by Davida Lynn
I bandaged Trask’s shoulder with the real thing, a far cry from the rags used to wipe down the bar. I threw the pile of them soaked with blood into the trash along with all the garbage I’d made taking out the bullet.
“Sleep now. I need you back in fighting form soon.” I laid a soft kiss on his forehead.
He nodded and laid back down. I watched him for a few minutes until I was sure he was out. Then I turned my attention to the president of the MC.
“Bear, we need to talk. I got a call.”
He and I sat down at the table once again. I caught him up on the phone call, the kidnapping, and the ransom.
He smiled, and I was confused. He spoke low so no one else could hear. “Then everything is going to plan.”
“What the hell do you mean?”
He shushed me, laying his hands on the table.
“Hey, hey. This is what we expected. This dealer plays dirty. He’s new in the game, but he’s got some tech. We’re guessing that he bugged your brother’s cage, so it doesn’t matter where he split, they’d find him easy.”
I was fighting to keep my temper down. “I thought this guy was small time.”
Bear nodded. “He’s small time in drugs. Look, the reason we even know about this cat is because one of our Sons used to work with him when he was legitimate. Beezer used to be a bounty hunter, so he’s good with tracking and finding people who don’t want to be found. According to our guy, he took down some dealer who’d skipped out on bail, and Beezer found him with like, ten kilos of coke in his car.
“Whatever happened, Beezer had a change of heart and a change of career. They found the dealer dead on the side of the road, and the drug ring got a new leader. Our guy didn’t stick around while the organization did some... restructuring.”
I remembered the trashed trailer and Mrs. Halburn saying men had been by. I had no doubt that Nick’s car had been bugged long before he disappeared. My blood was at full boil.
My words were steady and measured, like a hostage negotiator during a long standoff. “Please tell me we are going to fuck them up. Please tell me we are going to get revenge for Trask and get my brother back.”
Bear must have seen the anger in my eyes. He actually leaned away from me. “Damn Hope, what about that Hypocritic Oath?”
I ignored the mispronunciation and stared at him with diamond hard eyes. “I’m not a doctor yet.”
He looked me over, searching for some sign of weakness. The older man must not have found any. “Hate to admit it, darlin’, but you’re not part of we. We’re going after him, but not you. You’re staying here with him,” He pointed over my shoulder to Trask.
“I need to go. I need to do my part and get my brother back.”
Bear smiled. “I admire your spark, but my guess is you’re no good in a fight. The last thing we need is to drag a war nurse around with us.”
He saw that I was about to speak again, and he put a hand up to stop me. “This ain’t no UN summit, Hope. You stay. I’m gonna leave three here with you and Trask. And before you say anything, remember that I’m doing this for him.” He looked past me to Trask again. “But I’m going to bring your brother back. So, lucky you; you found a way to turn us into a charity, after all.”
He was right. I had no place to argue. “Thank you.”
The president of the biker club nodded. “You need anything else before we ride?”
“I don’t think so. I’m gonna keep changing his dressing. He needs sleep. In the morning, I‘ll be able to tell you if he needs real care.” Trask had been doing well throughout the night so far, and I really believed he’d pull through, despite my arcane surgical methods.
I jumped when Bear roared, “Sons, let’s get the plan straight.”
Every biker in the club pulled a chair up to the president. He waited patiently as they all sat in a large circle around him. I moved back to Trask, listening, but not part of the actual conversation.
Bear looked around at all the faces. “Vegas, why don’t you catch us up on Beezer.”
My heart jumped as I stared at the prospect. He had been the one with the bounty hunter when he switched careers? I was shocked that he hadn’t mentioned it the entire time we’d talked.
He stood up, looking a little nervous to be an expert and prospect at the same time. “All right, well, I’ll give you a quick rundown on what I know. His real name is Ronald Bezarius. He’s in his late forties, and he’s been bounty hunting for about fifteen. Ex-cop, but apparently the money was too good pulling in skippers. About three months ago, I guess he found that dealing is better money than bounty hunting.
“I was a sort of apprentice under him. I studied criminal justice in school and couldn't get a job once I graduated, so I figured I’d try to get some experience before the next LEA application round. The guy’s smart. That’s the main thing I want to get across. The dude knows tracking, and he knows how to hire good people around him.
“All his crew are ex-military or ex-cops. I think he was reluctant to take me on, but I was so gung-ho about being a cop he must have had a soft spot for me. Anyways, four months ago, we get a bounty for a suspected dealer wanted on distribution charges. Beezer tracked him down to the Cali-Nevada border, and when we stopped the dude, there were kilos and kilos of coke in the trunk.
“I don't know if he’d been planning something like this for a while, but he basically told us to get on board or wind up like the guy with two bullets in his skull. Obviously, no one said a fuckin’ word. He must have had this planned out, because it was like he fell right into the routine. He had the contacts above and below. He knew who to pay and who was supposed to pay him. I didn’t stick around long after that. Drugs aren’t my scene.”
Vegas turned to Bear and shrugged. “That’s that, I guess.”
Bear nodded. I could see that the president respected the prospect. Vegas was proving himself to be a real asset to the Rising Sons Motorcycle Club.
Bear stood and looked around at his brothers. Trask squeezed my hand with the lightest of touches, and I turned to check on him. He was still breathing slow and deep, sleeping sound.
“They shot Trask. That’s the bottom line. He was wearing his cut, and they should have known better. This Beezer doesn't know better. He put a bullet into a Rising Son. There’s no warning or second chance.” When I turned back, he held Trask’s leather cut in his hand.
“This is your warning. This is all you need to know.” His voice rose to the rafters. “This fucker fucked with the wrong group of motherfuckers!”
The bikers yelled in unison and fury. Bear had them all riled up and ready for a fight. I couldn’t take my eyes off of the group. They had turned to animals.
“We scouted the place during the last ride. Security is minimal, but like Vegas said, these guys are trained. I can’t promise you safety, but if I could, we’d all be playing tennis at a country club. We’re coming back with one hostage, a Nick Cantwell.” Bear pointed up to the stage. “That one’s brother. I want him safe. Everyone else? I want them in the ground.”
After a pause, Bear asked, “Questions?” He waited, but no one said a word. “Good. We’re riding to the stockpile, then to the dealer’s place. Vegas, Thunder, and Rhodes, you’re staying with Trask and the doc. Everyone else? Let’s ride.”
***
Ten minutes later, Los Bandoleros was quiet again. Trask was still asleep, I was dozing in and out again, and the other three bikers were playing cards at a table near the front entrance.
Things were quiet around the bar, but the tension was thick. Trask’s fever was still high, and I couldn’t do anything but wait to see if the antibiotics would do the trick. Every time I woke up through the night, it was an instant, and panic set in. I’d spring up to check on Trask before my heart would relax.
He woke up a few times, but not for long. The night dragged on. Vegas would come up and check up on Trask. He was more concerned than the other two bikers that remained behind. Rhodes and Thunder didn’
t come up to talk to me. They barely even looked over.
I checked on my man once more around four in the morning before tucking back in. I managed to get a few hours of sleep, but even that was interrupted when I woke up with a gun to my head.
It was pure confusion when I woke up. I was yanked backwards, my chair falling down off of the stage. I had no idea what was going on. People were yelling and screaming all around me, and I was flailing my arms against the unknown assailant.
Whoever it was pulled me past Trask. He was still unconscious on the table. I looked down to see guns drawn and pointed in my direction. My pulse had gone from the quiet and easy level in a deep sleep to a mile a minute, racing and making me sharp, all of my senses at full tilt.
I tried to turn and see who was holding the gun, but his arm was across my neck, and he had me square and held tight. I tried to scream, but there was nothing coming from my mouth. I was in complete shock, and all the bikers screaming and pointing guns in my direction only made things worse.
I could feel my heart in my throat, but a voice reassured me. Even though it was screaming, it cut through all the noise to give me a little hope.
“Everyone, calm the fuck down!” It was Bear. He was on the floor looking up at me and whoever was behind me.
I smelled liquor on his breath, and he was breathing hard. I thought that Beezer’s men had taken the bar before the Rising Sons could get back. I tried to spot Thunder, Vegas, and Rhodes in the crowd, but I couldn't think or see clearly enough. Bear was the only one I could clearly recognize, staring at me from behind his pistol.
“We’re all cool down here, man. Tell us what you want. What the fuck’s this all about?” Bear’s eyes darted around the room, as if other people could burst in at any time. His voice was hard, his adrenaline no doubt tearing through his veins.
“You went after the wrong people, Bear. I tried to tell you, but you wouldn’t listen. We could have existed in peace. You do your thing, we do ours, but no. You let this bitch walk in and act like she owns the place.”
It was Vegas. I recognized the voice, but it sounded far shakier. He was scared. His body shook when he spoke. I was torn when I heard his voice behind me. Vegas had seemed like such a decent man, and he had helped me save Trask. Why would he bother if he was still working for Beezer?
“They shot a brother.” Bear took a step forward. “Does that mean anything to you, or have you been lying the entire time?”
Vegas pressed the gun to my head harder, and I winced. “You and your fucking brothers.” He practically vomited the word. “It don't mean shit, and you know it. You let Trask walk into a trap knowing he would do it for her.”
“You could have prevented that trap, Vegas, if you had told us. You knew. Didn’t you?” Bear took another step forward, his gun trained on the man behind me the whole time.
Vegas didn’t respond. His chest was heaving as his body raced to keep up with his mind. Whatever he had chosen to do, he wasn't invested in it fully. I could almost feel him regretting his decision, and that scared me.
Bear went on. “That’s what I thought. You put him in danger, not me. Not Hope, either. You need to point that gun somewhere else, before one of my boys gets a bit too angry, you understand?”
Vegas stepped back again. We were inching near the edge of the stage. “You’re gonna let me walk out of here. That’s what’s going to happen.”
Bear nodded. “That’s fine. You can walk out of here unharmed, but the doc stays with us. You let her go, and you are free as a bird, Vegas.”
Vegas let out the laugh of a madman, “You think I’m fuckin’ stupid, Bear? Sure, I’ll just move away from the meat shield and trust that you’ll all just let me walk out like it’s nothing. Get fuckin’ real. She’s coming with me.”
“Can’t let that happen. Vegas. You’ve got sixteen guns pointed at you, and you’ve got one pointed at a pretty young woman. Now, if that ain’t shit, I don't know what is.” Bear turned and looked around the room. All the Rising Sons had their guns drawn, waiting for their leader’s command. I feared that one of them would have an itchy trigger finger. One shot would set everyone else firing, Vegas included.
Both sides stood, one a rock, the other an immovable force, and I was trapped in between. I thought I would pass out. I was stuck between a madman and a group of bikers that were willing to kill rather than let someone go.
I closed my eyes, trying to prepare myself for death. I could hear the desperation in Vegas’ voice. There was no getting out of this. The bikers weren’t going to let Vegas walk out; with or without me.
When I heard the scream, it made me do the same, either out of instinct or commiseration. Either way, I thought it was the end.
***
The scream was cold enough to freeze liquor. It was terror and pain rolled into one. I fell to the ground, released from the grasp of the madman behind me. I began to run my hands over my body, feeling for any holes or bleeding. The Rising Sons t-shirt appeared to be whole. I opened my eyes and saw Trask standing over me.
It was more of a shock than waking up to being taken hostage. He smiled, standing over me like Atlas. I took the hand that he extended, and he pulled me to my feet. I looked behind me and saw Vegas face down on the floor, the X-ACTO knife I’d used during the surgery deep in his back.
I turned away, not wanting to look at him another second. The bikers were coming up the stage, holstering their guns. Some slapped Trask on the back while others dealt with Vegas.
Two Rising Sons grabbed him by the shoulders and dragged him to the door. He was groaning, the knife still embedded in his back. I stepped to the edge of the stage. “What are you doing?”
One of the bikers that had him by the shoulder turned to me. “He’s going out on his ass.”
“He needs medical attention. That’s a deep cut.” Maybe that Hippocratic Oath was inside me somewhere.
The other biker that was helping drag Vegas out of the bar added his two cents. “Trask was shot in the shoulder, got on his Harley, rode all the way to Los Bandoleros safely with you on the back, and went through surgery without any pain meds. This fucker can make his own way.”
I stopped. I couldn't argue with that logic. I shrugged, and they continued on taking him out the door. I couldn't believe that it was morning, but the sun was shining outside. I turned back to Trask, utterly confused. He knew it, too.
“I think Bear and the club have some explaining to do. Believe me, I need it, too. I woke up and saw Vegas with a gun to your head, and I just acted.”
I tore some rags long ways and fashioned a quick shoulder splint for Trask. I needed to take some weight off of his shoulder, and at the same time immobilize it so he wasn’t moving it and causing internal damage. He really shouldn't have even been up and walking around, but since he saved my life, I figured I’d let it slide. He wouldn’t have listened to me, anyway.
He put his good arm around my shoulder and I helped him down the steps. He took his time down the three steps, and I could see his exhaustion when he fell into a chair across from Bear. They looked at each other for a long time before the president of the club spoke.
“Surviving?”
Trask’s confident smile was back. “I’ve felt better, but I’ll live. What about you? Mind filling me in on the night?”
Bear gave Trask the look of a proud father. “Oh, nothin’ much. Hung around kicked back a few brews, took down a corrupt bounty hunter slash drug dealer. Saved your woman’s brother, too.”
I looked back over toward the door and realized that someone had come into the bar. At first I assumed it was a Son. Then I realized it wasn’t just another biker that had come into the bar, but Nick.