“Oh my god. What happened to him?” I breathe.
“He was shot. Sniped clean from a distance. They picked him off like he was a bright red target. I remember the sound of it. Sharp and high-pitched, not like you’d think. Maybe it was a trick of the wind or something, but I remember thinking it sure didn’t sound like a bullet. But it was. A bullet right through his temple. Killed him instantly. My friend, my brother, he was dead before his body even hit the ground. I guess I can thank god for that, at least. He went quick,” he relays. “‘Course, there’s no good way for the good to die young.”
“I’m so sorry,” I tell him fervently. “That must have been so hard.”
“That mission, as you can probably imagine, went belly-up from there. That same mission, I caught shrapnel in my sides. That’s where I got my nickname. Ironside. Yeah, they got me good, but I got out of there. I got to come home mostly in one piece. My buddy didn’t get to do that. Sometimes, I still think that bullet was meant for me. I was the one in front. I was the first domino that should’ve fallen. But it was him. I don’t understand why he had to die and I got to live. I guess I’m still figuring that out,” he says with a shrug.
I slowly slide off the bed and saunter over to him, draping my arms over his shoulders. I gaze into his deep, dark eyes. I can see the pain there, but also strength. So much strength. He looks back at me unapologetically, unabashedly. There’s no hesitation to the way he loves me. I rest my forehead softly against his, feeling his body heat wash over me. His hands slip down my sides, lingering around my hips and sloping back to grope my ass. A little moan of surprise escapes my lips and he tilts his face to kiss me. I melt into him, my body folding around to straddle him on the chair. I feel his fingertips drag up my ticklish spine and the back of my neck, pushing up into my hair to softly grasp a fistful. He lightly tugs to pull my head backwards and slightly to the left, making it easier for him to dive in and kiss my exposed neck and collarbone. I shiver and sigh. Goosebumps appear on my skin. He starts to rut against me, slow and intentional. His lips suck bruising kisses into my skin, and his teeth graze the blooming marks.
We take our time stripping off our clothes. We need this. We need a break. Tonight is a gigantic question mark, but for now, we have all we need.
* * *
“Come on, little girl. It’s time to roll out,” Ironside says.
“I’m coming,” I assure him as I pull on a pair of boots and slide off the bed.
I follow him up the stairs to the bar, where the others are waiting for us so we can leave. Outside, night has fallen. The darkness has settled in, and it’s time to make our move.
“You all good?” Big Daddy growls, looking around the room.
“We’re good,” Ironside tells him.
“Let’s go,” says Bones.
My heart is racing as we walk out of the clubhouse and into the crisp evening air. The moon is hanging high and luminous overhead, which I decide to take as a good sign. Why not? I could use a good luck charm tonight. We carefully mount our respective motorbikes and I take my usual spot behind Ironside. I wrapped my arms around him and held on tight as we rode out onto the dimly-lit back roads. We keep on moving through the night, putting a fair amount of distance between ourselves and the relative safety of the clubhouse.
After several hours, we end up at Sherman Hill, a ghost town from the mining boom a few miles south of the Wyoming border. I can feel the change in the air, the tension riding higher as we dismount our bikes and take our places. The gang rolls in around the flank the outside of the mine shaft entrance, where the prescribed trade-off is supposed to go down. I walk to the opening of the shaft with Ironside, my body tingling with nervousness. My eyes dart around as I clock a conveniently-placed nook in the rock formation that could possibly serve as a hiding place in a pinch. We all settle in and prepare for the inevitable meet-up. Half an hour later, after a brief whispered pep talk, Ironside checks his phone with a grim look on his face. Then, he says something to me that strikes an even deeper thread of fear into my heart.
“I suppose this is as good a time as any to tell you my real name,” he hisses. “It’s Dax. That’s my name. Maybe it won’t matter soon anyway, but now you know.”
“That is not super comforting,” I whisper back.
But he doesn’t wait to give me a response. He ducks out of the way as Diesel himself, the man at the center of the tornado ripping through our world, comes stalking down the sloping path toward the mine shaft entrance where I stand, positively quaking in my boots.
He is somehow even more intimidating than I pictured before. He’s a huge guy with a dead-eyed glare and a permanent snarl to his lip. He looks like the villain of every fairy tale I read as a little girl, and there’s no doubt in my mind that when he looks at me, he sees me dead. His entrance is made even more frightening by the men flanking him on either side. There’s Tank, our mole, on one side. He looks pissed and ready to fight, and it’s hard for me to remind myself he’s supposed to be one of us.
And on the other side of Diesel is a man I never expected to see again. It takes a moment for my panicked mind to place where I know him from, and when I do, the terror that grips me is nearly enough to bring me to my knees. I know him. He’s the officer who ran the club where I was held captive. Into my mind, a vision thrusts itself onto center stage.
I’m looking at his face, and he is looking at the dead girl.
He’s the one.
Ironside
I feel Justine’s hand dart to my wrist and grasp it just as Diesel rounds the corner.
The rest of the men have already gotten into their positions in advance. I sent men ahead of us, both in the mineshaft and in some of the old shacks around the circle of dirt road in front of the entryway up to the mineshaft where I’m standing with Justine.
A couple of our newer members are on foot at our side. It would look too suspiciously stupid of me to show up alone with the girl, and if I’m pretending to be committing treason against the club, it would make sense that I have co-conspirators. But we have more of an advantage than I’m letting on, and that’s the only way I feel safe having Justine anywhere near the bastard on that bike.
Diesel is a wide, thick man with a broad face, small, beady eyes, and a buzz cut that doesn’t hide the veins running up his muscular neck. He’s taller than either of the men riding at his sides, and his presence feels bigger. If Buzz hadn’t been killed when he had, Diesel would have been likely to make a move to seize power before much longer.
But that was ancient history, and Diesel was just a boy then, like many of us had been. Years have passed. The Diesel that rides before me has a flag bandana covering his head--colors he doesn’t deserve to fucking wear--and his bull nose ring glints in the bright moonlight overhead. As he comes closer, I see some of the tattoos on his forearms, and some of the symbols I recognize make my blood boil.
Resisting the urge to try to take a shot at Diesel right here and now is too damn tempting, but for the simple fact that all of this would be for nothing if I missed that moving target, I resist the urge.
“It’s him,” Justine whispers at my side, her voice suddenly thin like it had been when I first yanked her from the club.
“What?” I hiss.
“The guy at Diesel’s side,” she breathes with wide eyes, taking a step back, toward a rocky outcropping I’m glad to see she also noticed on the way up here. “He’s from the club. I remember him! I-I think he killed the other girl!”
“His name’s Dice,” I growl, eyes flitting back to him. “Don’t worry. Keep calm. We’ll get through this. I’ve got you. When I tell you, run for that nook, and I’ll cover you.”
“Okay,” she whispers, and Diesel rides up to the end of the last stretch of road, leaving about fifteen feet between us when he and his two officers--Tank and Dice--come to a halt. The other handful of riders hang further back, most of their eyes panning the area around them.
I pray the club can keep hidden we
ll.
“Ironside,” Diesel’s chain smoker voice says as he chuckles and brings his bike to a stop, dismounting slowly as he looks to Justine and drinks in the sight of her with his eyes. “Long time no see. Both of you. And to tell you the truth, I figured the next time I’d be looking at either of you is down the barrel of a gun,” he adds too casually to be a bluff.
“I was acting on Breaker’s orders when I got the girl, Diesel,” I say, staying professional and straightforward. “Unless Tank has been misinforming you. Don’t think I want in on your damn pimping ring, that’s not what I started riding for. And we’ve both lost too many men here--and for what?” I say, feigning a cruel look down at Justine that hurts me even to fake.
“Military boys, those are the real pragmatic minds,” Diesel says with a chuckle, glancing at both of the men at his side. “I did my homework on you, brother. Dishonorable discharge. Sounds like you had a disagreement with someone. I can understand that. Always thought you should have stuck around with Buzz, Ironside. You reminded me of him a lot.”
I feel sick to my stomach, and I restrain my grimace.
“So,” Diesel says as the three stand in front of their bikes in a row, “let’s talk terms.”
“She goes with you, and I walk,” I say, “and we settle our personal feud. Man to man, take this as a gesture of goodwill.”
“Goodwill, huh?” Diesel says, raising an eyebrow.
“Three of your men got in my way and went down before they even knew what was happening,” I say, my tone straightforward. “You take her back, and I’ll steer Breaker away from this warpath of his. War doesn’t make money, not for bikers.”
Diesel nods, putting his hands on his hips. “You’re right about that,” he says. “Sure does make me feel better, though.”
In the blink of an eye, he pulls a pistol from its holster and fires it...at Tank.
Tank’s eyes go wide as the bullet goes into his side, and Diesel fires a second shot into his thigh, and Tank’s mouth falls open as his heavy frame collapses to the ground. He bites his wrist to keep from screaming in pain as Diesel laughs.
“You honestly had me on the ride over here,” Diesel says with a sick grin. “But a little birdie tipped me off about ya boy Tank. But I figured I’d see it through and get three birds with one stone. Kill ‘em both!” he roars at his men, and as we both draw our weapons and my adrenaline lets my mind do what it knows how to do, I’m in motion.
The second he even touched the pistol, Justine was halfway to her hiding place. It’s the most valuable cover on our side, and that’s why she and only she needs to be in there. When I saw she went one direction and Diesel was aiming at me, I lunged in the opposite. The gun fires, but the bullet hits the mineshaft entrance behind me as I hit the ground and dart for cover as hell breaks loose.
The bikers behind Diesel spread out to cut off our escape, but as they do, the Heartbreakers roar out from cover like a swarm. Immediately, gunfire on both sides breaks out as the bikers begin to roar around the ghost town, surrounding the mineshaft with thunder on all sides.
Dice takes aim at where I’m taking over behind a boulder and fires off a few rounds that ricochet off the rock. He must be keeping me under cover while Diesel gets to his bike. Goddamnit, I can’t let Diesel get away from this, not when the plan is already crashing down around our ears!
I crawl to the other side of the boulder and know that as soon as I appear, I’ve only got a second or two before that gunfire is back on me. I have to make this count.
My legs move me with a swiftness I’ve never felt before, and I bolt out from cover toward a broken-down mine cart. As I run, I swing my aim to the bikes, where sure enough Diesel is in the process of mounting his bike to take off. I don’t have time to pick a body part. I fire.
“Fuck!” Diesel roars as my bullet hits him through the chest, and he clutches himself, but he still kicks off as his engine roars to life and carries him away from the fray, blood in the sand where he stood as I try to get another shot after him.
But at this range, it’s too likely I’d hit another one of the Heartbreakers to risk taking a shot. That, and Dice is already on me, and he knows I just hit his Prez.
Dice’s bullets shatter pieces of the rusted-through metal as he fires at me, and I realize I need better cover. Suddenly, I see my chance as Dice look to the south in alarm.
Big Daddy has just ridden down one of Diesel’s men, a metal baseball bat in his hand, and he takes a swing at Dice that hits him in the bicep before he can dive out of the way. I hear him cry out in pain as he hits the ground, and Big Daddy cackles as he rides by.
But before I can grin and laugh at his bloodthirstiness, I see a couple of Diesel’s prospects running forward, trying to storm toward me armed with a tire iron and hunting knife, respectively.
I’m out of bullets, and I don’t have time to reload--fuck!
I stow my gun and wait for the one with the tire iron to come close enough for me to lunge at him. He’s vicious, but he doesn’t have formal training. I get a leg around the back of his knee and have him crumpling to the ground in an instant. But as I’m wrestling the tire iron from his hand, the man with the knife bolts past me toward...Justine!
My instincts make me move faster than I knew my body could move. Having yanked the tire iron from his hand, I swiftly bring it down on the back of his head and feel him go limp in my arms before I get to my feet as I surge forward as quick as I was at the height of my training.
Justine is watching his approach with wide eyes, but I close the distance between us with several long strides and wrap the tire iron around his neck, catching him mid-stride. It gags him as I yank it back, and before he has even hit the ground, I raise my arm and Justine averts her eyes before I bring it down on the bastard.
“Oh my god!” Justine breathes.
I stoop down and pick up the fucker’s knife from his limp hand, and I carefully wrap Justine’s hand around it and look at her seriously as the sound of gunfire, motorcycle engines, and shouting curses roars behind me.
“Go into the mineshaft,” I instruct her, “hide just inside the entrance, and keep this close. Keep it pointed out. I’m not letting this fight get to you.”
She nods fervently, and I take out the pistol strapped to my leg and kiss her fiercely before running out to what feels like a battlefield all over again.
I have to maintain my thoughts and stay focused as the fray below. I take out my pistol as I crouch low behind a rock formation that gives me a good view of the fighting. Big Daddy rides around the outskirts of the fighting, swinging his bat around at anyone who dares try to escape, and I spot Breaker in time to see him pull another man off his bike and put a bullet in his head.
I take aim, and when I see one get far enough from the rest of the pack, I take the shot. One, two, three riders I’ve crossed paths with before go down by my bullets, one whose bike rides straight ahead into another’s.
We’re winning the day, but I don’t celebrate the loss of life. These men chose a dark path, and that’s a stain on the reputation of bikers everywhere. For that, I won’t lose sleep for putting them down. But seeing combat in my youth taught me one clear thing: the good in people is worth mourning, even if it’s lost.
My ear catches the sound of something behind me. I whirl around in time to see-
“Dice!” I roar, seeing red as he barrels right for the mineshaft entrance.
He had been behind my line of fire before I even got into position! Big Daddy had broken the hell out of that arm, but Dice must have been a tougher motherfucker than I thought. He runs for the shaft, probably running for cover from me, but he’s about to run directly into Justine’s hiding place.
I raise my gun and fire, but the shot misses and hits the rock above the shaft. Dice ducks down and rushes in, and I hear Justine shriek. My heart plummets, and my face goes white as I sprint for the mineshaft breathlessly.
I freeze when I reach the entrance.
Dice is le
aning forward, hunched over, and I hear him groan as Justine turns and pushes him aside, off her bloody knife moments before she drops it with a look of shock on her pale face. Dice ran blindly into the mineshaft and right into Justine’s knife. And that is a gut wound. He’s not getting up from that.
I rush forward to Justine and hug her, and she clings to my body desperately as I look down to Dice with my gun trained on him.
“Should have killed you instead of her!” he snarls as he raises a pistol, but I’ve already seen it and taken aim at his head.
A single shot, and Dice is dead.
Justine buried her face in my chest before the shot, but she feels the weight off her shoulders all the same. Immediately, she melts into sobbing as I wrap my arms around her and hold her comfortingly, stroking her hair, shushing her.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper. “You did great, baby. You did so great. You’re safe now. It’s over.”
“Is it?” she asks, sniffling as she hugs me and finally looking up at me, trying to regain some of her composure...without much success.
“Diesel rode off with a bullet in his chest,” I say, frowning, “and I don’t know what kind of damage it did. Don’t know if the bastard even has a heart to hit. But the boys are cleaning up outside.”
Ironside Page 16
