“I’ll do my best,” she answers. “Come back soon, please. And if you go visit your brother, can you take him his mail and tell him Mom says hi?”
I know I can’t fulfill her requests. But she needs me to lie. So I lie.
“Yep. Will do,” I answer hastily. “Bye, Mom. Love you.”
“Love you, too!” she calls out after me.
My brain is firing in all directions as I race downstairs and out to the street. I hurry back to my car and hop in, relying on my knowledge of the town’s layout to find my way to the address on the sheet of notepad paper.
As I drive, getting closer and closer, I wrack my brain for the best approach. I need to confront my brother. He needs to know that his actions have consequences, that his little gang is causing big problems. I need to ask him those difficult questions. I need to know what the exact fuck he’s been doing all this time. My own brother has become an enemy, at least in the eyes of the man who saved me. So much has happened. So much has changed-- not the least of all, me. It’s hard to say where my allegiance should lie. I can’t help but lurch toward Daddy. His strong arms and steady gaze, his hoarse growl pronouncing my name like a magical incantation in my ear. My body reaches for his in the moral darkness, again and again.
But visiting my mom has brought me back, in a way. These familiar streets. The way the sun arches beams of golden light through the trees so that their shadows cast long and jagged across the back roads I rumble down. I think to myself, I’ve been here before. But then, I’ve been everywhere in this town. There are only so many paths to take. In my years of teenage boredom, I must have roamed every nook and cranny of the city limits. I can’t recall street names, but the precise angle of the green sign leaning over the dewy grass is imprinted in my mind. I would recognize it anywhere. I don’t need a GPS. I follow the instinctual, directional pull of memory, and it leads me to a rundown house in a gray, sleepy part of town.
A shiver of cool dread rolls down my spine. I can see the house number just a few mailboxes down. I double check it with the paper crumpled in my hand. I cut the engine and sit for a moment, just taking deep breaths. I watch the street closely, barely daring to blink and miss something vital. I need to get a feel for the place, iron out the vibes and know how big the risk I run really is. Anytime my brother is involved, it’s a pretty sure guarantee trouble is close behind. The past is already closing in on me, but I can’t let it drag me down. With one last surge of courage, I quietly open the car door and slip out onto the cracked sidewalk. I lock the door, pocket the keys, and start making my way down the street to the faded address. I turn down the driveway, storming for the door. I’m steeling myself up, getting lost in the arguments playing out in my head, when suddenly the air is pierced with a frightened squeal. I stumble back, looking up toward the sound. It’s come from a window in Diesel’s house. I can see through the tattered white blinds-- a pretty young woman, shrinking back and cowering from something much larger that looms over her. It doesn’t take more than a millisecond for me to realize it’s my brother.
The woman looks exhausted and browbeaten, like all the hope has been knocked out of her body. My brother is shouting at her, hurling insults and accusations by the sound of it. The words are garbled through the glass but I feel the poisonous tone leaking through. I know how sick she must feel right now, just desperate for the tirade to end. Poor girl. I assume she must be his girlfriend… or one of his girlfriends, that is. But there’s no writing this off as a simple lover’s quarrel when I see Diesel violently backhand the woman, a look of callous disregard on his face as she shrinks to the floor in shock. I gasp and clap a hand over my mouth, totally horrified.
Then, a white-hot rage flares up inside of me. I can’t see him do that to another woman.
I dart up to the door and I barely have time to marvel at the unlocked handle before I burst into the house, wailing and flailing like a madwoman. Anger propels me across the room, moving so quickly that Diesel doesn’t get a chance to stop me. I push past him, knocking him back. I don’t give him a single glance as I rush toward the girl with the swollen pink cheek and offer her a hand. She looks into my eyes, hers wet with tears, and instinctively trusts me. I pull her up and all but shove her out the door.
“Go! Don’t look back!” I cry out to her. She’s hyperventilating and murmuring confused thank yous as she runs away.
I don’t get an opportunity to watch her safely disappear, though. I can hear Diesel’s heavy boots coming toward me. I hastily slam the door shut and dodge his attack. He slams into the door hard, grunting and growling fiercely.
“Where the hell did you come from?” he snarls.
“Same place you came from,” I bite back.
“Oh, screw off!” he spits. “You and I have nothing in common.”
“Thank god for that,” I reply.
“Why are you here, Juliette? What do you want?” he groans.
“I want you to be honest for the first time in your life! I want you to tell me what the hell you’ve been doing all this time, messing around with that damn biker gang. Who are you? Who the fuck is Diesel and where did my brother go?” I hurl at him.
Before he can even respond, a big guy comes lumbering down the hallway toward us. Reinforcements. A bodyguard. Of course.
“What’s going on in here?” he demands. “Diesel, what the hell? I just saw the girl running down the street through that back window!”
I dive for the door, even as it puts me dangerously closer to Diesel.
“Nobody is going after her! Let her go!” I hiss.
“I’ll deal with you,” the guy growls at me.
“Keep out of this, Chainlink!” Diesel barks at him.
Chainlink glowers angrily. “I’m not the one who needs to stay out of it!” he retorts, pointing at my hand.
It takes me a moment to realize what he’s indicating.
Oh god.
My ring. Diesel’s eyes widen and he pounces at me, yelling. “What did you do? It can’t be true!” he snarls.
“Stay back!” I shout back, balling my hand into a fist.
Preparing to sock my brother in the jaw with the ring Daddy gave me.
Big Daddy
That moment before the two sides clash feels like the calm before a storm wrapped into one. Before me is the plains on both sides of us, sprawling to one flank onward and onward until fences start to line the endless landscape beyond. On the other is a lonely old abandoned silo and a squat, decrepit building sitting just off to the side of it. The road doesn’t have a driveway onto it so much as an extension of the road and dirt, and beyond the buildings are dry hills that ramp up into cliffs. Blue skies overhead. It’s big sky country.
And right in front of us, barreling for us just as fast as we’re charging toward them, are the Buzzsaws and as many engines as they could muster, with reinforcements roaring out from behind the silo.
The moment feels still. Someone on the other side has a sawed-off shotgun raised, and as they draw closer, he and the rest of the gang drawing weapons are about to start firing off rounds. We’re just a little closer to the abandoned gas station than they are, and that’s the only advantage we’re going to get in this scrap. Both sides are acting on a snap call to action. Neither of us has had more than a few minutes to plan, but neither side is willing to get driven out of its territory.
Small as they are, skirmishes send an important message. We don’t want bodies, but if bodies are what it takes, then the Buzzsaws have already long since crossed that line with a lot of women’s bodies. But this isn’t just a skirmish, it’s a skirmish at an outpost that is most definitely not as abandoned as the ragged old gas station looks, and that means it’s got to go.
That’s why I don’t feel too bad when the first shot that leaves my gun hits a Buzzsaw enforcer in the shoulder and sends him spinning out, nearly taking out the guy behind him as the road bursts into a roar of gunfire.
Our bikes tear into the gas station and roar behind
the building for as much cover as we can all grab in as little time as possible. We might not have had long to plan, but my plan’s not a complicated one. It never is. Doesn’t need to be.
In the hail of gunfire that hits the bricks around the front side of the building, I’m among the crowd hurdling to the back. There might be people we need to save inside that building, so the Heartbreakers are planning to push the fight as far away from it as we can.
But we still need someone on the inside to go poking around. That’s where I come in.
As soon as I can come to a stop, Ironside does the same behind me, and two of our men dart ahead of us to take cover by a rusty dumpster, where we can hear the sounds of engines rolling up nearby. I don’t have long to get out of sight. Ironside follows me as I barrel for the back door, and we cover each other as we break inside.
The door hits resistance immediately. Someone--or more than one someone, by the sounds of things--was coming through the other side when I thrust the door in. I reached through and grabbed, feeling my fingers wrap around leather kutte, and that was all I needed to get a hold of. Ironside and I push the door open as I tackle my way in, throwing the man I’d grabbed to the ground while Ironside ran past me to take care of the second biker who’s trying to get his gun out while going for the door to the rest of the gas station.
Ironside grabs him before he can make it out, and while I focus on my man, I know he’s got his in hand. Before the guy in my arms can so much as get his bearings, I grab the back of his head and crack it to the ground, knocking him out cold. By the time I stand up, I see the man Ironside was fighting crumple to the ground, and Ironside presses himself against the wall and looks beyond the door while I do the same on the opposite side.
We get our guns out, but there’s no need. The place seems empty, save for the rumbling and gunfire we can hear outside.
“They’ve definitely used this place as an outpost,” I say after we do a sweep of the ruins. “I can tell where they were using the shelves for storage and left a few cots in the aisles.”
“Let’s make sure they didn’t leave anyone behind,” Ironside says. “It looks like they packed up.”
“Why’d they have people out here waiting to defend a stale outpost?” I growl.
“If they packed up not long ago, then a place like this isn’t a bad spot to set up a fight,” Ironside said. “Especially if they want to get an idea of our numbers--and think they stand a chance of thinning them out.”
“If they’ve already got one of those, let’s make sure they don’t get the second,” I say as I get low and sweep the whole gas station.
It’s not easy to search a place with a firefight happening outside, but there isn’t much to search. There are no prisoners here, and Ironside is right. It looks like they only had a couple of people here watching out and waiting to start a fight to test our defenses, and that was what they’d gotten.
“Let’s get back outside and disengage the men,” Ironside grunts, and he darts out of the office I’m searching before I can reply. I run after him, but once we’re outside, I we can see that the battle is already ending.
We see some bikes and bodies on the roadside, but there hasn’t been much blood on either side, at a glance--and the crew retreating is hightailing it, so the theory that this was ground they meant to give might have held some water. I can’t be sure, but I’m seeing the backs of Buzzsaws as some of our men break off to chase them away, and that’s something I can’t say I mind.
Something’s not right, though, and just as I’m thinking that, I feel a buzzing in my pants. I reach in and look at my phone, because there are only a handful of people who could be calling me right now who aren’t right here with me, and all of them would be emergencies.
Tank is not the name I’m expecting to see on caller ID.
“Tank, what’s going on?” I say immediately. “We just ran off Buzzsaws from the site.”
“Thank god, I called six damn times, thought they’d gotten you,” he cackles. “You’re not gonna believe this one, but I tracked him down.”
“What?” I say, furrowing my brow and turning to stalk back toward the gas station. “Who?”
“Diesel!” he says with bloodthirsty cheer. “I tracked Juliette and followed her to a house--and he’s here. We can move in and take him down, he’s away from his pack!”
“Don’t you fucking do it,” I say, my heart suddenly racing.
“What?!” Tank barks. “This is our chance, man.”
“Not if it puts Juliette in danger, that was the whole fucking point of me going out of my way like this, Tank,” I say in no uncertain terms. “No. Diesel is not above using her to defend himself.”
“We can’t just walk away from this, BD,” Tank says. “This is bigger than us, if we keep letting Diesel keep his distance, we’re never going to-”
“Meet me halfway,” I interrupt him suddenly, looking back out to the group.
“What?”
“I’ll text you a location, but start heading my way and I’ll meet you there,” I say. “If we take action, I’m not letting it happen without me there.”
“Are you sure Breaker is gonna be down for that?” he asks.
“You let me worry about that,” I grunt. “But I need to know you won’t-”
“Fine, fine, I’ll head your way,” he says. “Don’t get shot.”
I hang up the phone, and I shake my head as I trudge over to meet Breaker, who’s leaning on his bike handlebars as he stares out after the Buzzsaws making their escape, having hung back with the rest of the group. He turns and nods to me as I approach while the other men gather the wounded and making sure they’re disarmed.
We’re fighting for peace, not blood, if we can avoid it.
“Got news, Prez,” I say as he turns to me. “And I’m going to level with you, but I’m going to tell you up front this isn’t something I’ll negotiate on.”
“Let’s hear it, then,” he says, narrowing his eyes.
“Tank knows where Diesel is,” I say, and Breaker’s eyebrows go up. “He’s away from the pack, and he’s at his house. But Juliette’s there, too, and I don’t know why they’re meeting. All I know is, I’ve got to get over there now and get her out of there before she gets hurt.”
“Shit,” he snarls, spitting on the ground. “You know we can’t let him slip out that easy if we’ve got him, brother. Are you sure Tank’s intel is good?”
“He says he’s got eyes on them, but he’s meeting me halfway back,” I say. “With all due respect, this is personal--I’m not asking permission here, Prez.”
“That so?” he says, nostrils flaring as the subtle challenge while he looks me up and down. “If time weren’t a factor I’d be arguing more. Alright, here’s what we’ll do: you go on the condition that we back you up. I’ll send the guys to chase the Buzzsaws clear of their boss, and we head him off and give you a chance for a little heart to heart.”
I glare him down, knowing full well that I’m under as much pressure to negotiate fast here as he is.
“Fine,” I say at last, giving him a curt nod.”
“Good,” he says, grinning. “Now, let’s get the fuck out of here and roll fast.”
Big Daddy
Tank made good time, and we catch up with him at a gas station more than halfway to our side of the route. He’s pissed when we show up for even going out of the way this far, but he’s more eager to get back on the road and tear back down to Diesel before he gets away. I don’t even care about him, if I’m being completely honest. I mean, I do, but not in the way the others do.
I’m going for Juliette. The guys know that. They couldn’t stop me if any of them want to.
Riding with the original Heartbreakers fills me with a kind of peace. Breaker, Bones, Ironside, myself...and the new guy, but Tank’s at least earned his stripes. There’s no one thing about it. It’s in the rush of the ride, the faith we have in each other, the sense of community, the smell of the road and gasolin
e, watching the sun sail overhead.
It’s brief. I don’t get to enjoy it for more than one short, hard ride that feels ten times longer than it is to me. All I can think about is Juliette, about feeling that warm, nimble body wrapping itself around me in bed while I run my hand up soft, bare thighs. Those kinds of thoughts keep me company on the ride, even if they make my pants a little less comfortable.
Tank gives us a gesture that we’re not far from where we’re headed, and I’m mildly surprised. It’s a small town that’s on the outskirts of Buzzsaw territory, not the kind of stronghold in the dead center that I was expecting. Then again, I supposed the best hiding spot for a safehouse was somewhere hidden and unsuspecting.
I respect all of our members, but I have a hard time imagining us stumbling on this place if we went looking for it on our own. My hands dig into my handlebars, feeling burning anger in my blood. Juliette’s connection to Diesel is turning out to be what might kill him...and I don’t know if Juliette will forgive me for that, regardless of how things play out here.
There’s a fucking lot going on and I need a fucking minute to stop and think about things, and I don’t have that. Hell, I haven’t had time to stop and do anything, much less the one thing I want to do. My anger just builds as we ride, peace melting away to rage the more I think about how much of a bullshit no-win situation Diesel has set us up for.
Frankly, I want to put a bullet between his teeth for it all. But what happens when the three of us are in a room together is for me to find out.
Our ride takes us through a little trucker town off an interstate exit. There’s not much to it besides a motel and a handful of the usual fast food and gas stop businesses, and I happen to know it’s not the best area--rough around the edges in the way we tended to watch out for.
Once we’re past it, though, we’re only on the road for a few more minutes before all of us spot the same thing ahead of us around the same time. Tank looks back at us as if to confirm that he and Breaker aren’t seeing things, but we most definitely do.
Big Daddy Page 14
