The bar’s back door opened and more men spilled out. They were hulking shadows in the dim light, but she recognized the glint of guns and knives. Gunfire sprayed the door, sending them diving.
On top of everything else, could she be caught in a war between rival gangs? It was the only thing that made sense. She kicked out the moaning guy on the passenger seat and threw the car into drive. The gun was in her lap; she needed both hands to drive, shaking as they were. Two bikers rolled over her hood and off to the side. A loud boom preceded a crater opening up on the side of her hood. The engine died.
A biker standing just inside the bar aimed the biggest damned gun she’d ever seen right at her. Fear seized her. Ducking would do no good, not by the way the first shot had torn her car apart. She reached for her gun, knowing she didn’t have enough time.
Red bloomed on his chest, and he fell backward. The gun clattered to the ground. A woman inside screamed. More gunfire sprayed across the asphalt where the other guys had just regained their footing.
“Mollie! Come with me.”
She turned to the man’s voice at her open passenger door. The hot Latino—his name escaped her. He held his hand out—he looked like a freakin’ angel at the moment. Clamping one hand on her gun, she latched on to him with her other, and he pulled her across the seat and out the other side. They ran across the parking lot, Julian—that was his name—gripping her hand as he led her into the darkness of the empty plot of land.
“Get the son of a bitch!” someone called from behind them.
Two bullets hit the ground only a foot away. Julian swung his arm and squeezed off several shots from a semi-automatic. They rounded a bush where his bike was hidden.
“I hope you can ride,” he said as he threw his gun into one of the bags on the back and pulled out another one, then hopped onto the bike.
She couldn’t talk over her pounding heart and gasping breath. She just climbed on behind him as he started the engine. She knew enough to hold on tight. Her arms clamped around his waist the second before he hit the gas and tore across the lot. Even over the engine, she heard the shots. One hit something metallic on the bike. She held her breath, but the engine kept running. Julian aimed his gun and fired back.
Several figures were running around to the front of the building. “They’re coming after us!” she screamed.
The tire fishtailed when they hit the asphalt. They tore down the road, then turned down four more roads before getting on to the expressway. She kept looking behind them, watching for the telltale single headlights. It didn’t take long for them to catch up. Julian had to slow as he came up on two cars obviously either drag racing or conversing. Their windows were open, and driver and passenger were shouting across the distance.
Julian tried to pass, and the jerk moved over to block him. They were punks, obviously thinking they were going to one-up a hot rod biker. She felt tension ripple across Julian’s body.
Three bikes were coming up fast behind them. Julian faked the driver out and shot between the cars. She only hoped they’d try to block the bikers, too. No deal. The sight of gang members probably knocked some sense into the stupid kid. He eased back into the right lane just in time for the bikers to come through unimpeded.
Her throat was so dry that she could hardly swallow. She had a death lock on Julian’s waist. A bike was coming from the opposite direction, another scary-looking dude with longish hair and a beard. Was he part of the Kings, come to assist his brothers? Julian lifted a hand and gestured behind, then gunned the gas.
After they passed through a cloverleaf interchange, the city fell away. Vacant land and a couple of hotels and buildings that looked like factories were all she could see. Tears streamed from her eyes as they hit speeds that had to be beyond ninety. And still, the bikers remained within sight behind them. Julian had his gun in his grip, but he needed both hands to steer at this speed.
Gunshots sounded again, bullets screaming across the asphalt. Julian zigzagged, making them a harder target. A fourth light came up behind the three bikes.
Julian hit his brakes three times and yelled, “Hold on!” He sped ahead, took the exit to the right, and slowed fast as he came around the bend. They left the road, traveling over the bumpy shoulder and up the hill before coming to a jarring stop. “Get off,” he said, already laying the bike down. He launched himself to the ground, flat on his stomach, gun ready.
Holy hell, who was this guy?
“Hunker down!” he hissed. “Behind me.”
A guy who knew what he was doing. He was a weird combination of relaxed and tense, tracking the bikes with his gun. The bikers were roaring around the exit ramp. One of them spotted her and aimed. Crazily, the fourth guy on the bike behind them shot out his rear tire. The first bike slid sideways across the road and onto the other shoulder. Julian shot the other guy’s tank, sending him crashing. The third guy hauled ass, his engine fading into the distance.
Julian bounded to his feet, hauling her up with him. “Come on, we need to get out of here.”
They climbed back onto his bike and caught up to the mystery rider who’d been an ally. His tank was painted like the American flag, his brown hair flowing just past his shoulders beneath his small helmet. He gestured to the left and took off. Julian followed.
Mollie’s head was spinning. She thought she might be sick. She wanted to scream. At the moment, all she could do was hang on to the guy who had saved her life—and nearly gotten her killed on his bike.
By the time both motorcycles pulled into a motel’s parking lot and rolled around the back and out of sight from the road, she’d calmed her mind and stomach by an act of sheer will. The moment the bike came to a stop, she jumped off, then stumbled on jelly legs. Julian put it up on the kickstand and easily swung his leg over, solid as a tree.
The other guy came over, sans helmet, and the two clasped hands and uttered some kind of victory shout. “Nice backup,” Julian said with a grin. “You got my text.”
The guy scrubbed his fingers through hair much cleaner than any other biker’s that she’d seen. “Had a hairection, which was weird because they’re usually warnings about immediate danger. Once I figured out there was no risk to me, I checked my phone.” He took her in with steely dark blue eyes, but turned back to Julian. “What the hell happened? Last I knew you were heading on out; a half hour later you’ve got a chick on your ride and three bikers on your ass.”
Julian laughed as he turned to her. “She happened.”
“How can you laugh?” Mollie said, everything inside her exploding. “How can you act like this is … is normal? Like it’s all r-right.” Her body was starting to tremble, her teeth chattering. “Are you both c-crazy?”
“We’re military,” Julian explained. “This shit is normal for us. Was normal, anyway.” He slid the other guy one of those insider looks but returned his gaze to her. “Maybe you should put your gun away.”
She glanced down, only now aware that she was clutching it. Thankfully not with her finger on the trigger. That safety lesson had been hammered into her brain. She holstered it, pulling her shirt down to cover it. Damn, her hands were shaking.
“You okay? You’re trembling.” Julian started to put his arms out to steady her.
She backed away. “Don’t touch me. I’m just …” Oh, God, she was going to cry. Like a tidal wave rolling in, everything threatened to crash over her. Almost getting killed, or maybe worse than killed. Being so close to finding a clue, and now being farther than ever after all these grueling weeks. She turned away completely, facing the road and fighting that wave for all she was worth.
Breathe, breathe, suck it in. You’ve been doing that all these weeks. Don’t cry in front of these tough guys.
She heard them talking, but not about her falling apart. Julian was filling his friend in on what had happened. They were military then. She could hear Julian’s excitement as he recounted the gunfight, comparing it to some incident in Kabul. Why was he ignoring her?
He was giving her time and privacy. Could he be that sensitive, a guy who’d shot men without a moment’s hesitation? No, he was probably just absorbed in telling his tale.
She turned, surreptitiously taking in her savior. He was about six feet tall, his thick hair completely mussed from the ride. It gleamed a rich brown in the lights. He wore a black tank top that played off his olive skin and defined biceps. His jeans were loose, yet still showed off muscular thighs.
He turned toward her, obviously picking up that she’d been looking at him. “You all right now?”
He had been giving her a moment. She didn’t like how that made her feel.
Like a dog desperate for any scrap of compassion or tenderness.
No, that was her sister, not her. She swallowed back the well of emotion and nodded. With her arms wrapped around herself, she joined them. “Thanks. I just needed to pull myself together.”
He gave her a nod of understanding. “This is my brother, Rath. Rath, this is Mollie.”
She shook hands with the seriously scary-looking guy, whose eyes were still glittering from the excitement. “Nice to meet you … Rath. Is that a biker nickname? As in W-R-A-T-H?”
He made a snorting sound. “It’s a shortened version of my idiotic legal name—Rathmusen.”
Yeah, he definitely wasn’t a Rathmusen.
Julian chuckled. “And I thought my five last names were bad enough.”
She shifted her gaze to Julian. “He doesn’t look like your brother. He’s not …”
“Puerto Rican,” Julian finished. “He’s not my blood brother; he’s my team brother. We’ve been on the road since we left the military two months ago. We’d just said our goodbyes and were heading our separate ways. When I overheard you and your friend, I texted Rath to come back.”
“You knew there’d be trouble,” she said.
“Pretty woman meeting a gang member at a bar at two in the morning? No way was I going to leave you there. Unfortunately, you were as afraid of me as you should have been of the guy you were meeting.”
She felt her cheeks heat. “I wasn’t afraid of you. Just wary. I’ve been dealing with bikers and drugged-out hang-arounds for a month. I have to be wary of everyone.”
He waved his hand. “It’s okay, I didn’t take it personally. I wouldn’t want my sisters trusting some dude who looks like I do right now either.”
He had sisters he cared about. She pushed past the temptation to feel comforted by that. Lots of men had sisters. Even serial killers. “I’m sure something happened to the guy I was supposed to meet. They said Billy Bob was ‘tied up.’ ” Her chest tightened painfully as she remembered the rest of what the guy said. “That he didn’t have a care in the world. Oh, hell, that sounds like he’s … he’s dead. Because he was helping me.”
“If Billy Bob was hoping to make his bones, patch in to an OMG, he was headed down a bad road anyway,” Julian said, not without sympathy.
She knew OMG stood for outlaw motorcycle gang and not the text slang Oh My God. Billy Bob’s downward path didn’t ease her guilt. Scenes from earlier kept flashing through her mind. Suddenly one became very clear. “My car. They disabled it. And it’s still at the bar.” Her only transportation, and little money to fix it. Her small suitcase was in there, too, though she didn’t carry a purse. She patted her waist, relieved to find that her cell phone had survived the wild ride. She chose a number from her directory.
“Who are you calling?” Rath asked.
“My contact at the Oklahoma City Police Department. I went there first when leads brought me here, hoping they could help. Or at least give me information about the local clubs. They let me talk to one of their detectives who’s familiar with biker gangs.” When he answered, she said, “Detective Boyd, this is Mollie Reagan. We spoke a couple of weeks ago about my missing sister who was with the Kings of Chaos.”
“Yes, I remember. You’re still in the city?”
“Yes. There’s been an incident.” She gave him a thumbnail version of how she’d ended up behind a biker bar, but stumbled on the details as the fear came back.
Julian gestured for her to give him the phone. “Sir, my friend and I are with Ms. Reagan.” He started rattling off details in a methodical, unemotional fashion, even the direction in which they’d gone and what exit they’d taken. Amazing, since she could remember no details. He rolled his shoulders. “You’ll find two bikes down at the curve if you can get units out there fast enough … yes, sir, here she is.” He handed the phone back to Mollie.
“Are you all right?” the detective asked. “Who are these guys?”
“I don’t know.” She found herself looking into Julian’s eyes, dark green and fringed with thick lashes. Mystery saviors? “They showed up to help.”
“Are you comfortable with them? Just say no, and I’ll get a car right out.”
She wasn’t entirely comfortable with them, but she felt safe. Which made no sense, so she simply said, “Yes. They saved my life.”
“I’ll meet you. I can be there in twenty minutes.”
She gave him the motel’s name and general vicinity and hung up.
“Smart of you to go to the police when you got to town,” Julian said.
“They couldn’t do much, because I have no proof that Di’s in danger. Not to mention that they don’t have the resources to launch a search for an adult who voluntarily joined an outlaw gang.”
Julian dipped his head in a short nod. “In their view, she’s probably just another lost soul who made a bad choice.” His gaze softened. “Plenty of them unfortunately.” He walked over to his bike and put his gun inside a storage compartment on the back. From the one on the other side, he extracted a water bottle that he threw to Rath, then brought her one. “Tell me about Diana. What have you found out?”
Their fingers brushed when he handed her the bottle, and she felt an odd jolt. She focused on his question, preparing to tell the story she’d relayed a hundred or more times. As she gratefully sucked down several gulps of water, she realized that no one actually cared. The authorities had nodded in sympathy. The lowlifes she’d talked to had all been thinking about what they could get for their help. Julian seemed genuinely interested, with no hungry gleam in his eyes.
She sank down on the curb, her legs unable to hold her any longer. “The Kings came to Daytona Beach, where we live, back in May. Di met Brick at one of the bars where she likes to hang out. She’s always been drawn to the dark, dangerous kind of guy.” Just like the men standing in front of her. “I did some online research on the Kings, but my warnings about their criminal activity didn’t sway her. Brick was different, she swore. A good guy. She thought she’d finally found someone to love her.” She wrapped her hands around the bottle, the cool moisture chilling her palms.
Rath prowled the parking lot. There seemed to be some unspoken language between them. A nod, a blink. Rath was patrolling.
“For two weeks Di kept her Facebook page updated.” Mollie pulled up some of the pictures she’d saved from the posts and showed him. “The guy with her is Brick. Then the page closed down. She called from her cell phone and asked me to help her, but we were cut off. I couldn’t reach her when I called back, and subsequent calls rolled straight to voice mail. Eventually the box filled up. According to the bill, there’s been no activity on her phone since.”
He tilted his head, taking her in. “What about your parents? Friends? Why are you doing this all by yourself?”
She could hear the bewilderment in his voice. Probably at her foolishness. So she would try to make him understand. “Our father left when I was four. Our mother had a hard time coping, and the wine turned to vodka and then to meth. When she started to fall apart, we moved in with her dad and his wife. They tried to help, but Mom’s drug use got worse, and she overdosed.” Mollie hated that word.
Julian rested his hand on her arm for a moment, giving her a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry. That must have been rough.”
She
fought not to crumble beneath his touch. Thankfully he kept it brief, and she cleared her throat and continued. “When Di hit her teens, she stumbled down the same path. My grandfather threatened her with rehab, and I was constantly on her case. Maybe that was part of the allure of going off with the Kings. She’d be free of his ultimatums and my overbearing big-sister-ness. He told her if she left with the Kings, he and my step-grandmother were wiping their hands clean of her. And they’ve stuck with that promise.”
“Isn’t there anyone else who can help?” Julian asked.
“I don’t know anyone on my father’s side of the family, nor do I know the distant family members on my mother’s side. I haven’t had time to develop any meaningful relationships since I spend most of my free time being my sister’s keeper. Di’s friends pretty much shrugged and said they’d let me know if they heard from her.”
“What about hiring a private detective?”
“I can’t afford their fees, so I became my own detective. I spent weekends traveling to cities where she’d posted, asking questions and putting up flyers. Leads turned into wild goose chases. Maybe they’d seen Di, maybe they hadn’t. I found out that the clubs have chapters, so I traveled to each one’s location. I always went to the police first to see if they could help or at least give me information on the chapter’s activities. Help, no. Information included a laundry list of crimes followed by a warning to go home. I figured out where the biker bars were and watched until a King came out. Then I’d follow. Sometimes I’d go into the bar, but usually during the day.
“I found the chapter Brick belonged to by matching faces with those in Di’s pictures. Scotch, the Oklahoma City chapter’s president, told me they kicked Brick out of the club for pulling a knife on another member. He took Di with him. Scotch said he didn’t know Brick’s real name.”
Julian scoffed. “They know everything about everyone in the club. One prospect said they even had a PI run a background check on him.”
Wild Ways Page 3
