by Lena Bourne
I know it now. I think. And it’s like my entire body, mind, and soul are now this weird stormy place, where it’s calm and soft one moment, but then tumultuous and seething with rivers, strong currents, and gusting winds of emotions I’ve never felt this clearly before. Passion, lust, desire. Those are strong and those I know. But this soft, velvety, flowing wish to just have him in my arms as we kiss and caress each other is just as strong as those. It’s more foreign to me, but natural too.
And it all culminates in an unquenchable need for him to come to me several times a day.
The fact that I’m stuck inside a tiny motel room with a TV that has exactly five channels, none of them with good reception, makes the hours drag.
The fact that he only called for five minutes at noon to tell me he’ll be very busy for the next two days isn’t helping. Nor is the fact that he hasn’t returned any of my three calls since then.
The sun that woke me is setting now and I’ve been so restless and agitated all afternoon I’ve paced the room so much my thigh are aching.
I need him. I don’t want to need him. I’m afraid I’ll never see him again. I’m afraid it’s already started. I want him in my arms right now. I’m mad he’s making me wait.
In between all that, the soft flowing sweetness that’s this thing we share is fluid. But it’s growing fainter.
Two days?
How the fuck am I supposed to make it two days? I walk to the phone and pick up the receiver to make sure it has a dial tone. It does. Clear and loud. There’s nothing wrong with the line.
He’s just not calling.
And it’s getting dark outside.
How long am I supposed to sit here and wait for a call, a visit that might not be coming?
Forever, the soft river of sweetness is whispering to me. But I don’t believe it, I don’t trust it. I haven’t known it long enough to trust it.
At nine PM I finally realize I’m starving, because I refused to go out all day waiting for a call that never came and might never come.
Cursing myself for a stupid, naive little woman, I get dressed and stalk across the parking lot to the reception area, fully ready to take my annoyance out on the pimply kid. But the desk is manned by a plump woman in her forties. She’s wearing a flowery house dress stretched tight across her huge chest, and her permed, bright red hair is a frizzy cloud around her face.
No free pizza for me tonight, I guess.
I get the number for it from her, then, on the spur of the moment, ask how far a walk it is to it. I need to get out of the room and out of my head.
“You don’t wanna be walking along that road by yourself in the dark,” she tells me once she’s done explaining where it is. “Better have it delivered.”
“I’ve walked darker roads,” I tell her and leave.
It’s not a lie, literally or figuratively speaking. And the one I’m walking on now, this path of sweet surrender Colt is leading me down might be the darkest yet. Scarier than any deserted country road. Especially if I end up crashing into a wall at the end of it. The wall of never seeing him again because it was all just in my head.
Colt
The spot me and Blaze chose as our lookout offers a great view of practically the whole town, but it’s basically just a narrow space between two large rocks, only wide enough for the two of us to lie down and not much else. The rest of the terrain is bare, unless you count the thick, knee-high thorny shrubs that seem to love growing here.
The town below is bursting with people. I doubt it was ever this full, not even in its heyday. I’m guessing it’s all the remaining members, along with all the club whores and most of the wives and children to boot. The most exciting thing that happened was a short curly-haired woman dragging the tall, willowy redhead from one of the buildings along the main street by the hair, she proceeded to yell and scream to her about keeping her filthy hands off her husband while kicking her and pulling on her hair some more for a good ten minutes before the guys finally managed to pull them apart.
I was gonna make a second phone call to Brenda after that, before Blaze so very unhelpfully pointed out that if we could clearly hear what those two women were yelling at each other down here, they’ll probably hear my lovey whisperings down there too. I hated the fact that he was right.
It’s full dark now, and most of the houses below are fully lit up. All hundred and eighteen buildings down there—I know, because I counted them four times while I was bored out of my mind all afternoon—are lit up, so it’s like a lake of yellow light down there. Music, shouting, and laughter are coming from the building that was the site of the chick fight before, so that’s gotta be the new bar. By my rough count, there’s gotta be at least fifty MC members and most of the club whores in there now.
The house on the hill is mostly dark, only the lower windows on one side lit up. Snake has been in and out three times today and has had at least ten different visitors. He’s acting as their leader, there’s no doubt about that, but if there’s a chain of command under him, I haven’t been able to spot it.
“I think Ace should take extra care to confirm that all the guys down there are actually Sinners,” I say very quietly, but not in a whisper because whispers carry better. “Or maybe we could get Brenda up here and she can do it. She probably knows them better. She might even know some of the wives and she certainly knows all the whores.”
I can barely make out Blaze’s face in the darkness, but I clearly see him rolling his eyes at me. “You just want that girlfriend of yours up here. I’m sure Ace has his orders and I’m sure Cross is way ahead of you on coming up with them.”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” I say, ignoring the rest and grinning. “But I want her to be.”
“Dude, you fall for women too easily, and you’re always disappointed in the end. Watch out with this one, she’s been around the block and she knows what’s what,” Blaze says.
“She hasn’t been around this block,” I say, meaning myself, and it’s a pretty lame thing to say, overall. Leave it to Blaze to put his finger on the exact spot that’s been nagging me for the past two days.
Is Brenda just faking it all for a free ride with me? She was doing it with Piston and she’s in no hurry to get back to her old life in Vegas. Does that mean she’s still hunting?
“Whatever, she’s fun and I like her,” I say. “Now quit talking trash about my lady.”
I was joking, but being serious at the same time and I know Blaze got it.
“All right, Colt. I’m just worried. You’ve made enough mistakes for this woman already. And you gotta keep your focus on this job. It ain’t gonna be easy and I have no desire to be at your memorial service any time soon, brother.”
Mitch’s death has been on all our minds, and clearly Blaze has done quite a bit of worrying.
“Or I yours,” I tell him. “When this job starts, I’ll be one-hundred percent with it, I promise you.”
“Good,” he says, and then we slip back into not talking as we watch the town.
Slowly, one by one, the houses start going dark. By four AM we might as well be staking out a real ghost town. I had planned to call Brenda once it got quiet and dark down there, but Blaze’s words sobered me up. He’s right. This job will take all the focus I can muster and more. Right now, Brenda’s soft skin, sweet, plump lips, and wicked eyes are taking up most of my mind. And that won’t do. It won’t do at all. Not when it comes time for the old kill or be killed.
And I want to live a long time yet. Not just for Brenda, for my brothers too.
Brenda
I walked less than ten minutes down the side of the dark, empty country road before I knew the truth of the receptionist lady’s words. The tall, shrubby bushes lining the road were black in the darkness, hissing and buzzing. The noise got louder the farther away from the motel and its light I got. I could smell green things, dust and asphalt cooling, but also a rot underneath and coupled with the sharp tang of rot underneath coupled with an eerie c
oldness the farther I walked made me turn and run back to the motel before I got anywhere near my destination.
I settled on a ramen noodle soup and a candy bar from the cafeteria for dinner, and neither of them sat well in my stomach. Images of the night I almost died under Crow’s knife flooded my mind and wouldn’t recede into the oblivion I’ve pushed them into.
I needed Colt then and I didn’t know it. I need him now and I do know it. I need him to kiss me and hold me and make love to me and let me know I’m worthy of living and loving. That I’m not just here on borrowed time, like I was with the Sinners for six months. Like I am now, after they tried to kill me.
But he’s not here, and he hasn’t called. I stayed awake until the sky outside turned a steely grey, afraid to close my eyes because every time I did the hissing of the grasses beyond the walls around the Sinners’ clubhouse filled my ears—the hissing of the grass growing on what was meant to be my grave.
I finally fell asleep at dawn, knowing that I can depend on no one but myself. I shouldn’t have forgotten that. It was so very pleasant to let go and just feel good for the last week or so. But where does that ever get me? Back to the same old place of torment and sadness and weakness I started from back when my mom started losing it and it was my job to put food on the table or else we starved.
It’s time I turned a new leaf, I think.
Waiting in beds for men to come and save me, to help me, has never worked out the way I hoped it would in the past. There’s absolutely no reason it will now. Whether Colt calls or comes to me, whether he takes me away, there is no reason to think it will all be better afterward. And there’s every reason to believe it will all be just like it’s always been. Something new and exciting, culminating in nothing.
18
Colt
The order came in a short text message in the darkest hours of the second night. Come down. Don’t be seen.
Nothing much could be seen as Blaze and I stumbled and tripped our way down the hill to the road that curves back around it to the spot where Ice dropped us off two nights ago. The bushes stubbornly growing on this hillside aren’t just thick, they’re thorny too. Some have thorns large and sharp enough to cut through jeans, I found out on more than one occasion. But lucky for us, the almost full moon was still in the sky, low by the horizon but still glowing bright enough to light our way at least a little bit.
A van was waiting for us in the darkness by the side of the road, Ice behind the wheel, Ace and Eagle already in there waiting for us. No one said anything as we climbed in the van, and slid the door shut as quietly as we could. Then we drove to pick up the other two pairs of watchers. Ice kept the lights off, and went slowly. He didn’t turn them on or speed up until we were at least four miles away from the hills, heading back to the bunker.
No one spoke.
I’m sitting beside the opening to the front cabin, watching the road ahead, my heart beating faster and faster as we approach the Lucky Star Motel. It’s so late that the streetlights are off, but the sign is shining bright, the Vacancy part flashing. In my mind, I can clearly see Brenda’s moonlit form sleeping on the bed and I want to lie down beside her so bad it’s hard to control it. I almost ask Ice to stop so I can go see her. It wouldn’t take long. Just long enough to kiss her a few times. A few thousand times wouldn’t be enough. Not with Brenda. A million wouldn’t come close.
The grip of madness that almost had me asking to stop is slow to fade as we ride on into the darkness away from the motel.
Blaze is staring at me very intently once I finally stop staring at the road ahead of us and turn back to face the others in the van. He knows what I was thinking, he always does, but luckily he doesn’t call me out on it right then and there.
Eagle is nodding off, his head hung forward, his hands locked together in his lap. Everyone else, including Blaze, is doing the same thing by the time we reach the bunker.
“Rise and shine,” Ice says as he opens the back door. “Cross wants to see you all right away.”
A part of my mind is still lying beside Brenda’s soft, moonlit body, falling asleep. Another part wants a shower and sleep in the narrow bunk I have here, and the part that’s alert enough to report to my president is very, very tiny.
As I follow the others into the brightly lit main room of the bunker, the light blinds me and sends a sharp pain across my forehead to my temples, waking me instantly. I’m even more awake after the walk to the room with the large table and photos we started this job on. It feels good to stretch my legs without worrying I’ll be seen.
The large room is even more brightly lit than the main one was. The table is completely covered by photos now, and Hawk and Cross are standing by the longer edge of it, studying the images. They look up as we enter.
At least fifty of the images are slightly fuzzy close-ups of men’s faces. A glance at them tells me they’re the guys I’ve been watching go about their business in the town for the past two days.
“We got your photos now we need your reports,” Cross says.
“How about you start, Ace,” he continues. “Did you see anyone you didn’t recognize as a Sinner?”
Ace shakes his head. “I saw all the ones I expected to see, but there were a few I’ve never seen before. I never got to meet the entire MC while I was with them. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help there. But I no one came or went through the main gate the whole time me and Eagle were watching it. We took turns sleeping to make sure. If they’re communicating with the outside, it’s by phone only.”
“And we saw no movement whatsoever on the hills around it. If anyone’s keeping watch over them, they’re as skilled at hiding as we are,” Eagle adds.
The rest of the pairs confirm this, as do me and Blaze. I spent a good amount of time scanning the surrounding area for other watchers, and I even spotted Eagle going for a piss a couple of times, but that’s not something I need to share right now.
“Almost no cars passed the road either,” Mac says. He and his partner were on the hill that had the best view of the road. “And there were no helicopters or anything like that flying over it.”
“I saw a guy on one of those glider things one afternoon, but I doubt the feds are using that method of surveillance,” Eagle says, earning a chuckle from a couple of the guys.
Cross asks each of us how many people we counted. It soon becomes apparent I’m the only one who actually counted them all with any type of accuracy.
“There’s sixty-two men, fifty women, fifteen of which are club whores and the rest wives or girlfriends. There are also twenty children, most of them young. The youngest is a baby,” I say.
Cross gives me an appreciative look. “How sure are you of these numbers?”
“I counted them so many times I can still see their faces when I close my eyes,” I say. “Stake-outs are boring.”
The moment the words are out of my mouth, I regret them. But that’s nothing new for me.
Blaze shoots me a warning look, but luckily Cross and Hawk both chuckle.
“Yeah, they are,” Cross says. “But I’m glad you made the most of your time on this one.”
“I can tell you where most of them live too. Like in which houses,” I add. “And their routines.”
I point at a photo of a guy in his early thirties that’s closest to me. “Like this one, for example, I’m pretty sure he’s in love with the redheaded club whore. He’s always watching her and accompanies her wherever she’s going when she leaves the bar. Which is this building.”
I point it out in one of the pictures.
“And this is the house where all the club girls live,” I point at a two-story house at one end of the main street. “About five of the guys spent every night in there with them. This one, that one, those two and the guy who has the hots for the redhead,” I conclude, pointing them out in the photos.
The room is very silent when I stop talking, so silent I can hear the echo of my words.
Cross is looking
at me very intently. “Good work, Colt. That’s very detailed stake-out work.”
I shrug, not comfortable being the center of attention like this. Which I am. Everyone is staring at me like they’ve never seen me before.
“I have a good memory for faces,” I mutter.
“Clearly,” Hawk says with a grin. “Show me where the rest of them live.”
He’s holding a magic marker and steps aside so I can come to stand beside him and Cross to where the photos are visible right way up. The entire town is very accurately recreated in photos on the table, and it actually turns out better if I’m standing at the side, looking at it the way I saw it from the hill me and Blaze were on.
Hawk marks each face with a number and writes that same number on the house I point out as being the one the man lives in. There’s only five that I’m not sure about, but the rest of the guys confirm my best guesses.
“And Snake, the guy with the ponytail, he lives in the big house alone,” I say. “Two club girls spent the night there last night, the redhead and the one with the really short white hair. The guy who’s in love with the redhead wasn’t too happy with that. He paced around the bottom of that hill the big house is on for a good two hours waiting for her then went back to the whorehouse alone.”
“That is some very solid info,” Hawk says appreciatively. “You can go on every stake-out from now on.”
I almost say, Please, no, but manage to bite my tongue just in time before I blurt it out.
“Now, if we could only be sure that it’s only Sinners and their hangers-on down there, we could finish this job and go home,” Hawk says.
“Yeah, I wish I could be of more help there,” Ace says. “But I never got to meet all of them.”
“Brenda knows them all,” I say. “I could take her the photos and she could say if any one of them doesn’t belong.”
I came up with this idea the moment Ace wasn’t able to recognize all the men in the photos. And I’m hella proud of myself for waiting this long to bring it up.