Temper: Road Roses MC

by Ada Stone

  I was about to open my mouth and protest. There were probably bugs in the bed, holes in the wall, and all kinds of diseases in the bathroom. But then Tyler pulled up next to a parked red truck that I recognized instantly.

  “Oh my god, Chris!”

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Tyler grin. “See? Told you.”

  I blinked, glancing from the truck to Tyler and back to the truck again. I was overcome with relief. My brother was here and alive! That must have been who Tyler was talking to on the phone at the gas station! Chris was probably calling to tell him for us to come and join him. For a second, I was just so happy that I leaned over and threw my arms around Tyler, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

  He was momentarily surprised, but then I felt his hands reach for my waist and his head turn so that his mouth was aimed for mine. I pulled back quickly, realizing my mistake instantly, but did my best to play it off as just excitement to see my brother. Which it was. Flashing a bright smile at Tyler, I quickly popped open the passenger door and hopped out, racing to the truck. “Chris?” I called eagerly. “Chris, where are you?”

  I heard a door slam, and turned to see Tyler getting out and jogging over to me. I thought I heard him curse. “Would you shut up already?”

  My eyes got wide as I looked at him. I didn’t think he’d ever told me to shut up before. “I just…” I just want to see my brother, I finished in my head.

  He raked another hand through his hair. “Sorry. It’s just, we’re kinda in hiding, you know?”

  I bit my lip, feeling ashamed. I nodded.

  He put his hand on the small of my back, pushing me away from the truck and towards the line of doors that marked the hotel rooms. I almost squirmed away from his touch, not wanting his hand there, but decided that would be rude. Tyler didn’t mean anything by it.

  We walked all the way to the end of the corridor to the lobby where a bored looking attendant sat behind a small, rickety desk. There was a little squishy toy frog posted on the desk with a taped message saying “Push me” on it instead of a bell and the inside of the lobby smelled like a weird mixture of fish and old feet. Definitely not a good smell. What was worse, they had one of those air freshener things in the room which spouted some awful, fruity tropical pineapple smell into the air, too, but not enough to cover up the bad smells.

  It was enough to make my stomach roil, and I thought for a moment I was going to throw up again. It was only the knowledge that my brother was here somewhere and we’d only have to be in the lobby for a moment that kept me from racing to the nearest bathroom or outside. I wasn’t about to be picky.

  “Excuse me, sir?” I asked, getting the attention of the brown haired man behind the counter.

  With lazy, annoyed eyes, he looked up at me. “What?”

  Rude, I thought, but pushed it aside. I wanted to be nice to get this guy to be helpful. Smiling brightly at him, I asked, “Have you seen the owner of that red truck out there?” I pointed to where Chris’s truck was. “He’s a guest here and we’re supposed to meet him. Can you tell us where to go?”

  The man let out a long, obnoxious sigh, like I’d just asked him to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders and walk across the Sahara Desert or something. I really didn’t like him much, but I was trying so hard to stay calm and pleasant.

  He turned to his ancient computer, which was actually so old it still had that black background with the green letters on it. I didn’t even think you could still use those. He typed something in and the computer beeped. He typed in something else. Then he waited and waited, staring at the screen with boredom written across his features. After what felt like eternity—I’d begun breathing through my mouth, but then imagined that I could taste the fish and the feet smell, and that was so much worse—he finally turned to me and said, “One oh two. Opposite end of here. They go in reverse order.”

  Then, without another word, he turned away from us, propped his feet up on the opposite counter, and flipped open a magazine like we weren’t even there at all.

  I shared a look with Tyler who was staring at the man in disgust, then led the way out of that room and back to fresh air. As soon as the door closed behind us, I breathed in deep. Thank God.

  Tyler pushed ahead and led the way to the room at the other end. We almost reached the door, excitement building inside me, but then Tyler began to slow, his pacing turning into little more than a crawl. I was getting impatient, so I moved to pass him, to race to the door, but his arm shot out and caught me before I could. I whirled around to look at him in surprise, my eyes wide.

  “Wait,” he said, not quite meeting my eyes. He looked nervous about something. “Maybe we should just get our own room first, you know? Then we can call Chris and—”

  I stared at him like he was crazy. My brother was right there! Mere feet away! And get our own room? Something in me shuddered at the thought, and it wasn’t in a good way. We’d had sleepovers before, slept in the same room, done the same things, spent whole days together before, but somehow things had changed. Now the idea of sharing a single room with Tyler seemed… well, not like a good idea.

  I didn’t know why.

  Focusing on my brother instead, I shook off Tyler’s grip and said, “Are you crazy? Chris is right through that door!”

  Tyler opened his mouth to say something else, but I wasn’t listening. I raced for Chris’s door, banging on it impatiently as soon as I did. I heard Tyler mutter something but didn’t catch what it was. I didn’t care.

  “Chris! It’s me! Open up!” I continued to pound.

  Finally, the door jerked open and my brother was standing there, blonde hair and blue eyes. The same way he’d always looked. My brother, the one I knew. Not a criminal, not a murderer. Just my brother. I was about to rush into his arms, when I noticed the scowl on his face. My expression dropped.

  He cursed, poking his head out of the door and looking around quickly. He spotted Tyler and glared at him. I noticed Tyler shrug out of the corner of my eye and wondered if maybe it hadn’t been Chris on the other end of the phone earlier that day after all.

  When Chris seemed satisfied that it was only us, he reached out and grabbed me by the upper arms. I winced at his grip, his fingers digging in slightly to my flesh. He jerked me inside. Tyler was there a second later and then the door was closed behind the both of us. Chris released me with a shove. I half stumbled, half fell onto the bed, surprised by the sudden release, my eyes wide.

  “Chris, what’s—?”

  But he wasn’t listening. Interrupting, he demanded, “What the hell are you doing here?”

  His eyes were flashing, almost menacing, and for a second I thought I was completely wrong. This wasn’t my brother. This wasn’t the boy I’d grown up with. In fact, this was a complete and total stranger standing right in front of me. I felt tears prick behind my eyes at the thought, but I pushed them aside. I had to focus.

  “We… we ran away,” I told him, glancing over at Tyler. “Because of… of Alexei. You know, the guy who—”

  But I didn’t have to explain. Chris paled the moment I mentioned Alexei’s name, telling me he knew exactly who was after him. I frowned. How did Chris even know Alexei’s name? And why was he so angry?

  “Shit,” Chris cursed, threading his hands through his hair and gripping it so tightly I was worried they’d pull back with blonde chunks clutched between the fingers.

  My heart thumped, almost painfully. I stared at my brother, then glanced at Tyler. He was looking around the room, looking casual. Like maybe he knew something and didn’t want to talk about it.

  I swallowed hard. Licking my suddenly too dry lips, I returned my attention to Chris. “What did you do, Chris?” I whispered, dread pooling in my gut. I worried that he wouldn’t tell me. I worried that he would.

  Taking a shuddering breath, he looked over at me, aiming his gaze just a little off from my eyes. “You won’t have to worry about Alexei anymore. None of us will.”

  Chapter
Twenty-Six

  Alexei

  The first thing I noticed was the ache. It was all over my body, beginning at my jaw and moving outwards in throbs that felt like blood trying too hard to pump through my system.

  My head pounded, a splitting, blistering headache making it difficult for me to focus on anything else. For a moment, I just had to endure it, let it throb and pound and flood my system with awful, wracking pain. It was dreadful, to say the least.

  The pain didn’t subside, but as I grew used to it, it became easier for me to focus. I began to attempt to figure out where I was, what was going on, and whether or not it was intelligent for me to move.

  As I followed the catalogue of my aches, I found that my shoulders were sore as though I’d just come from the gym and worked until I tore muscle. My neck was in a similar state, stiff enough that I wasn’t thrilled with the thought of moving it. I left that still and alone for now, hoping that with time it would ease out a bit itself. Traveling lower, I noticed that my ribs were sore—I’d likely been kicked, perhaps when I was unconscious—and below that, I felt stiffness in my legs. They felt less as though someone had kicked them, however, and more as though they’d been left in a single, uncomfortable position for so long.

  I hadn’t opened my eyes just yet. The pounding in my head, though slowly becoming more tolerable, cautioned against that and I definitely didn’t want to make it worse. I tried moving all of my limbs, making sure there was nothing too badly damaged, and found that everything seemed to more or less be working just fine. Maybe I didn’t feel great, but at least I wasn’t broken—or dead.

  The thought raced through me, bringing the softest tinge of cold with it.

  I was a hitman. I wasn’t afraid to die. But that didn’t mean I relished the idea. There were people out there who had a death wish, who stared it in the face, watched it and even waited for it, baited it until it came for them like a raging bull. But that wasn’t me. I liked this living thing.

  Shaking off the thought of death—well, my death, anyway—I forced my eyes open. They felt grainy and a little rough, like I’d just gotten out of the ocean or been asleep for a day.

  How long have I been unconscious?

  As soon as the thought hit me, I snapped my eyes the rest of the way open, ignoring the pounding of my headache. I jerked myself up into a sitting position, realizing just how bad things could be.

  “Shit,” I said out loud, realizing that it was already dark out. The day had shifted, leaving me behind, and now Christopher could be anywhere. Had he been the one to attack me? I had to assume so, though there was a chance it could have been someone else. His buddy, Jason maybe, or even that asshole Tyler guy who was so interested in my Susanna.

  I doubted that last one, but acknowledged that there was a possibility for it. I doubted he was involved with Christopher and Jason and their ill planned heist, but there was a chance that he’d followed me while I trailed Christopher and tried to get rid of me.

  Looking around, I took in my surroundings. It looked like I was in a ditch somewhere. Beneath me, the earth was moist, soft, not quite muddy, but not dry either. It smelled almost fresh, like rain had hit recently. Looking past the ditch, or up over the side of it anyway, from what I could see from my seated position, there was nothing but trees surrounding me.

  I frowned. How far had Christopher gone to dump me?

  Struggling to my feet, ignoring the ache in my limbs and the dull throb of my ribs, not to mention the sharp jabbing pains in my head, I thought things through. Madison was heavily wooded, so there was a chance I was still in town. But if Christopher—assuming, of course, he was the culprit—had half a brain in his head, he’d have gone at the very least to the edge of town. Far from him and his truck.

  Or maybe he’s already moved on from Madison, I thought gravely.

  I cursed again. I would have to call Yegor back and figure out if the truck was still there. I searched myself and found that I no longer had my gun, nor my wallet. My phone was missing also, which actually made me angrier than the rest. The gun was easy—I had another in my car, which I hadn’t parked at the motel, so it would be safe from whoever attacked me—and I had spare cash, IDs, and credit cards there as well. But the phone? That was a direct line to Vinny and to Yegor. I wasn’t overly concerned that whoever had taken the phone would have the balls to call either of them, but I didn’t like the idea of not being able to get ahold of them.

  Especially since I wanted to know where that damn truck was.

  Sighing in exasperation, I resolved to climb out of the ditch and get a better idea of where I was. The earth was soft, making it difficult to climb up out of the ditch, my feet and hands sinking into the moist dirt as I struggled to climb. But eventually, I managed to get out. I found that, while trees had most definitely been directly next to me on one side, the other side was lined with road. At least I wouldn’t have to look for that.

  I walked in a short circle, trying to get my bearings. It was more difficult with no sun to go by. Then I stopped when I saw the sign. Welcome to Madison.

  The dipshit had dropped me outside of town, right along the side of the road and just outside a sign that would tell me exactly where I needed to go.

  I had initially thought that it was moronic for someone to leave me so close to Madison, right along a road, with a clear direction of where I needed to go. Then I realized that, though Madison was very small, it was spread out. And since it was so small, there wasn’t a damn car on the road. I was headed in the general direction of my car, but I’d been walking for at least an hour now and it felt like I hadn’t made a damn bit of progress. The only thing different about the scenery was that I could no longer see the sign letting me know that I was entering Madison.

  I hadn’t seen a single car in that whole time and I was starting to realize that I was very far behind. Whoever had hit me—my money was still on Christopher—was far ahead of me, and even if it wasn’t Christopher who had attacked me, there was no question that he would be long gone by the time I reached the damn motel again, much less by the time I got to my car and the gun I had stashed there.

  I had about resigned myself to several more hours of walking, when I saw the lights flash. My first instinct, given that I’d just been attacked, was to run. And run fast. If I dove out of the way, then maybe the driver wouldn’t see me. But then I made a quick decision: I didn’t care if they saw me. If they did and it was my attacker, then good. Maybe they’d come after me, get into a car accident, or drive off the road, or maybe just stop to try and finish me off. In that sort of a fight, I would win. They had gotten the drop on me before, but not this time.

  Standing my ground, I stared at the car that came closer and closer. Car, I thought suddenly, not truck. So it wasn’t Christopher. Maybe his buddy, Jason. Maybe Tyler. Maybe someone else entirely who just seemed to hate my guts for no reason. But not Christopher.

  The car slowed down, pulling towards the side of the road. After a moment, it stopped completely and the passenger side window began to roll down.

  I bent forward to see who was inside and found a kindly, if slightly worn face staring back at me. He looked like some middle aged man from the counter, that small town, open-faced look plastered across his almost dull seeming features. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was a farmer.

  “Well, hello there,” he greeted, his eyes widening slightly. “You look to be in quite a shape, young man!”

  I glanced down at myself and for the first time really considered how I must look. I was covered in mud from the ditch, my clothing rumpled and even torn in spots, probably from the roll down into the ditch. My hair was likely wild, mussed, and probably dirty, too. I didn’t need to be told that my face likely was already starting to swell with bruises and probably was already beginning to discolor into sickly yellow and plum purple. Gingerly, I touched my lip, remembering that I’d bled there, too.

  I must look like death warmed over, I thought.

  Taking a deep
breath, I tried to be calm and project a friendliness that I wasn’t feeling. I wanted to hurt things, but I somehow doubted that this small town man was interested in picking up someone like that. And I instantly had decided that I wanted a ride.

  Quickest way into town.

  “I, uh, had some issues with my car,” I said finally. Not even remotely the truth, but I couldn’t exactly explain what had really happened. “And unfortunately, I left my phone in the hotel room where I’m staying. I could really use a ride there.”

  The man’s eyebrows rose, showing wrinkles and spots of gray hair here and there. He considered me a moment longer, his eyes taking in my weathered appearance once more before answering me. “Well, I certainly can’t leave you like this. Where you staying?”

  “The Ranch Hand Inn.”

  He smiled, then shook his head. “Well, hell, a good night’s sleep there probably won’t make you feel better, but it won’t make you worse.” He laughed at himself. “Probably looks about as bad as you do. But c’mon in. I’ll give you a lift. Headed that general way myself anyhow.”