Dizzy: A Steel Bones Motorcycle Club Prequel

by Cate C. Wells

  You can’t trust anyone but yourself.

  And now Dizzy doesn’t have to choose between his club and me. It’s like that cat in the box we learned about in Mrs. Flynn’s physics class. Schrödinger’s cat. Until you open the box, the cat’s not alive or dead.

  As the wind whips my hair into knots and numbs my cheeks, I’m in that space. Dizzy didn’t choose me. And he didn’t betray me, either.

  It’s a cold place to be, but I’m not stuck. I’m flyin’ forward.

  10

  DIZZY

  Heavy’s between me and the door. Any second now, there’s gonna be an epic showdown where I use my tool cabinet to bulldoze his gigantic ass out of the way. Nickel can get a piece, too, if he steps into it.

  “Listen.” Heavy raises his palms. “It looks bad.”

  “Don’t give a shit how it looks.”

  Heavy could have shown me Fay-Lee snappin’ pictures of blueprints with one of them James Bond cameras, and it wouldn’t make no difference. She’s mine. She done somethin’ wrong, I’ll make sure she don’t again, but no one else gets to lay a hand on her. Ever.

  “She clearly knows Rab. She lied about it.”

  “Did you ask her if she knew Rab?” I ask.

  Heavy scoffs. But it ain’t a stupid question.

  “Did you?” I direct the question to Nickel. He shrugs. Dude’s a single-use tool. He kills shit. Questioning shit ain’t in his wheelhouse.

  “I don’t think ‘bitch’ and ‘whore’ means you’re on good terms with a person,” I point out.

  When I find Rab Daugherty, he’s dead. That’s a given, regardless.

  “She wouldn’t be on good terms with the man if she was supposed to deliver blueprints and decided to shack up with you instead.” Heavy’s using his “reasonable” voice on me. He picked it up in college. He sure as shit didn’t talk that way when he was a scrub tryin’ to sweet talk me into fixin’ his ride.

  I snort. “Fay-Lee ain’t got nothin’ to her name but the clothes on her back. Lord knows she went through my house with a fine-tooth comb, lookin’ for loose change. She moved all my shit around. She ain’t sittin’ on a payday.”

  “Maybe she’s getting paid on delivery. Maybe they turned her out, and she’s doin’ it for a man.”

  My nails dig into my palms. No. She’s mine. No one’s takin’ her from me. If there’s a man, it don’t matter. He’s dead.

  “You’re too close. Let us take her to the clubhouse. Talk to her. When we find out what we need to know, you’re the first call. If she needs to be put down, we can do it quick. Painless.”

  I shake my head, my lips peeling back in a bitter grimace. “No.”

  “Dizzy, you got to be reasonable.”

  “You ain’t gonna fuckin’ touch her. And she ain’t goin’ nowhere. You want to ask her anything, you can do it at the kitchen table.”

  Heavy exhales slowly, stomps over to stare down at the project I’m working on. It’s still in pieces. Ain’t nothin’ to see. “Dizzy, you have to think about the club.”

  I hold my peace, his words echoing in my head. Put her down. He don’t get to fuckin’ look at her again.

  “Think it through,” he argues. “If Rab’s involved, the Rebel Raiders sent Chaos for the blueprints. That means the Rebel Raiders know there’s somethin’ going on with the buildings. They want to destroy us. Somehow, they stumbled on the way to do it. Now that Chaos is missing, they have confirmation they’re on the right track. But they got no moves left. They tipped their hand. It’s a dead end. Except for the house mouse.”

  “Her name’s Fay-Lee.”

  “She can put Chaos at the clubhouse the night he disappears. They collect one or two other pieces of evidence, they have us over a barrel. Blackmail. The Feds. She could put a RICO charge on every man in this club.”

  “She ain’t gonna say shit.”

  “You’ve known her a few weeks. I seen her ribs, man. All the Raiders need to do is offer her a few hundred.”

  “You can keep talkin’ all you want, college boy. You ain’t goin’ near her.”

  “You’re not seeing clearly.” He raises his voice, lets it boom. I remember when he was a pimply beanpole with an unhealthy infatuation with that card game where you roll dice. This master of the universe shit might work on civilians, but I ain’t impressed.

  “You understood back at the clubhouse that day when we found her. You think I changed my mind? She’s mine. You can talk to her inside the house with me right there, or you can fuck off.”

  “You’re not makin’ sense. We’re your brothers. We’re family.”

  I nod. That is true. But he don’t get it.

  “Yeah, we’re family. You gonna ask for my ride when you’re drunk? You gonna ask me to hand over my kids? Family don’t ask for that shit. And you’re president, you’re not God. You don’t get to decide what’s mine or not mine. She belongs to me. You want to come for her you go through me. End of story.”

  I fold my arms and raise an eyebrow. Nickel shifts from leg to leg, eyeballin’ us.

  And then a shot rings out. Close. Jesus. Fay-Lee.

  I sprint, Heavy on my heels.

  There’s Jed, pistol smoking.

  No Fay-Lee.

  “What the fuck happened?” Heavy roars.

  Jed points across the street. I grab him by the collar. “Did you shoot her? Is she hurt?”

  “She grabbed my gun. She ain’t hurt, man. She shot the ground. She got the jump on me. She ran. That way.” He jerks his weak chin at the woods.

  Shit. Shit.

  I run, heart crashing in my chest. Nickel, Heavy, and Jed are on my heels.

  “Spread out!” Heavy shouts.

  She was scared. She didn’t trust me to handle it. Goddamn it.

  “No one hurts her!” I roar. “Jed, put your fuckin’ piece away!”

  We crash through the undergrowth. You can run for a yard or so, but then thickets and gulches slow you down. The terrain favors a smaller person like her. I can’t hear her. Heavy’s busting through the woods like a stampeding elephant, sending birds squawking into the air.

  “Baby, come back,” I shout. “It’s okay. No one’s gonna hurt you.”

  A crow caws angrily, and there’s a violent flapping of wings from a towering maple.

  My heart’s stuck in my throat, messin’ with my breathing. She’s so fuckin’ delicate. Sassy and mouthy and clever. She’s a survivor, no doubt. But she’s a hundred pounds and change, not legal to drink, and she’s got no money, no ride.

  I got to find her.

  If she gets away, she’s not comin’ back. She ain’t stupid. Even if she had no idea what Chaos was doing, she knows Steel Bones wants her. She’s gonna run as far and as fast as she can. And she ain’t likely to luck out again with a washed-up dude like Chaos who was more interested in a payday than pussy. Oh, fuck.

  “Baby! Come on. Where are you?”

  We’re further apart now, but I can hear Heavy call the club on his phone, asking for backup.

  “No one touches her! Make it known!” I shout at him. I should have never left her. There’s no sign. No broken branches or trampled leaves. She didn’t come this way.

  This is a fuckin’ mess. The woods go on for miles. All the way to the river. I don’t let the kids ride dirt bikes out here. Too many hunters out of season.

  My chest tightens. What do I do?

  I can’t lose her.

  She’s—

  She’s perfect. I feel awake for the first time in years. She woke me up.

  I backtrack, scan for signs. I see where big men tore through, but if she came this way, they’ve destroyed the evidence. Jesus. What am I gonna tell the boys?

  Parker’s still lukewarm on her, but Carter gets the same dumb look I do when she comes in the room.

  My shoulders are heaving. I lean over to catch my breath, brace my hands on my knees. We gotta form a search party. She can’t be stuck out here at night. It’s freezing.

  �
��Yup. Let me talk to him. I’ll call you back.” Heavy’s hanging up his phone as he approaches through some trees.

  He claps a massive hand on my back.

  “Brother.”

  His grumbly voice echoes. The woods become still. Nickel and Jed have approached behind him.

  “That was Grinder. He was coming to join us. He just passed Fay-Lee on the main road.”

  My heart leaps.

  “She was ridin’ bitch behind Brick Daugherty.”

  Rab’s brother. VP of the Rebel Raiders.

  “Grinder turned to pursue, but he got stuck behind a cop at a red light.”

  “I’m sorry, man.” We all stare at our boots.

  Everything crashes. Everything breaks.

  Everything’s fucking shit.

  11

  FAY-LEE

  The old dude was right. When we pull up in front of Petty’s Mill Pawn, it’s closed. My luck keeps on goin’. They open at ten in the morning.

  My rescuer, Brick by the name on his cut, hoists himself off his bike and lights a cigarette.

  “Closed,” he says, nodding to the metal grate pulled down over windows displaying a trumpet, a stack of DVD players, and a collection of those gas trucks you can buy at Christmas.

  Brick is a keen observer of the obvious.

  I survey the street. I haven’t seen the whole town, but this is definitely the seedy section. Vacant store fronts. A package goods. A vape shop. A discount cell phone carrier.

  I touch the lump in my pocket. I do have one thing going for me. A fully charged phone.

  God, I didn’t want to call one of my sisters to bail me out, but it’ll be dark in a few hours, and already the wind’s whipping up into something nasty.

  “So what’s the plan?” Brick asks. “This ain’t a great neighborhood to be hanging out on the street.”

  I don’t know. I can’t sit on a bench and wait for the store to open. Steel Bones will be looking for me. It’d be a toss-up whether I’d freeze to death, or they’d find me first.

  And oh, shit. I can’t call home. Dizzy knows I’m from Dalton. I can’t go back there. Steel Bones would find me in no time.

  Dalton ain’t like the small towns where people are tight-mouthed and suspicious of strangers. It’s the kind of place where people will draw you a map to help you find what you’re lookin’ for and then give you a sob story about baby formula until you fork over a fiver. And they won’t have any kids.

  Carol or Dee might help me get home. None of my sisters would front me cash to go to New York City.

  All I’ve got is the gold ring.

  I’m so screwed, but I can’t stay here, dithering. If Heavy finds me, the game’s over.

  “Let’s go to my place,” Brick says, flicking his ash. “My woman will make dinner. You can take a minute to breathe.”

  This guy really wants me to go home with him. Not good. But what are my other choices? Steel Bones is the rock. This guy is the hard place. He’s pushin’ sixty, though, and I’m fairly sure I could fight him off, if it’s just him. But will it be just him where he’s planning to take me?

  Let me try something else.

  “Actually, I need a ride.”

  “Yeah? Where you headed?”

  “New York.”

  “New York?” Brick screws up his jowly face like I said outer space. “That’s a way away.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I was just headed home. Down on the flats. About five miles that way.” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder.

  I scrub a hand over my face. “Is there a bus stop?”

  “For school buses. The closest bus line is—shit—Shady Gap? Maybe Pyle.”

  “I don’t suppose you’re goin’ to Shady Gap?”

  He shakes his head. “Can’t say that I am.” His face brightens as if he just got an idea. It’s the fakest look. “Here’s an idea. I’m headed out tomorrow for Stonecut County. Spank the Devil.” A genuine grin splits his face. “The old lady’s gonna visit her sister. I’m flyin’ solo this year.”

  I’ve been hearing about Spank the Devil since I came to town. It’s a biker rally in the mountains north of here. A huge deal. Not Sturgis big, but respectable. They’ve even got a band headlining that I’ve heard on the radio.

  People will be there from all over. I could hitch a ride basically anywhere.

  “Why don’t I give you a ride there? We could hang. You could, uh, figure out your next move.”

  “Okay. Yeah. That would be great.” I scan the empty street. “I could meet you here. Once this place opens, I’ll have gas money.”

  Is this guy gonna go for that? I don’t really wanna go to his house. But I’ll need to find a place out of the weather to hunker down for the night. It’s gonna be a cold one.

  Fuck Steel Bones.

  I didn’t have shit to do with their drama.

  And fuck Dizzy. I don’t know exactly why I’m pissed at him, but I am. It’s preferable to the horrible feeling bubbling deep in my belly, black and sour and reeking of grief and hopelessness.

  So, yeah. Fuck Dizzy. I don’t need him. I don’t need anyone.

  I do need a fucking jacket, though.

  Brick shakes his head. “No can do. You ain’t met my old lady. She’d put me out if I left a kid our Becca’s age alone in front of a pawnshop. Hop on. You can crash at our place tonight. We’ll move out at dawn.”

  He offers me a reassuring smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes, and then he swings a beefy leg, remounting his bike.

  “Hop on, sweetheart. Dawn ain’t left for her sister’s yet. She’ll have dinner on by now, and she’s gonna be pissed if it gets cold.”

  There’s no way this isn’t a setup.

  Jed called this guy, and he was close enough to pick me up a half mile from Dizzy’s. He’s a Rebel Raider. I don’t know much, but obviously, they’re enemies of Steel Bones.

  And clearly, Jed’s playin’ both sides. Seems like the type. He has the face of that weasel from the children’s book where a mouse tries to avoid being made into soup.

  But if what Jed said was true, the Rebel Raiders want me alive.

  I could call Brick out. Ask him what the Raiders plan to do with me.

  Or I could play along. Maybe get dinner and a warm place to sleep. Maybe get some cash. And what is it they say? The enemy of my enemy is my friend?

  “Make up your mind, girl. I hate reheated lasagna.” He revs his engine.

  Shit. I’ve never had lasagna except for school lunch.

  I wish I had a higher price, but lasagna does it. It’s not like I have choices.

  I get on the back of his bike, put my feet on the pegs. He cackles with glee. “Dawn’s gonna shit when I pull up with you. I told her I was goin’ for a six-pack.”

  And then we’re off again, and in minutes we’re navigating a winding country road through fields and half-barren trees, houses further and further apart.

  A pit grows in my stomach.

  I’m on my own again. Anxiety surges through my body. I hadn’t noticed, but at some point, I’d let my guard down. Relaxed. And now, the fear and worry weigh down on me twice as hard. Like how you feel heavier when you get out of a pool.

  When I was in the shed, I kept tellin’ myself, over and over, it’s only a matter of time. They’re looking for me. They’re gonna find me. All I have to do is hold on. Any minute now, the door will open. Any minute.

  No one was coming.

  Wishin’ I were back at Dizzy’s, tucked under the covers by his side, listening to him laugh at that stupid British car show—the sooner I forget about that, the better.

  There is no safe.

  Wishin’ does not make it so.

  I can’t be stupid again. I’ve got to keep running ‘til I get so far, I’m not even a memory.

  Maybe I’ll be able to forget him then.

  Dawn is the bomb.

  I don’t know what I expected. Maybe a big-haired biker bitch. Or a nagging fishwife in curlers.
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br />   But Dawn is four and a half feet of pure fluff. Short, puffy gray-blonde hair. Apple shape, huge boobs, and a sweatshirt with a white kitten wearing a Pilgrim hat sitting next to a pumpkin,. And Brick is freakin’ terrified of her.

  We pull up, and she comes out to the porch, wiping her hands on a towel. Her hands go to her hips, and he scrambles off the bike so quick, he has to do a hop-step to get his balance.

  “This is, uh, Fay-Lee. Jed called while I was on my way to the liquor store, asked me to pick her up.”

  Dawn’s eyes narrow. “What does Jed want with a girl her age?”

  “Ain’t like that, Dawn. Jed’s tryin’ to be decent. She was in some trouble. He wanted to help her out.”

  Dawn eyes me from head to foot. “What kind of trouble?”

  Brick shrugs his shoulders, flustered. Eventually, he says, “Man trouble?”

  Dawn looks at me, raises an eyebrow. What do I say?

  “Yeah. Man trouble.” It’s not a lie.

  “And Jed’s helping?” She raises her eyebrows even higher.

  Brick shuffles his feet.

  She closes her eyes and shakes her head. After a moment, she seems to make peace with the obvious fact her husband is feeding her a line of bullshit.

  She brightens and clicks her tongue. “And where is her jacket?”

  I guess that means we’re good. I get off the bike as she huffs and puffs down the steps—she’s carrying a lot of extra weight, and her knees don’t seem too good.

  She grabs my hand and starts chatting a mile a minute. “And no helmet? I swear, that man. And not even a call to hold dinner. I’m not to blame if it’s dry. Do you like lasagna?”

  She hustles me up the stairs. Brick’s still sputtering, trying to spin something approximating a story, but she’s not paying him any attention. Me neither. Dawn is like a radio station. I’m tuned in, so I have no choice but to follow along.