by Lexy Timms
Quake wagged his finger at her. "And you just wanted to let your little honey know that he was in danger? Oh, ain't that just too sweet, boys? You sure it didn't have anything to do with leading that pack of mongrels into our camp, especially your gorilla boyfriend, Bull?"
Wrangler loosened his grip on Classic’s neck, but didn’t let her go.
"He's NOT my boyfriend! Never was, never will be! No one owns me. I don't belong to any clubs."
Retro had managed to unzip his pants and was holding his stiff cock in his hand. "So looks to me like this little piece of ass is up for grabs and I call first dibs! Oooh baby, let me slide this in deep in your pretty little ass!"
Jace had enough. He shoved Retro to the ground.
Retro grabbed for his gun. A heavy boot pressed against his wrist.
"Wouldn't do that Retro, if I were you." Mud stared down into Retro's face, his voice dark and serious. "Let's just see what this little lady has to tell us." He turned to look at Classic. "She just might have some very interesting information."
Wrangler snapped, "We know what you do, you little barfly, we heard all about you and those titties of yours. You wag them at some guy just to see Bull jump through your friggin' hoops! You thought you could do it to Jace."
Her blue eyes sparked. "That's not true! You asshole, where'd you hear that? I’m not Bull's ol' lady! I don't belong to anyone. I work at the Iron Hog on the pole, that's it." She caught Jace's eyes. "I just wanted to warn you, that's all. Nothin' more than that."
Wrangler leaned in toward her again and let go of her neck. He pressed both hands against the open barn door, trapping her in. "Becaaaaause…?" He drew it out.
"Because I don't want anyone else murdered. I know what happened to Fork. I could’ve warned him,” her voice cracked but she didn’t stop, “but I didn't believe they would do it. I thought—"
"Get on that fuckin' bike and get the hell out of here!” Quake's voice was edged with raw seething anger. “Don't look back or one of us might be behind you to cut your fuckin' throat.” He glared at her. “But first we will pass you around and fuck you until your little blues pop right out of your fuckin' head. You got that little Miss American Ass?"
Jace shook his head. "Stop! Leave her alone, Quake."
"What? What'd you say? I'll fuck her right here in front of you if I want to, Jace. She's enemy meat and she's free game comin' right here amongst us. You’re an idiot not to see it.” Quake’s body shook with rage, or anticipation of what might come.
Jace's voice came out deep and had the edge of murder in it. "I'll escort her back. She can't be going through these canyon back roads alone at night." No one was going to touch Classic. Not while he was around.
DC laughed. "Why you takin' her? Why not me? I'm a good escort, aren't I, boys? And there are a lot of other things I’m good at, too, you can bet on that, little lady." He laughed and twirled his white beard toward her. "I'm real good at what I know how to do. Snow on the roof top, but raging fire in the basement."
"Well DC, if we are drawin' straws I want in on it too." Retro had zipped up his pants but his shirt was poking through the hole he left at the top of the zipper making it appear as if he had a little dick hanging out. "Fair's fair, right brothers?" He turned to the others and they all laughed.
Jace snorted. Everyone’s eyes fixed on Jace. They saw a flash move across it, like a bolt of anger that froze his facial expression in a permanent sneer of contempt. The barn became instantly silent. An owl hooted outside, but none of the others moved.
Jace’s voice was unbroken, steady as steel. "I'll be guiding her out of here tonight. Me and my double-thumb stub titanium friend." He pulled his jacket back to reveal his knife. "We don't want any trouble.”
Mud reached out. "Here, take my Ruger." He handed the gun to Jace.
Jace accepted and glanced around the group, hoping he looked more confident than he felt. "I'll be fine. None of those Knights are going to be wandering around in the dark when they can just sit on a barstool and suck beer all night. Tonight is not a problem. We'll be okay." He turned to look at each one of them in the barn. "And as for you brothers, when's the last time you wanted to die over a piece of ass? Not worth it, right?" His green eyes glowed like the eyes of a cat before it pounces on its prey. "That's exactly what I thought." He turned toward Classic. "Come on. Let's get you on your bike, and follow me close." He tucked Mud's Ruger in his waistband. "It gets tricky when we hit some of those 90-degree grades on the way back down to 66."
Classic's blue saucers looked up at him. "Jace, I thought…"
"What?"
"I thought I could stay with you and your guys where I'd be safe."
The men laughed. "She thinks she's safe here with us, Jace. Oh, do let her stay and play." Quake laughed the loudest of all.
Jace kept his voice firm, "You have to go back down, Classic. Now let's get going."
DC cackled, "Oh, now you just took all the wood outa my woodie. Can't she stay and play, Jace?"
Jace shook his head. "Damn! If you aren't one incorrigible bastard, DC." He laughed at his friend.
Chapter 4
DC rambled over to his bike. "I’m going to take a moonlit ride myself, maybe go further down the road to Dempsey's Bar and see what's cookin' there tonight." He winked at Jace. "You're not the only dude who needs to get his 'kicks on Route 66'." He quoted the words from the WWII vet, Bobby Troop's 1946 song. "And I wouldn't mind wettin' my whistle an’ getting some of this desert dust outa my throat either." DC waved his hand to the others and took off down the sandy path.
Jace knew the Route 66 song that was written with the help of Nat King Cole well. Doesn't every biker? he asked himself before he turned to intently eye the others. "Any of you guys going to follow DC down the hill to get a few drinks?" He didn't know why he asked, maybe just to get a head count on how many were going to stay at the barn. He thought of sending them away where they might be safer, but most of them were already too sloshed to ride.
The men shook their heads. They weren't going anywhere. All of them had known Fork for years and needed to mourn, each in their own way. Fork had been a good leader, and a friend to most of them. They were content to pass a bottle or two around and tell a few tales about the biker with the deep, warm belly laugh. A couple of them had actually wound black armbands around their biceps. "Alrightie then. Anyone object if I take this lady back to the Iron Hog? We can talk business when I get back, after she’s safely deposited where she belongs."
He watched as they shrugged their shoulders and most of them began to walk away, no longer interested.
"You do what you feel you have to do, Jace." Mud nodded toward him. "Just be careful. I could come along, but I think three's a crowd, right?" A single eyebrow rose on the man’s weathered face.
Jace grinned. "Perhaps. We'll see about that one, Mud." He made his way to his bike. Classic went to hers and they both fired up their engines. He tilted his head and stared at her bike. "You like that low riding seat?"
"It's good for people who are altitude-challenged." She shot him a small, teasing smile, as if not sure how to respond to him now.
He felt his heart turning to melted butter. Altitude-challenged. She meant short. Fork’s death was screwing with his insides tonight. "Speaking of challenged; it's going hard heading down this mountain at night. You best stay pretty close behind me. I'll go slowly, but still, it's fairly steep and really narrow in parts."
She nodded. "But you know, Jace, I'm a big girl now. I even wear big girl panties." She winked at him.
Damn, did she always have to be so fuckin' hot? He thought about the panties he’d just seen not too long ago and wondered if she still had them on.
Mud came up to the side of Jace's bike. He spoke low into Jace's ear, "Keep the gun handy, bro. I don't feel right sending you off in the dark alone. No tellin' what those mother-fucker Knights are up to. Her coming up here doesn't set right with me. It’s like a game of cat and mouse. And you’re the r
odent.” He glanced at Classic out of the corner of his eye. “Call if you need me."
The cell towers sucked around the barn but Jace wasn’t going to need Mud. “I know exactly what I wanna do and how to do it." He laughed, but then dropped his voice as well, "I know there's more to this, Mud. I’ll have my ears and eyes open." He looked into his friend's eyes. "Just takin' care of business, bro."
Mud frowned. "Damn right." He turned to Classic’s bike. “Nice ride,” he said before disappearing into the barn. You couldn’t tell if he meant it or was being sarcastic.
Classic grabbed her helmet. "Is Mud always such an unhappy guy?"
"Nah, he just prefers shadowing me everywhere.” He grabbed his own helmet. “You don’t need to worry, I told him I want to be alone with you."
"Hmmm."
He stared at her, unable to read her face as her pretty little head disappeared inside her helmet. "That's all you can say: hmmm?"
She turned her head so Jace could read her expression. "It’s the things that make one go hmmm."
He had no idea what she meant, nor did he have time for her silly jokes. "Let's get going. I want to get you home safe and sound.” He revved his bike and moved it close beside her. “By the way, do you live at that biker bar?"
She shot him a look of disgust. "For Pete's sake, no! Of course not. I work there. That's it. I live down in Victorville."
"That far?” Jace thought about the long ride and pictured her behind him, her warm body pressed against his. “Maybe we should double up and you can leave your bike here."
"But then I'd have to come back to the Legend's clubhouse to get it, and I don't think these fellas here would like that. I don't get the impression they trust me."
Of course they didn’t. They didn’t know her. Neither did he. "Probably not. Maybe none of us should trust you. Then let’s leave your bike at the Iron Hog. Then I can bike you home?" He hated how he ended his last remark as a question. It was like he was asking, almost begging, her.
"Maybe."
"Maybe, yes?”
"Maybe means maybe."
He shook his head, smiling despite himself. “You’re a hard tease, Classic."
She revved her engine in response.
He pulled out and she stayed right behind him, her wheel almost touching his as they began the downhill grade. He didn't push it. He wound slowly around boulders, and slid gently through the narrow crevices, sometimes having to drag his boot in the sand to slow his momentum. He waited until she caught up to him and then he started down again. Every now and again he turned to make sure she was close enough behind. He stopped when he came to a slight clearing. It was surrounded by rock out-croppings above their heads. He waited for her to catch up to him and then shut off his engine.
She immediately did the same.
Classic stared at him with a look that seemed to say: Again? You're going to fuck me here in the middle of rocks again?
But he didn't get off his bike. He sat there for a few moments looking at her, boring his green eyes deep into her. "I’ve a question, Classic.” He didn’t wait for her to respond and the actions from earlier in the evening began to sit heavy on him. He hoped the pain he felt inside didn’t show in his voice. “Did you set me up?" He stared into her sparkling blue eyes and wished there was more light so he could see them light up even brighter.
She stared at him a long moment. So long he began to question why he’d even asked her. Finally, she shook her head. "What could I hope to gain from setting you up, Jace? Why would I want you dead?"
"For all I know you’re a diehard Knight."
"I'm not.” She pulled her helmet off and let her hair loose as it cascaded down her back. “Fuck the Knights! Fuck all you so-called bike clubs! I'm just a gal who makes her living sliding up and down a freakin’ pole, okay? I go to school during the day because I wanna be a nurse and I shake my booty at night to pay the bills. I’m not a member of anything." She stared hard into his eyes. "And I don't do every dude who comes along, just to set the record straight. I don't screw every dick in the bar like your so-called friends implied."
He watched her with a renewed spark of interest, believing her without questioning it. He felt himself smile – the crooked teasing one that always got him layed. "Okay. One more question. Why the hell did your mama name you Classic?"
She laughed softly and he thought his heart might overflow with whatever hearts overflowed with when they couldn't stand any more sweetness. "It's a nickname. I used to drink a lot and I don't mean booze, I mean I drank a lot of Classic Coke. Even when I was little I would beg my mom to buy Coke for me. So the name stuck.”
Silly story, but he still liked it. “Then what’s your real name?”
“Colleen."
He reached out and touched her cheek gently. "You know, Classic, I’ll kill you if you lied to me and this really is an ambush."
He knew she’d see the fire in his green eyes and it probably made the hair stand up on the back of her neck.
“You have a sweet smile, Jace, and a not-so-gentle touch, but there’s a depth about you I can’t quite put my finger on.” She shivered. “I didn't expect you to be so blunt and cold.”
His green eyes narrowed and for a second they looked like they really were the eyes of a killer.
Classic found her voice. "I didn't lie to you, Jace. The Chiron Knights want to take over this whole area, mainly the drug—" She stopped, and cocked her head to the side, as if listening to something. "Did you hear that?"
"Hear what?" He looked around them and saw only the sheer walls of rocks on all sides of them.
"I don't know, like a scraping or something." She swiveled her head around, whipping her black curls against one side of her face and then the other. "I know I heard something."
Jace mimicked her action from a moment ago and turned his head to one side, listening. Then he heard it, too. "Wha' th' fuck is it?" His hand immediately went to his belt where his knife lay.
She turned her head around again and then looked up, Jace followed her gaze. A shadow passed across the boulders over their heads. "Something's up there." She pointed to the boulders that hung almost like a jagged ceiling over their heads.
Jace’s breath caught as Classic’s sucked in sharply. They suddenly both knew what it was.
A body swung from a rope.
As the wind blew across the body, the body's belt buckle scraped on the rocks—back and forth, back and forth. Classic gasped and covered her mouth with both of her hands. Her blue eyes were wide, watching the body as it twirled in the wind and continued to make the scraping sound on the rocks. She swallowed hard. "Oh shit! There's someone hanging up there." She leaned back so far on her bike she almost fell off.
Jace followed the swinging body as it continued to twirl in the air and scrape across the rocks. "Stay here. I'm going to climb up there to find out who it is."
Classic reached out and grabbed his arm, pinching the leather of his jacket and holding it tightly in her fingertips. "Don't leave me here! I'm afraid! Jace, it's not safe up there. Let's get the hell out of here!"
"You'll be okay. I have to go see who it is." He bent his head as far back as he could, trying to see who it could be. "Looks like he’s dead."
Her voice squeaked in fear. "Jace, it could be a trap."
Jace looked into her eyes as he reached out and grabbed her wrist. In a low voice he hissed, "Is it a trap, Classic?"
"I…no…I don't know. Why’re you looking at me like that?” She shook her head, confusion and fear clearly written on her face.
He didn't answer as he climbed off his bike and headed up the pathway between the narrow rocks. He kept climbing and every now and again he looked down at her. She kept her eyes on him as he snaked his way up through the narrow rock passages.
Jace put his hand on an overhanging rock and pulled himself up. Just as he did it, a damn drawer opened up deep inside his mind and it was as if he had pulled out the folder labeled: Fork.
A sense of déjà vu passed and Jace found himself back in the past with his now-dead best friend.
Fork put his hand on the rock overhang as the sun beat down on his head. "Man, Jace, why did I ever let you talk me into rock climbing? Do I look like a damn mountain goat?"
A younger Jace laughed. "I don't know, Fork, from my angle you look more like an ass 'cause that's all I see when I have to climb this cliff following right behind you."
"Oh yeah, that's a classic one. Ass. Ha, ha. Watch out here, the rock's kind of crumbling." A few pebbles slipped off the ledge and fell past Jace's face. "I don't even want to look down any more. I think I have some of that, what do you call it? Verti-something. "
"Vertigo."
"Yeah, I got it, Jace. I think I should just go back down." Some more small rocks crumbled to the cavern thousands of feet below them.
"Now, Fork, you know you can do this. We trained for this," Jace coached his friend.
"Trained? Climbing up fake rock cliffs in a building with a halter holding you is NOT training."
Jace laughed and his laughter echoed throughout the canyon.
"Stop laughing! You'll shake out some boulders."
"Fork! Just relax. Mind over matter. That's all. Just mind over matter. We’re gonna make it to the top."
Fork's foot slipped. "Oh shit, I'm going down, Jace!"
When he should be panicking he felt himself fill with a sense of calm, almost deadly, dread. Jace yelled, "Hell if you are, grab onto that rock over your head."
"I can't. Jace, oh shit!"
"Do it Fork, just grab the rock over your head and pull yourself up." Jace's voice was clear and steady. Fork reached up and grabbed the outcropping of rock and pulled himself up, dangling his feet over the deep ravine below them.
"See. Mind over matter, Fork, that's all it takes to succeed." He tried to sound calm but knew his words were laced with fear.
Then he heard Fork scream. "What th' hell, oh no! I've been bit by a damn rattler. Holy shit!"
"Stay calm Fork, did the damn thing bite and let go or is he still holding on to you?"
