by Carmen Faye
I twisted the throttle, and the bike lunged as if it were eager to stretch its legs. The wind roared in my ears and whipped my clothes. This was why I liked being on a bike. This was the closest to freedom I was ever going to get.
I couldn’t speed forever. If it were up to me, I would just keep going and never stop, but I had responsibilities and obligations. More now than ever before. It wasn’t just about the club and the pending gang wars holding me back but the fact that Leah still needed me, even if she was set on believing she didn’t.
There was an old family motel here somewhere among the trees that a lot of seasonal farm workers used. It was cheap, out of the way and locals avoided it. I’d driven past it a couple of times, and the only reason I was going to look there now was because it was somewhere I would have gone to hide. I didn’t think it was Leah’s thing, though. She wasn’t the kind of person that looked like she would rough it or stay in a dive. Unless, of course, it involved the ocean. Or, at least, that was how it used to be. I wasn’t sure how she felt about that now. I felt uneasy about the idea that her love for the ocean might have been compromised.
The only thing worse than Leah dying because of me would be Leah losing her passion because of me. A life without a passion was like death, anyway.
I turned into the motel and idled across the parking lot, trying to keep the noise down. There was only one car in the parking lot, a red Ford Fusion. If the car were hers, out here in the quiet, the throbbing of my bike would be a dead giveaway, and I didn’t want Leah to hear and do a runner.
I needed to speak to the person behind the front desk, and I schooled my face into a pleasant smile. People were often nervous of me, and they had good enough reason to me. Leathers and bikes didn’t exactly have a good connotation in Coquille. Still, in cases like this, I wished I looked a little more nondescript, a little more like Conrad. I shook my head, irritated with myself. I would under no circumstances wish to be more like him. I just wished I looked less like a crime waiting to happen when it was all about information.
After I’d stepped off the bike, ready to go and apply the charm or the muscle, as the case may require, I saw a man step out of a room at the far end of the motel. He didn’t glance my way but turned and disappeared around the corner. The man wore a normal T-shirt and jeans with the heavy boots most men wore around these parts, but something about him and the way he moved, screamed that I should know him. I needed to find out what was going on.
I hurried after him, sprinting to the end of the unit then slowed before peeking around the corner. The man was swinging a leg over a bike tucked in beside the dumpsters. It was obvious the bike was there because the rider was hiding it. It was a bike I knew very well. It was Jonas’s Night Rod Special.
All I could think of was that this man had Jonas’s bike. There was only one way he could have the bike of a murder victim. I sprinted around the corner, intending to kill him on the spot—to avenge Jonas and redeem myself with the club. When I’d closed about half the distance, he saw me and froze, his fingers still as he fastened his helmet. I saw red as I charged in like an enraged bull, roaring in rage. I was going to kill this fucker with my bare hands. I was going to beat the shit out of him until he was nothing but a…
I slowed, the anger draining out of me as a familiar face looked back at me. Jonas sat on his bike, in the flesh, his face as surprised as mine. But he was alive. He was as alive as I was.
“What the fuck?” was all I could think of saying as I stopped ten feet from him.
Jonas chuckled, his confusion diluted already. He was better at this than I was, but then again, he hadn’t thought I was dead.
“Is that any way to greet an old friend?” he asked.
“Where the fuck have you been? We’ve been turning the whole fucking town upside down looking for you.” Fuck that, the whole world was about to go to war because of his disappearance. With Jonas, alive it meant that the Venom Chasers and the Demon Aviators had it all wrong. They were going to war with each other for no reason at all.
Jonas nodded, his dark eyes understanding. I never thought I would look into them again. For a moment I wanted to pull him into a hug. I didn’t, though. Real men didn’t do that shit.
“Fuck, you had us all worried sick,” I said.
“It’s a long story.” He looked at his watch. “I have to be somewhere, but if you meet me later, we can have a drink. We can sit down, and I’ll fill you in.”
I was gaping, my mouth opening and closing like a fool. It was hard to believe the man all this hype had been about was alive after all. I wanted to know where he’d been and what had happened. How did he justify his disappearance? Was it worth all the hell we’d been through?
“Yeah, let’s meet up,” I heard myself say. “Just say where and when.”
“I’ll meet you at Salty’s. Be there at eight, and for fuck’s sake, don’t tell Butch or anyone else about this. This is bigger than you know.”
He pressed the button to bring the bike to life, and I watched him leave. I was left behind; still trying to grasp that Jonas was alive. This was the last thing I’d expected. It changed everything. For me. For Jonas. For the club. For Leah.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and started to dial Butch, but my thumb hovered over his name in the contact list. For fuck’s sake, don’t tell Butch or anyone else about this. This is bigger than you know… Jonas’ voice echoed in my mind.
I stood there for at least thirty seconds as I warred over what to do before I dropped the phone back into my pocket. Ten hours. It was only ten hours until I could get some answers.
I turned and hurried back to my bike, praying Leah would remain safe that long.
Chapter Thirty
When I’d followed Leah into Salty’s the first time, I’d been surprised she’d chosen such a place. It wasn’t exactly upscale and wholesome, as I’d come to know her to be. The contrast was even starker now. I walked into the dim bar, and the lighting inside wasn’t much of an improvement over the lit streets.
I’d spent the rest of the day trying to put two and two together, only half-searching for Leah, riding aimlessly, hoping to spot her. With Jonas being alive everything changed. I didn’t let the club know yet, even though I had a feeling I should have. I wanted to know from Jonas what was going on first. I needed to understand what he was up to before I told Butch. I was the informant, and I’d been messing up for a while, so I wanted to know all the facts.
Stale smoke hung in the air. Oregon was a non-smoking state, but Murray didn’t worry about the rules too much, just like his clientele. I nodded my greeting at him and took a seat at the bar. There were a few more people around than last time, sitting at the bar or at the small round tables scattered between the door and me.
“What will it be?” Murray asked me.
“Jack, neat,” I said and slid money across the bar. Murray pried the money off the sticky bar top with sausage fingers before going about getting the drink for me.
I looked around. Jonas hadn’t arrived yet, and it was nearly eight. My guts twisted. I needed him to come, and I was afraid he wouldn’t show. The guy was one of the club members, one of my brothers, but I wasn’t sure if I could trust him anymore.
The drink appeared, and I sipped it. The taste of the whiskey seemed bland tonight. Maybe it was my mood, or maybe Murray was watering down the drinks. I wouldn’t put it past this place. I stopped doing my business here a while ago because the ladies liked to be taken somewhere classy if I needed information from them.
It felt like we’d come full circle. Everything had started in this shit-hole, and the journey since hadn’t been very long, but it felt like a lifetime. I looked at the seat next to me where Leah had sat and imagined her soft blonde hair, round cheeks, shy blush, and dimples.
I glanced at the clock. It was already a quarter past eight, and I realized that Jonas wasn’t going to show. The fuss over the body had been so big because it had coincided with Jonas’s disappearance. No
w it seemed stupid because he was alive.
I glanced toward the door. Fifteen more minutes, and I were out of there, and I’d call Butch and let him know Jonas was fucking with us. The guy had pulled a disappearing trick. I’d wanted to know why, to present the complete picture, but I would take what I could get. Just as I thought it, the door opened and Murray looked up. I followed his gaze, and Jonas entered and walked toward me.
There was something different about him. He was still the brother I knew, but his walk, his attitude, was different. He had an air of I-have-arrived about him, and his stride was arrogant. His eyes were dark and a little menacing when he smiled at me, and it made me feel uneasy. Brothers didn’t look at each other this way, no matter how rough things got in the club.
“I got held up,” he said, sitting on the stool beside me and slapping his hand down on the bar. Murray raised an eyebrow at him. “Patrón, Murray!” he called, pointing at the bar in front of him with a finger.
I didn’t say anything about his choice of alcohol, but I was pretty sure that hadn’t been his standard drink before.
“It’s not a problem.” I felt like I had to say that because I needed something from him. The real problem was that fact that Jonas was here and not in the county morgue. “What I want to know is where you’ve been, man. Everyone has been looking for you. There’s a shit-load of problems because of your disappearance.” I ground my teeth in annoyance. Problems? That was an understatement.
Jonas downed his shot then snarled silently before he pointed at the glass then turned to face me. “I know. I’ve heard the gossip.”
I frowned. “You’ve been in town all this fucking time? You knew we were turning the fucking town upside down looking for you and you did nothing?”
Jonas nodded again. “Never left.” He smiled but said nothing else.
I shook my head. I had no idea what was going on. I was also getting irritated with his cryptic responses. What was this, twenty questions? Did I have to draw the information out of him bit by bit before he was going to tell me anything?
“So what the fuck happened?” Maybe my question would be broad enough. “Why did you leave us with our dicks hanging out?”
Jonas tossed back the second shot, sneered, put the glass down and pointed again. “I feel bad about that, Pax. I really do. But if you want to move forward in life sometimes you need to cut your ties to the past.”
I frowned. “Cut your ties to the past?”
Jonas waited while Murray filled his glass then picked it up and held the glass to his lips for a moment. My guess was he was delaying. Finally, he tossed the liquid back and put the glass down. Murray refilled it as Jonas looked at me.
“The VCMC was part of my life, Pax. They made me who I am. But no more.”
“What do you mean, ‘no more’? We’ve always had your back.”
“I know. But it’s not enough anymore.” He tossed back his shot. If he kept going like that, he was going to be face down on the floor before I found out shit. “So I decided to start my own club.”
I blinked at Jonas, stunned. “Your own club.” It was a statement, and I couldn’t believe it. “You can’t start your own club! Butch would never approve it!”
“Fuck Butch! It’s why I dropped out. He likes to play his stupid little power games, and you pussies just go along with him! That’s bullshit, Pax. I don’t need his fucking permission.”
I stared at him. He’d gone mad. Nobody started a motorcycle club in Coquille without the Chasers permission, and that meant Butch. “You can’t do this! Butch will hunt you down and kill you if you start a club without his blessing.”
“Already did. The Incubus Hands.”
I stared at him. He was crazy. “You know the Chasers are going to hunt you down and wipe you out! What’s wrong with you?”
“They won’t. They’re going to be too busy. The Chasers and the Aviators both. And when it’s over, I’ll be there to pick up the pieces.”
Suddenly it clicked. “You’re trying to start the war.”
He smiled at me. “You always were the smart one.”
“You killed your own brothers?”
“They’re not my brothers. Not anymore.”
“You motherfucker!” I snarled softly as I began to slide off the stool. I was going to kick his ass then drag his sorry ass back to Butch, but I froze when the pistol appeared in his hand. It was between his body and the bar, out of sight of all but me. “Sit down, Pax. I don’t want to kill you, especially here, but I will.”
“You cocksucker.”
He smiled, but it was cold. “Sticks and stones and all that bullshit. Yeah, I killed them. I killed that drunk for a body when I went missing. When that wasn’t enough, I killed seven more, three Chasers and four Aviators. War is inevitable now. It can’t be stopped. You each think the other did it.”
“And now you’re going to kill me?” I hissed.
“I can’t have you telling Butch about me. I had a place in the Hands for you. I could have used someone like you.”
“Why? Just tell me why.”
“Why, what?”
“Why’d you do it?”
He smiled. “It was time for a shakeup. The Chasers and the Aviators, they’ve been at each other’s throats forever. But I’m going to bring peace to Coquille. After you two have fucked each other until you’re exhausted, the Hands will step in and clean up the mess.”
“You fucking bastard. We’re going to gut you and anyone connected to you. The fucking Chasers will own your ass.”
“Really? How’re you doing so far?” He smiled. “My boys, they know the plan. They’ve got my back. And once you’re out of the way…” He shrugged and his smile widened. “Nobody’s going to gut me. I’m already fucking dead, remember?”
“You’re going to have to shoot me right here,” I snarled.
“Okay.”
Chapter Thirty-one
I lunged for Jonas just as he squeezed the trigger. The shot was deafening inside the bar, and the few customers made for the door as Jonas and I crashed to the ground.
Jonas was older than I was, but he was well built with thick muscles. What advantage I might have in youth and speed was offset by his experience, plus he was a brawler and could take a punch. The pistol fired again as I tried to twist the gun from his grasp, and I felt the bite as the slide tried to reciprocate against my hand. Now that his gun was jammed and he couldn’t shoot me, I knew we were on more of an equal footing.
I leaped off him, trying to get to my feet and get some distance so I could draw my own weapon, but Jonas was no fool, and he charged into me before I could get the pistol clear and around. He tackled me like a Defensive End, roaring as he lifted me from my feet and drove me backward into the stools and the bar. I’m surprised I didn’t hear my spine snap from the impact, and there was no way I could hang onto my pistol after a hit like that. As I roared in pain, the pistol went flying, crashing into bottles behind the bar and landing God knows where. So it was going to be a down and dirty street fight? Good. Fucking someone up with my fists would allow me to work out all my frustrations.
With a scream of rage and pain, I clapped my hands hard against his ears, the over-pressure from the impact making him bellow in pain. I was going to kill this motherfucker with my bare hands. Jonas stumbled back, off balance by my slap and I charged in. I threw a left jab, then followed with a roundhouse right, putting my back and shoulder into the punch. He may have been hurt, but he wasn’t out. He blocked the left and ducked under the right, driving a meaty fist into my ribs as I overextended from my miss.
The blow to the ribs hurt like a bitch, but I followed the swing rather than trying to check it and open myself up to another punch. I pivoted on my toe then drove the same right that just missed backward. I may have missed with my fist, but I didn’t miss with my elbow. I felt the impact of my hard elbow against soft flesh, then a warm and wet spray against my neck.
I tried to turn back, but before I could, h
e had me around the neck with one meaty arm, his other hand on the back of my neck. I had seconds before he choked me out. Rather than go for the arm, the natural and instinctive move, I reached back and lower as he slammed into my back. I grabbed a hand full of cock, clamped down, and twisted as hard as I could.
Jonas’ scream next to my ear was earsplitting, but he let me go as he grabbed for my hand. He backpedaled, one hand on the wrist of the hand that had his cock in a vice, the other on my jacket as he tried to drag me off of him.
His pain gave him strength, and he hauled me backward, ripping my hand from his crotch as he whirled me around. I slid out of my jacket, my shirt ripping free as I struggled to keep my feet. He charged after me, his face a ruined mess from his broken nose and split lips. I took a stance and fired a straight right into his face as he came. I hit him so hard I was afraid I’d broken my hand, and I felt the impact all the way to my shoulder, but he never slowed.