Bones

by Alexis Abbott

Realistically, what I’ll probably do is get round up one of the guys and come back with company to help her get her car. If this is a trap and she’s watching me walk out of it, she’ll be banking on me coming back alone. And I don’t want to get caught with my pants down if that happens.

  My engine roars, and I feel her eyes following me as I ride into the sunrise, heading toward our clubhouse.

  The wind whips around my body, and even though my head is fuzzy after a long, sleepless night, the thrill of riding wakes me up like a charm. There’s nothing like the freedom of roaring across an open road with a trail of dust behind you and nothing but the same stretching out forever ahead of you. There were a lot of stretches of road out here where all you saw in both directions was road and plains, and that suited me just fine. It did when I blazed across the Mojave, I did it when I was weaving through the mountains of Utah, and it does now. No matter what the land, as long as I’m riding, I feel free.

  At least, I usually do. Before long, my mind drifts back to that odd house in the hills, like it’s an anchor tying me back and urging me to return. Part of me feels like I’ll ride back there with one of my fellow Heartbreakers only to find nothing there, like it was all some strange illusion all along.

  I run my hand over my face. Now I know it’s the lack of sleep talking. But that girl was downright ethereal, and she felt every bit as good as she looked. That’s something you don’t forget easily, not even when you live a life that never lets you settle down too long.

  I pull up at the clubhouse, and I see that the MC’s bikes are already lined up outside. Looks like nobody else had a late night. It’s about 8:00 in the morning by the time I arrive, and when I stride in, the level of activity is about what I’d expect: nothing.

  Ironsides and Big Daddy are hanging out on the ground level, both of them eating some fast food for breakfast.

  “Hey hey, Casanova’s back,” Big Daddy chuckles deeply as I come in and roll my eyes.

  Ironsides doesn’t say anything, but he gives me that vaguely intimidating smile and nod he knows so well. I can never tell if he means it to look unsettling, but Ironsides might just be a scary looking bastard, good a heart as he’s got.

  “C’mon, where is she?” Big Daddy asks, leaning forward. “You didn’t leave her on your bike, did you? We know you’re more of a gentleman than that, Bones.”

  “We’ll get to that,” I say, chuckling. “Might have some things to tie up on the business side of last night before we can think about that. Is Breaker around?”

  “Downstairs,” Ironsides grunts, jabbing a thumb toward the stairs.

  “He wants to see you,” Big Daddy adds, nodding. “Wouldn’t keep him waiting. Sounds like your conversation last night has him worried.”

  “Good,” I say, striding past them and heading down the stairs and murmuring to myself, “It has me worried too.”

  I head downstairs to what looks like a speakeasy right out of New York City, all the way up here in Wyoming. This place used to be falling apart, but Breaker bought the place after renting the basement for long enough, and his girl Kate fixed it up better than Breaker could have ever dreamed.

  She isn’t around today, but that’s not unusual. She keeps busy with that baby on the way, no matter how much Breaker tries to keep her safe at home. I make my way past the bar to the meeting room, where I find our prez waiting for me at the end of the conference table.

  “Bones,” he says as I enter, glancing up at me briefly. “Glad to see you’re in one piece. Sounds like everything went alright this morning?”

  “We usually don’t drill each other like this after a one night stand,” I say with a grin, taking a seat close to him at his end of the table. “So I’m guessing that means you’re worried about the same thing I am.”

  “Diesel doesn’t need to stop and take a break,” Breaker agrees with a deep sigh, reaching for the fast food breakfast I see he cashed in on as well. “See anything suspicious as her at her house?”

  He slides a sausage and egg biscuit my way, and I tear into it as soon as I can smell it. I forgot how hungry I am.

  “Haven’t picked up on anything that’s sending off alarm bells,” I say. “No urgent ones, at least. Simple house, no pictures, not a lot of personal touches. Need to go back there for her and give her a ride to her car, it’s still at the bar. She’s hiding from something, or someone, I’d wager.”

  “Or, she’s bait that Diesel set out for one of us to take,” Breaker points out, and I’m nodding before he even finishes the thought.

  “That’s why I got the fuck out of there so early,” I say after a mouthful of buttery biscuit. “But I don’t think that’s the case. I think Diesel’s not above it, but she had all the chances in the world she wanted with me. I didn’t even sleep last night, and she didn’t budge. Nobody with something on their mind like that would sleep that peacefully. I mean, unless she’s a trained operative or something, and that’s something I can’t say I can see Diesel pulling off.”

  “Nah,” Breaker agreed, chuckling. “Good point, we’d be in over our heads if we were up against that. Can’t let ourselves underestimate him, though. I’m proof enough of what a lone man backed against the wall is capable of. I’m not giving Diesel the same opportunity I took advantage of to kill Buzz.” He pauses, then looks at me less seriously. “How was it, by the way?”

  I roll my eyes, and Breaker punches my arm as we chuckle.

  “Good,” I admit. “Damn good. The kind you don’t forget, good.”

  “You’re making a strong case for the secret agent angle,” Breaker points out casually.

  “Hey, nothin’ against secret agents as long as they’re working for us,” I say.

  Breaker watches me for a moment with a smile, then gives the nod I know means our meeting is over. He stands up, and I wad up my trash as I follow suit.

  “Alright, that’s all I wanted to touch base on. Don’t worry about the ride, I’ll go get her for you. If she acts funny around me, too, it’ll tell us whether she’s safe. If she’s Diesel’s, then she’ll try to pull something on me. If not, I’ll see you back here—to remind you about that money you owe Ironsides from pool,” he added.

  My instinct is to bristle at the idea of Breaker going to get my girl, but then again, she’s not my girl—she’s her own. I bite back the childish impulse and nod, walking out with Breaker toward the door.

  “Got it. Post up and wait for you to get back and see if we have an agent on our hands,” I said.

  “And pay Ironsides,” Breaker calls, but I’m already halfway up the stairs with a grin on my face.

  He’ll get that money when I win it back from him.

  Lauren

  I can’t seem to stop stealing furtive glances over at the man behind the steering wheel of the vintage car. My whole body is still tingling with the newness of it all. Riding in cars with boys. Talking to boys. Letting a boy touch my body.

  No. Not a boy, I correct myself. A man. A real man.

  I stare out the window nervously, the glossy tinted windows nearly perfectly reflecting my anxious, wide-eyed expression. I’m grinding my teeth, my fingertips tapping out a frenetic involuntary rhythm on the inner door handle. I know, somehow vaguely, that this must be a little annoying for my gracious chauffeur to listen to, but I can’t seem to make myself stop. I feel packed to the brim with nervous energy. After everything that happened last night, I feel a little scattered, like dandelion puffs on a strong wind. Where will I go? Where will I land?

  I know right now I have one singular destination: the bar where I left my car last night, along with my purity and my long-held solitude. Even though it’s a glorious, clear Saturday afternoon, my mind is clouding over with worry and regret. I do not regret what transpired between my handsome stranger and me last night. I know it was a long time coming, and I can’t pretend like it wasn’t one of the single-most awe-inspiring nights of my life thus far. Learning that I, too, bear the capacity for darkness, but that there can
truly be pleasure in the shadows if you venture there with the right companion. It feels strangely liberating in a way, even if my fear has not been completely vanquished. It still clings to the edge of my mind, pricking me like a needle every now and again, just so that I will not completely forget the dark place I come from.

  I glance over at the driver again. He’s another startlingly good-looking guy, with a serious expression that seems permanently hitched to his face. Dark eyes, dark hair, dark demeanor. I can completely understand how he might be an associate of the handsome but rough-edged stranger who changed my life irretrievably last night. They both share a sort of grim defiance that makes them slightly intimidating but also gives them this fire that is difficult to tear away from. I don’t want to look away, but I know I must. Still, the silence settling into the space between us feels as heavy as a shroud, and I don’t think I can withstand the whole ride to the bar this way. So finally, in a voice as soft and muted as a child’s, I speak.

  “Thank you again for driving me back,” I murmur. “I don’t know what got into me last night to make me leave my car behind. It’s very… out of character for me.”

  “Oh, I have a pretty good idea of what—or who—got into you last night,” the man called Breaker remarks pointedly.

  I feel the rosy blush spread across my cheeks, my heart thumping like crazy. Does he know what happened? Does he know what I gave up last night? And much worse still: does he know who I am and why it even matters at all?

  “Are you friends with him Do you know him well?” I ask, trying not to sound too eager.

  I have a feeling my interest is impossible to miss, though. After all, I’m dying to know more about the mysterious, handsome stranger who swept into my barren world and injected hot, bright lightning into it. I want to know everything about him and commit it to memory. I don’t know if I will ever see him again, but the experience he gave me should be enough to sustain me for a long time. Or so I hope. But there’s this quiet, niggling worry in the back of my mind telling me that no matter how hard I try to resist it, to pull away and pretend like none of it has anything to do with me, I’ll never get past it. I will never forget. And now that I have gotten a light taste of the kind of pleasure I’ve been denying myself all these years… how can I ever go back? I will always be craving more. I’m addicted after just one taste.

  “You really want to know more about him?” Breaker says.

  The man driving the car looks over at me with his dark eyes narrowed, his heavy brow knitted tightly in the middle. There’s a half-smile playing around his lips, like he can’t decide whether to be amused or disturbed by my questions. I wonder if I’ve danced too close to the fire. Maybe I have revealed too much of myself to this man already. What has come over me lately? I used to be oh so good at wrapping up all of my feelings and memories, tying them up with a pretty bow, and shoving them into some dusty, cobwebby corner to be forgotten about.

  But I can’t stop thinking about him. I can’t seem to put him back in the box.

  Breaker appears a little put-out by my lack of interest in him, and I get it. He’s the kind of intriguing stranger most women are probably drawn to. He has a romantic type of bad-boy charm, but perhaps my very own mysterious man has inoculated me with immunity against Breaker’s appeal. His eyes drag back to focus on the dusty, empty country road in front of us.

  “Yes. I don’t even know his name. But he saved me from that awful guy in the bar. I-I just want to be able to properly thank him,” I manage to get out.

  “So you’re not one of Diesel’s girls, then,” he muses aloud.

  I frown and tilt my head to one side. “Diesel? What do you mean?” I ask.

  He shakes his head and tightens his grip on the wheel so that his knuckles go white. “Don’t you worry about that. If you don’t belong to him already, count your blessings,” he says.

  “I don’t go out very often. I don’t think I would have crossed paths with someone named Diesel,” I reply. Then I brighten up. “Unless Diesel is the name of the man who took me home last night.”

  Breaker snorts and rolls his eyes. “Hell, no. Trust me, you would have had a much different experience if it was Diesel who took you home. Especially because he probably would not have taken you to your home, if you know what I mean,” he says.

  I don’t. I don’t know what he means. But I’m not interested in that anyway. I just want to eke out as much information about my mystery guy as possible.

  “Then tell me about him—the one who saved me last night. Please. At least let me know his name,” I pleaded softly.

  Breaker looks over at me with an almost pitying expression, which I hate. I cannot stand the feeling of being pitied. Few things make me feel so hopeless and childlike as pity. Sympathy, maybe. But pity? I would rather be met with anger or hatred than that.

  “His name is Bones,” Breaker reveals flatly.

  “Bones?” I repeat, raising an eyebrow with incredulity. “That doesn’t sound like a real name to me.”

  “Well, does Breaker sound like a real name to you?” he points out.

  I shrug. “Okay. I see your point. But why can’t I know his actual birth name? Is it a secret for some reason? Why? And what about you?” I ask, firing off question after question.

  “You have a lot of questions bouncing around in that pretty little head of yours,” Breaker growls. “You would do better to clamp down on some of them. There are things out here in the world you do not want the answer to. That may seem hard to believe, but—”

  “No,” I interrupt suddenly and fiercely. “It’s not hard to believe. Trust me.”

  Breaker gave me a look that indicated he was starting to see another side to me. I know what he probably thought when he first saw me. I’m not a fool. I know what I look like in the predatory eyes of men. I know how dainty and wide-eyed and innocent I can appear to those who don’t know me well. I know I seem breakable. Naive. Sheltered. And all of those things are true, but that’s not all there is to know about me. I’m more complicated than any of them ever notice.

  I look easy, but I’m not. I’m hard. They just haven’t seen me tested yet.

  “Here. You want to reach out to Bones so badly, I’ll give you his phone number,” Breaker says, surprising me.

  I hastily whip out my simple burner phone to type in a new contact under the name BONES. He recites the number to me and I file it away, my heart racing. It’s been so long since I programmed a new number into my collection. I change phones so often and I live such an isolated existence that there are rarely more than one or two saved contacts in my phone at any given time. And those are usually 9-1-1 and some food delivery company. To have a real phone number that connects with a man like Bones… it almost feels like too much power.

  “Tell me about him. Please,” I beg.

  Breaker sighs, shaking his head. “Bones is… Bones. He’s a good man, if that’s what you’re wondering. Rough around the edges, like the rest of us. He’s seen some dark shit in his life, but it hasn’t turned him completely dark. He deserves a good woman to keep him company,” Breaker tells me emphatically.

  I bite my lip, guilt rising like bile in my throat.

  “And what if I’m not a good woman?” I murmur.

  Breaker’s face crumples into a bemused smile and he chuckles grimly. “I don’t think a girl like you is capable of being bad,” he remarks. “Don’t worry; whatever you’re afraid of, whatever you’re hiding, Bones has seen worse.”

  I know he probably means all of this in a helpful way, but it doesn’t work for me. Instead, I just feel slighted. Overlooked. Dismissed. Like all the nightmares I have suffered through mean nothing at all to this world-hardened man gripping the steering wheel. Like Bones would scoff at the demons that have been trailing after and haunting me all these long, lonely years.

  When we reach the bar, I listen to the crackle of the vehicle tires on gravel, my heart starting to pound harder and faster. I see my trusty little car parked in
the back left corner of the lot, untouched and safe. I breathe a sigh of relief to see it there unharmed. Out in the country like this, you never know who or what might mess with your stuff. Especially a solid, dependable vehicle. There are some who would kill for what I have, and I know it.

  Breaker cuts the engine and hops out to come around and open the side door before I even have a chance to pop my seatbelt open. He offers me a hand and I take it, letting him help me down to my feet. I rub my shoulders, shivering slightly in the brisk air. It’s sunny, at least, but still chilly. I look across to my car longingly, then back at the bar. I remember now that the bartender must have taken my keys, which means I have to follow along as Breaker strolls into the bar. My whole body is on high alert as I step through the doors, my eyes scanning the room for any hint of danger. And, of course, for any sign of Bones.

  Breaker abandons me pretty much the second he walks into the bar, and for a moment I’m a little hurt, until I see him walk right up to a pretty girl smiling at him from the bar counter. He gives her an equally adoring smile and envelops her in his strong arms, and I can tell immediately that there must be a lot of real, true love between them. I can feel the tension and fear held in my body starting to loosen up and melt away as I watch the pair of them softly murmur to each other in the way lovers do. Or at least, the way I assume lovers do. I don’t exactly have a wealth of positive experiences with “love” to reflect on. But they seem happy, and that makes me feel less afraid of being in the bar where the fight broke out. Besides, it’s daytime now and the ambiance here is a far cry from the grim grittiness of last night. I decide to be brave and strut right up to the counter, though I can’t resist my nervous habit of twirling a lock of hair around my finger as I slide onto a barstool and wave to get the bartender’s attention.

  He gives me a nod and comes sauntering over, swinging my car keys around his pointer finger. He gently sets it down on the glossy counter in front of me, bracing himself on his elbow.

  I give him a smile. “Thank you so much for holding onto my keys. I feel like I need to apologize again for things getting… out of hand last night,” I say softly.