Danger Zone: Tales of Military Passion

by Marie Harte

  “Yo, Houston.”

  Houston froze, every muscle going on high alert. Ten years or not, he recognized the voice like it was yesterday. Slowly he turned, coming face to face with Alexander “Axel” Carver, his best friend since childhood and current member of Sultan’s Wrath as evidenced by the black leather cut on his back. Despite the changes over the years, particularly the fact Axel had filled out and gained more than his fair share of muscle since he’d seen him last, time fell away and Houston grinned at his friend.

  “Hey,” he returned, closing the space between them to wrap Axel in a quick hug.

  “The prodigal fuck up returns. Damn, it’s good to see you,” Axel said.

  “How the hell did you know I was here? I thought I was coming in under the radar.”

  “You really think anything important happens around here Wrath don’t know about?”

  Houston rolled his eyes. “I hardly think my arrival ranks on the important scale. I’m not part of the club.”

  “Uh huh. You think the favored son is going to roll back into town and no one’s going to sit up and take notice? Fuck that. You’re lucky all the guys aren’t here to greet you.”

  The idea made him shudder. He had to face an empty house full of memories he didn’t want to touch first before he wanted to break the news to the club he had no interest in returning.

  “Yeah, not ready for that. Thought I’d head out to Pop’s place and get things settled first.”

  “Perfect. I’ll give you a ride.”

  Houston hefted his bag across his shoulder. “Appreciate it. Figured on taking a cab. Didn’t expect a welcoming committee.”

  Axel shrugged before turning toward the parking lot. “Don’t get too comfortable. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

  Oh joy. Not even back five minutes and Houston had a sinking feeling he was going to have to deal with the club sooner rather than later. His friend led him to the parking lot and an expensive dark blue four-door pickup truck. “Nice ride.”

  “Not my preference, but it’ll do.”

  Houston understood. He might not be part of the club, but his love for a rumbling bike underneath him had been ingrained long before he was legal to drive. He tossed his bag into the backseat and slid into the passenger side of Axel’s truck. “Been a while since I’ve been able to ride.”

  “How bad is it?”

  His friend didn’t need to clarify his question. If they knew he was here then they’d know why. And his injury would be the elephant in the room until he set them straight. Fortunately, in this case his doctor had cleared him for everything but active duty. So whatever Axel was thinking didn’t matter, Houston was more than capable of taking care of himself.

  “I recovered. Got some nice scars and I get a little stiff if I sit too long. Other than that, I’m good to go.”

  Axel shoved his gear into reverse. “Glad to hear it.”

  They rode in silence for several miles while they both took in their surroundings. Axel was probably keeping an eye out for anything needing taken care of and Houston simply wanted to reacquaint himself with the town. Other than a few restaurants and shops that were new, everything else looked pretty much the same.

  “Good to see the Tan hasn’t been overdeveloped.” The city was technically named after the Sultan River, but locals tended to simply call it the Tan. “Always loved the fact it held onto roots with a death grip.” Not all roots were bad. And if you were smart, you learned how to cut out the bad ones early on.

  “It hasn’t been easy. Developers and businesses are always trying to move in. Fortunately, we’ve got a city council with their dicks on straight who know what’s right for their town.”

  Houston nodded. They turned off Main Street and drove past the fire department and surrounding residential streets. As they got closer to the old homestead the pressure in Houston’s chest multiplied. Ten goddamned years he’d avoided this. What had he been thinking? He should not have come back.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” he said, wishing he’d bit back the bitterness before he answered.

  “You don’t have to stay there. We’ve got more than enough room at the compound. The boys are looking forward to seeing you again.”

  Houston shook his head. “I’m good.” He wasn’t about to get into the details of the shit churning in his stomach with anyone, let alone Axel. Any weakness and they’d find a way to manipulate him right where they wanted him.

  Axel turned the truck into the driveway and Houston faced forward to take in his childhood home. Same blue shutters, same white siding and same black door. Surprisingly it looked well cared for, especially for an empty house.

  “Clubs been keeping it up. I send a prospect over here once a week. Gives them extra shit to do and it keeps the neighbors happy.”

  Houston turned and lifted his left brow. “The neighbors?”

  Alex laughed. “Yeah. About six months after Pops left, the club got a visit from old Mrs. Mallory. She just drove in and marched into the mill on her brown old lady loafers, clutching her purse and her pearls and demanded we do something about the mess.”

  “Oh boy.” Houston could easily imagine the scene. His former neighbor had a way of sticking her nose in everyone’s business whether she had a right to or not.

  “Oh yeah. JD about lost his shit so we hustled her out of there before he could explode. Been handling the situation ever since. Whatever it takes to keep that crazy woman off club property.”

  The laughter Houston had been trying to hold in died instantly at the sound of the current club president’s name. JD Monroe had been his father’s best friend up until the day Houston’s mother died. The memories he kept locked down tight broke free, washing over him and tearing through his flesh and blood like claws of a big cat taking down a deer.

  Fuck.

  He’d come home late to screams and shouting so loud he heard them halfway down the block. He rushed into the house and skidded to a halt at the horrifying scene before his eyes. JD was on the ground with his father straddling over him and his pistol pressed to his head right between his eyes. Even more terrifying was his mother standing across the room from them with another gun held to her own head, her finger on the trigger. Tears streamed down her face as she screamed at his father, begging him to let JD go or she’d blow her own head off.

  He tried yelling at them to get his attention but no one noticed him. Their own shouts and accusations took up all the space. He didn’t know what to do. For whatever reason two people were about to die and he had to do something to stop them.

  He ran back outside and around the front to his bedroom window. His plan was to get into the house behind his mother and disarm her before she ever saw him.

  He didn’t even make it halfway through his room before a gunshot shattered the fight. Houston tore through the house and down the hall, bursting into the living room. His mother was on the floor not moving. Her eyes open and a bullet hole between them.

  “So what do you think?”

  Axel’s question broke Houston free from the memories pulling him under, allowing him to refocus on the present instead of the past.

  “Huh?” He’d obviously missed some of what his friend said.

  “Didn’t hear a word I said, did you? You were thinking about that night.”

  It wasn’t really a question so Houston didn’t bother to answer. None of their lives had been the same after that night. Especially his.

  “I think about it a lot too.”

  Both of them sat in silence for a few minutes staring at the house. Probably both trying to lock that shit away again.

  “Why don’t you come stay at my place? I don’t use it much anymore.”

  Houston shook his head. “It’s time to deal with this.” He opened the truck door and climbed out. “I appreciate the ride.”

  “How bout we meet at Bubba’s later? I can buy you a beer or three. Talk some business.”

  “I didn’t want to get into
this yet, but you gotta know I ain’t interested in becoming Wrath. That’s my past and I need to keep moving forward.”

  “Club’s not like it used to be. You should hear me out.”

  “I don’t see changing my mind.”

  Axel nodded, but Houston knew the expectations were far from over. “I can still buy you that beer.”

  “Sure. Sounds like a plan.” After he faced a few ghosts he had a feeling he’d need something to get straight again. Nothing like a good buzz and some nice pussy to put things back into perspective.

  “Here. You’re gonna need these.” Axel tossed a set of keys he caught with one hand. “Check the garage.”

  Houston looked at the keys and his friend with questions burning his tongue, but ultimately decided what the fuck, whatever it was he didn’t want to get into it now. He grabbed his bag and turned to the house. Time to man the fuck up and get this shit over with.

  Houston entered the house as uneventfully as he left it. It was exactly as he remembered. Except instead of the stale, dust covered time capsule he expected, the house was clean with a lemony fresh scent, obviously prepared for his arrival. He shook his head. Another club thing. Probably one of the old lady’s idea. He’d bet if he went in the kitchen and opened the fridge there’d be cold beer and sandwich fixings too.

  The club took care of their own and that he’d never worn a Wrath cut a day in his life, didn’t matter. He was family. No, as his dad liked to remind him growing up, he was the Wrath prince.

  Houston rubbed his sore leg as he walked toward the bedrooms. There wasn’t shit about him that was princely. He’d opted to leave all of this behind and never look back. He had a wild notion that he wasn’t anything like his father and the best thing he could do for his life was leave and never return. That worked for a cool decade. A decade in which he’d gone from smart mouthed teenager looking to prove a point to stone cold killer who liked to spend most of his time alone on the side of a mountain somewhere, or in a jungle hole with a view, or anywhere he had a rifle in his hands and a job to do.

  He pushed into his bedroom and looked around. Hard to believe this tiny ten by eleven room held so many memories. He dropped his bag on the bed and followed it down. Surprisingly, the little house didn’t make him nearly as sad as he expected. His mother’s violent death marred some of the memories, but there was a lot more good to remember than bad. He and his brother spent a lot of years trailing their father to the clubhouse and back again.

  They all worked on motorcycles together many weekends and there were a shit load of parties hosted either in their backyard here or at the mill. Houston looked down at the keys still clutched in his hand and remembered Axel’s instructions to check the garage.

  Might as well…

  He passed through the house again, quickening his pace a fraction as he passed the living room. Maybe that one spot still freaked him out a little. Resigned to take whatever came next with a grain of salt, he opened the garage door and flipped on the light.

  Holy Shit.

  His baby.

  His bike.

  He knew she’d be here waiting for him, but he wasn’t expecting her to be gleaming and ready the moment he arrived. He stepped forward and ran his hand across the chrome handlebars. Truth be told, she was the real reason he came back. The nineteen eighty six Harley Sportster his father bought him on the day he was born had become a piece of him over the years.

  They’d spent hours and hours in this garage customizing her until she held little resemblance to the machine from the showroom floor. It was this bike that taught him everything he needed to know about motorcycles and it was on this bike he’d learned to ride.

  “Son, you need to remember this if nothing else.” His father pressed his hand down on his shoulder. “It’s not the bike that makes the man. It’s the man who makes the bike. It doesn’t fucking matter if your bike is worth twenty large or a lousy hundred bucks. You make the bike yours and she’ll be there for you as long as you take care of her. Even bitches can come and go but you and the bike, you go on.”

  Houston straightened, familiar bitterness rising inside him. That might be the only piece of wisdom he’d ever keep from his old man. When his father had been arrested for accidentally shooting his wife during the fight with JD, Houston stopped talking to him.

  As for his bike, he looked at her now as the life preserver he’d been looking for. Or maybe the anchor that would help life make sense to him again. Either way, he planned to figure out the right answers on the open road. He quickly strode back into the house, dug his leather jacket out of his bag. He grabbed a smaller backpack and shoved a few necessities inside before returning to the garage.

  From the moment he saw the bike he knew what he was going to do. There was still one place where the world didn’t matter and he was free. On the highway with the wind at his back.

  Houston swung into the saddle of the bike, flipped the switch to start the engine and reveled in the rumbling steel underneath him. Oh yeah.

  With only a vague destination in mind, he pointed the bike west and returned the way he arrived. He decided the obscurity of the big city and in particular the waterfront was exactly what he needed.

  He wouldn’t be meeting Axel for that beer after all. Sultan didn’t need him tonight and they’d all still be here when he returned.

  Chapter Two

  Isabella

  ‡

  WITH THE BLOOD rushing in my ears, I grabbed onto the door handle and fought not to open the cab door and fling myself out of it. My heart raced and my chest ached as panic rushed through me. I’d run the minute I got the chance, but I couldn’t escape the feeling I would be caught any minute.

  A quick look outside the car window and I had to be free of this small space right now. “Stop the car.”

  The cab driver looked at me in the rear view window for a few quick seconds before swerving to the side of the road. “We’re still a couple of blocks away from the Edgewater Hotel, ma’am.”

  “I don’t care. This is good.” The meter read sixty-five dollars and some change. I definitely wasn’t far enough away. But I needed to get the hell off the streets and out of sight before someone caught up with me. I dug through my purse and pulled off several large bills from the roll of cash stuffed inside. “I’ll give you an extra hundred dollars if you swear you’ll admit to no one you saw me tonight.

  “Lady, I don’t even know who you are.”

  I raised my brows and smirked at him. “Trust me. Someone is going to ask.”

  “Are you in some kind of trouble?”

  When she didn’t respond to his question he continued. “Fine. I never saw you. Happy?”

  I met his gaze in the rear view mirror. “There’s no such thing as happy. Only pain and utter disappointment.” I pressed the bills into his palm and hurried from the cab before he questioned me further. I’d already said too much and every second I wasted on a stranger meant a better than average chance of being caught.

  A few more minutes in the cab to the hotel would have been the smart move, but with a panic attack threatening, I had to get out now. I crossed the street to the waterfront and race walked down the semi-deserted pier. The few stragglers still hanging out in the infamous Seattle mist watched me from the corners of their eyes. Maybe seeing a woman walk down a pier alone in the poofiest princess wedding gown money could buy wasn’t a normal occurrence. I didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was getting some fresh air and slowing down the speed of my racing heart.

  I was free. For the first time in recent memory I didn’t have an escort or some asshole watching my every move. And yet, fear still gripped my insides.

  I reached the end of the pier and grabbed the railing, stuck my head over the side and took deep breaths while staring down at the water. How long had it been since I was allowed to do something as simple as breathe without worrying about what someone thought or what someone wanted? As my heartbeat returned to a slightly more normal pace, I li
fted my head and stared out at the horizon. A ferry was approaching from one of the many islands that dotted the Puget Sound. I’d practically grown up in and around Seattle and not once had I visited any of those islands. My family consisted of roughneck businessmen who cared about little else than power and money, and jaded women who did nothing more than bitch about whores and shop. God how they loved to spend money.

  They weren’t the kind of people who did normal things like go on vacations to pretty places. I almost laughed out loud at the mental picture of my family on a beach. Except laughing implied happiness and there was nothing but emptiness inside me now. My whole life all I had was my strange, albeit dysfunctional, family to hold onto.

  Then it was gone and I was being passed off to a man with a scary reputation and an even worse disposition.

  Which reminded me that I needed to get out of sight. And if I truly wanted to disappear, maybe a tropical island was exactly where I needed to go. A place where no one knew the family name. How I’d get there I had no idea. The money stuffed into my purse wasn’t chump change but it wouldn’t last long. I needed everything. I looked down at the lace and tulle gripped in my hand. Especially clothes. And the sooner the better. I stuck out like a sore thumb dressed like this.

  Hard to believe this is what my life had been reduced to. From princess to runaway in the blink of an eye. I’d had the foresight to grab my secret savings, but everything else had been left behind. No cell phone, no passport, no fancy luggage stuffed with the honeymoon clothes I was supposed to wear when my new husband took possession of me. Nothing.

  I had the fake ID I’d been using since I was sixteen to sneak into clubs on the rare occasion I got out, but even that was precarious. When my father began to question my friends, that information would get shared. No one held out against Frank Mazzeo when he was on the hunt. Not if they wanted to stay healthy.

  In fact now that I thought of it, using that ID to get a room at the Edgewater hotel or any hotel was a very bad idea. I needed a different plan and I needed it now. If I was going to last more than a day or two on my own I needed to be a hell of a lot smarter.