space and blocking out the sun. She looked up into his face, twisted with conflict, and wondered not for the first time just how unstable this man was. And yet, somehow, the heat between them was palpable. We’re both walking a very thin line, here. “Convince me that I can trust you.”
She saw him, then. Here was a man not so different from her at all - trapped by circumstances beyond his control, desperately unhappy, just plain lost. Maybe if she appealed to their similarities, if she made him see her as a fellow human being instead of just some “college girl,” maybe she could still get out of this.
“I know what it’s like to have very few choices and none of them good,” she said. “I have none right now, either. I’ve already got one dangerous person looking for me and I don’t need more. I need to see my sister and then disappear off of everyone’s radars. His, yours, hers if she won’t come with me…” she sighed. “What I’m saying is, your gang’s business is none of my business. And I didn’t see anything. And I planned on disappearing before I was anywhere near whatever ‘nothing’ it is that I didn’t see.”
The air about him changed as she spoke. Maybe he was convinced? He seemed sincere about not wanting to kill her - maybe she actually had a chance.
Then he pulled his gun from somewhere beneath his vest. She staggered a step back as her knees threatened to give out. Bile rose in her throat. “Wait-”
He fired twice, aiming at the ground, sending clods of grass and dirt bursting near her ankles. Then he tucked the gun back where it came from, out of sight.
His voice was low. “You have to abandon the van and everything in it.” She nodded. The sudden rush of hope made her light-headed as she stood still and let him speak. “And you can’t come anywhere near Heaven’s Highway, ever. Understand? If your sister doesn’t want to see you, you can’t stalk the parking lot again.”
“I understand.”
“This other person that’s after you. How dangerous are we talking?”
“Big money long reach dangerous,” she sighed. “White collar crime dangerous.”
He grimaced. “Okay, stop. I don’t want to know. Jesus. That’s your fucking problem.” He shook his head. “Rich people.” He looked her up and down again, and something else crossed his face - something a little too close to lust for comfort. She shifted and he shook himself out of it. “A disguise, then. Just enough so you can walk through a parking lot without being recognized.”
“I could cut my hair.” She was out of money for a proper haircut but she could afford a pair of scissors.
He reached out and touched it - just pinched a loose lock between his fingers, lost in thought. She held her breath. Why did he have to stand so close? She felt practically dwarfed by him - broad-shouldered and taller than her, just how she liked a guy, hard as they were to find for someone of her height. If only he wasn’t a gang member, if only he was somebody less dangerous. Or maybe part of me likes the danger.
The emotional part of her wanted to cry and to hug him and thank him for letting her live. She was good at tamping down that part of herself, though. But she was feeling overheated.
“Get your stuff,” he said finally, withdrawing and heading back up towards the road. “I’ll take you to the closest motel.”
She bit her lip as she followed. That would kill the last of the cash she had. There’d be nothing left for food, nevermind for fleeing the town. She had her bus ticket to the west coast but she’d have to get to one of the bus stations along its route first, and the closest one was half a day’s drive away. “Can’t I just sell the van?” she asked. She’d bought it because it was cheaper than flying out and renting a car. Her big plan was to make the stops she needed to make to find her sister - her last one here in Colfax County - before reselling the van, getting on the bus, and crashing with a friend of a friend in California, just until she could save a little money and plan her next move. She knew it was a flimsy plan, but this was one hell of a wrench.
He smirked. “You’ve never been on the run before, have you?”
“No.” I’ve never been this broke before, either. She rummaged around the car and pulled out her phone and her purse. She packed a quick backpack full of belongings from the backseat - just clean clothes, toiletries - and left the rest behind. Maybe another homeless person will live in it. It wasn’t as miserable as it could have been. Goodbye, ugly minivan.
He was sitting on the bike and waiting for her when she finally finished. He pushed his helmet into her hands. “What about you?” she asked.
His lip curled. “What sort of asshole do you think I am? You’re not cracking your skull on my watch. Get on.”
That was almost sweet. She’d only ridden on a motorcycle a couple of times in her life, and none as big as Gunner’s. Climbing on was an undignified affair and her heavy backpack didn’t help - he had to push and shove her to help her up. He didn’t appear to be as exasperated as she felt at least - if anything, he looked amused. She wrapped her arms awkwardly around his waist, still conscious of the fact that this man had driven out originally planning on killing her. “Tighter,” he warned. When she hesitated, he grunted with impatience and hit the gas.
So much for being sweet, she thought as she was nearly
flung off the back. She locked her arms tight around him as he took off down the road like a rocket. Trees, shops, other vehicles whizzed by - apparently traffic laws did not apply to Gunner, gang member.
She had to keep reminding herself of that - gang member. She couldn’t let herself forget that she was still in deep trouble - that the man she was clinging to, with his rock-hard abs and deliciously strong arms, was dangerous. Maybe it was just the ride and the freeing feeling of the sun and wind on her skin, or maybe it was their closeness - she couldn’t shake the thought of how it would feel to plant her lips on his neck at that moment - the tanned skin and taut muscles beneath beckoned - she’d bet he tasted as good as he looked. She shook her head. She was just reacting to the relief of being alive, that was all. She was just grateful that he hadn’t killed her. Senna wasn’t the sort of girl to give in to silly impulses - she held back, turned away, focused on the scenery as it screamed by. Keep it together, Senna. Don’t forget that he drove out here prepared to kill you.
The bike sped up and her heart beat faster.
◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙
Too long or too soon later - she couldn’t decide - he pulled into the parking lot of the Little Blue Motel. It was small but appeared to be clean enough, at least on the outside. Oddly, no part of it was painted blue. It was all white with touches of green. He stopped the bike right in front of the front doors. “It’s no Hilton but they keep the pests out,” he said as he swung his leg over and off the bike, “Wait here.” He strode inside before she could protest.
There goes to last of my funds. How many nights can I afford, two? Three? She wasn’t used to worrying about money, as much as she hated to admit it. Her family hadn’t lived the mega-rich lifestyle that Gunner seemed to imagine, but she’d never swiped her bank card and prayed it didn’t get rejected. She’d never felt anxiety while handing over a few dollars for a frivolous purchase. Now she was considering snack machine prices and the cleanliness of motel tap water. It wasn’t a good feeling - in fact it made her feel a little sick.
Devil's Fall: Dust Bowl Devils MC Page 3
