by Zahra Girard
This isn’t punishment. This is hell.
Every minute and every mile that passes, I think about her. The look of fear and pain she gets in her eyes every time she opens up about even a portion of her problems. Even over the roar of my engine, I can hear the fear that was in her voice when she screamed at me that morning she chased me from her home.
She’s intelligent, she’s educated, she’s capable, but she is in way over her fucking head — she needs me. Or she will wind up just like my mother — dead in a pit of despair.
That pain that I first felt when I was a child and found out about my mother’s suicide grips my chest all over again; crushing despair at seeing someone I love barrel down a path towards ruin.
And there’s not a damn thing I can do about it out here.
No phone. No way out. I’m heading to fucking Omaha. President’s orders. And the consequences of breaking those orders are severe and deadly.
Another few hundred miles down the road, and only an hour drive from the border with Colorado, we come to a stop in another small town called Divinity.
Divinity makes Respite look like Las Vegas.
Clyde Barrons, the man trucking our club’s shipment of guns, pulls his big rig into the lot of a rundown motel. Crash parks alongside him and starts unhooking his helmet and gear like he’s done for the day.
The sun’s still above the horizon.
I pull alongside Crash and dismount my bike.
“What gives? Why are we stopping?”
Crash nods towards Clyde, who’s checking over his big rig.
“Federal laws. Truckers can only be on the road so many hours per day. Then they’ve got to take a break. So we’re spending the night here.”
“At this rate it’ll take us days to get to Omaha.”
“That’s kind of the point, Razor.”
“Fuck. We’ve got people that need us and instead we’re out here fucking cruising and spending the night in these shitty motels in these middle-of-nowhere towns?”
“Stone wants you to have time to clear your head. So take this ride for what it is: a chance to enjoy the quiet, to see some fucking beautiful scenery, and to sort yourself out. The club is a brotherhood and a business and it isn’t good for either if you’re attracting too much of the wrong kind of attention. Get it together, Razor.”
“It also isn’t good for business if we bend over and let these Makris bastards fuck us in the ass.”
“Mack and Blaze will track them down. Relax, brother.”
“What you don’t seem to understand is that these assholes are like ghosts. Every single source I’ve checked doesn’t know where the fuck they’re coming from and doesn’t care to dig into it because every person who does seems to wind up dead. We should be back in Lone Mesa with the rest of the club.”
“That’s not your concern right now. You’ve got to let go of that shit and focus on your job, which is making sure this cargo gets to Omaha. That’s how you help the club — you keep this deal on track. The revenue we get from the sale of those guns means a lot to our organization. This is a chance for you to redeem yourself, Razor.”
“Redeem myself? Jesus Christ, Crash, you make it sound like I’m some poor lost soul looking for a path into heaven. I’m a man trying to protect his family. And I sure as shit can’t protect them while I’m out here. There’s nothing for me in Omaha — I don’t have a Rosa out there like you do. The only thing waiting for me in Omaha is boredom and death by self-destruction.”
“You make it sound like Omaha is hell.”
“Omaha wishes it were hell. It’d be a step up.”
“You’re under orders, Razor. I know what you’re thinking and, if you split, I sure as shit will let Stone know and you’ll be picked up the second you set foot back in Lone Mesa. So do the sensible thing: shut up, grab some grub, and then get some rest. We’ve got an early fucking start tomorrow and another eleven hours of driving.”
No matter what Crash says, there’s not a chance in hell I can let go of Samantha Baker. But I’m under orders from the president of my MC to take the slow road to Omaha. So I do the only thing possible to kill time in a tiny Utah town in the middle of fucking nowhere: I buy a bunch of low-alcohol beer, some junk food, and see how much almost-beer and junk food it takes to put me into a coma while I watch television. Turns out, it takes a fucking lot. And it doesn’t even do the damn job I was hoping for because the whole fucking time I’m thinking about Samantha and what will happen if the Makris brothers get hold of her. Those thoughts make my blood boil.
Somehow, I get to sleep and I’m tormented as visions of the woman I care about being brutalized dance in my head and tear my heart to shreds.
When the sun pokes its annoying face through my window shades, it awakens a man who knows that the best thing he can do to protect the people he cares about is to not go to Omaha, Nebraska.
I’m probably not the first person to think that no good can come from a trip to Omaha.
In that early morning light, I leave my room and head to the parking lot. It’s as I’m mounting my bike and striking the piston-powered beast to life that Crash comes out of his room.
Shading his eyes against the bright light of the sun, he advances on me.
“Don’t do it, Razor.”
“It’s happening, brother. No stopping it now.”
“You know, I can’t let you do this. Get off the bike, Razor.”
Crash is standing right next to me now, and he’s got a look in his eyes that says he’s sure as hell not letting me ride out of here without a fight. He puts his hand on my handlebars. This will not end easy.
But, for all the determination in Crash, he doesn’t have the heart I do. He doesn’t have the motivation. The woman I love is depending on me and there isn’t a man on this earth that can keep me from protecting her.
So I dismount my bike and ram my fist into the face of the MC’s secretary. He swings back, a right that catches me in the jaw and staggers me.
But I’ll be damned if I go down.
There’s too much on the line.
I will brutalize my own brother if it means saving Samantha Baker.
Snarling, I hit him with everything I’ve got. The first punch isn’t enough to drop him, but the second, third, and fourth do the trick. He hits the pavement like a ton of bricks and I lean over him and look down at his bloody face.
“I hate to do this to you, brother. I really do. But I love that woman and you’re all fucked in the head if you think I’m going to do nothing while her life’s in danger. I’d die to keep her safe. So you tell Stone whatever the fuck you want, it doesn’t matter, I’m still going to save her.”
“Stone will have you picked up the second you hit Lone Mesa, brother. You’re making a big fucking mistake.”
Grinning at him, I slide my leg over my Harley and twist the accelerator. The roar is comforting; where yesterday it was the sound of futility as I drove on to Omaha, today it’s the sound of progress and heralds the kind of fight that makes my blood hot.
“That’s fine, brother. Because I’m not heading to Lone Mesa.”
Chapter Twenty
Samantha
I start my shift like any other even though I know today may be one of my last; I’m stubborn, I have standards, and I refuse to let any of life’s assholes — Dr. Ayers, Jackie Price, the Makris family — ruin the fact that I am damn good at my job. Each patient I greet with a determination to be kind and provide them the care that will enhance their quality of life. I even smile when I face a bratty child who swallowed a full set of green army men and whose combativeness would put the entire regiment inside his stomach to shame. Not even the kid’s bitchy parents are enough to shake the smile off my face.
Nor do I let Dr. Ayers get to me.
Not even when he finds me alone in the break room and again he offers to make everything go away for just an hour of my submission. Which I’m sure would work out to be more like five minutes of my submission. Not even his sickening sl
eaziness can shake my determination to do right today.
Still, I give him a ‘touch me and I’ll murder you’ smile and send him on his way.
Nothing will shake my rhythm today. All my detractors? I’ll prove them wrong. And the situation with my brother’s debt to the Makris family? I’ll figure something out. I have to. I’m the only hope either of us has, because Razor still hasn’t answered my texts. I am all alone. That thought would scare me if I truly thought about it, but I’m so set on not having a breakdown today that I don’t even allow myself to think about it.
A familiar voice from just around the corner scrapes my subconscious and stops me in my tracks.
“Excuse me. I’m looking for a patient. I’m here to visit my grandmother. Can you help me?”
An orderly answers. I recognize his voice, at least. He’s one of our new hires, like me. Some kid named Jeff who barely made the cut to qualify to mop the floors.
“I really can’t give out patient information, man. It’s against policy.”
“Maybe you can make an exception.”
The voice is low. Sibilant. Sinister. Familiar. Kael.
Why is he here? The robbery isn’t supposed to happen for nearly a week.
I poke my head around the corner in time to see Kael give over a thick handful of bills to Jeff, who shoves the cash into his pocket. Kael’s not alone. There’s two other men with him and they all share the same murderous look.
“What do you need?”
“Like I said, I’m trying to find my grandmother. She’s old, of course, and a cousin of mine has visited her a few times. He’s a bigger guy, a biker, wears his cut everywhere. He gave me her room number, but they have moved her.”
“You’re looking for Ruby? Nice lady. Yeah, I know where she’s at. She’s not in the ER anymore. They only had her here for some tests, then they moved her. She’s up on the third floor, room 328.”
“Thank you, friend.”
The three of them leave the incomparable idiot to his mopping and head towards the elevators. Kael’s warning about cleaning up the club before he calls in our deal screams in my head and I know he would be just the person to kill an old woman in her hospital bed just for the sport of it.
Ruby is all alone, and she doesn’t stand a chance against Kael, much less Kael and two of his henchmen. I have to save her.
Except getting involved could be risky. If anyone sees me running off with an elderly patient, I’m not just going to be suspended, I’ll be fired. There’s no story I could tell — even if it’s the truth — that would justify that.
Am I ready to risk my job and my life to save her?
Before Kael hits the elevator button, I turn around and race towards the staircase to the upper floors. Two steps at a time, I sprint up the stairs and burst through the doors out onto the third floor. More than a couple doctors glance at me askance, but none of the nurses or orderlies even blink — they’re more than used to having to race around cleaning up after someone’s mess.
I steal an idle wheelchair and fly into Ruby’s room like a bat out of hell. She’s awake and sitting up in bed, a telenovella flickering on her old hospital television.
“Ruby, we need to go. Now.”
“I’m watching La Tentación, Samantha. Alejandro’s just come back from the dead to fight the mayor for the love of his fiancee. This is not a good time.”
“You know Spanish?”
“And French and Portuguese and Italian and a smidgen of Mandarin. For business, of course.”
“Well, this is important. I need you to get your ass in this wheelchair and we need to get the hell out of here, now.”
“Someone’s here to kill me, aren’t they?” She’s got the same tone as if I told her it was lunchtime.
“Three someones.”
“Well then, we probably should leave, shouldn’t we?”
“Yes, now.”
She lowers herself into the wheelchair and I push her towards the door.
“The same ones that went after my grandson, I expect. It’s a wonder it took them this long.”
“You’re not surprised?” I say, pushing her through the corridors of the hospital, taking her as far away as I can get from her room and the bank of elevators that the Makris brothers took.
“Not in the least. They don’t want any loose ends. I would’ve done the same thing.”
“Kill someone in the hospital?”
“Or wherever I had to. You can’t survive in this business and be careless. Kill or be killed, Samantha.”
I slam the call button for the service elevator and bounce on the balls of my feet as we wait for the ding that’ll herald freedom and safety. Just a few more seconds. As soon as those doors shut around us, I’ll hit the button for the ground floor, I’ll race to the employee parking lot, and then I can drive Ruby somewhere safe.
“Well, I’m getting you out of here. Now,” I say.
The ding arrives. The doors open. We enter the elevator and I smash the button for the ground floor. Once we get down there, we just have to make it down a short straightaway through the hallways and then out a back exit to the staff parking lot.
Just a few hundred feet to freedom.
I can do this.
“Are you really ready to do this, Samantha?”
Ruby’s cold voice hits me just as the elevator doors shut.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’m old. I will die sometime, probably soon, and I have a husband that I love very much waiting for me. But you? You’re young. You have a job doing something good for the world. This little thing you’re doing isn’t just going to cost you your job — yes, I know about your employment situation, the nurses on my floor gossip like hyperactive parrots — but I doubt the people that are leaning on you will appreciate you helping me. They’ll come after you, too. You could leave me, you know.”
“I can’t believe you’re asking me to let you just die.”
“Oh, fuck no, dear. I’d love to keep living. But, as smart as you are, this isn’t a game you’ve played before and I doubt you know all the rules. So, before you push me to the parking lot like a child racing with a shopping cart, think about what this might cost you. Are you ready to pay that price?”
There’s not a second that passes before I nod my head. It’s out of the question that I’d leave someone to suffer and die, even someone who gave me permission to do just that.
“No. Not a chance. I won’t leave you. I won’t even think about it.”
“Well, I appreciate that, Samantha. We will need a place to hide once we get out of here, so follow my directions, OK? I know just where to go.”
The elevator doors open and I push Ruby out into the chaotic corridor. The floor is packed and, for a moment, my heart rises in hope. I’m going to make it.
Then, from my left, Jackie Price’s voice calls out.
“Samantha, where the heck are you going with that patient?”
I ignore her. I don’t have time for any of her diatribes or threats. I’ve got a life to save. Steadily, I keep pushing Ruby and her wheelchair towards the back exit of the emergency room.
“Security, security, stop that woman,” Jackie calls out again, pushing her way through the packed corridor towards me, her shrewish eyes glaring death at me. “Samantha Baker, if you take one more step you are fired.”
“Shove it up your ass, you godawful toad-woman,” Ruby shouts, raising both hands and their attached middle fingers high in the air.
“Samantha, stop now,” she screams.
“Sorry, Jackie. I can’t do that.”
“You are fired.”
I enter the employee parking lot no longer an employee of St. Paul’s Hospital, pushing an old woman in a wheelchair and with three killers on my tail. As I race to my car and help Ruby into the passenger seat, I wonder if my life can get any worse.
It can.
I start my car. I back out of the parking spot and start towards the lot exit, just as a fam
iliar figure storms into the lot. Kael Makris and his duo of goons.
My eyes meet his as I slam my foot on the gas and speed away.
The look on his face is unmistakable: my brother is as good as dead.
And there’s not a damn thing I can do to save him.
Chapter Twenty-One
Razor
Robbie Baker isn’t a hard man to find. I got enough information from his text history with Samantha that I can track him to his workplace — KTL International Logistics — and between that and looking him up on social media, it’s easy to find the ratbag engineer. The advantage about his situation, being in debt to a bloodthirsty Eastern European mafia family, means that he has to stay visible and easy for them, and me, to find. The second he tries to go into hiding, they’ll snuff his fucking lights out.
I spot his two tails the second I hit the parking lot of his office building. They’re not subtle; the tracksuit one man is wearing is a dead giveaway for Eastern European scumbag. They smoke like chimneys and look as pale as a pair of bloodless corpses in a snowstorm.
It’s just past lunchtime and most of the office workers, including Robbie, are returning from their breaks. As I spot him in the crowd of people coming and going, I throw my cut into the saddlebag of my bike and join the throng of people heading into the building. This gets me as far as the lobby, but the lobby is as far as I can get — there are keycard access doors all over the damn place and I am not the type of guy that can go incognito in a professional office.
I will have to make Robbie come to me.
So I pace a little while I take stock of my situation. And take in the scenery. Because the lobby of KTL International Logistic’s office building is fucking beautiful to a gearhead like me. Beautiful enough that I could almost see myself working a desk job if my office was decorated like this; it’s an homage to shipping, transportation, and the internal combustion engine. Against one of the far walls of the spacious lobby is a gigantic replica breakdown of a ship’s engine — pistons, gears, cylinders, bearings, crankshafts and camshafts. It’s a thing of fucking beauty and majesty and halts me in my tracks for a minute while I take in its multi-ton glory.
