by Evelyn Glass
He couldn’t think straight. Thoughts of Eleanor swirled around his head, unbidden, unwanted. He usually tried his best not to think of her, but it was a hard task to accomplish when he found himself dealing with the only woman—after her—who had managed to truly grab his attention.
No more, Dirk thought fiercely.
No more would he let himself fall under Camilla’s spell.
His cell phone rang on the passenger seat, and he jumped. He stole a look at the display and his stomach clenched when he saw Stephan’s name flashing at him. How did the man know?
He reached for the device and picked up, putting his president on speaker.
“Yeah,” he said, as laconically as he could.
“Dirk, we have a problem,” Stephan’s clipped voice came from the phone’s speaker.
You have no idea, Dirk thought gloomily. Aloud, he said, “What is it?”
“We think the Tar Mongols might be getting the Vandals involved. Johnny saw them make a deal in the park earlier tonight.”
“Fuck!” Dirk cursed heartedly, punching the steering wheel for good measure.
“Yep.”
The California Vandals were nothing more than thugs, but they were efficient thugs at that, and them getting involved wasn’t a good thing. Besides, the thought of a second gang watching their every moves wasn’t a thrilling one. Too many enemies at once was always a very difficult thing to handle, even for the Minutemen.
“Are you sure?” Dirk asked, even though he knew the answer already.
“Pretty sure,” Stephan said, predictably. “Positive, in fact.”
“What do you think Ruiz offered them?”
“I don’t know,” Stephan admitted. “But it wouldn’t take much to get the Vandals to step in. You know they’re always ready for violence. Besides, it’s no secret they don’t like us very much; we’ve stepped on their toes once or twice.”
“Yeah,” Dirk said, with a satisfied smirk in spite of everything. “I remember.”
The jeep hit a massive bump, and the whole vehicle jumped.
“Shit!” Dirk cursed through gritted teeth, barely able to get the car under the control before it flipped over.
“What was that?” Stephan asked.
Oh, fuck. Dirk swallowed nervously. “What was what?”
“That metallic clang and screech of tires,” Stephan said, matter-of-factly. “Are you in the car?”
“Uh…” Dirk figured there was no point lying now. He sighed heavily. “Yes.”
“I thought you sounded way too alert for someone who had received a phone call at three forty-five in the morning.”
Dirk didn’t say anything. What could he possibly say?
“Why are you in the car, Dirk?” Stephan asked. His voice was calm, which was generally a bad sign.
Dirk thought fast. “I couldn’t sleep,” he said. “I thought I’d go for a ride to clear my head.”
“And you left Camilla alone at your house?” There was skepticism in Stephan’s voice.
Dirk cringed. It didn’t make sense even to his own years. He would never leave a virtual stranger at his house unsupervised. And they both knew it. “Yeah,” he said, deciding to try anyway, because really, what did he have to lose at this point? “She’s asleep; I figured she couldn’t do any damage.”
Stephan was silent for a few moments. Then he said, calmly, “Dirk, you know I hate it when people lie to me.”
Dirk sighed heavily. He was busted. His stomach tightened with suddenly renewed tension. “She snuck out.”
“Excuse me?”
“She snuck out and stole my bike. I’m going after her.”
There was silence again. And then Stephan burst out laughing.
Dirk blinked. Of all of the reactions he had pictured, that certainly wasn’t it.
“What are you laughing at?” he asked in disbelief.
“You, Dirk Coleman,” Stephan said, and even though he had finally stopped laughing—after quite a while, one might add—his voice still rang with it. “Tricked by a woman.”
Dirk scowled fiercely, even though the other man couldn’t see him. “I wasn’t ‘tricked,’” he protested, although he was. And they both knew that, too.
“Sure,” Stephan said, “whatever you say. Do you need backup?”
Dirk blinked. Stephan sounded calm, and it wasn’t the kind of calm that settled over him before the storm came. “Aren’t you mad?”
“Nah. She was trouble from the start. I knew something like this might happen. Besides, she doesn’t know the desert. She can’t get very far.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Dirk said. He wondered why on Earth Stephan had not warned him against Camilla if he had sniffed out such a risk, but he refrained from asking; truth was, he was quite afraid of the answer.
“Just get her back,” Stephan said.
Dirk nodded firmly, more to himself than to the man on the other side of the phone line. “I will,” he vowed.
“So how did she manage to pull this one over on you?” Stephan asked, conversationally.
Dirk rolled his eyes. “Seriously?” he said. “You want to chat now?”
He could almost hear Stephan’s shrugging as he said, “I’m curious.”
Dirk hesitated. “You won’t tell the men, will you?” His authority would be shot to hell if any of this were to get out.
“Nah,” Stephan said. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
“She wore me out,” Dirk admitted, and the words burned on his tongue. He had been so stupid! “Sexually,” he added for good measure. “Then she stole the garage’s key while I slept.”
Stephan laughed again, long and heartfelt. “You know what? I’m really glad I didn’t kill her.”
Dirk growled at the back of his throat, even though if he were to be honest, he was really glad Stephan hadn’t killed her, too.
Chapter 22
Camilla didn’t stop. It would have been the sensible things to do, all things considering. To stop and wait for the Minutemen to catch up and let them take her back to Dirk. After all, to keep running would only enrage Dirk further, and she had the feeling she did not want to see the dark—well, darker—side of Dirk.
But she couldn’t stop. To stop would mean to give up, and she figured she had done enough of that over the past few weeks. It was time to take her life back into her own hands, for better or worse. She was tired of being jerked and bossed around. So Camilla kept running, willing the black Harley-Davidson to go faster and faster.
It was really no surprise that they caught up to her in the end. They were expert bikers, and they knew the territory. Camilla could barely keep herself in the saddle and had no clue where she was going; for all she knew, she might have been going in circles. She tried to sneak past them when they flanked her, but they swerved their bikes so that they formed an acute angle, effectively preventing her from pushing through. Camilla let out a cry of anger and frustration, and she stopped the bike. There was no sense in continuing further. Her run was over. It had not been a particularly good run, either.
She planted one foot on the ground, still refusing to completely get off the bike, and tossed her long ponytail over her shoulder. She crossed her arms over her chest defensively and glared at the men—even though she was in obvious disadvantage.
“I suppose you’re proud of yourselves,” she said. “Dirk sure will be pleased with you.”
One of the two laughed softly. For some reason, it was a sound that brought a chill to her bones. “No, I don’t think Coleman will be very pleased with us at all.”
Camilla frowned. And then her blood turned stone-cold in her veins as she finally took a really good look at the men standing on either side of her. Dark olive skin, dark hair. Dark stubbles. Dark eyes. Dark souls, probably, too. These were not Minutemen. They were Tar Mongols.
Camilla felt icy fear settle over her. She stood frozen for what felt like an eternity…
…and then her fight-or-flight instincts finally t
ook over. She jumped back onto Dirk’s bike and revved it back up to life. She turned on the gas to a maximum and raced forward. The two thugs were too stunned to do anything, and she pushed violently past them, speeding back out onto the desert.
They recovered quickly, but Camilla’s little stunt still gave her the very slight, very short-lived advantage of the element of surprise. She raced, as the desert wind whipped at her face and hair, reminding her that life was harsh and hers might just be coming to the end.
No! Camilla reprimanded herself sharply. I can’t think like that! I’ve got to keep focused.
She couldn’t afford to give into her rising panic. She couldn’t afford to let them win already. She raced forward, thoughts of Dirk swirling into her head.
She didn’t know why she was thinking of him at a time like this. Maybe it was because, even with everything that had gone down between them, she still half expected him to show up and rescue her, guns blazing. Come to think of it, that wasn’t so crazy. After all, he was her best chance at survival, given the recent turn of events. But she may also be thinking of him because, no matter how much she tried to resist and deny it, she was falling for him.
Camilla was anything but stupid, and even she had begun to ask herself a few questions about Dirk and herself. Why did they keep doing what they were doing, having sex at any time of the day and night, when it would be so much simpler to stop? Why did they sleep together after they came? Why didn’t they just retreat back to their separate bedrooms in the afterglow? Why was it that they couldn’t keep away from each other? Maybe it was just animal instincts, two people cooped up together and letting out their tensions? Or maybe it was something more? Camilla didn’t like to think about it too much, but she had begun to strongly suspect the latter was the case.
She wondered what Dirk would do if the Tar Mongols caught up with her and killed her in the end. How would he feel? Would his anger towards her dissipate? Would his fury turn on to the Tar Mongols? Would he seek revenge? Or would he be relieved that the complication that was Camilla Hernandez was now gone from his life?
That latter notion made her stomach turn. Could it be that that was all she was to Dirk? A complication? A nuisance?
Camilla shook her head to push those thoughts away. If that had been the case, he wouldn’t have kept her around for as long as he had…or would he? Perhaps he was just following Walker’s orders. Perhaps it was Stephan who wanted her around for some reason, while Dirk would have delivered her over to the Tar Mongols a long time ago… No, that could not be. It had been Dirk who had persuaded Stephan not to give her up when the Tar Mongols had killed that Minutemen lieutenant and his family in retaliation for keeping her from their ruthless president, Herman Ruiz.
Camilla took a deep breath as she rode through the desert. Her head was spinning with unbidden—and very much unwanted—thoughts. Why now? Why was she thinking of all of that now? She should just be focusing on her mad, wild ride. Instead, her mind was reeling. She felt so confused…
There were two twin roars behind her, and she turned around long enough to catch sight of the two Tar Mongols hot on her heels. She felt despair crawl over her, plaguing her. She couldn’t outrun them; she knew that now. Yet, the alternative was to just roll over and die, and she simply couldn’t bring herself to do that.
So she rode on, until they flanked her again, both on her right side. To the left, a canyon opened its red mouth in the desert ground. Camilla swallowed hard. She knew she was trapped, but she tried to make one last daring escape anyway. She sped up. The Tar Mongols moved. There was a crash and a thud, the deafening sound of metal striking metal. In a horrifying moment of clarity, Camilla realized that they were trying to send her into the canyon. Panic overtook her, but she somehow managed to stay in the saddle.
There was another thud, and another. Camilla wished Dirk would appear like in a bad action movie, silhouetted against the desert moonlight. But Dirk didn’t come. There was one more thud, much stronger than before. Camilla cried out as the bike swerved. She somehow managed to get it back under control, her thighs burning from the exertion of keeping a Harley-Davidson upright.
The Tar Mongols moved again. They moved in unison. They crashed into her, two bikes slamming into one. Camilla screamed. Next thing she knew, she was rolling down a ravine in the Mojave Desert.
***
“Really, Stephan, shouldn’t you just hang up already?”
“Hell, no. This is the best entertainment I’ve had in weeks. It’s like that hot car chase show on TV, only better.”
Dirk huffed in annoyance and sat up a little straighter in the driver’s seat. It was a surreal kind of situation, chasing after a hot woman who had tricked him, with his president and friend on speaker in the passenger seat. It felt like a bad movie.
“This is pretty ridiculous,” he said eventually.
Stephan chuckled from the other end of the line. “Yep.” A moment’s silence. “You could always turn around, you know? We’ll look for her tomorrow. She won’t get far, anyway.”
“Yeah, you’ve said that,” Dirk snapped. “I’m not turning around.”
“Really?” There was a smirk in Stephan’s voice.
Dirk cursed. “You fucker!”
Stephan laughed. “Oh come on, just admit you like the girl already.”
Dirk rolled his eyes. “Seriously? Are we really having this conversation while I drive around in the desert in the middle of the fucking night?”
“I don’t know. Are we?”
Dirk clenched his jaw. He loved and feared and revered Stephan Walker, but sometimes he could be the most annoying person on the entire planet.
“We shouldn’t be having this conversation at all,” he finally said.
“Why? You won’t have it with anyone else.”
“I won’t have it with you, either, thank you very much.”
“If you don’t like her,” Stephan began, ignoring him completely, “then why are you chasing her? Why did you stop me from giving her over to Herman Ruiz after the bastards killed Alex and Maggie and the children?”
Dirk’s stomach lurched at the memory. He was only glad he hadn’t been the one to find the bodies even though war and life had hardened him, he wasn’t sure he could have survived that.
“You know why,” he said when he trusted his voice enough not to waver. “It wouldn’t have been right.”
“It wouldn’t have,” Stephan admitted. “But it was more than that for you.”
“What the fuck do you want from me, Stephan?” Dirk finally snapped. “Even if I did like her, and that’s one big, huge ‘if’, what could I ever do about it?”
“Oh, plenty of things.”
Dirk snorted. “Shut up. That’s it. I’m not discussing this any further.”
“But—”
“If you don’t drop it, I’m gonna hang up.”
“All right,” Stephan said quickly. “I’m dropping it. Just don’t deny me the pleasure of the chase.”
“You’re not chasing anyone.”
“I’m there in spirit.”
Dirk rolled his eyes.
He drove on, grateful that Stephan had finally lapsed into silence. It gave him time to think. He didn’t know what he would do with Camilla once he caught up with her—because there was no “if” about that; he would catch up with her. He didn’t know what he would say to her. He wasn’t even sure about what he would be feeling, whether he would be more relieved that she was all right or angry that she had tricked him and gotten away from him. Because that was one more thing that Dirk wasn’t allowing to be an “if” in his mind—Camilla would be all right. She had to be. He simply couldn’t cope with the thought of losing one more woman he cared about—
Whoa. He stopped short in his musings. Where’d that come from?
He clenched his jaw and tightened his already iron grip around the steering wheel. He had to keep himself grounded. He couldn’t let himself become influenced by Stephan’s ramblings. And what
was up with that, anyway? Had the man swallowed a women’s magazine? Was he reading romance novels behind everyone’s back? Since when was Stephan about setting people up with other people? As far as Dirk was concerned, those weren’t the kinds of setups the president of an MC should worry himself with.
Dirk’s mind was reeling. He hated it, but try as he might, he couldn’t keep his thoughts still. He couldn’t empty his head like he did whenever he was in combat. Camilla seemed to hold some kind of power over him, and it was driving him nuts. He simply couldn’t get her out of his head. He should be chasing her as the woman who had gotten away. He should be chasing her as the woman who had tricked him. Instead, he was chasing her as the woman who made his brain short-circuit.