by Brook Wilder
So business trips were how he did that, got himself out of his box, out of his head, and away from that grind for a little while.
“First round’s gonna be on you, boss,” Moose said as they moved down the street.
Chance rolled his eyes but nodded. Moose was the only one he ever took with him. His best friend, his bodyguard, the only person besides himself that he trusted completely implicitly in the world. He’d be happy to buy Moose a drink any day of the week and name several of his children after him one day.
They moved down one of the residential street. The locals never liked it, but taking the neighborhood roads was one of the best ways to avoid trouble when they had somewhere they needed to get. He didn’t want a turf war or some bone head deciding to pick a fight when he was on his way out of town and on his way to his own version of a vacation. So they moved through a block of apartment buildings, turning onto Neville Street when he saw something familiar.
Ben’s bike was parked outside one of the apartment buildings and a girl was getting on the back. Another man, more of a boy than anything else, was standing nearby, practically naked except for the boxers around his waist. He was shivering in the morning air. The closer they got, the more miserable he woman looked and the more scared the boy seemed. Chance knew scenes like this, he’d seen them often where Ben was concerned.
He signaled to Moose and pulled over.
The group on the sidewalk looked at him.
“Boss,” Ben said with a halfhearted salute.
“What’s going on here?” Chance asked, trying to remain casual, and pointing to the girl.
“Little tough guy over there owes us some money. I’m generously giving him an extra week and taking some collateral for good measure,” he said.
Chance turned towards the woman. She was young, she was no child, but she was young enough to look more than a little scared at the whole situation. He knew exactly how Ben planned to pass the time while he waited for the boy on the sidewalk to pay or not pay his debt back.
“You going with this guy willingly?” he asked the girl.
“Oh for fuck’s sake—”
“Shut it, Andrews.” He turned back to the girl. “Well?”
“Yeah,” she said, quietly. “No one is forcing me to do anything I didn’t agree to.”
Chance looked at her. Ben had done this before and it ended in quite a lot of tears for the girl who was quickly forced into the gang’s pass-around girl. He wasn’t sure how many of the men had raped her before he finally stepped in and got her to a shelter, Ben laughing the entire time at her whimpering and tears. That scene had been painful for Chance to endure. He remembered his mother’s own tears. Her life as his father’s old woman had not been ideal. In fact, it had been torture. He promised not to let that happen again.
“Fine,” Chance said. Ben went back to getting the girl on the back of his bike. “But she’s coming with me.”
“What?” Ben practically spat.
“She’s our guest. She’s going to be kept safe. She’s not an animal or a toy. The only way I can trust that will happen is if she’s with me,” he said. “We’re not having any repeat incidents and until you earn my trust back, she stays with me.”
“You could maybe not talk about me like I’m not here,” the girl grumbled. Chance fought down a smile. He liked the idea of a girl with an attitude.
“That’s bullshit,” Ben said, stepping up to Chance. “It’s me her brother owes the money to. I get to decide to do whatever I want with my payment.”
“She’s a human being, not your plaything. And if he owes money to you then he owes it to me. And I outrank you. She comes with us.”
Ben looked ready to explode. Chance was waiting, daring him to throw a punch and give him a reason to kick his ass into the ground. It didn’t come, however. Ben got on his bike, kicked the engine on, and sped off in a huff. Chance watched him go with mild interest and turned back to the girl. He removed his helmet and offered it to her.
“You coming?”
Chapter 2
Even with the roar of the bike between them, Hannah could feel the energy coming off of her mystery savoir. She wouldn’t really call him a savior, actually, he looked like the type of guy seen on the cover of some bodice ripping pirate porn novel. He had that sort of chiseled handsomeness about him with more than a dash of attitude. Still, he gave her his helmet, though he hadn’t said a word to her since getting on the bike. He did shout several times to his companion whose name, if she heard correctly, was Moose.
Part of her knew it was just as stupid to get on the back of this bike as it was to get on the other. She knew the good cop-bad cop routine and she knew all about Stockholm syndrome (she had an entire unit on it in her first semester). He could easily be trying to play into her trust when faced with the possibility of rape from the alternative option. She wasn’t going to so easily fall into a trap like this. She kept her body stiff and her mind alert. She didn’t trust the man driving this bike any more than she trusted the man who all but tried to toss her on his bike. Still, it was obvious they didn’t like each other and the enemy of my enemy…
The problem was she wasn’t sure which one exactly was the enemy. She had a choice though, she could sit there and be terrified of the man who was both her protector and capture or she could funnel that all into a much more productive source of energy: anger. The latter made her feel a bit more powerful, so she went with that, trying not to grip too tightly into the driver’s shoulders as she thought of how pissed off she was at the whole situation.
She was going to law school to change her life, and change the lives of those around her. Now she was going to miss God knew how many classes to play hostage while her brother scrounged for money he didn’t have to pay back some dangerous men.
Not her idea of a good future for herself.
Her brother was safe, at least. Well, she was pretty sure he was safe. His debts were, currently, accounted for. She was proof of that. That didn’t mean someone else wasn’t banging down the door or some new idiotic temptation wasn’t coming to cause more problems but for the issues she knew of, she at least had a sense to know he was well protected and safe.
They rode for hours and she felt like her legs were both going to turn into jelly and completely stiffen up at the Hannahe time. Her muscles were both cramped from gripping at the seat and holding onto the drive tight and shaken up like a smoothie from the vibrations of the bike’s engine. Just when she was sure her arms and legs were just going to fall right off on the spot, they pulled off the side of the road and into a gas station.
“You want anything?” Moose said, getting off his bike and pointing into the small convenience store attached to the gas station.
“Coffee, black. You want anything?” he turned and looked at Hannah.
She was actually starving. But she didn’t want to give them the power of knowing that, of providing her with food. She shook her head.
“Get her some trail mix or some shit,” he said despite her answer.
She scowled. She was both mad and relieved. Now she was facing the new trial of whether or not to eat it in front of him.
“You got a name, lady?” he asked, pumping his motorcycle full of gas.
She wanted to ignore him. He didn’t get to know her name. That would be even more power for him and a slippery slope that lead to too much trust. She kept her mouth shut and he sighed.
“My name is Chance,” he said. “Williams.”
He was trying to build trust, make himself the vulnerable one. She’d seen this all before in several hostage case studies, it’s the way things like this operated, tit for tat, give a little to get a little. She wasn’t going to buy it.
“Fine,” he said. “Be anonymous. Whatever.”
He didn’t say anything after that, pumping the gas in silence and accepting his black coffee in silence. Moose handed her a bag of peanuts and she did her best not to devour them despite how hungry she was. Before they g
ot back on the road, however, Chance pulled her aside.
“I want it made clear, I’m out of town on business and you’re a inconvenience,” he said. She scowled.
“Gee, I’m sorry that you taking me hostage is such a problem for you,” she said, crossing her arms.
“I’m dropping you off at our motel and then we’ve got things to take care of tonight—”
“People to murder? Bodies to bury?”
“—I trust you’re not going to run off anywhere because you’re still, like it or not, collateral, no matter how nice I treat you.”
“You certainly do think highly of yourself.”
He didn’t say anything else, got back on the bike and waited for her to do the Hannahe before driving off without warning.
***
They got to the motel just as the sun was setting. He made a show of how he had to rent an extra room to toss her in so she’d feel comfortable and not threatened by sleeping in the Hannahe room as two strange men. She told him thank you and glared. It wasn’t exactly like having two dangerous men sleeping only feet from her was some invalid fear of hers.
“You’re an idiot, I just want you to know that,” he said as he dropped her off at the room before leaving.
“Really?” she said, crossing her arms. “Any other observations you’d like to make?”
“You offered yourself up as biker bait. Do you know what happens to those girls?” he asked.
“Yes, actually, I do. I’ve talked to plenty of the Satan’s Knights sexual assault victims in my volunteer work,” she said. “I know what you guys get up to.”
“Then why the hell did you offer yourself up to Ben like that?”
“I did zero offering,” she said. “I went with him willingly but it was only after he said it was that or my brother’s brains were going to get blown all over the living room right in front of me. Maybe you should learn to control your dogs a little better.”
He shook his head, told her to have a good night, and walked out.
She waited until she was sure he was out of earshot, the sound of his motorcycle fading into the distance, before taking a pillow and leveling a scream into it that was muffled but still let out all her energy. When they got out of this, she was going to kill her brother herself. He never listened, he was selfish, and now she was trapped in a dangerous and incredibly miserable situation with only the promise of an angry looking psychopath that he wasn’t going to come back and murder him in his sleep anyway.
She settled for a bath. That usually calmed her issues. It didn’t make them go away, but she could think with a little more calm and a little less speed when she was sitting in a bathtub. The bathroom didn’t look as dirty as the motel label might suggest. She put the plug in the bottom and began to the fill the tub with steaming hot water, dropping in whatever two cent soap was sitting on the counter. It was better than nothing.
She peeled her clothing off, taking care to take everything off individually, savoring the feeling of stripping down, focusing on the task. It gave her a way to think, to meditate on things. She felt a little bit calmer for each piece of clothing removed, each button she popped open. Eventually she was stark naked and shivering, just slightly, in the chilly air as the top layer of her skin erupted into goosebumps and the tiny hairs across her arms and the back of her neck stood on end.
The sensation met its opposite when she dipped a foot into the tub and shivered for how good the warm water felt against her chilled skin. She dipped down completely into the water, sighing as she did so. She took a deep breath and let the water wash over her as she dipped her head below, just once, and resurfaced. She closed her eyes and let her mind wander. She thought about school, about her future. She thought about one day getting out of that apartment with her brother, helping those kids the gangs so greedily wanted to recruit into their ranks for cheap labor.
She thought about the term ending and the freedom the summer would bring to her. She thought about everything outside her hotel room, outside her prison, and away from the fucked up world her brother dragged her into. She thought about it for so long she didn’t even notice when she passed into a deep sleep.
***
She was awoken by the slam of the door. The first thing she noticed was that her steaming warm bath had turned to lukewarm, borderline chilly water. Her hands were pruny in virtually every corner and she’d be paying for that for weeks with a moisturizer regiment. Standing over her was Chance Williams, glaring and uncaring that she sat naked from head to toe below him.
“You’re a fucking idiot,” he said. “Did you want to die by drowning or by leaving the door unlocked and letting anyone waltz right in here?”
He threw a towel at her as she rose out of the bathtub and marched after him.
‘I’m not some pawn in your gang you can just order around and insult whenever you want, you know,” she said, hotly. “I happen to be the top of my class. I also happen to do that while being employed fulltime as a waitress and cleaning up after my brother’s messes. My name, by the way? It’s Hannah. Hannah Bremer and you better get used to it because one day I’m going to be defending kids from scum bags like you who want to take advantage of their lack of future.”
“Don’t talk about me like you know me.”
“Don’t order me around. You’re the one dragging me God-knows-where over some goddamn money. You and your gang act like fucking children when it comes to crap like this. I’m not going to go quietly along as part of your dick-measuring contest,” she said. “Now get out of my room, I’m going to bed.”
He obeyed, slamming the door behind him and she tried to pretend her face was flushed from anger alone and not from the way he’d been staring at the bounce of her breasts beneath the towel.
Chapter 3
The next morning she was woken up with a lot less anger. It was a more timid knock on her door that drew her out of bed and she was happy to report that she hadn’t been murdered in her sleep by anyone. That was a good sign, at least. She padded over to the door, wrapping the hotel-issued robe around her, and looked through the peephole to see Moose.
“Miss Bremer?” he asked and she could almost smile at how sincere he sounded. She wasn’t going to give in though, everything could be calculated, she had to remember that. “We’re getting breakfast at the diner on the corner if you want to meet us over there when you’re ready.”
He waited and she called out an “okay” through the door and she watched through the peephole as he nodded and left. She turned back into her room, putting on the only clothes she had with her and hoping they didn’t smell too much from an entire day of wearing them. Not that she cared. Maybe the smell would keep away an unsavory types looking to get a little too friendly with her. It was one of the nice things about having only smudged make up from the night before on her face and clothes that were a day old and made older by the smell of sweat and gasoline.
She stepped outside and thought of everything she was going to be missing in lecture that day, as well. Had her brother even thought to tell her professors anything, call or leave an email? She didn’t exactly want him messaging them to let them know she was now playing hostage with a group of bikers to pay off his gambling debt, but she was also not keen on having them think she was just skipping out on class for a week or two—
God she hoped this wasn’t going to last a week.
She walked down to the only diner on the corner, wondering if she should try to make a break for it. But at this point her best chance was probably with Chance and Moose. At least she knew at this point they probably wouldn’t hurt her, they’d had too many chances and she gave them every reason to with all the fights. But she had no idea what some erstwhile trucker might do or some pimp looking to add a girl to his line-up. It was one of those lesser of two evils things. She needed to stay where she knew the extent of the danger and come up with a plan later.
She walked into the diner, a tiny bell on the door alerting the inhabitants already ther
e to her presence. She spotted Chance and Moose easy this way, avoiding the eyes of everyone else watching her as she moved to sit with them in the booth in the back, their coffee already on the table.
“I got you pancakes,” Chance said, when she sat. “Hope you’re not one of those chicks who can’t eat carbs ever.”
“Pancakes are fine,” she said evenly. “Coffee?”
“When I hear a thank you for breakfast, sure.”
She rolled her eyes but forced a thank you out of her gritted teeth and he smiled a little too sour as he poured out a cup of coffee from the pot on the table and passed her the off-white mug, stained from too many years as a coffee cup to sloppy drinkers.
“How’d you sleep, princess?” he asked. “Leaving your door open for more strange men to shout your student credentials at?”