Unexpected: Desert Knights MC

by Paula Cox

  “You know it. That’s how I roll.” He pulls the shirt over his thick abs and arms and then tucks it in around the front. Purposefully sloppy – now that’s something I just don’t understand.

  I brace myself. I’m going in, “You do this with all your motorcycle girls?”

  He looks at me, his head cocked to the side as he thinks of how to proceed, “I get around, if that’s what you’re asking. It’s part of the job description.” He must sense me coiling away from that, because he quickly adds, “But it’s like I said, I ain’t had that good of a fuck in a goddamn long-ass time…”

  Cal sits back down next to me and places his head on my shoulder. Another arm wraps around my waist and then under my panties. I feel the rough tip of his index finger find my wet and worn slit as he massages around it. His hot, sweet breath against my neck makes every bit of me tingle in anticipation.

  I can sense he’s about to say something else when I watch his head dart up. Like a dog on alert, he’s heard or spotted something. And his reflexes are back at it again. Before I can figure out what is going on, he’s on his feet and at the door.

  My heart begins to race as I run to my feet and grab the dress on the floor. I've got just enough time to pull it over me and zip up the back about half way when I hear it – the sound of footsteps on the stairs.

  He turns and whispers to me urgently as he grabs the lights, “Shit! Don’t say a fucking word. Just let me talk. Okay?”

  I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat that has been there since I walked in the door nearly two hours ago. I tense up and flinch as I hear the pounding of fists on the door. Someone is shouting Cal’s name, but it’s muffled over the sound from downstairs. Cal walks over and places an ear to the door. After a second, and without hesitation, he flings it open. A bald man with face tattoos is staring back at him, his eyes burning with anger and excitement. When he sees me, he bristles, his back arching and his eyes leering at me.

  Without looking away, he demands, “What the fuck are you doing up here, Cal? Jager’s been looking for you.” His voice is grisly and suspicious. Something about him tells me that he’s not Cal’s best friend in this club.

  “I’m coming down, Ryan. I just had to make sure Maddie was okay. Give me a second.”

  The man doesn’t. Instead, he walks inside, stepping over Cal’s leg. He comes closer to me, examining me. I know I should look away, like how they warn you to never stare a rabid dog in the eye, but I’m not one to back down either. And if I’ve learned anything from dealing with Cal, it’s that it’s better to stand my ground than run and hide.

  After a long, agonizing second, Ryan turns back to Cal, his arms outstretched towards me, “Who’s the bitch? And what’s she doing here?”

  “She’s Maddie’s teacher. She came over for a teacher conference. I was asking her to stay here with Maddie since the girls seemed occupied downstairs.” Cal walks fully into the room, his back towards the door. It’s defensive, as if he needs to be closer to me in case Ryan attacks.

  “Put her in Maddie’s room and get the fuck downstairs.” He takes a few steps towards the door before Cal grabs him with his long arms. He swings him into the wall and pushes him up so the two are locked together. I let out a frightened yelp, unsure what I was supposed to do. Cal looks ready to kill him.

  He barks into Ryan’s face, “Who the fuck are you to tell me what to do? You may be the second enforcer in command, but I’m still the Vice. And you don’t fucking mess with me or my company. Do you fucking understand me, Ryan?” When Ryan doesn’t answer Cal, I watch in horror as Cal pulls out a small switchblade and holds it to his jacket. “I've got all the power to cut this fucking badge off right now. You better damn well answer me when I ask you a question.”

  Ryan stiffens and swallows, his eyes lowering to the ground. His voice is tense and measured as he replies solemnly, “Yes, sir. I understand.”

  Cal drops him to the ground, the man stumbling to catch his fall. He heads out the door as Cal yells back to him, “You better not fucking forget it, Ryan!”

  I realize I’ve walked backwards towards the wall myself. My hands are gripping for something to support as I try to piece this all together. Here was this guy, a great father by all means, but he’s dangerous. So dangerous people shoot at him and his own friends get a knife to their body if they don’t obey. What have I gotten myself into?

  Cal looks at me amused. I’m sure he’s used to girls who are accustomed to this type of life and can handle a little Friday night shootout at the clubhouse, but I’m not that kind of girl at all. I don’t want to be that girl.

  I whisper meekly, “I would like to go home now, Cal.”

  “I told you, Michelle. You can’t go home. They’ll be looking for you there.”

  He’s explained this before, but I’m still not satisfied. I’m not safe wherever I go. I can’t stay here. I can’t go home. What the hell am I supposed to do to actually be safe? I slip slowly to the ground, finding the cold floors with the palms of my hands.

  “Listen, just stay here with Maddie until this meeting gets over with and then we’ll talk. We’ll figure out someplace for you to go. Can you just do that?”

  I nod slowly. What other choice do I have? I have certain death on one side and uncertain, but mostly probable death on the other. I can’t imagine what Maddie went through living like this, in a place where she knew how to duck and cover from gunshots or where she spent her time walking over beer cans and syringes. She doesn’t get the option. I’m lucky. And it is my duty to stay here in this house for her, to make sure she was truly safe.

  Cal outstretches his hand, and I take it. He zips up the rest of my dress and hands me my shoes and purse. Like an adult with a child, he smooths out my ponytail, making me presentable for his daughter and public consumption. I’m the teacher again – the demure, sweet little teacher who doesn’t belong in a place like this.

  As we walk towards Maddie’s room, I look down the banister to see the men filing in. They’re carrying guns and bats. Each is stopping to check out the damage to the walls and the windows. Maddie’s notebook, the one her father gave to me to look through earlier, is being trampled on by huge boots and some heels.

  Cal opens Maddie’s door where she's sitting on the floor still, her drawing pad on her lap. She looks up at me with wide, grinning eyes. It’s like the shooting didn’t happen. She’s already over it. My heart weeps for her some more. Without instruction or prompting, I sit down next to her and pull out some color pencils from her box of art supplies. She rips me a piece of blank paper as I start to draw.

  Her father looks over us – his two girls. He kneels down and pats Maddie’s head affectionately. “Miss Springer is gonna sit with you for a while. Jager’s downstairs so we’re gonna have a meeting. You’re cool, right?”

  Maddie nods without even looking up. But her shaking hand tells me Cal isn’t seeing the whole picture. Maddie’s not the tough, take it all kind of girl he wants her to be. She’s breaking right here. Suddenly, I’m glad I’m here, locked up like a child with this girl.

  “Good girl. Stay here until I come get you. You hear anything, you duck and get under the bed. Don’t answer the door to anyone.” Cal stands, taking one last glance at us before shutting the door.

  Maddie returns to her drawings, her eyes fixed on her page. But I can’t bring myself to draw anything. My mind is completely overwhelmed with the idea that this little girl knows to hide under the bed and lock her bedroom door to strangers. What else has Maddie seen? What has her father put her through?

  Chapter 11: The Cold Truth

  CAL

  Jager slams his fist into the table as the room suddenly goes from frantic chatter to absolute silence. This is not the day to goof around or test those in charge. This is the time to come together as Mustangs. United in war, divided by none.

  He lowers his voice, forcing everyone from those flanking him from the front to those peons in the back to listen in, “Mustangs, w
e're under attack. We won't stand for the shit that happened in our own clubhouse. Those Coyotes responsible for destroying our property and damaging our women will be punished.”

  The men raise hell with their voices, sending shrieks of agreement and applause into the crowded basement gathering space. I clap my hands slowly, adding to the noise. I’m as angry as every man here, but part of me wants to slow this down and not raise hell until we know exactly what is going on. Between the news about the missing Mustang and my run in with the bumbling supplier, something isn’t right. Why would they attack tonight?

  Jager turns to me and motions for me to stand. I approach where he is standing and nod in agreement. As the second in command, I’ve got to take his side on this. No questions ask.

  He pats me on the back as he said, “Our Vice Cal was there when it happened. And not only that, he did some recon today. What did you find out, Cal?”

  I'd called him on my way back about the things Chris was telling me, but he didn’t seem that interested. It was if he had already discovered it for himself. Bringing me up here to tell the group was odd and totally out of place. Still, I clear my voice and loudly say, “Earlier today, I went to see Chris Taylor, our supplier at the old repair shop. He was acting odd, almost more suspicious of me than anyone else. He hired two young guns to protect them, but they didn’t have any alliance that I could tell.”

  “What about the missing kid? What did he say about our brother?”

  “Chris told me the Coyotes kidnapped one of our riders who crossed into their territory. Shot him dead…” Angry, aggressive voices begin to rise as some men stand to their feet. “He said he heard the boy’s body was dumped in some trash pile outside of town. I haven’t confirmed that, though.”

  I added that last part not because I don’t believe Chris, but because I don’t want an all out war with the Coyotes over the kid’s offense. If he really crossed over, he knew what risk he was running. And why would he be out there in the first place? He had no reason to be packing all the way out in Coyote country. Our lines had been clearly drawn and even the newest members or wannabes knew where they shouldn’t ride if they didn’t want a bullet in their backs.

  Jager changes course, “Do you want to tell the guys what happened tonight?”

  “I was sitting in the kitchen when I heard a few bullets go through the window. I ducked and then heard the sounds through the living room. When I got up, I ran to the window and fired some shots at the bike’s back tires but he was already too far gone to catch. I then checked on my daughter. That’s the jist of it.” I eye him curiously. My account isn’t the important one. I wasn’t in the room where that girl got shot through the arm. And where I was sitting, I couldn’t have gotten a good angle on who the driver was.

  Suddenly, Ryan stands, pointing directly at me, “So who is that bitch you brought along with? What did she see?”

  That asshole’s had it out for my position since Jager appointed me. He’s tried to call me out so many times, but he forgets that I’m younger, stronger, and smarter than he’ll ever be. Still, he tries to start shit he knows he can’t back up just to rile up the younger guys around him. I may have the fists and the attitude. But he’s got the ear for drama and the talk to back it up.

  “She’s my daughter’s teacher. We had a teacher conference, Ryan.” I pound my fist on the table for emphasis, “I don’t know why that fucking matters. She didn’t see shit. She wasn’t hurt. And she certainly ain’t no spy.”

  “The girl conveniently shows up the night of a shooting looking like a whore, and I find her in your bedroom? Something’s going on with her, Jager. Go bring her down and question her!”

  I push the table over, sending it flying to the ground with a bang. The other members back away, sensing danger. I scream at him, getting in his face, “You wont fucking touch her, you son of a bitch!”

  “Maybe she wasn’t alone in this plot. Who knows if your story checks out from earlier. It would be so convenient that you happened to get that intel from Chris. But how I hear it, you threatened him, made him tell you whatever you wanted to hear! How are we supposed to know if you’re not in it with the Coyotes and making up stories to start a turf war?”

  Now I’m pissed. It’s one thing to threaten the girl I brought home and to get in my personal business. It’s another to call me a traitor or to question my loyalty. I was born in these colors, and I bleed with them.

  In one swift movement, my fist lands in his face, sending him flying backwards. The men form a circle around us as he lunges at me, grabbing me at my waist. But I’ve got nearly six inches on him as I grab him by the back and slam him to the ground on his stomach. As he lies there, trying to get to his hands, I pummel my fists into his face. I can almost feel his teeth crack from the force, his men cry out before a few try to pull me off of him. Still, I manage to get two deep kicks into his rib cage.

  The room settles as they cart his bloody body away. I turn to Jager who is still standing in the same spot before, chaos ensuing around him. He clears his throat and once again the room is silent. He looks me up and down before giving his judgment, “I believe Cal is right. I think the Coyotes are playing the long game here, slowly taking over small vendors like Chris. And now they are calling us out with the killing of one of our own and today’s attack.”

  A few men nod while the other whisper their descent.

  Jager holds up his hand for silence. He’s not finished with me yet. “However,” he shouts, “I take accusations like this seriously. Cal, I’m putting you in charge in getting justice for this group. You and your men will ride tonight. Strike during the early morning while they’re still sleeping. I expect blood for blood. Target their second in command, Addison Bell. Do you understand me?”

  I nod. In order to prove my worth and to show that I’m not soft or, worse, a traitor, I am going to have to kill a man.

  Chapter 12: The Morning After

  MICHELLE

  Maddie is snuggled up against me, falling in and out of sleep when we hear the noise. Thumping footsteps on the stairs coming closer to the room make both of us jump from our place on the bed. We watch in horror as the doorknob attempted to turn before the person realizes it’s locked.

  “Maddie! It’s Grandma Bernice! Can you open the door?” I look over at Maddie, who has a relieved smile on her face.

  “Grandma Bernice is my mom’s mom. She never comes here. Not since mom died. Dad must’ve told her the story to get her over here.”

  She walks quickly towards the door and places a hand on the knob. I have just enough time to ask her, “Are you sure, Maddie? Your dad said not to answer it for anyone but him. He didn’t mention your grandma.”

  “No, it’s cool. I recognize her voice.” She is plenty self-assured – I’ll grant her that – but I've had enough danger for the night.

  I leap out of bed and walk towards the corner, eying the open window as an escape route. I’m certainly not going to die because someone has decided to play a sick head game with a little girl and her teacher.

  Maddie opens the door slowly and peers out. Confirming the person’s identity, she opens it wider and runs to an older woman dressed in black, holding tight to a cane. “Grandma! What are you doing here?”

  “Your dad called me. He’s out on a ride with the rest of the club and asked if I would take you home with me for a few days. How could I say no to that?” She’s sweet, the total package of a grandma. It’s hard to picture this woman raising a girl who later got killed because she rode with a dangerous, drug dealing motorcycle club. Grandma Bernice looks more like she’s ready to bake some cookies – not sit on the back of a Harley.

  “Here, Grandma, I want you to meet someone,” Maddie says hurriedly, motioning in my direction. “This is my teacher, Miss Springer. She was staying with me while they had their meeting. She was here when they shot off at the house!” Maddie says it so proudly, as if it is a badge of honor to wear. I more wanted to run off into the darkness scr
eaming in fear rather than be here – but, I have to admit, it’s kind of sweet to be introduced like this.

  I walk over slowly, outstretching my arm towards her. Grandma Bernice looks me up and down, staring at my outfit. It’s obviously not what she had in mind for a teacher to wear – especially one doing house calls. It’s obvious she knows why I’m here and how I ended up becoming Maddie’s caretaker. It’s equally obvious that she doesn’t like it.

  “Maddie,” her grandma says, “why don’t you run downstairs, grab a few snacks from the kitchen, and then wait for me there. I want to thank your teacher before we go.”

  Maddie obeys, running quickly down the stairs. We’re left alone, just the two of us. Something tells me this isn’t going to end well.

  “So,” she began cautiously, “you’re Maddie’s teacher? What were you doing here tonight so late?”

  How did I end up on the interrogation seat? She’s already shooting daggers at me, like she knows exactly what kind of person I am. I quickly slip into defense mode. “Maddie got into some trouble at school earlier this week,” I explain. “Her father and I were discussing her school performance and making plans on what we should do. That’s when we got shot at. I’m only here because he won’t let me go home.”