I need somewhere to hide.
Running down the path, I spotted a house with no cars in front of it and sprinted towards it, my chest burning as the sirens suddenly stopped. They’ve probably found the Land Rover already. Fuck. I forced myself to slow to a fast walk. Running looked guilty, and people would be looking out their windows after all that commotion.
“That noise for you?” a male voice asked as I crossed a driveway.
Startled, I turned and saw a guy who appeared to be in his late twenties working on a motorbike, ratchet in hand. I didn’t answer and kept going.
“You can hide in here if you like.”
That made me stop.
“Better hurry and make a choice. They’re moving again.”
I turned and saw flashing lights between houses in the next street over. Shit.
Rushing towards him, I hoped to God he wasn’t some kind of serial killer who liked to collect women in trouble then make lamps out of their skins.
“In you go,” he said, holding up a fabric tarp that was covering another bike. I got under it and curled up against the body of the Harley Davidson, holding my breath as my heart bashed against my ears. Calm down, I coached myself. You’re OK. Everything is going to be OK.
God, I hoped Kristian got away. I’d hate it if I took off and they got him instead of me. They needed to be able to finish the job. It was too important to give up all that effort. I needed to talk to him.
I can text!
Pulling the Blackberry from my pocket, I hit the home button to activate the screen.
Nothing.
“What the hell?” I muttered under my breath, hitting it again. Nothing. “Just work.” I hit it again, spamming the damn thing with my thumb in frustration until finally, the screen turned on.
I let out a silent cheer then readied my thumbs to start texting. Then the screen blacked out again.
Fuck. I considered smashing the shitty thing on the concrete at my feet when the screen lit again, and a GIF started playing. What is going on? A cartoon character in a trench coat was opening a safe. When it popped open, a man with a moustache was tucked up inside, holding up a note. The guy in the trench coat read it and slammed the safe closed. Then the message exploded and there was a comical flash where you could see the moustache man’s bones like an X-ray. After that, a little yellow dog popped out of a smaller safe that was on top of the bigger one. Is that…Inspector Gadget? It was. What the hell did that mean?
Anything goes wrong, you hit the home button three times and an alert goes out to everyone else, letting them know to dump and run.
Dump and run. Would they do that? Would they burn the job and leave over a stupid GIF? Oh my god. Fuck motherfucking fuck fuckery!
I needed to get back to the motel. Now. I shoved the dead Blackberry back in my pocket and went to lift the tarp. If I was fast, I could steal a new car and be back up there before they’d zipped up a bag.
“Stay quiet. They’re in the street,” the guy said, causing me to immediately back out of that plan and stay very still instead. All I could hear was the clicking of his ratchet as he tightened a bolt. Then I heard the engine of a slow-moving car.
“You see a blonde girl come running by here?” It was idling in front of the house.
With my adrenaline causing my breath to come out louder than normal, I placed my hand on my mouth to force myself to breathe through my nose and calm the fuck down. They’d drive by. They’d leave. And I could get out of here the moment the coast was clear.
“Not today. What’d she do?” the guy hiding me asked.
“We just need to ask her a few questions.”
“Sorry. Can’t say I’ve seen any girls today.”
“Call it in if you see anything.”
“Will do, Officer.”
There was a silence like they were staring at each other, then the engine whirred and slowly receded as the cops drove away. I was finally able to breathe again.
“All right, girl. You can come out now,” he said after a few more minutes.
I slid my way out and stood up, pushing my hair back from my eyes. He watched me carefully while he leaned on the seat of his bike and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. He offered me one and I shook my head. Nicotine and adrenaline didn’t go so great together in my book.
“I should go,” I said, pulling my backpack onto my shoulder. “Thanks for the tarp.”
He lit the cigarette and blew out the smoke. “Don’t be crazy. You can’t leave right now. They’re only a street over. At least wait a bit. There’re drinks inside. Take a load off.”
“I really should get back. I’m expected.”
“You’re expected.” He smirked and rubbed a hand over the full, neatly trimmed, dark brown beard. He wasn’t of the lumberjack variety who grew it for fashion. He was of the biker variety who grew it to keep their face warm, or maybe because that’s just what bikers fucking did. The tattoos on his arms identified him as a member of the Grim Order Motorcycle Club, a biker gang that had had more than its fair share of press over the past few years. What have I gotten myself into this time?
“Yes. My fiancé and his brothers. They’ll be waiting for me to make my way back to them.” I lifted my hand above my head to indicate how huge they all were. “There are five of them.”
He chuckled. “Listen, babe, you don’t need to make up a family of giant men to scare me off. I’m not gonna hurt you.”
“Why would I make them up? They’re real.”
“Sure they are.” He chuckled again. Why did he not believe I knew a family filled with mammoth men? “Listen, I’m just saying that you gotta lie low until you know if you’re in the clear or not. What’d you do anyway?”
I didn’t know if I should tell him, but figured, what the hell. “Stole a car.”
“OK. I have a scanner in the house. We can listen to see what’s goin’ on. Once we know the coast is clear, I’ll take you back to your giant brothers myself. Cool?”
Tightening my grip on the strap of my backpack I took a deep breath and nodded. He was right—those cops were still looking for me. I didn’t have much choice but to sit, wait, and hope Kristian waited too.
Leading me into the house, he opened the fridge and pulled out two beers, handing one to me. “I’m Travis. But my friends call me Breaker.”
“Do I dare ask why?” I asked as I took the bottle.
“Not if you’re squeamish.” He smiled, the corners of his eyes turning up a little and creasing in the corners. I decided to change my earlier assessment of his age and put him at mid-thirties. He was pretty good-looking actually—if you went for biker types.
“I’m Ronnie.”
“Nice to meet you, Ronnie,” he said, nodding his head as he took a mouthful of beer.
“Is it?” I asked, and he chuckled. He liked a good chuckle this guy.
I watched him open a cupboard door and pull out a battery-operated police scanner that he set on the table in front of me and switched on. There was a lot of nonsense being said that I didn’t understand, but I did understand the part that said: “Be on the lookout for a Caucasian female, late-twenties, blonde hair, around one hundred and seventy centimetres.” They were still searching the area, and noted I was assumed to be on foot and in Leura.
“They saw you,” he stated.
“I was wearing sunglasses,” I said, suddenly feeling as though the life of a hermit might be a really great alternative to my current life of crime. I just kept fucking things up.
He laughed, ran his hand over his beard, then picked up a remote and turned on the TV, flicking through channels. “You aren’t on TV yet, but it’s still early. Depends on how bad they want you, I guess. And if they got a picture...” He turned the volume right down and placed the remote on the table next to the scanner. “Since we’ve got some time, why don’t you tell me about these giant brothers?”
About an hour later, it seemed the search for the mystery blonde woman (me) had been called
off. There was chatter about monitoring train stations and bus lines. They even thought I might have jacked another car.
"Ready to return to your giants?" Breaker asked as he stood and tapped his pockets for keys.
“Eager to get rid of me?" I responded, standing with him and slinging my backpack over my shoulder. As wary as I’d been, it turned out he was pretty cool to talk to. He told me how being in an MC was a lot like creating your own family. Loyalty was a big thing for them, as was the freedom to live the kind of life you chose. I guessed that was why they had a bit of a messed-up relationship with the law—too many rules.
Breaker shrugged. "You can stay if you like, but with the way you've been bouncin’ your knee, I reckon you're gonna wear a hole in my floor if we wait much longer."
I laughed. But, it was an uncomfortable sound, because I was anxious as fuck. There hadn't been any mention of the cars they were driving over the police radio, and there hadn't been any mention of any one-hundred-and-ninety-three-centimetre men. The walkie-talkie was too far out of range for me to make contact, but, as far as I knew they were safe. Besides my accidental sending of the burn message, they had no reason to leave. Please be waiting for me.
"Put this on," Breaker said, holding out a smaller leather jacket. "Make sure your hair is tucked in the back of it."
Taking it from him, I slipped my arms inside the well-worn leather. A slight musky smell coupled with a rich, earthy scent filled my nose. This particular jacket was well used. "I like that you just happen to have a ladies’-sized jacket within easy reach," I joked, twisting my hair at the nape of my neck and sticking it in the collar.
He grinned. "Gotta be prepared for all situations, babe. I got a pretty pink helmet too if you wanna wear it.”
“I thought we were going for inconspicuous."
“Good point." He grabbed a plain black helmet with a dark visor and handed that to me. "I actually don’t have a pink one at all." He winked at me.
When we went outside, he pulled the tarp off the bike I'd been hiding next to and secured his own helmet to his head, sliding his arms into a leather vest that had his club emblem on the back of it. Then he got on the Harley and started it up, the engine roaring to life like some kind of animal warning. I felt the vibration in my chest just from standing beside it. It made me smile.
"You like that?" he asked, revving the engine.
“I've never been on a bike before."
“Then this’ll be a treat. Hop on. Hold on tight. You're never gonna want to drive in a car again."
My day had been one from hell, but the ride on that bike was fucking fun. I smiled the entire time we were on the highway, weaving in and out of cars, the wind blowing my hair loose and letting it flap in the air behind us. I squealed and laughed, and when we pulled up outside the motel, my cheeks hurt from grinning so much.
"That's almost as awesome as surfing," I said as I took the helmet off my head.
"Surfin’, huh? Can't say I've ever given it a go. Boards and bikes don't really go together."
I laughed at the mental image in my head. "Yeah, I can imagine they'd slow you down a bit."
He nodded towards the building. "So, where are your giants?"
That was a good question. The cars were no longer parked in the lot. My stomach dropped. I had a terrible feeling about this.
“They're probably inside,” I said, sliding off the bike and unzipping the jacket.
Please be inside.
“You know, you might not wanna hear this, but when things go wrong—especially when the law is involved—most people don't sit around waitin’ to get caught," Breaker said as I placed the jacket on the bike where I’d been sitting.
"I asked him to wait for me here. They wouldn't just leave me behind."
“I'm not sayin’ they'd want to, but if your fiancé saw the cops go after you like you said he did, maybe he thinks it's too hot to stick around. Now, I'm not pretendin’ to know what the hell a girl in a stolen car and five giant brothers were doin’ here, but maybe there's somewhere you're supposed to meet or somethin’. You know, if the shit hits the fan, disperse and regroup when things cool down?"
“Maybe we were just here on a holiday and decided to go joyriding?"
He gave me a look that told me he thought I was full of shit. "Wanna know how I know that’s a lie?" He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone, showing it to me. It was a Blackberry. Just like mine. “And since yours is bricked, I reckon someone hit the home button three times."
I pressed my lips together and looked away, breathing in deep to keep my emotions in check. They should have waited. They should have trusted me not to get caught.
“Let's go in and see if they're still around,” Breaker said, his voice a little softer. "What room number were you in?"
"Twenty-nine," I said, my voice small.
I’d messed up really bad this time. All that work and my stupidity made the job a bust. Fuck me sideways.
Following Breaker into reception, I waited a step behind him as he asked if room twenty-nine was available for hire. The girl behind the counter smiled and said, "You’re in luck. They just finished cleaning it. It was vacated about an hour ago." She opened a drawer and pulled out the keys. “How many nights you looking at?"
Breaker turned to me and lifted his brows. “How many nights are we lookin’ at, babe?”
My chest tightened as I blinked rapidly, trying to keep my shit cool. “I, uh…I think I want to stay somewhere else, actually,” I said, turning around and walking outside to suck the fresh air into my burning chest.
They left me.
He left me.
I was in a strange city.
I was alone.
Again.
Shit.
“OK. So what now?" Breaker asked as he joined me on the footpath.
I shook my head.
“Oh shit. You’re gonna cry, aren’t you?”
“No,” I forced out, my voice obviously strained with unshed tears. “I don’t cry.”
“You are. Your eyes are fuckin' puddles.”
I blinked and a tear splashed down my cheek.
“Ah shit,” he said. “I can’t handle tears.”
“I’m not crying,” I insisted even though rivers were streaming down my face.
“Bloody hell.” He pulled me into a bear hug, and all I could smell was leather and dust. “Don’t take this personal, babe. It’s not about you. It's the way this kind of stuff works. You get that, right? Criminals are like cockroaches. We scatter when the lights get turned on.”
“They’re supposed to be my family," I sniffed. “They could have waited an hour at least.”
Placing his hands on either side of my head, he pulled me back so I could look up into his eyes. “How old are you, babe?”
“Twenty-seven,” I sniffed.
“So you’ve got a lot to learn still. See, my brothers are my family, too. But when a ship is sinkin’, everyone bails. You save who you can, and the ones you can't help, you hope to God they're strong enough to save themselves.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Hopeful Comfort
“So, cars, huh?” Breaker asked as I took a mouthful of the instant coffee he’d made me. International Roast, yuk. It was bitter going down, so it certainly matched the tone of the day.
“Mostly,” I said, leaning on my forearm as I moped against his table. “I was always about opportunity more than planning, though. I tend to think well on the fly.”
“These brothers, they’re about plannin’?”
“Down to the last detail.”
After finding the hotel empty, Breaker told me I could come back to his place, and he’d help me get to Torquay since that was the only option left. I really hoped he was legit with that, because I didn’t want to be forced into becoming some biker whore like what happened on TV. But, so far, he’d been nothing but helpful, and my gut said to trust him. Go with your gut.
“Are cars good business?” H
e slid a cigarette between his lips then lit up.
“They’re OK. Do you mind?” I asked, pointing to the pack in front of him, he pushed it across the table and held the lighter for me. “Thanks.” I tucked my feet up on the chair and blew out some smoke.
“Seems you’re a long way from home pullin’ a job that just does OK.”
“What’s with all the questions?” I narrowed my eyes. “You the feds or something?”
“Just checkin’ what kind of criminal I’m aidin’ and abettin’.”
“What kind of criminal are you?”
He inhaled deeply, and I took a moment to inspect the tattoos on his hands, the words ‘respect’ and ‘honour’ in script just above his knuckles. Each finger seemed to have a rune on it, partially hidden by chunky silver rings. There wasn’t a lot of bare skin.
“You read the papers, watch the news? You already know.”
I nodded. Drugs, guns, violence. It was all the media could talk about whenever the Grim Order MC was mentioned.
“How long have you been doing it?” I asked.
“Became a prospect at fifteen. A full member at eighteen. I don’t know much else.”
“Do you ever regret it, getting involved so young?”
He shook his head slowly. “You?”
I pulled at the inside of my lip with my teeth. “I don’t know. This is really all I’ve ever known.”
“Then I guess you’re well ahead of most others your age.”
“How’s that?”
“You’re already followin’ your callin’.”
“All set,” Breaker said, handing me a prepaid phone and a bag with some chocolate cupcakes inside it. “Buzzard’ll take you all the way to Melbourne. You can make your way home from there. That work for you?”
I nodded. “Thanks for everything.”
“Call me when you get back. I wanna know you’re safe.”
“Sure thing.”
Foolish Games Page 19