Breaker: Gravediggers MC

by Paula Cox

  My voice falters as I try to understand what he’s saying. “Go? With you?”

  Breaker doesn’t respond this time. He dumps Henry in the truck bed with a gentle thud and then walks around to the driver’s side door. I climb up into the passenger seat and just stare at him as he revs the engine to life. His hands wrap around the steering wheel, the whites of his knuckles visible as he flexes. Those bottomless, mulled brown eyes are focused ahead, with his mouth locked shut.

  But I still see it; that twitch of his lips and the way his eyes close in a long pause. I know what’s going to happen next whether he wants me to know or not.

  This is the end. He is saying goodbye.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Breaker

  The words, you have to run away, now, had been on the tip of my tongue the entire day, ever since I’d formulated the plan in my head. But no matter how much I’d practiced saying them over and over again in my mind, I couldn’t get them out now.

  Look, I’m definitely not the type of guy who hides his emotions behind some bullshit macho face. When I feel something, you’ll goddamn well know what I am feeling. And when I’ve got something to say, you’re going to hear it even if you don’t want to. It’s gotten me in trouble more than once, especially with girls. There was one, in particular, Rhonda, who wouldn’t leave me the hell alone no matter how much I tried to get her off of me. It only took an hour or two of us playing this game before I snapped on her, leaving her crying on the roadside outside a hotel in Cheyenne.

  Aimee wasn’t any different. When I parked the truck, she didn’t move. She stayed stiff in the seat, her eyes glazed and staring straight ahead as if a movie were playing in front of her.

  Now, as the song on the radio changes over to a commercial, she begins simpering. “I can’t leave now, Breaker,” she says, her lower lip quivering. “I know what I’ve said in the past, but I can’t leave right now with Henry and…”

  “Henry is none of your business. You can’t be around if someone gets word that he’s alive. That’s why you need to go through with this. You need to make it look as if you left on your own accord.”

  “And when they find out that I’m gone?” she asks, looking over at me with hollow eyes. “What about you then?”

  “They won’t touch me. They’ll see I dropped you off. That’s the point. I have an alibi. You’re getting a huge head start on them, and I’ll have a free and clear breakaway. And even if they find out, one of us will be able to get the hell out of here.” I swallow hard, thinking of all the ways I’m breaking club oaths. I’ve got Henry in the trunk, still very much alive, and Aimee about to run, with my help. I started a coup earlier that blew up in my face with the consequences yet to unfold.

  Aimee can’t be part of that baggage, no matter what that nagging voice in the back of my head was telling me to do. I have to do this. I have to get her out of this truck so we can both move on to the next step.

  She lets out a huff of air. Though she’s still knockout gorgeous, something about today has aged her at least ten years. Her tan skin is missing that bright, youthful glow, and her shoulders, usually brown and supple and muscular in that sexy, feminine way, now slump over her lap as she holds back something that sounds like another whimper.

  Finally, she bursts out, “Please. Please, Breaker. Just come with me. We can do this together… I know we can. I just… I just can’t go without you.”

  I pull her by her shoulders toward me, almost yanking her over the middle counsel of the truck. With her wrapped in my arms, I lift her chin so that she has no choice but to look at me. “Get out of this truck, Aimee,” I instruct, “and don’t look back. You get the hell out of this town. Go back to Hawaii and start over again without me. There’s nothing here for you anymore.”

  She looks as if she has more to say, at least more pleading to do. But my word is my word, and she knows better by now than to question me. We stay this way for a while, her body getting heavy in my arms as the minutes pass. Eventually, she pulls away, her hands and arms shaking. She has let go.

  Aimee hops down from the truck and walks toward the hotel. I want to wait around to see if she actually goes inside, but I don’t have the time. While I only inflicted minor wounds on Henry, he was losing blood, and I needed to get him somewhere safe.

  I take off, making sure I pass a few members of the club that aren’t exactly on my side. They have to see me leave to make this believable. I nod to them as I pass by. They’re leaning up against their bikes, drinking their afternoon beers, not even processing what the hell is going on. Good.

  I drive about an hour outside of town, using only side roads. Cement turns into gravel pavement. Pavement turns to dust and dirt. Dust and dirt become hot, floating sand that swirls around the truck’s red body.

  Finally, in the cool shade of an oak tree somewhere between Nowhere and Nothingsville, I pull over and stop the car. I’d passed a gas station about twenty minutes back, so I think there’s at least somewhere Henry can go to get some help. Plus, this is far enough out that I doubt any guy I know has any sort of tie to the town or its people. It sure as shit doesn’t look like a place any of my boys would be bold enough to do business.

  I walk back to the bed of the truck, and the first thing I notice is that Henry has managed to untie himself. He’s sitting up on the bed, leaning his back just under the window.

  “You drive like a fucking lunatic,” he says as he strips off the rest of the blue tarp.

  “Yeah, well,” I say, extending my hand to help him out, “I had to make it look like I was desperate to dump a dead body, didn’t I?” He hops down off the bed, and I crack a wry grin. “And while we’re on the subject, I didn’t hear a ‘thank you’ come out of your mouth.” He freezes up for a moment, until I throw my head back and laugh. He joins in, sounding a little nervous, though, and shakes his head.

  I throw the blue sheet down on the ground. We should probably bury it; we don’t want word getting back about an empty tarp without a corpse floating around the Texan countryside. Luckily, Carlos or Biggs had thought ahead and left us with a few shovels in the back.

  “You feel like digging your own grave?” I ask Henry as he takes a sip out of a water bottle from the front seat.

  “It could be worse, I suppose,” he replies, staring at the tarp in morbid fascination. “I could be lying face down in it.”

  We spend an hour in front of the low beams digging a small trench. We use the extra dirt to fill the tarp so that it forms a rough shape of a round, long body when tied with the strings. It rolls into the tight hole in the ground without a hitch, making for easy work. We both breathe something like a sigh of relief as we throw on the last few shovels.

  “You think this is going to be enough?” Henry asks through a yawn. He leans over the shovel handle looking somewhat unconvinced. In all this work, I had completely forgotten that he was injured. I now feel a twinge of regret for not doing all the hard stuff by myself. But true to his character, he doesn’t complain.

  “It’s going to be enough to buy you some time to figure out what the hell you’re going to do next,” I tell him. I pause as I think over the words I want to say. “You know,” I say slowly, “I need to thank you. You shouldn’t have taken the fall for me. Taking over the Gravediggers was my deal. I should be the one with knife marks in my side.”

  He looks up at the darkening sky as he answers, “It had to be this way, Breaker. You know that. If anyone has a chance of taking Biggs down, it’s you. And now the guys know. They’re going to need you to lead them.”

  “Are you serious? You really think I should go on with this? No fucking way, man. I’m done. I’m keeping my head low. Aimee’s gone. You’re gone. I’ll just bide my time till the club blows itself up and find another brotherhood to join up with.”

  “Aimee’s gone?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

  “Yeah. What the fuck was I supposed to do with her? I can’t handle having to take care of her too.”

&nbs
p; Henry doesn’t respond this time, just looks me over as if he has figured out the secret of the universe, and I’m not in on it yet.

  I shift uncomfortably in my boots before continuing, “Look, man, keep in touch. Find a way to tell me where you got to when you get there. And get some help for those wounds. A few of them are pretty deep.”

  “Scratches. You can’t cut for shit.”

  “Fuck off, Henry,” I say as I walk back to the truck.

  “I’ll see you around, Breaker.” He smiles at me before I shut the door, but doesn’t watch as I drive off. Instead, he just stands there in that battered and bloodied t-shirt looking off into the distance. I can still see him as I close my eyes against the last, sharp crest of sunlight dipping on the horizon.

  It seems like it takes forever, but I finally make it back to my dusty office bedroom and collapse onto the bed. I replay the day’s events over and over like a dream that I can’t wake up from. Henry should be here. I should be with Aimee. Those things I was certain of now, but neither were true.

  I hear a few shouts from outside. The guys are searching for Aimee. She’d missed a call from Biggs to meet him down at the bar. And when security were told to do a check-in, they found an empty motel room with all her stuff missing. There wasn’t even a note, though I’m not sure why I’d expected that. The back door was unlocked, and the stolen security footage showed her breaking into a white minivan without plates.

  It was all very “Aimee-like” according to the rest of the guys in the know. No one had questioned me when I walked up. And why should they? Biggs knew where I was, and there were plenty of guys around at the motel to see her get out of my truck and head back to her room. I’d come back without Henry’s body and told them exactly where I buried him with mile markers and everything to guide them in case they doubted me. They’d find an empty tarp, of course, but I knew they wouldn’t go that far. They were too goddamn lazy.

  Tomorrow we’ll look for her. I’m in charge of the search and recovery mission since I know her so well. It was a task I certainly didn’t volunteer for. It was almost like Biggs was testing me to see how eager I was to get his little future moneymaker back.

  Hours pass. The night turns to morning, and I force myself out of bed before the sun is even fully up. I head back towards the motel. Something forces me there, like a siren to the open ocean. Aimee’s room is empty, as I knew it would be. I open up the mini-fridge where she kept a few beers that I like. I swig them down one at a time, lying back in the bed we’d shared many nights. Her smell is still on the sheets, unerasable.

  I close my eyes, letting the liquor wash over me. And then, a knock. It’s light at first but then grows a little louder, more urgent. I don’t answer. I can’t let any of the guys see me here, even though I know I could just pretend to be looking for evidence of where she’s gone. But seconds later, the knocking stops and I hear a click. The door unlocks and swings open. Light streams in, and I place a hand over my eyes to peer at whoever is attempting to break in.

  I shout towards the door, “What the fuc—”

  I’ve seen a lot in my life. I’ve watched as good men have gotten their lives cut down in a flash. I’ve been there to see true leaders get torn apart by their own brothers. Hell, I saw my own dad waste away from drugs—his body and mind disintegrating into oblivion. But nothing I’d ever encountered could have prepared me for what walked in.

  Aimee.

  “Breaker?” she asks, her voice sweeter than spun sugar.

  “Aimee?” I stand up, dusting myself off. She leans against the thick wooden door, clutching her bag over her shoulder. Her hair is tied up, with a few small strands falling across her bare shoulders. She looks dirty as if she’s been walking for miles in the desert. But there’s a light about her that I can’t explain away.

  I rush to her side, but when I get to her, I don’t touch her. I stand five feet away, still in partial disbelief that she’s even standing in front of me. “What the hell are you doing here, Aimee?”

  “I—I couldn’t do it, Breaker. I’m here to get caught.”

  “Do you know what they will do to you when they find out you’re here? Biggs is going to sell you off or kill you.”

  She bites her lip, her eyes unflinching. Determined. “I don’t care. I need to be with you.”

  With a heavy sigh, I make up the space between us and draw her to me. Our lips meet as I take her head in my hands, those beautiful loose strands of hair brushing over my fingers. Her steamy, sweaty body eases under my weight as if it’s been waiting a millennium for me to finally melt to pieces. Her hands wrap around my body, delving under the waistband of my jeans with her sharp fingernails.

  Aimee doesn’t hesitate and lifts my shirt over my head. Her tiny tank top twists off of her lean body seconds later. I press her against my chest, our beating hearts now in sync. Her bra unhooks, and those tits fall out for me. I squat down slightly, burying my face in between those gorgeous mountains. That flowery scent of hers fills my nostrils as I claim each of her nipples with my lips. She lets out a gasp, pulling me back up to her mouth.

  “Can I be with you, Breaker?” she asks between our kisses. “Say yes… please.”

  I spin her around, leading her towards the long wooden desk only a meter or so away. I wrap my hands around her backside. In these tight little jean shorts, I can feel the entire underside of her ass. I slap the cheeks with a small, satisfied grin. She gasps again when I hoist her up and push her so that she sits straight up on the desk.

  I lean forward again, resting my head on her shoulder. My unshaven chin scratches and tickles her skin, causing goosebumps to rise to the surface. She coos with blushed cheeks while her arms press her tits together.

  In her ear, I whisper, “Yes, Aimee. I’m not letting you go ever again.” And boy do I fucking mean it.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Aimee

  There are so many things I want to tell Breaker right now.

  I want to tell him how I called Eva a million times at the truck stop I walked to after I ditched the van. She never answered. I just heard my sister’s voice replay on the voicemail over and over again. The trucker who loaned me his cell stared at me with wet lips and eager eyes. I handed him back his phone when I was done and walked away towards a more public space.

  I want to tell him how I did break down and called my father. This time, it was with a different guy’s phone. He looked hungrier than the other, but I just turned my back to him, eyeing him from the window of a truck as I tried to hold myself together.

  “Are you okay?” Dad asked, his voice sounding more irritated than relieved to hear from his long-lost daughter.

  “I—I’m not sure,” I answered with a bit of a hesitation. How could I explain what the hell had happened to me to someone so removed from this scene? What would he say if I told him his daughter became a street drifter on the run from the law, abusive ex-boyfriends, and motorcycle clubs? Would he even care that the only place that provided me some kind of security was also days, if not hours, away from selling me to a prostitution ring? I doubted it.

  “I need to get a hold of Eva,” I said to break the silence. He couldn’t help me, but she could. She had always been the one and only person that could help me when I needed it the most. That is, until I met Breaker. My heart broke at that moment as I thought of him driving back towards Gravedigger territory with the blood of his not-dead best friend on his shirt.

  My father cut through my thoughts as he quipped, “I haven’t heard from Eva in a few years.” There was a pause before he continued, “But I know her husband’s law practice. They are on the big island now. If you want, I can get you that number.”

  I shook as I tried to find a piece of paper to write it down. All I could find was that tattered picture of our family with the long white streaks where I had folded it to fit into whatever I was carrying.

  Once I had taken the number down, he asked, “Is there anything you want from me or your mother?”r />
  There was a lot of things I wanted—an apology, time, help—but I couldn’t ask for any of it. Not right now. Right now, I just needed to figure out what my next step was and how I could get away as fast as possible. I didn’t bother to give him a “no” though. I hung up before I could muster up anything else to say.

  Eva’s husband wasn’t in his office. He was at court. I had completely forgotten about the time difference between here and Hawaii and had figured I’d get a voicemail there too. Funny how that happened. But instead of a low-key message, I had to stumble my way with my words as I tried to explain to his secretary who I was and what I wanted. She took my name down as “Annie,” Eva’s sister, and wrote out a message that I would call Eva and she should pick up next time. She sounded as confused as I was, but that was all the time I had to explain. Any longer and this second guy would have jumped my bones.

  I want to tell Breaker about how my stomach turned as I walked back towards the van, seeing no other options than to just get on the road. Everything about it felt wrong. I drove for an hour or two, music blaring to drown out my tears and the red hot beating of my angry heart. But nothing could stop me from thinking about him, even if I did everything I could not to.