Break Me Open (Desert Wraiths MC)

by Amy Kiss

  "Ok, right. Two sheriff's guys." No one got my point, and I went on. "Not FBI. not DEA. Just locals, who know they can't just run off once this whole mess boils over."

  Nico gave this some consideration. "So you want to go talk to him."

  "Twist just needs a little reminder we got his back."

  "Alright, you got my blessing. Go. Get the fuck out of here."

  I allowed a thin smile. Good to see the boss returning to brutal form.

  I set off to do business. Rumbling down a lone desert road with the thrum of an engine under you makes you feel mighty. The sun and the sand would have been a death sentence for a man a century back. Now, nothing more than scenery.

  Then again, the desert held other threats now. I’d learned in Afghanistan. Ambushes, improvised explosives, suicide attacks far from med support. I'd learned to fear the sands before I was augmented.

  Despite all that, despite the fact I'd been off IED detail for years by the time the war deposited me back home, driving through here for the first time had still nearly made me snap. I hadn't been enhanced at the beginning of my tour. When I was a grunt, a safe patch of road had looked just the same as one that could turn your transport into a funeral pyre. That's what my mind remembered.

  Joining the Wraiths had been better than any therapy, cause it made that fear reasonable. Instead of IEDs, I had state troopers, rival clubs, and just straight junkies to worry about. Now I knew the desert by heart. The stress was gone. My last fear dead. Even now, as I headed into a new war.

  I roared into Gilsner, eyes straight ahead, locked behind shades. My body held a familiar tension like I was about to offload in enemy territory. In a way, this whole situation was the reverse of my time in the service. I was the bad guy here, the infiltrator. I was trying to hide in plain sight, leave enough reasonable doubt so I could reach my target. I wasn't planning to commit violence though. A quick talk with the sheriff's boys should let them give me a few minutes to give Twist the heads up. His room was likely bugged too. Good thing my body spoke clearer than my lips.

  I parked my bike and slammed through the entrance of Santa Maria Memorial. The nurses and all the staff glanced at me and then looked away before they could draw my attention. I'd seen them all though, with a nice little spike. The meds that Katie had given me were nowhere near the military grade depressants we got after ops in military but it was enough to give me the freedom to run fast and loose with my spikes.

  I prepped as I hopped up the stairs leading to Twist's. Everything counted on him wanting to see me there. No reason he shouldn't, but still, if he told the cops to keep me away then that's what they would do. Spiked, I could knock them off their feet and clear out before they had me.

  Which would let them them bring me in on battery charges. That would be perfect in a way. Once I got taken in, everything could be pinned on me, and the club would be free.

  Didn't think Katie would visit me in prison though, so that was out of the question.

  The door opened on the hall leading to Twist's room and the loose plan fell apart. For one, there was no guard - uniformed, plain clothed or otherwise.

  "Hey," I said at the nurse's station. "Is that where the biker's being kept?"

  "It was." She glanced up, saw my jacket and gave me a one eyed appraisal that only a weathered nurse in a run down city could give. "Your friend huh? Sorry, he just passed."

  Dead? No, this was no coincidence.

  "Can I...?" I pointed at the door.

  "Sir, you can't - ," but I was already there.

  They had the sheet pulled over his head. I yanked it down and saw Twist's ugly mug, uglier now with the blood drained from his face. His body was still warm, his mouth tips twisting down as if he had just had an especially lousy meal. I grabbed the chart. The doctor had called it not 15 minutes ago.

  "Sir," the nurse had actually hobbled up to the door in fury.

  "What the hell happened?" I asked.

  "He had multiple gunshots."

  "Yeah, and today he woke up from that."

  She shrugged. "God's plan ain't for you or me to judge. Maybe he just had time enough for a confession."

  "Confession?" I nearly spat the word back at her. "Confess to who?"

  Her judgmental look took on a layer of confusion. "One of your guys."

  Her eyes were on my VP badge. Another biker.

  The Scorpions.

  "Where are the police?" I demanded

  "ER. We got a tweaked out addict knocking over tables. They needed help subduing him."

  "You're telling me that someone was in here without the police. Talking to the patient. And then he died."

  She shrugged. "Done saying what he gotta say, I guess."

  She glared at Twist's body then whirled and headed back. She didn't give a shit. Just another dead gangbanger, another dead biker. How many had she seen through the years?

  What did the Scorpions want with Twist? He wasn't the only witness to the gunfight they didn't control; they knew about me. Was this some dumb ass vengeance? The police already knew the Scorpions were involved. They had the bodies.

  I looked at the pale remnant of the poor S.O.B. Finally at peace, at least. Cleansed after confession. Only question was, what could he confess to?

  I remembered. My blood went utterly cold.

  I sprinted for the stairwell. Someone was yelling at me to stop, but I burst into the stair well and dropped down the flights in leaps. I tore a wind through the gurneys and startled doctors, whipping out my burner phone as I ran to dial Nico.

  "Twist is dead," I said as soon as I heard his breathing.

  "I know."

  Well, of course, he did. We had guys working here that would patch us up sometimes. They would let him know.

  "The Scorpions got him. They might have got him to talk."

  There was silence, so I went on. "He might have told them about Shiny."

  "How?"

  "Just a suspicion."

  "So they can link us to a murder. Except they killed their star witness."

  I burst out into the sun and hopped onto my chopper. "No, they didn't."

  "Katie."

  "Yeah." I said, but my eagerness broke a bit. Her name had come out of Nico like a sigh.

  "So you agree," he said.

  Now I was truly confused. Or maybe just wilfully. "Agree?"

  "They can use Katie against us."

  "It'll be tough. No reason she'd cooperate."

  "All she has to do is tell the police what she saw happen to Shiny."

  "She won't. Not if we get to her first."

  "Right."

  He went silent.

  The sun beat down, but my body went ice cold. It was one thing when a field operation went off course. That was expected. But to be betrayed from the beginning? That they didn't train you for. It had only happened to me once in the military. That was more than enough.

  "No Nico. Go to fucking hell. No."

  "Ghost...she's not one of us. She won't help us. You don't even know this girl."

  "No, you don't know her. And if she's not one of us it's for all the best fucking reasons."

  "She's a flap in the wind. A big flap. We gotta batten down if we're gonna survive this."

  "Fuck your flaps. Fuck your metaphors. This is not happening."

  "It's already done. I sent Dyno and Trig."

  I revved the engine, summoning every ounce of training not to smash the phone and scream into the wind. Trig was almost as good a shot as me, even riding on saddle.

  "When?"

  "It doesn't matter Ghost. Are you going to turn on your brothers?"

  "No." I jetted out of the lot, so the wind would scream over my voice and let him know I was coming. "I'm not you."

  I shut the phone and spiked so deep I felt the juices spread down my spine, seep through every part of my body.

  Hold on, Katie, I thought.

  Death is coming. But not for you.

  "Sure you can make it for dinner?"
Sandy said. I was lathering my hands in the changing room sink and she loomed over me with a big cartoonish smile. As if that would get me to break.

  "I'm sure. Give me my towel."

  "Honestly, I know we haven't hung in a while, but it's soooo cool with me if you have something else to do."

  "I don't."

  "Or someone."

  I sighed and tried hiding by busying myself in my locker. I grabbed my purse and shut the door. Sandy's cheery smile waited on the other side. Ok, I could break a little. I giggled and brushed between her and the bench.

  "Listen, if I do have a date, I'll tell you. I promise, OK."

  "Alright," she chirped and followed me out into the hallway.

  "I don't have anything lined up." I said.

  "Bullshit," she said, just as cheerily.

  I hadn’t told her exactly what had happened, but Gilsner was a small city, and our college was positively incestuous. Rumors were swirling about me in a biker club jacket. I never should have rode that chopper here.

  But then I thought of Ghost looming over me, drawing me into him. The sacrifice seemed more than worth it.

  I wished Sandy were right. But although I could still taste those lips whenever I shut my eyes, there was no sign of them returning. I was still trying to convince myself that was probably a good thing.

  A couple of the doctors beamed at us as we walked past. Their gazes split from our faces to our sundresses, and they washed them with looks until we were out of sight. Something seemed to have changed about me the past three days. It was like a light had come above me signaling that I was ready to feel again. My looks certainly hadn't changed much but I must be putting out some other energy. Something that had been activated in that kiss. I felt it in the ease of my steps, the smile that seemed to linger in my voice.

  Not to mention in darker and more private places whenever I was by myself. I wasn't a stranger to these feelings. I mean, I had been a girl in high school. But I had never fully seen where they led. When my parents had died, all of my desires had died too. Apparently they weren't lost to me forever.

  We coursed out the building doors and the world showed in crisp clarity under the pouring sunlight. I felt like I could see the whole world if I just squinted enough.

  "Is Barry going to be there?" I asked.

  "Stuntman Barry?"

  "You know that's not a title right? He's not a prince."

  "At least you agree he's a stuntman. And no he won't be there. He's in LA on business."

  For Sandy's sake I held back my eye roll. It was Friday and I wanted nothing more than to spend it lounging with my best friend.

  Nothing more realistic, at least.

  We had just left the covered walkway leading up to the hospital entrance, when two men walked up to us.

  "Ms. Phillips?" one asked.

  “Uh, yeah?" I stopped at his chest.

  They both wore dark suits that hung loose on their lean bodies and thick, dark shades. They looked like they were trying to project calm but I couldn't help but notice that the one in the back seemed tense.

  "Ms. Phillips, my name is Agent Olsen. This is Agent Tarly. We're with the FBI. We're hoping to ask you some questions regarding the murder of a Shane Tyrell."

  My throat dried up like the land around me, but I had an honest question to ask. "Who?"

  The agent held up a phone. Through the glare, I saw the face of the man who had come staggering through the night at me before he ran out of blood.

  "She doesn't know anything." Sandy protested. She nodded at me.

  Maybe I should just marry her. Always coming to my rescue. But this was too much. "I don't really know him," I said, scrounging for truth.

  "That's fine," Agent Olsen said. "We'd just like you to come with us and get that on record."

  Agent Tarly nodded quickly behind him.

  "Come with you where?" I asked. I knew once they had me in a room I would not hold up. I had some rights, right? I didn't have to go.

  "We have our field office set up just nearby."

  He tipped his glasses towards a bunch of houses. I didn't see where he was pointing though, cause I was too busy looking at his eyes. They looked yellow. I guessed FBI agents didn't really do the whole work-life balance thing, but this guy looked plain sick.

  I took another expansive look and realized everything was wrong. The slick suits weren't loose, they were the wrong size. Agent Tarly was in sneakers, and even through his shades he wasn't able to hold my eyes. He kept scanning the area, searching for something. They looked as nervous as I did.

  "I think I need to talk to a lawyer first." I took a step back, towards the safety of the hospital.

  Sandy took my wrist and became one with me. "We'll just go right in and check with our boss what to do," she said.

  "That's not a good idea." Olsen took a step my way, one hand moving for his waist. The words were meant to come out neutral but ended as a growling threat.

  I was about to scream for help, when suddenly the air boomed with a rolling thunder.

  No, not thunder, a chopper engine revving hard.

  The fake agents jumped near me. All four of us turned to see the wide handles of a chopper charging up the curb directly toward us.

  "Oh shit," Tarly shouted, and his voice sounded like he was drunk. "It's the freak."

  The freak. The Harley roared closer and I could see the side. It was tan. My heart leapt, as I saw a blonde trim of hair, rising just above the handlebars.

  He was coming to save me.

  Tarly's hand rose with a thick metal gun. His sleeve fell back and I saw a winding tattoo lead up his arm. Sand Scorpions, it read.

  Bikers.

  "Get the girl," he shouted.

  "Fuck the bitch." Olsen's hand slung out a darker gun. "Waste this mutant fuck."

  The air burst near me and my ears rang, The air exploded again. They were both shooting. Shooting at Ghost.

  Bryan.

  Sandy was screaming and clutching her ears on the ground. The guns barked again. I couldn't stop the blink but I recovered quicker. The motorcycle continued to bear down on our spot. The front must be shielding him.

  I reached into my pocket and pulled out syringes. I carried them around all the time now. It was just a couple, something to counter adrenaline and a tranq for a harder dull. On the off chance that Ghost came charging back into my life. Which he had. But these wouldn't be for him.

  The air burst in another round of shots. I screamed over them, and dropped to the floor. With everything I had, I swung the tranq needle deep into the butt of ‘Agent Olsen.’

  He barked and scowled down at me. Ever so glacially, his gun swung towards my face. Sandy screamed and shoved him forward. He went tumbling into Tarly and his next gunshot fractured the pavement near us.

  The motorcycle went roaring past us. Empty.

  I looked back, expecting to see the worst.

  Instead, I saw the most beautiful and fearsome sight in my short life. Bryan had rolled off the bike and vaulted into the air. He descended now from the sky like a shadow. Like a serraph. Like Death's more nimble brother.

  His fist landed on Olsen. The biker snapped to the ground like he had never stood in his life.

  Tarly's gun rose, but it never got more than an inch. Ghost moved with inhuman speed, and I saw what exactly he must have been recovering from, shaking in my house. Tarly's arm went flying up, his gun slung far into the sky. Ghost glowered at him, glanced at me, and then devastated the man's temple with a open palm strike. Tarly crumpled on top of his partner. Both breathing, but nothing more.

  Ghost left and it was Bryan who beamed down on me. His breathed easily, his features golden under the sun. A thick and rippling arm found my hand, and he yanked me up. "We need to go."

  "Well, hello to you too," I said, heart pounding hard as ever, though for new reasons.

  "Geez, thanks," Sandy said, standing up on her own.

  "Sorry." Bryan said to her, then looked back. "
But we have to go. Now."

  "Go where?" Sandy asked for me.

  "Somewhere to hide. They're after her."

  Sandy looked at me wide eyed.

  I started to ask who, but I saw the look in Bryan's eyes. They were narrowed and his forehead looked tense. Not with fear. but worry. His eyes fell past and I heard murmurs over my shoulder. We didn't have security here, but we did have plenty of witnesses.

  "1 minute," I said. "Let me get my bag."

  His hand gripped tight, but I squeezed it back. "I'll be back, I promise."

  I turned and tried running a few feet, before deciding to kick off my heels into the bushes. I sprinted into the hospital. Sandy burst through the doors at my side.

  "Good god, girl. What have you gotten yourself into?" she panted.

  "Honesty, no idea."

  "Ok, easier question, then. Has that golden god out there gotten into you?"

  "Are you serious?"

  I felt her shrug. "It's a fair question."

  We ran into the changing rooms, and I fumbled my locker code twice before I could get to my bag. As I ran for the door, Sandy tossed her bag at me.

  "We're the same size," she said.