Tear Me Away (Desert Wraiths MC Romance)

by Kiss, Amy

  Tear Me Away

  Amy Kiss

  ©2014

  Amy Kiss

  Cover picture:

  ©2009

  Flickr.com: Frank Kovalchek

  All rights reserved.

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  Katie

  Tonight’s just another night.

  I studied myself in the bathroom mirror. The lights were off and under the moon’s shine, I look haunted. Like one of those old Victorian portraits of young women, now long dead. My face was pale, smooth and framed with luscious sweeps of dirty blonde hair that looked darker in the night. Lovely, if I could be honest. But my eyes seemed fixed somewhere else, even when I was looking right at myself. Like my true self was still some place far away.

  I thought of my friend Sandy and managed a smile that reached my eyes. With that, the full package wasn't all that bad. Solid B+. Not that I was going to let myself be graded tonight.

  I walked back through the warm but empty townhouse, breathing in these last moments of silence.

  Just another night, I told myself again.

  It wasn't though. If it was, I'd be curled up on my couch with something colorful and funny on the TV. Maybe Sandy would be lounging on the far end. The only commotion would be us laughing our butts off.

  Sandy was on her way over tonight, but we weren’t staying. She'd convinced me to leave my cave, for nothing less than a bar on the outskirts of town. A little bit of danger before sinking into the routine of a new semester of classes. That was her pitch, and after the hundredth time hearing it, I'd agreed.

  Blast some music on the way there. Grab a few drinks. Check out a few hot guys and be back safe and sound by midnight.

  My phone gave me five more minutes. I went to the dining room, and looked up to the picture of my parents. They beamed out at me, and for a flash I could see them seated at either end; the best kind of haunting.

  Their ghosts didn't linger like they used to. Another beat and there was just the picture, still as the wall around it.

  A long screech ripped through the house, and I nearly jumped out of my high heels. It went off again.

  Sandy was early. She was never early. This was an unsettling start to the night. What the hell did she have planned?

  I smiled at my parents, grabbed my purse and went out my porch door. Sandy was leaning across the passenger seat, waving madly. As if I was deaf and had just stumbled out here by accident.

  I took a deep breath. I’d be back to all this soon enough.

  It was just another night.

  I started down the porch.

  Ghost

  Tonight was the night.

  The desert air washed hot over me. I revved my faithful steed and cut through it even faster. Sand skittered across the road, a ghostly veil over my path. It didn't matter. I knew exactly where I was headed. This desert was home. Hell, I'd spent all my life in some desert or another. Here, Afghanistan, North Africa - one and the same.

  I checked my mirror, and saw the proud forms of my club brothers perched on their own choppers. Thick maned faces, stern and ready. One after the other.

  I saw myself, too. My hard lined face. My blond fuzz of hair, shorn every other week, by habit. And my eyes. Predator's eyes which had come into this world blue, but now went beyond that. They caught the reflections of the moon and glowed like an unearthly fire.

  I didn’t know what I was anymore, but I was something that went beyond nature. At night, the whole world could see what I’d become.

  Specters - we'd called each other back in my unit. The bikers in the Desert Wraiths motorcycle club weren't so up on their vocab. But they saw it too.

  Here, I was Ghost.

  Tonight, I was a vengeful spirit. Ever since I'd left service and come back home, I'd told myself nothing mattered. There was no good, no evil. Just the rules you kept and the ones you broke. The sort of thing you tell yourself to let go of years of discipline and run with a 1% biker gang. Selling drugs. Sleeping with girls who just wanted a discount on product. Dishing violence in the name of profit.

  Not this night though. Tonight all my training, all my service, all that I had learned would go into dealing with a man whose rules I could not abide. Whose rules should not be abided. They dealt pain and suffering to those who had already given up everything. After months of aimless days, drunken evenings and haunted nights, I finally had a chance for redemption. I remembered that I needed redeeming at all.

  This night, I had purpose.

  We turned a hill, and the city emerged, glowing below the star speckled sky.

  Tonight was the night I would find myself again.

  I revved once more and we roared on toward the twinkling lights below.

  Katie

  I wasn’t sure what I regretted more - letting Sandy drag me out here, or letting her leave with that so-called Hollywood stuntman. Why would a stuntman live here in Gilsner, four hours from LA.? I might be too drunk to walk but I didn't buy that story. But I wasn't Sandy. That poser had taken my best friend and left me alone in this rat's nest of a bar.

  Thank god she had left her keys. I didn’t have a license, technically, but I’d rather risk cops than the people here.

  I swept the room with a massive pair of beer goggles on. ‘Rough’ was too smooth a word for this place. I saw a women with spiky purple hair swirl her tongue down a guy's throat. I saw two men nod and pass a fistful of something between their jackets. I saw other faces, grizzled and hungry doing their own scan and meeting mine. I quickly looked down into my empty glass.

  The bar sat at the very edge of what Gilsner considered its township. Beyond were a few factories and warehouses, just outside the town. I guess it was some zoning or pollution thing. Past that was wide open desert and the sort of people who needed their privacy. In a way, the Roaring Pint was a sort of border crossing, where bikers met some of the shadier townsfolk for fun, fucking, and fighting.

  Sandy had described this place as the edge of civilization. Safe, but not too safe. You'd think after eight years of knowing her, I would have finally figured out how to listen to her words and not her voice. Maybe I did, but I owed her everything and more, so I went along anyway. And it was true, this place did help get me out of my head.

  By making me fear for my life.

  At least I had decided to stick with capris and a t-shirt instead of the microskirt that Sandy had tried to convince me to change into.

  I was trying to calculate how long I'd need to sober up when I heard the jangle of breaking glass. A more solid thud followed and I saw two guys topple on the other side of the bar, one yelping. Probably from landing on broken glass.

  It was only 11.

  Yeah, I could sober up just fine in Sandy’s car, a few blocks away. I grabbed my purse and stumbled past the fight, glad that it drew attention away. These high-heels weren't doing much to hide how drunk I was.

  A couple guys stared at me over lit cigarettes as I emerged outside. "Hey honey, you need a ride?" one asked with an easy smile. He wore a thick leather jacket with some logo that broke across the zipper, but he was clean and kinda cute.

  "That's sweet, but no." Even if I was in a mood to trust strangers, the last thing I ever wanted to do was get on a bike ever again. Not after what had happened to my parents.

  "If you like sweet why don't you come on over? I got a treat."

  Less sweet. I steadied myself, and quickly crossed the street when the signal turned. I tried to keep an eye on him as I pattered away. Somewhere through the beer, my brain knew that ja
ywalking wouldn't bother a guy who wanted a drunken prize, but I felt relieved anyway when the crossing light turned red.

  Until I realized I had no idea where we’d parked the car.

  This area had been packed 3 hours ago and we'd circled through a few times before Sandy had stolen a spot. They were all open now. People who worked here knew better than to linger too long after the sun set. I crossed a side street and saw the car all by itself so far away. I sighed and clopped towards it with drunken abandon. I completely forgot to keep an eye on my back.

  Fortunately no one followed me.

  Unfortunately, it wasn't my car.

  A coyote howled somewhere out in the empty beyond. I had a sudden burst of rage that made me kick the tires of this stranger's car and sent silent tears down my face. I just wanted to be home, safe and snug on my couch, watching some reality trash on Netflix. That was how I wanted to de-stress before heading back to another year of vet tech. Why oh why had I agreed to this?

  I collapsed against the driver door, too annoyed to move. Iron bars barred the view across the street, and stacks of cargo crates sat stacked up past it. I looked around and saw more makeshift red and blue metal towers. It was like I was in some maze.

  The moon shone past the cargo crates though. This wasn't all that bad a spot to chill out. I could pretend I was some trapped princess instead of a drunken moron. As long as the guy who drove this piece of crud didn't show up.

  Voices drifted through the dry air. I cursed myself for jinxing my luck. There was no one on the street, though.

  I popped my head up like a prairie dog. Through the car windows, I could see a couple guys walking through the cargo yard on the other side. They weren't workers, not with the thick leather jackets and ragged jeans. They also didn't look to be best friends.

  The smaller one, lean and sinewy, seemed to be fidgeting and talking a lot. He reminded me of a cartoon mouse. The other guy stood a foot above. His face looked hard and set, like it had been etched by the elements. He had blond hair cut short that glowed white in the moonlight. He wasn't doing anything to threaten the guy. He wasn't talking. Why bother? His body said enough.

  It was his eyes, though, that held my gaze. They shimmered, even as the moon shone steady. They made this hulk looked beyond human. Like a god.

  Not a nice one though.

  The two were about to disappear behind another stack of cargo, when the hulk set a hand on his companion’s shoulder. In my beer haze, the smaller guy actually turned to stone under that touch. The next moment, he was water, trying to wiggle away, but the hulk's hands had gripped, ever so slightly. That was enough.

  "Listen." The mouse’s voice had become shrill enough to make out. "I'm sorry, OK? I'm sorry."

  The hulk said nothing.

  "I told your men a lie and I'm sorry."

  A gust of wind answered him.

  "I'll give you a discount, huh? No I'll get you free supply." His voice went low, conspiratorial.

  His back was to me now, and I could see him slowly pull a gun from his waistband.

  I was going to see a murder. I had known the moment I saw them, but now I knew who was killing who. I should yell or scream, but there wasn’t a person around. More than that, I felt this bizarre urge to see what those strange blue eyes would make of the gun. My breath came to a complete stop as it came loose off the belt.

  The next part made no sense without the alcohol. The gun came up right against the hulk's temple.

  The hulk disappeared. He returned, except now he had the gun. I blinked a few times as if that would jog my memory.

  "No. No no no." The mouse was whimpering now, turning away, as if the bullet could only find him if he looked.

  "Ok," the hulk said, in a rich and deep voice. The gun went clattering across the pavement.

  The mouse peered back at the sound. He looked at the hulk's empty hand.

  A knife simply appeared in it. It flashed in the moonlight.

  It returned coated in something dark.

  I blinked. Now the knife hilt stuck out of the mouse’s throat. He gurgled and went staggering towards the fence. Towards me. His eyes searched everywhere, and then they saw me. His mouth opened, and I scrabbled back, away from this thing that was a man. The hulk watched from behind. Under that gaze, his eyes cast the rest of his face in shadow. I hugged the street before he could see me.

  Everything remained silent. When I looked up again, the hulk was gone. There was only the sound of something wet beginning to dribble down the curb.

  I listened to the blood flow, wanting nothing more than to leave this place and its stillness. That was death, wasn't it? The lack of motion in a person's life, in a person’s chest, inside her heart. I had seen animals die. I had delivered death even, sobbing as I stuck in the needle, but it was the silence that I found so eerie. That empty space, where a life once was.

  Well, I got rescued from that. Voices returned. Two new ones with the occasional interjection from that deep and sinewy one I'd heard once before. The killer.

  "Make sure you check the crates for blood smears," he said.

  "The fuck I look like, a maid?" one of the new voices asked.

  "Hell, no," another voice said. "You look like shit, is what."

  "Aw go fuck yourself. And fuck you, Ghost. It's your mess. You wipe it."

  "It's our mess, Twist," the killer said. "You looking to get the club arrested? Is that what I tell Nico?"

  I really wanted to see, but all I could imagine was peeking over and seeing the dead man coming towards me through the bars, hands clutching at his throat. Instead, I found my phone,switched it to night mode and snaked it up to the window.

  No dead man. Just three dudes in leather jackets. The pale killer stood a couple inches taller than the next, but his body seemed completely at rest while others fidgeted.

  The first new guy swore off into the sky. "Why couldn't I kill him and you clean up?"

  The killer shrugged. It looked like two peaks rising out of a mountain "Cause you didn't."

  "Fine, fuck it, whatever. We'll take care of it."

  The killer nodded and looked out at the body. His eyes glowed red on-screen for a moment, and I shivered though the air was pretty warm. Then his eyes lifted up, and for a moment he was looking right at the lens. I fought the urge to yank it out of view. After a moment, his gaze left.

  Then he left. The other two grumbled and came toward the fence. I was ready for them to pull out garbage bags, but they just pulled out the glistening knife, propped the dead guy up and began winding a white bandage round his neck.

  "Christ, man, that’s enough. You dressing him up for Halloween?"

  "You want him to be leaking blood if a cop sees us?"

  "If a cop is close enough to see blood under a helmet, we're gonna have to ice him anyway so who cares."

  I should be recording this. I had seen a murder, but this was video proof. I could just turn it in and walk away.

  I pulled the phone back to make sure the sound was turned off. I clicked on the recording and put it back so the red light didn't show.

  The two bikers wiped down the place and then poured something bleach smelling all over the place. The dead guy sat against a crate like he was resting from a neck sprain.

  "Hey you go get that stuff outside," one of the bikers said. "I'll mop up the rest of this here."

  Outside?

  Oh no.

  One of the guys landed heavy on the pavement, just on the other side of the car. His tobacco smell hit me and I nearly peeed myself. It had felt like I was watching TV before, but now this was real. This was Poltergeist and they were here.

  Maybe I should just pretend I was passed out over here. But these guys had no problem with murder. What was a little rape on top of that? Even better if she didn’t remember.

  The biker poured some more bleach on the other side of the car, completely oblivious. He would reach under soon, and see me. I pocketed my phone and shuffled behind a wheel, right before
his hands began scrubbing under the car.

  "Aw shit." His voice boomed under the car. "Man, it's all under here."

  "That's his car, dummy," the other biker called out. "We gotta move it anyway."

  I heard the jingle of keys.

  His car. The dead guy's car.

  "We go dump him first and then get that shit. Ain't no one coming round here for hours."

  I sighed in relief.

  The scrubbing stopped.

  A long electric silence passed. The scrubbing started again, and this time I stayed damn quiet.

  "Yo, I told you we'd do the car after."

  "I'm just doing the edges before they sink into the cracks and go brown."

  "Well all right then, Martha Stewart."

  “Fuck you.”

  The guy by me stuffed something into plastic then stood and stretched loudly. I twisted my head and saw his massive fist heading toward me across the car hood.

  There are times you can see a move is stupid, but you do it anyway. Especially when your brain’s drunk.

  I tried to shuffle away, tripped over my own purse and smacked into the asphalt.

  When I picked my head up, a hairy face was sneering down on it. "Well, what's your name sweetie?" his ugly mouth asked.

  "I didn't see anything," I said.

  "Oh." He looked actually sad for a moment. "Then that's not what you should have said."

  I staggered to my feet and began trying to run. Put one foot in front of the other anyway, but the beer was not adjusting to the change of the height and I just ended up staggering sideways into the car door. The biker stood where he was, just grinning. Animals only grinned before they attacked. That’s what that thing in leather was. I took off again, knowing it was useless, knowing I had no other options.

  "Twist, just grab her and let's go."

  I didn't even hear him come up. His hands were just at my waist and then I was going backwards. I screamed, and he cupped my mouth. He tasted like poison and blood. He thrust me up against the bars.