Fearing The Biker

by Cassie Alexandra

  “Right,” I said, watching as he scrolled through his phone. I sighed. “You know, I really do need to pee. I’ll be right back.”

  “Don’t go too far,” said Raptor, not looking up from his phone. “There’s probably bears and wolves lurking somewhere in these woods.”

  “Great,” I mumbled, walking away. When I was far enough from their view, but still able to see Raptor and Tank’s phones lit up, I unzipped my jeans and squatted behind a tree. As I was finishing up, I heard something a few feet away, like a twig snapping. Alarmed, I pulled my jeans up and took out the buckle.

  Relax, I told myself, holding up the prong. It’s probably a squirrel or a deer. Don’t overreact.

  I quickly scanned the darkness around me, my heart pounding in my chest.

  “Jessica!” whispered Tank, loudly. “Where’d you go?”

  “She went to pee,” I heard Raptor answer.

  “I’m coming,” I called back, feeling myself relax. I turned and started walking back toward them when I felt a hand clamp over my mouth and someone grabbed me around the waist.

  “Going somewhere?” whispered Reaper in my ear as he held me against his chest.

  Terrified, I bit his hand as hard as I could.

  Gasping in pain, he let go of me.

  “Tank!” I screamed, lunging away from Reaper. Before I could take three steps, however, he had me again.

  “Let her go!” hollered Tank, approaching us with Raptor behind him. They both had their guns out and aimed at us.

  I heard the distinct click of a gun being cocked next to my temple. “Back away or I’ll kill the bitch,” he growled.

  “You’re making a mistake,” said Raptor, in a calm voice. “This girl has nothing to do with what’s happening between our clubs.”

  “She’s Slammer’s step-daughter. She’s involved, whether she likes it or not,” he replied sharply.

  “Please let me go,” I cried, tears spilling down my cheeks.

  Reaper ignored me. “Drop your weapons or I’ll shoot her and take at least one of you with me.”

  “What the fuck do you want?” asked Raptor, who also had his gun out. “Why are you doing this? Revenge?”

  “Who the fuck are you, anyway?” asked Reaper.

  “Raptor.”

  I could feel him stiffen up behind me. “It was your bitch that was responsible for Mud’s death.”

  “No, it wasn’t,” said Tank. “She didn’t kill anyone.”

  “You’re right. It was that asshole. The Judge,” he said with a sneer. “Coincidently, your half-brother.”

  “I don’t know where you heard that bullshit, but we’re not related,” said Raptor.

  “Nice try. I found out about it when I was in prison. Funny thing is, word spreads pretty quickly in there. Hell, I knew more about what was happening out here when I was on the inside. One thing I found out was that it all started with this bitch opening up her fucking mouth,” he said, squeezing me tighter.

  “Me?” I squeaked.

  “Yeah. That shit with Breaker. You squealed and everything went to hell.”

  I was suddenly so angry that I forgot about the gun pointed at me. I couldn’t believe he was making this my fault. “Oh, it’s my fault that I was raped, huh?” I said, gritting my teeth. “Beaten. Tormented. My fault?”

  “For all I know, you were asking for it. And… if you would have just kept your fucking mouth shut, Mud would still be alive.”

  “Oh my God,” I gasped. “Asking for it? Who asks to be raped?”

  “Don’t listen to him,” said Tank. “This dirt-bag was incarcerated for rape himself.”

  “Those were bogus charges,” argued Reaper. “I never raped anyone.”

  “This isn’t about you and don’t you dare blame her, you piece of shit,” snarled Raptor, glaring at him. “Besides her being raped, two other innocent women have died. That’s three victims and this all falls on your club.”

  I wasn’t paying attention to what Reaper was saying when he answered, because I was still fuming. Noticing that he’d eased his hold on me, I ducked away from the gun and then stuck him in the thigh as hard as I could with the prong.

  “Fuck!” hollered Reaper as I lurched away from him.

  “Get down!” yelled Raptor.

  I threw myself into some weeds, just as Reaper began firing. Tank and Raptor fired back, but he somehow managed to get away.

  “Come on. We’ve got to get out of here,” said Tank, helping me up. “Before he returns with his club.”

  Even now we could hear voices getting closer. “Where are we going?”

  “North,” said Raptor, looking down at his phone again. “If we follow this GPS, we’ll get to a freeway and a gas station. The road is less than two miles away.”

  “Good,” said Tank as we started running again. “Slammer and the others can meet us there.”

  Fortunately, even with Raptor hurt, we managed to lose Reaper and the Devil’s Rangers. Once we found the road, the gas station was only a half mile up. When we arrived, Tank called Slammer again, and explained what had happened.

  “Slammer is relieved that you’re okay. He should be here soon with the others,” said Tank, hanging up the phone.

  “What are they going to do when they arrive? Go and find the cabin?” I asked, exhausted. I wanted to go home and the thought of this night not being over was unnerving.

  “Not sure yet, but you’re going home,” said Tank. “They’ve got an SUV with them. We’ll make sure you get back to Jensen in one piece.”

  “Thank God,” I said, sighing in relief.

  Tank put a hand on my shoulder and stared at me, his eyes soft. “I have to ask this… did any of them… touch you inappropriately?”

  “No. They were going to, though. Thank God you came when you did,” I replied, smiling up at him with gratitude.

  “Those fuckers,” he said, gritting his teeth. “I’d have blown up the cabin with every one of those scumbags inside.”

  “I’m sure you would have,” I replied, flattered by his brotherly passion. I gave him a hug. “Thanks for getting me out. You too, Raptor.”

  “You’re welcome,” he replied.

  “By the way,” said Tank, when I stepped back. “Slammer received a phone call, a few minutes ago. From Reaper.”

  “What did he say?” I asked.

  “Apparently you got him pretty good with whatever you stabbed him with.”

  I grinned. “It was a belt buckle prong.”

  “You’re kidding?” said Tank.

  I explained how I’d spent over an hour biting it off of my belt in the van. “Needless to say, my teeth are kind of sore,” I said, touching my jaw.

  Tank rubbed his chin. “Really? That thing must have been pretty sharp.”

  “Not really, but it was long and I hit him with it as hard as I could.”

  “He sure squealed like a pig,” said Raptor, smirking. “I’m pretty impressed. Quick thinking under pressure.”

  “It was all I had and I wasn’t going to let anyone touch me again,” I said.

  “Evidently, Reaper is far from being impressed. In fact, he’s one pissed off mother fucker,” said Tank.

  “Poor baby,” I said, dryly.

  “He told Slammer that he’s coming after you.”

  “Because I stabbed him in the leg?” I asked.

  “You got away and hurt his ego,” said Raptor. “I’m sure that’s what’s pissing him off right now.”

  “Don’t worry. He won’t get you a second time,” said Tank. “You’ll have protection with you, twenty-four hours a day until this shit is over.”

  “Club protection?” I asked, not exactly thrilled.

  “No, actually, Slammer had another idea. Especially now that Reaper is so obsessed with killing you.”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked, feeling my stomach churn.

  “He’s hiring you a bodyguard,” said Tank.

  My eyes widened. “Seriously? A body
guard? Who?”

  “Yeah, who?” asked Raptor, who looked just as surprised.

  “He’s going to try and get your brother to do it,” he answered.

  “Raptor’s brother? I didn’t know that you had a brother,” I said and then the realization hit me of who he was talking about. “Uh, you don’t mean… The Judge?”

  Tank nodded.

  “Isn’t he an assassin?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” said Tank. “Basically.”

  “He seriously really kills for a living?” I asked. The thought of having a man shadowing me was bad enough. Having one that had taken lives on purpose, was bone-chilling.

  “Yes,” said Tank. “And he’ll kill Reaper if he tries to get to you.”

  I turned to Raptor. “You’ve met him, right?”

  “Briefly,” he answered.

  “What’s he like?” I asked.

  “He’s all about business. Not much of a talker,” said Raptor, smirking. “Hell, I don’t think he knows how to smile.”

  “Oh. Well, that makes me feel better,” I said, dryly.

  “There’s nothing to worry about,” said Raptor. “If he agrees to be your security, then your life is in very good hands.”

  I remembered Adriana telling me she’d heard that the Judge had scars on those hands. It made me wonder what kind of scars he also carried in his head. For someone to kill without qualms, they had to be pretty ugly.

  Chapter Twelve

  There were two texts I’d received from Slammer, after the plane landed on the tarmac at the small airport in Cedar Rapids. The first one was a little disconcerting.

  Possible threat at airport. Reaper knows where you’re landing. Not sure how. Be careful.

  I frowned.

  “What is it?” asked Barney, noticing my expression.

  “Nothing major,” I said, clipping the phone to my belt as he maneuvered the plane toward the terminal. “Just some information regarding the job I’ve been assigned to do.”

  “Hounding you already, huh? Guess that’s why they pay you the big bucks.”

  I smirked. “Guess so.”

  ***

  “Thanks again for the ride Barney,” I said, as we walked away from the plane, twenty-five minutes later. “You’re a life-saver.”

  “Glad I was available. You caught me at a good time.”

  “It was definitely good timing on both of our parts.”

  Yawning, he agreed.

  I kept my eyes open for anything out of the ordinary, my hand on the gun that I was under my leather jacket. It was early, Monday morning, just past three a.m., and quiet on the runway. Only one other small plane sat, ready for takeoff, and there weren’t many employees around, save for a couple that had directed us on the tarmac.

  “So, are you flying back, tonight?” I asked him.

  “No,” he replied. “I’m exhausted. I’m going to get a pizza and a room at one of the local motels. I’ll probably head back tomorrow, unless someone contracts me for another job. How long are you staying in Iowa?”

  “To be honest, I’m not sure,” I answered. The other text I’d received had confirmed that they’d found Jessica at the cabin. Reaper and his crew were still at large, however, and Slammer had something he wanted to discuss with me. In person.

  “You want to share a cab?” he asked.

  “No, that’s okay. I’m going to rent a vehicle and head out to Jensen.”

  “I thought they needed you in Cedar Rapids, now?” he asked, shocked.

  “Another change of plans,” I replied.

  “You have the patience of a saint. Well, at least it isn’t too far of a drive for you.”

  “It’s only a couple of hours.”

  “I really hope they’re paying you well. You deserve it.”

  “Thanks.”

  He held out his hand I shook it. “Well, have a good night and give me a call if you need anything. I’ll probably be heading back to Anchorage around six p.m. tonight.”

  “Good to know. Oh, I almost forgot.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out the envelope of bills. There was his usual fee, of twelve hundred dollars, plus a hefty tip. He deserved it. “Here’s your money.”

  He shoved it into his jacket, without looking inside. “Thanks for paying in cash, again. I appreciate it.”

  “No problem. Get some sleep.”

  “Thanks. Drive safely.”

  “I will.”

  We parted inside of the terminal and I walked over to the car rental kiosk. As the attendant was searching for a Harley that I could rent, I noticed a man watching me. He was standing in one of the small stores, paging through a magazine, with one eye on me.

  “Are you sure you want to rent a motorcycle?” asked the attendant. “We’ve got plenty of nice cars or SUVs. I’ve even got a fully loaded GMC Sierra truck, if you want to go that route?”

  “Truck, huh?”

  “Yeah. You look like a truck kind of guy,” he said, smiling.

  “I prefer a bike.”

  “Okay. You’ve been riding long?”

  “Long enough,” I said, not interested in conversation. I was tired and still had a couple of hours ahead of me. “See anything available?”

  The man looked up from the screen. “Actually, you lucked out. I have one Harley available. It’s two hundred and fifty dollars a day.”

  “That’s a little high, isn’t it?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. To be perfectly honest, I don’t rent many of them out.”

  I sighed. “What model?”

  He typed a few more keys as he stared intently at the monitor. “It’s a Road King. Last year’s model. Great touring bike.”

  “Two-fifty, huh?”

  “Yeah. Plus applicable taxes and insurance, if you want it.”

  “Does it have saddle bags?”

  “Not sure. I think so.”

  I sighed. “I’ll take it.”

  I had no other choice. I desired a bike and it would get me to Jensen quickly. Plus, I loved driving at night, with the wind against my face. Not only was it a great experience, but it kept me alert.

  “You need a helmet?” he asked.

  “Got my own brain bucket,” I replied, holding up my helmet bag.

  “Smart.”

  “Yep. Like to keep it that way.”

  He chuckled.

  Never got on a bike without one and never used anyone else’s. Same with sheets and pillowcases. I could handle ants, spiders, scorpions, and centipedes, but the thought of getting bed bugs or lice freaked the fuck out of me. It was one reason I always requested a fresh set of sheets when I checked into a hotel or motel. Yeah, they were already supposed to be fresh ones, but I always demanded another set the moment I arrived. I’d toss the old ones away and make the bed myself, usually not sleeping with the top covers or a bedspread. It was the only way I could fall asleep when traveling.

  After filling out the paperwork and giving him a credit card, he handed me the keys to the bike and told me where to go. As I turned to leave, I noticed the stranger again. Our eyes met and it took him a few seconds to look away. Although he was wearing a suit and looked like some type of corporate executive, I spotted a bulge near his ankle and had to assume that he was armed.

  Shoving the keys into my pocket, I headed toward the restroom, to wait for my stalker. After ten minutes, he entered the bathroom.

  Our eyes met in the mirror as I combed my hair.

  “Morning,” he said, nodding.

  “Morning.”

  He approached the sink and turned it on.

  “Where are you headed?” he asked, washing his hands.

  My eyes bore into his. “Why you asking?”

  “Just making conversation,” he replied.

  I turned and faced him. “So now that you have me, what’s the plan?”

  He gave me a blank stare. “Excuse me?”

  “Come on,” I said, taking a step back. “Let’s see what you got.”

  The stran
ger gave me a funny stare. “Are you… is this a… come-on?”

  The air in the room suddenly felt stifling and for the first time ever, I wanted to put my foot into my mouth. If he was trying to kill me, we wouldn’t still be having this conversation. Sighing, I rubbed my face. “Sorry, man. I’m bushed and obviously, made a mistake.”

  “No. Wait…” he said, smiling as I prepared to leave. “It’s okay. I’m gay, too. My name is Todd.”

  My eye twitched. “I’m not gay, Todd.”

  He turned off the water and grabbed a paper-towel from the dispenser. “Are you sure? Because I thought we had some kind of connection going when our eyes met in the lobby. That’s why I walked in here. To see if you wanted to have a drink with me.”

  “Sorry, pal. I wasn’t sending you any signals,” I said, feeling my forehead bead up with sweat.

  “You okay? You’re looking a little pale.”

  This wasn’t anything I’d ever prepared for; I was usually on my game in every situation. Getting hit on by another man was throwing me for a loop. “I’m fine. I’m just… not gay.”

  He sighed. “Yeah, I get that now. I have to say I’m a little disappointed, though. You’re very attractive.”

  I could feel my cheeks turn crimson. Embarrassed, I grabbed my travel bag and headed toward the doorway. “Thanks. Have a good night.”

  “Wait,” he said, as I was about to exit.

  I turned around and clenched my jaw.

  “Gotcha,” said Todd, holding a gun with a silencer toward my chest. He laughed. “You should have seen your face. It was priceless, man. I can’t wait to tell Reaper that I made the famous ‘Judge’ lose his cool. Wish I’d video-taped it.”

  Before I could tell him where to go, someone tried entering the bathroom, stealing Todd’s attention. I quickly did a round-house kick, hitting him in the hand with my boot. The gun went flying and before he could recover, I had him in a head-lock, down on the linoleum floor.

  “Jesus. What’s going on?” asked an old man with a cleaning cart.

  “As you can see, we’re a little busy,” I told the janitor, who looked shocked. I smiled. “Lover’s quarrel.”