by Amy Isan
The droning and chugging is definitely coming from the left side of the trail, from the direction we were headed before we stopped to get out of the sun. I lick my dry lips, tasting the salt and coarse texture. I'm going to regret that... It'll only dry my skin out more when the spit dries. Just looking up at Logan makes me feel lightheaded. Logan raises his arms and waves down the trail. Sage and rocks block my view.
"Who's coming?"
"I think Surge and Tank," Logan says. His eyes are fixed, and he doesn't look at me. I wish he would. I want to tell him I feel like passing out but... then he'll just worry.
I shake my head hard and summon some courage. I can't pass out. I won't pass out. I need to get blood pumping and my muscles moving. I sneak out from under the rock and stand up in the hot sunlight next to Logan. I can see the plumes of dust and dirt curling into the air from wherever the bikers are. The dirt plumes are already so high in the sky that they look like tanned clouds.
The chugging grows louder and two riders crest a hill. I can make out their outlines now: they're riding side-by-side. A large bulky man on one bike and a shorter one to the right of him. I could definitely pick Tank out in a line up, even from this distance, but Surge? He just looks like a smudge in comparison.
I lean onto Logan and he grabs me and keeps me from stumbling into the dirt. He grabs my face and tips my chin up to look at me. "Are you okay?" he asks, an urgency in his voice I'm surprised to hear.
"I'm okay," I try and shove myself away from him to stand up again, but my arms are too weak. I manage to stumble next to the outcropping and lean my back against the rock. Its heat pierces my skin, like my shirt isn't even there. I close my eyes for a moment, breathing deeply and finding relief from the harsh rays for a few seconds. The motorcycles ride up to us and slam on their brakes, skidding across the dirt and stopping just short. My eyes are still closed, but I can feel the heat radiating off the two bikes, and I hear one set of boots stomp onto the dirt.
"It's about time you guys showed up, what took so long?" Logan asks.
Tank answers first, "Your coordinates weren't the most precise..."
I open my eyes and see that Surge is staring at me, giving me a look that I've never seen before. My heart races and I want to curl back under the rock. What the hell? Logan doesn't seem to notice, with his eyes fixed on Tank. I clear my throat and try to avert my eyes, but Surge's are powerful and draw me in. Not in a good way, either.
"That's not quite right, there's more to it than that," Surge says, scratching his neck. He breaks his eyes off me and looks to Logan. "The Skeletons have gotten more aggressive. Shit's really hitting the fan here. While I didn't want to have to ride out here to pick you up, we could actually use you back in the crew again. Even with your... kill... they outnumber us in experience and crew size." All business. He doesn't even sound that happy to see Logan again. Strange.
Logan nods and walks up to one of the bikes. "Cassie, who do you want to ride with?"
I immediately point at Tank. "Him." I avoid Surge's eyes, but I can feel him looking at me again. I don't like it, but now isn't the time to talk to Logan about it. Besides... I could be wrong, right? I'm exhausted, dehydrated, and I feel like I'm on the brink of collapse. Mirages aren't the only things that appear out in the desert on hot days.
I'm just scared that sometimes monsters do, too.
. . .
I straddle Tank's bike and, because of how large he is, barely have room to squeeze myself behind him. I awkwardly wrap my arms around him and look to Logan for guidance or assurance, but he's too absorbed climbing onto Surge's bike. I wonder if he feels shitty about having to ride in the back. It's nothing new to me, but his bike broke down and who knows when he'll be able to get it back.
I get upset enough when my car needs to get its oil changed and I have to wait twenty minutes at the lube shop. I can't imagine losing something so valuable, something that's part of his identity.
After a few moments of making sure everything is secure, Surge and Tank turn their bikes around by dragging the rear tires through the dirt. Rattlers that were taking their space back under the rock slither away into the brush. The two bikers throw open their throttles and we soar down the dirt road. We're going way faster than Logan attempted last night, but it's also daylight now, with some actual visibility that isn't a cone of light thirty feet out.
Well, I can't really see over Tank's huge shoulders. I squeeze my hands together and try to stay locked in my seat, but I constantly feel like I'm on the edge of falling out and tumbling to the ground. Surge and Logan are riding beside us, and I give Logan a nervous look.
Logan meets my eyes and whispers something, but I can't make out his words or read his lips. He grins and turns away from me again, but I want to hear him. I want to feel his lips on me, dry as they may be.
I poke Tank in the back and he glances over his shoulder to acknowledge me. "What is it?"
"How long was the ride from town?"
"About twenty minutes," he says.
"At this speed?" I blurt out. I collapse my head against his back and his leather vest is hot against my skin. I don't even care anymore. Twenty minutes isn't that long, but it sounds like hell right now.
"Yeah, it's about 25 miles, I don't think you two would've made it back on foot."
I haven't heard Tank talk much, so it feels strange to suddenly hear the stoic wall speaking to me like I'm an equal. I figured he wouldn't answer me, or that he despised me. I did get his crew into all this trouble, didn't I?
If Logan hadn't met me and kept me hidden from his brothers, then the Skeletons wouldn't have had that leverage to use against him. I don't even know about Rifle... I've only barely heard about him, but I don't like what I have heard.
He sounds like scum. Lower than the assholes at the firing range, of all things. It's kind of silly, I almost feel sorry for Logan's crew: betrayal never feels good. When I first met Logan, I thought it was all an act. Like him and his buddies were pretending and copying all the crap that's just made up for the TV shows.
I guess it's more real than that.
Dirt kicks up and hits my arms and cheeks. I hide behind Tank's back and squeeze my eyes shut. I'd really like to not lose my sight on the way back into town. Hell, I don't even have a job anymore, who'd hire me if I was blind, too?
Probably no one. I don't have work references anymore, either.
Jesus.
. . .
The sight of Phoenix's skyline overpowering the red crags is one for sore eyes. I want to cry, but actually think I'm too dehydrated to even achieve that. The city still looks like it's pretty far out, but just seeing it is a relief. I stab Tank in the back with my chin until he notices me.
"Did you guys bring water?"
He nods and grunts, but I only hear it because it travels through his body. "In the bags."
I squeeze the bike with my thighs and lean back to open his saddlebags. I open them and reveal two bottles of water, two guns, and a bunch of ammunition. The sight of the guns and ammo doesn't faze me anymore. It all seems surreal now. I grab the water and crack one open and tip it back. Probably a third of it spills out and drips down my shirt, but I don't care. It tastes so good I'm pretty sure I'll never experience pleasure like this ever again. Not even from Logan. I eye him and catch him staring at me. I smile and feel my cheeks burn from something other than the blistering sunlight.
"Want one?" I try to shout over the motorcycle engines and tires rumbling over the rocks. He nods, but I'm sure he didn't really hear me. I lean sideways and push the second bottle into his awaiting hand. He snatches it back and cracks it in an instant, before he starts chugging it.
God, what a fucking sexy beast. He's still shirtless, and his body is glistening with sweat. The patch of chest hair is just... just perfect. I never thought I liked that before, but all I want to do right now is run my fingers through it. I want to growl at him and scratch at his skin. For him to fuck me so hard that I leave deep claw marks o
n his back and shoulders. Welts and hickeys covering our bodies. That kind of rough and passionate sex that you can't just have with a stranger.
A stranger. That's exactly who he was when I met him, but he isn't anymore. We aren't... dating... exactly, but we're something more than just acquaintances or fuck buddies. I wonder what he thinks about me.
He mentioned doing things for those you love back on the range. Does that mean that...?
No. It was a figure of speech. He couldn't actually... love me. Even though we've had our fun, I've really only caused more trouble than anything for him. When this is all over, it'd probably be best if we both went our separate ways.
My chest grows tight at the thought of never seeing him again. Of not seeing his smile when I catch him checking me out. Of not hearing him growl in my ear. Of not feeling his breath against the back of my neck.
Logan.
The biker who swirled into my life like a tornado, leaving me devastated and confused. Flustered and in love. How could I love a tornado? Destruction is all a tornado can understand.
As nice as the water was, I still feel parched. Sweat beads on my skin, but most of all, I just want to shower.
Phoenix looms closer. Maybe we can be reborn there. Start new when all this is over.
Things are never that easy though, and I should know.
CHAPTER 3 — LOGAN
Phoenix smells good. Even with the dry heat making it almost suffocating to breathe, I can't believe how much I missed it for the last couple days.
I was sick of smelling the sage. The gun powder. The blood.
Surge told me the Skeletons are getting aggressive, as if they weren't before. I was sure when I scared off that biker outside my home that they already knew about Rattlesnake's fate. Stupid. If they knew I killed Rattlesnake, it wouldn't have been so easy to leave the state. I should have known better. Their whole crew would've rolled up and destroyed my house, and Cassie along with it.
I look at her as we slip off the dirt trail and enter the highway. The rumbling and vibrating of the rocks and dirt is replaced by the smooth asphalt ribbon that leads back into the city. Surge and Tank both accelerate as fast as they're comfortable doing with two riders on their bikes — probably close to eighty or a hundred.
Cassie is resting against Tank's back. She looks absolutely exhausted. I should have done more. I should have gone back and siphoned fuel from the truck. What the hell was that guy gonna do anyway?
I guess there was a dude with a shotgun, but... I could have killed him. If it meant I could get fuel and saved Cassie the torture of the dry desert, then I should have done it. It isn't like I haven't done it before. It comes back easily, the numb feeling that death carries. What else can you do? I wouldn't be alive if I took every life personally. That's part of what Surge taught me.
'You can't save everyone, but you can save yourself,' he said, the day he left California and tried to persuade me to join him in Arizona. I had no reason to. I was younger and I had friends in the crew. The other guys were important to me. I made that choice to stay.
After everything went wrong and half the crew ended up in prison and the other half in the ground, I laid low for a while. Surge extended his invitation to join him in Arizona again, but I still wasn't ready.
Listen to me, being sentimental. Cassie's been doing a number on me and she probably doesn't even know it. I can't be feeling this, not when I have work to do.
The traffic on the highway builds up, but Surge and Tank are experts in getting past it. Tank hits the shoulder first and makes sure no cars are going to suddenly try and take us out. Cassie looks bewildered, but too tired to say anything. I wish I could tell her it's classic road guarding duty, and a bit easier for him today since there's only one other bike to guard. Surge rides up next to Tank, staying on the inside of the shoulder, further from traffic, and we gun it. No police cruisers stuck in the median would bother hunting us down. Too fast, too out of the way. It's easier to just snag a Honda going ten over than try and grab two bikers who can easily outpace the cruisers and who might be carrying guns. Why risk it?
After a couple more minutes, Tank follows our line from the shoulder and hangs up onto the off ramp. The light flicks yellow then to red, but it doesn't matter. In the time it takes for the cars to start moving again, Tank speeds forward past us and blocks the traffic from moving forward. Horns honk and drivers scream uselessly. They wouldn't dare touch a man his size. Surge and I pull up next to Tank and then take the right turn, not having to worry about traffic slamming into us.
After Surge clears the path, I look back and see Tank following us. His motorcycle howls as he moves to catch up.
Surge hasn't said a word since we climbed on the bikes. I expected some more out of him, but maybe he's just waiting until we get back to the bar. There, at least, I can confront him about what people have been saying. If he needs time to gather his thoughts, so do I.
I don't know who to believe anymore. Surge, the man who practically raised me in the Los Devils, or a rival crew who has it out for me and a drug dealer who was obviously corrupt?
It doesn't make sense if Victor was trying to stir shit up, since his brother had just gone on about the status quo for their business. If they wanted that, why potentially pit me against my president?
A thought strikes me like a rock skipping off the road from a truck. To seed suspicion and doubt. If I left Ruin Outlaws, I have more than enough experience and power to start my own crew. Three crews fighting for territory and money in one city? Even better than two. Much better than one.
Not that it matters anymore. Victor's dead, and I don't know what to expect from Gustavo. He might already be setting up traps and cartel hit men to target me and Cassie. What then?
I shake my head and push the thought away as we slow down to turn toward the bar. I can't fall for the trick, even if Surge is what everyone said he is. If our crew splinters anymore, it'll only be playing into Gustavo's and Victor's hands.
It doesn't matter. One of the windows of the bar is boarded up with plywood, and if the other window was covered, it'd look like the place was abandoned.
Tank stops along the curb and pulls his bike alongside the others that are already parked there. He shuts his bike off just as Surge pulls up next to him. Cassie climbs off Tank's bike and looks at me, her blue eyes striking me like it's the first time I've ever seen them. They're severe and tired looking. That look, I've seen it before. It's the reason my heart pumps anymore. The reason why I feel fire in my veins when I think about punishing those who threaten her.
The reason why I have to do whatever I can to protect her. Even if that means taking on the impossible odds of another crew and the cartel at the same time. Not to mention my own crew.
. . .
Tank and Surge disappear into the bar. Before Cassie can follow them, I grab a hold of her wrist and pull her toward me. She embraces me without hesitation and we kiss, our lips weak and dry, but still full of bliss and sparks. Her fingers tighten on my shoulders. She leans in deeper, and I open my mouth to let her slide her tongue in. She's hungry, and so am I, but we don't have time to satisfy those kinds of urges right now.
We both break away to catch our breath. "Cassie, what's wrong?"
"What do you mean?"
"I saw that look you had when we pulled up. I've been around you long enough to be able to read you."
"What look?" she asks. I can't tell if she's being sassy or she really doesn't know. I press forward anyway.
"It's the same one you stared at me with on the road when we first passed each other."
She grows silent and her hand goes to her temple... or her eye? She looks away from me and stares at the door into the bar. "I don't like it."
"Like what?"
"Everything. This whole shit with the other crew or gang or whatever, and now with what happened in Mexico. That won't stay there. It's going to come back and haunt us."
"I know you're scared..."
; "I'm not scared, I'm pissed. I want to end this shit. I want to finish everything up so we can both move on with our lives already. At least then you won't have to keep watch over me. Then, you can go do whatever you want. A free man, a free outlaw. Whatever."
She pushes past me and storms into the bar. I'm stunned. What made her think all that? She just exploded at me for no reason. It's gotta be the heat and exhaustion. What else could it be?
I step into the bar and the darkness is a relief for my burned out eyes. It's like the heat has been cooking my eyes in my skull like a pair of eggs. The whole crew is here, well, what's left of them.
"Bomb?" Driver says, standing up. He shields his eye from the sunlight coming through the door, until it closes behind me. He lowers his hand and grins like a fool. I guess he can't stay that mad at me. Kinda of like how I felt about Surge back in California. But we're not in California anymore...
That's what Rifle said.
I nod to Driver and my smile vanishes. I need to talk to Surge sooner than later. He's sitting down next to Tank. Tank hands Cassie another bottle of water. I think I have some time right now to settle this. I point at Surge and drag him into the back room to talk again. Just like when he told me to leave for Mexico. Except, this time, I'll be the one talking, and hopefully getting some answers for once.
When the waiter-door is safely closed between us and the rest of the crew, I lower my voice and harden my expression as best I can. This man isn't someone I just met. He isn't some asshole trying to kill me or my friends. He's more than that. But I have some serious problems with what I've heard.
"What is it, Bomb?" he asks, folding his arms and leaning back against an old fridge.
"I've heard some serious shit about you, Surge, since I was in Mexico. Some shit that, depending how you answer, could change a lot of things around here."
