by Paula Cox
The vulnerable part in her heart grew again, and she had to look away from him to avoid a blush setting her cheeks alight. He pulled her back down, and she nestled her head into the crook of his shoulder. They slept this way. It was the first time they had ever literally slept together since the moment they met.
Natasha could not help but feel the fear begin to creep in at the notion of what tomorrow would bring, but as he lay next to her, his deep even breathing matching her own, she realized it was a future she could face.
***
The next morning, Griffin gave her a gun.
“I don’t need that,” she said, moving away from it as though it were some sort of poisonous insect.
It had been a perfectly lovely morning. The two lovers had woken up and looked at each other as though surprised to still be together. Golden Texas light streamed in through the window, pooling across the sheets that wrapped the two of them up. They made love again in the morning light, and this time it was intense, as though saying good-bye, even though neither of them wanted to say it out loud. Natasha did not want to be nervous about it; she definitely did not want to express that anyway. When they had finished, Griffin had taken a quick shower and then immediately presented her with the gun.
“You do need it,” he insisted. “We’re going in on a reckless mission; I don’t want to have to worry about you while I am out there.”
“You won’t have to,” she replied.
“I know I won’t, because I am giving you a gun.”
Natasha was not a stranger to guns, of course she wasn’t; she lived in Texas. She had gone to the firing range to learn how to protect herself the day she turned eighteen, so she had some idea of how to use one. It was a small thing, unassuming, and so much heavier than it looked as she picked it up. The weight of it made the danger a lot more real to her, which was saying something given the state of the last few days she’d had.
“It is just admitting that something wrong might happen,” Natasha said. She did not give him the gun back, but instead walked to put it on the nightstand. Maybe she would feel better if she had something close at hand to protect herself even if she knew that it was unlikely that anyone would go after her.
“It is just being prepared, Natasha. Trust me, I don’t want anything to happen to you either, but I’ll feel better knowing that you are protected just in case.”
She nodded, accepting it, and visible relief flooded Griffin’s face. He went to Natasha’s side, taking her into his arms and holding her close.
“You better be careful,” she whispered fervently into his chest. “Or I swear to God I will call the cops if you don’t come back.”
“The cops won’t touch us here,” Griffin said, although he knew it was not the most helpful thing to say in that situation. He also was not going to beat around the bush with this sort of thing.
She knew in her heart that it was the case and wrapped her arms tighter around him before letting him go.
“I’ll be careful,” he said.
“That’s all I can ask for,” she replied.
She wanted to feel better about all of this; she wanted to feel strong as Griffin pulled her close and gave her a kiss before heading out on a potentially dangerous mission. The only thing she felt was worry, and as she sat on the bed and looked over that the gun, she prayed that she would never have to use it.
Chapter 19
When Griffin arrived at the clubhouse, tensions were high. Damon had hand-picked about twenty guys for the mission, and as Griffin sized him up, he decided that they were all pretty decent men for the job. There was, of course, Julian, a man he worked with for about five years now. Julian was probably one of the most stone-cold men Griffin had ever had the pleasure of working with. Even though he was a gentle giant outside of work, Griffin knew that he was completely unflappable. Once when they were running guns by the border, things had gotten a little tense between the club and a Mexican cartel. Griffin was fully prepared to draw his gun and end things right then until Julian took a step forward and stared down the biggest and scariest guy there. It did not take long after that for things to get settled, so if Julian was on the job with him, Griffin knew that things were going to be okay.
Ever since Julian had had his back at the Tumbleweed, the man had been walking around as though he had some sort of hilarious secret he needed to tell Griffin. It was almost driving Griffin crazy, but they hadn’t found the time to talk about it just yet.
There were a few dodgy ones too, like Bombay and Big Mack. Bombay had a bit of a cocaine problem and was a little too quick on the trigger. Perhaps for a scenario like this it was necessary, but Griffin was not fully sure if he wanted Bombay to be at his back. Big Mack had the opposite problem, when shit hit the fan he was usually one to hesitate. In this scenario, Griffin supposed that the only person who really would get screwed over by that would be Big Mack himself, and that was not going to be Griffin’s problem unless he let it.
There were no games being played on the pool table now, and instead an informal gun show had been set up there. Several of the men were mulling over their weapon choices, trying to decide between hand guns or shotguns. Griffin already knew that he was going to carry both. It was better to be over-prepared than under-prepared in his mind.
Although everything was tense, lighthearted banter flowed through the room. It was not as though this was anyone’s first rodeo—although a raid of this magnitude was very much unprecedented. Griffin did not mind that so much; he just liked to keep his eye on the prize when it came to that sort of thing. He had to do it for Emanuel.
Of course, he was not only doing it for Emanuel, was he? Natasha was also in danger thanks to these assholes, and she more than deserved to be protected, too. He hated the idea of her being alone and vulnerable while he did this, but the sooner it happened the sooner he could get back to her.
“Hey Griffin,” Julian said, as Griffin approached the table to pick out his guns. “We’re finally getting those bastards, eh?”
Griffin nodded. “It is about time,” he replied.
“Damn right.”
Bombay picked up a pistol with a shaking hand and gave it a once over. Bombay was never really good at actually checking his guns, but he grabbed a second one just in case, and it was not as though two of them would jam. Big Mack opted for a shotgun.
Once the weapons were picked out, the bandannas were passed out. These were going to be worn over the face and nose, just like the cowboys Griffin always thought they were. It was not as though they wanted to go in disguise; the Los Diablos were going to absolutely know what hit them.
“You scared, Griffin?” Bombay asked suddenly.
Griffin just shrugged. “Why would I be? I’ve been dreaming about doing this since they got Manny.”
It was a lie, but a lie mixed with the truth, which made it easier to tell. Sure, he had wanted to take revenge out on those assholes, the Los Diablos, ever since they hit Emanuel and Emanuel hit the ground. He just was not fully sure about the plan itself. It did not matter given the fact that it was passed at a vote, but the pit in his stomach that had started when Emanuel died kept getting bigger the more he thought about it, and Damon’ strange behavior about Griffin’s growing relationship with Natasha was beginning to give him pause.
However, he could not show that face to the guys, especially not before the big mission. Instead, he just put on a smiling face and joked with the best of them. The frat boy vibe of the entire place helped to put Griffin at ease, and he could only hope that Natasha was not worrying too much.
Fully armed and ready, the group of Disciples went outside to where their bikes were waiting. It was a nearly comical sight, twenty motorcycles all lined up and waiting for their riders, who were joking, throwing fake punches, and giving everyone a general sense of hell. It was good for the men, good for morale, and it all felt like family to Griffin.
The chorus of revving engines filled the air. Griffin relished the feeling of his moto
rcycle between his legs, remembering all over again how he had Natasha on his bike and the feel of her pressed against his chest as he rode. It definitely was a feeling like no other, and he could not wait to feel it again.
Now, he had more important things to focus on, and with a whoop to his men, he revved his engine and took off towards the promise of vengeance.
Chapter 20
“What do you mean you are probably not coming back this semester?” Shelly’s voice was hundreds of miles away and yet Natasha could still hear the judgement. She sighed deeply at her friend’s dismay, wishing she could tell her everything that was going on but knowing that she could not.
“Something’s just come up,” Natasha decided to say instead. “Something with my father’s estate.”
“Finals are in two weeks,” Shelly said in horror. “You are going to miss finals!?”
“My father died,” Natasha replied defensively. “I think I am allowed to take a little time to myself.”
“You barely even mentioned your father!” She could hear Shelly pacing in the two-bedroom, off-campus apartment they shared. She was probably in her silly University of Texas sweatshirt and sweatpants, already getting ready to study and graduate.
All of that seemed so distant to Natasha now, but thinking about it on a deeper level, she realized that most of her life she had really just been playing the part she thought that others expected her to play. Her mother had been terrified from the moment Natasha had become a teenager that she might run off and join the motorcycle club in order to be more like her daddy, or worse, her mother feared that she would fall in love with some biker outlaw and run off by herself. Natasha had thought that it was ridiculous at the time. She could still remember the haggard look on that woman’s face the day Natasha stood in her father’s kitchen after running away to see him. She never wanted to look that broken.
Of course everything had gone and complicated itself when Griffin had walked into her life, could she admit that to Shelly?
“Well,” she whispered into the phone, “I also kind of met someone.”
There was a long pause on the other end as Shelly digested the information. It was clear that she was incredibly shocked, and Natasha felt compelled to continue to say something, anything, in the hope of getting Shelly to respond. Instead, she sat there, listening to the stunned silence on the other line, and held her breath.
“Wow, you work fast,” Shelly said finally.
It was not as though Shelly had not seen Natasha with a man before. She had had a rather annoying and yet completely well-meaning boyfriend during their junior year, until Natasha had broken up with him because she simply could not see them together after graduation, so she didn’t see the need to keep going. He had been upset, of course, but since their connection had never really been that tight in the first place, they had managed to move on with very little heartbreak. Maybe Shelly could hear the difference between that old boyfriend and her new lover just by the tremor in Natasha’s voice. She did not know. All she knew was that she could not stop herself from smiling as she mentioned Griffin’s name. It was definitely a big problem, given the fact that he was out somewhere right at that moment getting revenge for Natasha’s father’s murder.
“I mean, it just happened.”
“What is he, a local boy?”
Natasha mouthed the word “local boy” with an internal eye roll. “He’s from my hometown, yes, but I did not know him when I lived here.”
“Oooh, so what’s his name?”
Even though Natasha had brought it up herself, she did not really want to talk about Griffin anymore, suddenly feeling possessive about her strange and exciting new thing.
“Griffin.”
“Griffin?”
“Yes, Griffin.”
“That’s not even a name; that’s an animal. What’s his last name?”
Natasha’s mouth went dry. “Um.”
“Oh my god, you don’t know it?”
Natasha laughed a little bit, “No, I never got around to asking.”
“Oh my God, Natasha!”
When faced with her college roommate’s horror, the situation did seem to come into terrible focus just then. Then again, it was not as though she was telling Shelly the entire truth, and she knew that she could not, just in case Shelly called the police and ruined everything. Instead, Natasha put on a girlish giggle at the scandal of her love affair in order to hide the rather unsettling truth.
“I know, but he’s so hot.”
“Girl, I need details.”
So Natasha gave them, obviously doctored of course, but she found that she liked having the opportunity to gab about a boy that she was sort of seeing, even if she had to leave out the fact that he saved her life the first day that they had met, that he was an incredibly dangerous outlaw biker currently out on a mission to avenge her own father’s death, and also that little bit of knowledge that he desperately wanted her to join the club and therefore declare herself his permanent property. Those things she kept to herself, mostly because they seemed so hard to believe.
Shelly listened happily, oohing and ahhing at all the right points, but Natasha knew that she could not stay on the phone forever. She liked the distraction; she liked the lie. However, she heard Shelly yawn theatrically and explain that she had to get back to studying. Almost tearfully, Natasha said her good-byes.
“Promise me that you’ll come back to school soon?” Shelly asked as they were about to hang out.
“I’ll try my best, but I can’t promise anything,” Natasha replied, and she meant it.
Now alone, she tried to watch TV, but nothing really seemed to catch her attention for long. She could feel the fear in her chest and was surprised at how insistent it was. She could not help but think about all the ways things could go wrong; it plagued her. She thought briefly about ordering food, but the idea of drawing attention to herself made her change her mind. Instead, she paced back and forth throughout her tiny motel room, trying to ignore the gun that sat on her nightstand. She could not stop thinking about Griffin.
She could picture him busting in through the door of the Los Diablos’ clubhouse, guns blazing and looking so very strong. She could not help but picture something going wrong, him tripping or taking a bullet to the knee. She could imagine so very clearly in her head him falling to the ground, a man coming up behind him to press a gun to his head.
She could not bring herself to imagine the rest of that scenario.
What if the cops somehow showed up? What if they were tipped off somehow, and the Disciples were caught in the middle of the raid? What if Griffin ended up in prison for a long time, but the Los Diablos still went free? They would be apart, and yet, Natasha would most likely still be in danger. She could picture Griffin’s face lit with red and blue lights. It terrified her almost worse than his death did.
After that, her mind became a carnival of horrors, picturing one horrible scenario after the other. What if they captured him and tortured him for some sort of information, or just for the hell of it? What if he was shot, survived, but was paralyzed for the rest of his life? Could Griffin handle that sort of thing? It was terrible to think about, but Natasha was not so sure. She kept pacing, the scenarios kept coming, and soon she was half-tempted to walk out and find this clubhouse on her own, fully ready to save Griffin herself.
As brave as she felt, she knew that she could never actually do it. She may have been decent on a motorcycle and knew how to point and shoot a gun, but she was definitely not a professional.
It was strange to her how easily she had accepted Griffin’s life as an outlaw. Perhaps her father’s influence ran deeper than she had originally thought, but either way, she leaned into it so readily that it scared her. What happened to her plans to become a social worker? Already she was thinking just like them, part of her felt completely comfortable doing it, the other part of her was terrified by what it all meant.
She heard the roar of an engine stop in the parki
ng lot below. Peeking out of the window, she only saw a flash of dark hair, a muscular build. Maybe it was not for her, maybe she should just calm down. However, her heart began to race, as she heard footsteps heading towards her door.
“Griffin?” she called, knowing that the walls were thin enough that her voice would carry. It was an idiotic thing to do, because what if the intruder was not Griffin? She just gave her position away. Cursing to herself, she ran to the nightstand and grabbed the gun. It felt heavy and alien in her hands, but holding it at least made her feel a little safer. There was a distinct possibility that it was Griffin, that the job had already been run, or maybe he just did not want to do it after all given how ridiculous the plan was, but dread began to blossom in her heart as the figure stopped at her door. There was the distinct picking sound that made Natasha realize that the lock was being picked, and the fact that it was not Griffin was becoming clearer and clearer.