Unexpected: Desert Knights MC

by Paula Cox

  After a few tries, the car is out and blasting off towards the exit for the highway. I keep my eyes straight on the road, too afraid to say anything to Anton as he takes this car to speeds it most likely has never seen. Every once in awhile, as we weave in and out of the light, evening traffic, Anton looks back, his eyes peering out into the distance as he studies those we’ve passed by.

  Two miles in, and he gives me the bad news. “Your brother. He’s about five car lengths back. I can tell by the sound of that engine.”

  “What? Anton? What are we supposed to do? Can we call the cops or something?” I too turn back over my shoulder, trying to see what Anton can see through the rear window. All I see are the cars just passing distance behind me. Their drivers faces are muted behind the black screens.

  “No. We have to outrun him, find somewhere safe to go. What happened back at your house, Tory? Would it be safe to go there?”

  As soon as he mentioned my home, I flash back to my mother stabbing my father, my brother rummaging the house for me, the banging of the door as we hid behind the bedroom. Everything in me tenses and panics all at the same time as I try to find the words to express just what a war zone my life had become.

  “No. It’s not. My dad tried to kill my mom and me. She saved my life. She broke a window with her own hands and made enough time for me to escape. And then she attacked my dad with a large glass shard.” I pause to look at my hands which are shaking uncontrollably. “I don’t know if he’s alive or dead or if she made it out of there. I…”

  My voice trails away as I break down in sobs, horrible wailing sobs. I know that I shouldn’t be doing this. I need to control myself. This isn’t the time to wonder what life was supposed to be like or feel my mother’s pain as my own. This was the time to concentrate on our escape and our present danger. But I can’t stop myself. The tears flow down like rivers into a stream. Without losing his sight of the road or the cars behind him, Anton reaches towards me, his large hand practically covering my face as he searches for the tears. They flow to his hands, his palm catching them one by one until I can brush him away.

  Anton clears his voice as he says, “Listen, your brother is gaining on us, and we’re about to hit Senator’s territory. I’ve got a friend, a higher up with their club, who may be able to help us out. I need you to be my lookout. Tell me if he gets within two cars of us. Got it?” I nod quickly as I turn all the way around, facing the back of the car.

  Anton takes out his phone and presses a few silent buttons. He puts it on speaker as we continue to drive straight north. Finally, a man’s grumbly voice comes over the speakers, “Anton, what the hell do you want?”

  “Arie, I need you. You know how you said that if I heard anything going down, I’d give you a call? Well, big shit is happening man. I’m leading a takeover of the Knights.” I’m almost shocked at his bravado, but I know this is part of the gang. He can’t sound concerned or frightened. He had to be the motorcycle club man now, not the Anton I know.

  “What? Are you serious? What’s happened to the Walsh guys? You take them out.”

  “No.” Anton replies quickly as he looks back at me with an apologetic look. I’m honestly not sure how I want to feel in that moment. “From what I know from sources, Walsh’s wife went crazy and stabbed him. Now Brandon started a gunfight with me and my men in the desert just about twenty minutes ago. He managed to get away but is chasing me and his sister down the highway towards your line.”

  “I knew you were screwing her!”

  “It’s a little more than that, Arie. I got to get her and me out of this if we want the Knights to have new leadership. You in?”

  There’s a long pause and the faint sound of him talking to someone else in the room. Anton’s hands wrap tighter around the steering wheel as he waits for his reply. Finally, he speaks. “Send me your coordinates via text. I’ll send some riders out to tail you and hopefully chase off that little asshole.”

  “How will I know it’s your guys? I mean, you know Walsh has an army of you at his fingertips. I think we even killed a few of them back at that battle. There needs to be a signal or something.”

  My mind reels as I think of what he has just told me. A gun battle? With my brother? And people died? Did they die for me? Am I responsible for this? I know that there are so many more things going on that I probably will never understand as an outsider looking in, but my heart darkens and cools at the thought of having blood on my hand, even if it was all of my father and brother’s faults.

  “I’ll tell them to flash their lights three times fast. That should be enough. What car are you riding in?”

  “An old Cadillac. It belongs to the Walsh wife, Maureen. Cali license plate. I’m about two miles outside of exit 25, if that helps.”

  “I’ll tell them to keep an eye out for it. I know we’ve got some runners out there now that would probably help me out if I can pull some strings. I just won’t tell them who’s in the car. Plus, killing a Walsh boy is like putting a head up on our trophy wall. Maybe I’ll put a bounty out for him. Money always motivates.”

  “That won’t be necessary, Arie.” Anton again looks at me and then away. He shouldn’t be ashamed. The more I hear about what my brother has done and how I think of him hunting us down, the more I am with Arie on this one. There is no love between a brother and sister this dark.

  “Thanks man. You know, there’s always a seat at the table for you if you decide you want to come running again with the Knights.”

  He laughs a bit as he adds darkly, “That’s if the Knights survive, Anton. My man Ace and I are going to take bets on who comes out of this alive -- you or that little twerp Walsh. Then again, I put good odds on you if you’re out there riding for some tail piece.”

  Anton hangs up as we listen to Arie laugh loudly at his own jokes. My face goes blush red as I fall back into the seat. But as my eyes open again, I notice something distinct in the headlights. A motorcycle -- one car behind us. It weaves out into the emergency lane as the car behind us slows and moves over, unaware of the danger it just put us in.

  “Anton! He’s here! He’s right behind us!” I watch helplessly as Anton turns around and then back towards the road. The car lurches forward and pulls into the middle lane of the highway.

  “Take the gun and get it ready. I want you to duck down. And if tell you to fire, you just lift your arm out and shoot. I’ll tell you the direction. You got me?” He looks back down at me as I begin to unbuckle and crouch towards the floor of the ground, the gun still wrapped in my hand as it rests on the passenger seat. “We’re going to get through this, Tory. Don’t you worry.”

  As the lanes of traffic open up, Anton suddenly presses down hard on the gas and my body flies forwards in the small space between the floor and the seat. The gun flies out of my hand and gets stuck between the seats. While I search, my hands clawing around gently for the gun, careful not to pull a trigger, I hear the first pops of a gun that isn’t mine or Anton’s.

  Anton doesn’t even look towards the noise. He continues to drive forward, pushing towards that line where those Senators may have our backs. A bullet hits our window, shattering it into a million pieces in the backseat. Suddenly, death is as about as close as it has ever been. Another bullet lands just high of where I was previously sitting and breaks through the windshield, though it doesn’t rain glass like the back.

  Anton calls out from the commotion of the road, the tires wailing, and the streaks of gunshots towards me, “Tory, I need you to shoot. Don’t stand up, just kneel and point back and to the left.” I hesitate standing up as I manage to pull the gun out from between the seat and the dashboard. He yells louder, “Tory! Now!”

  My hand flies out the window, gun in place. I feel the cold, heavy trigger between my finger as I fire towards the direction he had told me. The pressure of the gun firing throws my arm back as I struggle to regain my balance and go for another round. The blood surges through my body and through my weapon as I shoot again.


  “I’m going to turn off here! Don’t shoot!” Anton swings the car around through the lanes of traffic to an exit I don’t immediately recognize. The entire car feels like it is flying as it twists and circles on its own tires. A car nearby honks wildly as if to tell us what we already know. And as it straightens, I pull myself back up to my knees, the gun ready for its next shots.

  As we fly through the circular turnoff, I hear the roar of my brother’s motorcycle even louder. The attempt to throw him off wasn’t nearly as successful. Anton pulls the car faster, hugging the curve even tighter. But I don’t wait for him to tell me to shoot. I duck behind the seat and fire another two shots.

  There’s a loud bang and a deafening release. The car shakes and bumps, and I lose grip of the gun. It goes flying out of my hand and to the ground under us as the car awkwardly stops and begins to roll. I look over at Anton with a face gaunt with fear. “What was that? Was that our tire!”

  “The son of a bitch shot out the tire. We can’t go much further. Get into the back seat and lay on the floor. Don’t make a sound or movement.”

  “But the gun, Anton! What are we supposed to do!” I reach out and touch the leg of his pant, searching for some form of comfort in this moment. “I can’t lose you.”

  “Tory…” He says, his breath picking up speed. His blue eyes stare down at me, frosty and smooth as he turns the steering wheel off to the side and puts the car in park. “I love you. I love you and that baby so much. No matter what happens to me, you protect that child.”

  Anton touches my face with the palm of his hand before opening the driver side door. I creep towards the backseat and peek my head just slightly out of the window. Though I can’t see him, I hear my brother’s motorcycle diminish to a stop. Anton’s body becomes illuminated by his headlight as neither move. And then, in one life changing second, Anton falls fast to the ground.

  Chapter 28: Razor Edge

  “Anton!” I hear her blood curdling scream before I can stop her. There’s a slam of the car door and the rush of feet towards me. I struggle to stand back up, but the pain is too much and Tory is too quick for me. And by the sound of laughter just in the distance, I know that it’s already too late. Brandon has spotted her.

  “You stupid girl! Dad always said you had nothing up there. Those assholes at your school may think you’re the shit -- some kind of goodie-two-shoe genius. But I always knew that you would end up dead. I just didn’t think I’d have the pleasure of doing it!”

  She stops cold in her step, just feet from where I am lying. I try to lift my head towards her, but she can’t see me. She’s staring straight at the barrel of his gun as it points at her head. “No…” She cries out dryly. “Please don’t do this.”

  “Don’t worry, sis. I’m going to make you wait. First, I’m going to finish off this bastard first. And I’m going to do it slow, a bullet for each body party until he’s bled out in front of you. And once he’s good and gone, I’ll make sure you go next.” He walks towards me slowly, and though my eyes are shut tight, my head turned to the side, I know that he is studying me like a butcher about to do his job. “Maybe I’ll start with his arms first…”

  He takes another step towards me as he leans over my body. This is my one and only shot. Though the pain shoots through the bullet wound in my side, I manage to whip my arm around, grabbing him by his foot. His body slams around and then towards the ground. Somewhere in the chaos, the gun goes off and I wait for the pain to hit me again.

  I hear the clatter of the gun going off before I hear his body hit. The black and silver handgun flies just to my other side. Brandon’s chunky but agile body crawls over me for it, his weight pressing down on my entry wound. I cry out in pain, bringing a stoney Tory back to life. She sprints over towards me and grabs the gun from the ground just as Brandon’s clawing hands manage to reach the handle.

  He continues to roll over on me, pressing me into the dirt as he leaps towards his sister. I grab at him, feeling my way through the inside of his button down shirt, the pockets of his pants, and the holster around his ankle until he’s completely off of me. I manage to roll over to see him crawling towards his sister as she takes steps backwards towards the car.

  His breath races as he hunches over. His entire body seems to cave in and puff out as if he is attempting to make himself the giant she imagines him to be. Brandon licks his lips before saying, “What do you think you’re going to do with that gun, Tory? Shoot me? You don’t have it in you. You don’t even know how to fire that thing.”

  Tory places the gun up to eye height and points it straight at his head. “Back off, Brandon. Back off. I will do it. I will kill you. You don’t threaten my family and get away with it.”

  “‘Your family?’ You really think that his asshole is your family? Come on Tory, we both know there’s only one reason a guy like him would touch a girl like you -- he wanted this all along. You can’t change who you are. You’re a Walsh just like me. Just like dad.”

  “No. That’s not true.” I watch helplessly from the ground, crawling towards where Brandon is slowly charging towards her. Tory attempts to release the safety, but the mechanism won’t budge. It just clicks and clicks while the trigger jams.

  “It is true. You’ll never be more than that Walsh girl who betrayed her family and got knocked up like a common little slut. But if you hand me that gun, I could work out a deal. I could spare your life considering you’re carrying that little bastard niece or nephew of mine. Hell, I may even let you get a head start out of the state.”

  She looks back towards me as I wither in pain two feet from Brandon’s feet. “What about Anton?”

  “What about him? You think he can keep you safe? I shot him in the stomach. He’s already a dead man. All you need to worry about right now is saving your own skin, and I’m giving you an out.” He reaches out his hand, palm facing up as he commands her, “Hand over the gun. Do it, Tory. Give it to me.”

  Tory pauses, the gun lowering to her side. The silence of the desert takes us all over as we wait for something, anything to happen. It’s Brandon who breaks through. When Tory doesn’t move quick enough for him, he runs at her, both hands out in front of his chest. She screams as she tries to flee.

  But what Brandon doesn’t see is how far I have managed to crawl through the dirt. If he would have looked behind me, he would have seen the bloody trail, the marks of my body as it went through dust and earth by the strength of my own hands. Instead, he feels my force first as I again pull him down to the ground by his hips. He falls under me, his hands raised in shock.

  His hazel colored eyes light up as the taillight of his motorcycle catches the razor edge of the knife I took from his own back pocket. He opens his mouth just wide enough to get words out, but I don’t give him a chance this time to talk. I don’t give him the pleasure of last words. I dive his own knife straight into his side, the same place where his bullet hit me, and drag it along the side of his ribs until it sticks in the inside of his hips. From the pool of blood that immediately forms, I know I have hit the artery. I give the knife one last, dramatic twist before pulling it up and out.

  Brandon falls backwards, his hands still raised by his head. His body shakes slightly as it rolls to the side. I stand up from under him, giving him the space he needs to die. When I rise, I turn towards Tory who is cowered at the door of the car as she stares at her blood soaked brother and boyfriend.

  “Anton,” She finally cries, still unmoving. “What have we done?”

  I try to take a step towards her, but I fall to the side, hitting my knees. The wound in my side is still spitting out blood as I examine it through the large circle in my shirt. Tory rushes to my side, taking my hands in hers. She studies my hands first, and I wonder whose blood she is actually looking over. Tears stream down from her porcelain face, mixing with the dirt and grime that cover my arms and chest.

  “Tory, I’m going to be okay. We’re going to be okay. We did what we had to do. But w
e need to go. We need to get out of here.” She nods as she places my arm around her neck. While I know she can’t manage to carry me, I still let her try. The weight of me falls and tumbles over her as I try my best to control the limbs I can’t feel over the pulsating pain.

  She manages to get me about twenty feet, my legs dragging as she does her best to push, pull, and carry me back towards the car. Finally, she sets me down into her lap as she looks down at me helplessly. From behind, her brown hair becomes a halo. A dozen beams of light point straight at us as the night lights up with the flashing headlights. Almost in unison, they signal three times fast -- the Senators have arrived.

  “Anton? Is that you?” A familiar voice calls out from behind the lights as the hum of the swarm of motorcycles quiets down one by one. “What the hell is going on out there?”