“I won’t run.”
I huff out a laugh. “Babe, even you don’t believe that one.”
“Fine, just go.”
I pull the blanket up over her. “Goodnight, Kara.”
“You’re not sleeping in here?”
“I’m gonna be up for a little bit,” I lie. I need some space from her. I don’t trust myself around her tonight. Things have changed between us, and I don’t think they’ll ever change back.
I flick off the lights and close the door.
“No! Leave it open. Please.”
I do as she asks and walk to the sofa. Grabbing a blanket and pillow from an overhead cabinet, I stretch out, punch the pillow a few times, tuck one arm behind my head, and stare at the ceiling, thinking of Kara in the queen bed. I dig the burner phone from my hip pocket and pull up the picture she sent me. Knowing that gorgeous woman is only a few steps away is torture for me, but I stare at the picture anyway. Fuck. This is going to be a long night.
***
At some point during the night it begins to storm; lightning flashes and thunder booms and the wind rocks the place. An unusually close strike shakes the glass, and when it quiets down, I hear Kara crying.
I get up and move, turning on the small light in the hall. I peek in.
“Kara, you okay?”
“I h-hate storms like this. They terrify m-me.”
I slide into the bed and take her in my arms. “It’s moving fast; it’ll be past us before you know it.”
She cuddles against me, and I pull the covers up over both of us. Her body is trembling, and I stroke her arm and back. “It’s just loud noise.”
“B-but what if a tree falls on us?”
“We’re not parked close enough for any of them to hit us.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, babe, I’m sure. Go to sleep.”
“I can’t.”
“Sure you can. Put your head on my chest and listen to my heartbeat.” I guide her head from my shoulder to my chest, and she doesn’t fight me on it. The rain pounds on the metal roof. Slowly, it subsides to a steady patter.
I hear Kara’s breathing change and know she’s fallen asleep. This feels like the first time I’ve really held her, and I don’t take it for granted. I’m sorry she’s scared, but I can’t help being thankful for the storm that caused this situation. If she only knew how much I want to keep her safe.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Kara—
The next morning Rusty returns, and we spend a quiet day playing cards.
Just before sunset, a group of motorcycles roars up.
Reno and Rusty jump up from the dinette and bend to look out the window. Reno straightens and points a finger to the bedroom. In a hushed voice he hisses, “Get back there and close the door. Don’t come out until I tell you, understand?”
I dash to the back, terrified. Whoever it was out there, they were unexpected and possibly unwelcome.
The RV rocks as Rusty and Reno both go outside. I peer through the blinds from the darkened room, knowing I can’t be seen.
Five men climb from their motorcycles, all wearing Devil Kings MC patches on their backs. The bottom rockers all say Georgia. This is Reno’s chapter, his club.
They look scary and badass, and I hope they leave soon.
They stand around talking, and I try to catch what is being said.
They pass around a bottle one of them pulls from a saddlebag.
I watch Reno. He drinks mechanically with a studied calm, but I know he’s not calm. It’s frightening to feel his uncertainty. His sureness and calm have become rocks of security to me.
One of them lights up a cigar. They’re all laughing at some joke I can’t hear, all except Reno. I watch the man with the cigar. I think he has to be the one I overheard Reno and Rusty talking about this morning—their VP, Rat. And then I actually do hear one of the men say his name, confirming it for me.
I study the man. The smoke from his cigar wreathes around his head. He holds the cigar before him, watching its glowing end.
“Ain’t nothin’ like a fine cigar, boys.”
I scan the circle of men around him. They all seem uncomfortable, like they’re in the presence of Caesar or something.
He gestures toward Reno and Rusty. “Take the prospect, and go get your bikes, boys. We’ll wait here with the girl.”
They exchange glances, and my stomach drops. I don’t want to be left alone with any of these men. Reno swore he’d be my protector, but even he can’t fight this if it’s an order from his VP. How would he get out of it? I don’t know, but I wish he’d think of something. Please, Reno. Don’t leave me to these men.
“I got no use for the bike now. I can get it later,” Reno protests, and my eyes dart to Rat. Will he accept that answer? I hold my breath, saying a prayer in my head.
“No time like the present. Ain’t no sense leaving your bikes around an RV campground where any fool could steal ‘em. I said go get ‘em now. Did I stutter?”
Rusty smacks the back of his hand on Reno’s chest. “Let’s go, brother. Won’t take long.”
Reno stands for a moment, staring down Rat, but ultimately Rusty shoves him toward the car where the prospect already waits.
After the car pulls out, Rat glances toward the RV and the back windows where I peek unseen through the slats in the blinds. I swear there’s pure evil in his eyes. The room is dark, and I know he can’t see me; still, I step back, shaking.
I glance toward the flimsy pocket door with no way to lock anybody out. If he comes back here, I’ll be trapped. I could try to climb out the window, but I know they’ll hear me. There’s nowhere to hide where they can’t find me.
I move to the window again and peek out. Rat slaps at his arm.
“Damn mosquitoes. I’m getting eaten alive out here. Let’s go inside.” He drops the cigar and grinds it under his boot.
I walk backward until my legs hit the bed, and I sit. Then I jump up again. The last thing I want is to be on the bed if one of them comes back here.
The RV shakes as the men board. Their voices carry to me. Someone is at the refrigerator.
“Fucking shit. All they’ve got is a six pack of Miller and a bottle of Tequila.”
“That’s a start,” someone growls, and they all laugh.
They’re moving around. There’s creaking, and the sound of metal snaps sliding across the dinette table. I imagine some of them have taken up residence in the booth.
“Check it out. This thing’s got a stereo.” It pops on with a crackle. Whoever is fiddling with it tunes it and stops on a station playing country music.
“Here you go. Good old Waylon Jennings.”
I hear a man singing that he’s always been crazy.
“Man, this music is gold,” one mutters.
Someone stomps their boot in rhythm and sings along loudly with lyrics about being busted for things that he did and didn’t do, and having one foot over the line.
There’s laughter.
One of them mutters, “You got that right.”
“My ol’ lady likes Florida Georgia Line,” someone says.
The man who was singing replies, “Yeah, sure, I’ve heard of Florida Georgia Line. I stopped to take a piss there once.”
There’s another round of laughter.
“Pass that Tequila over here.”
The smell of marijuana drifts to me, and I hear someone ask, “You gonna Bogart that joint all day, bro?”
Muttered conversation carries back after that, but the music drowns their words out. I sit on the bed, thinking they mean to leave me alone. And, for a while, they do.
***
Reno—
“I’m driving.” I shove the prospect aside and slide behind the wheel. Rusty jumps in beside me, and the prospect gets in the back. I tear off down the road, determined to make this the shortest goddamn trip ever.
Rusty turns to the prospect. He’s young, but Rusty’s his sponsor, and as such, he
’s loyal as hell to him. “You been keepin’ your ears open like I told you, prospect?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good job. I need you to stay on top of it.”
I look at the kid in the rearview. “Has Rat said anything about Prez?”
“Not specifically.”
“He seem to you like he really wants Prez released? Or is Rat enjoying having Growler gone?” I ask.
“I’d say he’s enjoying himself.”
Rusty warns, “You need to get as close as you can anytime he’s in a pow-wow with either Quick and Reload or that shyster attorney of ours.”
“It’s kind of hard to do. He’s always using Growler’s office now.”
“Listen up. I’m only tellin’ you this because our fucking club is on the line,” Rusty says. “There’s a closet behind the old furnace.”
“Where’s the furnace?”
“It’s in the part of the warehouse we don’t use. It backs up to Growler’s office. There’s a board in the back, you pull it out, and behind it there’s ductwork that leads from the furnace to Growler’s office. There’s a small hole been drilled in it. You put your ear to it, you can hear what happens in Prez’s office.”
“No shit?”
“Anytime he’s in there, you need to find a way to get there and hear what’s goin’ on. Someone questions you or tries to give you a job, you tell ‘em you’re already doin’ one for me. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Remember, especially if that shyster lawyer comes around. You report that shit straight to me. Got it.”
“Got it.”
I look over at Rusty. This board in the closet and hole in the vent is all news to me. “You the one who cut that board?”
He smiles, but doesn’t deny it.
“You sly devil.”
“You better hope so. That hole in the vent may be all that saves our asses and this club.”
I hit the main highway and gun the engine, praying I’ll be back before Rat or any of the boys mess with Kara.
***
Kara—
I sit as quietly as I can, barely breathing, my heart pounding a mile a minute. I pray they leave me alone, pray Reno hurries up. About ten minutes pass when I hear Rat’s voice.
“Hey, girlie. Come on out here.”
Someone laughs. “Maybe she’s tied up.”
There’s more laughter.
“Damn, now you got my dick hard, asshole.”
More laughter.
“Girlie! You hear me? Get out here. Or maybe you’re wantin’ ol’ Rat to come back there with you.”
My stomach drops, and I know I have to show myself; I do not want to be anywhere near this bed with him. I slide the pocket door open and walk out.
Six faces swing my way, and all their eyes travel up and down my body. I feel exposed, even though I’m dressed.
One of them lets out a wolf whistle.
“Ain’t you a purty little cutie-pie,” one with a gray beard says. He’s sitting on the couch to the right. He holds the joint in his hand. If Santa were a lecherous old biker in leather, he’d be this guy. He waggles his tongue at me, and I choke back bile.
The men chuckle, all but Rat; he just stares at me from the passenger captain’s chair. He’s got it swiveled around to face the back. He holds the Tequila bottle in one silver-ringed hand.
“C’mere,” he orders.
I glance over each face. They all stare back at me with leering gazes. I stand, frozen in place.
“Better do what he says, gal,” Santa suggests, taking a toke and eyeing me through the smoke with a sick grin.
My mind whirls a mile a minute, but my body moves slowly, like someone in a bad dream. I walk toward Rat, knowing they’re all now within distance to reach out and grab me. I almost expect it—to feel their dirty hands on my body.
Rat holds the bottle up. “You thirsty?”
I shake my head. He doesn’t take no for an answer, though, and instead grabs my hand and pulls me on his lap. I struggle, but his arm tightens around my waist, pinning me in place. And just like that I can feel the air in the room change. Every one of these men stares at me; heated desire shines on their faces. One of them licks his lips, his eyes falling to my chest. They all want a turn with me, and maybe they know they can expect one. I have no idea what Rat plans for me, and it terrifies me.
“Settle down!” he barks, and I’m still afraid of what he might do. He reaches around me and holds my jaw while he lifts the bottle to my lips, forcing me to drink. I do, sputtering and choking on the burning liquor as the men laugh. It dribbles down my throat, and Rat dips his head trailing his tongue along my skin, catching the rivulets in his mouth. I think I’m going to be sick as the men cheer him on.
“Soak her shirt with it. Let’s have a wet t-shirt contest. I want to see her pretty nipples stand out,” one of them suggests.
“Fuck that. Take the damn thing off her,” another demands.
Rat sets the bottle down and grabs my breast in his filthy hand. He finds and pinches my nipples, hard, and I cry out. I struggle, shoving his hands away.
“Leave me alone, filthy bastard!” I cry out.
His dirty grin slides from his face, he grabs my jaw and kisses me, bruising my mouth. I struggle, gripping his wrists, trying to pull away. But his hands are like a vise that only tightens when I resist.
When he finally pulls back, he holds my head still and snarls down in my face, “That’s what a woman’s mouth is for. You’d better remember that next time you’re tempted to run your mouth off.”
He shoves me off his lap and onto the floor at his feet. My palms slam against the cold floor, my chest heaving, and the DKs are all watching me, salivating like wolves, waiting for their turn to devour me.
“You disgusting pig!”
“Watch your mouth, bitch, or I’ll shut you up good.”
“If you kill me, I’ll be of no use to you, will I?” I demand, tired of being terrified. If I have to go down, I’m going down fighting.
“Tell her, Reload,” Rat grins. “Such courage deserves an answer.”
A man stands over me, leering down. He’s big with wild thick black hair pushed back by the bandana he has wrapped headband style around his forehead. He squats behind me, grabs a handful of my hair, and yanks my head back, exposing my throat to him. He runs his free hand up my neck. “Who says we can’t use you a bit? I think you’d make a mighty fine little plaything. Tie you to that bed back there and keep you busy for days… until you’re all used up. Is that what ol’ Reno’s been up to? He been keepin’ you real busy?”
Every word he says plays out in my mind, and I tremble, biting back a whimper.
“Besides, who says you’ll ever get out of here alive? Hope ol’ Reno never made you that promise.” He begins to loosen his belt, grinning down at me.
My heart beats wildly as fear holds me paralyzed.
The roar of motorcycles draws their attention, and Reload releases me. Santa twists to look through the blinds behind him. “Boys are back.”
The rumble of the engines cuts off. A moment later, the door opens, and Reno comes in, Rusty behind him.
Reno stops short when he sees me on the floor with Reload standing over me. His face contorts into a snarl, and he grabs a handful of Reload’s shirt in his fist and shoves him over the kitchen sink. A second later, he pulls a knife from the sheath at his waist and flashes it in front of the man’s face. The blade is long and wicked. Reno holds it dangerously close to the man’s neck.
“Want me to slit your fucking throat for you?” he asks in a deadly tone.
Reload dares to grin. “Well, well, aren’t you touchy about the bitch. You been dippin’ in that honey pot, brother?”
“Reload, you’re going to dig your own grave with that mouth of yours, sure as hell,” Rusty snaps as he holds a hand out to me and pulls me to my feet, shoving me behind him while the rest of the men are riveted to the scene between Reno and Reload, but not
one of them tries to interfere.
I glance from Reno to Rat, wondering what he’s going to do. He’s got a grin on his face. “Why don’t you boys take this outside and settle it fair and square? I could use some entertainment.”
Before I can even register this odd statement, the men start betting.
“I got twenty on Reno.”
“I’ll take that bet. Reload’s got a wicked right hook,” Santa counters.
Reno pulls Reload up from the counter and shoves him toward the door. “You heard VP. Move!”
Reload laughs as he pounds down the steps and slams out the door. Reno glares at Rat, then glances back to Rusty, whose shoulder I’m peeking over. His eyes briefly touch mine before returning to Rusty’s. He doesn’t say a word, but Rusty answers him anyway.
“I got her.”
The RV empties as all the men follow Reno outside. The last one through the door besides Rusty and me is Rat. He takes a slug off the Tequila bottle and winks at me before he steps through the door.
My heart is pounding. As soon as the door closes with a bang, Rusty turns. “You okay, doll?”
I nod, tears in my eyes. “What’s going to happen to him?”
“Don’t worry about it; Reno’s got this. He won’t even break a sweat.”
“They’re going to fight?”
“Yup.”
The sound of flesh slapping against flesh carries inside, and I know that must be their fists.
Rusty moves to the door and opens it, watching from the steps. I peer over his shoulder. The four DKs form a circle around the two men exchanging blows.
All I can see are the two pounding each other mercilessly. My pulse drums, my heart beats so loudly and so fast I feel faint.
I’m dimly aware of the heaving chests, the pounding blows, the primitive male encounter there in front of me. The men around them laugh. This is a game to them. I cover my ears, hating it, but I can’t look away.
Reno pummels Reload who stumbles back. One final blow drives him to the ground. The two who bet on Reno cheer, while the other grumbles and kicks Reload in the side. “Stupid fuck, you had him.”
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