by Abby Weeks
“Town’s good. I guess I’ll need a place to spend the night.”
“There’s a motel off the highway here.”
“That’ll do,” Josh said.
Josh spent the night in the motel and woke up early the next morning and continued west and north out of Val-d’Or in the direction of the Ontario border.
XX
JOSH TRUDGED ALONG THE SIDE of the highway and tried to stay out of the spray of the passing trucks. He saw the Velvet Cat from a distance and shook his head. He knew exactly what kind of a place it was. Everyone knew that the DRMC made a lot of money whoring out young girls. More often than not, those girls didn’t have any say in the matter. For a lot of guys, the fact that the girls had no choice in the matter added to the allure of the place. It was like raping a girl without having to worry about the consequences. Josh never understood guys like that. It had got him in more than his share of fights.
It pained him that Jack Meadows’ daughter had ended up in such a place.
From the outside, the Cat looked like any other roadside bar. It had a worn wooden facade, a few loose shingles on the roof, and a sign over the door. There was also a small board taped inside a window that said One Percent. That was a sign to bikers and everyone else that the bar was owned by a club. It meant no one would cause trouble, not even the police if there were any in these parts.
Josh entered the bar and it took a minute for his eyes to adjust to the dim light. He couldn’t believe that Rex had condemned a girl like Rose to a place like this. How could that son of a bitch have been so vindictive? Turning on your own brothers was one thing, a reprehensible thing, but going after their children? That was unforgivable.
For a brief moment Josh wished he’d taken more time in killing Rex. He could have made him pay a higher price for the things he’d done. But that had never been Josh’s style. If a man had to pay the price for what he’d done, he might as well do it fast. He wasn’t able to take pleasure in hurting another man, no matter who he was. He’d never tortured anyone. The important thing was that Rex Savage was dead now.
The bar was empty and he walked up the counter with a slow, tired gait. He’d been walking all morning, he’d covered miles, and had only managed to get a few short rides from drivers along the highway. His feet were killing him. He pulled up a stool at the counter and then stopped short.
*
THERE SHE WAS!
*
SHE WAS STANDING NOT TEN yards from him, her deep, blue eyes staring at him like a deer caught in headlights. He’d never seen someone so beautiful and knew he’d die before he ever saw someone that beautiful again. He recognized her instantly. There was no mistaking those big, round eyes. They were the eyes he’d seen on a child ten years ago and even then they’d made a deep impression.
He wanted to say her name, Rose, but he didn’t dare. He didn’t know how she would react. If the bar owners overheard him and realized he was here for her there would be trouble.
But he couldn’t take his eyes off her. He knew he was staring but he didn’t care. She looked up at him, slightly startled, and he just looked right back. Her face was fresh and youthful. Her hair was long and rich. She had a brightness about her that Josh thought was almost angelic.
He knew the years must have been hard on her. He felt so bad that she had had to feel the pain of losing her father, her only family, at such a young age. If there was anything he could have done about that he would have done it. Looking at that face now, he felt like the only thing in the world that mattered was protecting that beautiful girl, getting her away from this horrible place, and keeping her safe from as much pain and suffering as possible.
“Can I help you?” she said.
Josh was dumbstruck. He was usually a pretty quiet guy, not the kind to talk too much, but he’d never in his life felt like he did right then. Words literally escaped him.
“I’m just here,” he said, unable to finish the sentence, not even sure what the sentence would have been if he had finished it.
“You certainly are,” Rose said.
“I mean, I’d like a beer.”
*
WHEN ROSE CAME OUT OF the changing room she felt like everything in the world was coming to an end. She couldn’t handle this life any longer. She’d been forced to spend the night with Serge and Rust and they’d treated her as brutally as two men could treat a woman. They’d hurt her, forced themselves upon her, and when they were finished they’d left her a quivering, shaking wreck. She could still feel the stickiness of their cum on her skin, on her face. It was there even though she’d washed herself a hundred times.
If something didn’t change soon, she knew that she wouldn’t survive. Someone like her couldn’t live in a place like that forever. One way or another, even if it meant harming herself, the end of it was coming. It had to.
*
AND THEN, IN WALKED A STRANGER.
*
SHE RECOGNIZED HIM IMMEDIATELY AS the drifter she and Serge had seen earlier when they were riding in from Val-d’Or. The very first thing she felt was fear. It was fear for him. She knew that Serge had marked him as a biker and that could only mean trouble for him. She wanted to warn him, to tell him to get the hell out of there while he still could, but she couldn’t bring herself to say anything.
All she could do was look at him. He was just gorgeous. It was as if the entire room, the entire world, filled up with sunshine when he entered. He looked tired, worn out, dirty, unshaved, but there was just something about him. The way he moved, the confidence of his motions, his swagger, it just made her heart beat a little faster. This was the kind of man she pictured when she closed her eyes at night and fantasized about being rescued. This was the kind of man her father would have picked out for her if he was still alive. She knew it.
There was something about him that almost reminded her of her father. The last ten years had been hard, she tried not to think about her father too much because it was so painful, but every now and then she saw someone, or something, and it reminded her of the man her father had been. Everything about this man, from his boots to his faded jeans to his classic leather jacket and messy long hair reminded her of her father.
She couldn’t say a word. She knew that she should say something, that she should offer him a drink, but she didn’t want that moment to end. It was too magical, almost like a spell, and she knew that as soon as she spoke the moment would be over and the spell would be broken.
She wanted to ask if she knew him, if their paths had crossed some time in the past, maybe back in Montreal, but she didn’t. She just asked him if he wanted a drink and he said he wanted a beer.
She went behind the bar and started pouring a pint a Canadian. It was the best beer they had in that place so that was what she was giving him.
“You must be tired,” she said, looking up at him shyly.
He smiled at her and it was too much. She had to look away. She didn’t want to blush.
“I’m fairly tired,” he said after a moment.
“I saw you walking earlier.”
“You passed me on the Harley.”
“We did.” She regretted saying “we” as soon as it escaped her lips. She didn’t want there to be a “we,” not between her and Serge Gauthier.
“Was that your boss you were riding with?”
Rose looked up at him again. Why was he asking her that? She looked around. No one was there. She’d taken the Ford to open up the bar that morning. Serge and Murdoch and Rust were all back at the house, sleeping off their hangovers. They could arrive at any minute though.
“It was,” she said.
“He go by the name of Serge Gauthier?”
In all the time that Rose had been working out at the Cat, no one had ever come around asking about Serge. The DRMC practically owned this part of the world and people didn’t mess with them. She didn’t know what it was that this man wanted with Serge but something told her it wasn’t good. It might get him killed.
“Y
ou don’t have any business with him, do you?”
“Matter of fact, I do,” the man said. “I have a score to settle with him and I aim to do it.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
The man nodded. “A man’s game charges a man’s price.”
Rose shook her head. “You can’t come in here and talk like that,” she said. There was a pleading in her voice. It wasn’t a threat, it wasn’t even a warning, she just didn’t want to see anything bad happen to him and she knew what Serge was capable of.
Josh shrugged. “Don’t worry,” he said, “I know all about the DRMC.”
“That’s exactly why I am worried. They kill people as soon as look at them. If you come in here saying you’ve got a score to settle with Serge, there’s only one way it can end. He’s the VP of the Val-d’Or chapter.”
“I know all that,” Josh said. “And I can’t change any of it. The fact is, I’ve got a score to settle with Serge Gauthier and even if he was the King of England himself, I’d still have to square up to the son of a bitch and settle that score.”
“You’re crazy.”
Josh nodded. “Maybe,” he said. “Is Serge going to be in here soon?”
“He should be here any minute, him and two other guys.”
“Good.”
Josh leaned back and finished his beer. He reached into the inside of his jacket and pulled something out. Rose tried to see what it was.
He looked up at her and cleared his throat.
“You want to have a seat?” he said to her.
“I’m fine where I am,” she said.
“It’s just, I’ve got something important to say to you.”
Rose looked at him. Something about him, about the way he was talking to her, told her that he really did have something important to say. She couldn’t imagine what it was but it was one of those moments in life that she knew to pay attention to. Such moments only came along once in a long while and when they did, she knew to take note.
She pulled up a stool next to him and prayed that Serge or one of the others didn’t walk in.
“Your name is Rose Meadows, isn’t it.”
It wasn’t a question, it was a statement, and as soon as she heard it Rose felt like fainting. The blood drained from her face and she paled like a ghost. She closed her eyes and her head spun. The man had to take a hold of her to stop her from falling off her stool.
“How do you know that?”
“Because I’ve seen you before. A long ways from here, a long time ago.”
“Where?”
And then, just as she said it, she knew that she didn’t need an answer. She remembered him. She realized what it was about him that reminded her so much of her father. He was the man who’d led her and the others out of the basement of the Sioux Rangers clubhouse.
It was too much. She’d been so scared that morning all those years ago, so terrified, that she often wondered if she hadn’t invented that memory in her mind. She wondered if she’d created that hero, that angel, to lead her through the tunnel and out to safety.
Here he was!
“Whoa,” he said as he steadied her on her seat.
She smiled at him. “It’s a good thing you told me to sit down.”
“I’ve got something for you,” he said.
He handed her the old photograph. It was a little faded, a little creased and worn from being carried around for so long, but the picture was still perfectly clear.
Rose had never seen the image of her mother before but when she saw that photograph she knew what she was looking at. It was almost like looking in the mirror.
This time, she really did faint, just for a second, and when she opened her eyes she was in his arms. He was holding her steady in those strong, firm arms and all she wanted in the whole world was for him to lean down, just a little bit, and kiss her.
*
“TAKE ME WAY FROM HERE.” Those were the words that were ringing through Rose’s mind as the man brought her over to the stage and laid her down. She felt foolish. He’d given her a photograph of her mother and she’d responded by fainting, but he didn’t seem to mind.
“Are you alright?” he said.
She looked up at him. She was fine. As long as he was there, she was fine.
“You have to tell me your name,” she said.
“I’m Josh,” he said, “Josh Carter.”
“Well, Josh Carter,” she said, “take me the hell away from this place.”
Josh smiled. He seemed to like that.
“You got a ride?” he said.
“Not a bike, just an old Ford. I don’t even know if it will make it out of here.”
“That’s okay,” Josh said, “we’re not leaving till I settle my score with Serge.”
XXI
ROSE WAS IN THE CHANGING room, gathering together her few belongings and throwing them in a bag, when she heard the motorcycles pull up outside. Serge and the others had finally arrived. She’d pleaded with Josh not to stick around but he’d told her there was no way on God’s earth he was running away from that place without facing them. He said he’d rather die fighting than live as a coward.
Rose thought that was the bravest thing he could have said. She respected it. But she was so scared. She didn’t know how Josh could stand up to all three of them and she didn’t see how it could end in his favor. Now that Serge and Murdoch and Rust were here she was even less sure that it would end well. She prayed he wouldn’t get killed.
She tried to remain brave. She tried to have the same attitude Josh had. Maybe this wouldn’t work out. Maybe she and Josh would never get to leave that place. But they could at least be strong and dignified and fight the battle that had to be fought.
Thinking that way, the way Josh had said, gave her courage. She knew that she didn’t have to control the way things turned out with Serge. All she had to control was the way she faced up to him.
Serge’s was the first voice she heard from out in the bar.
“Well, well, well,” he said loudly as he came in from the lot. “If it aint the mysterious drifter, here in my bar, drinking my beer, no doubt looking to score with my fucking woman.”
Josh had told Rose to wait back in the dressing room if things got violent but she couldn’t. She hurried out to the bar as soon as she heard Serge’s voice.
Josh was sitting at the bar, his back to Serge and the other two, and they were standing behind him, still at the door. It seemed to annoy Serge that Josh hadn’t reacted to his taunt. Josh hadn’t even turned around to face him. That showed how little he was afraid.
“Hey,” Serge said, “I’m talking to you.”
Josh remained perfectly calm and took a sip of his beer as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
Serge looked at Rust and Rust went forward to the bar and put his hand on Josh’s shoulder.
“Hey,” Rust said, “the man’s talking to you.”
“I heard him,” Josh said and took another sip of his beer.
“Well, you going to answer him?”
Josh put down his drink and turned slowly to face Serge. Serge was still standing by the door with Murdoch. They looked like two idiots. They didn’t know how to take this strange drifter who’d arrived on foot and didn’t respond to their threats.
“Are you Serge Gauthier?” Josh said.
“Who the fuck is asking?”
Josh reached into his jacket and immediately Rust pulled a gun from his belt. Josh looked at him and pulled a packet of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket.
Rose was amazed. She’d never seen anyone act like this before. She had no idea what Josh was doing, what his plan was, how he imagined this was going to turn out in his favor, but for now she was just so amazed at the way he was acting that she didn’t think about any of those things. She looked at him, his deep, confident eyes, the way his hair fell in front of his face, and watched him light his cigarette as if he didn’t have a thing to be worried about.
“You bet
ter start talking straight,” Serge said to Josh, “or I’ll have my friend here rip you a new asshole.”
Josh got up from his seat. He was facing Serge.
“Well listen very carefully,” he said, “because I’m only going to say this once.”
Rust couldn’t believe the way Josh was speaking. No one spoke to Serge Gauthier like that. Even the people who didn’t know his reputation could tell from the look of him that he meant trouble.
Josh said, “I’m going to kick your sorry ass, and when I’m done I’m going to ride out of here on your bike, and your two friends here are going to watch me do it.”
When Josh said that, even Serge laughed.
“That’s some pretty big talk for a guy who walked here.”
“Oh, and one more thing. When I leave, I’m taking her with me.” Josh pointed at Rose.
That was about all that Serge could take. He made a motion to Rust and in a second, Rust’s fist was headed for Josh’s face. Josh ducked and grabbed Rust’s wrist and slammed it down against the bar. It made an awful cracking sound and Rose saw it bend backwards as it hit the solid wood of the bar. In the same motion, Josh had his pint glass in his hand and it came crashing down against the back of Rust’s head.
As Rust slumped to the ground, Serge and Murdoch rushed forward toward him. Josh leaned back on the bar and lifted his feet out in front of him. Murdoch, like the bumbling idiot that he was, ran straight into Josh’s raised boots with his chest and fell down on his back.
Rose couldn’t believe what was happening. It looked like Josh might actually pull this crazy stunt off. Rust and Murdoch were on the ground and didn’t look like they’d be getting back up any time soon. Serge was alone against Josh now, and despite his size and brawn, from what she’d seen, Josh could easily take him on.
Was this really possible? Could she actually be escaping form this hellish life? She watched in desperate hope as Josh got back down from the bar in time to dodge a crazed swing from Serge. Josh thrust a fist up into Serge’s stomach and then rose up in a fierce leap, hitting Serge on the chin with a powerful uppercut.
Serge stumbled back. Rose could hardly restrain herself. But then, in an instant, there was a handgun in Serge’s hand. She didn’t know where it had come from but he had it pointed directly at Josh’s face. The evil grin that Rose recognized so well reappeared on Serge’s face and she saw that all was lost. A single pull of the trigger and Josh would be dead. He would be gone from her life as suddenly and as inexplicably as he had appeared.