Rescued MC (The Nighthawks MC Book 13)

by Bella Knight

  “Wha…?” asked Muff, twitching his hand in front of his right pocket. Logi had the key out of his pocket and handed it to Tito before Muff had time to cry out.

  “Now go,” said Logi. “Before we get a baseball bat and smash your pathetic excuse for a vehicle.” She reached in through his open window, fished a liquor bottle out of the duffel bag of liquor, twisted off the lid, and poured it out. She threw the glass bottle into the recycling bin. Muff squeaked, jumped into his car, turned it on, and in a cloud of belching fumes, he left.

  “More cleaning,” said Logi. “Great.”

  “I foresee the ordering of pizza,” said Fyrst.

  “And one hell of a long night,” said Logi.

  “Long nights are our specialty,” said Fyrst. They laughed, and went back to put the manager’s apartment to rights.

  They went to the convenience store nearby, bought plastic gloves, trash bags, more cleaning supplies, and drinks and snacks. They blasted their headphones, threw everything in the trash that wasn’t furniture, and deep-cleaned everything else as Hy ran around, completing a punch list on what needed to be done.

  They ordered a deep-dish with Italian sausage, olive, and bacon, and ate like pigs on the newly-cleaned counter. Hy took the leftover pizza upstairs for the other workers.

  “Pretty good place,” said Logi. “Much cheaper here. I understand the rents are a lot cheaper than the Big Apple. Dirty Rock and Hard Rock are here. Lots of Valkyries.”

  Fyrst stroked Logi’s gorgeous fire-red hair and its golden tips. “You want to get out of New York?”

  “We’ve talked about it,” said Logi. “This is hot, fun, lots of work to do. Apartments to look after, warriors that need us because they wake up screaming every night.” She grinned, and waved a hand. “I’m tired of being a bike courier.”

  “So, we help here, then talk.”

  “Agreed,” said Logi. “Now, we need a new lock for this door.”

  “No,” said Fyrst. “New door, new hinges, new lock. Window locks, and we check every single bar and the fast-release on them.”

  “Let’s do this,” said Logi. Logi called upstairs to put the new entry on the punch list, and within the hour, they had all the locks checked, a new door, and window locks.

  Logi took everyone out to the local barbecue joint. They ate mechanically, exhausted from the ride, then did all the work cleaning and fixing things.

  “I talked to Tito. Rent is doable, one open. Pretty good size. Jobs are good here, and Tito obviously needs help. Lots of Valkyries here, and we can play what we want. There are more places to play in New York, but this can get us new fans. Also, here, no parking fees for our Harleys.” That was a huge problem in New York.

  “Have to quit our jobs,” said Fyrst. “Move here. Start over. No seasons, except fucking hot... and chilly wind in winter. Learn to work on our Harleys, and help with the Soldier Pack. Maybe work toward buying our own apartment house to put these soldiers in. Help them move into their new places when they disperse.”

  “Band stays together. We all do this, or not,” said Fyrst. They passed the bag, and all the beads were gold. A “no” vote would have been black. “We move,” she said. They cheered, and went to find a hotel.

  The Valkyries installed all the pods, in their apartment and in the soldiers’ three-bedroom. Leafort moved in, to the little manager’s apartment, along with Jane, a perky Wyandot that could fix nearly anything with a wrench. Tito temporarily rented the Valkyries another apartment in the same building, and the new Valkyries worked to benefit all —until Tito bought a farmhouse with a barn, both in good repair, on a road that went nowhere. Tito got it up to code with the electrical, plumbing, and air conditioning, and a new roof to the house, then the Valkyries bought the house from Tito, freeing his people for other jobs.

  A mass of workers in braids descended on the house, ready to paint, put in furniture, and convert the barn into a garage, complete with apartments above, which they hired Tito back to finish. The new Valkyries moved in, and Alvitr from Pahrump came back to Vegas and moved in over the barn, to the delight of her parents, Rota and Skuld. Bonnie and Ghost were delighted for their new recruits to work in the barn; they’d doubled up while that was going on, and space had been scarce.

  The house became the Valkyries House, or Rock House. Thrash, metal, and rock could be heard from noon until the wee hours of the morning, but there were no neighbors to complain, just soldiers who needed a skill and a home. They loved the music, too.

  Soldiers All

  “Ms. Ruben,” said Alvitr, at the new house. “Your daughter, Fire, she slept in her new bed just fine, with her own light, and shelf, and an enclosed space.”

  She failed to mention that Fire slept with a Taser under her pillow. They’d locked up the guns, fearing suicide, and told the new Soldier Pack it was for child safety. Alvitr had come up, and brought over Freya, Chance, and Rhodes, to make the story stick. Chance and Rhodes were acting out campaigns with Trace and Radium, as the rest of the women made dinner.

  “And is she eating?” asked Ms. Ruben, her face a pinched mass of worry. “She says the food, even her favorites, even in small bites, taste like ash to her.” Ms. Ruben’s tears stood out in her dark eyes. “And call me Donna.”

  “Donna,” said Alvitr. “That’s a common response from battle.”

  Fire hadn’t lost limbs. She’d been on perimeter duty when the tent with her team was hit by a missile. She had been slowly starving herself to death, tasting the ashes of her friends burned to death in front of her in a firestorm.

  “We have her on meal replacement shakes,” said Alvitr. “And protein shakes, too.” She grinned. “She has to have one every few hours.” She didn’t add that Fyrst, one of the New York Valkyries, simply heckled Fire in an obnoxious Bronx accent until the woman drank.

  “And she drinks them?” asked Donna.

  “Every sip,” said Alvitr. “Now, if you will excuse me, we have lunch. She has to eat two carrots with this meal, and I don’t want to miss it.”

  “Good,” said Donna, her voice shaky with tears. “Good.”

  “Have a good day,” said Alvitr, and touched her ear to cut the call. She’d been in earlier that summer, and had shadowed Wraith. She knew how to run a unit. She also had her mother, and a mess of New York Valkyries to rely on.

  Alvitr strode into the kitchen like she owned it. “Let’s eat, and then we’ve got parts of a Harley, by model. That’ll take a while, because there’s lots of new models. Then, we start our first builds. I’ve got a source, so we have three to take apart, and three to unbox.”

  She stood down at the end of the table. Alvitr sang to Freya, praise for the bounty, and they sat and ate fresh wheat bread, salad, potatoes, carrots in brown sugar, and grilled chicken. Alvitr diced her chicken, carrots, and potatoes and put them on her salad, with curls of cheese. The others did the same.

  “Drink your shake,” she said to Fire. Fire did, mechanically. She also ate the two carrot slices.

  “Sounds like we’re going to be super-busy,” said Rysa. Her cane leaned against the table.

  “At least it’s not cleaning,” said Chick. “I can’t lift my arms over my head.”

  “We’ve got a good clean house,” said Champ. “We work hard today, and learn something. Better than staring at the damn television.”

  “Oo rah,” said Trace.

  “Oo rah,” said the others.

  “Let’s talk cleaning duties,” said Rayne. “Make a chart.”

  “Chore chart,” said Queenie. “I’ll take KP duty.”

  “We rotate,” said Trace. “’Cept if we find someone can’t boil water, no cooking. Change to cleanup.”

  “I can make ramen noodles,” offered Chick. Everyone laughed.

  They cleaned up, filled up the dishwasher, and filed out to the barn, Chance and Rhodes just as interested as the ex-soldiers. Alvitr and Freya took turns explaining the parts of the bikes, with diagrams of the new models, as well as of th
e three-wheeler, the Fat Boy, and the Low Rider to be assembled, plus the three smashed-up Harleys to be disassembled and reassembled —a touring bike and two off-roaders.

  They took out the three to-be-assembled bikes and laid the parts out on the three of the six tables along the back of the barn. They also went over the three to be chopped up, with Alvitr and Freya showing the damage, what needed removal, and what still worked. They had a snack-and-shake break of veggies and protein shakes in a rainbow of flavors, from vanilla to chocolate mint. Then, they went over their tools, put on their gloves, and started work. It was deafening, with the fans blowing, the rock blaring, and the instructors instructing.

  They all went back, took turns in the shower, and grilled up steaks and chicken in the backyard. The rock gods put the soldiers on their bikes, and ran them back to their apartment. They draped themselves over the comfortable couches and chairs, chatted, watched silly television, and those that could sleep, went to sleep.

  Then the screams came from the nightmares. Queenie rotated, in charge of waking up the ones with nightmares, making them touch the walls, or look at the time on their cell phones. She handed out warm cocoa and talked each one to sleep. They let her sleep in, and woke her for breakfast sandwiches.

  They rode to the barn again. This time, they were quick with their gloves, but still uncertain with their tools. Alvitr and Freya circulated, corrected them, walked them through each step. Freya disassembled the dead bikes, laid the working parts out on the table behind the horse holding up the bikes, and showed them which parts needed to be ordered. Alvitr worked on the Fat Boy.

  They had pulled pork sandwiches for lunch, with Cokes and fries. Fire ate a quarter of a sandwich and two fries, along with her protein shake and a Coke. Her face looked less terrifyingly hollow.

  The rock gods awoke from their morning nap, and played in the barn’s loft, banging out tunes and working on choices for song sets while the others worked below. The thump of the drums, thrum of the bass, wail of the lead guitar, and screaming lyrics made sense to the Soldier Pack, and they often sang along.

  They took farmhouse showers since there were two bathrooms there, their change of clothes in their packs, and they took turns dicing veggies and cooking up cheesy grits, shrimp, bacon, and eggs, and they ate a New Orleans-style breakfast for dinner, with hot sauce for anyone who wanted it. Fire took a liking to shrimp cheese grits, and ate half a bowl.

  They laughed, sang their way home, did whatever cleaning was needed, and Champ had night watch. There were only two nightmares, and Champ figured out the caramel cocoa was better for getting people back to sleep. She didn’t sleep in much, and set the table for breakfast, with breakfast burritos with eggs, cheese, and sausage.

  Bannon’s people delivered a used blue van, clean and in working order, and Queenie drove them to the barn, allowing the rock gods to sleep in after a late night playing at Dirty Rock. They headed out to the barn, and had gloves on, tools out, and fans running by the time Alvitr, Freya, Chance, and Rhodes were out. Alvitr sang a song to Odin, and began work. They turned on the dirtiest rock, full of insinuations, from AC/DC’s Big Balls to Aerosmith’s Walk This Way. They blasted the music, and the motorcycles began to take shape under their industrious hands.

  They ate lunch outside, under a portico, on brand-new picnic tables covered by umbrellas Freya had set up the night before. They had grilled corn, salad, potato salad, grilled shrimp, fresh peaches baked into little pies, and huge pitchers of lemonade iced tea. The rock ‘n’ roll contingent came out, drawn by the food, and they intermixed with the Soldier Pack.

  They ended up taking time after lunch and cleanup for an impromptu volleyball game on the net Freya had ordered. Freya taught the girls their afternoon fighting lesson, and the soldiers made a ring. The Valkyries sparred, and the soldiers watched closely then waded in. By the time they were done, they were covered with sand, bruised, and grinning from ear to ear. Fire wasn’t allowed to participate until she got her weight back up, but she watched closely.

  They blew the sand off with the fans, and went in to work some more. The band climbed up to their loft, and blasted out some of the songs from AC/DC’s Black Ice album, and some Bad Company and Aerosmith, sure to make Ivy dance. Below them, the soldiers dinged their knuckles, taught Chance and Rhodes some dirty language in several languages they didn’t know, and laughed when the girls started bickering in Latin over who knew more about what. The girls were banished to the loft to learn how to bang out a rhythm and sing some songs. They discovered Chance had a natural sense of rhythm, and Rhodes was pretty good, too.

  “Just great,” complained Freya. “Looks like I’m investing in some soundproofing. With two sets of drums, the neighbors will get nasty if I don’t.” She sighed. “Constraints,” she said. “Bob explained the concept to Rhodes, and giving up my office is a small price to pay to get all that energy out of them.”

  “Better it not go to drugs,” said Desert. “Or things that will get them killed.” She held up her artificial hand. She was still learning not to drop things on her foot; her steel-toed boots had kept her from broken toes.

  “Word,” said Freya. “Tighten that. Yeah. Now, let’s see about the electrical system.” Suddenly, six pairs of eyes were on her.

  Alvitr grinned. “I’ve been abandoned.” She said, “Ladies, go watch Freya. She can hook those things up faster than I can.” The three with her went over to watch the electrical system be installed and tested. Rhodes and Chance climbed down the ladder, and watched as well.

  They cleaned up after a very hot day, and had a simple chicken Caesar salad, garlic bread, and Cokes. To everyone’s astonishment, Fire finished a small version of the salad and two pieces of garlic bread.

  “What?” she said. “I want to spar too.”

  “You guys should come to Dirty Rock tonight,” said Fyrst. “We’re gonna have a good set.”

  “Let’s go, but agree to no drinking, just watch, and dance, and head home right after the set,” said Desert. “We’ve got work tomorrow.”

  “Specialist’s right,” said Radium. “We’ve got to get those bikes out. We get ‘em sold, we get paid.”

  “Then we can’t go out,” said Chick.

  “We’ll front you,” said Aldrnari. “We’ve got a tab, get you some spiced apple juices in the beer bottles, and all the bar food you can eat.”

  “Okay,” said Fire. Everyone stared at her. “What?” she said. “I like bar food.”

  Chance and Rhodes narrowed their eyes. “We can’t go,” complained Chance.

  “You can if you’re in the band,” said Logi. “And, you can only stay for the set, and you’ll have to eat elsewhere.”

  “We’ll have Sonic afterward,” said Freya. “But, this is risky. Your adoptions haven’t gone through.”

  “Well, fuck a duck,” said Rhodes, making everyone laugh. “What?” said Rhodes. “We can’t risk being separated from our mom.”

  “Just the phrasing’s a Maryland thing,” said Aldrnari.

  “Had a group ride through from Maryland, raising money to adopt a kid into their group,” said Freya. “The girl needed artificial limbs and a therapy dog for anxiety. They raised the money, paid Sigrun for her printed arms, and swung down to Arizona to pick up the cocker spaniel from Ace’s brother Kieran and his friend, Pavel. Both boys are midway through animal husbandry and business degrees, and already have their therapy dog certifications.”

  “Ace is Nighthawks,” said Alvitr. “We owe them big. They started the Soldier Pack and my pack, the Wolfpack.”

  “Therapy dog?” asked Trace.

  “With anxiety dogs, they kinda lay on the person, or with bigger dogs, the kid lays on the dog. There’s dogs that can signal when a kid is having a seizure, help kids with autism to talk,” said Alvitr. “Our Damia, she’s on a farm a lot farther out, bonded to horses, and now she talks, although she’s autistic. She even went on a road trip once.”

  “Well, fuck, that’s awesome,” said Tra
ce. “How can we get certified to do that?”

  Alvitr raked her eyes around the table, determining their seriousness. “I’ll get Bannon to see if they let dogs in your building. If so, we can look into it. Get you some bikes built, so you can take a road trip to Arizona to see the operation. They do it out of a hoity-toity school up there. The students run the business, but all six of the initial investors graduated. Two of them went elsewhere for college, but two live nearby, and Pavel and Keiran live on campus because the dogs love it there. They take on specific breeds from societies that rescue them from shelters, and some rescued mutts too.”

  She sent a text, and the women talked about their day, the sparring, and going out.

  She got a text back. “Ladies, we can meet Kieran and Pavel in thirty minutes.”

  “We’ll clean up,” said Logi. “We’ve never eaten better in our lives.”

  “Go,” said Fyrst. They wolfed down their last bites, chugged their drinks, and headed to their bikes and the van. Freya followed on her Harley, Chance behind her, with Rhodes in the sidecar.

  They arrived at a cookie-cutter home of white stucco. They parked around the corner at a convenience store, and met Keiran and Pavel there with a red van, with “Desert Therapy Dogs” on the side. Two dogs were crated in the back, a golden retriever named Pip and a cocker spaniel named Belle. Pavel made sure the dogs had water, and walked each one, one at a time, to relieve themselves before meeting their new family.

  “I called ahead,” said Kieran. “The girl, Rica, has anxiety disorder, and the boy, Troy, is autistic.” He sighed. “You can’t all push in there. We can look in the back window, so you don’t scare the kids by too many people. The mom, Teddi, gets that you are considering doing this.”

  “They scared of us because of this?” asked Desert, holding up her artificial hand.

  “No, their sister, Becca, is the same as you,” said Keiran. “She came with her own dog, a little black mutt named Bitty. Lovely dog, and gets along with other dogs. “We are just too many for them.” He looked at Freya, Rhodes, and Chance. “I can take you guys,” he said. “And two of you, in with me.”