Breaker

by Alexis Abbott

  As the arid wind blows over my face and through my hair, my mind carries me back to when I was a kid, watching my mom bringing home boyfriend after boyfriend, each one usually some level of worse than the last. There was anger in their every action. An explosion was behind every word in that tone I knew all too well. It was in their every look, every time they moved their hands, so close to turning to violence.

  I watched my mom flinch from them.

  Am I the kind of man that women flinch from?

  I’ve been trying to get away from my past as a heartbreaker, but the name still follows me, reminding me of where I’d come from. But I’d never broken another part of a woman’s body, and I don’t intend to start tonight.

  We ride under the pale orange light of a street light that isn’t long for this world, and the brief moment of illumination shows me the drying blood on my knuckles—Roadster’s blood. My jaw tightens, and I force myself to keep my eyes on the road. I can’t let myself get distracted in grief.

  Just keep riding forwards.

  It’s cold tonight, but knowing that the girl has my jacket over her shoulders now makes me feel better about it. Besides, the chill of the wind keeps me awake and alert without freezing me to the core, so it’s a welcome evil right now. I need to keep my wits about me. One wrong move, and I’ll be faced with a long stretch of empty highway to watch our doom roll toward us on thundering motorcycles. There’s not a lot of room for subtlety on bikes like mine. You move smart and careful, not stealthily.

  Shame that stealth is the only thing that’ll get us through tonight.

  She doesn’t speak for a while as I ride, and I’m surprised by that. I would have figured she’d at least ask me where we’re headed again, but she seems to have taken my last words to heart. Maybe she’s too afraid to say anything at all. That thought twists a knife in my gut, and I can’t let the silence go on much longer.

  I decide to break the ice.

  “Hey,” I shout over my shoulder, talking over the roar of the bike.

  “What?” she shouts back.

  “Can you hear me?”

  “Kind of!”

  I pause for a moment, thinking what the best way to go about this might be.

  “What’s your name?” I finally ask.

  She hesitates.

  She doesn’t want to give it.

  That’s reasonable, I decide, but I don’t want to be running around with someone I’m just calling “the girl” as long as we’re together. Maybe I can get her to open up if I meet her halfway first.

  “Call me Breaker,” I shout.

  “That’s what I heard them say,” she replies, and I wonder if she really does consider me just ‘one of them’ and no better. I can’t say I can blame her, if she does.

  Another pause.

  “Kate,” she says at last.

  “Kate?” I confirm, shouting over my shoulder, and I feel her squeeze me in confirmation. “That’s a nice name. You look like a Kate.”

  “Th… thanks,” she says, sounding surprised.

  I meant to take her off guard and make her feel a little more comfortable with some lighthearted conversation, and I could swear I feel her relax a little. She doesn’t ask for my real name, either, and I’m glad for that. I don’t want to lie to her, but I don’t want to give away my real name, either.

  Is it unfair of me to ask for her name, then? Sure, maybe it is. Then again, Kate could be a fake name too. That part doesn’t really matter. I just need something to call her. I’m not the one who’s been kidnapped, and if she were to get loose and run to the police immediately, I’d be the first one in hot water.

  “Where are you from?” I ask after a few moments of silence.

  “Stonedale,” she replies, and my eyebrows go up. That’s a decent distance from here. “We’re… we’re not heading in that direction, are we?”

  “I can’t take you back there, Kate,” I shout. “They’re going to be looking for both of us. Stonedale is probably the first place they’ll be after you, because they don’t want you talking to the police.”

  “I won’t, I swear!” she shouts, and I have to feel bad for her. She has no idea how naive her words sound. She can’t be a day older than eighteen, so I can hardly blame her for that. “I won’t talk to anyone, I just need to find Moxie and get home.”

  I don’t reply to that, because I don’t have an answer she’ll like. She realizes that after a few seconds of silence, and it breaks my heart to feel the anxiety radiating off her.

  Soon, we come up to a small roadside area that doesn’t even seem to be a town, just a resting station for truckers and travelers. There are a few gas stations and a ragged old fast food joint, with an eerie light coming from the drive-thru window, but most importantly, there’s a motel with a vacancy sign nearby.

  I feel Kate’s grip tighten on me in anticipation as she realizes that I’m heading toward it. This has been my plan since I left our poor excuse for a hiding spot earlier and hit the road again. I don’t know how the hell I’ll be able to hide my bike, but I need to get somewhere we can hunker down for the night and rest.

  “Are we stopping for the night?” she asks.

  “Yeah, I’m getting a room so we can-” I start to say, but I cut myself off halfway through the sentence as I enter the parking lot.

  Big Daddy’s bike is parked in the lot.

  “Fuck!” I curse, and I roar out of the parking lot, going back onto the highway as Kate hugs me tight and stifles a cry of terror. But I know it’s too late already. They were waiting for me, and now, there’s no chance they don’t know I’m here.

  But when I want to move, I can move fast. My engine rumbles under us as I accelerate down the road, speeding along so fast that it stings my eyes bitterly. There’s so much highway behind us by the time I hear the distant roars of motorcycles, I feel as safe as I can possibly feel out here.

  And that’s not saying much.

  Kate seems to relax little by little as she realizes the bikers aren’t going to catch up with us that easily, but she’s still tense as we ride onward, and this time, I don’t know how long we’ll be riding before we’re able to stop… if ever.

  “Do you think Moxie is still back at the warehouse?” she shouts.

  “There’s nobody at the compound besides the club and any groupies hanging out,” I shout back. “That’s what I thought you were when I first saw you.”

  “Groupies?” she asks, and I wince.

  “People who aren’t members or prospects, but they’re hanging out willingly,” I explain. “Usually to sleep around with us.”

  “Oh,” she says more quietly.

  “What does your friend look like?” I ask.

  “Curly blonde hair, kind of a party girl, hard to miss,” she says, choosing her words carefully over the loud rush of wind.

  “Don’t remember anyone like that anytime recently,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think they have your friend. That might be good news for you both, though.”

  “No, yeah, that’s… that’s good, I think,” she says, nodding. “Thank you.”

  I have to hand it to her, she seems like a compassionate person. In the same situation she finds herself in, not that many people would have their friend on their mind before anything else. I wish I could do something to give her some peace of mind about this Moxie girl, but honestly, I’m more surprised than anything that she isn’t a groupie. She sounds like the type.

  Kate, though, is more of a puzzle, and I wonder what she’s going to be like as soon as we do have a chance to stop running.

  She could bolt and find the nearest cop to talk to. She could bolt in the wrong direction and wind up in the club’s hands all over again. I don’t want to think what they’d do to her now that she’s tied to Roadster’s death. Sure, she didn’t kill him, and one look at the body would make it clear that it was my brass knuckles that did the deed. Still, there’s no telling whether Buzz will be anything approaching reasona
ble if he gets his hands on either of us.

  I’d sooner cut those fat fingers off myself than let Buzz lay a single one of them on Kate. I don’t know why I feel protective of her. Hell, I’ve just killed for her, a perfect stranger. I did that because I can’t be party to sex trafficking like that, but now, I feel like it’s personal. I can’t explain it, but I feel it, and right now, feelings are all I’ve got.

  Why did Buzz choose her of all the women in Wyoming?

  I can’t spare it thought right now. Even though the feel of the bike between my thighs puts me at ease, we’re still in danger, and I need to put every ounce of energy into keeping us out of the MC’s way.

  “Are those guys… were they your friends?” she asks, probably desperate for what feels like some human contact in the middle of a terrifying situation.

  “Thought so,” I reply curtly.

  “What was going to happen to me?” she asks.

  I say nothing in reply. I can’t. It would be no use to terrify her with what Buzz had in mind, and she already has more than enough reason to agree that running from the club is the only option right now. Besides, there’s that other niggling issue of whether she’ll put pressure from the authorities on me once we’re clear of the gang.

  Anything that could lead back to me is a threat. Hell, this whole insane rescue plan I pulled out of my ass is probably going to get me killed. But if that’s the way it’s got to be, I’d rather go down fighting for what I believe in than selling my soul. That doesn’t mean I can’t play it smart, though. I can’t trust her yet, not completely.

  Maybe not even a little.

  I check my mirror every few minutes, and eventually, I lose the sight of headlights far behind me. I’m weighted down a little with Kate on the back, but the club is traveling as a group and taking time to search stops and towns for signs of us. That’s slowing them down just enough. Then again, Big Daddy’s bike was at that motel alone, so they could be splitting up in towns to save time. Damn them, this is the same thing I’d be doing if I were hunting a guy like me.

  I need a new plan. The longer we’re on the road like this, the more this will just become a game of who can endure the longest. And the simple fact is that the club will probably be able to outlast us if it comes to that.

  Gas will, eventually, become an issue.

  I don’t have long to mull that over.

  On a long stretch of highway with very little visible ahead or behind us, the clouds cover the moon and cast us into darker shadows than ever before. I let the chill settle in and brace myself to push on to the next town, hopefully one that the club hasn’t gotten to yet.

  But my plans like to blow up in my face tonight, it seems.

  BANG!

  I didn’t see whatever it was—it might have been a nail, or a piece of shrapnel from an accident on the road earlier today, or even just something washed onto the asphalt after the rains. Whatever it is, it’s just sharp enough to pierce my tire, and Kate screams as we start spinning out.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I curse as we spin, and I do everything I can to steer the bike to the side of the road as it comes to a grinding halt.

  We’re stranded with no transportation, and my bike has just breathed its last.

  Kate

  Silence.

  It’s all just silence.

  And then, from the darkness comes a deafening thump-thump-thump. I’m so disoriented and dizzy with fear that it takes me a good few seconds to recognize the sound as my own heartbeat. My blood is rushing loudly in my ears, as though every inch of my body is thrumming with powerful terror. I feel sick to my stomach, and as fearful as I was on the back of this motorcycle when it was moving, it’s nothing whatsoever compared to the raw, unfettered horror of sitting on the back of it when it’s dead still.

  It all happened so quickly. First, we were riding along at top speed, and my faith in Breaker was just high enough for me to believe maybe, just maybe we could outpace the rest of the gang behind us.

  But now?

  I have no idea what’s going to happen to us. Dread seeps in at the edges of my mind, poisoning my thoughts and making me feel numb all over. There’s nothing I can do. Nothing I can offer in this silent moment. I just know they’re going to catch us. They’re going to show up any second now with their baring bike engines and their scowls and their evil, evil intentions. I can so vividly in my mind’s eye the drama unfolding: the guys picking me off the back of this bike and dragging me away from Breaker. The gang circling in around him like a pride of lions closing in on the weakest wildebeest on the savanna. Moving in for the kill.

  I wonder: will they kill me, too? Or is there an even darker fate than death on the horizon for me now? I swallow hard, feeling as though I might be sick. It’s too quiet without the rumbling engine to keep my horrid fears at bay.

  “What happened?” I manage to choke out between stunned breaths.

  “Popped a tire. Warped the metal. It’s over with,” Breaker growls.

  “It’s… over?” I repeat, stricken with terror. If he’s given up, that’s it. He was my only hope. Without him, I’m completely helpless out here. Will he hand me over willingly? Will he use me as a bargaining chip? My life in exchange for mercy on his own?

  But before I can fully embrace that dark future, Breaker snakes an arm around my waist and hoists me off of the bike in one swift, easy movement. I yelp with fear as my heels hit the muddy ground. The motorcycle, dead and ruined, collapses on its side with a sickening crunch. I stare at it open-mouthed and wide-eyed, feeling every last thread of hope unravel around me.

  “Wh-what do we do now? Oh god. We’re going to die,” I whimper, feeling the harsh sting of hot tears prickling in my eyes. “We’re going to die.”

  “Like hell we are,” Breaker snarls.

  He grabs my hand and yanks me away from the broken bike. I stumble as he drags me along behind him, his much longer and thicker legs pumping rapidly as he breaks into a full-on sprint. I gasp for breath, my heart pounding and my own legs quaking with fear. Exhaustion overwhelms me and the blood rushes out of my head, my vision swimming as I get too dizzy to see straight. The world around me tilts in a sick angle, like I’ve been tilted sideways.

  I try to will my legs to carry me faster, to keep up with Breaker’s dashing pace. But I’ve simply gone on too long without food, water, or rest. The full-body fatigue hits me like a freight train to the face and even though I cling desperately to his hand with my own clammy fingers, I can’t stop myself from crumpling to the damp earth, the world tilting on its axis. For a moment, Breaker still tries to pull me along, despite the fact that my knees are dragging the ground.

  “I-I’m sorry. I’m so tired,” I whimper weakly. “I can’t… I can’t keep up.”

  My chest heaves with exertion, my head tingling with dizziness. I try to summon the strength to get upright again, but it’s just too much. All the pain, all the fear, all the hours without sustenance or rest have caught up to me at the absolute worst possible time. It occurs to me, even through the fog in my head, that this could spell the end for me. This could be the night I die. Breaker is under no obligation to wait for me. He can move at a pace far beyond what I could offer even under the best circumstances, and these are the worst circumstances imaginable.

  But to my surprise, Breaker doesn’t desert me. Instead, he skids to a stop, swivels around on his heels, and scoops me up into his arms as though I weigh nothing at all. All I can do is drape limply against his chest as he breaks into a full run again, cradling me in his arms like some kind of life-size ragdoll. It’s nearly pitch-black by now, the moon blocked out by a gathering of dark purplish clouds. In the distance, I can still hear the ominous, echoing rumble of motorcycle engines as they thunder along toward us. We have nothing at our disposal but our bodies and the clothes on our backs. No weapons. No safeguards. Nothing at all.

  And yet, Breaker has not given up on me. There’s no way on earth he can see exactly where he’s going, and st
ill he bolts through the night like a bat out of hell, keeping me safe in his muscular arms. Against my cheek, I can feel his heart beating. Ba-bump. Ba-bump. To my surprise and amazement, it’s not even an accelerated heartbeat. Even under this extreme duress, he seems even-keeled and in control.

  No matter what fate befalls us at the end of this dash, I have to admire his tenacity and self-control. He doesn’t let the fear grip him the way it clutches me in a vice. He just takes stock of the situation and reacts accordingly. It’s awe-inspiring to watch, especially from here. Once my vision stops blurring so badly, I look up at him. I see the sharp, heavy cut of his jaw, his mouth set in a hard line as he carries me along. His muscles clench and tense as he holds me close, clasping me to his chest with all the strength and fierceness of a beast defending its territory. He’s overwhelmingly strong, and I can’t help but feel so protected in his arms. The moon slowly slides out from behind the clouds, and from my vantage point below, it almost looks as though the unearthly pale glow forms a sort of makeshift halo around Breaker’s head. My savior. My angel.

  My protector.

  I have no reason to trust him, and yet what choice do I have?

  Especially since I can still hear bikes rumbling in the distance, reminding me that trouble and danger are lurking close behind, nipping at our heels.

  “I can still hear them,” I murmur faintly. “They’re coming for us, Breaker.”

  “I know,” he replies softly without missing a beat. “But don’t worry. Sound travels fast through the valley. They aren’t as close as they seem to be. We still have time, Kate. You just hold on tight.”

  I want to believe him. I want to pretend that everything will be okay and that we’ll escape this chase unscathed. That we will both live to see the crowning light of morning and breathe a gasp of free air once again. But my hope is dwindling along with my strength. My body is so fragile now. I feel as though I must be made of dust, easily scattered by one strong gust of wind.