by Stacia Leigh
Mom? I dug you back out. I’m the one who hid you in the back of the freezer. I saved you. I saved the pie…
Saved…for all the good it did him. His head felt heavy, so he dropped it onto his hard cast again. No pie, no ashes, no Mom. Dad and Liam—even Miki—may or may not be alive. No Helmet. He hadn’t heard his mom’s voice in his head for what seemed like days, and he never thought he’d live to say he missed it. It’s the reason why he drank. To get Mom off his mind, literally. Now, he missed her more than ever.
Mom?
See? Nothing. It was like he was losing her all over again. Was she tied to the pie? The ashes? Was he going crazy? Maybe she knew he was going to be dead soon, so she figured, why bother? She’d see him soon enough.
He couldn’t shake the why of it. Why did the kid, Smiley, steal his mom’s ashes? What was the point? To torment him as part of the P-Skull torture technique? The very least the punk could have done was to toss Will’s pain meds within reach. His arm was killing him, and his mid-section felt like jelly, like he’d cranked out two-hundred sit ups on the hard gym floor. Actually, it felt worse. It was more like he’d been run over by a nine-hundred-pound Harley Road King. Fully loaded, of course.
Will would’ve popped three pain pills with no hesitation. Maybe even four for the pain in his guts, for the throb in his arm, for the misery, for the silence.
He closed his eyes and pictured Miki with strands of cropped blue hair tucked behind her ears. She still wore those delicate pearls, and he wished he could touch one. Touch her. Trace the shell of her ear. Man, she was beautiful.
Last year, he’d been pissed at her for implying he’d dropped an air biscuit in the closet, especially since he’d been seconds away from throwing his heart at her feet, something he’d never done before. At least he’d been spared that gory mess.
He’d given her a dose of the Chill Will and tried to stay strong through her tears and profuse apologies. A couple days later at the lake, he’d already thawed and was on the verge of forgiveness when she’d flung her swimsuit in his face. She was mischievous and the laugh she’d laid on him…oh, yeah. He’d wanted to work things out.
But how could he when Owen showed up? Aggressive as usual, putting a stop to the fun and games.
Then, his mom died, and there was no forgiving anyone. Not Miki. Not Leo and the Hides of Hell bikers. Not Dad or Liam and certainly not Mom.
Mom? I’d forgive you now if you’d only talk to me.
Nothing.
No Mom…no Miki.
She was lucky to be free of him—a beauty with blue hair and brown eyes. He was much too pitiful to keep a girl like her happy.
Will, this is your mother speaking. Go find—
“Hey, jerkoff! Your white knight is here to save your ass. Wake up!”
Wait! Go find what, Mom? Mom! Please come back. I’ve missed you so much. I can’t even begin to tell you how glad I am to hear your voice again. I’m listening. Tell me something…anything. Ground me. Yell at me. Just don’t go.
Mom?
“Hey! You ignoring me down there? I mean that’s some nerve, right? You think we’ve got all day?”
“Shut up!” Will squeezed his eyes shut so tightly he saw pressure spots dancing behind his eyelids. Owen was the ultimate nightmare. There was absolutely no peace with the guy around.
“Hallelujah,” Flossy hollered. “Good, we’ve got a live one.”
“Watch it, Little Willy. I have no problem leaving you to rot with the vermin. Doesn’t matter to me because I was going to beat the tar out of you anyway. You’re a worthless skin bag…”
Whatever. Getting saved by Owen was akin to getting his teeth kicked in. As far as he could tell, the animosity had started when he’d refused Owen’s call to play flag football. It was as simple as leaving Owen’s team short a member, and they’d lost. Naturally, Will was to blame. Not to mention he’d been caught playing video games with Miki in the clubhouse…alone. Owen’s head had nearly exploded.
“…you listening to me, Gadget Freak? Get used to your new nickname. I can’t wait for you to turn prospect. I will personally see to it…”
Will had been thirteen, and Miki a few months younger. Her hair had hung to her waist in a long, thick braid. It was shiny and black, and he’d taken a hold of it, tugging her toward him in a daring move. It was so she’d run her race car into the wall. How else could he win? When she returned the favor, her hand wrapped up in his hair, he’d been electrified. A tingling bolt had ripped through his body. It was horrible. It was exciting. It earned him his first bloody nose, thanks to Owen, who showed up like the hot-headed loser he was.
And…thanks again, Owen, for chasing off Mom right when she was about to dispense with some sage advice. Now, there was nothing but crickets and Owen’s grating voice.
“…and I was just messing with you, man. I won’t shove my dirty fist down your throat or ram your head through the beer fridge, okay? I like you well enough, and it’s why I’m here…to help you. Will? Come on, throw me a bone. I’m really trying here, but we’re running out of time. What’s Bill going to say when we return without your hide? You’re disappointing everyone…again.”
“Oh, my God.” Will jerked his head up and blinked. The sun beamed into his peripheral from the broken window. If Dad and Liam were alive, they’d be the ones standing out there. “They’re dead…aren’t they?” He stared at the wall’s now familiar crack, the one he’d been assessing for the past two or three hours, and his heart splintered into jagged pieces. It scraped its way down to the pit of his belly, leaving him raw. “My entire family…gone. I’m all alone.” He rubbed his fingertips over the arm of his sweatshirt and couldn’t feel a thing. He was fading out, becoming—“I’m nothing.”
“Are you done unraveling it yet?” Owen muttered to someone off to the side. “He’s losing his mind, and I don’t know how to deal with crazy.”
“Hang in there, Gadget,” Flossy said, his voice sounding distant. A shadow of movement flickered above.
“Why don’t you get your dick out of your ear,” Owen yelled into the basement. “I already said Bill and Liam are alive—”
“If they were alive, they’d be here…instead of you!” Will panted, trying not to cry. God, not in front of Owen. His diaphragm froze, and he couldn’t pull in a full breath. “Shit. Leave me…the hell…alone. Let me…just…let me be.”
“What a drama queen,” Owen said off to the side.
“Way to talk him off a ledge. You ever get the feeling like you’re not helping?” a feminine voice demanded. “Will! Here, grab on!”
“Miki?” A movement caught his attention. It was a kinked length of black paracord with a large loop tied on the end, and it swayed against the wall. He followed the line up to the window, but he couldn’t make out her face. Everyone up there was back-lit, mere silhouettes.
“Will! Your dad and your brother are on their way here, so get off your Ghetto Gramps, already.”
Her warm voice crashed over him like ice-water—They’re alive!—and he jerked up to standing. His brain spun, so he leaned a shoulder against the wall to sort out his equilibrium. “My mom’s ashes…they’re gone.”
“Hear that? We’ve got incoming,” Flossy muttered tersely. “Step on it, Will.”
“I told you I’d be here for you, and I am, and I forgive you. Now, please-please-please hurry!”
“Forgive me? For what?” His backside was stiff as he limped to the thin cord. He gave it a quick tug.
“For being the world’s biggest idiot, but we can talk about it later.” She slid her leather coat under the cord and over the sharp points of glass still stuck in the bottom of the window frame.
The black sleeve slapped the cement in front of his face, and the scent of leather and Miki’s soap wafted up his nose. His chest nearly exploded with a tidal wave of emotion. She was close, safe. He was being freed from his hell hole by the Big Bad Biker Bunch, and Dad and Liam were speeding down the freeway, toward him.
It was like this kidnapping had pushed him through some kind of time warp, and he hadn’t seen anyone for years.
Whatever was out there, he was ready to face it, head on. He put his foot in the loop and gave it all his weight, half expecting it to slip free from its tether above. But it held and cinched tightly around his boot.
“I’m ready. Pull me out,” Will said.
The line stretched tautly—tzzz-tzzz-tzzz—and Will zipped upward in three quick tugs. The cord friction-burned a hole in the back of Miki’s jacket, leaving a pungent smelling cloud, the last barrier to the outside world. Both his biceps were gripped by strong hands, and he was pulled out of the dark basement and into the light.
CHAPTER 19: Guess Who
Will closed his eyes and faced the sun. The air was sweet with cottonwood pollen and warm sap. Owen and Flossy hauled him through the window frame and dropped him on his knees in the grass. They let his arms go, and his cast clunked against the earth. He was free.
“Long time, no see,” he told Miki, pushing awkwardly off the ground to stand, but before he could bask in the glory of his surroundings, he was man-handled across the lawn to hide in the shadows of the tree line.
Growling engines echoed through the forest as bikes rolled two-by-two up the cabin’s long driveway. Dread crawled along Will’s spine. Black tires. Chrome pipes. Black and silver beards. There were a lot of Pulver Skulls pulling up.
“Where’re the guys?” Will tore his eyes off the metal beast forming some distance away to scan the trees. Where was Dad? Liam? Where were Leo, Trip, Mook, even Caboose? Where was anyone? Jesus! “Things are looking serious over there. What’s the plan? Hoofing it down the mountain? Because I think we’d better blow…as in five minutes ago.”
Flossy nodded while he thoughtfully stroked his wiry beard like he was soothing a pet cat, but his eyes were dark and vigilant. The thick silver jewelry and his extra-white t-shirt snug across his torso were in direct contrast to his gnarly tatts, dirty fingernails, and torn jeans. The dude was unpredictable and scary as hell, which was why the three of them were looking at his red, hairy chops right now. He was the silent boss.
Flossy flicked his thumb over his shoulder, indicating they should move out in the opposite direction of their gathering “friends.” He crouched, hot-footing it to a nestle of shrubs. Denim swished. Pinecones crunched. They stopped. Listened. The bikes rumbled about a quarter mile away. After a beat, Flossy pointed out his intent, then shuffled farther into the trees until they were on the backside of a downward slope. Will could no longer make out the shop, which also meant the Pulver Skulls couldn’t put the make on them, either. Right?
Flossy waved them into a huddle.
“What’s the word from Trip?” he muttered to Owen, who already had his phone out.
“The Hides passed him two minutes ago, so our guys are close. He’s going to join them on Miki’s ride, and that’ll be the last we hear until show time,” Owen said in a low voice. He knelt forward and shoved his phone into his back pocket.
“Make sure you got it on vibrate.”
Owen’s eye twitched at the directive, but he jerked his chin in answer. “These two need to vacate. Once the pyrotechnics show up, they’ll be a distraction—”
“Dude,” Will said. “Just say the word.” Finally, Owen was saying something Will could get behind. He could practically see his mom throwing her hands up and praising God…It’s about time! He nudged Miki with his shoulder. Smudges of dirt marred her cheeks, and short pine needles stuck out of her hair like pins in a pincushion. A new-age beauty queen. All she needed was a camo bikini. “You ready?” he asked.
“Pyrotechnics?” Miki frowned at Owen. “You guys are going to burn another P-Skull building down?”
“Another?” Will raised his brows and looked at the other brown eyes in the bunch. Was setting fire to real estate turning into some kind of Hides of Hell specialty? This was the first he’d heard of it. Wasn’t arson a class-A felony? Prison…anyone hear of it?
Flossy put a chokehold on his beard and narrowed his eyes. “Tooth for a tooth, eye for an eye. You think we’re gonna let them get away with kidnapping our kids? Our families? It keeps going, Miki. The earth keeps turning, and the P-Scums keep burning. Everyday the Hides get stronger, those bastards get weaker. One day, they’ll have to stop because there’ll be nothing left. They’ll be broken.”
Jesus! Will widened his eyes and stepped back. What happened to a good ol’ fashioned bonfire with friends? Someone might die here tonight, and he just…he didn’t want any part of it.
“They’re here.” Owen’s eyes lit up, and he cupped his ear as a sign to listen. Loud pipes growled in the distance, and everyone visibly tensed. Owen leaned forward to pull out his phone and with a shaky hand pecked out a fast message. “God, every time something like this goes down I feel sick to my stomach.” His breath blew out in a tense laugh. “In a good way.”
“Calm down,” Flossy murmured, stretching his neck to get a good look through the trees.
Will nudged Miki again and whispered next to her ear, “He said ‘calm down.’” Okay, so this probably wasn’t the time for jokes. Then again, what if he were the one to die here tonight? Wasn’t it better to laugh now while it can do some good? It seemed better than dying with a joke on his tongue. “Remember, oh, about a hundred years ago, when I said you were nothing but trouble? So is this what it’s like to be on a date with you?” Ha, ha. Right?
“Why?” She scrutinized him from under her fringe of lashes. “Are you asking?”
He furrowed his brow. Was she joking or being serious? It felt like a trick question, one he couldn’t really handle right now in the middle of their escape attempt. Besides, she always tried to move things along too fast. What was wrong with his pace? You know, a little dance first. He wanted to lead, yet she was always stepping on his toes.
“Figures,” Miki said and turned away. “Same old story.”
“Hey, now—”
A twig snapped behind him and the hair on the back of his neck flared. Two thick arms banded around his chest and squeezed. He was pulled back roughly against solid muscle. Fortunately, he’d had nothing to drink all day, or he probably would have sprung a leak, and pissing himself in front of everyone was not an option.
“Guess who?” said a gravelly voice in his ear and suddenly Will fell limp with relief. Okay, he wasn’t captured—he was being man-hugged. But why play the stupid “guess who” game at a kidnapping rescue?
“Dad?” Will choked out. Then, he was spun in a circle and engulfed by leather and whiskers. Will held on like a baby possum; he was never going to let the old man go, even though his dad’s shirt was damp with sweat, and he was pitting out like a steamy vat of onion soup. Will inhaled, relishing his dad’s stink. It was proof-positive the man was alive.
Dad locked onto Will’s shoulders and shoved him away while still holding on at arm’s length. His dad rocked him to and fro with a stretched on grin and glittering eyes.
“You are a sight for sore eyes, son. You look like your mom. When I thought you’d been—” He shook his head and glanced at the ground cover before lifting his eyes again. “I’m happy to see you, Willy Boy.” More rocking to and fro. Will swallowed hard against the mounting bubble of emotion pushing up his throat. His old man’s beard hung down his front, banded together in a twenty-inch rope. Before Will could think twice about it, he yanked it like a pull cord, something he used to do when he was a kid and wasn’t pissed off. It had been a long time.
Dad’s grin got wider and his grip stronger and more firm. When he released one of Will’s shoulders, it seemed to float there. Dad jerked Will into a circle with the guys, and whether on instinct or years of experience, they leaned in like a team ready to hear the play. Bill stepped into the coach role and all eyes were drawn to him.
“You owe me a beer for saving Baby Boy’s butt,” Flossy said and smirked.
His dad laughed and clapped Will on the back a little too hard�
��Will winced. What the hell was this “Baby Boy” crap about? Will’s brows lowered into a straight line. Was it the name the guys called him behind his back? He wasn’t even the youngest kid at the club house. He wasn’t the shortest either, not by a long shot.
“Barely,” Dad said. “I could’ve found you guys a hair earlier if Owen was smarter than his smart phone.”
“Shee-it,” Owen drawled. “Face it. You’re slow, old man. You missed the whole thing…”
More jabs quickly went around, a little something for everyone, including Trip, who wasn’t even here to defend himself. Will instantly felt the void growing between him and the brotherhood. He was nothing more than a package, the goal; he wasn’t a part of them. Will pulled his shoulders back and his head left the huddle. He looked up, expecting to see Miki.
She wasn’t there.
“…has got the Molotov cocktails and is going to…”
Will’s pulse accelerated as he searched the trees, left, right—
“Guys, where’s Miki?” He blinked frantically, trying to make out a form in the lacy shadows. They grunted and shifted their boot heels in the dirt to have a look around.
“I’m right here, jackass,” Miki said, standing farther behind him. She was by herself. Alone. Her arms were crossed under her chest, and her denim hip was cocked to the side. “But I’m about to leave. I’m done here.”
“Me, too,” Will said, elbow-jabbing his dad and easing away from the pack to get closer to Miki. He crunched through the twigs toward her, then stood looking down and waiting…for something? A hint? A connection? Like we’re in this together, right? He pulled a crunchy leaf out of her hair and showed it to her, but all she did was look him in the eye with an annoyed expression and said nothing. He dropped it and traced a strand behind her ear like he’d thought about doing in his cell. Had it been twenty minutes ago or twenty days?
“Miki-tiki-tavvy,” he said, expecting a reaction like an eye roll or the way her lips used to twist into a half smile. None came. She blanketed him with a blasé, stony-faced glare, which made him feel silly for even thinking about calling her the juvenile name.
