by Nikki Groom
Wolves.
“Fuck,” Ramsey yells, as he jerks the bike to the side. “Hold on tight, Raven.”
He pulls full throttle, pushing his bike to her absolute limits. I risk a glance behind us to see The Wolves have spun their bikes around and are now heading in our direction.
Not for the first time, there’s three, very angry, very pissed off, extremely dangerous bikers on our tail. Ram pulls off the lesser-traveled road and onto the road which leads right into town. This means more of the general public, pedestrians, and road users alike, which makes it less likely that The Wolves will do anything, right?
Ram sounds his horn as we drive past a strip of small independent stores, and I spot two police officers coming out of a coffee bar. I tap Ram on the shoulder and point in their direction. I don’t know if this is a ridiculous thing to do or not. I mean, Ramsey is an outlaw biker. He treads mostly on the wrong side of the law, and although my first instinct is to turn to the police for help, his is probably the opposite. To my surprise, he pulls the bike across two lanes of traffic, making my heart beat harder, faster, and louder, and not in a good way, as cars screech to a halt and sound their horns.
One of the police officers takes a bite of his donut and nods casually to Ram. “Still causing trouble, Dalton?” As he speaks, The Wolves ride the white line right down the middle of the lanes of traffic and come right for us. The officer’s mouth drops open, showing half-chewed sugary dough, and his takeaway coffee cup falls from his fingers, spilling on the ground by his feet.
“Time to earn your pocket money, boys. Don’t want them following us outta here, got it?” Ram orders, and I scrunch my brow.
“Yes, sir,” the other officer answers and immediately draws his gun from his holster. The second officer follows his lead as we pull away and a series of shots ring out behind us.
“What the fuck is going on back there?” I screech over the roar of Ram’s engine.
“Payroll, babe.”
“What?”
“Payroll!” He laughs, deep and loud, and as we pull away from the danger, I laugh with him.
This life is both exhilarating and exhausting, and I can see why he would choose it. The danger is real, the threat severe, but the thrill …man, the thrill is bigger and better than I could have ever imagined.
Back at the Steel Souls HQ, the bar area is busy as usual, and I wonder if this place ever sleeps. Dev is behind the bar and gives me a tight nod as Ramsey seats me on top of a high stool before taking JJ aside and discussing something that has them both frowning and JJ rubbing his forefinger and thumb along his temples. He glances back and forth between Ramsey and me, and his scrutiny makes me very uneasy. It’s weird. He doesn’t look mean. He doesn’t seem fierce, or reckless, or even loud and domineering, as I would imagine an outlaw to be. But he gives off a very powerful vibe of calm, calculated danger, and to me, that’s the worst kind.
Ramsey claps him on the shoulder and comes back to me, staking his claim by unapologetically taking my lips with his—a display of possession in front of all his biker brothers. I don’t know why he feels he needs to prove to everyone that I’m his. It’s pretty obvious, and I’m certainly not interested in anyone else. I’ve never had such an intense pull to someone like I have to Ramsey, and I don’t intend letting go for anything.
“Drink?” he asks, taking the stool next to mine.
“Nah, I’m good.”
“I know that, baby, oh do I know that.” He winks.
“Hey.” I laugh and smack his shoulder, feeling my cheeks color.
“What? Don’t be shy, my Sadie girl. You gotta own what you do to me,” he teases, slipping his hand around the back of my neck and pulling me closer to kiss me again.
“Oh, I will,” I whisper against his lips, finding the part of my head that contains my boldness and giving back a bit of sass. He groans, throwing his head back, and I laugh to myself as all of the bikers make a whipping sound amongst whoops and hollers suggesting that Ramsey is pussy-whipped. I sit straighter on my stool and cock my head, watching him with a smile that dances from my cheeks to my toes.
Dev places a shot of something clear in front of Ramsey, and I catch a rare glimpse of a smile—it’s small and unassuming, but it’s definitely there, touching the corners of his lips and crinkling the edges of his eyes. He winks at me, and Ram gladly takes up the shot with a laugh.
“Yeah, yeah,” he calls out above the jeers. “I can take it. You’re all just jealous,” he remarks, eliciting another round of cheers and cries of ‘too right’. “Back to your drinks and your own women.”
The crowd, which seems to have grown in the last couple of minutes, goes back to a dull mumble in the background as Ramsey watches me closely, not letting my gaze drop from his for even a split second. “See what you’re doing?” he asks, huskiness lingering in his tone.
I smile. “Yes, I see.”
“Wanna get out of here?” He hops off his stool and grabs my hand in his.
“Sure.”
We exit the bar, leaving behind more cheers and wolf whistles, and I can’t help but have a bounce in my step. The camaraderie and tight-knit feel of the Steel Souls brothers and their wives is intense. It’s unapologetic, violent at times, and pretty damn explosive, but it feels like a raucous version of The Waltons. It’s clear, that whether they’re fighting between themselves or laughing after a few drinks, there’s a bond that’s unbreakable. Bound by soul not blood, and in some respects, it’s a more honest connection.
“Do you have somewhere in mind or can we stop by a friend’s place?” I ask as Ramsey fastens his bike helmet on me.
“Where do you wanna go, Raven?”
“I should’ve told you before, but then the guy at the park happened, and the rest of the shit that went down and—”
“What?” he interrupts.
“I was up at Reno Range the other day, you know, when you let me have your van. Something wasn’t right when I left. Mac was acting weird, and there were a couple of bikes there when I left belonging to The Wolves.”
“Hang on.” He props his hands on his hips. “Why were you at the range?”
I frown. “What does anyone do at the range?” I shrug. “I was shooting.”
“Okay …” He thinks for a minute. “What wasn’t right?”
“Mac. He was nervous, wouldn’t tell me what was going on or who was there to see him, and then when I left, I saw their bikes and The Wolves logo. I drove off pretty quick because I didn’t want them to recognize your van and come after me.”
“You should have told me,’ he snaps, swinging his leg over and dropping onto his bike. He starts the engine up with a roar and pulls away out of the gates at top speed. I hold on tightly around his waist feeling unsure about his reaction. Maybe I shouldn’t have told him this at all, or maybe I should have just remembered to tell him sooner. But rescuing a young girl and having to dump the body of a pedophile kinda overshadowed everything.
Ram swings onto the gravel track that leads up to the range, but the gate is shut with a huge chain draped around it and locked with a solid padlock. He jumps off, glancing back at me with a very uneasy expression, holding his hand up, indicating I’m to stay on the bike. He rattles the chain, but it’s securely fastened. Then he steps back, draws his gun and shoots at the lock. It hits with a ping, but barely even makes a dent.
“Fuck,” Ramsey yells, yanking on the chain and cursing out his frustrations. He strides back to the bike. “Get off.”
I don’t argue and hop off fast before he pulls it into the brush at the side of the track and parks it out of sight from anyone that might be passing. “C’mere.” He holds out his hand and leads me past the bike, pushing our way through the undergrowth and up a steep, gravelly climb. “You go ahead,” he tells me, indicating a way up.
“I don’t have a good feeling about this, Ram,” I tell him over my shoulder as he follows me closely up the hill. “Mac never locks the gates. What if—”
&nbs
p; “We won’t know anything until we get there, Raven. Just move your ass.” He points above us and follows closely behind me as I move nervously, giving me a guiding hand on my butt cheek when my feet slip down the shingle covering. When we get to the top, I dust myself off, and Ramsey takes my face in his hands. “Stay focused, be ready, and whatever you do, stay behind me. Got it?”
I nod nervously, and as we approach the shooting range, my heart beats faster and harder. The gravel parking lot is empty—even Mac’s truck is gone, and the range door is locked, which is what I expected, but when we get to Mac’s office the tension wraps its bony claws around my neck and nearly chokes me. Ramsey presses his finger to his lips, telling me not to make a sound, and draws his gun from the back of his jeans, readying himself for what we might find. He tries to look in the window, but the blinds are shut, then he takes a deep breath before turning the door handle. He pushes it open, and it slams against the plasterboard wall behind.
“Oh, shit,” I whisper, eyeing the mess that lies waiting for us in Mac’s office.
“Looks like someone came looking for something,” Ram notes, stepping in and treading over a sea of broken glass and torn papers. Mac’s display cabinet resembles nothing more than splintered wood and shards of glass. Every drawer, every file, every single item of Mac’s office has been torn out and wrecked.
“Mac doesn’t have anything that anyone would want. Why would someone do this? He’s as honest as the day is long.” I hang my head in disbelief.
“Is he?” Ram asks.
“Yes. He is.” I snap defensively. “You couldn’t meet a nicer guy than Mac.”
“Being nice doesn’t make you honest, Raven. I never said he was bad. Sometimes the bad shit finds the good people.” Ramsey grows quiet and contemplative for a second and strokes my arms as he treads past. He pushes some of the torn papers from the desk and kicks some of the mess aside on the floor. There’s nothing to say what’s happened here, or who did this, but it’s hanging in the air, like a bad smell that no one wants to admit to. I don’t want it to be true for several reasons: if Mac’s in trouble with The Wolves, he could very well be dead, and if this really is true, after seeing them here the other day, I could have stopped this happening if I had just told Ramsey sooner.
“Is there anywhere else Mac could be?” Ram asks, taking a glance out of the open door to make sure we’re still alone.
“I don’t know, he doesn’t have any family, at least, I don’t think he has any family.” I stop to think about what I do know. Which, to my sadness, is very little. Mac spent hours listening to me, and talking to me, taking an interest in my life, but I never thought to ask him more about himself. I should have asked him more. Now that I think back, he always looked tired, and his shoulders were always a little rounded like he was carrying a burden, and I could have helped him. I should’ve helped him.
I stomp through the broken glass and torn papers to the back of the office to check Mac’s bedroom, muttering to myself as I go, focused on one thing now: Revenge.
“Where are you going?” Ramsey grabs my arm, yanking me back.
“I’m checking his bedroom,” I snap through gritted teeth, yanking myself from his grasp.
“His bedroom?” Ram questions, “No you’re fucking not.” He grabs me again, almost yanking me backward off my feet.
“Fuck you, Ramsey.” I pound my fist on his shoulder as he forces himself in front of me and boulders his way into Mac’s bedroom. I’m incensed, enraged, scared, hurt, and overwhelmingly guilty at what might have happened to Mac, and it comes out in a torrent of expletives all aimed into Ramsey’s back—until I see what lies on the other side of the bedroom door.
Ramsey’s arm shoots out in front of me, trying to push me back into the office. Trying, but failing, to stop me seeing what I had dreaded was true.
“Mac.” His name slides from my trembling lips in a broken whisper as I drop to my knees and crawl to his bloodied, lifeless body.
“Sadie,” Ramsey says quietly, placing his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t …”
“It’s my fault,” I say, as a tear drops from my lashes and onto Mac’s now disfigured face. He’s been viciously beaten. His white beard is darkened with dried blood, his eyes swollen shut, most of his teeth knocked clean from his mouth, and his head caved in on one side making him almost unrecognizable—but not to me. “I’m so sorry, Mac. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here to help you.” My sobs grow louder and more uncontrollable as the tears fall freely, and I whisper my apologies to a man who can no longer hear me—a man who was nothing but good to me. “I will find out who did this, and I will make them pay, do you hear me, Mac?” I push at his chest, screaming my promises.
“Come on,” Ramsey crouches down beside me and pulls me tightly into his arms. I cry into him, all the while resting my hand on Mac’s chest.
“He was one of the good guys,” I sob, and Ramsey tucks me closer into him, forcing me to release my hold on Mac’s shirt. “I should have stopped it.”
“There was nothing you could have done. Do you hear me? Old Mac obviously got himself into a corner with The Wolves. Hey.” He holds me by my shoulders and pushes my body away so he can look at me. I glance up at him through tear-stained lashes and blurry eyes. “I will find out what went on here, and I will sort it out, okay?”
“This is my battle, Ram. I don’t—”
“This is not your battle. This was Mac’s battle, and he knew where to come if he had a problem. This is not your fault. Hear me, Raven?”
“What?” I frown, pushing his arms away.
“This is not your fault,” he repeats.
“Not that part, you said he knew where to come if he had a problem.” I stand up straighter, the fighter in me pushing through the grief.
Ramsey sighs and drops his gaze. “Look, now isn’t the time or place to—”
“Tell me,” I yell.
“We knew Mac. The Steel Souls knew Mac. He had supplied us guns and ammo in the past.”
“You knew him, and you didn’t make sure he was safe? He had guns, ammo, and access to loads of shit and you didn’t think he would be a target for The Wolves? Especially if they knew you had dealings with him in the past …”
“He was a grown-ass man with enough savvy to look out for himself, Sadie. It wasn’t my job to babysit him.”
“Clearly, you’re wrong!” I yell, pointing to Mac’s dead body behind me. I shove at Ramsey’s chest, pushing past him, kicking everything out of my way and taking myself out of this oxygen-sucking situation.
Outside, the air smells clean, making me realize how pungent the rotting smell of death is. The birds chirp and tweet as if the world hasn’t just been changed, which it hasn’t in any major form, but mine has. Everything about my world is changing, for good, for bad, and the only thing I know for sure is that it’s messing with my sanity, and I’m not sure I know which way is up anymore.
“Sadie, wait up.” Ramsey’s boots crunch on the gravel drive, getting closer behind me.
“I want you to take me home,” I say.
“Fine, I’ll take you anywhere you want to go, but will you goddamn do as you’re told and stop and listen to me.”
I stop dead with my back to him, letting him catch up to me, and he comes to stand right in front of me in my face. “I’m only gonna say this once, Sadie. What happened to Mac, wasn’t my fault—it wasn’t your fault, and there was fuck-all either of us could have done about it. I will not let you walk away from me because of what you think I did or didn’t do here. I won’t let you walk away from me for anything. So you had better get that into your head.” He taps his index finger on the side of my temple. With a stern glance, he turns on his heel and leaves me standing there as he walks down the drive. Again, I find myself fighting back tears. Fighting emotions in such huge quantities that relentlessly push and punish me, and for what, I don’t know. Haven’t I been punished enough, all my life?
“Ramsey,” I call out after him, and I c
an see him shaking his head, but he keeps on walking. “Ramsey please,” I cry.
He stops and turns, cocking his head and scrubbing his hand over the scruff on his chin. His chest rises and falls heavily, bearing the weight of so much pain, so much anger, and now my accusations to burden him on top of all that. I start to walk toward him, unable to bear even the smallest distance between us. His stance loosens, and he walks toward me too, closing the gap and repairing the damage that my words might have done.
“I’m sorry,” I say, sliding my arms around his waist and nestling my head into his chest. It takes a couple of seconds before he responds but then his arms tighten around my shoulders, and he rests his cheek on the top of my head.
“There was nothing we could have done, Raven. It’s just life, death, fate.” He shrugs. “It is what it is. We just have to deal with what we have left.”
“I know.” I nod. “I’m sorry I said I blamed you. I don’t blame you.”
“I will find out what happened, Sadie, okay?”
“Okay.” I look up at him, and not for the first time, I don’t feel so lost anymore. His touch, his presence, his gentle or sometimes not so gentle, reassurances speak a language that only I hear. “But I can’t leave him here, like that.” My bottom lip quivers and Ramsey captures it gently between his thumb and forefinger.
“I’ve got it covered. Tex is on his way.” He reassures me and halts my cries of sorrow with a tender, heart rendering kiss. From every situation we’ve been put under in the last few days, there has come a tender moment I never knew was possible. Good from bad. Life from death.
Chapter 22
While we wait for Tex to show up at the shooting range, I stand with Sadie wrapped in my arms, rubbing her back to soothe the little hiccups she lets out while trying to stifle her cries. Mac was her friend. I feel fucking bad for that. But he must have gotten into something shady, and after knowing that Sadie saw The Wolves’ bikes at the range just a few days before, I’d put money on his blood being all over their hands.
