by Zahra Girard
She makes the call and, through snot and tears, gets the message across. I hear her husband yell loud enough through the phone that she flinches but, when I motion for her to hang up, she does and looks at me with meek, tear-shining eyes.
“He’ll be there,” she says. “He loves me, he won’t make trouble. Just don’t hurt me, please.”
“Good for you,” I say. Then I nod and then motion to the others. Excitement builds in my chest — finally this whole fucking nightmare will be over and I can leave Carbon Ridge and Violet Cassidy behind me for good and get back to doing what I do best: earning for the club. “Back on the road, brothers. In just a couple hours this will all be over.”
We drive. Julie stays silent the whole damn time except for a few sniffles and one suppressed sob. The woman’s tough. And she doesn’t make drama, either. No wonder Dread loves her.
We get to the meeting point a few hours in advance, and the waiting passes with hardly any conversation between any of us. Every single one of us wants this over, and the only time I talk is to give Blaze an assault rifle from our weapons cache and tell him to wait in the woods next to the rest stop to keep an eye out for any trouble from the Death’s Disciples. I don’t doubt that Dread has given his club strict orders to stay in line, but I also don’t doubt that motherfucker Switchblade is just the shithead to pull something. And I won’t fucking have that. There’s not a damn thing on earth that I’ll allow to derail this deal.
The Death’s Disciples arrive five minutes early to the meet. There are six of these bastards on motorbikes, all carrying, plus a sedan being driven by another Death’s Disciple, Switchblade, with Kendra in the front seat, bound and gagged.. They form a semi-circle around us, guns in hand, and Dread maneuvers his bulk off the bike.
I have my gun out, as do Mack and Snake, and I keep the barrel of my gun squarely in the ribs of Julie Deacon.
“You must have a fucking death wish to touch my wife, you punkass cocksucking cunt,” he growls.
“Nice to meet you, too, Dread. Let’s skip the small talk and get down to business, shall we? Unless you want to see what your wife looks like with a few extra holes in her? Might make an interesting sight to see before my brothers shoot your fucking head off.”
“Suck my dick, you piece of shit. You know if you try any shit, my boys will blow every one of your motherfucking heads off.”
“Sounds to me like you’re not here for business, you just want to see your wife die. You know, if you’re that desperate to get rid of her, you could just hire a divorce attorney. That way your life as a single man will last longer than the few seconds it takes to put you in my sight and pull the trigger after I finish putting a few slugs in your wife’s head.”
“Roger, will you stop trying to measure dicks with this guy and get me the fuck out of here?” Julie says, her voice a shriek of desperation.
Dread’s face softens, and he motions to Switchblade, who exits the car and drags Kendra into the semicircle.
“Here. Take this stupid cunt and get the fuck out of here,” Dread says.
I shake my head. “No, I want more than that.”
“Don’t get fucking greedy, you piece of shit,” Dread says.
I shove my gun between Julie’s ribs, and she yelps in pain. “Unless you want to watch her bleed out, you will listen to what I have to say. Got it?”
“Roger, please,” she yelps.
Dread nods.
“You will hand Kendra over, and you will promise me you and your club will stay away from Violet, away from Josie, away from Kendra, away from Teddy, and away from anyone who fucking works at the fucking Timberline Tavern, or else my brothers and I might find our way back to Carbon Ridge. You understand me?”
Dread glares, his gun shaking in his hand with rage.
I’m walking a fine line here. This isn’t how I normally do business — I keep emotion as far away from this shit as possible — and it’s clear that one wrong move could turn this meeting into a bloodbath; but the second I see Switchblade and the look on his face — a sly smile, like a fucking wolf eyeing a herd of sheep, just waiting for the guard dog to turn its fucking back — I know I can’t let that shit lie. I have to do something to keep Violet safe. Even if it means risking everything.
“Fine. Just give me back my wife.”
“Then we have a deal,” I say, and I let Julie go and she sprints toward her husband, tossing herself into his arms. They hug, kiss like fucking teenagers, and then he waves for Switchblade to do the same and release Kendra.
She’s a lot less quick to come over to our side, though I don’t blame her, she hardly knows who the fuck we are, and the only memory she has of us is that night of the bar fight when her almost-boyfriend Teddy got stabbed.
“Who the fuck are you?” She whispers as she walks past me.
“Violet sent us,” I say, and it hurts to even say her name aloud. Even now, I can’t bite back the pain in my heart that surges every time I think of her. She was special, a rare woman that comes around once in a lifetime. But it was being with her that threw everything I have with the club into chaos and, it’s because of that, that I have to leave her behind. I love her, I’ll always love her, but my loyalty belongs to the MC. Shaking my thoughts clear, I hand the keys to the van over to Kendra. “There’s your ticket home. Don’t stop until you get to Carbon Ridge. Go.”
“Thank you,” she says as she takes the keys. “I really don’t know how to repay you.”
“It’s just a job. I’m only doing what I had to do. You want to repay me? Get back to Carbon Ridge and keep yourself, your daughter, and Violet out of trouble. You’re OK to drive, right?”
“Yes, I’m fine.”
“Good. Then you get home and you watch out for everyone. You’ve got something special there, and your little Speed Demon is the coolest kid I’ve ever met. You need to keep yourself safe and enjoy just how damn good you have it. You hear me?”
She nods and gets into the van and drives away. I stay and watch, keeping my eyes on her until her tail lights fade down the highway. Julie and Dread break their embrace, and he gets onto his bike with her riding behind him. They pull away, with Switchblade following.
And it’s as he passes me that I lock eyes with him through the windshield of the black sedan. And he draws his finger across his throat and winks.
That sight sinks into my gut. This isn’t over.
“Come on, Crash, we need to get the fuck back on the road,” Blaze calls out as he strides out of the woods and toward the cargo truck.
“You’re right. Let’s go, brothers. We got fucking hours of riding ahead of us,” I call out and head toward my bike.
It feels good to be back on the leather, to feel the rumble of the engine between my legs as I crank the accelerator and guide my ride back onto the highway heading east. There’s a lengthy ride ahead of me, miles of open road, and the chance to finally redeem myself to the club by carrying out the job I set out to do.
But, no matter how far I drive, how hard I crank the accelerator and try to lose myself in the open road, I can’t shake the thoughts of her. Can’t shake the feelings that pull at my heart so hard it feels like that beating organ is about to be ripped from my chest. Can’t forget the look that was in Switchblade’s eyes as he drew his finger across his throat.
I crank the throttle harder, feeling my heart roar right along with the engine. I know that son of a bitch’s intentions. Know the violence he will mete out in retribution for what I’ve done.
Still, I have to leave that behind me. Have to focus on my mission with the club. I’ve dedicated my life to protecting and supporting my family, and I can’t slip now.
But, no matter how fast I ride, it doesn’t matter. I can’t leave behind the thoughts of her, in pain, screaming in fear as Switchblade chases her down.
An hour away from our meeting point, I turn around. It’s the only thing I can do. Because I love her and I can’t leave her to that monster.
I have
a new mission, now: to finish what I started.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Violet
I’ve shed a lifetime’s worth of tears in the past week. Yet, when I see Kendra standing on my doorstep — bruised, bloody, but smiling from ear to ear — I cry even more. But these are happy tears. Tears that burst from me in joy, that erupt in laughter as I finally get to put my arms around my best friend and hug her. My best friend is back. She’s been with me through thick and thin, she’s suffered through hell, but she’s safe.
I squeeze her extra tight, despite her feeble ‘oofs’ of protest, just to reassure myself that she is real.
And, it’s while I’m in her arms, that I forget all about the heartache that’s been eating me up; I’ve lost the man I loved, lost the bar I risked everything to build, but it’s all worth it because I have my best friend back.
“Oh my god, you’re alive,” I cry into her shoulder. “I love you. I’m so happy right now.”
I don’t feel guilty about spilling tears all over her; my shoulder’s wet with her tears, too. Tears and snot that flow freely as she laugh-cries in pure happiness and relief against me.
“I can’t believe it,” she whispers. “I never thought I’d see you again.”
“You’re here now. And you’re safe. It’s all over. Come inside, let me get you something to drink. Do you want coffee or something stronger?”
“Oh, something stronger, please. I could use about a thousand drinks after all this,” she says.
It’s hard to let go of Kendra, I keep thinking she’ll disappear as soon as I release her, but I manage and, smiling so hard it hurts and sniffing back the snot and tears, I lead her into the kitchen and pour her a drink. My entire body tingles in confusion — I don’t know whether I want to break down in laughter or tears.
He did it. He really did it. He brought her back to me.
And now he’s gone.
I had a man who could’ve been a fantastic, loving partner and a fierce protector, and I lost him. No, we chased each other away. Because neither of us were willing to take that final, flying leap for love.
It’s those thoughts that tip the scales toward tears, but I don’t want to dampen Kendra’s joy at being free and alive, so I turn my back to her and pretend to pour myself a drink while I fight back the sorrow and heartache.
I have my best friend back, now. I have to focus on that.
“Where’s Josie?” Kendra says, as I turn around and take a seat across from her at the kitchen table.
“Upstairs. Sleeping. I let her watch a scary movie until she got tired. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, I’m just grateful you took care of her. I am so lucky to have you,” she says. Then, after a sip, she gives me a quizzical look. “The man that saved me, the biker, Crash, he called her ‘Speed Demon.’ Why?”
“That’s her nickname, now.”
“Oh my god, was she spending time with them?”
And, just like that, I defend the man I couldn’t chase away fast enough just hours ago.
“They were real good to her. She and Snake got along great — they both love the same movies — and Crash spent a lot of time helping her with her Goosebumps reading homework. They gave her the nickname ‘Speed Demon’ because they were swapping stories about bike riding and she told them about the time she built that jump and wiped out. This whole situation with what happened to you would’ve been a million times worse if they weren’t around to help keep her happy and make her feel safe.”
I surprise myself with how vehemently I defend them. But every word is true; as much as Crash and his friends are cold-blooded criminals, they were giant teddy bears when it came to making that little girl feel safe.
Kendra blinks and nods. “I had no idea. And I never would’ve thought that from the way they were so quick to get out of there once they made sure I was safe and got Dread to guarantee that the Death’s Disciples would leave us alone.”
Clearing my throat, I seek shelter in my glass, trying to hide the tears in the corner of my eyes and the tightening of my throat that happens any time I think about Crash. He was a good man, better than I thought I’d ever meet, and it pains me deep in my heart to think about how we’ve had to separate.
“I might’ve chased him away,” I say, my words so quiet I can hardly hear them. Then, louder, I say, “I should go wake up Josie. She will be so happy to see you.”
“Give me just a minute. Well, more like five minutes. I want to clean myself up a bit before she sees me. I don’t want to scare her too much. Oh, and can I borrow some of your clothes? I haven’t changed since they took me and I smell, and look, like warmed-over sewage.”
I laugh. “Yes, help yourself. And how about I wait fifteen minutes before I wake her? Honestly, you really need a full shower to wash all that grime off.”
“I’m only giving you a pass on telling me I stink because you saved my life,” she says, and then she creeps upstairs to my master bedroom to help herself to some of my clothes and use my bathroom.
In silence, I sit, and I think. And, like it has done so many times since, I think about Crash. About what life could’ve been if we had found a way to make it work. He made me feel special and loved in a way I never had with any partner, and he made me feel safe no matter what kind of danger I was in. I doubt whether I’ll ever find anything close to that ever again.
No matter what, it’ll be a long time before I even think about getting close to another man. If ever. So much of my life is in shambles right now — my bar is gone, I’ve lost the man I love, I’ve just now regained my best friend — that it will take a lot of work to put things back together. Who knows when I’ll feel ready to put myself out there again? Maybe never.
Crash. The first, and last, man I’ll love.
There’s a knock at the front door and my heart — and the rest of me — leaps up so fast on hearing the noise.
Has he come back for me? That hopeful refrain repeats in my head and my heart. Maybe he’s changed his mind. Maybe he’s willing to take a risk, to let someone else other than the club share his heart.
Then I open the door.
And the refrain in my heart changes, becomes a prayer for mercy and protection, as I see Switchblade and the knife in his hands. Before I can cry out, he seizes me by the throat and pulls me within inches of his grinning, malevolent face.
“Hey sweetheart. Let’s take a ride.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Crash
I’ve never ridden faster. Never pushed my bike harder. And every mile that burns by, I feel my heart rise higher in my throat as the worry that I’m not going fast enough, that I won’t be there to save her, grows.
I take every kind of risk driving down the mountain roads leading to Carbon Ridge. More times than I can count, I nearly crash my bike, gliding over patches of ice and feeling my tired wobble as I skid over chunks of uneven gravel — remnants of rockslides past.
Faster, I scream at my bike. Faster, damn it.
Business, the mission, all of that seems so unimportant compared to the urgent need I have to save that special woman from Switchblade. Because, no matter what Dread might say, I know there’s no leash strong enough for that sick son of a bitch.
Through downtown Carbon Ridge, I fly through every stoplight and stop sign, making a beeline right for Violet’s home.
I have to get there. Have to protect her. Fuck everything else. If she’s been hurt, I won't be able to live with myself.
As I draw up her driveway and the sight of her open front door, with the huddled figures of Kendra and Josie standing in it, grows in my vision, I feel my sight go black with sickness and rage.
She’s gone.
Taken.
I know it before Josie comes running toward me, arms open, tears streaming down her face. And seeing that little Speed Demon come running toward me makes me want to howl in anger.
“Uncle Crash, she’s gone,” she wails, throwing her arms around my waist. �
�She’s gone. You need to find her. You have to.”
Kendra says nothing. We trade a knowing look, because she’s smart enough to understand what’s happened here: Switchblade.
“I will, little Speed Demon. I will,” I say, as I ruffle her hair and kiss her forehead. “I’m going to need you to stay here with your mom. You’re going to have to protect her. Can you do that for me? Can you be brave?”
With tears running down her cheeks, she nods. “I will.”
I give her a tight hug and then get back on my bike and tear down the road. My mind races faster than my wheels, fearful and violet thoughts speed through my head, and I force myself to focus.
He can’t have too much of a head start. And he can’t take Violet anywhere that Dread would find out, because, as much as that old man is a bastard, he seems like the type to keep his word.
Think, damn it.
My eyes open wide.
There’s one place in this town that means the world to Violet. And it’s a place where Dread and the rest of the Death’s Disciples have sworn to stay away from.
Her bar.
My tires scream as I gun my bike and speed toward the Timberline Tavern, pushing the engine so hard it howls like an animal in its death throes.
A few blocks away, I stop my bike and hop off. The only advantage I have over Switchblade is surprise, and I need to go the rest of the distance on foot or else I’ll tip him off and risk him killing Violet.
I run those last couple blocks. In the parking lot, I spot his bike, parked right by the front door and steam rising from the still-warm engine.
Maybe I’m not too late.
Through a window, I peer inside, and see him tying a struggling Violet to a chair. At his feet, there’s a can of gasoline. When Violet struggles too much, he hits her hard with the back of his hand and she slumps over in her chair, unconscious. It takes everything I have not to charge inside and go after him.
But I have to play this smart. One wrong move and she’ll be dead.