by Naomi West
I expect a whole fleet to come riding in for the trade, but two men drive up to the truck in a rundown car. They’re Mexicans wearing suits. The man in charge has a fat belly bulging out of his shirt and a bad combover. The other one looks like a trained killer. He holds himself like a soldier. He’s got two pistols and a shotgun slung over his back, as well as another pistol hidden in his sock. I can just about make out the outline.
The Mexican in charge waves his hands at Hatter. Hatter waves his arms back.
“Reckon they’re arguing about the truck?”
“Maybe,” I mutter. “Might’ve thought they were switching, eh? That piece of shit car isn’t gonna be much good for all those guns.”
“Yeah.”
We keep watching, waiting for the right moment. Too many of the men are out of sight right now. Some of them are even inside the warehouse. We’ll catch them once the deal is over. When they’re packing away, we’ll move in and end them.
“Boulder’s good with that,” Jax says after getting off the walkie. “This is it, Cage. We’ll end these bastards and that’ll—”
Suddenly, Arvin takes out his pistol and shoots both the Mexicans in the head. It’s the quickest shooting I’ve ever seen. It’s like something out of a Western. Once I read one where the fella writing it called a gunman faster than wind. That’s what this is like. One second they’re arguing, and the next the men are dead, lying flat on their backs. Even the trained killer falls quickly, reaching for his gun. Birds flock from the trees. The shots ring out all around us.
“Damn,” Jax mutters. “You see that shit?”
“Impressive, eh? Let’s see how quick he is at more’n five yards.”
Jax laughs grimly. “Yeah, the prick.”
Arvin has his men load the crates back onto the truck. A few men go over to the bodies, searching them. Then they carry them into the trees and dump them.
“Ready?” Boulder’s voice is quiet on the walkie.
“Yeah,” Jax replies. “On our shot.”
“Don’t miss, little brother.”
“Fuck you, damn.” He glances at me. “Pick your targets, Cage. I don’t want any cross-shooting.”
“Do I look like a fuckin’ schoolgirl to you? I’ll take the—”
Something spooks the Talons. One second, they’re unloading crates. The next, they’re all aiming into the forest, spinning in circles. I crouch down even lower. But I’ve got no damn clue how they could see us. We’re well-hidden.
“What the fuck?” Jax whispers.
“What’s wrong?” Boulder snaps on the radio.
“Pick your targets, Cage. Quick, man. Dammit.”
“I can’t,” I admit when I see her.
It’s like the ground splits apart and swallows me. For the first time I can remember, I’m frozen on a job.
Scarlett crouches down in the trees with her fucking notebook in her hand, scribbling. She doesn’t even realize something’s wrong until two Talons come running through the forest right at her. She tries to run. They catch her easily, grabbing her by each arm and hauling her out into the open. She kicks and screams. The sound is the worst I can imagine.
“Cage, the fuck’re you doing?” Jax snaps.
I ignore him. “Don’t shoot,” I say into the walkie. “I’m going down.”
“What?” Boulder snaps. “Cage, stay the fuck down. That’s an order.”
“I’m sorry, boss. But I can’t let them hurt her.”
I pick my way down the forest with hands over my head.
9
Cage
Arvin Hatter turns to me when I walk from the forest. About fifteen guns turn to me, too. I ignore them and look at Scarlett. They have her pushed up against the side of the truck, arms pinned. She’s not kicking anymore. She’s panting heavily from where one of the bastards punched her in the belly.
When he makes to punch her again, I growl, “I’ll break your fuckin’ neck. You hear me? I’ll end you. Let her go.”
Arvin studies me as some of the fellas laugh. The man holding Scarlett looks to him for orders. He’s a dumb-looking fuck with a ratty face. His beard is a mess of pubes poking from his chin. He’s exactly the sort of prick we wouldn’t patch, I reckon. Arvin seems to see something in me that makes him happy. The bastard smiles widely.
“Don’t hit her again, Uncle. Just hold her steady. Don’t you know who this is? It’s the famous Cage Morrow.”
“I thought he’d be bigger,” Uncle snarls.
“People are never as big as folk expect them to be.” He has a heavy Texan accent, making some of his words difficult to understand. He hooks his thumbs through his jean loops and swaggers over to me. “How many guns’ve you got on you, Cage Morrow?”
“Why the fuck would I tell you that?” I snap, eyes locked on Scarlett. She looks at me in desperation, mouth hanging open. There are tears in her eyes. I want to roar at her. It’s no good looking desperate now.
What a goddamn mess.
Arvin laughs easily. “If you don’t, one of my men might do something stupid.”
“I wouldn’t recommend that, Hatter. We’re not alone here.”
He glances around the forest. “Ah,” he says. “I see. I reckon God really is watching over me. Fellas, we just escaped a slaughter!”
“For now.”
“For now,” Hatter agrees. “Who’s this slit then, your old lady?”
Scarlett’s wearing a hoodie and hiking trousers, with thick heavy boots. Her hair is tied into a ponytail making her face look sharp and sexy and amazing and, dammit … dammit, what the hell is she doing here?
“Yeah,” I say. “That’s my old lady.”
He’s way more likely to keep her alive that way. If she’s just another woman, he’ll have no problem killing her. Maybe he won’t have a problem killing her anyway. But I have to try, at least.
“What’s her name, Cage Morrow?”
“The fuck you need to know that for?”
“Fair enough. What’s she doing here, then? I knew you motherfuckers were weak, but bringing a lady on a job?” The men laugh again. I want to snap their necks one by one.
“I didn’t bring her,” I tell him. “She’s not part of this.”
“Then why is she here?”
“I’m a journalist,” Scarlett says. She sounds way stronger than she looks right now. Her voice doesn’t tremble like her body does. “I’m here for a story.”
I bite down, so angry I could punch myself in the jaw and not feel a thing. “Be quiet!” I growl at her. “Let me do the talking, dammit.”
“A journalist? Why would the great Cage Morrow take a journalist as his old lady?”
“Who gives a shit? You don’t need her, Hatter. The fuck is she worth to you, some civilian? Let her go’n you can keep me.”
Hatter looks around, hands raised. He then counts the guns pointed at me, turning with a shit-eating sneer on his face. “I don’t see that you’re in a position to negotiate. Even if you’ve got killers hiding in the forest, they won’t do shit with you down here. I’ve heard stories about you, Morrow. Some fellas say you’re a demon. You fight like a wolf, anyway. Who said that, Uncle?”
“Don’t know, boss. But it’s true. You see what he did down at the warehouse?”
“And at the bar?”
“And at the strip club?”
“Wow.” Hatter grins widely at me. “For a wolf, you sure did come down here like a scared puppy.”
More laughter from his men.
“I don’t give a damn about any of that. Just let her go’n we can do this like men. You know what my president’ll pay for me, Hatter. You know what I’m worth. They won’t pay a damn thing for her.”
“Maybe not,” he agrees. “But there’s a reason the Talons are the deadliest club in this great United States of America. Yes, sir. Do you wanna guess the reason, Morrow?” He taps the side of his head. “Me.” He smiles. “You might be a wolf, and I reckon there’s some pride in that. But I’m more
than a wolf. I’m a leader. And a leader has to see shit. See shit like how much you care about that lady. It’s written on your face. I can read it. I can see right into your soul, Morrow.”
“The fuck is this, poetry? The fuck are we talkin’ about?”
“You’re a dangerous man,” Hatter says, unfazed. “If I take you and leave the girl, you might try’n escape. I can’t have that. I’ve heard what you’re capable of. But if we have the girl as well? How reckless will you be then, eh?” His smile gets wider. The prick. He knows he’s got me.
Suddenly, he turns to the wide forest. He spreads his hands high over his head as though welcoming a bullet. “I’m taking Morrow and the girl!” he roars. “If anyone’s got a problem with that, start shooting! But be careful, fellas! You might catch your man with a stray!” He waits for several long minutes.
Finally, Boulder shouts down, “One-hundred thousand’n you let him go!”
“And the girl, boss!” I shout. “I’ll pay another one hundred outta my own pocket, Hatter.”
“No deal!” Hatter calls, ignoring me. “I’m taking him. The end. So either start shooting, or shut the fuck up!”
He waits again. Nobody fires a shot. It’s not surprising. There’s no way Boulder’s going to risk hitting a brother.
“All right.” Hatter claps his hands together. “Get the prizes into the truck, fellas. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.” He turns back to the forest. “Follow us and Morrow dies!”
Two fellas pat me down and take my pistol. Then they push me toward the back of the truck. I want more than anything to smash their faces in, guns be damned. But I can’t with Scarlett here. If they hurt her … I wonder when I started to care about her this much. I wonder if I ever would’ve discovered how much I care if she hadn’t put herself in this stupid position. And I wonder if this is it, the end of the road. That time comes for all outlaws. But for a lady, too? Goddamn.
The men push me and Scarlett right to the back of the truck. They push us down between two crates and handcuff us to each other, and then chain the cuffs around a solid steel bar. When they leave us, I try to pull on it but it’s solid. I try to pick the locks, but I’ve got nothing to pick it with. I try to break the chain. It’s unbreakable.
I turn to Scarlett just as the truck backs up.
“What the fuck?” I growl, keeping my voice low. “Have you got a damn death wish, Scarlett? What’re you doing here? How’d you even know about this?”
She tells me a note fell out of my pocket during our date.
“I know you must be angry.”
If she was a man, I reckon I’d hit her. I reckon I’d grab her by the neck and shove her up against the wall. But I’m not going to do that, obviously. My jaw aches from clenching it so hard. The truck moves slowly at first, but soonm the speed picks up. I wonder if the fellas are following us. If they arem they better do it carefully. I don’t doubt that Hatter will follow through on his threat. And then what? Scarlett will be left alone with a bunch of psychopathic killers.
“Angry?” I bark at her after a pause. “You don’t know a damn thing about this life. You’re just a girl. Green as they fuckin’ come. What did you think was gonna happen? You’d lie in the grass with your little notebook and everything’d just be fine? Fuckin’ hell, Scarlett. You don’t know what this could mean.”
“They could kill you and gang rape me,” she hisses. “Is that about the size of it? I’m not a girl, Cage. I’m not a child.”
“Then stop acting like one!” I snap. “You wanna play at being a reporter? Fine. Go’n find the world’s biggest pumpkin at Halloween. Go to a dog show. I don’t give a damn. But don’t come into my business and fuckin’ screw everything up. This isn’t just about us. These men traffic in women. They get them hooked on drugs. One girl was fourteen, Scarlett. Fourteen. And we could’ve ended them right fuckin’ now. Could’ve ended it all.”
I clench my fists. I can’t even look at her. It just makes me want to shout. And if I shout, they might stop the truck and gag us, maybe do worse.
“Okay!” Scarlett cries. “I get it! Do you think I wanted to be caught?”
“That’s not the damn point. They could’ve killed you. Could’ve shot you dead as soon as they saw you. They could’ve …” My hands are shaking. My whole body is shaking. At first, I think it’s just the rocking of the truck, but it’s not. I feel like slamming my head against the wall. I feel like breaking the whole damn world.
“Look at me, Cage,” she whispers sometime later.
I don’t. I just stare down at my scarred knuckles.
“I didn’t …” She sighs. “I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry, okay? I am, I really am. But this is part of the job—”
“What job? What place does a lady have here? This is work for bloody men, that’s it. No ladies. No civilians. You make a pact when you enter this life; every man does. He’ll give up his protection from the law. That’s what it means to be an outlaw. And it means you’ve gotta be tough. You’ve gotta be able to fight, to kill. To die if you have to. A civilian doesn’t know shit about it. It’s no place for ladies like you.”
“And what sort of lady is that?”
“Beautiful, fragile. Fuckin’ … delicate, I don’t know. You ought to be someplace safe, someplace warm.”
“It’s pretty warm in here.” She giggles shakily. “Isn’t it?”
I glance at her. Unwillingly, I smile. I kill it a moment later. “This isn’t a joke.”
“I know it’s not,” she mutters. “Just tell me what to do. What’s the plan? I can help. Just tell me …”
“Don’t do a damn thing,” I tell her. “That’s what. That’s how you can help. We’re not doing shit from here. We need to wait’n see where they take us. Maybe then …” I shrug. “It doesn’t look good, though. I reckon chances are we’ll …” I trail off, looking at her again. At her near-white eyes. Her high cheekbones and her perfect lips. I can’t tell her about the chances. I have to protect her.
“How hard did that prick hit you, Scarlett?”
“Pretty hard,” she whispers.
“How’s it feel?”
“Numb, painful. Both.”
“Yeah, let me get a look.”
She lifts her shirt. I study the bruise, pale yellow. I feel for any broken ribs. Luckily, there aren’t any.
“There’ll be a nasty bruise, but you’ll be all right.”
“Okay, Cage.”
I reckon she wants me to hold her, to give her some words of comfort.
But right now, I just don’t have it in me.
10
Scarlett
We sit in silence for the rest of the trip. Part of me wants to apologize to Cage again. But I sense that it won’t do much good. Words aren’t worth much in these sorts of situations. Even if I say sorry over and over for the rest of our lives, it won’t make a difference. We’ll still be sitting in the back of this truck. We’ll still be on our way to who-knows-where. The truck stops after a long time. I’m not sure how long, exactly.
“Don’t say anything,” Cage whispers. “Just let me do the talking, if there’s any to be done. We don’t wanna give these bastards any reason to dislike you.”
“Don’t they already dislike me?” I cringe when I hear my voice. Small, shaky. It’s because I can hear them. A bunch of men approaching the back of the truck. Cage is right, I realize. They really can do anything they want to me right now. And there’s no way for us to stop them. Not even Cage can protect me if they decide they want to get really nasty.
“It’s okay,” Cage says. He touches my hand. I can tell it takes a lot of effort to make the gesture. I squeeze his in return. “Don’t worry, all right? It’ll all be okay.”
“You don’t believe that,” I whisper.
He doesn’t reply. He just stares into nothing with hate in his face.
When the truck door is open, two men walk past the crates over to us. They’ve got guns in one hand and strips of cloth in th
e other. Blindfolds, it turns out. They uncuff us and stand us up. I follow Cage’s lead. I’m glad he’s here. If he wasn’t, I’m not sure how I would deal with this. They wrap the blindfolds around our heads and drag us from the truck. I try to walk steadily, but it’s difficult. I’m painfully aware that these could be the last few moments of my life, right here. This is it. Maybe Cage was right. Maybe I should have just remained a lady.
But what if they hadn’t caught me? Would I be thinking like this?
Gruff hands push me. More gruff hands catch me, put me on the ground. A light wind touches us. I can tell it’s sunny by the heat on my face. Distantly, a bird screams into the sky. But other than that, we could be anywhere. I have no idea. They lead us into a building, down a corridor, down another corridor, into what feels like a big room and eventually to a smaller, ice-cold room.
When they take the handcuffs off, I see that we’re in a refrigerator. The guards laugh at us and slam the door, leaving us with only a dim light at the back. My breath frosts in the air.
“Fuckin’ bastards!” Cage growls. “Reckon this’ll weaken us up, eh?”
I stand near the door with my hands tucked under my armpits. I’m glad I’m wearing a sweater, but even so it doesn’t fight off the cold. It gets in between my eyelids, it feels like. It gets into my bones.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
He’s walking around the room, checking the shelves, poking around near the walls.
“Checking for surveillance,” he says, not looking at me.
I go to the far end of the refrigerator. There’s nothing in here except for the metal shelves, the dim light, and the humming of the unit. I sit down and bring my knees to my chest. Tuck my hands under my legs and squeeze them tight. I move my chin so it’s buried in the folds of my sweater. Cage takes a long time going around the room, searching everything inch by inch. About half an hour later, he walks over to me.
“Looks like we’re alone,” he says.
“Nobody’s watching?”