by Ashley Hall
“Chico,” says Gabe, nodding at the Spaniard. “I was hoping you were going to be able to make it.”
Chico laughs, but there's no real joy in the sound. “I wouldn't dare miss out on a chance at seeing that freak get busted. It's been too long of a time coming, Gabe. I know you two were friends but…” He cuts himself off and shakes his head. “This has been a long time coming. I'm just going to leave it at that.”
Gabe nods. He looks over his men—his friends, his brothers, his fellow bikers—and says, “Thank you for coming out here.”
“What's he done?”
“He took my girl,” says Gabe. And then he leans over and puts a hand on Chico's shoulder, talking in the most serious and steady voice can muster. Even though he feels like falling apart, this is no time for that. This is a time for action, for being a leader. “Chico, he has my girl in there.”
Chico narrows his eyes. “I didn't know you had a girl.”
“Bullshit. You've seen the papers,” snaps Gabe. “I'm in no mood to fuck around with this. He took my girl, and that's all you need to know.”
“Sure it is,” says Chico. “But it's not all that I deserve to know.”
Chico is one of the founding members of the Desperados. He was here even before Gabe, an old timer that's just never going to leave. He's seen it all, done it all, and been through it all.
And right now, he's right.
Chico and everyone else that has gathered here on the beach deserve to know exactly what's happened. There's just no time for this.
“Later,” promises Gabe. “You help me get out of this mess and I'll sit you down and give you every last dirty detail you could ever want.”
After a moment, Chico nods. “Okay. So, what's your plan?”
“I need you lot to wait here,” says Gabe. “You're going to be my backup, in case I can't talk him down.”
“You won't be able to talk him down.”
“I need to try. We've known each other for too long not to at least give it a shot, Chico. You get that, don't you?”
“Brother,” says Chico in a voice that explains away his exhaustion, “I understand that more than you could ever know. But I get, too, that things don't ever go the way they should. Bad things happen to good people, Gabe.”
“Funny,” says Gabe. “My mother used to say the same thing. I always thought she was full of it. I mean, it's not like I'm a good person.”
Chico claps him on the back. “If you weren't a good person, you wouldn't be here today.”
“If I was a good person, I wouldn't have gotten Isabella into this mess.”
“She's in this mess because you are a good person. Don't sell yourself short, amigo.”
“Don't sell me too high,” says Gabe, and he tries to make it sound like he's joking but the words fall flat.
He's not a good person.
But he's not going to give up on this, either. He claps Chico on the shoulder, and then he heads towards the beach.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
It's hard walking through the wet sand. It rained the night before, making the sand a thick, muddied sort of mess.
Gabe's footsteps aren't the only ones on the beach. He follows two others to a section of the beach that's hidden behind the cliff. And there she is, kneeling on the ground, sobbing and half-naked.
There's a gun pressed to Isabella's temple. Slade is standing next to her, looking far too amused for anyone's good. He says, “Look at that, you did show up.”
Gabe sneers. He holds out his hands, showing off the fact that he doesn't have any weapon on him. “Of course I showed up. Just let her go, Slade. You don't need to do anything like this.”
“Oh, but I do!”
“You don't,” snarls Gabe. “Just let her go! She didn't do anything to you!”
“Please,” sobs Isabella, but her word brings something dark out of Slade. He cracks her in the side of the face with his pistol, sending her sprawling across the wet sand. It clings to her bare form, and it clings to the bruise already darkening her face.
“Isabella!” Gabe takes a step forward, but he stops when the gun is pointed at him.
“Don't move,” says Slade.
Gabe demands, “Why are you doing this?”
“Why do you think?”
“I don't know! I don't know,” insists Gabe. “I have no idea why you're doing this, Slade! It's not like you. None of this. None of this is like you. You haven't been the same in a long while.”
“Haven't I? You really think that I'm the one that's changed?”
Gabe says, “Yes! You've changed!”
Slade points his gun at the sky and fires it off, just once. “Bullshit! You're the asshole that changed, Gabe!”
Isabella pleads, “Someone, tell me what's going on! I just want to know why I'm here. What did he ever do to you? What did Gabe ever do to you?”
“He took everything from me,” snarls Slade. He waves the gun around wildly. “He stole what rightfully belonged to me! The Desperados should have been mine. Do you hear that? It should have been mine!”
Gabe balks. “Is that what this is about?”
“I will have my revenge,” spits Slade. “I have already taken Gabe's girlfriend, and now I'll take his new lover, too.”
With his hands held out in a sign of peace, Gabe takes a slow step forward. He's known for a while now that there was something wrong with Slade—that the divide between them had grown to an impossible extent—but he truly hadn't realized that it was this bad. “I didn't take anything from you, Slade. I swear to fuck. I haven't taken anything from you.”
“You took everything from me,” screams Slade. “I'm the one that does the most for this goddamned club! I'm the one that does the most for the Desperados! Even when we were kids, you got everything. All of their praise, their approval—you didn't deserve it!”
“I worked for what I got,” says Gabe.
“No,” spits Slade. “You got it because they pitied you! Then when you realized how much everyone listened, you turned into an upstart that had no problems walking all over people. I hate you. I've always hated you!”
“That's not true,” says Gabe, trying his best to calm down the furious man. “We used to be good friends.”
“You thought we were friends! You made me be your friend, just like you made everyone else listen to you! If I didn't pretend to get along with you, they never would have let me stay. They would have thrown me out just because I was at odds with you,” snarls Slade. He points the gun at Isabella, then swings it around to point at Gabe instead.
“You're right,” says Gabe. “I didn't deserve to be the leader.”
Slade’s face twists, like he's not sure what he's hearing.
Gabe continues, “I've never deserved to be the leader.”
“No,” says Slade. “You didn't. You didn't, Gabe. And now, you're going to pay for it.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
They just stand there for a long time on the beach. They stand there staring at each other, and Gabe has never hated it more. The silence that stretches between them reminds him too much of a funeral, and he can't shake the sound of his mother's voice from his mind.
Honey, sometimes bad things happen to good people. That's just the way of the world, darling. It's not good, and it's not right, but it's how things go.
Whether he's a good person or not is up for debate. Right now, Gabe feels like the scum of the earth, getting Isabella involved in something like this. Finally, Slade lowers the gun, just a little bit.
It's not enough, but it gives Gabe an idea. “Look at her, Slade. I don't deserve to have Izzy in my life. I'm not a good person. Look at everything I've done to her. You've seen the news reports!”
“The news reports? I'll do you one better.” With the hand not holding the gun, Slade pulls a crumpled-up piece of paper from his jacket pocket. He shakes it out and starts reading off of it. “Due to previously discussed circumstance, we will be returning to Davaria ahead of sche
dule. Our flight has already been placed, and I expect that you are ready and waiting, on time, for it. We will be leaving very early tomorrow. The fact that you aren't in your room now only farther proves to me, and to your father, that we cannot waste any more time in this dreadful country. It has corrupted you. It has broken you, and it has fouled you.”
Gabe's heart stops. Is this something that the Queen had written? The thought seems strange, but there's also no other that seem to match up.
“Thankfully, some men are desperate. Thankfully, some men will take even the foul. Tomorrow, we leave for Davaria. Upon our return home, you will meet with a man named Sir Calbert Eisenhower. He will be, should all go according to plan, your new suitor.
You will carry the baby to term. Upon its birth, a wonderful family in Castrao will take him as their own. The news will be made aware of your miscarriage. You will be distraught, and you will hide away for as long as we can manage.” Slade pauses, just long enough to give a chuckle. The sound is forced and sharp. It's more like glass and metal than anything else.
He continues, “After a year, you and Calbert will have a child of your own. This one, should your behavior have been rectified, you will raise as your own. As per our arrangements, you will wait two years and have another child. Calbert requests very little from you. As he knows and understands your proclivities, I have no problems agreeing to the few things that he does want, among which are three sons and at least one daughter. You should have no problems meeting those requests.”
The words echo in Gabe's mind.
Three sons and one daughter.
They settle in his gut, this heavy weight that makes him feel nauseous. Gabe says, “Shut up, Slade. I don't need to hear this. I already said that I fucked up. That's what you want to hear, isn't it? I fucked up by getting involved with Izzy.”
Slade ignores him in favor of reading off the last line of the note. “I can only imagine that this arrangement will work just fine for you. It is far less respectable than having a single crown heir, but I do not see that you are capable of reigning yourself in, so this will have to do. Can you imagine? That's from her own mother. Look what you did to that poor girl. You've stripped everything from her.”
“I know,” shouts Gabe. “I know that I did! Are you even listening to me, Slade? I messed up! I messed up with her, and I messed up with you!”
“That's right,” says Slade. “You did!”
“You should have been the leader,” insists Gabe. “You wouldn't have messed up like this. You wouldn't have made these mistakes.”
“I wouldn't have,” agrees Slade. He lowers the gun, a little bit more. “I would have done a good job leading the Desperados. We would be something big if I was in charge!”
Gabe says, “I don't have the right ambitions. I don't have the right hopes or dreams. You should have been in charge. You could still be in charge.”
“I will be in charge,” sneers Slade. “Why do you think I brought you out here?”
He lowers his gun the rest of the way. Gabe takes the moment for what it is. He charges forward, throwing himself at the other man.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
What happens next goes down quickly. It happens in a matter of seconds—really, a matter of heartbeats. But to Isabella, it seems to stretch on forever.
Gabe charges at his once best friend, screaming, “Run! Run, Isabella! Run!”
They slam into each other. The two men hit the ground, rolling around in the wet sand. It clings to their leather vests and their acid-washed jeans. Slade's fingers curl around the gun, but Gabe brings his fist down on the other man's sternum.
Isabella struggles to her feet. It's hard getting up without using her hands. Even when she is standing, the young princess can hardly keep her balance, let alone take off.
And she's frozen by the fight that's taking place before her. It's a mess of flying fists, snarling curses, and kicking legs. The two men wrestle with each other like children, rolling across the beach and into the shallows of the water.
Gabe rears up like some sort of a beast. He brings his fists down, again and again. “You're insane,” he bellows. “You're completely insane.”
Slade snarls, but there's water in his mouth, and the words make no sense. He tries to roll out from under Gabe, but it's hard. The two twist about again. This time, Slade ends up on top. He no longer has a gun, but he pulls a buck knife from his hip and holds it up, ready to strike.
“Gabe,” screams Isabella. “Gabe!”
The fight is blocked from view by the cliffs. The wind and water keep anyone from hearing the struggles.
For a moment, Gabe is certain that he's about to die.
He thinks, Bad things happen to good people. Maybe I am a good person. Maybe this is how things were meant to go.
“You're dead,” hisses Slade. Just as he goes to bring the buck knife down, a massive wave crashes over them. It grabs hold of Slade, ripping him out with the withdrawing current. Gabe is swept out to sea, too.
There's a difference between the two men, though.
That difference is this: it's not the first time Gabe's been caught up in raging ocean waters. It floods his lungs, burns his nose and his eyes and his throat. Gabe sputters and twists, trying to get up to the surface.
And then he goes still, letting the waters buoy him to a fresh breath of air. Gabe gasps when he breaches the surface. Wet twists of hair hang in his face. It clings to his skin, wrapped around his neck. The waves crash down, pushing him under once more.
He swims perpendicular with the current, heading towards the shore at an angle. Strong arms and legs propel him forward. Even though the tide is rough, it's not the most dangerous. This is not a storm tide nor a red sky tide. This is just a simple high tide, with waves and surf and water that's more salt than anything else.
“Gabe,” pleads Isabella, “please, be careful!”
She rushes into the shallows of the water. It's cold against her legs. The sand moves beneath her feet in a disconcerting manner.
“Do you see him?” Gabe tries to look over his shoulder, but he can't. He can't focus on anything except getting into the shallows. “Do you see him?”
Isabella looks around. The ocean is gray. Behind Gabe, it's broken only by the crashing waves. “No,” she says. “Gabe, I don't see him. I don't think he made it.”
She isn't sure if an apology is in order or a grateful shout. Either way, Isabella sinks to her knees, looks at the sky, and thinks, It's over. It's finally, finally over.
When Gabe finally gets back on solid ground, he wraps Isabella up into the tightest sort of hug. “I was so worried about you.”
Isabella buries her face against his salt-slicked skin. He smells of the ocean—brine and misery and hope, all rolled into one. “He didn't hurt me that badly.”
“Your face?”
“I'll be alright,” says Isabella, even though the bruise on her face stings. The skin there is pulled taut, swollen and dark. When she leans back, Gabe presses a kiss to the side of her face, just above the bruising.
“You will be,” he says, and it's more of a promise than anything else. “Come on, sweet cheeks.”
He leads Isabella back across the beach towards the parking lot. The members of the Desperados motorcycle club have lined up, ready to charge onto the beach if they need so. Chico is the first one off his bike when they catch sight of the bedraggled looking duo, who come stumbling up the beach, arms looped around each other and still dripping water.
“Gabe,” bellows Chico, making a beeline towards the duo. “Gabe, what happened?”
“Someone get us a coat,” shouts Gabe. “The girl needs a coat!”
Most of the men are wearing vests. A new recruit by the name of Jimmy has not earned his yet. He shrugs off the leather coat that he wears, still patchless, and averts his eyes when he offers it to the young princess.
She blushes. Her brief stint at being okay with not wearing clothing has already gone sour, and she has no mo
re interest in letting the world see her so open and revealed. Princess Isabella slips on the leather jacket. It's not cold outside, but it does a good job covering her otherwise nude form.
“Thank you,” says Isabella. “Thank you very much. I'll make sure to give it back to you.”
“You can keep it,” says Jimmy. “I'm just glad to be of a help.”
Gabe pats Stan on the shoulder, and then he wraps his arms right back around Isabella. She's not going to be getting out of his hands any time soon. “Alright, boys. I told Chico that, when all of this was over, we'd tell you exactly what happened. But I'm tired, and Izzy needs to go home for a bit. We'll meet up this weekend, and I'll make sure to let you all know exactly what's going on.”
