Vacant MC

by Bella Knight

  “Server down, leg,” called out Sigrun.

  Wraith jumped over the glass and ran back toward the lockers, where she found both a wall-mounted first aid kit and some clean aprons. She ran, slid, and got behind the counter. The woman was ashen, her face going gray, green eyes in slits. Her name tag said “Winnie.” Wraith and Sigrun got the wound clean and a pressure bandage on. There was a veritable lake of blood on the floor; she’d been hit in the femoral artery. As Bannon shouted for an ambulance, Winnie gasped, and died right there.

  Wraith went around to the cook. Pedro had turned off all the burners, and he and Rai, the busboy, and Esteban, the dishwasher, were all in back, shivering. “Stay,” said Wraith. “They’ll ask questions, then send you home. Any of you illegal?” They shook their heads. “Anyone see who did it?” They all shook their heads again. “I’m sorry about Winnie. She seemed like a nice person. Just hang out, give your statement twice, probably, then you’ll be sent home.” She handed out her card. “This place’ll probably be closed for repairs. Call me tomorrow. I’ll give you some charge cards so you can pay the bills.” They all nodded.

  “Why you so nice to us?” asked Rai. “Bein’ white an’ all.”

  She said, “That fucker just killed someone tonight, probably killed two. White, black, brown, red, hell; pink with purple polka-dots, it doesn’t fucking matter. Some asshole with an automatic weapon.” They all bumped fists with her, and she walked back out front.

  Lieutenant Pocero was there, surveying the damage, as the paramedics pronounced Winnie dead. “What are the chances of this not being related?” he bellowed to her; to all of them.

  “Diddly and squat, Lieutenant,” said Wraith. “We just wanted some damn waffles.”

  “We were also no longer in our medieval finery,” said Herja. “I don’t like being either followed, or shot at.”

  “I’ll have someone sweep the bikes for trackers,” said Bannon.

  “This is fucked up,” said Sigrun, coming back from around the counter with Wraith. “Been here before, and Winnie’s been my server before. She’s about thirty, married, two kids. Fucker who did this is going down.”

  Special Agent French showed up, the coroner in tow. “Well, this does not bode well,” she said.

  “Still doesn’t make sense,” said Wraith. “We didn’t get a clear look at the shooter from the last scene, and everything else is in court records.”

  “Also, the shooter went from a single-shot weapon to automatic weapons fire,” said Saber. “Either two shooters, or two weapons. Possibly meant to make us believe some gangbangers did this.”

  “Not their style,” said Wraith. “Generally, here, they go for asshole, flat-weapon shots that hit kids instead of the intended victim.” She held an imaginary gun out, rotated her hand until it was parallel to the ground, and pulled an imaginary trigger, twice.

  “What the fucking hell is going on here?” boomed Assistant District Attorney Hector Capobianco.

  “Why don’t you tell us? Starting with why you’re here and not safe somewhere?” asked Special Agent French.

  “I went to see Ray’s body, and went to find the witnesses,” said Capobianco. “Heard about a shooting over the scanner. Who the fuck are you?”

  “Special Agent French,” she said. “I know who you are. Get the fuck out of my crime scene and go home. We’ll be using federal prosecutors for this one.”

  “I need to…” he said, taking a step forward. He then found himself with an arm up behind his back, as Special Agent French rushed him out the door and into the desert night.

  “Oh ho,” said Bannon. “A clue.”

  “A rat, methinks,” said Sigrun, falling into the cadence of the bard they’d listened to that day.

  Wraith nodded her head. “I’ve worked with him before. Didn’t think he, or anyone in that office, was dirty. Or, I woulda taken them down myself.” She thought a minute. “Could be it wasn’t Ray.”

  Bannon nodded. “Well, you Valkyries have someone to protect.” They all looked at Wraith. “Fine. Now Pocero, get us the hell interviewed so we can go home and I can get my guns.”

  The interviews took several hours, both Pocero and FBI. They finally all went home. Sigrun, Wraith, and Saber all got into the shower, first Saber and Sigrun, then Wraith and Sigrun. They washed each other, dried each other, and then Saber braided Wraith’s hair, while Wraith braided Sigrun’s hair. They all climbed, exhausted, into bed, Wraith in the middle.

  Wraith had her first nightmare in a long time, of a metal box slamming into her side, of flying through the air, of the sickening crunch onto the ground. Those ugly moments of her life dilated, repeated, along with the pain, and all the exhausting hours of recovery time. The fear she’d never walk again, or ever speak correctly. Then, her brain went back to the assassination attempt, then mingled with the gunshots at the waffle restaurant, hiding under the table, and her frustration for leaving her gun at home. She woke up screaming, with Sigrun whispering into her ear, Saber shaking her to wake her up, and both of them holding her when she came out of it.

  She shook, wept tears of rage and pain, and held onto both of them until it passed. Then, she grabbed Sigrun, and kissed her, gently at first, then hard. The shaking wouldn’t stop, but by then she just wanted to fight her way into life. Saber kissed her hair, slid his hands down her breasts, and parted her legs. He ran his hands under her buttocks, kissed and nibbled her thighs. He made her come and come repeatedly, with his blessed tongue, and she came hard, fast, with her body breaking apart, again and again. She felt like a leaf floating on the wind, and pulled him on her, in her. She wanted to lose something, destroy something, in the blast of her heat.

  Sigrun took over, resplendent in her rage, her pain, her inability to fix Wraith’s core. “I can’t take it away,” she whispered into Wraith’s ears, and into her mouth. “I can only love you.”

  “We can love you,” said Saber, cleaning them both up with a wet wipe.

  Their screams and cries mounted, hands everywhere, then sliding into their wanting, wet heat. Soon both women came in great juddering gasps and moans. They laid there, shaking, for a long time, and Saber cleaned them up again. They held on, one on each side of Wraith, holding her tight. She kept kissing them, one and then the other, until she finally slammed into sleep.

  They were all silent as they got up, dressed, ate egg, bacon, and English-muffin breakfast sandwiches, and went about their day. Saber had court, so he went off to wait to be called, then testify against three cartel members, in federal court. Sigrun had a mural to paint, so she rode with Wraith to Skuld’s class, then went on her way. Wraith had some rage to let go of, so she sparred with the law enforcement officers, a mix of DEA, ATF, and FBI agents. She threw people and was thrown, rolling around like a billiard ball. Finally, two classes later, Wraith exhausted herself, after the hard work sparring in the sun the day before, and from the broken night, just gone.

  “PTSD sucks,” said Skuld. “Drink your water and go take a shower. And go easy. I had to stop you from dislocating Cargill’s shoulder and from breaking Rosa’s neck.”

  Wraith nodded and took the shower. She came out to find Skuld there with a towel. “Dry yourself, get dressed. I’ll be out soon.” Skuld went for her own shower.

  “Yes, boss!” said Wraith, mockingly.

  “Now,” said Skuld. “Food. Barbecue, I think.” She rode, and Wraith followed. They went to a nearby barbecue restaurant, and ate pork sandwiches and fries, washing them down with Cokes. “Now, we’re both exhausted, and I have paperwork to do. There’s a cot in my office.” They went back to Skuld’s office, where she filled out paperwork.

  A band was warming up in her mixing studio, the same one from the night before, the Gaelic one. A young man in all-black was at the controls. Skuld nodded at him and went back to the office. Skuld was halfway through a stack of correspondence and bills when Wraith’s phone slipped out of her hand. Skuld grabbed it, closed the eBook program, then put a soft maroon bl
anket over Wraith. She put the phone in Wraith’s vented jacket pocket.

  Skuld got through the whole stack of paperwork, and went out to mix with Skull, her mixer trainee. The skirls of the pipe and fiddle and the beat of the drum had her dancing in her seat as she mixed. She got a good session out of them; they’d spent the entire afternoon and half the night warming up for this one.

  Rota came home from her climb and hike, her hair still wet from the shower, her arm bandaged. Skuld pointed at the arm, then gave the band a five-minute break.

  Rota laughed and kissed Skuld. “Newbie. Slipped. Idiot wiggled around like a fish on the line in panic. Scraped my arm on a rock dragging his fool-ass up. I made him dress it. Man has to learn some time.”

  Skuld kissed her again and jerked her head backward. “Sleeping Beauty Wraith is in there. Her PTSD is coming out; the shooting brought it back from the accident.

  “Bastards,” said Rota. “We hear anything?”

  “Bannon’s right pissed,” said Skuld. “Don’t see this as a mystery for all that long.”

  “We keep our girl safe, and let him do his thing,” said Rota. “I think this is going to get even uglier than it is.”

  “I do too,” said Skuld. “It’s gonna get nasty. I’m even contemplating heading to Key West for some Maine lobster until this clears up. She’s been through too-fucking-much for this to happen, now. She’s tough, strong, but she’s no longer in an alphabet agency. If she pokes her nose in, she can go to jail, and I’ll make you a solid bet that the bad guys have people in there.”

  “The Keys are good this time of year,” said Rota. “Make a great ride. We have to extricate ourselves a little bit, or move stuff forward to get it done, but…”

  “But our girl is worth it,” said Skuld.

  “Fuckin’ A,” said Rota.

  Both women looked at Wraith as she slept. She was too damn important to all of them. They needed to protect her, no matter what. They needed to be her rock, like she had been for so many others over the years. They smiled at one another, knowing how much they loved her as a Valkyrie sister.

  “A renaissance is a new beginning. If you find yourself in one, then begin.”

  About the Author

  Bella Knight writes what she loves--romance, Bad Boy Bikers to Hot Rockstars to sexy Sports Romances love. She feels the love from her Las Vegas home from her rescue animals and her various love interests. She is constantly reading and writing, and she also leaves the animals with friends from time to time and hops on planes. She enjoys life to the fullest.

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  Afterword

  A huge "Hi" to all my fantastic readers! Thank you so much for reading my latest title. I hope you loved it so very much!

  Can I ask a huge favor? As an author, I know readers love to see reviews from other readers on Amazon. So, if you loved this title, would you mind leaving me a great review? I would be truly grateful if you could do that so everyone can see your input, too. Click link here to leave a review - Vacant MC

  Also, if you have any wonderful or genius ideas, or some brutal but honest feedback on how i can improve just drop me a line via email -newsletter@bella-knight.com- I'd love to hear your thoughts! all your feedback helps me write better for my lovely readers :)

  Oh, if you haven't received my free giveaway book, you can get it here http://bella-knight.com/ Sending all my love and gratitude. Always yours, Bella Knight!!

  P.S. Thank you ever so much, I'm sending all my love and best wishes, always.