Chrome & Leather: Liars Tomb (Motorcycle Club Romance)

by Deep Pink

  Bang after bang rocked throughout the coffin as the dirt was shovelled in. The sound then changed as the coffin became covered in a layer of soil. No longer did Pikes ears ring with the cadence of each explosive crash of dirt. Each shovelful of dirt made a soft TWUMP! sound as it was thrown into the grave.

  Pike stopped trashing and ran his fingers back and forth over the lid of the coffin, searching for any tiny seam that he could wedge his fingers under. Everything felt smooth to the touch. Ridiculous escape plans flitted through his mind, scenes from B movies he had seen as a child where the hero had punched his way out of a grave and then pulled himself up through the sodden earth like a monster from a fairytale. His mind clung to the one fact of the situation, they wanted him alive. Why else would they leave a sizeable pipe sticking up, if not to let him continue to breathe.

  Pike tried to steady his breathing in an attempt to calm himself. His chest felt like it was bound in steel and lifting his hand to the coffin lid took a mammoth amount of effort. His whole body shivered as it was drenched in a cold acidic sweat. He focused on the small circle of sky above him and tried his best to calm himself.

  The last clod of earth was thrown into the grave and the brothers tamped down the soil with the back of their shovels. The grey metal pipe stuck up from the ground to around waist height of the men standing around.

  Blackjack walked over to the pipe and peered down into the coffin. Pike looked so very distant to him, he was not a man anymore and had been reduced to a rat trapped in a box.

  "Why did you do it" Blackjack asked, "The time for bullshit is over".

  Pike tried to modulate his voice to try and sound as calm as possible. It didn't work and his voice calm out cracked and broken.

  "I did it for us. I did it for the gang. Please Blackjack get me out of here. Let me make it up to you. Ill bring you The Mans head on a stick. Please let me out of here," he said as he began to cry again.

  "That's not good enough. Remember this face, it's the last thing you are ever going to see," Blackjack said as he walked away.

  Pikes worst fears were confirmed. They were going to leave him here to die a slow painful death. All thoughts of escape left him and he trashed around kicking and screaming until his lungs burned.

  "A sandstorm is coming for you Blackjack. It is going to swallow you whole" Pike roared at the top of his lungs.

  Pike scratched at the roof of his wooden prison, two of his finger nails sheared off from the force of his efforts. He left trails of blood as he continued to slam his fists uselessly against the lid.

  Pike froze and his body went as rigid as tempered steel when the first few drops of liquid poured from the pipe and dripped onto his forehead. It ran down the side of his head and some beads gathered in his ears. His nose burnt with the smell as the brother standing atop the grave tipped the large canister forward.

  The gasoline poured out of the pipe onto Pikes face, burning the lining of his nose and he coughed and spluttered as he swallowed some. He turned away as it continued to flow. It drenched him, soaking into his clothes and pooling at the end of the coffin due to a slight tilt.

  Pike coughed and choked and his mind would still not let him grasp his situation. It would still not face the grim finality of what awaited him. He still believed he could some how escape like some sort of muscled super hero.

  Click! The noise filled the coffin. It was the noise of a thousand demons beating on the door, the sound of the grim reaper sharpening his scythe. It was the noise of a lighter being lit.

  Pike looked at his tiny porthole to the outside world his eyes wide in shock. A hand crossed over his field of view and dropped a burning lighter into the hole. It spun and the last thing Pike saw was an image of a skull engraved on the back of the lighter. The lighter twirled and spun as it fell, its yellow flickering flame holding steady. The lighter landed on pikes head with a clunk and slid off.

  Pike thought "It's gone out", and then his world turned to heat and flame and suffering.

  The flames engulfed his body, hair and flesh melted in the intense heat. Pike screamed in agony as his lungs where burnt from the inside.

  A gout of flame shot out of the pipe and into the air. The watching men stood back. Blackjack fixed his eyes on the pipe, his face a mask of stoic resolve. He felt like his feet where embedded in the earth.

  Thick black smoke spewed from the pipe as the flames within the coffin receded.

  Blackjack felt spent and weary. When he was younger violence used to get him hard. Now any time he had to mete out punishment it made him feel weary and old. When was the same fate going to come to him. He had done some horrible things, mostly to people who he felt deserved it. It could weigh on him sometime, the life he had chosen.

  Pike had been a good man and someone that Blackjack thought had a real chance to rise up the ranks. Now he was nothing more the a charred corpse in an unmarked grave in some backwoods cabin. Was the same fate awaiting Blackjack? Was someone in his gang right now planning his downfall? He needed a drink and some time to relax or else these doubts would drive him crazy.

  "I'm heading back to the ranch. You and the brothers meet me at the usual place noon tomorrow" Blackjack said to Red.

  Red nodded and watched Blackjack as he walked away. Red had seen him like this before, the hunched shoulders and the cold dead look on his face. Red didn't like it when Blackjack got like this as things could get ugly. The last time he was like this they had gone on a rampage and killed every member of a rival gang. Blackjack always fell into the pattern of dealing out more and more violence in a steadily increasing spiral of horror after something like today. He was like a junkie looking for another high. It could make him reckless. Red would need to keep an eye on him.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Linda clung on tight to Blackjack as the bike sped away from the liars tomb. She had heard the screams and seen the black clouds of smoke billowing up from behind the shack. She knew that Blackjack had a reputation for dealing swift and final justice to anyone that crossed him. He was clever and he had kept her well away from seeing anything that went on. All she could get him on was the possibility of an accessory to murder, small potatoes and not worth pursuing. She wanted to take down Blackjack and his whole crew and put them away for as long as possible. If some of them got an appointment with the electric chair she would have done her job.

  Blackjack had said to her that they were going to the ranch for the night. Linda's files on the gang had been pretty lacking on any kind of actionable information. She knew that the gang held several of these so called ranches at once. They switched up between them seemingly at random and then without warning they would torch them and hang out somewhere new. This gang didn't follow the usual gang structure of having one main clubhouse that they hung out in. Blackjacks gang moved constantly and left a trail of burnt out buildings behind them. She suspected that they didn't torch the country shack because they had some other snitches to dispose of.

  The bike banked smoothly as it turned into a long smooth curve. Linda rested her head against Blackjack and held him tightly. She knew she would have to seduce him as quickly as possible if she wanted to stay by his side. The only line on his file under the heading "other", scrawled in shaky block letters was; "He likes to fuck black women".

  The soothing noise of the bikes engine and the hum of the tires on the asphalt relaxed Linda and she began to doze slightly as she rested her head against him. She jerked awake as the bike went over a ramp in the road and she rubbed her eyes as the bike sped up again. They were on a small dirt road flanked by wide open fields. The road was at a gentle incline and at the top of the hill stood the ranch. The house had clearly seen better days, it was of a style that was popular fifty years ago. Shutters hung broken from the windows. Piles of empty beer cans were strewn across the front porch and broken glass twinkled in the large unkempt lawn. Parked outside were six or seven motorbikes.

  Even before they pulled to a stop outside Linda could hear the mu
sic playing at ear busting levels from inside. She could hear men shouting and laughing from inside one of the front rooms. Blackjack slowed the bike to a stop and kicked out the stand. As Linda dismounted the bike every fibre of her body shouted to run from this place. This is were her training kicked in, it was normal to feel fear, it was how she dealt with it that mattered. She pushed it down inside readying herself for whatever was next. Blackjack looked back at her and a momentary look of confusion crossed his face.

  "Are you ok?" he asked.

  She had frozen to the spot without even realising. Linda looked up at him as she could feel a genuine sense of fear and panic bubble up from below. Fuck she thought to herself, I'm going to blow this before the operation has even begun.

  Blackjacks face softened as he realised what was going on. He reached out to Linda to take her hand.

  "Don't worry about these guys. We can go somewhere a bit more private if you don't want to be around anyone," he said with genuine warmth.

  The reality of the situation snapped back for Linda and she pushed all fear and doubt away. She was a professional, a bad ass cop,and this is what she does best she told herself only believing some of it. Self doubt has no place here. There will be plenty of time for that once she has all these scumbags in jail.

  "Sorry, my husband, I mean my ex... last night came back to me. It was the mens shouts. They scared me," she said her voice cracking slightly at the end.

  "You are with me now and no one will ever hurt you again. I will make sure of that" he said squeezing her hand for emphasis.

  Against her better judgement she believed him, for such a legendary figure, whose deeds of violence where whispered tales of horror on the streets he sure seemed to have a softer side. Linda thought that in another life he probably could of made an ordinary woman very happy. His intense sincerity, while almost naive in its strength was hypnotising. Linda felt a tightness in her throat and her palms tingled against his touch. She believed him when he said no one could ever hurt her again. She would cynically leverage this against him.

  They enter the house and the first thing that hits Linda is the smell, stale beer and an underlying stench of rotten garbage. Empty beer cans are strewn about the floor and whole chunks of what was once an expensive carpet were ripped up from the floor. Everybody turns to greet Blackjack when he enters. Curt nods are passed back and forth.

  A pool table is set up and two burly and heavily tattooed men are playing, they pause for a few seconds to acknowledge Blackjacks presence. Nobody pays Linda any attention or seems curious at her presence.

  Two blonde women are collapsed and entangled on a dirty brown couch set in front of a make shift bar made from some crates and shipping pallets. Judging by the women's sluggish movements Linda thought that they were both drugged. Her files on motorbike gangs had page upon page about the gangs snatching and drugging young women and basically keeping them as sex slaves until they got fed up with them. These women usually ended up reported missing and never found alive again. These fuckers will pay vowed Linda.

  "When the fuck do we strike back" said one of the pool playing bikers. A thick and well chewed cigar hung from the corner of his mouth, "This can not go unchallenged".

  "Our moment of vengeance will be soon. We will strike back hard and fast. We will show no weakness or mercy to the scum that started this," said Blackjack. His physical presence seemed to swell as he spoke.

  All the men stopped what they were doing and listened to him speak. Linda could see the respect that his crew had for him. He had proven himself time and again as a strong and powerful leader and after the attack at the bar he needed to reassert his dominance.

  "Let me promise this to you men, by nightfall tomorrow we will have our revenge on the cowards who attacked me. We have already dealt with the rat who walked among us. Let me tell you his end was slow and painful."

  Some of the gathered men nodded at this last part, satisfied at the horrible end their former brother met, many of them imagined an end that did not quite meet the horror of the real situation.

  Blackjack pointed at the two men playing pool and said "You two stay outside on watch, four hour shifts and then switch. We can't be too careful".

  The two burly men nodded and picked up guns from atop the makeshift bar. One armed himself with a shotgun and another with a high powered semi automatic rifle.

  "Don't disturb me," Blackjack said to the remaining gang as he lead Linda upstairs.

  The base of the stairs was locked by a steel gate with a large padlock on it. Access to the second floor was completely blocked by a steel cage with thick solid bars. Blackjack took a small brass key from a leather pouch around his neck and opened the lock. Once through he locked it behind himself and Linda.

  "This floor is my own private sanctuary. No one will disturb us up here."

  "I feel safe around you," Linda said in a whispered tone and reached out to take his hand.

  His hand engulfed hers and radiated warmth into hers. She could see why he was a leader and the alpha male of this group. He exuded strength and a pure unfettered masculinity. He could be hard and cruel when it was needed but she could see that the men did not follow him out of fear, they followed him out of respect. A respect she imagined was hard earned in the unforgiving culture of motorcycle gangs.

  At the top of the stairs stood two doors both made of thick tempered steel. Linda had seen similar doors in back room money counting areas in Vegas. These doors could take sustained damage from gunfire. She had even seen one stand up to a grenade in a heist gone wrong. The hapless thieves had thrown it against the door and when the grenade went off the door repelled the blast and the shock wave rebounded killing one of the thieves and seriously injuring the other. Linda had found that some criminals were just plain dumb and as stupid as it seemed, some of them tried to copy shit that they had seen in some big budget hollywood action flick. She knew that Blackjack wasn't one of these, he was clever and calculating and nothing like the stereotype of the dumb biker.

  Blackjack unlocked the door furthest from the stairs, using the same key as the entrance to the steel cage. Once he and linda were in the room he relocked it behind him. Linda jumped at the noise of the heavy bolt being drawn across the door. It was the sound of a jail cell closing, of a place of no escape.

  Blackjack wrapped his arms around her from behind and drew her in close and gently kissed her neck. Linda stiffened a little and resisted surprised at the speed of his advances.

  "Sorry, I can't get my husband out of my mind. Every time I shut my eyes I see him looming over me like a savage beast. At those moments he was a different man, he seemed more like an animal. I was a fool for staying with him so long."

  Blackjack locked eyes with her with an intensity she had never felt before. It was if he was trying to tell her that he would take away all her pain and heartache, that he was going to be strong enough for both of them.

  He pulled her close in a warm embrace and she buried her bruised and beaten face into his neck. Tears stung her eyes as she allowed herself to be engulfed in his embrace. His arms where like bands of steel around her holding her and absorbing and taking away her pain.

  He ran his hands along her back and Linda felt a spark of excitement run through her body. Although her tears were fake and all part of the plan to ensnare Blackjack, her bodies reaction was not. It was betraying her as she felt her whole presence tingle under his touch.

  He ran his hands along the back of her neck and it made Linda go weak at the knees. She was nearly swooning at the sensation of his rough palms stroking the soft flesh of her neck.

  Linda's training had prepared her for having to use her body when she was undercover. Some agents faired better at it then others, some where left with deeper emotional scars from the sex then from the violence they witnessed. Linda knew how to fake it but the way her body felt now with him only stroking her neck, she knew no faking would be necessary.

  Blackjacks body felt tight and muscular
against hers and she could feel a warm and insistent throbbing against her.

  She sighed gently against his neck as his hands glided over her back, feeling every notch of her spine and stroking her neck in tingly motions. Her tears began to stop and her whole body was buzzing from anticipation.

  They drew back from the embrace and stared into each others eyes. An unspoken promise seemed to jump whole and fully formed from Blackjacks gaze into hers, I am your protector now, you are safe with me, it said. Linda believed it even as a small part of her mind buried deep in the back shouted at her to be careful, not to get too close to this man. Protect yourself from him it screamed. It was a tiny voice shouting from the bottom of a well.

  Time froze around them in the moment before the kiss. Blackjack was surprised about the intensity of his feeling towards her. He only knew her less than a day and already he couldn't get her off his mind. Maybe it was the way that they had meet, being such a high intensity situation or maybe it was something else. Either way he was more than just intrigued by her, he already felt like he knew her. He needed to be with her and in this very moment nothing would get in his way.

  The air around them felt charged and static as they moved in to kiss. Every detail of Blackjacks broad and handsome face was evident to Linda. The tiny scar above his left eye, the slight crinkle of lines around his eyes as he looked at her, the bristle of stubble on his chin and the tiny flecks of colour in his eyes. She could stare at his face for a millennia.

  As they drew closer the moment of sweet abandon was broken by a loud and bellowing shout from downstairs.