Then there were Jake and Hector. I'd seen them as sycophants who just followed Trevor because they'd known each other for so long. I remembered the way weak-willed people followed around quarterbacks in high school, mimicking their behaviors and acting as yes-men whenever necessary. But this wasn't high school and Trevor was not the charming quarterback. Here in the club, Jake and Hector were more than just yes-men, they were ready, willing and able. They were eager to show that they could go anywhere and do anything that was asked of them. That's a quality you can't ever be surrounded by enough of when you're a leader. Someone always has to do the dirty job, and that's when you need guys like them.
Needles was still a bit of a mystery, but one thing was certain - he was unstoppable. Wherever he'd come from and whatever language he spoke, he was the rock that the whole club was built on. You need someone like Needles to rally around. But he wasn't a machine. It's easy to look at someone like him and see nothing more than a robot with a big gun. He had his own desires and his own drive to excel. In Trevor he saw a chance to be valued for one aspect of his physicality. I dearly hoped I could show him the value of everything he brought to the table.
Ian was another story entirely. Everyone knew why he was there. He and Trevor had been inseparable for years. He'd been there when the club was founded, and everyone assumed he'd been around when we rode into the sunset for the last time. Integrity was written all over him, even more than his tattoos. The deeper mystery was where that integrity came from. He was willing to fight and die for the club he'd built, but why? For guys like Needles and Cyrano, the club was larger than life. Ian didn't see things that way though. When you build something with your own hands, you get to know every piece and no matter how large the creation, it feels small. That's the only way you can keep control of it, after all. Control is great, but it has a dark side - the ability to leave it all behind. When Trevor died, Ian had every reason to cut his ties and run like hell. He didn't, and I was only beginning to understand that I was the reason.
I'd thought that the whole idea of pushing me to lead the club had come on him in the moment back at that diner, but it went back a lot further. He'd seen the potential in me from the moment we met. That potential had kept him in the club when everything seemed to be lost, and it had attracted him to me more than any outfit I put on or any flirtation I might have made in his direction when Trevor's back was turned. As I stood there, evaluating the strength of our club, the final piece of the puzzle came to me. The love that was blossoming between Ian and I was strong enough to survive anything. When he looked at me, he saw a great leader. His belief in me was enough to make his dreams a reality. When we were together, nothing was impossible.
My attention shifted back to the matter at hand. All of my dreamy thoughts about how capable we all were had to give way to the nuts and bolts of the situation. We had a job to do and if it didn't work out, all the love in the world wasn't going to save us.
"They're holed up in the old Ninukab warehouse," Lewis told us, "It wasn't hard to find them at all. When you said that they were fake cartel, I got the idea that they were probably just a bunch of low lives. Guys like that talk big. Finding a group of jerks like that who just came into a lot of money was mostly a matter of asking around among people who were interested in selling them something."
"Drug dealers?" I asked him.
"Yeah, mostly," he said. "The word is out on the street that those guys have a pile of cash and are looking to experience the finer things in life."
"Let's just hope they haven't bought too many already," Ian chimed in.
"Okay, good work guys," I told them. "Once Needles, Jake and Hector get back, we'll go over the plan. I hope you guys are feeling fresh, because we're not getting any sleep tonight."
"Ready and willing, prez," Cyrano said with a smile.
I turned to Kevin who was still sitting by the door to the garage.
"Kevin, how's that van coming? We need it," I told him.
"Van's fine but it looks like shit," he said.
"Okay, Cyrano and Lewis, you get to help Kevin make that thing look like new. New paint, everything. When we roll up on those guys, I don't want them to recognize the van. We need every moment of confusion we can get."
The three of them nodded and headed back out to the garage to get to work. Ian was sitting on the couch smiling at me like he was Mr. Miyagi or something. I couldn't help but smile back at him. I felt as proud of myself as he did. Everything was going according to plan, and that was a strange sensation.
"Guns blazing, huh?" he said.
I sat down on the couch next to him and put my hand in his. His fingers were warm and soft and I couldn't help but focus on the man I'd fallen for rather than the challenge that lay in front of us. His tenderness and handsome figure were only overshadowed in my mind by the belief he carried in my abilities. Nothing turns a girl on more than a guy who thinks she can rule the world.
"It's the only way," I told him. "Speaking of which, we're going to need some. Needles is covered, and most of the other guys have pieces, but I sent Trevor's along to be buried, and we're probably going to need more than just a few pistols anyway."
"I think I've got that covered," he said, "Let's take a ride."
He led me out to the lot and we mounted our bikes. With all the planning and scheming it was sometimes easy to forget that motorcycles were what this whole club was about. The motorcycle is the perfect image of American individuality in a lot of ways. We live in a place where you can go anywhere and do anything. When you've got a bike, you can go where others can't. You can move between the obstacles that stand in your way. You can ride alone or with a pack. In the end, it's about freedom.
We rode along towards the outskirts of town. I didn't know where he was leading me, but I trusted that Ian had the club's best interests in mind. If I said we needed hardware, I was sure he had the answer. I was beginning to rely on Ian greatly, and I couldn't have been happier to do so. Having someone you can lean on is important, but only if you know they're built like a marble statue. The thought of that made me grin.
Eventually we pulled up to a small house that was surrounded on all sides by empty lots full of nothing more than dust and old tires. The whole place looked like it could collapse at any moment. I'd expected him to lead me to a gun shop with a liberal policy on three-day waiting periods or something, not a dirt farm.
"Where the hell are we?" I asked him.
"This is where I grew up," he said. My jaw went slack for a moment. I knew Ian came from humble beginnings, but this was something else. Pieces started to fall into place in my mind. All of Trevor and Ian's stories of growing up together had been about dinner with Trevor's parents, trips to the Grand Canyon with Trevor's parents and all the fun, new toys that Trevor would have to play with. Ian didn't have any of that. If he'd grown up here, he didn't have much of anything. The whole place looked abandoned, and I found myself wondering how long it had been since he'd been back here.
I followed him into the house silently and carefully. There were a lot of memories here - most of them bad, if I had to guess. I didn't want to tread on anything precious or terrible.
"My dad was a bit of a survivalist nut," he said, "He owned all the lots around here and had dreams of making some kind of compound where he'd be safe from whatever imaginary demons were haunting him that week. Here."
He lifted up a rug that was in equal parts full of holes and stains, revealing the dusty and worm-eaten floorboards beneath - along with a thick metal ring that was sunken into the floor. He pulled it up and revealed a dark ladder that descended into the cellar. I peered into the hole while he searched among the cupboards for a flashlight. When he found one he gave me a nod and started down the ladder. I followed him down, unsure of what to expect in a place like this.
He swung the flashlight around the walls and I saw why he'd brought me here. Every vertical surface was hung with weapons. Some of them were guns and some were old replicas and stag
e props that would have looked at home in an old Errol Flynn movie. It was a strange collection to say the least. I couldn't imagine what use we'd have for a fencing sword, but the guns were another story.
"Dad never got around to building that compound," he said, "But mostly because he spent all of our money on these. He never even used the damn things. He'd just bring home a new one every other week and shove it down here, waiting for judgment day or whatever."
Ian grabbed a large canvas bag off one of the work benches and started filling it up with guns and ammunition. Most of the firearms were small, but here and there were a few pieces that would have made Needles proud. He stowed as much in the bag as he could, along with a few boxes that were so dusty and old I couldn't make out the writing on them. I left him to his hunt, knowing that he had a much better idea than I did when it came to what was useful at what wasn't. My attention was focused on something else entirely.
In a glass case, I could see the glint of shining steel. I stepped over to investigate. When the case was open, I saw a sword hanging there that was one of the most beautiful things I'd ever laid my eyes on. It was two feet of gleaming metal with a sharp edge. I lifted it carefully from the case and found that it was a lot lighter than I'd imagined. Ian caught sight of what I'd found.
"That was his pride and joy," he told me, "It was one of the last swords that was actually used in a war. Some British guy in World War 2 owned it, I think."
Sitting in the case was a scabbard made of old leather. It was cracking with age and looked about as likely to fall apart as the house we were standing beneath. I slipped the sword into its sheath and grinned at Ian as he shouldered the bag full of guns.
"What?" I asked him as he shook his head with a smile. "I need something inspirational."
We pulled ourselves up the ladder and left the house behind. I wondered if maybe Ian wanted to search through the other rooms for lost treasures of his youth, but said nothing. I got the feeling that he was more inclined to simply leave that place behind and all his memories with it. It clearly hurt him just to be there and I didn't want to linger if we didn't have to.
He tightened the strap on the bag over his shoulder and we got on our bikes. I had attached the scabbard to my belt and it hung by my side with an unfamiliar weight. A sword makes for a really impractical weapon in a gunfight, but carrying it made me feel like really was one of those great leaders from a history book. Plus, I have to admit, it looked pretty cool. I hoped that style would be the only thing I'd need it for.
Ian pointed his bike towards home, but I stopped him.
"Wait," I said, "There's one more thing. Follow me." I knew this might be our last chance to be together. In the morning we were going into battle. We had a good plan and we had good people. In the heat of the moment, though, would that be enough? Even if we could get the job done, could I, as the leader, ensure that we would all come back alive? I couldn't make promises like that. When you live on the edge and walk a path as dangerous as ours, nothing is certain. The sun will rise in the morning and beyond that, I can't say for sure. If tomorrow was destined to be the last day for Ian or I, I knew I had to make our last night count.
We rode along the darkened road for almost twenty minutes before I found what I was looking for. Out here, there's nobody around. In fact, there's almost nothing around. The city gives way to the desert quickly out here. Just finding a grassy spot with a tree is a tough search. I slowed the bike down and rode it up to the tree. I'd never been out this way before, but I knew I could find a stop if I looked hard enough.
I got off the bike and stretched my legs. Ian did the same, dropping the canvas bag next to his bike. He stepped slowly around the tree, gazing out at the desert sky around us.
"Beautiful," he said, "But why are we here?"
I simply stared at him as I unbuckled my belt and pulled it free of the loops. I tossed it and my new sword down onto the grass and stepped towards him. It didn't take him more than a second to realize my motive for finding this deserted spot of grass in the middle of nowhere. The night was getting chilly, and I needed to feel his hands on me.
He stepped to meet me at the last minute before I reached him, and put out his arms to catch me. His powerful hands moved across my hips and around my back, pulling me close. Our lips met and the spark that had been kindled there blossomed into fiery life once more. The passion between us we inextinguishable, even if it sometimes had to be put on hold because of other matters. At a moment’s notice, it could become a roaring bonfire of desire for one another. Here, miles from any other person, there was nothing keeping us from each other's embrace.
We kissed powerfully. I could feel the way he pressed himself against me and I pressed myself back against him just the same. There was a common language to our bodies. With every movement from one of us, the other would react in a complementary matter. Every forceful action was greeted with equal and opposite force or with complete surrender. The result was an exotic dance where both of us seemed to know every step.
I ran my hands down his back and then thrust them upwards into his shirt. His skin felt warm - almost hot - against my cool fingers. I could feel the muscles beneath his skin rippling with promise and twitching at the soft touches of my fingertips. His chest pressed against mine and we could feel one another breathing deeply, struggling against our own kisses. I needed more of him and I needed it right away. From the way his hands were tearing at my clothes, I could tell that he felt the same about me.
I pushed away from him, intent to relieve myself of my burdensome clothing. I crossed my arms in front of my chest and lifted my shirt away in one smooth movement. Ian began to do likewise, dropping his vest and his shirt in a pile beside him before going to work on his thick boots. We spared not even a single moment for one another, focusing all of our attention on getting naked as quickly as possible. All the same, I caught him struggling to split his attention between unbuttoning his own jeans and watching me as I slowly descended mine down my smooth, shapely legs.
Seconds later, we were standing before one another, completely bare. We stepped together slowly, letting the heat of our bodies cast off steam into the cool night air. I ran my fingers gently across the tattoos that decorated his chest, downwards towards his firm stomach. He kept his hands at his sides, allowing me to explore his body in ways that I'd been unable to on our first encounter in the office. Ian was built just like a man should be. He was tall, but not a giant. His muscles were firm and powerful but without all the bulk that can make a man look like a cartoon character. He was smooth where he ought to be smooth and had hair where he ought to have hair.
I slid my hand down between us and teased my fingers gently over the base of his member. It hung there between our bodies, thick and powerful. As I brushed against it, I could see him hardening into something that I couldn't possibly resist. My fingers wrapped around his shaft and stroked him softly towards me. I could see a shiver ride through his body as I touched him, and he couldn't resist touching me as well.
With one hand he brushed against my breast, while the other pulled me closer to him, until my hand was tight between us, stroking the length of his rigid cock. My body was on fire with anticipation. I could feel the growing heat between my legs that begged me to allow this man inside of me. He was everything I ever wanted but never believed I deserved. His thumb brushed gently across my nipple and he squeezed my breast softly. His eyes were fixed on mine with an intense stare that spoke volumes of his desire for me.
I pushed him backwards with one hand pressed against his chest while my other maintained my grip around the seat of his manhood. He let himself be pushed to the ground gently and I went down with him. He laid down onto the grass and stretched himself out. I straddled his stomach as I kissed along his neck and collarbone while my hand continued to stroke him into complete hardness. When I couldn't resist any longer I pushed my body down along his, pressing the head of his cock against the slick wetness between my legs. With a slight gasp
I pressed myself down around him and released my hand, allowing our bodies to guide one another entirely.
I pressed my hands against his broad chest and he held his own firmly on my hips. He was already pulling me towards him. I began rocking my hips atop him, arching my back so I could feel every inch of him inside of me. I felt stretched and full but squeezed myself down hard around him all the same. His thick member was deep inside me and every movement from my body brought me greater and greater pleasure. The desert wind blew across our bodies, urging us towards the beautiful way that our bodies connected.
I lifted my hips and brought them down again, enjoying the way his shaft slid easily inside of me while still feeling like a hard pillar of marble that I could scarcely contain. His hands gripped my sides and lifted me as well before pulling me down onto him and causing me to squeal with pleasure. His breath was rapid and warm and I could see the way it steamed in the evening air.
"Ohhh Ian," I moaned, "Oh god, Ian."
"Ride me, Tina," he said, "I want you to ride me hard and fast."
I spurred myself into motion, bucking my hips against him and allowing his thick manhood to penetrate me deeper still. Our bodies sang together and we both were given over to animalistic noises. We grunted and moaned and cried out in pleasure as we gave ourselves over to the most basic of carnal desires. Again and again my body impacted against his, the sound of our flesh meeting one another casting out across the grass and the sand beyond it. The stars shone above us, and I leaned my head back to stare up at the sky as I grinded my body against his.
Wind Riding Page 5
