by Brook Wilder
“Joel,” Carla said softly. After a few moments without a response, she jostled him slightly, “Joel, are you asleep?”
“Well, not anymore, sugar,” Joel said sleepily, blinking open heavy lidded eyes. “What is it?” It amazed her that he could hear the note of worry in her voice when she hadn’t even been away of it, not the way he was. So attuned to her that he couldn’t read her emotions like words on a page.
“It’s Hot Wheels,” she said simply, and Joel was instantly alert, his silver gaze sliding over to meet hers.
“What about her?” he asked, and it wasn’t sleepiness in his voice this time, but weariness. She knew he still blamed himself even if no one else did.
“Well, how are we going to get her out? How do we free her?”
“We’ll post bail as soon as we can. Should be pretty soon. So she won’t have to spend any more time than necessary in a cell,” Joel said, his tone growing serious as Carla shuddered.
“I just can’t imagine her in prison. She’s so energetic, and full of life, and…”
“Vivacious,” Joel interjected with a small smile and Carla nodded, biting her lower lip and worrying it.
“Exactly. Vivacious. She’ll wither locked up like that.”
“She’s stronger than you give her credit for, Carla. I’ve known her a long time and to say she’s had a rough past is a big understatement. Underneath all that southern sass is pure steel, believe me. She would do just fine, but that’s not to say we won’t do everything we can to make sure she goes free. I know some good lawyers.”
“There are lawyers for Motorcycle gangs?” Carla asked, a sudden spark of humor shining in her bright blue eyes and Joel chuckled.
“Hell, darling, there are lawyers for everything, anything, as long as you can pay.”
“Well, we have the money from the deal now. From selling the shipment. You can use my share of it to pay for her bond, or the lawyers. Whatever it takes,” Carla said and Joel was silent for so long she wondered if he’d heard her or not, until suddenly his lips were on hers, not hard and aggressive like before but soft, and so sweet it made her chest tighten painfully and tears prick the corners of her eyes.
“You would do that for her?” he finally asked, his voice like gravel as he dragged the words out.
“Of course I would. She’s been a friend, you all have. If I can help I want to,” he leaned down and kissed her again, drinking her words straight from her lips before finally pulling back enough for her to see the mysterious look in his silver eyes, now a stormy gray.
“Carla, you are the most amazing, selfless, good hearted, sweetest, kindest women I have ever known. You are beautiful, not just on the outside, which is sexy as hell,” Joel growled those words as he grabbed her hip and pulled her body into his, “But on the inside too. It’s a rare thing, bluebird. My bluebird.”
Just then, Joel opened his mouth to say something else, but his words were lost as the shrill ringtone of a cell phone echoed through the room. They both searched around, finally finding the ringing phone in the pocket of Carla’s jeans. She glanced at the caller id and answered it with an apologetic look in Joel’s direction.
“Hello?”
“Carla? Oh my god, it’s Elle.”
“I know. What’s up, you sound–”
“Crazed? Panicked? Freaked out?”
“Well, yeah, honestly,” Carla couldn’t keep the small grin off her face at her friend’s over dramatic antics but the smile faded as she continued.
“It’s because I am, Carla! I don’t know what’s going on but Maurice has been snooping around your place, with cops! I’ve been keeping an eye on things but…what the hell is going on?”
Carla knew it was serious because her friend never cursed, she didn’t even like to say heck or darned.
“Look, Elle, thanks for keeping an eye on my house for me but I can’t really tell you. I don’t want to involve you in this thing.”
“It’s those bikers isn’t it? Joel? And that…that infuriating man.”
“Honey?” Carla finally supplied. She still wondered what had happened between them that night at the clubhouse but at Elle’s shriek at his name she doubted her friend would ever tell her.
“Yes, that one.”
“Actually, Honey has nothing to do with it. It’s just that, things have gotten a little more complicated that we had expected. But it’s almost over. Almost.”
“Well, you better make it over for real, Carla, or you’re going to get in trouble with the police. What if you get arrested and have to go to jail?” Elle said, and it sounded like she was hyperventilating from across the other end of the phone.
“Really, we’ll take care of it. I’m just laying low for a little while, trying to keep out of Maurice’s way, you know?”
Trying, and failing, Carla thought bitterly to herself. She still didn’t understand how he always seemed to know where they were.
“Just promise me you’ll take care of yourself okay? And be careful with Joel!”
“I will, I will. I pro–” Carla paused, interrupted by the beep of another call trying to come through. She wondered who it could be, almost no one called her, “Hey Elle, hold on a sec, okay? I’ve got another call coming through.” She didn’t wait for her friend to respond before she hit the button to switch calls, not bothering to look at the caller id this time.
“Hello?” she answered again. There was a long, malignant pause from the other end of the line and she spoke again to fill it. “He…hello? Who is this?” she stuttered.
“Oh, you know who this is, Carla. You know exactly who it is.” Her entire body trembled as his familiar, dreaded voice seeped through the airwaves.
“M…Maurice?” Carla whispered, horror filling her and Joel was on instant alert at the sound of his name. He was by her side in an instant, his eyes filling with questions, and underneath that, a dire threat directed at her old boss.
“Of course it’s Maurice, Carla, who else would it be?” his voice was almost purring over the phone, “It’s definitely not your new scum biker boyfriend. You’re really slumming now, Carla.”
“Shut up, Maurice! I don’t work for you anymore. I don’t have to talk to you!” she snapped, moving to pull the phone away from her face and hang up then and there but his next words stopped her.
“You’re right. You don’t have to talk to me. But you do have to talk to the police.”
“What are you talking about?” Carla demanded, nausea making it hard to form the words.
“Why don’t you come outside and see for yourself?” Maurice chuckled evilly, “Oh, and bring that tattooed boyfriend of yours, too. They are really excited to talk to him.” He hung up then before she could ask for any more answers, not that he had given any.
“You heard?” Carla asked and Joel just nodded solemnly. He’d been close enough to hear every word. “Do you think he’s bluffing?” she wondered out loud as she put down her cell phone but Joel answered anyways.
“No. No, I don’t think so. But I do want to know what the fuck is going on, and how he found us here. No one knows about his place. No one!” Joel hissed, his voice soft but hard as he pulled on his clothes and Carla was right behind him.
He rushed out of the front of the cabin, pushing the door open angrily. If looks could kill, Maurice would be nothing but a pile of ash on the front lawn.
“What the hell is going on here?” he demanded angrily, “Who the fuck do you think you are?” Joel was shouting now and Carla hastened out of the front door, her heart dropping at the sight that greeted her as she ran outside.
There was Maurice, just as he’d said, and behind him were four squad cars, their lights flashing, even as the sirens where blessedly silent. Carla looked at the faces of the officers lined up in front of them, Maurice hiding behind their bodies, using them to shield himself from Joel’s’ anger like the coward he was.
“I asked what the hell is going on?” Joel demanded again, repeating his question. “Is so
mebody going to tell me?”
“You’re gonna get exactly what you fucking deserve, you dirty biker!” Maurice shouted, his own face going a particularly violent shade of red in rage, “I got you! Don’t you get it? I beat you! You are going to fucking regret ever messing with me. I’ll make sure you never see the light of day again! You are going to–”
“That’s enough, sir,” one of the officers interrupted. He looked to be the oldest and, after giving Maurice a stern look to silence him after he opened his mouth to continue, the cop stepped forward.
That stern look was now trained on Carla, who fought not to flinch, and then Joel. He looked like he could have been talking about the weather for all that it affected him. The officer took another step forward, separating himself from the still glowering Maurice before speaking again.
“Are you Joel?” Joel nodded shortly, silently, and the cop turned to her, “and that makes you Carla, I assume. Carla Jensen?” She nodded as well, trying to keep her sudden fear from her expression.
“Wha…Why are you here?” she forced out the stuttering words, hating the way they broke as she spoke, but at least he finally answered. After he did, she almost wished he hadn’t.
“You are both under arrest under suspicion of drug trafficking, theft, and illegal movement of banned substances over state lines.”
“This is ridiculous! We…we’ve just been here–” Carla started, but stopped at a hard look from Joel, stoic and silent as one of the officers came over to put cuffs on his wrist. Only then did she notice that he hadn’t said a word since the officer started speaking and she followed his example, keeping her mouth shut. He gave her an encouraging nod as he was escorted to one of the police cars, and she to a separate one.
As she ducked her head to get in the back seat, her stomach clenched painfully as doubt and fears threatened to overwhelm her, but one last look at Joel before he was shut away behind the car door gave her the strength she needed to stem the tears that desperately wanted to fall.
Carla watched Joel ride away from her, the lights still flashing red and blue and she felt like she was in some sort of dream, or maybe a nightmare. Her dazed gaze swung over toward the front of the cabin and landed on Maurice, her old boss. Definitely a nightmare.
He was watching them, his face, still red from his earlier outburst was now transformed. Glee, pure and evil, twisted his expression into some macabre facsimile of a smile. It was more a snarl than anything else. Like a predator that had finally chased down its prey and had gone in for the killing stroke.
Carla’s stomach knotted even tighter at that expression, because she knew. She knew Maurice would never give up now, not until he got his weed back, not until she and Joel were both in prison. Not until he finally won. And by that expression of triumph, he obviously thought that he had.
But as she watched him, gloating in his victory, her own resolve strengthened. It didn’t matter if he thought he’d won. She wouldn’t give up, not on herself, and especially not on Joel. Because things happened, and somehow, they would deal with it. Together.
Chapter 25
Joel fumed as he watched Carla grow smaller and smaller in the rear-view window of the police cruiser until she was just a blurry shape in the back of the other squad car. When he couldn’t make her out at all he turned back around, settling himself as comfortably as he could with his hands still cuffed behind his back.
This wasn’t the first time he’d been in this same situation, taken in for some charges or other, but he had a sinking feeling in his gut this time. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the triumphant grin on that bastard Maurice’s face, or because Carla was involved. She was tangled up in all of it and he knew for a fact that she’d never had to go through something like this. He prayed she would just continue to follow his lead and stay quiet.
That was the only way to protect herself, to protect him and the others. He thought of Hot Wheels. They were still trying to build a case against her but didn’t have enough physical evidence, just supposition. But if Carla said the wrong thing, revealed the wrong thing, that could all change. She could unwittingly hand the authorities everything they needed to nail not only Hot Wheels, but him and the Dirty Cruisers as well.
Joel shook off the thought. He knew Carla, and he knew she would never intentionally rat them out. It was just what she could unintentionally do or say that had cold sweat breaking out across his brow as they drove back through the winding, mountainous roads towards the state trooper facility that ran just off of the highway.
He didn’t see the rocky cliffs that they drove past or the towering shrubby trees and green scrub bushes. He didn’t even notice the immense blue sky that winked cheerfully down at them. Now the only thing he could see were her eyes, wide, scared sapphires in her pale face looking at him, pleading and begging for help that he couldn’t give her. Not now, anyways.
Joel jiggled the handcuffs, testing their strength surreptitiously as the officers in the front of the car stared placidly ahead, as if he wasn’t there at all.
“So,” he said suddenly, breaking the intense silence, “how exactly did you guys come across us? That cabin is pretty secluded.” Joel made sure to keep his voice as casual and conversational as possible, as if they were sitting at the bar having a beer instead of him, locked in cuffs and trapped in the back seat. His legs scratched against the peeling leather and he tried to ignore the smell of humanity that pervaded the space, and probably always would despite how many times it got cleaned.
They didn’t respond for so long that Joel was certain they were just going to ignore him, but finally the officer in the passenger seat turned his head slowly back until his sunglasses were pointing towards where Joel was sitting.
“I would suggest,” the cop drawled softly, “that you keep your mouth shut until we’re in the interrogation room. Don’t you worry. We’ll have plenty of time to talk then, and I’m sure you’ve got plenty of more interesting things to tell us.”
“I doubt that,” Joel growled softly to himself, knowing that they weren’t going to let anything slip. But it gnawed at him, the problem. Like an itch that he couldn’t scratch. Somehow, someway, at every step and with every move they made, Maurice and the cops were there as if they somehow knew the plan before Joel and his crew had even figured it out yet.
If he didn’t know the Dirty Cruisers better, he would have been suspicious that they had a mole. Someone feeding the police insider information and ratting out the club, but that was impossible. He knew Tucker and Honey like brothers and Hot Wheels would give her life before betraying them. Her actions alone were proof enough of that if he needed any. And even Viper, with his quick temper and sarcasm had absolute loyalty within the club. They had all proven themselves over and over again in the years they’d been with the Dirty Cruisers. But how then?
One explanation echoed through his mind and he shied away from it, but that didn’t stop his thoughts from tumbling the possibility in circles. Carla. She was the only one who hadn’t been tested by past situations. She didn’t owe anything to the club. But even still, it didn’t make sense. She wasn’t working with Maurice. She couldn’t be. She practically bristled with hate and loathing whenever the man came up.
Unless it’s all an act, an insidious voice whispered. Unless she’s just been playing everyone like fools.
Everything inside him rioted at the idea but some part of it stuck, lodged deep in his mind, taking root and growing despite himself because, the truth was, he couldn’t come up with any other explanation for what had happened. The only way for the cops to find them at the safe house was for someone to give away the address and the only viable person to do that was Carla.
Joel could practically feel his heart shatter as the realization settled over him. After everything, the emotions he felt for her, still had for her even now realizing the truth just cut him that much deeper. Because he knew then, with a terrible clarity, that he was falling for her. Hard. Maybe he already had. And that jus
t made the betrayal so much worse than anything else he could imagine.
His thoughts were cut off as the police car pulled into the station parking lot and braked to a stop in front of the door. The officers exited first and Joel just sat there, suddenly numb from the pain of his realization. He didn’t want it to be true. His mind desperately searched for another way, but with every dead end, that numbness grew until he felt like a cold, empty shell all the way through. By that time, the officers had pulled open the back door of the car and dragged him to his feet.
Joel was blinded by his twisting thoughts as they led him by his still-cuffed hands angled painfully behind his back through the dingy grey and uniform beige of the police station. There were other officers there but he ignored them all, his gaze trained on his boots, taking one heavy step and then another and another. He moved forward through what felt like quicksand, but he had no choice except to keep going.
