Lilli took a step forward, and Riley noticed for the first time how precise her posture was. She carried herself very straight, with her shoulders perfectly perpendicular. Doug carried himself the same way. Without fully thinking about it, Riley squared her own shoulders.
“The Horde is dealing with some trouble, and we want you all out of harm’s way. We’re sending you back to California. Sorry for the rush.”
Doug was quiet for a couple of seconds, then he nodded. “Okay. I’ll rouse Pete and Alex. Let’s get moving.”
Funny—Doug was the least famous of the actors staying at the B&B, but nobody questioned him at all. Lilli and Shannon went back downstairs. Mark nodded and headed straight for Tanner’s room. Pru and Riley went back to their rooms.
Riley washed up and dressed, then packed as quickly as she could. She was still frightened, but now at least she felt like there was a plan and somebody knew what to do. Not her, but somebody.
~oOo~
Not even Tanner kicked up a fuss, and they were piled into the van, Lilli driving and Doug riding shotgun, within half an hour of the confab in the upstairs hallway.
Riley was sitting sandwiched between Tanner and Pru, which was unfortunate. She and Tanner hadn’t seen each other all that much during the week, but when they had, he had never really let up on the idea that they should be a couple. And then he’d pulled that shit in the clubhouse tonight. And now they were sitting thigh to thigh, and Riley felt guarded, waiting for him to try something else.
But he didn’t. Until they were clear of town and had been on the highway for awhile, no one spoke. The quiet was thick and a little creepy. Then Tanner said, “It must have to do with the other bikers that are coming in.” He’d leaned a little toward Riley, and his voice had been low, but the van had been so quiet that everyone heard him. Riley saw Lilli’s eyes jerk to the rearview mirror, but she didn’t answer.
Doug turned around. “Don’t think it matters, Tan.”
“Don’t you? It doesn’t matter to you that we’re attached to a project that might be dangerous? You’re a tougher man than I, then, mate.”
Doug laughed, but he didn’t say more.
Tanner turned to Riley again. “I do hope you’ve wised up now about your affair with the big, bad biker.”
She glared at him, but kept her mouth shut.
But he wasn’t done. “It’s better this way, love. We’ll be back where we belong, and things will be as they should be.”
Pru leaned over with a scowl. “Tanner, just shut up.” He smirked and then nodded and eased back into his seat.
Riley looked forward and caught Lilli’s eye in the rearview. She smiled a little, and Lilli smiled back.
For the rest of the ride, Riley let her mind loose to try to understand everything that had happened and was happening.
She wasn’t afraid anymore. They were safe, on the way to the Springfield airport. She was still confused, and she still didn’t understand what Tanner and Doug had been talking about, the ‘other bikers.’ But she didn’t suppose it mattered. They were going away from whatever it was.
What mattered more, and first, was the turmoil she felt about Bart. She’d been feeling it since she met him, really, but especially acutely since he’d taken the photographer away. And now this. Leaving without seeing him, without even a goodbye. It made her heart feel bruised.
She didn’t want to go at all. She’d felt a kind of ease in Signal Bend she hadn’t felt in years. Years. She’d forgotten that she was RILEY CHASE, all caps, and she’d just gone about her days. She’d only spoken to her mother twice all week. It had been wonderful. And she’d been a normal girl with Bart. They’d talked and laughed and screwed and talked some more. He called her princess, but he treated her simply like a girl he liked. Nothing more or less. She loved it.
She thought she might love him, too. Actually, she was pretty sure she did—it felt like she did—but she kept telling herself it wasn’t possible.
Twice in the past day, she’d come close to saying that she loved him: in Isaac’s office, before she left, and on the phone when he was telling her to go. It felt true. It was crazy, but it felt true. She’d stopped herself out of fear that he would only see the crazy. Just because she was a sap who always fell fast didn’t mean he was. In fact, considering who he was, the odds were strongly against it.
And maybe she was wrong. Maybe she was just giddy from the break from her life. She’d only known him a week. Tanner was right; it was a fling. Worse, it was a rebound fling. Bart was there when she was feeling lonely and vulnerable. He’d made her feel good, safe. That was ironic, since he was supposed to be an outlaw biker. No—he was an outlaw biker.
Earlier, her eyes had been opened a little, when she’d realized that Isaac was threatening Tanner. She hadn’t thought about the Horde as outlaws. She liked most of them, and they treated her pretty well. Mostly what they seemed to do is handle town problems and party a lot. She’d seen Isaac talking to the town mayor, and several town business people. She’d seen the way all the Horde were warmly greeted wherever they went. She hadn’t seen anyone who’d seemed intimidated or scared. They were respected, and Isaac was very clearly in charge, but until he’d loomed over Tanner, he’d never seemed truly scary to her, even as big as he was.
And Bart? He was sweet—really sweet. He was a geek with a sarcastic sense of humor. And he was amazing in bed. He paid attention to her. She could feel him really noticing her body and her responses. He could be gentle, and he could be a little rough. He could take her over, and he could let her have her way. She’d never been with anyone who was so confident and involved in bed.
When he touched her, it felt like love. Even from the first night—which meant it couldn’t be love. She was very confused. And she hated to be leaving without seeing him, talking to him. There was no guarantee they’d ever see each other again. He’d said they’d ‘work it out,’ but Riley had no idea what that meant. The plan now was to film exterior scenes on location, but plans like that changed all the time. Signal Bend looked like lots of little towns, probably, and it wasn’t really convenient for a whole film crew. Vancouver was far better prepared and was always standing in for just about every conceivable location. And after this, when all the actors and their people were fleeing Signal Bend and some kind of threat that was so imminent Bart couldn’t even say goodbye, maybe there wouldn’t even be a movie at all. Tanner certainly seemed to be having his doubts about continuing.
There was something real happening. Something dangerous. And that meant Bart was in the middle of it.
Riley’s chest felt too tight to breathe.
~oOo~
When they arrived at the airport, a grey dawn had broken. Lilli didn’t pull up at the passenger drop-off; instead, she parked and went into the airport with them. Badger had caught up on the road and caravanned in with them. He parked nearby, and the whole Hollywood troupe went in together. Riley felt a little calmer; getting to the airport had at least given her something else to focus on.
Shannon had done well, and had managed to get them all on two planes departing within twenty minutes of each other. The early flights, Riley assumed, were what made that possible. Lilli and Badger didn’t leave them until they’d checked their bags and made it to the security checkpoint. Then they’d all said goodbye.
Riley felt an urge to hug Lilli, whom she’d begun to feel like she knew pretty well. But she knew Lilli was not much of a hugger. So they’d shaken hands. By way of farewell, Riley said, “Tell him…tell him I had a good week.”
“Sure. I’m sorry for it ending this way. I’m glad I got to know you. I think you’ll be great.”
Riley smiled. Lilli was taller, stronger, older, and far more interesting than Riley ever would be. She was just a better person all around, Riley thought. So she felt the compliment in Lilli’s words, whether they were intended or not. “Thank you.”
By the time she had retrieved her boots and bag off the scanner belt, Lilli and B
adger were gone.
~oOo~
Tanner, Peter, Mark, and Alex went to find a drink, early as it was, intending to avoid the common areas as much as possible. The other actors didn’t have first class tickets, or assistants. Doug went to the gate area with them. Riley started to follow him, passing up the lounge entrance, and Pru snagged her sleeve.
“What are you doing?”
Riley pulled her arm gently free of Pru’s hold. “I don’t want to go in there with Tanner and those guys. Nobody’s bothered me. I’m just going to the gate. You don’t have to go with me. I’ll be okay.”
“No. I’m with you. We need to talk about what you’ll face when we land at LAX.”
Oh, right. The tabloid crap. Devon, finding ways from the grave to make her suffer. They sat down at a long bank of vinyl seats, near the others but with some distance for privacy. The airport was still quite empty so early in the morning. There was something eerie, a little desolate, about such a huge space, intended for bustling activity, to be so cavernously quiet.
Pru started right in. “The plans were so last minute that we might be okay. On the flip side, though, the flurry of activity could have alerted someone if they were paying attention at the right time. Plus, you know…it’s LAX. They have hounds just stationed there. I’ll do what I can to move you through fast, and when I talked to your mom—you are in for such a maternal meltdown when you get back, by the way. She’s been on a tear about the way you’ve been ignoring her. Anyway, she was going to make sure it was Joe who’d pick us up. Nobody gets past Joe.”
Riley felt something give way inside her head as Pru prattled on about how they were going to protect her from the paparazzi. She thought about the guy Lilli had held at gunpoint until Bart and his brothers could come and take him away. What had they done with him—or to him—she wondered. Was he okay? Was Bart okay? Why had he sent her away so fast? What was going on?
“Are you even upset to leave Omen without saying goodbye?” She didn’t know why that was the question that came out of her head.
Pru was shocked, too. “What?”
“You like him, right? Aren’t you going to miss him?”
“I—I don’t know. Yeah, I like him. It was nice to have a break from thinking about you every waking minute.”
“Ouch.”
Pru put her hand on Riley’s arm. “No, that’s not what I meant. But you know, keeping track of all your stuff takes a lot. This past week, you did your thing and I did mine, for the most part. It was nice. It was really nice to be with a guy who didn’t see me as a way to get to you, too. So yeah. I’ll miss him.” She looked hard at Riley. “But Ri, they’re bikers. They live in the middle of nowhere. They’re not for bringing home to Eleanor. In an alternate universe, sure. But we live in this universe. More specifically, we live in L.A. So Tanner, as much of a dick as he is, is right. Time to get back to the real world.”
Staring out the wide window to the tarmac, Riley thought about what Pru had said. She thought about the way she felt about Devon, and the tabloid crap, and Pru, and her mother, and the movie, and Tanner. She thought about Bart. She thought about the week she’d just spent feeling normal. Her head felt packed solid.
Somehow, she knew that all this had started because they were trying to protect her from somebody with a camera. A camera. Not a knife, or a gun, or a bomb, or anything else that could really hurt her. A camera. All of what happened last night—or some of it, anyway—was her fault, because she couldn’t deal with the thought of people making her private life public. And she was going back to that anyway now.
She hadn’t wanted to leave. She hated leaving without saying goodbye. She’d been whisked away before she had a chance to fully understand what was going on. She still didn’t fully understand what was going on. In Signal Bend, or between her and Bart.
Whisked away. She was always being whisked away, and she hardly ever knew where or why—at least not when the decisions were being made. Pru understood Riley’s life better than she herself did. She didn’t even know how to book an airplane ticket. She was twenty-six years old, she’d been working since she was four, and people had been giving her direction for her whole damn life. She laughed. That was something she was known for—how well she took a note. She was considered a consummate professional, because she always had her lines down, she never balked, and she took direction.
She wasn’t an actor. She was a marionette.
She stood up. “I need the bathroom.”
Pru grabbed her bag off the floor. “Hold on. I’ll go with you.”
“No! Geez, Pru, I can use the toilet on my own. I won’t get lost.”
Dropping her bag back on the floor, Pru crossed her arms. “Fine.”
Riley put her own bag on her shoulder and headed down the concourse.
She walked straight past the women’s room, past the security checkpoint, and nearly out the doors of the airport. Only when she went under a bank of signs advertising rental cars did it occur to her that she had no way of getting where she wanted to go. So she followed the signs and stopped at the first rental car kiosk. She’d never rented a car before, but it turned out not to be very difficult. They even gave her a GPS unit.
On her way to pick up the car she’d rented all on her own, she texted Pru: I’m going back. Don’t freak, don’t try to stop me & don’t follow. I’m fine. I’ll see you soon.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Bart stared at Rick. He’d been leaning against his dresser; now he stood straight and took a couple of steps toward the window, looking through the wire-reinforced glass. “Fuck, Rick. No—that’s…no.” He could not believe what he’d just heard. He could not even consider it.
Rick was sitting on the end of Bart’s bed. He had a heavy, dark beard and, as far as Bart knew, was ink from his neck down—he even had ink on the palms of his hands—but otherwise he was the least biker-looking biker Bart knew. He was a hipster, short and rail thin, with thick-gauge plugs in his lobes. The few times Bart had been in the same room with him, he was dressed the same: beanie, esoteric geek t-shirt, narrow jeans, and Docs. And black horn-rimmed glasses. Take off his Scorpions kutte, and there was nothing biker about him. He could be a barista.
But it was the twenty-first century, and MCs needed guys like Bart and Rick. Hackers. Their prowess in a fistfight wasn’t nearly as important as their ability to get their hands on information stored digitally—that is, almost all the information available in the world.
When Bart turned back to face his friend, Rick was sitting forward, regarding him steadily. “I know, man. It’s extreme. But you see what’s going on now. Extreme is warranted, I think. And you’re the only one Sam would consider worth it. Soldiers are a dime a dozen. What we do? We’re fucking priceless.”
Bart rubbed his belly, where the word HORDE was inked into his skin. He shook his head. “I can’t. Shit, I can’t even make it straight in my head. Turn my back? No way.”
“That’s not what it is. It fixes things. I mean, yeah. I got selfish motives. I like where I am. I got a little condo, nice view of the water. And I need to keep a low profile. L.A. is too hot for me. ”
“And not for me?”
“Not like it is for me. Plus, you got that cute little piece of ass.” He sighed and pointed to the door. “Listen. What’s going on out there? That’s the end of the Horde, man. Sam isn’t leaving unless the Horde is patched over or history. It’s not even what C.J.’s been saying. He’s just been bitching more than anything else. Most damning thing he’s told Sam, far as I know, is that Lilli is calling the shots. And I know that’s not true. So does Sam. What’s got him wound up is that C.J. is in touch at all. He’s a fucking officer. He’s got clear line of sight to everything. That’s a big break in the ranks, and this is a shit time for it to be happening. The Scorpions have powerful business partners. Those partners were glad to see an end of Ellis, but they are not happy with what’s been going on here since. Too much attention. A weak link in the Horde is a ve
ry bad thing. And now it looks like there are two weak links.”
“But the attention’s not on the Scorpions or anything they’re doing.”
“You are not that naïve, Bart. We’re one degree of separation. One good intel specialist, working for law, and we’re up to our asses in wiretaps and plants. Fuck, man, I was a good intel specialist working for law.”
“You understand that C.J. and Vic are both dead, right? Probably before the day is over. I don’t see them surviving that vote. That leaves six Horde. I can’t make it five.”
“You understand that unless we give Sam another solution, he’s ending the Horde, one way or another. You’re already outnumbered in your own clubhouse.” Rick sighed again. “Bart, man—think. We could call it a loan. Just until the attention from the movie is done.”
Okay. Bart turned away again. He put his head to Rick’s idea, deciding to consider it fully. His stomach lurched.
Could he leave the Horde? His brothers? Could he go to the Scorpions?
“I’m not that hardcore, Rick.”
Rick laughed. “Shit, man. You think I am? You’re way more hardcore than I am. I’m not a fighter. And anyway, I barely get my hands dirty. The benefit of a bigger club—people stay in their roles. They have people to get dirty. I stay clean and in the clubhouse, for the most part.”
Bart let his brain do its thing, sorting through the information, seeing the pattern, playing out probabilities. Rick was quiet and let him, but after a few minutes of silence in the room, he asked, “Bart—do you see any other choice?”
No. He did not. It was the only way to save the Horde. If it worked at all.
“Okay. I gotta talk to Isaac. Alone.”
Rick nodded and stood. “Yeah, man. Of course. I won’t say shit until you know your play.” They shook hands and pulled into a quick, back-slapping embrace, then left the room.
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