by A. J. Downey
“I love you,” I whispered, the approaching rumble of thunder nearly drowning it out.
“I trust you,” she said and twisted fully to straddle my lap. “I don’t offer things like that up unless I do…” She rested her forehead against mine and cradled my face with one hand. Slowly she lowered her lips to mine and kissed me, a gentle contact of lips. I kissed her back, but let her go at her pace.
“I don’t like thinking about it too much,” she confessed and I nodded.
“Consider the subject dropped.”
“Can we not bring it up again?”
“For now, but I’m not going to let it go back into the dark completely,” I said honestly. “Eventually we’ve got to drag some of these demons into the light and let the light kill them.”
“Therapy?” she asked, and she made it sound like a dirty word.
“No, just you and me, like we’ve faced everything else. We just didn’t really get the time back then to deal with this particular monster under your bed.”
Her gaze flicked down to the shimmery water of our bath and fixed there. She sighed and it was heavy and asked, “One thing at a time, yeah?”
“We’ve got the rest of our lives to figure it out, baby. I promise.”
Her hands came up from beneath the water and fixed one on top of the other over my mouth. She frowned at me as I let out a surprised and muffled “Mmph!” and she glared at me accusingly.
“Don’t you dare jinx us, Kyle Cochran,” she hissed and I smiled slightly against her palm. I was wondering when my superstitious gypsy girl was going to show up to the party. I put my arms around her waist and raised an eyebrow, her hands slowly lowering from my mouth.
I resisted the urge to wipe the water dripping down my chin away and said honestly, “I have the ultimate good luck charm this run, baby.”
She rolled her eyes, “Better be one big fucking rabbit’s foot.”
I grinned, “Try about a dozen badass motherfuckers. It’s going to be fine.”
“Yeah,” she said, drawing in a shuddering breath, “Famous last words.”
“Don’t do that,” I said sharply and she looked at me.
“What?”
“Quit trusting me now.”
She stopped, jerked back as if she’d never considered the notion then said after a peal of closer thunder, “Metal building, metal tub, let’s get you washed up and get out of this thing before we become fricassee.”
I laughed, “Sounds all right to me.”
17
Amalia…
Fifteen hours. That’s how long it took for them to reach us from the time Kyle switched on my laptop and connected to the internet. It’d been around nine o’clock after two intense days of getting the piece of property we were on set up and ready to rock and roll. We’d gotten eight hours of sleep, the guys that were staying with us taking up scattered cots around the available space, which had pretty much put the kibosh on Kyle and me getting it on. I wasn’t quite that level of exhibitionist.
Eight solid hours of sleep, then we all got up and took our positions. Kyle was behind his keyboard and mouse, eyes on multiple screens and camera angles. I was at his side marveling at the amount of technical know-how he’d amassed since we were kids. I mean, he’d always been into computers, but this was nuts, way above my pay-grade. My messenger bag sat at my feet fully packed and ready to go, as the plan was as soon as the shit went down and we were through it, I was supposed to go with Reaver to a nearby safe house. I was okay with that, but only because I was going to see Kyle later on.
Anyways, seven hours after the guys took position, the first alarm went off. Kyle clicked a couple of keys and the mouse once, and the biggest screen was suddenly splattered with a view of the road, and three black SUV’s climbing into the hills.
Trigger came over the radio, “Tint’s too dark to make out how many, but they damn sure out-number what we’ve got on the ground.”
Dragon came on and I looked up at him standing just inside the door to the building, “That’s what we got you for, not to mention the home-field advantage. I wouldn’t panic just yet.”
“Got six of ‘em moving through the woods,” Archer came over the radio and his voice was low, careful.
“Oooh, it’s show time!” Reaver sounded excited. Kyle was pointing out movement on screens and I slipped my dad’s gun out of my waistband just to have it ready, just in case.
“Keep it silent, boys. Also, keep it last minute if you can, taking these fuckers out might tip off the rest o’ their clan.”
“Copy,” Archer muttered over the line.
“You suck,” Reaver pouted.
Some tall grass and a branch thrashed in the corner of my eye on one screen and I looked, a man with an arrow through his throat sliding, face first, back out of view.
“One down,” Data murmured.
“Two,” Reaver grunted.
“Three,” Trigger muttered.
“Four.” Archer.
“Five.” Reaver.
“Six.” Archer again.
“Any deviation?” Dragon asked.
“Nope,” Data said and added for my benefit, “This is how we do it. Smooth as butter.”
I punched him lightly in his well-developed shoulder and hissed, “Don’t jinx it!” But he wasn’t paying me any mind. Instead, he called out, to the team both here and over the radio, “Second wave incoming.”
His voice was all business, in total control, and reminded me of how he got when we’d played video games as kids. It was one of those moments where it was a cross between being adorable and having such terrifying overtones it left you speechless and grim. I rolled my lips together and breathed in deep, letting it out slow, anxiety and the urge to do something, to be useful somehow, making my skin crawl.
“They aren’t slowing down,” Trigger stated and Dragon cursed.
“So pump the brakes, Big Man. You’re the only one who can,” he said into the radio.
The SUV’s were coming up the driveway, and the first one, movie-perfect, which was really what this felt like seeing it play out on the screen like this, had a perfect hole develop in the windshield over where the driver’s head should be. The car swerved and went into the split log and wire fence at the side of the sloping field leading up to the building we were in.
“Start pickin’ em’ off,” Kyle ordered, and I realized that this wasn’t Kyle anymore. This was the man seventeen years in the making, during my absence. This was Data… a cold, calculating biker who could casually order the cold-blooded murder of men he didn’t know. I swallowed hard, and let the guilt swamp me, rush over and through me, swirling once inside before I ushered it out the back and focused on getting both him and me out of this situation alive.
I turned him into this… I realized, and it wasn’t a good feeling.
“Get what I can, but I ain’t got a bead on most of ‘em,” Trigger said before I heard rounds popping off just outside, loud. Louder than I expected.
“Take cover!” Zeb shouted in his thick accent through the radio.
“Shit! Fuck! Goddammit, they’re gonna breach!” Rush shouted and I pulled on Kyle, dragging him out of his chair and to the floor, Dragon echoing the movement, just as whoever was outside opened up on the building with an automatic weapon.
Sparks and plastic shards flew from the equipment on Kyle’s desk. Shouting, screaming, some of it mine echoed in my ears that suddenly felt as if I was hearing everything from under water. A ringing took up in them and I shoved Kyle down.
Dragon and I made eye contact from across the cracked cement floor and I was galvanized. Action, we needed action or this was going to be much worse.
I think Kyle shouted, his fingers scrabbling over my jeans-clad leg, and slipping over the leather of the back of my boot. I got up into a low crouch and skittered across the floor and, breath pistoning in and out of my lungs, chest cramped hard with dread, I ducked out the swinging door and out into the yard and the blazing sun and shot
the first man standing.
“Keep one alive!” Dragon shouted and he was next to me. The one I had shot went down like a felled tree, clutching his throat.
“Zeb is hit!” Rush screamed and an arrow whizzed, taking another man low, in the hip. He went down, eyes wide behind his ballistics mask clutching at the wound and I didn’t think I just acted. I scrambled low across the dirt and grabbed him by the shoulders of his vest and hauled him towards the open door behind me. Dragon was covering us, popping up from behind the hulk of car we’d rolled in front of the door in preparation for this and shooting. Rush and Zeb were behind two more we’d set up as a barricade, and while Zeb was on the ground, pale and panting, he was still reloading his gun, leaning out and firing.
The man I was pulling on was reaching for his gun and I dropped him, ripping off his mask and without thinking just started smashing him in the face and head with the butt of my daddy’s gun. He was trying to fight back, a glancing blow skidding along my cheek as the cacophony of gunfire raged around us. Some of the men in their tactical gear were folding like cheap paper, others falling back and ripping at their gear, surprised to find they weren’t dead.
The man and I struggled, his gun cleared the holster and I grabbed his hand, forcing it down, screaming in impotent rage that he just wouldn’t give up! He was forcing my hand, I couldn’t stop. It was him or me and I pointed the barrel of my dad’s gun down and pulled the trigger, his blood and brains painting the ground, my boots, and part of my pants leg in a sticky, crimson starburst pattern.
Hands grabbed me from behind and hauled me into the building and I screamed, turning the gun; my wrist was grabbed and forced up; the weapon went off, harmlessly away from everyone else, thank god; and Kyle’s face entered my vision. I stopped resisting and he pulled me inside, Dragon following, and I caught one order from the older man.
“Let them advance!”
The trap was set, Kyle mouthed ‘trust me’ and I did; so I followed orders, I fell back, and even though it went against everything I stood for, I let the men take the lead…
18
Data…
“Go with Reaver, baby.” I held her face between my hands and kissed her forehead which was salty from sweat and her smeared tears. She didn’t take killing a man lightly, even though she’d done it twice and wouldn’t hesitate if it came to it again. Strong, brave, but so very human and with a heart… some of the qualities I would forever love about my girl.
“Soon, I’ll see you soon, right?” she demanded and I felt the bitterness of the lie on my tongue, even as I spoke it anyway.
“Yeah, I’ll see you soon.”
“Okay… okay…” we’d taken two alive, and both of them were on their knees, bleeding from superficial injuries that were about to get a whole lot worse. Some of the rest of the club were already on their way out to begin a rapid clean-up. Doc was among them to tend to Zeb, who’d taken a shot to the outside of his thigh, more substantial than a graze, but nowhere near the femoral artery and it didn’t look like he’d broken the femur.
Still, Rush was with Zeb as he grunted and huffed, and tried not to scream as Rush tightened the tourniquets high up, dangerously close to Zeb’s nuts.
“You catch one of the boys in this medieval torture racket, we ain’t gonna be mates anymore, yeah.” He said and Rush laughed.
“Don’t be a fuckin’ baby,” Archer grunted, lighting a cigarette.
“Come on, Queenie,” Reaver said, adopting the nickname given to her by Revelator. “We've gotta go.” He hefted her messenger bag, plastic bits from my slaughtered systems and glass from some of the monitors slipping off its red vinyl top flap to tick and tinkle against the cement floor.
“Right behind us, right?” she asked, and I nodded saying, “As soon as we clean up this mess.”
She followed Reave reluctantly. They had a bit of a hike through the woods to get to where the bikes were parked and get the fuck out of here. I watched them go, kissed my fingertips and held them up and out to her. She did the same, and then she was out the door.
I turned grim, went over to the first guy and pulled the gaffing tape off from over his mouth. He instantly spit in my face and I punched him right in his fucking mouth, his teeth scraping my knuckles and taking some skin. His head snapped back and he groaned, and when it fell forward again it was right back to the tape over his lips. Fuck that.
I pulled a bandana out of my back pocket and wiped away his spit and went to the next guy.
“Now I got some questions, we all do, and if you answer them, this might not go as badly for you as it’s going to go for your friend… you feel me?” I asked.
I’d seen these interrogations more than once in my life since joining the club, but this was the first time I’d taken a willing step off that ledge and into the abyss of no return. I couldn’t think of a better reason on this good, green earth to do it than for Amalia Rose, either.
The man looked wary and nodded slowly. I smiled and I knew it wasn’t friendly. He’d picked the wrong boss to work for, and I wanted to know exactly who that was. I was much nicer about peeling the tape off of him. A little kindness in these scenarios went a long ways.
19
Amalia…
I followed Reaver through tall grass and trees, his pace rushed, taking the terrain in long, ground-eating strides that left me struggling to keep up, not to mention out of breath, but my pride refused to let me ask him to slow down. I was my father’s daughter that way, and if I had to have a cardinal sin to rule me, it was a toss-up between pride and anger.
We reached the bikes, parked off an old dirt country backroad in a clearing. He got astride his, holding out a helmet to me. I put it on as he put his on and put on some eyewear. He handed me a pair of women’s sunglasses and I put them on, knowing that my eyeliner hadn’t run, being that’d I had permanently tattooed some of it on me, only using the actual cosmetic when I wanted a thicker line or a different look.
“Get on,” he ordered and I did, settling myself behind him, wrapping my arms around him.
“How far is it to the safe house?” I asked, and I should have realized right then by his answer that something wasn’t right.
“We’ll get there when we get there, Queenie,” he called over the sudden roar of the engine starting.
I swallowed hard, trusting in Kyle, and held on as we lurched out onto the pitted dirt track out of here.
20
Amalia…
Something like nine or ten hours after the showdown, we pulled into some fucking town I’d never heard of, Ft. Royal, fucking Florida. I’d been pissed; but now, six weeks later, the place almost felt like it could be home except for one thing.
No Kyle.
Like I said, I’d been fucking pissed when we’d gotten here. Angry with Reaver, pissed off with this new set of biker assholes The Kraken, and ready to fucking punch something. That something had been Reaver at first, but that hadn’t quite worked out, then to add insult to injury, the Kraken Prez’s ol’ lady, Hope had stepped up.
She whooped my ass before I could snarl anything about her ol’man having a flaccid cock. I’d been on the ground quicker than lightning, in a joint lock that could have – and would have – busted my elbow if I’d moved and that’d cooled me off a bit. When they’d disarmed me and were sure I wasn’t going to try anything, they’d let me up.
I didn’t cry, but it was a near thing. I was just that angry.
They’d put me on a secure face time call with Kyle who looked like he was so full of hurt, fear, and regret, my anger had chilled the rest of the way, which just turned it back on itself and pissed me off a whole new way.
“Mad at me?” he’d asked, and I’d felt utterly defeated in the face of it. He knew. He’d always known. The only man, the only person on the planet who knew me better than I knew myself and he still had it… even after all that time.
A blur of turquoise and white dropped onto the low rock wall next to me, blurting out, “Hey, wha
tcha thinkin’?” I startled and knocked off my sightless staring and looked over at Faith, the ol’ lady to The Kraken’s VP.
“About the night I got here.”
She grinned and knocked her shoulder into mine and sighed, “And?”
“Still pissed,” I said wrinkling my nose impishly. It’d become a running joke now, but I still felt bitter and tumultuous over it. Mostly because I missed him. It wasn’t fair. We’d only just found each other again to be separated and I still didn’t know how to feel about the fact that he didn’t trust me enough to tell me the plan. “But he was right.” the little voice, ever-present in the back of my mind, whispered.
Of course, he was. Still, it didn’t mean I had to fucking like it.
“I love you, baby, but I need to focus on this part…”
I closed my eyes. We hadn’t been able to talk much since that night. Mostly when we did talk, it was via text messaging, again, through secure accounts and shit. The setup on my end had been provided courtesy of The Kraken’s technically inclined guru, Radar. I kind of had to admit at that point that these bikers weren’t assholes either.
“Sorry,” I muttered, realizing I’d gone back inside my own head and had completely missed whatever Faith had just said to me.
“It’s okay,” she murmured, always patient, always kind.
I sighed harshly and shook my head, “No, it’s really not…”
“It is!” she insisted, sweeping her long, blonde, beachy waves over one shoulder and pulling them through her hands. She smiled at me, “I have a hard enough time being away from Marlin when he goes on a fishing trip longer than a day without me, I couldn’t imagine six weeks away from him.”
I nodded, then shook my head again. “We only just found each other.” I sighed and apologized again, standing up. “Sorry, I’m really just not in the mood or the best company right now,” I told her.