by Evelyn Glass
“Zeke Draper.”
“Boss of...?”
“He’s, ah, the president of the Midnight’s Hounds... you know, the motorcycle club.”
“I’ve heard of it, yeah,” she said, nodding. “I’d expect him to ride a Harley.”
“He does. As well as this. He works in security, so I think he rides this one on the job. The Harley’s for show. That’s what I’m aiming for one day.”
Sophie smiled. “Anyway, leave it with me. It won’t take long.”
The young man gave a small wave of thanks as he turned and left.
“This could do with an awesome paint job,” Sophie said, running her hand down the body. “Such a shame to let such a powerful beast get dusty.”
“What’s that?” Stephan asked as he came back from lunch. He downed the last of his cola then threw the bottle into the trash can. “Woooh,” he chirped as the bottle landed perfectly inside it.
“Oh nothing,” Sophie said, smiling. “I was just saying I’d like to do-over this machine. I’d love to Sophie-fy it.”
“One day, dude, one day,” he replied. “First things first, let’s get it moved so you can get that flat sorted. I’ve got a long list of repairs coming your way, I’m afraid.”
Sophie grumbled. Much as she loved her job, it was Friday afternoon. She wanted to go for drinks with her roommate Lydia and some friends. If the list were too long, she’d end up running late. That’s just the way it was. They worked until the jobs were done. That’s why they had such a good reputation, though. She knew it was important.
She began rolling it over to the workspace but slowed and bent down to hold her ear closer to the bike. “Do you hear a rattling noise?”
Stephan frowned. “Keep pushing it.”
She moved it further across the concrete floor, and when the jingling noise started up again, they frowned at each other. “I can’t say I’ve ever heard that from one of these before,” she said.
“No, me neither.”
Stephan crouched next to the bike as Sophie kicked the stand down to support it. He knocked on the metal, tracing a line along the body to the exhaust where the sound changed to more of a thud.
“There’s something in there,” Sophie whispered.
Stephan took a small, metal torch from his overall pocket and shone it into the exhaust pipe. “Holy shit,” he whispered. “If that’s what I think it is, step back now.”
Sophie’s heart quickened. “What is it?”
Stephan squinted as he tried to get a better view inside. “Don’t freak out, but... it’s a bomb.”
“Don’t freak out? What the...? Is it live? Could it go off?”
“Calm down, I can see the wires. I think it’s bust. A dud.”
Stephan knew his shit about bombs. He’d served on a military bomb squad in his early twenties. Sophie trusted him with her life. Literally.
“But... why? Was it meant for us?”
Stephan rose slowly, shaking his head. “I doubt it. Who’d bother targeting us? It’s more likely to be for the owner of this bike. Did you get a good look at who brought it in?”
“Yeah, but it wasn’t his bike,” Sophie said, her brow furrowed. “Some young guy brought it in for the boss of his club. The...” She scratched her forehead. “... Midnight’s Hounds.”
“I know of them,” Stephan said, nodding. “The boss... what’s his name?”
“I think he said it was Zeke.”
“Well, Zeke must have done something to piss someone off. Big time.”
“Could it be a rival biker gang?” Sophie asked, leaning in closer as if conspiring.
“Who knows? Let’s see what Zeke says about it all later.”
“Should we call the cops?”
“No. Not yet, anyway,” Stephan said, folding his arms and scrutinizing the bike from further back. “Let’s not mess with biker politics just yet.”
Stephan walked over to the small office and began typing on the keyboard. “Sophie, come and see this!” he called out to her.
She had her arms folded, watching the bike cautiously as if she thought it could get up to no good if she took her eyes off of it. “Coming,” she said, peeling her eyes away and striding over to the door of the small room.
The office was a mess. Sophie had offered several times to tidy it, but Stephan freaked every time. He knew where everything was. If anything was so much as moved an inch his tight ship could sink, or so he believed. The one thing she had achieved was to ban all saucy posters of bare-breasted women gifted to the garage from oil and parts suppliers every month. They could now boast of being the only non-misogynistic repair shop in town. The suppliers loved Sophie. They never offered topless posters anymore. In fact, one particular brand took her argument back to head office and banned the posters completely. He had a real thing for Sophie. Well, most of the men who visited the shop did. And the fact she was completely uninterested and more devoted to her machines, was nothing but a turn-on for them.
She sighed to look at the state of the office, before glancing at the computer screen.
“This is the model of bomb I think we have in that exhaust,” Stephan said, examining the image. “I saw one of these on the job. A long time ago now. But these are easy to make. My guess is that it’s someone with a military background, but who’s made this at home. It’s basic. But lethal. Whoever made this wanted this guy not just dead, but wiped off the planet completely. There wouldn’t be anything left.”
Sophie winced and gritted her teeth. “That’s... terrifying.”
She moved a note on the glass window to the side to peer at the bike. “Are you sure it’s safe now?”
“Yeah. The wires are disconnected. Maybe they came out with the vibrations of the bike. Maybe the jolt the bike would have got when the tire burst gave the bomb enough of a shake to jerk the wires out. Who knows? That flat could have saved someone’s life. Or several lives.”
Sophie shivered. “What if this Zeke guy’s a nasty piece of work? What if by telling him about this bomb it launches some kind of vendetta? He must be a pretty bad guy for someone to want him dead. Maybe he’s done some horrible things.”
They glanced at each other, their faces ashen and solemn. They would find out soon enough.
Stephan’s job - remove the deactivated bomb. Sophie’s – repair the flat. Zeke Draper was due to arrive in only a couple of hours.
Chapter Two
Zeke
“Nice work, Draper,” Toby said, patting Zeke’s shoulder firmly. “Our VIP has been delivered safely to the conference. That could have been messy, with all those protestors and the social media threats about a possible attack. Thanks for being so thorough.”
“All part of the job,” Zeke replied, his hands clasped behind his back. Sometimes he forgot this wasn’t the military anymore. He’d spent so many years standing to attention it just came naturally. He softened his stiff shoulders and shook out his feet as if reminding himself to let go of the past. This was security. Not an Army drill.
Toby smiled and stretched his arm up, clasping his hands behind his bald head. His large, round tummy strained against the wood, spilling out onto the desktop. Zeke found it hard to imagine that Toby used to be the hottest bodyguard in town when he set up this private firm twenty years ago, fresh out of the FBI. He’d heard the stories of hostage situations and abseiling down tower blocks over many a beer, but that guy from the past seemed so far removed from the man he knew today. Zeke looked down at his own, lean frame and vowed on the spot never to swap the gym for Dunkin’ Donuts.
His own father had never been much for sports, apart from watching baseball and taking Zeke to the odd game. He indulged on all the wrong foods, smoked, drank too much, and cheated on his wife - Zeke’s mother. He basically showed Zeke how not to be a man worthy of respect. And as if to prove a point, Zeke traveled the opposite path in life, aiming for optimal fitness. Monogamy was a harder quality to prove, seeing as he never got close enough to a girl to call it a s
erious relationship. But when the time came, he knew he would devote himself to the right woman. He wouldn’t mess up like his dad did... on many occasions.
Zeke said goodbye to Toby and headed for the change rooms. He took off his black trousers, bomber jacket, and bulletproof vest, hung them in his locker, and pulled on jeans, a black T-shirt, and his FA biker jacket. Another day, another crisis averted. Tomorrow was his day off. He often struggled with those - days off. Unless he had some major home repair project to focus on, his mind could wander back to places he didn’t want it to. The screams. The blood. He’d put all the trauma behind him, but he had to keep busy to forget the faces of the men he lost on that last tour of duty.
He sighed. Time to collect his bike from Stephan’s on Brook Street. That damned bike was nothing but trouble; always needing repairs. At least most of the work he could do himself, but this time it was quicker just to pay for the work to be done and then he could ride home.
He breathed in the crisp late afternoon air. Spring was definitely his favorite season. The green buds on the cherry blossom trees overhead promised of new beginnings; a burst of new life. He could do with a new beginning. He loved his job, and he was happy at the helm of the Midnight’s Hounds, but there was something missing. If he wasn’t protecting politicians or celebrities or assisting government security sweeps, or heading up a bikers’ convention and representing the club, he was empty. He avoided time alone because then he had to confront this. He had no idea how to fill that void. He had a niggling fear it could never be filled. That the ghosts of his past would haunt his mind forever and he would never find inner peace.
The walk to Stephan’s wasn’t far. He smiled as he passed a mom and her toddler son who was riding a plastic toy motorbike and wearing an imitation biker helmet. The mom smiled back and turned to examine him from behind.
Oh dear. Had he given her the wrong impression? Women always seemed to be magnetized to him, but he had nothing to give at this point in time. Life was about building up coping strategies, being the best in his new field, and trying to be a good person to honor those that died from his unit. He was only twenty-seven. He needed time to figure things out before he could even contemplate a relationship. That being said, he wasn’t opposed to a little biker convention action every now and then. It wasn’t exactly hard to attract a one-night stand as the big chief. And his good looks, dark hair and muscular frame seemed to be a winning combination. Maybe in time, he’d be ready to devote himself to someone, but right now, the thought scared him shitless. He was content, for now, to go home alone.
He could see the lights on inside Stephan’s and made his way to the door at the side. He pushed the handle and popped his head in.
Who’s the blonde? He thought, his eyes falling upon Sophie as she stood before his Kawasaki with one hand on the waist of her overalls and one hand on her brow. Suddenly, a bell of recognition rung in his mind. He’d seen her in the local newspaper. She was supposedly the hottest young mechanic around. She’d won all sorts of training prizes.
“Is everything alright with that beast?” Zeke called out as he stepped into the shop.
The woman turned around with a start, and her mouth dropped open. “Ah... well... it is now,” she stammered.
Zeke frowned as he stepped closer. He saw her eyes trace over his jacket and stop at the Midnight’s Hounds symbol on his chest.
“You’re Zeke?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Zeke Draper?”
“Yes.”
“Owner of this bike?”
He laughed. “Yes. What’s with all the questions?”
She shook her head. “Sorry. It’s just... there’s.... we found something serious in the exhaust.”
“Jesus, it’s like you’re giving me the prognosis of a relative’s illness. It’s just a bike. I can pay the repairs, whatever the cost is.”
Sophie closed her eyes and shook her head again. “Sorry, it’s just I’ve never had someone bring in a bike in this way before.”
He fixed her with a confused frown. Was she for real? The bike was perfectly fine. All bikes got flats, and holes in their exhausts, if that’s what she was talking about.
“I’d better explain,” she said, wiping her greasy hands down her sides. “Come with me.”
Zeke followed her towards the small office, spying a framed photograph of the blonde holding a shiny spanner-shaped award. So she did know her motors after all.
He tried not to watch her hips sway as she approached the office door. He’d never met a woman like her.
“By the way, I’m Sophie,” she said, pausing at the doorway and turning to him. “I forgot to introduce myself. I’m just a little... shell shocked.... hmm... maybe that’s not the most appropriate term.”
Did she know about his history in the army? How could she know about that?
But as soon as he spotted what was sitting on a large metal tray on the workbench in the office, he knew she’d been referring to that. A bomb.
“What the hell is that doing here?” Zeke said, pointing to it.
“So you know what that is?” she asked, eyeing him curiously.
“Of course.” He stepped closer to it and leaned in to get a better look. “It’s quite badly made, but I know what it is alright. Seen far too many of those for my liking.”
“Oh really?”
He turned to her with a frown. “I was in the army for five years. I saw enough bombs to know one when I see one. But how did it get here?”
Sophie swallowed hard. “It arrived inside your bike.”
His head jerked backward in disbelief. “But I rode my bike this morning, just before it got a flat. I called young Wayne, and he took it here for me. How long has the bomb been inside it? It could have killed Wayne.”
“Unless...” Sophie trailed off and bit her lip before continuing. “What if Wayne planted it?”
Zeke shook his head. “He’s the sweetest kid around. He’d have no reason to do that.”
“My boss used to be a bomb disposal expert,” Sophie offered, stepping closer to the offending item. “He’s trying to trace these parts using serial numbers he found with a magnifying glass. He can help you find out who did this.”
“That’s really good of him, thank him for me,” Zeke said, sighing and running one hand along his jaw. “It’s crazy - I spend my days scouring for bombs and weapons to protect my clients and then here I am riding around town on top of some shitty homemade explosive right between my legs. Wow.”
He let out a chuckle at the irony and noticed Sophie was smiling too.
“So, how long have you worked here?” he asked.
She seemed surprised. “Since school. It’s all I know really. Well, that, and spray jobs, but that’s something I’m planning to get into further down the line.” She lowered her face shyly.
“That’s great,” he said, folding his arms and watching her expression change to a beaming smile. “You’re quite unique. I don’t think I’ve ever met a girl mechanic before,” he said. “And definitely not one who discovers bombs and doesn’t freak out.”
She laughed. “I might have freaked out just a little bit, to begin with. Anyway, aren’t you worried? Do you have any idea who would have done something like this?”
He looked back at the bomb, sitting there in complete innocence, just a pile of metal and wires on a tray. If its creator had been just a little bit smarter, he’d be dead by now.
“I don’t know who would have done this,” he admitted. “That’s something I’m gonna have to find out. Someone clearly wanted me dead. I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into this... not that it’s your concern after today. It’ll be out of your shop and out of your hair.”
Sophie shrugged. “Listen, if we can help – Stephan and me – we will. We’ll do some digging and see what we can find out.”
“Is Stephan your boyfriend?” he asked, and then inwardly cursed himself for coming across too inquisitive.
“No,” she
said, laughing.
“It’s none of my business anyway, I shouldn’t have asked. And thanks. For any help you can give me. I appreciate it. I’ll think everything over and let you know if I come up with any ideas that might tie in with what Stephan finds.”
“Sure.” Sophie glanced at her watch.
“Is it closing time?” Zeke asked.
“Not yet,” she said with a heavy sigh. “There’s one more repair job, but then I’m out. I’ve got drinks to go to. A girl can’t be covered in grease all the time.”
“No, she certainly can’t,” Zeke said, grinning. She was interesting. He couldn’t help imagining what she must look like all washed up, with no black smears on those porcelain cheekbones, her golden hair let loose... He shook his head to get rid of the thoughts. There was no time for distractions. He had to keep his head straight. Especially now he had an attempted murder to solve.
