by Kara Parker
Then I heard it, a loud bang that was louder than the roar of the bikes. I couldn’t help it. I jumped and, as I gasped, jerked the wheel to the left, but instead of fighting it, I leaned into it and sent the bikers on that side scattering. Then another boom and I could see the rider with the sawed-off shotgun. He was staying behind me and out of my reach. No matter how much I swerved the truck I couldn’t hit him. There were two more loud shots and then I figured out he was shooting at my tires. If I lost a tire, I would be straight up fucked. I hit the clutch and slammed on the brakes and I heard booms as bikers hit the truck and a few glanced back at their fallen brothers as they raced past me. I pushed the truck back into second and made another hard right onto a small side street.
I couldn’t see the bikers anywhere; they weren’t in my mirrors or in front of me. Had I lost them? I hit the gas and raced down the street heading for the warehouse. I was far from any residential areas and the only buildings around me were warehouses and closed gas stations. Holy shit, I thought. I might actually make it, just wait until the boys back the clubhouse hear about this. A whole pack of Los Desperados on my tail and I escaped free and clear.
Then I heard another boom and the truck veered hard. I held the wheel tightly as I tried to get control. But it didn’t matter; I could feel that I’d lost a front left tire. I hit the gas and pushed the truck into a higher gear. I still had other tires and hoped that if I gunned it maybe I could still make it. I wasn’t far from home and safety. I was so close. I only needed to go another couple of miles and then I would have made it. But the dogs of Los Desperados were on me again; they’d surrounded me and I couldn’t veer into them this time or I would lose control of the truck. No! I couldn’t go down like this. I had worked so hard and had so many successful runs. I was not going to be outdone by Los Desperados.
I hit the gas harder, but the bikes were right on top of me and I didn’t see the pothole until it was too late. Thanks to budget cuts, the roads in that neighborhood were utter shit. The truck bounced violently when I hit the pothole and I felt myself bounce up and down as my seatbelt pinned me to the bench. Another loud boom rung out and with my hands firmly on the wheel I tried desperately to get control, but it was too late. I was off the road and then everything got loud and painful as the truck slammed into a tree.
Everything was spinning and I couldn’t catch my breath. The world in front of me was a hazy mess and my chest and shoulders were aching from the strap of the seat belt. I was gasping and heaving for breath, but it was still not enough. Was I dying? I looked down and did a quick check to make sure all of my limbs were intact and I didn’t see any blood. My head was pounding, but slowly I could feel myself catching my breath as the world stopped spinning and came into a sharp focus. I could see the splintered remains of the tree I hit and a sparse looking empty field behind it. The hit knocked the wind out of me, but I wasn’t done yet. I reached under my seat and felt the shotgun I kept hidden there. I grabbed the box of shells from the glove compartment and unbuckled my seatbelt; I moved quickly and tried not to draw attention to myself as I got into position.
I could see them in the rear-view mirror. They were like a pack of hyenas on an elephant. I heard metal scream against metal as they wrenched the roll-down door off the truck. I watched as a huge, black van pulled up and Los Desperados, their faces still covered, started throwing my stuff in the back. They were being careless with the merchandise, which was another thing I would have to punish them for.
I had a shotgun, a box of shells, two Glocks, and a knife. If Los Desperados thought robbing this truck just involved running it off the road, they had another thing coming. The gun was loaded and I was ready. I pushed my door open and took cover behind it. I saw one Los Desperados standing perfectly in my sight and I aimed the shotgun at him and fired.
CHAPTER THREE
The first shot hit my target right in the chest and he flew backwards like he had been punched and then lay sprawled out in the grass. I cocked the shotgun and shot at another as the thieves cried out and scrambled for cover and their guns. I reloaded quickly and fired off two more shots; in the darkness of the night I didn’t know if any connected, but I heard more than one voice cry out in pain.
They had taken cover behind their bikes and on the other side of the truck. I needed to be careful and watch for them at my back or crawling underneath or over the top. There were too many points of attack for me to cover them all forever. I had counted at least twenty of them and there was only one of me. But one may have been enough if they were sloppy.
“Put the gun down and come out and we’ll let you go,” a voice called out over the clearing.
Like I was ever going to believe that. I placed my shotgun in the rolled down window of the truck and aimed at the direction I heard the voice coming from. I fired off a shot and they began to yell angrily at me.
I thought about running for it, but the clearing behind me went on for a long time and there was no room to take cover along the way. Plus, I would be on foot and they would be on their bikes. I could try and make a brake for the road and the warehouse district, but there was no way I was getting past of all those bikers. This was it this was my last stand. Time to go out in a blaze of glory that would make the boys back at the club proud.
I aimed my gun where I knew Los Desperados were standing and I began to fire at them, pumping out shells and reloading without even thinking about it. I heard bikes roar to life, but I ignored them. All I could feel was the gun under my hands, the shells slipping into the chamber, the kickback once I fired. It was like everything was happening in slow motion, the spark from the shot hanging in the air while I watched the bullets as they traveled.
I heard voices behind me and I spun and shot two more times, but they were on my other side now, too. I spun and fired and as I went to reload I felt something heavy slam down on me as I was tackled to the ground. I struggled but whoever had jumped on me was on top of me and he had pinned me down. I could see my gun, but it was out of reach and I watched as a member of Los Desperados picked it up. I was trapped. They were taking me alive.
“Don’t fucking move,” I heard a breathless voice say.
Then I felt that unmistakable feel of cold metal on my scalp. He had a gun pointed to my head. I should have fought him off. If he shot me that would be fine; it would be better than being taken alive. But my hands wouldn’t obey me; they remained on the dirt in front of me and didn’t move. I could feel rough hands on me as the two pistols were removed from their holders. I felt them traveling along my arms and down my back, over my ass and then stopping at the knife strapped to my hip.
“You put up quite the fight for a girl,” the man said as he roughly flipped me over. He was kneeling over me and headlights surrounded us.
I couldn’t help but squint to shield my eyes from the brightness as I tried to make out his face. Finally my eyes adjusted and I could see the man who had captured me. He had light golden skin, dark hair, and green eyes, and he looked huge, all muscles with tattoos traveling up and down his biceps. I got the feeling he could scoop me up and throw me ten feet without a problem. I was suddenly speechless, not knowing what to say or do. I would be no match for this man, no match at all. He could lay me out with one tap of his fist. I just didn’t understand why he’d gone to the trouble to take me alive.
“Hey, Julian, check it out. The Bandits are so desperate they have women driving their trucks now.” A voice called out from the crowd.
The man who had been hovering over me, Julian, sat back on his heels and I sat up shakily. I could see my guns and knife sitting in the dirt next to Julian. Could I get to them fast enough? They would take me out, but I might take at least one of them with me.
“Come on now, you got to give her some credit. She’s a good driver,” Julian said. He was staring at me and I finally had to look away.
I needed to do something I needed to get up and attack and fight. But I had never been so outnumbered or outgunned before. A
nd the truth was, the thought of ending it all and throwing my life away was too much. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Not yet, I had to hope that there was still some way I could get out of this alive.
“Load up the truck,” Julian shouted to his men, but even though he was talking to them his eyes never left mine. “I want us out of here in under ten minutes, move!”
“I’m a great driver,” I spit at Julian. I needed to do something.
“Well,” he said, as someone handed him a long piece of rope. “Not so great,” he continued, slapping my knee lightly with the rope. “We did run you off the road, capture you, and steal all your merchandise.”
“Yeah, well, Alexander the Great was killed by dirty water. Even trash can bring down a king.”
“You think we’re trash?” he demanded, and any lightness in his voice was gone as he grabbed my wrists and began to tie them tightly together. He was tying some insanely complicated knot and the fibers were rubbing painfully against my skin. He left a long lead on it and when he was done tying my wrists he gave a strong tug on the lead, jerking me forward.
“You’re Los Desperados. You’re not a real gang. You just steal from real gangs. You’re the lowest, you’re bottom feeders.”
“And what you do is so noble? What’s wrong with stealing things from you, when you’ve stolen them from somewhere else.”
“We go through all the work. We set up the connections, deals, buyers and sellers. We do all the real work and then you come in and profit off of us.”
“So we’re smarter than you?”
“No, you’re not capable of doing what we do,” I said.
He shrugged and stood up, and I tried to ignore how tall he was. He towered over me and, as he tugged on the lead, I could feel how strong he was. I ignored him; even as the rope burned my wrists raw, I refused to move. I sat on the ground, stubborn as ever, and pulled against my restraints.
“Get up,” he said again. But this time he pulled his gun out and aimed it at me, right at my head.
With a sigh I stood and watched as he slipped it back into his holster. I would need to get his gun off him somehow. Maybe I could trip and fall into him and grab it, or I could try to sweet talk him and get a little closer. The second one wouldn’t be hard. Now that we were both standing I could see his full height. He was like a giant or some medieval knight. He must have been over six five and, when I stood next to him, I only came up to his chest. He was handsome and there was something to him, a confidence maybe. Flirting wouldn’t be that hard.
But flirting could easily get out of hand. There was too much of a chance that I could lose control. What if it backfired and flirting wasn’t enough; what would I do then? I stood at the back of the truck next to him and watched as Los Desperados quickly moved the merchandise from the truck to the van. They worked quickly and efficiently, and I watched as before my eyes the haul was reduced to nothing and my rig sat empty.
“Joey, drive the van straight home. Take your time don’t get caught,” Julian said. I was breathing deeply and waiting to hear what he would say about me. What would my fate be, an unmarked grave in the desert, or something worse?
“What about the girl?” one of Los Desperados members asked.
Other than Julian, they all still had their faces covered. I could see my reflection in the visors of their helmets when they were close. I looked pale and scared and short next to Julian.
“I think I’m gonna take her home to meet the family,” Julian said turning to face me.
“You should let me go,” I said to him, trying to sound as commanding as possible.
“I should?” He asked with a laugh, “Why?”
“Because unlike your chicken shit operation, The Bandits are a real gang. You can’t just take one of their members. They will hunt you down until they find me. You think you’ve started a war with this? Stealing merch is one thing, kidnapping a member is another. You can’t imagine what they’ll do to you if you take me.”
“That is true. They would be very angry if anything would happen to you. So, I will just have to watch you very carefully,” Julian said, walking towards me and reeling me in. He was only inches away from me and I looked up at him through my lashes. “You’ll stay with me and we’ll see what Marco says.” From behind Julian I could see the members of Los Desperados nodding their heads. Marco must have been their Big Tom, the guy in charge. It was almost never a good thing to meet the man in charge. “You ride with me,” he said with a nod turning away from his men and tugging on the rope that bound us together.
All around us motorcycles roared to life as the men mounted them and took off towards wherever Los Desperados called home. Eventually all the bikes left until it was only Julian and I next to the destroyed and empty rig.
CHAPTER FOUR
“You really think they’ll go through all the trouble to hunt you down?” Julian asked as we walked towards his bike. It was a large black Harley covered in shining black metal and slick chrome. I know everything there is to know about bikes and this wasn’t some chop shop hobbled together piece of garbage. It was a beautiful and well-maintained machine and under any other circumstance I would have jumped at the chance to ride it. Julian paused for a moment as if searching for the right words and then he continued: “I mean, you’re good, but you’re a woman...”
“What the fuck does that mean?” I demanded. I had been looking around the empty field and the empty streets in front of me. If only there were someone else out here, if I could find a car and try to flag it down, I might be okay. The car might not stop, but they would at least call the cops and that would put some pressure on Los Desperados. But there was no way I could count on that. There had been a big accident and a shootout and the police still hadn't shown up. In this neighborhood, they might never. But with that little crack from Julian I couldn’t help give up my search and spin around to glare at him.
“I don’t know,” Julian said, crossing his arms over his broad chest, “I guess it means that in a motorcycle club women are typically worth less than men.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not typical,” I answered. “And women are worth the exact same amount as men, if not more!” I continued. I was all riled up, and I needed to do something. But I couldn’t run and there was no way I could take him in a fight, but I wanted to. I wanted to hit him; I wanted to hit him with my truck over and over again. I was mad and I was in pain; the ropes around my wrists were too tight. Every movement hurt and Julian kept tugging on the rope and irritating the skin further.
“Calm down. This isn’t a rally,” he said. “Are you gonna be good on this ride?” He asked, turning to face me. “You’re not going to do anything stupid like run me off the road, right? Because you’ll be on the bike, too, and that would be a very stupid thing for you to do.”
I hated the fact that he was right. There would be no way to take him out without also hurting myself, and it wouldn’t be a small injury either. People generally don’t walk away from motorcycle accidents. There was nothing I could do; I was trapped, outgunned, and outmanned. I could only watch as he took a bandana from his pocket and walked towards me. I tried to lean away and put as much distance between my eyes and that bandana as possible, but he was holding the rope around my wrist and for every inch I tried to back away, he just pulled me closer.
He walked behind me and I could do nothing as I felt the fabric wrap around my eyes. He tightened the knot and everything went dark. I couldn’t see anything, but I knew he was close. I could hear him breathing. I could feel his breath on my skin and I could sense him near me. He was so tall and strong and even without the use of my eyes I knew he was still there, until he wasn’t. I could hear him as he moved away; I could hear his boots on the pavement walking away from me. He didn’t tell me to follow so I stood still, not sure where to go or what to do.
But with my hands tied up and my eyes blindfolded, I didn’t enjoy being alone. I couldn’t tell who else was out there, what dangers there were. I hated
Julian, but, at that moment, I needed to know he was close. “What are you doing?” I finally called out, trying to keep the fear from my voice.
“Helmet,” he said and I heard him come back and I felt the heavy helmet slip over my skull and past my ears and I felt it as he clipped it under my chin. “Come on,” he said, but instead of tugging on the rope he took me by my hand and led me gently over the bumpy grass. My hand felt tiny and fragile in the strong grip of his rough touch. His grip was firm and his skin was warm and when I tripped I couldn’t help but hold onto him for my balance. He led me slowly through the grass without me falling until we stopped and he put my hand on the seat of his bike.
“I can’t ride blindfolded,” I said.
“Why not?” he asked and I could feel as he straddled the bike and settled onto the seat.
“I can’t keep my balance,” I answered, but I didn’t know if it were true or not. I was desperate to do something. I had no idea what awaited me with my meeting with Marco and I had just realized that this would be my last chance to escape. But I was blindfolded and tied up and wearing a helmet; how far could I really get?
