Meadow turned to see his hand in Porsche’s jeans. The lump moving under the denim as Porsche tried in vain to get away. Meadow groaned against her gag for him to stop.
“Now don’t be jealous, Meadow. Daddy’s got plenty for both of you. Yes, my girls are going to have a special night tonight. Let’s get away and I’ll find us a nice place for the night.”
Could she escape then? At some hotel? Surely, they couldn’t walk through a lobby bound and gagged. Unlike Freaky’s binds, she couldn’t break free and it was killing her as her arms were extended so far in front of her causing an ache in her arms.
Meadow tapped her foot on Porsche’s to get her attention now. Once the woman was paying attention, Meadow first pointed to the seatbelt lock she was free to press. Porsche shook her head no. And she was right, there was no point. She was still bound to the seat and Clive might notice the seatbelt being undone, but she couldn’t free her further without bringing about his rage.
Wherever he stopped with them would have to be their escape. The room where he promised to show them whose they were. Only Porsche was free and every bit of Meadow’s heart belonged to Freaky. Now beaten, she closed her eyes and prayed he hadn’t been killed because that would be the only way he wasn’t coming for her. If she’d learned nothing since meeting him, it was that he would come for her. His Dreamer.
18
Every muscle was on fire as Freaky attempted to move. His motivation simple. Follow Clive, kill Clive and save the women. The roar of motorcycle let him know the Blood Sport members were going after the money Clive had promised them. Meadow and Porsche be damned, they had one motivation, and it was green. Only they’d chosen the wrong horse, if Meadow’s word was to be believed, the man couldn’t keep a job for more than a few days and a dollar for more than sixty seconds. These men, like the women before them, had believed the lies.
His beaten and raw fingers stung as he reached inside his pocket and found his cell phone. The screen was cracked, but it still illuminated.
Pressing the center button, he said the best he could, “Call Hack.”
There was no answer.
Repeating the process, he tried the bosses Ol’ Lady. “Call Roadkill.”
“Call Roadkill is that correct?” the digital voice replied.
“Yes,” he held back the motherfucker he wanted to add, as he lay prone on the sidewalk and stared up at the clouds. Puffy and strangely shaped a tear trickled down the side of his face into his ear. At least, he hoped it was a tear as his mind wandered, a bit wonky as he imagined his Dreamer lying next to him. Her delicate finger showing how the cloud was the perfect outline of a deer or a bear or maybe even a dragon in her world of imagination.
“Freaky, oh my God, where are you?” Roadkill’s panicked voice help clear the haze from his eyes.
“A rest area,” he said, his side pinching with each breath. “Outside of Billings. I need help.”
“They should be pulling up shortly. Red and the rest rode out of here right after they got your text. They were heading down the freeway.”
“Okay, I’ve gotta go after them.” He rolled to the side. “Fuck me.”
“What’s going on?” Roadkill cried.
“Just a flesh wound,” he replied, finding the strength to move as the sound of motorcycles in the distance gave him a boost of adrenaline.
“Fuck you, Monty Python, what’s really going on?”
“Prepare the women for bad news, I’m still alive.” Rocking forward on his knees, he lifted one foot and pushed up. “Just need someone to check a few internal organs.”
“You’re not funny Freaky, how bad are you hurt?”
“Only slightly less then these sons-of-bitches are about to be.” Hanging up, he waved over Red, Hack, Cass, Baldy, Shark, and Hollywood as if they needed it in the abandoned rest area. Stumbling a bit, he got to his own bike and used it as a brace.
“Freaky, you must have found them,” Red stated with a hard you’re a fucking imbecile look on his face.
“Yeah, at least, I slowed them down a bit, they pulled out of here no more than ten minutes ago.”
“Ain’t got an exact time?” Red asked about to dismount.
Freaky held up a hand. “Let’s catch them first,” he said holding his hands wide. “Then you can play doctor with me. Come on, we both know you’ve been wanting to for a while.”
“I’d say the head injury should be enough to sideline him, but then how would we tell the difference,” Hollywood said. “He’s awake enough to be a smart ass.”
“You good to ride?” Red asked.
“Good enough.” Freaky turned over his motorcycle and the sweet hum of his baby was the last jolt he needed to block out the pain. Oh, he’d feel it in the morning, but right now he might as well have been shot full of morphine, oxy and given a fentanyl chaser.
Maybe it hadn’t been ten minutes or maybe the speedometer wasn’t lying when the stick bounced around a hundred. Thank God for Montana’s long straight roads. His belly tightened and clenched as a bitter taste splashed against the back of his throat, but all he could think about was saving Meadow while refusing his body its natural needs. Little things like, rest, an IV with real drugs, and possible stitches… both internal and external.
Their bikes were eating up the road and gaining on the little sedan with is motorcycle escort. In the back, the women were turning this way and that to get a good look at what was happening all around them.
Baldy went first, leveling his gun and shot the first tire on the bike of the Blood Sport member. The bike flew off the road and the driver rolled across the pavement like a marble tumbling and bouncing..
Freaky, Red and Hack dodged the debris and drove in front of the car. Forcing Clive to make a choice, slow down and pull over or speed up and try to ram the bikes. The asshole went for door number three. But this is Montana and you don’t step to a man’s door and not expect a gun under your throat.
The three Steels split the road as Red’s arm extended long as the shotgun pointed directly at the front tire of the car. Clive’s panicked face couldn’t believe what was happening and when he pressed the gas, a blast cut through the empty road as rubber stripped from the wheel like a dancer who just saw a stack of hundreds.
Sparks flew as the metal rim hit the pavement arching out with white heat as high pitched squeals came from the other tires while the car spun. Marks circular and dark forever changed the pristine highway as all the bikes slowed and Freaky’s heart stopped. Clenching harder in his chest than his fingers around the handle bars he was trying to control at the moment.
Meadow’s hair whipped in the backseat like a dervish as Clive tried to fight the losing battle for control of the vehicle. All of the motorcycles stayed far enough back to not be caught up, but close so they could rush to save the victims of the crash. Dear God, he knew Red had a plan, one that would save his woman, but had he considered the fact they were dealing with a narcissistic sociopath with a win at all costs mentality?
With each rotation of the car, Freaky feared the vehicle turning end over end, so when it hit a skid toward the ditch, he held his breath. Unsure if he’d go into his own skid if it flipped. The bikes were slowly coming to a stop when the trunk of the car slammed into the edge of a drainage ditch and finally came to a halt.
Through the now shattered windshield, he saw her. His Dreamer, her eyes like cattails, the sweet lost look in the everyday moments was gone. Alive and very aware of where she was and who she was looking at. The pair of them with swollen eyes. She hadn’t any marks at the rest stop which meant it was new. And not from the car wreck.
Rage exploded through his veins as his head swam.
“Get off your fucking bike,” Baldy’s voice caught him as he glanced to the left. The other Blood Sport member had pulled his bike off the road and kept his arms raised as Baldy approached him, gun drawn.
Freaky’s vision blurred, a bit of red floating in one eye, but that didn’t stop him from dismounting
and running toward the car.
Wrenching open the front door, Clive’s head was resting on the steering wheel from the impact as he tried to move. Grasping the back of his shirt, Freaky ripped him from the car and tossed him into the grass of the ditch. A small trickle of marshy water splashed when he made impact.
Porsche and Meadow climbed out of the car, each helping the other untie parts of their bindings then falling into a tearful hug as Meadow untied the gag from around Porsche’s mouth.
Clive scrambled, trying to get away as he crawled up the ditch on his hands and knees.
Freaky’s boot met the man’s face with extreme velocity, sending him backward and flat against the door of the sedan.
Knowing he had to take his cue from Meadow, he asked “What should I do to this one?”
Her bottom lip quivered and he even though he felt for her this was a decision only she could make. In his mind, the man deserved to be strung up, beaten and left for dead for a few days, then killed. But this was up to her. If he killed him, she would always question in her mind. Whether he did it in front of her or in secret, part of her would have the guilt of not stopping it.
“I’ll never be safe until he’s dead,” Meadow declared. “Porsche either.”
Porsche took Meadow’s hand in hers. Using the other to hold Meadow’s upper arm. Meadow struggled to lift the lid of her puffing eye, so both were wide and clear as she spoke the sweetest words. “I want him gone, gone.” And then she and Porsche ascended up the ditch taking the hands of Hollywood and Shark to guide them out as Baldy approached with a gun.
“I’m good,” Freaky said as sirens could be heard in the distance.
“Here and now,” Baldy said. “We don’t have time.”
“I’m good,” Freaky repeated pulling his Desert Eagle from his holster and pressing it to Clive’s skull.
The man leaned his head back then pushed forward as if the gun would somehow melt into his head. “At least I got to feel that sweet cunt one more time.”
Splattering of brain matter and blood surprised Freaky, he didn’t think the man had gray matter in his skull. Lord knows he didn’t act as if he did. The kickback from the gun shot a pain through Freaky’s shoulder and his trusty sidekick sent him backward like he was Chaos shooting a twelve gauge.
“Red,” Baldy yelled as the white puffy cloud above him coned his vision then disappeared along with all sounds, and sights. Only the feel of the metal in his hand grounded him to the world until even that was gone.
19
Meadow turned once she and Porsche were at the top of the ditch. Standing over the scene playing out as Freaky killed Clive. For some reason, it didn’t upset her. Maybe it was simply shock or better yet peace, for once in her life. There was no man lording over her. Not her father, not the man who she moved in with fresh from college. Only Freaky, the man who only tried to tag along when she wandered, not stop her. Tying her up in a way where she was freer than bound.
Then, right in front of her, Freaky’s legs buckled and he crumbled to the ground. The already bruised and beaten face he had now, pale and lifeless as she dropped to her knees at the top of the ditch.
Red yelled. “Get rid of that body now.”
She watched as Baldy and Hack threw Clive’s body into the trunk of the car and Shark found a water bottle to wash away as much of the blood as he could.
Red had climbed down to the ditch and began working on Freaky.
“Hollywood, how in the hell are we going to explain all this?” Baldy asked.
“They kidnapped Meadow and Porsche, all we did was stop them,” Hollywood answered Baldy. “I’m still trying to decide if I’m going to give them tweedled dumb over there, or if we should distribute justice.”
The men turned to the Blood Sport sitting on the side of the road like a good little puppy.
“But Clive?” Hack asked.
“Look, Baldy called Lil’ Bit and get the damn tow truck in route. Last thing the cops want is the paperwork of that shit,” Red said as he unzipped his medical bag and opened Freaky’s eyes to shine a light in them. “The car will be in our shop and we can deal with the corpse in the back. I need what’s on that ambulance, so we can’t pass up the help.”
What had she done to get these men into trouble? Was there a way she could help? She told them to kill Clive. It was her fault not Freaky’s. There had to be something she could do beside wring her wrists and act like a child.
“What happened here?” an officer approached and Hollywood slipped out his own badge, angling the man away from the scene.
Meadow’s heart was pounding out of her chest as she waited, unsure of what was about to happen. Would she be arrested? Would Freaky? The man was barely—tears turned into hard sobs as Red scrubbed an area on the back of his hand and started an IV. “Hey, we got an ETA on the damn medics,” he called up the ditch as Baldy stood guard by the car.
“Yeah, Officer Gentry said it’s about two minutes out,” Hollywood said. “He’s trying to set up a perimeter to see if he can find Clive. He did run east right?”
Hollywood pointed in a direction and soon, men were arguing over where the sun rose and the interstate codes. All in a distraction as the loud siren quieted with a honk and lights flashed in the ditch.
“The one up top is gone, send down a backboard and bring a neck brace,” Red called. “I’ve got an IV established and morphine onboard, but he took a beating and I’m worried about his internals.”
Two men with a long flat board made their way down in the ditch, slipping a bit on the fresh grass as they, with the assistance of Red and Hack, rolled Freaky onto the board. Shark and Cass stepped in to help carry Freaky up the hill and to the waiting gurney.
Meadow caught his hand dangling off the board and walked with them to the back of the ambulance. Cold and lifeless, her heart shattering with each step praying he would tighten is fingers around hers. Anything to show her he was still there. Deep in a dream, but knowing she was there. Even when they slept together if her hand slipped around his, he would hold her tighter. Now, nothing. The feeling was overwhelming her as she became numb.
“He’s alive,” Red assured her, keeping her out of the ambulance as he stepped with them and started digging through the supplies.
“Um, what do you need?” one of the medics asked.
“Ativan,” he said his eyes cutting to Meadow. “It’s gonna hit her and hit her hard. You heading to Billings or Red Lodge?”
“What’s Ativan?” she asked, but she’d been taken out of the conversation completely.
All she could do was place her hands on Freaky’s boots, her tears uncontrollable now as she leaned her head forward and pressed into the soles. Traction. She’d give anything to have his feet move back and forth like a kid. Had she really lost him that quickly? Hours, not even a full day had passed since they joked in the shower. “You still need to show me your new dance moves.”
She was ready to crawl into the back of the ambulance and hold onto him for the whole ride. Her world was shattering before her. It was as if someone had thrown a can of paint thinner over her still drying artwork. Everything had been falling in place and now, it melted into the pavement, the one a mix of concrete and blood. She’d been a fan of monochromes with a splash of color, now she would take a blade to any she might have.
“He’s stable enough to get to Billings, Doc?”
The conversation had continued without her.
“Yeah, but tell them he needs a full body CT, not just head. I’m not even sure where all he was hit.”
“Gotcha.” The man passed Red a vial and needle, then Red stepped out of the ambulance. “You following?”
“A few will, here’s my number have the doc in charge call me.” Red pulled her grip from Freaky’s shoes, his body a brace as the doors closed and Meadow’s legs wobbled.
Freaky disappeared in a flash of blue and red. The road empty ahead. No sirens needed.
Red’s arm was around her waist he
lping her to the ground. “Hey there Dreamer,” he said lifting her chin, but she couldn’t see the man directly in front of her.
“I’ve got her Red,” Porsche said coming to her side. “The police need a few minutes before we can leave.”
Several police cars continued rolling up and Meadow got caught in the fog. The dead Blood Sport member was covered and she saw the lookie loos on the other side of the road, but this side had been shut down.
When Hack and Cass got back on their motorcycles, nobody seemed to notice them. They immediately fit into the crowd that had surrounded the accident scene of the motorcycles and the Blood Sport member who was dead. The other, the Creep sat unmoving from the place he’d been told to stay. His head bowed low as the remaining Steels took turns standing by him.
A yellow flash of lights had Baldy waving over a tow truck driven by Lil’ Bit. The police moved people around, so they could hook the car and get it out of the ditch.
“Anything I need to know?” Lil’ Bit asked her husband.
“If you accidentally scrape or poke a hole that causes a leak, no one would be mad.”
“We leaking somewhere else?” she asked.
“Maybe,” Baldy replied and she slipped down into the ditch and under the car with the hook.
“Dr. Luke,” a female officer approached, her eyes cutting down to Meadow. “Hard Road?”
“Not officially,” he replied.
“How much do we need to cover?” she asked.
Meadow tried to push through her muddled brain to understand what was going on.
“Who are we going after?”
“What’s the Hard Road again?” Meadow asked Porsche.
“The rescues, it’s the website, that cop must be part of it.”
“So, Freaky won’t be in trouble? I didn’t destroy his life?”
“No,” Porsche said taking Meadow’s head in her hands. “And you gave me and you a chance to live.”
Dreamer: Book 7 of The Steel MC Montana Charter Page 20
