Riding Dirty

by Jill Sorenson

  “Anything.”

  Dimebag used Cole’s knife to cut a strip from Mia’s torn skirt and blindfold her. Cole watched with flared nostrils, his blood pumping. He was in demolition mode, full of adrenaline. Saving her was his main priority. If he had to tear a man apart with his teeth to do it, he would. He’d bite into a jugular without flinching.

  Bill got behind the wheel and Dimebag sat passenger. Gonzo tucked his gun away and settled into the space next to Cole.

  “How did you find us?” Cole asked.

  “Bill told me you used to do drug deals at the abandoned Laundromat,” Gonzo said. “We could tell someone had been there, so we kept looking. When we spotted one of Jigsaw’s bikes, we knew you were at that hippie hotel. We just had to wait for you to come out.”

  Cole shouldn’t have been surprised that his uncle had led Gonzo here to kill him. Although it was exactly what he’d expected, it still hurt. He fell silent as they drove north, away from civilization and into the remote area of Big Morongo Canyon. After a few minutes, his breathing returned to normal and he started to calm down. Maybe they’d let Mia live if Cole didn’t give them any more trouble. She was blindfolded for a reason. They didn’t want her to describe this location to the cops, or bring them back to it.

  When they arrived at the base of a box canyon, it was dark. Bill parked the vehicle and got out with Dimebag, leaving the headlights on. Gonzo exited also, bringing Cole with him. They left Mia in the backseat, bound and blindfolded.

  Cole wanted to say something to her—I love you sprang to mind—but he couldn’t form the words. Not here, with his killers listening in. She had enough tragic memories. Cole didn’t need to pile on more.

  The men walked about twenty feet in front of the SUV and stopped. Cole had lost his shoes in the melee, and the terrain hurt his feet. His mouth was swollen; his jaw throbbed. There was dried blood on his chin and neck.

  “Did you tell your uncle that Dimebag said we’d been involved in a home invasion?” Gonzo asked.

  Cole nodded.

  “You’re a fucking liar,” Dimebag growled. “I never said that.”

  “Dimebag didn’t tell you,” Gonzo said. “Who did?”

  “No one.”

  Gonzo’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe I should bring your girlfriend out here. Give you some incentive to answer.”

  “It’s not a secret that you do home invasions,” Cole said. “I did a search online.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t like you. I don’t like your shitty club. I don’t like your racist associates, and I don’t want to be allies. I was digging for information about my brother and trying to convince my uncle to cut ties with you.”

  Gonzo shook his head in wonder. “This collaboration is the only reason you survived Chino, you dumb fuck. You were too stupid to join AB for protection, so Bill had to come to me. Without our arrangement, you’d have been shanked the first week.”

  Cole glanced at his uncle, who didn’t dispute this story. Maybe it was true. Cole hadn’t joined the Aryan Brotherhood during his first stint in prison either, but he’d done time in a smaller facility, where his size and reputation had been enough to deter attackers. Chino was a hellhole, full of violent offenders. His uncle’s deal with White Lightning might have been the difference between life and death.

  Knowing that his uncle had done so much to protect Cole didn’t change the fact that Bill was here now to kill him. It made Cole feel worse about the situation, and guiltier about agreeing to be an informant. But he couldn’t go back and change his decision. As always, he’d made his own bed.

  “This is how you repay your uncle?” Gonzo asked. “By working with the cops and running off with a whore?”

  “She’s not a whore,” Cole said through clenched teeth. “And I didn’t give the cops shit.”

  “I guess it’s just a coincidence that undercover officers started following Dimebag right after he ran into you.”

  “I think we should smoke this motherfucker,” Dimebag said.

  “If I was working with the cops, why would I be hiding out here?” Cole asked.

  Gonzo ignored this question. “Did the cops tell you about the home invasion? Do they know something new?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Get his bitch,” Gonzo said. “Drag her out here.”

  “No,” Cole said, his pulse pounding. “I’ll talk.”

  “You’d better hurry.”

  “I’m an informant,” he said, aware that he was sealing his own doom. “I told the cops that Dimebag was selling meth after our scuffle. They wanted more specific information, but I wouldn’t give it to them.”

  His uncle didn’t seem surprised by this news. He appeared devastated, however.

  Dimebag drew the knife Cole had been carrying earlier and held it to Cole’s throat. “Let me kill this fucking rat.”

  Bill flinched at the sight, but said nothing. He might have defended Cole from these men under different circumstances. Now that Cole had admitted to being an informant, all bets were off. No one ratted on the president of an outlaw club and lived to tell about it. Cole closed his eyes, feeling the hot pinch of the blade on his skin. Steeling himself for death.

  Instead of giving Dimebag the execution order, Gonzo strode to the SUV. Cole watched, his blood turning to ice, as Gonzo yanked Mia from the backseat and pulled her into the beam of the headlights.

  Gonzo put the gun to her temple again. “I’m only going to ask this one more time. How did you know about the home invasion?”

  * * *

  MIA HAD WATCHED the horrifying scene from the backseat of the SUV.

  She’d pushed up her blindfold with a trembling hand. She had pebbles embedded in her palms, her knees were bruised and there were bloody scratches on her legs. These minor aches were nothing compared with the pain in her heart at the thought of losing Cole. She couldn’t watch the man she loved die. Not again.

  Seconds after she recognized Gonzo, she identified Cole’s uncle as the second perpetrator in her husband’s murder. Wild Bill had the Eleven tattoo, just like Rylan. He was the right age and size. There was no doubt in Mia’s mind.

  She tugged at the zip tie on her wrists, trying not to panic. It was too thick to bite through. She hooked her arms over the headrest on the passenger seat and braced her feet against the back, pushing and pulling in a futile attempt to snap her bonds. The hard plastic cut into her wrists, making her cry out. She wasn’t strong enough to break it.

  Tears of frustration filled her eyes as she searched the interior of the SUV for a weapon, or any sharp object. There was nothing. The SUV had a push-button ignition, however. Maybe she could start it up and run these fuckers over. Or wreak havoc by turning off the lights and casting them into darkness. She was about to climb into the front seat when Gonzo opened the door and reached inside.

  Oh shit.

  Mia scrambled away from him, diving toward the opposite door. The bindings impaired her movements. He grabbed her ankle and pulled her out by force. She was dragged into the light and held at gunpoint. Her mind flashed back and forth from past to present horrors. She was on the floor in the guest room, bleeding. She was on the dirt in the desert, trembling. She was floating above her body, flying away from the awful scene. Then she heard Gonzo’s question, and reality came crashing back down.

  “How did you know about the home invasion?”

  Cole stood ten feet away, barefoot, his wrists bound. Dimebag held a knife to Cole’s neck. He couldn’t answer without revealing Mia’s true identity.

  “Don’t cry,” he said to her. She understood his message: don’t speak.

  “I’ll shoot her in five seconds,” Gonzo said.

  Mia curled up in a ball. She was so terrified she couldn’t control her bladder. Her thin skirt became soaked with urine.

  Gonzo dropped the gun to his side, frowning as if Mia’s involuntary action had jogged his memory. Then his confusion cleared, and he exchanged a startled glance wi
th Bill.

  “It’s her. The gallery owner’s wife.”

  Mia’s heart lodged in her throat. No.

  “It can’t be,” Bill said.

  “Take off her blindfold.”

  Cole’s uncle knelt to tear away the scrap of fabric, which was hanging askew. Mia knew that every panicked thought was written across her face. Both Bill and Gonzo appeared to recognize her as the ghost of the robbery gone wrong.

  “What the fuck?” Gonzo said. “She’s supposed to be dead.”

  While everyone was distracted, Cole drove his elbow into Dimebag’s gut. When Dimebag stumbled backward, Cole swung his bound wrists in an upward arc. The blow caught Dimebag under the chin and knocked him flat on his ass.

  Gonzo raised his weapon to shoot.

  Mia saw her opening and took it. Gritting her teeth, she pushed up to her knees and launched herself at him. Cole’s uncle didn’t stop her. She drove her shoulder into Gonzo’s midsection, knocking him off balance. His gun discharged in an earsplitting blast. She wasn’t sure what happened after that. Gonzo shuffled sideways and she caught a fistful of his shirt. She got ragged across the sand, trying to take him down. Annoyed with her interference, he backhanded her across the face.

  Pain exploded in her cheek. She let go of his shirt and tumbled into a black hole, end over end. She landed on her back, jarred by the impact. Woozy, but conscious. Three Gonzos loomed above her. They melded into one as her vision cleared.

  “I killed you once, bitch,” Gonzo said. “I’ll do it again.”

  Cole emerged from the shadows with Dimebag on his heels. Gonzo raised his gun again. He fired.

  Oh God.

  Mia screamed, her heart bursting. Gonzo got a funny look on his face. He brought his left hand to the center of his chest, where a dark stain was spreading. Then his knees buckled and he collapsed beside her, eyes blank.

  Dead.

  Cole’s uncle was standing there with his own weapon. A smoking gun.

  Before she could process what she’d seen, Dimebag caught up with Cole and tackled him to the ground. They wrestled over the knife for several breath-stealing seconds. Cole came up with it. Straddling Dimebag’s waist, he gripped the handle with both hands and brought the blade down in a stabbing motion, striking his opponent in the neck.

  Dimebag bucked underneath Cole. It was a death seizure, not a struggle. A shocking amount of blood gurgled from the wound, soaking into the gritty desert sand. More bubbled from his lips on his dying gasp. Then his body went limp.

  Cole showed no reaction, other than a grimace of disgust as he yanked the blade free from the dead man’s throat. His flat gaze moved from Dimebag’s slack features to Mia’s prone form. Then he saw Gonzo’s body, and his uncle. Panting, Cole climbed off Dimebag and rose to his feet, waiting for Bill to speak.

  “You think this is over?” Bill asked.

  Cole’s throat worked as he swallowed. His hands were still bound. Blood dripped from the tip of his downturned blade.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were an informant?”

  “I thought you’d kill me,” Cole said bluntly.

  “I should kill you! I should have let you die in prison. I always stood by you, even when you fucked my wife.”

  Mia sucked in a shocked breath. He knew.

  Cole didn’t defend his actions with his aunt. He didn’t say he’d been underage, or that she’d taken advantage of him. He just stood there with a grim expression, prepared to endure his uncle’s wrath.

  “What do you expect me to do?” Bill asked. “Just let you two go, and give up everything I’ve worked for?”

  “Let her go. I’ll do whatever you want.”

  “It’s too late for that. I killed a club president. Every asshole in White Lightning will be after me.”

  Mia’s stomach fluttered with fresh panic. Bill was willing to kill for Cole, for Dirty Eleven and for his desert empire. That didn’t mean he’d let her walk away. She knew too much. More importantly, she’d take his top asset with her. Bill hadn’t saved Cole for her. He’d acted in his own best interests.

  “She won’t talk,” Cole said.

  “Of course she’ll talk,” Bill said, gesturing at Mia. “Look at her. She’s so clean she pees when she’s scared.”

  Mia sat upright, moistening her lips. Her cheek felt bruised, her skirt was wet and her thoughts were scattered. She might have a weak bladder and a nervous disposition, but she still had a strong mind.

  “You can buy my silence.”

  Rather than being offended by her suggestion, Bill seemed intrigued. Now she was speaking his language. “With what?”

  “With Cole. You’ve already lost him anyway.”

  Cole stared at his uncle, not disputing her claim.

  “You don’t want to kill us, and he doesn’t want to betray you. So give him to me. Leave your gun and walk away. We’ll say you were never here. I’ll identify Rylan and Gonzo as my husband’s murderers.”

  Bill’s eyes glinted with cold intelligence. She waited for his answer, afraid to breathe. She didn’t like the idea of a dangerous criminal going free, but dirty deals were made all the time. The system wasn’t perfect. Neither was she, for that matter. She’d done a lot of dirty things in her pursuit of vengeance. But she didn’t need it anymore. She needed Cole.

  “I love your nephew, Mr. Shepherd. I can’t forget what you did, but I can stay quiet. As long as you promise not to come after us.”

  After a long moment, he nodded his acceptance. “For what it’s worth, that home invasion was the lowest thing I’ve ever done,” Bill said. “I had to go along with it to seal our alliance, but I didn’t want Gonzo to kill you.”

  “What about my husband?” she asked.

  Bill shook his head. “He’d been uncooperative from the start. During the struggle, he ripped off my mask. He’d seen me at the gallery the week of the motorcycle show. I couldn’t let him live.”

  A sharp pain lanced through her chest. Although she loved Cole with all her heart, it still hurt to think of Philip.

  Bill used the hem of his shirt to wipe his fingerprints from the gun. Then he approached Cole and gave it to him. “You’ll have to fire it. Your hands need gunshot residue.”

  Cole aimed the weapon at the sky and fired at an angle. Mia flinched at the sound. Then he lowered his arms, standing still as his uncle hugged him goodbye. They didn’t say anything more to each other, but the exchange was difficult to watch. It was clear that Cole loved this awful man. And the affection was mutual. Bill was a ruthless criminal with almost no conscience. Even so, he’d risked everything to save Cole.

  Mia ambled to her feet and moved gingerly toward Cole. They stood side by side, watching the dark king disappear into the night.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  COLE USED HIS knife to slice through the plastic tie at Mia’s wrists.

  She returned the favor for him. Then she was in his arms, and they were safe. Tears burned in his eyes at the thought of how close he’d come to losing her. The moment Gonzo recognized her, Cole had known she was doomed. He’d risked getting his throat cut by Dimebag to get to her.

  “I can’t believe you’re okay,” he said, pressing his lips to the top of her head. He held her for a long time, his chest tight with emotion. Then he pulled back to study her face. She had an ugly scrape on her cheek. “Who did this?”

  “Gonzo,” she said, casting a wary glance in the dead man’s direction.

  Cole wanted to reanimate Gonzo’s corpse and kill him again for this infraction.

  “He was trying to shoot you, and you were busy. So I shoved him.”

  Instead of scolding her for saving him, he wrapped his arms around her trembling body and stroked her hair. “I love you, Mia.”

  She looked up at him, clutching his waist. “You do?”

  He swallowed back his tears and nodded. He didn’t deserve her, and God knew she could do a hell of a lot better than him. But she returned his feelings, and she seemed dete
rmined to stay together. She was the smart one. Who was he to argue?

  “I love you, too,” she said, her eyes shining.

  Maybe she was crazy. Maybe they were both crazy. Cole didn’t care. They were alive, and they were together.

  “You don’t have to stay,” she said.

  “Where would I go?”

  “Mexico.”

  “You’d come with me?”

  She wiped the tears from her cheeks, sniffling. “Yes.”

  “Yes?”

  “If that’s what you want. I kind of like being an outlaw. We can ride off into the sunset. Or the sunrise.”

  He couldn’t believe she was willing to give up so much to be with him. Her career, her mother, her comfortable home. Her peace of mind. The man Cole used to be would have taken her up on the offer without a second thought. The man he was now hesitated. She wasn’t cut out for living on the edge and watching her back. She’d spent the past three years in hiding. She’d had enough of that misery. He didn’t want to put her in any more danger. He wanted to protect her and keep her safe.

  Being an outlaw didn’t appeal to him as much as it used to, either. He liked breaking the rules, but he didn’t love paying the price. He wouldn’t mind some stability. They could settle down in a quiet place and grow old together. Or at least grow up. He was ready for that. He didn’t have to work on a construction site forever. He could save his money to get his commercial license. She could write a book.

  They could be happy.

  Running away at this point would just put off the inevitable. He’d get caught eventually. He had to face the music now and take his knocks like a man. There was a legal upside to cooperating with the cops. They might offer him a deal. If they locked him up and threw away the key, he’d be devastated. But Mia could move on. It would be less painful for both of them to make a clean break.

  Cole had to do the unthinkable and go legit.

  “I’d love to take you away, but I can’t run forever,” he said. “If I turn myself in, I might have a chance at a real future with you. It wouldn’t be anything fancy. Just you and me, free and clean, somewhere safe.”

  “That sounds wonderful,” she said, her face crumpling.