Ellen stared into his face. His mouth was a tight, angry line, but his eyes gently considered her. Ellen looked down at her sandaled feet. The still air was suffocating. She rubbed her fingertips across her forehead and sighed. This man’s chauvinistic attitude irritated the hell out of her, but she also understood it. A woman had to be careful of her safety, especially a mother. Leaving Ron’s cottage so late, when she knew there was no cell reception for miles, made her vulnerable. Ellen’s irritation subsided.
“No one is looking for you, are they?” Mason asked, moving closer.
Ellen backed away but was trapped by the car. Mason stood in front of her. She smelled wood smoke. He wasn’t lying about camping. Was it safe to tell this man the truth? He was a stranger, and yet there was a familiarity about him that she couldn’t quite place. She’d already taken the chance to step out of the car, should she take another? Looking upward, Ellen searched Mason’s eyes for any trace of malice. There was none. Only concern.
Ellen exhaled.
“No one is looking for me… yet,” she admitted.
Her confession arrested time. The night fell silent, all movement ceased, the humid air dampened their skin. They watched each other until Mason broke the paralyzing enchantment.
“I’ll get you home safely.” His words barely audible, he turned toward his motorcycle.
Ellen leaned against the car. She shook her head to shake off the perplexity of the moment.
“Have you ever ridden on the back of one of these before?” he asked, standing alongside the bike.
“No. I’ll stay here while you go and get your friend.”
Mason walked back to her. “I’m not leaving you here alone. It’s not safe.”
“You’ve been very kind, but I don’t even know you.”
“Look, Ellen, I know you’re scared, but I’m not going to harm you.”
“I’m sure that’s what all the serial killers say to their victims.” Frustrated by her helplessness, Ellen kicked the gravel.
Mason sighed. “About five miles down this road there’s over a hundred bikers who have been partying all day. If some of them get a little crazy and decide to take a scoot down this highway and see you sitting alone in your car, God knows what they’d do. And no lock is going keep them out. If you’re with me, no one will bother you. I promise.”
Ellen bit her lower lip. His eyes were so hypnotic. She didn’t know why, but she believed him. If he wanted to harm her, what was stopping him? He didn’t need to take her somewhere else to do it.
“Come on,” he motioned, heading to the bike. Mason scissored the motorcycle and then kicked up the stand.
“Climb up. Put your feet on these.” He flipped down the rear foot pegs on either side of the bike. “Wearing shorts, you better be careful of the pipes. They’re hot.”
Ellen took a deep breath and then swung her leg over the leather seat. It was a little high, and the bike tipped slightly as she tried to balance herself. Mason steadied the bike between his legs. Ellen gripped the chrome bar on the back of the bike.
“All right then. Let’s go get Mad Dog. Put your arms around my waist and look over my shoulder when I get this hog started. When we come to a curve, lean with me, but not too hard. Got that?”
Ellen nodded. “Yes, I’ve got it.”
Mason faced front and turned on the ignition. The bike’s loud thunder shattered the silence. Carefully he guided the motorcycle off the gravel and onto the smooth asphalt. Within seconds, the two were heading into the darkness. The sultry August air sheared Ellen’s skin, whipped across her face, and tore through her scant clothing. She now knew why people wore leather when riding a motorcycle.
Soaring, Ellen marveled at the weight of the air pressing against her. The throaty rumble of the bike drowned out all sound. Paradoxically, the ride both soothed and exhilarated her. Cautiously she wrapped her arms around Mason’s waist and tucked her head into his back. The hardness of his physique amplified his power. She closed her eyes and breathed in the rugged smell of his denim vest. The realization that she hadn’t been this close to a man since Paul’s death seven years before roused a carnal impulsivity. Ellen wondered what it would feel like to slip her hands beneath this stranger’s T-shirt and run her hands up the length of his naked abdomen. Ellen shook her head.
Oh my God, I am desperate. Instead of me worrying about what this man could do to me, maybe he’d better worry about what I could do to him.
***
Mason arched his back when Ellen wedged herself up against him. Her breasts pressed into the very spot where Spider had kicked him, and her fingers squeezed his tender muscles, the aftermath of Mad Dog’s punch.
He tried to keep his focus on the white plane of light illuminating the highway, but the warmth of Ellen’s thighs hugging his distracted him. Yellow and white lines blurred. He pulled his bandana up over his nose as the air cut across his face. He rolled the throttle. Speed would help shake his feeling of déjà vu and quell the edginess this woman provoked. What if one of those crazy ass bikers had found her instead of me? He didn’t want to think about the possible scenarios. Thank God I found her first.
Rounding a bend, Mason leaned and Ellen leaned with him. He eased off the throttle. The gravel road leading to the rally was fast approaching. He turned off the asphalt when he saw the large red reflector Spider had placed at the junction. Dark, indistinct foliage besieged the rutted dirt road. The bike’s headlight bobbed erratically, casting a stark beam of light into the shadows. Two men carrying rifles stepped into the light. Ellen’s grip tightened around Mason’s waist. He flinched, clenching his teeth. He stopped the bike, letting it idle. The two men approached.
“Where the hell have you been?” the shorter of the two ranted. “You said ‘a short ride.’ Who the hell is this?”
The man’s ferocious eyes glared at Ellen. She stiffened, squeezing Mason tighter. Pain shot up through his belly.
“Her car broke down. I’m going to go get Mad Dog and see if he can fix it. When I get up to the rally, I’ll have Spider send down a couple of guys to take your place. Sorry, but shit happens, you know?” Mason grinned. “Hey, hand me my rifle.”
The taller man reached into the bushes and handed Mason an M16. He slung it around his shoulder; it hung ominously across his back. Mason glanced at Ellen and saw the panic in her eyes. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to you. Hold on to the bar on the back of the seat. It’s not very far up this road, and we’ll be at the party.”
“Make sure you send replacements!” the shorter man shouted. “We’re getting our asses chewed by mosquitoes down here!”
“Will do, man.” The bike jerked into motion, and the two headed up the dark road.
After they had gone about a half mile, an old foursquare farmhouse reared up out of the blackness. The white glow of the moon spotlighted the eastern side of the monstrous structure, casting murky shadows across its front exterior. As they rounded the house, a large field came into view. Several bonfires illuminated rows of tents and people mingling in the carbon darkness. The smells of wood smoke and beer and the pungent aroma of marijuana wafted on the night’s breeze. Mason drove over to a barn and then killed the engine. He motioned for Ellen to get off, but she didn’t move. Still straddling the bike, he turned to face her. The poor woman looked petrified.
“Ellen,” he said gently. “You have to get off first. It’s easier that way.”
Ellen’s dark brown eyes stared blankly back. He nodded his head reassuringly. The muscles in her neck moved. She took a deep breath then got off. She stumbled when her feet hit the ground but steadied herself by grabbing hold of the seat. Mason kicked the stand down with the toe of his boot and then dismounted.
Mason smiled at Ellen. He knew she was nervous, so he tried to calm her. “You know, Ellen, I might look like Charles Manson’s twin brother, but deep inside,” he brought a closed fist to his chest, “I’m just a big, hairy teddy bear.”
Ellen’s eyes
narrowed, the corners of her mouth curling slightly. She took a deep breath and then rolled her front teeth over her lower lip. Mason studied her. Guessing Ellen to be about five-five, a hundred and forty pounds, he admired her shapely tan legs, the soft curve of her denim-clad hips and her round, full breasts tucked into a bra that allowed nipples to poke through her tank top.
“I shouldn’t have come here. This was a mistake,” Ellen said, looking around as if she were trying to find an escape route.
Mason clutched her shoulders. “Ellen, we might be a bunch of crude bikers, but no one here is going to hurt you. You’re safe with me, okay?”
Ellen rubbed the back of her neck. “I’m sorry, Mason. I’m just so out of my element. It’s not only you; it’s the move, the new job, being away from my home…”
“Shh….” He put his index finger to her lips. Their faces were so close that he smelled peppermint. “You’re losing me again.”
Ellen looked up at him. Her questioning eyes, as dark as the night sky, stripped him bare, subjecting Mason to a foreign emotion. He battled down the urge to kiss her.
“God damn it, Rambo, what the hell are you doing now?” Mad Dog, a tall man with the build of a linebacker, stomped towards them. His dark short hair and closely cropped beard framed black menacing eyes, seething with rage. “Wasn’t one ass kicking enough for you? You’re supposed to be working security.”
His shark eyes fell upon Ellen. “And who the hell is this?”
Mad Dog seized the front of Mason’s vest.
“Easy, you crazy bastard. Just let me explain what happened, will you?” Mason glared at Mad Dog. He clenched his hands into fists but kept them at his side.
“Start explaining,” Mad Dog said as he let Mason go.
Mason rolled his shoulders back, turning to Ellen. “Ellen, this crazy S.O.B. is Mike O’Donnell, aka Mad Dog.”
Ellen’s startled gaze traveled the length of Mad Dog, then back to Mason, who smiled.
“This is Ellen Abrams,” Mason said, looking directly at Mad Dog as he wrapped his arm around Ellen’s shoulder, pulling her closer. “She’s a damsel in distress, and we, my friend, are her knights in shining armor.”
“Shit, Rambo!” Mad Dog stabbed the barrel of his shot gun into Mason’s chest, “I ought to shoot you where you stand.”
CHAPTER two
“Put the fucking gun down, Mad Dog!” A tall, thin man advanced from the darkness, smacking the gun barrel to the ground. “What’s going on? And Rambo, where the fuck have you been? Who the hell is this?”
The man aimed an angry finger in Ellen’s direction.
Her knees wobbled. Mason gripped her tighter. She swallowed, but her throat felt as if she had been sucking on gravel. Her stomach lurched in panic. Dear God, I’m going to be sick.
Mason patted her on the back. He whispered in her ear, “It's okay, Ellen. It’s Spider and he won’t hurt you.”
“Who is she, Rambo?” Spider asked.
“Her name is Ellen Abrams. Her car broke down out on the highway. I brought her here, so Mad Dog could look at the car and hopefully get it going.”
The tall man walked over to Ellen. His cold menacing eyes made every muscle in her body tense with fear. His hair was pulled back into a long braid and a black do-rag covered the top of his head. Spider wore the same denim vest as Mason and Mad Dog, but he had a red patch sewn over the left breast pocket with the word; President embroidered across it. Leathery skin stretched over his lean facial features, and a handle bar mustache covered his upper lip.
His eyes drilled her. “Are you a fucking cop?”
His words struck Ellen like a sharp slap to the face. She slipped her hand into her jacket pocket and curled her fingers around the can of pepper spray. Too afraid to speak, Ellen shook her head.
Spider folded his tattooed arms across his chest. No one spoke. The men waited for Spider to make the next move. Apprehensive tears pricked the corners of Ellen’s eyes. Coarse laughter filtered through the darkness. Tension held the night in a choke hold.
“Mad Dog, fix this woman’s car. I don’t trust her. I want her the hell out of here.” Spider stepped closer. Ellen smelled alcohol. “Rambo, you fuck up one more time, and you’re out of the Sons of Thunder. But, before you go,” he squeezed Mason’s neck like he considered snapping it, “it’ll be the boot line. Are we clear?”
Mason’s face contorted with rage, but oddly he didn’t fight back.
“Yeah, we’re clear.” Mason’s voice was raw with anger.
Spider dropped his hands to his side. “Good. Now get rid of her.”
Spider turned and began to walk away.
“Spider, Monk and Rocko wanted me to send replacements. What should I tell them when I get down there?”
Ellen couldn’t believe Mason had the nerve to detain this man any longer.
“I’ll send Diamond Back and Blade down,” he replied, continuing on his way. “Now get out of here; before I really lose my temper.”
***
Mad Dog looked up at Ellen from under the hood. Motorcycle head lights illuminated the engine. “Well, looks like Rambo was right. Your alternator belt broke. There’s no way to fix it until Monday.”
Mad Dog dropped the hood and then wiped his hands on a small cloth.
“Here’s what I’ll do. I know a guy with a wrecker; I’ll give him a call tomorrow, and then he can take you home and drop the car at my shop. I’ll fix it first thing Monday morning, and you’ll be back on the road again.” He smiled.
“How are you going to call anyone? There’s no cell reception out here.” Ellen sighed.
“That big farmhouse we passed, that’s Spider’s old man’s. It’s his farm we’re partying on. He has a land line.”
“You mean there’s a working phone here?” Relief swept over Ellen. “Just call another towing company.”
Mason stepped out of the shadows. “He’s not calling anyone. It’s late and we can’t chance the heat showing up.”
Mad Dog stuffed the cloth into his back jean pocket. “Rambo’s right: we can’t call tonight.”
“What?” Ellen’s throat tightened. “I’m not asking to call the police.”
Mason stood at her side. “Spider’s old man won’t want any outsiders anywhere near the farm tonight. Do you have any idea how much trouble he could be in if some cops showed up and busted the rally? Not a good idea.”
“If I could just talk to him and explain things, surely he’d allow me to use his phone. After all, his son doesn’t want me here. You heard Spider. If I go back, you risk getting him mad at you again. Maybe Spider could convince his father it would be okay?”
“No!” Mason shook his head.
“No?” Ellen repeated. “But why?”
Panic edged down her back. Sweat beaded her hairline. It occurred to her that no matter what argument she presented, they weren’t going to allow her to use the phone. It made no sense to keep her here, so what did they intend to do? Every book and movie she remembered of raped and murdered women streamed across her consciousness. Stupid! Stupid woman! How am I going to get out of here? She had to get back into the car. Gripping the pepper spray still hidden in her pocket, Ellen slowly backed up to the driver’s door. Consumed with fear, she struggled to keep her voice calm. “All right then, I guess I’ll stay in the car until morning.”
Ellen rolled her shoulders back. With her free hand, she groped for the door handle. Her thumb rested on the release button. “Thanks for your help.”
“You’re not staying out here all alone,” Mason said, coming threateningly close.
“I’ll keep the car locked. What could happen?” She pressed her thumb down.
“Rambo’s right, lady. You can’t stay out here all by yourself. What kind of men do you think we are?”
A low growl rolled up from the obscure tree line. Immediately, Mason jerked Ellen behind him. The moonlight cut long shadows across the hardwoods and exposed the misty vapor of night crawling in the ravine. A m
osquito landed on Ellen’s arm. Instead of flicking it off, she watched it prepare to bite her, too afraid to move. Another growl… louder… closer… Mad Dog withdrew a pistol that had been concealed inside his denim vest. With both hands, he aimed it at the trees.
“Can you see anything?” Mason asked.
“I think it was a coyote, but I’ll go check it out, just to be sure.” Warily, Mad Dog walked down the gully towards the perimeter of the forest.
“Be careful. It might be a wolf,” said Mason.
Mad Dog disappeared in the darkness. Mason faced Ellen and said, “You’re coming back with us where you’ll be safe.”
It was only the two of them. Her chances of getting into the car had improved, but Mason was practically on top of her.
“Really, I’ll be fine right here. After all, I am an adult, and I do think I know what I can and cannot handle.” She sounded much braver than she felt.
“Look, Ellen, you don’t have to worry about going back to the rally. I promise no one is going to mess with you. You’ll be with a crowd of people where guys like Mad Dog and me walk around making sure no one does anything stupid. If those drunken bikers find out you’re here, all alone, and decide to have a little fun with you, then what? No one would be around to stop it. Staying here is not an option.” Mason shook his head. “You’re coming with us even if we have to bungee cord you to the back of one of those motorcycles.”
Mason’s arrogance transformed Ellen’s fear into fury. “Who do you think you are? How dare you threaten me!”
“Oh, it’s no threat.” Mason’s eyes widened. “It’s a fact.”
“Why you egotistical….” She whipped the pepper spray from her pocket. In mid-strike Mason captured her wrist, squeezing until the vial tumbled to the gravel. Then he booted it into the long grass growing along the road. Ellen, frantic now, twisted and yanked on her wrist, trying to wrench her arm free.
“Leave me alone! You don’t understand!”
With her free hand, Ellen pummeled Mason’s back. He seized her other wrist, forced her arms over her head, and bolted her to the car. She kicked wildly at his legs, trying to knock him off balance, but he straddled her.
The Word of a Liar Page 2