by Amity Cross
It was late afternoon by the time we rolled into the Fortitude compound. Gasket was waiting for us in the garage, and the roller door rose as we turned into the driveway. Driving into the safety of the shop, our engines fell into silence as he closed us inside.
Jumping off my bike, I smacked my ass, trying to get the feeling back into both cheeks. Luckily, I had taut thigh muscles from all that leg spreading with Chaser. Otherwise, I would have been sore for days after that marathon. Finally, I patted my windblown cheeks and hoped someone had left some moisturizer behind because something told me a bunch of burly bikers wasn’t that interested in skin care.
“I led them right to you,” Gasket said, looking pissed. “If I’d known, I would never have come out there.”
“Shit happens,” Chaser replied, shucking off his duffel bag. “You didn’t know. We got out, so there’s no use getting pissed about it.”
“Bested by Rocket.” Gasket scratched his beard, looking sheepish. “I never thought I’d see the day.”
I let my own bag fall to the floor and rolled my shoulders. “We’re not exactly on Spring Break. This whole thing has been one mess up after the next. I’m a wanted criminal, so a shootout is nothing.” Gasket opened his mouth, and I held up a hand. “Nuh-uh, don’t even say it. Believe me, I know.”
“I was going to say nice motorcycle, kid.”
“Nice save.” I winked.
“Let’s talk about this later,” Chaser stated. “We’ve gotta clean up, but we can’t hole up here forever.”
“The renegades are working with those Hollow Men fuckers,” Gasket drawled. “Your fight is our fight now. Those assholes made it personal.”
My stomach growled, breaking the rising anger in the garage, and I slapped a hand over my gut.
“You want something to eat, kid?” Gasket asked, glancing at Chaser. “We’ve got a new cook.”
Chaser’s expression contorted into annoyance, and he began walking toward the compound.
“Where are you going?” the old biker called out.
“I owe Monroe a punch in the face,” Chaser replied, not breaking stride.
Gasket raised his eyebrows, looking at me expectantly.
“He gave us useless information in exchange for all this,” I explained. “A black eye is the least of that guy’s worries.”
“Well, he better not hit him too hard because the old fucker makes a mean gumbo.”
“Is that all you can think of?” I retorted as we followed Chaser inside.
Gasket took the duffel bags and threw them over his shoulder. “As I see it, Monroe is a washed-up old man, whose life was one step away from bankruptcy. Can’t blame him for wanting to cash in rather than end up sleeping under a bridge someplace. Maybe he really did believe his information was good, or maybe he played Chaser from the beginning. Either way, he’s going to fit right in around here.”
The compound was rather empty as we made our way to the kitchens. With half the club gone and the women and kids off in San Francisco, it was deathly quiet. Not the greatest choice of words, but the closer we go to our destination, the noisier it became.
“I swear, I thought it was good!” an unknown voice shouted.
I glanced at Gasket as we stepped into the kitchen, but the old biker was grinning at the scene before us.
Chaser had a pudgy African-American man up against the wall, his hands fisted into a greasy apron that covered a sizeable potbelly. I assumed this was the mysterious Monroe. I sniffed the air and let out a humph. Something was cooking, and it smelled really good.
“Nothing like a little tussle to grease the wheels,” Gasket said in amusement.
“I don’t appreciate being played,” Chaser said, snarling. “Especially when the life of the women I fucking love is at stake.”
Gasket threw me a look. “He said that?”
“It’s a Christmas miracle,” I replied. “You really going to let Chaser punch the guy?”
Gasket shrugged. “Men like to work things out with their fists.”
I rolled my eyes and strode forward. I’d seen enough violence to last me a lifetime, a great deal of it happening that morning. Monroe looked as threatening as a kitten in a basket of cotton buds.
“Chaser,” I said, standing beside the two men. “Let him go.”
Chaser’s lip curled.
“Don’t be a bully,” I said with a pout. “Because if this guy screws with us again, I’ll blow his balls off with a shotgun.” I directed my gaze to Monroe, who began shaking like a leaf. “I’m Sloane, by the way. Aka, the woman he loves.”
Behind us, Gasket started to laugh, the sound echoing around the kitchen. “She’ll do it, you know.”
I slapped my hand on Chaser’s shoulder. “The guy’s been sufficiently scared to hell and back. You can let him go now.”
He glanced at me and let Monroe go, taking a few steps back.
We stood there in silence for a moment until things began to get a little awkward. The guy sure knew how to keep his mouth shut, which was a good start. The second item on the action list was food.
“So…” I craned my neck to see what was cooking in the pot on the stove. “Where’s this gumbo Gasket wants to marry?”
I opened the door to my bedroom and breathed in the unfamiliar scent. Why was it that after so long away, a place that had become familiar felt so alien when you went back to it?
Stepping inside, I guessed I was just thankful for a place to rest that didn’t include looking over my shoulder. It had been a long time since I felt completely safe somewhere. It was the ultimate irony that it was the Fortitude compound.
“I never thought I’d be back here,” I said, looking around. “At least, not this soon.”
“We know this place,” Chaser said, sliding his hand over the small of my back. “We can defend it if we need to.”
“Hopefully, it won’t come to that.” I turned and curled my fingers into his shirt. “We better take the fight to them.”
“King will be expecting it.”
“I know, but we can’t wait for them to come looking. We won’t win that parade.” All of the Hollow Men’s resources, paired with the Hollow Riders, against forty bikers looking to get on the straight and narrow? Yeah, no chance.
I shook my head at the memory of King’s presence. He’d been overwhelming, controlling, and slightly insane. Killing him would be an honor. Not only that—it would be my civic duty as a member of the female race.
“So,” I went on. “What was that ten days thing? You never got a chance to tell me about it. I’m still curious.”
Chaser shrugged. “It was the plan I was going to follow when I was undercover. Before they…” He coughed and made a face. “I knew things were getting dicey, so I made provisions.”
“You can talk about her, you know,” I said. “All that stuff I said…” I felt my cheeks heat, and I lowered my head. “That was just my insecurities talking. I mean, I’ve never had this before. I was afraid it would never be like…”
“Shh,” he murmured. “We worked that out.”
I nodded. “Shit, I’m embarrassed.”
“Don’t be.”
I looked up at him and smiled. “When did you get so…soft?”
He made a face and tugged me close. “Don’t say that word out loud.”
“Soft,” I declared. “Soft, soft, soft.”
“I’d rather be hard.”
“Typical.”
Turning, I set my bag on the end of my bed and dusted off the front of my T-shirt.
“You’re very happy,” Chaser declared. “After this morning, I was expecting to have a fight with a wildcat.”
“Ironically, I feel safe here despite the memories.”
“The air is different.” He glanced around, taking in the room.
“Maybe staying here wouldn’t be such a bad idea,” I murmured.
“What about Montana?”
I shrugged. “When I think about the people here, the ones lef
t behind…” I sighed and thought about Gasket. He’d been the father I’d never had, though we hadn’t been close in years. Not until I’d come back with Chaser. After my mom had died, Gasket had become the fun uncle, making sure I was kept away from the violence of the club, had food in my belly, and was safe from wandering hands. The night I ran away, I realized he’d been more of a dad to me than my biological one. It was a shame it had taken such a drastic event for me to realize it, but we were here now.
“Wherever you want to go, I’ll follow,” Chaser murmured. “Montana, LA, fucking Siberia.”
“There’s no way in hell I’m going to Siberia. I hate the constant heat, but that’s a little extreme, don’t you think?”
“I was going for remoteness.”
“A shack in the woods would’ve been remote enough.” I began to have visions of rugged mountain men and a lumberjack Chaser throwing me over his shoulder. That wouldn’t be so bad, I thought.
He grinned and sat on the bed, patting the mattress beside him. “Let me tell you about my plan. It’ll have to be revised now the Hollow Riders are a thing.”
I sat next to him, my leg pressing against his, and relished his warmth. I stared at our boots, both laces stained with red dust, and nodded.
“Let’s go out with a bang, huh?”
Chaser grinned and knocked his boot into mine. “I was planning on it.”
Chapter 20
Sloane
I woke the next morning to an empty bed.
Rolling over, I smiled as I saw a hastily scrawled note from Chaser on the bedside table. Talking with Gasket. He really did have horrible handwriting.
After a hot shower, I found my way to the garage in search of the two most important men in my life. Glancing around the dark space, I couldn’t spy them, but I found another crew instead.
“Sloane!”
I grinned as Ratchet waved me over. A whole bunch of familiar faces had gathered around the motorcycles that Chaser and I had stolen from the Hollow Riders. It still felt weird calling them that. Kind of pathetic, actually. I bit my lip to stop myself from laughing—it really wasn’t something to joke about—and went to stand with the guys.
“Hey,” I said, punching Spike in the arm. “Long time.”
“Couple of weeks,” he replied. “You good?”
“It depends on your definition of good.” I made a face and glanced around at the others.
Stewie, Hopper, Ratchet, Spike, and Watts all had a beer in their hands and seemed happy enough to see me despite all the shit I’d gotten them into.
“How’s Rhodes?” I asked, remembering he got shot at the cabin. That night and everything before it seemed as if it was covered in a haze—as if it had happened to someone else. I wondered why that was.
“Butcher patched him up,” Hopper said. “He’s in San Fran with Deluca lookin’ after the girls.”
“Don’t let Shondra hear you refer to her as a girl,” Spike said with a laugh.
“She’s my woman,” the biker immediately shot back and flipped the younger man the bird.
I frowned, knowing the guys missed their other halves. I hoped whatever Chaser and Gasket were discussing would help bring a swift end to this. If I was separated from Chaser… Well, hell had nothing on it.
“Wanna beer, Sloane?” Ratchet asked.
“It’s a bit early for that,” I replied, raising my eyebrows.
“Dark days call for partyin’ when we can,” Watts quipped.
I tensed and looked at the two motorcycles. “Anything we can do with these? Scratch off the serial numbers? Strip them down?”
“You want to strip down a motherfucking Harley Davidson?” Spike’s mouth fell open. “Have we taught you nothing?”
“That was Rocket’s bike,” Ratchet said with a snicker. “Bet he’s madder than a bee all shook up in a jar.”
“A bee in a jar?” Watts scoffed. “Who’s a girl now?”
“Don’t say derogatory things about the fairer sex,” I declared.
“Don’t worry about that,” Spike said with a wink. “You’re not a girl, Sloane. You’re a woman.”
The bikers burst out into laughter, the sound echoing off the walls. I snorted and shook my head.
“Thanks.” I thumped him on the shoulder. “But I’m taken.”
The laughter increased, and a couple of the guys began roughing one another up. The alcohol was starting to get to them, and I wondered if they’d have poor old Monroe run off his feet later.
Turning, I surveyed the garage, my gaze raking over the racks of tools, tires, and equipment. Apart from us and a few motorcycles, the place was empty. No cars were being worked on, no customers were knocking on the door, the music was off, and the telephone unplugged. The usually noisy shop was so quiet it was eerie. If I closed my eyes and listened hard enough, I was sure I could hear the ghosts of Fortitude members past, coming out to play.
Taking another turn, I spotted Chaser’s sleek, black motorcycle in the back corner, and I smiled. One of the bikers must’ve brought it back from the cabin after the cleanup and kept it here. I was glad someone had the foresight to save a beauty like that.
“So that’s what happened to Chaser’s bike,” I said. “I was wondering if he’d lost it for good.”
“You got a taste now?” Spike asked with a grin.
“I felt the wind in my hair and a wave of bullets at my back,” I declared. “The rush was…”
Chaser grunted, signaling his presence, and I looked up at him. He was so stealthy.
“I’ll trade you a Harley Sportster for it,” I said, pointing at his sexy, black motorcycle.
“It’s stolen.”
“So?”
“I like my motorcycle,” he declared. “Get your own.”
I made a face and turned to Spike. “And he says he loves me.”
The poor guy choked on his beer, causing the others to laugh again.
“Gasket’s calling a meeting,” Chaser said to the assembled men. The smiles faded from their faces and hands tightened around their beer cans. “Common room, now.”
His tone suggested talk was going to get serious, and they knew exactly what that meant. A fight was on the horizon, and it wasn’t going to be a walk in the park. It was surreal watching them turn from big teddy bears into the frightening bikers I knew they embodied. We could laugh and joke and talk nonsense, but when it came down to it, these were guys who’d committed crimes beyond comprehension. At least they had the chops to attempt to turn their lives around. Some people were destined to get stuck in the cycle…like Rocket and his crew.
I grasped Chaser’s hand as we followed the bikers into the compound. This was it. Speeches would be made, the plan set out, and Fortitude would unite, or it would all fall apart. Obviously, we were counting on it sticking together. One last battle to win the war for forever. Everyone’s forever.
The common room was packed as we entered. Forty burly bikers were arranged on every available surface and leaning against the walls. The air was thick with cigarette smoke and tension, causing me to cough slightly. Chaser glanced at me, then tugged me forward through the mass of bodies.
“This is big,” I heard someone say. “Something’s going down.”
“Yeah, it ain’t good,” another man replied.
“You think Gasket found the renegades?”
“Don’t know, but Chaser and Sloane are back.”
“Ringer said they had a shootout with Rocket out in the desert.”
“Seriously?”
“Listen up!” Gasket bellowed as I sat on the arm of a sofa next to Spike.
Chaser leaned against the wall, half in shadow, surveying the room.
“I know I’ve asked a lot of you these past weeks,” Gasket went on. “More than I should. We’ve been split down the middle, forced into a civil war with men we once called brothers, lost good guys to their bullets, forced part from our women… I know it’s tough, but we have one last thing to do.”
“What? Suck Chaser’s cock?” someone shouted from the back of the room. There were a few answering snickers from the shadows.
“Sorry to break your heart, but there’s only one woman I let suck my dick,” Chaser drawled, causing a few laughs to cancel out the dissent.
“The Hollow Men and their…Hollow Riders are a threat to us all,” Gasket went on. “We need to be in this together, or we have no chance of beating them.”
“Why should we take our fight to the Hollow Men?” Bones asked. “Our fight is with the renegades.”
“Because they threatened Sloane,” Gasket stated. “They threatened her, and they destroyed Chaser. Now they’ve got their sights on us.”
“No thanks to them!”
“Fuck this.” Chaser stood and looked at each man in turn. “You all know me,” he said, glaring at Bones. “You know what I did for the club. You know what I was to Marini. But you don’t know who I was…or who I am.” The room was so silent I could hear each man breathe in and out. “The stakes are higher than they’ve ever been. We face an organization so dark they put the things Marini did to shame. If we’re going to trust and fight alongside each other, then you should know my story.”
“Just what we need,” someone muttered. “Another secret fucking past.”
“Fortitude is a family,” Chaser stated. “This Fortitude. And true family doesn’t keep secrets.”
I smiled up at him, proud of his strength and resolve to stand up to these men. This story wasn’t about me. It never was. It was about Chaser. I was just lucky to be a part of it.
“Before I came to Fortitude, I was an FBI agent.”
The room erupted, and several guys stood, including Ratchet.
“What?” he exclaimed. “Are you fuckin’ serious?”
“I was an FBI agent, but the system screwed me over,” Chaser went on, holding up his hand. “I was working undercover in the Hollow Men’s ranks, but they worked out who I was…and kidnapped my wife.” Several men sat down at this, their faces turning white, and several pairs of eyes glanced at me. “They refused to help, so in a moment of desperation, I went to Marini. That turned out to be a stupid idea because he did shit…” He took a deep breath. “I stood before King and pleaded for her life, but he killed her anyway. I was stuck. The FBI hung me out to dry, and Marini forced me into paying a contract he deliberately never fulfilled, so I shut down. I killed for him. No one ever confirmed it, but you all knew who I was. I was the Fortitude hit man. The shit kicker. I did it because I had nothing else. Everything was taken away from me…” Chaser glanced at me. “Until I met Sloane.”