by Brook Wilder
“Maybe not the old Elsie,” she muttered, more to herself than to her friend. “But the new Elsie? I’m not so sure.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! What is this ‘old Elsie,’ ‘new Elsie’ stuff? Oh my god, is it a cult? You have to tell me, Els, did you join a cult?”
“What?” She pulled back, looking sideways at her friend and shaking her head, trying to fight the laughter that Rachael always had a way of invoking. “No. No cults.”
“Okay. No cults. So, explain then.”
“I was… I was kidnapped,” Elsie finally admitted, to stop Rachael drilling her more than anything else. But she should have known better.
“What?” Rachael gasped. “Who! Where! I’ll kill them. If someone hurt you, I swear, I’ll gut them like a low down dirty fish. I’ll…”
“Rachael. Rachael!” Elsie had to yell to cut through her friend’s violent speech. Rachael was also extremely loyal. It was one of her best traits. “It’s okay. I wasn’t hurt. It was just a misunderstanding.” She took a deep breath, trying to figure out what to tell her friend. “Promise you won’t say anything, alright?”
“I promise,” Rae said instantly, at the same time drawing an invisible cross in the air over her heart, just like they’d done when they were kids.
“After I talked to you, I went out to check on some cattle that hadn’t come in earlier in the day.”
“Of course you did.”
“Anyway,” Elsie gave her friend a pointed look. “It was at the edge of the ranch and, when I got out there, there were no cows. But there was…”
“A sexy as sin biker guy just waiting to sweep you away on his steel steed?” Rae interrupted again, leaning forward in earnest.
“Something like that,” Elsie muttered. Rachael made it sound a hell of a lot more romantic that it had actually been at the time. “Like I was saying, no cows. But there was a guy. He startled Goat and he threw me… Oh, I didn’t even think about it. Is Goat okay?”
“That horse could outlive a nuclear apocalypse,” Rachael waved her hand. “I’m sure he’s just fine. Go on. With the sexy biker part.”
Elsie worried her lip nervously. She would just have to wait until she got home to check on Goat, but she knew Rae was right. It would take more than a momentary startle to do any lasting damage to that horse.
“Anyway, he was stealing. The cattle, that is. That’s why they weren’t there. And then I stumbled on his operation. He said he couldn’t risk letting me call for help. So, long story short, he kidnapped me. And then rescued me. Now I’m here and mostly fine.”
“Whoa. Whoa. Whoa! You just left out a major part of that story,” Rachael said.
Elsie cringed a little. She usually wouldn’t have hesitated to tell her best friend anything and everything, but some of those secrets weren’t hers to tell. The truth was, she also wasn’t even sure herself what her feelings were on everything that had happened.
“And what is that?” she finally asked, dreading the answer.
“You didn’t tell me about the super-hot, super sexy, super crazy-gorgeous man you came in with,” Rachael said, leaning forward with a surreptitious glance towards the window that looked out to the bull pen area of the station.
“Oh, um, well… I don’t really know what…” Elsie trailed off, unsure what to say, and was taken aback by the flash of jealousy that shot through her. Rachael had always been more of a flirt than her. Rachael flirted and Elsie didn’t—not until Hatchet.
But now she found herself not wanting to share any part of him, not even with her friend. She wanted to keep him all for herself. And it was an odd sensation, keeping things from Rachael. She was the one person that knew Elsie as well as she knew herself. Better even, sometimes. But still Elsie hesitated.
“Those tattoos. Those muscles. Those dark blue eyes that just see all the way inside a person.”
“Wait a minute, blue eyes?” Elsie asked, looking askance at her friend. She’d seen Hatchet’s eyes. She’d been up close and personal with Hatchet’s eyes. They weren’t blue. “Are you talking about Jackrabbit?”
“Mmm, ‘Jackrabbit.’ Is that a nickname or something?” Rachael said, talking to herself as she stared at the window. “I wonder if he fucks like one.”
“Rachael!” Elsie said, aghast.
“What? A girl can wonder.” They both shared a look and then burst out laughing.
“You are terrible,” Elsie finally said, drawing in a deep breath.
“I know. It’s just one of the many things that you love about me.” They shared a smile, a bond forged from years of friendship.
Elsie finally reached out a hand, taking one of Rachael’s in her own. “Listen, friend to friend, I need a favor.”
“Anything,” Rachael said, not even hesitating.
“I need to talk to Hatchet.”
“Hatchet? Is he the other guy they brought in? The guy that was all bruised and cut up like you are?”
“Yeah, that’s the one.”
“Wait a minute,” Rachael said, holding up one finger and leaning close. “Say his name again.”
“Why?” Elsie sighed in impatience.
“Just do it, alright? Humor me.”
“Fine. Hatchet,” Elsie said with a roll of her eyes at her friend’s antics. “Hatchet. Hatchet. Hatchet.”
“First of all, weird name. Second of all…” she leaned forward, dropping her voice to a whisper. “Oh my god, you totally slept with him!”
“What? What are you talking about…?”
“I can hear it in your voice, girl! You had sex, with Hatchet!” She paused, then shook her head. “‘Hatchet,’ really?”
Elsie just shrugged, not deigning to give her friend an answer. Instead, she leaned forward. “Are you going to help me or not?”
“Of course I am! It’s just that… no, not important now. You need to talk to Hatchet. No problem. I got you covered. But you won’t have long. Probably just a few minutes.”
“That’s all I need. I just… I just need to make sure he’s okay.”
Rachael paused, tilting her head to one side as she stared. “You really care about him, don’t you?”
“It’s impossible,” Elsie shook her head. “I mean, we literally just met. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Love rarely does, Els. Just give me five minutes and then come out, okay?” Then her friend was gone before Elsie could even form an answer.
Each second that she had to wait felt like an hour. She only made it three and half minutes before she poked her head out of the break room doorway. She did a quick scan of the room and saw Rachael expertly stalling her father, who had been talking to Hatchet next to one of the officer’s scratched metal desks.
That was when Elsie took her chance.
She made a bee line for Hatchet, catching sight of Rachael slipping back out of the sheriff’s office out of the corner of her eye. She nearly ran over to give her friend a hug. But she knew she wouldn’t have long to talk to Hatchet. She could save the hugs for later.
He was handcuffed, his hands held awkwardly on his lap as he tried to hold a pad of paper and a pen in his hand. It must be his statement.
“Hatchet!” Elsie hissed as she drew near. “Hatchet!” she whispered a little louder and his head jerked up, his eyes going wide on hers as she stopped beside the metal folding chair he was sitting in.
“Elsie! What are you…? Are you…?”
“We don’t have a lot of time,” she said quickly. All the while her eyes scanned him, taking in every bruise, every scrape, every cut. “Are you okay? When we crashed and then you wouldn’t wake up, I was so afraid. And then Mad Dog was there, and it was just all so…”
The sudden pressure of his lips on hers stopped her cold, and all she could do was hold on. All too soon he was pulling back again.
“I’m fine. Really, I’m okay. Are you? Were you hurt?”
“Nothing serious. I made it out just fine. But, Hatchet, what about Mad Dog? Is he going to come after you
?”
“I don’t know,” Hatchet said softly, his eyes never leaving hers. “But you need to keep yourself safe, alright? Until I get out of here. Fuck! I wish I could protect you, Elsie, I wish…” He trailed off as an officer walked over, giving Elsie a disapproving look, and she hastily backed away, pretending that she’d been doing something else all along. Definitely not talking to a dangerous criminal. Elsie McLaurel wouldn’t do something like that.
Elsie didn’t know what else to do as she stood there, wishing she could have had more time to talk to Hatchet. There was so much more she wanted to tell him, so much more she needed to ask.
As her eyes scanned the station they fell on the row of chairs lined up against the far wall. Jackrabbit was sitting there, in handcuffs just like Hatchet, waiting to give his statement. Rachael was there as well, talking to him. Well, more like flirting, from her body language. Elsie had no doubt that, given enough time, Rachael would have the tough biker eating out of her hands.
Rachael leaned forward, precariously close, and said something to Jackrabbit that had his eyes going wide. A moment later he threw his head back and let out a full-belly laugh. By the disgruntled look on Rachael’s face, that hadn’t been the reaction she’d been aiming for. The loud noise had drawn the attention of not only the other officers but the sheriff as well.
Elsie felt a moment of sympathy for her friend at the thunder clouds that formed on Sheriff Donohue’s features as he stalked over to Rachael, who was trying to give him her best ‘Oh, I wasn’t doing anything at all, I’m so innocent.’ look.
By the way Sheriff Donohue shook his head and lowered his brows, green eyes flashing fire just like his daughter’s, Elsie could tell he wasn’t buying it.
“Get these guys out of here!” the sheriff yelled, at no one in particular, and several of the officers turned towards him uncertainly. He pointed a rigid finger at one of them. “You! Take them to a cell. Now!”
The officer rushed to do what the sheriff ordered, gathering both Hatchet and Jackrabbit together and leading them towards the door at the back of the station, where the single cell was located. They were nearly there when the front door burst open. Elsie didn’t even need to turn around and see who it was. The reaction on everyone’s faces confirmed her suspicion.
Mark McLaurel had just arrived.
“Elsie!”
At the sound of her name spoken in the all too familiar, imperious way, she finally turned around, tilting her chin up as she did.
“Hi, Daddy.”
“What the hell is going on here? Sheriff! You better explain yourself right this minute. If anything’s happened to my daughter…”
“Daddy, please. It wasn’t the sheriff. He was just helping me,” Elsie said, then took a deep breath to steel herself as he stormed forward, not stopping until he was directly in front of her. He looked her up and down and Elsie realized for the first time that she was still wearing Hatchet’s oversized shirt and shorts. They were stained and ripped from the accident, not that they’d been in great shape before that either.
“Well, honestly, I don’t care what happened,” he finally said after a long moment of tense silence. “You can fill me in at home. But for now, we’re leaving.”
He reached out a hand to grab her arm, but she pulled away. “No, Daddy, I can’t just leave. They have men in custody who…”
“Who I intend to make sure are prosecuted to the full extent of the law!” her father growled.
“No, listen to me! This is just a misunderstanding. They were trying to help me, I swear!”
“No, you listen to me, Elsie.” He leaned close and talked in a low hushed tone, but each word was sharp enough to draw blood. “I don’t know what happened last night, and I don’t care to know, even though I can guess. But enough is enough, and someone has to pay for what happened. And I intend for those men to pay. Now, we are going home, and we will forget all about this unfortunate episode.”
Elsie stared at her father, her thoughts warring violently inside her. She glanced to the side and saw Rachael give her a sympathetic look. But in the end she had no choice but to follow Mark McLaurel from the police station. Before she left, she cast one last, long look at Hatchet, making him a silent promise to make things right. No matter what she had to do, she would make it right.
Chapter 16
Hatchet looked around the dingy jail cell and sighed. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen the inside of a cell since he’d started running with the Roadburners. It probably wouldn’t be his last. But it was damned uncomfortable. Ever since he’d gotten back from Afghanistan, he couldn’t stand small places, and right about now it felt like all four cinder block walls were closing in on him inch by inch.
“How are you doing over there, Hatchet?” Jackrabbit’s voice penetrated through some of the claustrophobia. Hatchet was starting to sweat bullets, but other than that there was no other outward sign of his discomfort. He’d spent years making sure of that. But he couldn’t hide anything from Rabbit.
“As well as could be expected.” Hatchet forced the words out through jaws that felt wired shut from how tightly he clenched them. “Talk to me.”
“What?”
“Talk, Rabbit. You know. You open your mouth and words come out. You’re pretty good at it.” Hatchet leaned his head back against the wall, trying to get comfortable on the hard cot he was sitting on. “Just talk, man. It helps.”
“So, you and Elsie, huh?” Jackrabbit said, and Hatchet rolled his eyes over to find his friend giving him a shit-eating grin. “Elsie McLaurel.”
“I know. I know,” Hatchet groaned.
“McLaurel,” Jackrabbit said again, drawing out the word and Hatchet wished he had something to throw at his friend.
“Shut up, Rabbit.”
“I thought you wanted me to talk.”
Hatchet glared at him, but it didn’t dim Jackrabbit’s grin one bit. After a moment his face grew serious again.
“Listen, Hatchet. I need you to know that most of the crew wasn’t cool with Mad Dog’s decision. He and his little group of ass kissers were the only ones willing to go after you guys. Everyone else stood up for you. Mad Dog was pissed.”
“I can only imagine,” Hatchet said, whistling silently. “I hope that didn’t cause you too much trouble.”
“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” Rabbit shrugged. “What do you think is going to happen to us now?”
“I have no idea.” Hatchet leaned his head back again. “I want a lawyer, and a bathroom break.”
“No, dumbass. I mean the club. The Roadburners. You weren’t there, man, but something shifted when they stood up to Mad Dog. He doesn’t have as much control over the crew as he thinks he does.”
“Oh, is that right, Jackrabbit?” a malicious voice interrupted, and a moment later Mad Dog himself stepped up to the bars of the cell. “Well, you can tell me all about it on the ride back to the clubhouse. I’ve posted your bail, you ungrateful piece of shit.”
Rabbit shot a confused look towards Hatchet and then back to the president. “What about Hatchet?”
“Ain’t that just the question. What about Hatchet?” Mad Dog repeated the question with a forced casualness, but Hatchet could see the rage burning in his eyes. “I’ve always said you got balls, kid. But you forgot who you work for.” Mad Dog’s voice turned harsh as he grasped the bars, spittle flying out of his mouth when he spoke.
“Give me your patch, Hatchet,” the president demanded, and at first Hatchet wasn’t sure he had heard the man right.
“What did you say?”
“Are you as deaf as you are stupid? I’m only going to repeat myself one more time, you bastard.” Mad Dog threw the words at him. “Give me your patch. You’re out.”
Shock went through him. No one was ever kicked out of the club. Hurt, yes. Killed, he had his suspicions. But Mad Dog never just let anybody leave. But then he remembered what Jackrabbit had said, about the crew standing up for him, supporting him against Mad D
og. Maybe the old man was afraid of what would happen if he tried to have Hatchet killed. Maybe that would be the last straw that would make the crew turn on him.
With no other choice, though, all he could do was slide off his leather jacket and flip it over. He swiped his hand over the patch he’d worn there for over a decade, the patch that told him he’d always have a home, always have a family… until Mad Dog had turned it into something else.
He grabbed the edges and ripped it from the leather, leaving just an outline of loose thread. It felt as if he’d ripped out a part of himself as well. With a sneer, he tossed it at Mad Dog.
“Take it,” Hatchet said, feeling a little like he’d just been thrown overboard and was adrift in unfamiliar territory.