by Brook Wilder
“I doubt it,” he said. “She never went out with a guy. Then again, there seems to be a lot about her I don’t know. She was always shy as fuck around guys that came to the bar and I don’t think you can really fake that, you know?”
“She faked the innocent act,” Hanna pointed out.
“Point taken, but she was smart and bright and quiet. She just had a lot going on under the surface,” he said, shrugging.
“And there’s not a chance she had a lot more going on romantically—or otherwise?” Hanna asked. She felt bad, forcing him to picture his baby sister in this way but she needed to be certain. This could be the different between a lot of things, about how they handled things from here on out.
“Well,” Roarke said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “There was this period over the summer. She took a bunch of trips to New York City. She said she went with some friends or something but…”
“But that sounds like the prime time that something could have happened.”
Something seemed to snap behind Roarke’s eyes as he realized something. He sat down quickly, huddling in close to Hanna. The party continued around them but Roarke held her gaze and let his fingers tap on the counter with anxiety.
“What if Isabelle is in the same situation as us?” he said.
“Meaning?”
“A Caracal. She had no real information to give them about the Pharaohs,” he said. “The younger sister of the president is good for bargaining but they aren’t using her like a hostage. They let her in. Why would they do that when everything about that situation would seem like some kind of setup?”
“Can you get to the point?’ she huffed.
“What if she’s in with one of them, too? Maybe even Isiah Clark, at the worst case scenario,” he said.
She paused. There was a real chance of that, she realized with a sinking stomach. Isabelle could easily be pregnant with a Caracal’s kid. It would also make her words make sense, the fear of raising a child in that environment, an environment that the child was born into. It was falling into place and she met Roarke’s eyes with her own that she was sure were round in fear.
“Fuck,” she whispered out.
“Yeah. Fuck.”
The party carried on behind them.
Hanna still wanted to believe the best. She wanted to think Isabelle had fallen in love and was trying to do her best to justify it, to hope there was some real humanity behind Isabelle’s choices. But somehow she was sure that love had little to do with this choice. She went out and found the exact enemy her brother would lose his mind over. She may have given birth to a child that would have heritage from both sides in his genes. Would that protect him from Roarke or make him that much more of a target, she wondered?
***
The next day, when everyone was working off their hangovers, Roarke and Hanna called them together in the bar, first thing in the morning. They weren’t exactly thrilled about it and Amber put together an entire pitcher of Bloody Marys and greasy food from Dunkin Donuts that was practically demolished in the first seconds the groups began arriving.
“Alright, what do we have that couldn’t wait until at least noon?” Rick asked, mouth have full of a donut and guzzling some coffee he brought.
“Long story short—and no there is no time for questions—we think Isabelle is in with Isiah Clark,” Hanna said.
“Well that was obvious,” Rick said.
“She’s pregnant. Was pregnant. She had a kid,” Roarke said. “At least we’re pretty sure she is. We don’t know that Isiah is the father, but I’m willing to bet he is.”
“Wait, you know that for a fact?” James asked, stepping forward.
He was still weak, though he was far more bushy eyed than anyone else around him. But he was in sheriff mode, quizzical, skeptical.
“The evidence is circumstantial, I’ll be the first to admit that,” Hanna said. “But it also checks out against her character profile. It’s the only thing that really seems to string all her actions together thus far.”
James started stroking his chin, thinking. He made her pass tests like this as a kid, trying to convince him of her theories, the evidence trail she was following. Then had it had been a fun game, now she desperately needed him to believe her. They’d never convince the rest of the group to go after the Caracals in force, against Isiah personally, unless they were absolutely certain. They’d lost several men already fighting Roarke’s battles for him against his sister. They couldn’t ask them to do it another time with certainty.
“This is fucked,” Rick said.
“Clark has that huge rancher on the edge of town,” Roarke said. “He’s had gang members patrolling it nonstop for months now.”
“Yeah, because has a fuck-ton of money invested in a lot of drugs and guns there, we’ve been through this,” Rick said.
“Why would he store goods at his own house?” Hanna asked. “Wouldn’t they use the same warehouse where they were hiding the girls?”
“That is a point worth examining,” James said.
“He’s got something personal there that wasn’t there before,” Roarke said. “Isabelle and a baby?”
It wasn’t enough convincing to make this a foregone conclusion. But they put doubt in everyone’s minds. There was a very real possibility that this is what was going on, the answer to what they were trying to figure out. They very nearly reached a conclusion. Would it be worth the risk to figure it out? Try to shut all this down?
And, if it was true, they were talking about more family. Isabelle’s child would be Roarke’s niece or nephew. He’d be the uncle to the child of the Caracal leader. That had to burn at him in a way nothing else did. Isabelle truly did get her revenge where that was concerned. Hanna had to hand her that one for the ingenuity. She wanted to believe that Isabelle might truly care for this man, for the baby. And maybe she did. Maybe she fell in love in an unexpected place as well and was trying to make the best of it for the baby who was about to enter an unstable world.
But it was coincidental that it just happened to be the Caracal leader who was the father of her child. With her it seemed impossible to tell what was genuine, what was real, and what was all part of a larger game that only she seemed to know the rules of.
She was gambling with the life of a child who didn’t ask to be born and who would depend on her its entire life. She prayed that Isabelle understood that and didn’t bring that child into the world lightly.
They adjourned. Anyone who was willing to help was going to meet again at dawn the next day. Roarke promised there would be no punishment for anyone who didn’t want to get involved, who would rather stay out. The problem of course, with gangs, was that family matters concerned everyone. This wasn’t just about one member having a squabble with a sibling. This was about the gang itself being threatened by someone they once considered a friend.
They would see how many were ready to take on that revenge.
Chapter 31
As it turned out, everyone was prepared to do what they had to and if Roarke was a sentimental person, he might actually cry at what he saw. Every single member of the gang was waiting for them when they got to the bar, bikes ready. They even had trays of coffee. Hanna, who was hormonal from the baby and tired from a night of restless sleep, actually did cry. Just a little bit. She was never going to admit it, he knew, so he didn’t point it out. But he saw the extra twinkle in her eye and the way she discretely brushed it off.
“Well, shit,” he said because it was all he could say, staring at every single one of his friends coming to his aid when he needed them most.
“Got your back boss,” Rick said with a cigarette balanced between his lips. He took one out and offered it to Roarke, lighting it for him. “So we kicking ass or what?”
“Yes,” Roarke said, taking a long drag of the cigarette to calm his nerves. He stopped smoking in his apartment to make the air safe for Hanna and the baby and it was taking its toll on him. “But the most import
ant thing is that we get this kid. It’s going to be the best leverage we have at getting Isabelle to back off or at least talk to us all civil like.”
“So it’s kidnapping then?” Rick asked. “Never really saw myself becoming a kidnapper.”
“Don’t think of it that way,” Roarke said with a wince. “We’re not stealing him away or locking him up in some underground bunker and making him read some Bible shit. We just need leverage. We need to offer enough of a threat to his life that Isabelle can be reasoned with.”
“Whatever, I can get behind it,” Rick said, putting out his cigarette with a tight twist of his heel into the asphalt.
“Anyone else?” Roarke asked the group. “Questions? Concerns? Grievances? You can still back out on this. No judgement here. We’re doing something we’ve never done before. We lost some good guys back the last time we tried to take the Caracals head-on. So make your choice now and stick to it. Once we ride, there’s no turning back.”
No one moved a muscle and Roarke had never been so grateful for the beautiful parts of found families. His brothers and his sisters were around him. They were committed. Hanna was here, ready to take on whatever they had to. It was about more than just revenge, more than just family ties. It was about making the world safe for their child and all the children they had yet to have, if there were more. He was pretty sure right now he would have five kids with her as long as it meant they both got out of this alive.
“Alright, then. One last thing and then we’re out of here.”
He pulled on Hanna’s hand, leading her off to the side. Her face washed over in confusion, this was not something they’d talked about yet, he wasn’t even sure if she would want it. But hopefully she’d recognize the thought behind it, the meaning there, the heart of it.
He fixed her up her own bike. It matched his in its colors, but it was slightly smaller than his own. But it was undoubtedly Hanna. He turned to look at her. She was back to having that twinkle in his eyes he knew hinted at tears, the good kind.
“You actually like it?” he asked, more self-conscious than he meant to sound. “It’s not just the hormones making you like this?”
“You’re an ass.”
She pulled him into a hug that was better than any heated kiss could've been. Having her in his arms was everything he ever wanted from life and never realized. He didn’t care that his entire gang was watching him practically ready to swoon over a girl.
“Think you can handle it?” he asked.
“Don’t push it,” she said with a raised eyebrow but a smile.
She kissed his cheek one last time and then moved over to the bike. She pulled the helmet off the seat and fastened it onto her head, tightening the strap. She revved up the engine and they listened to it hum as it came to life, buzzing in ideal. He smiled at her and nodded, she winked back. He moved to his own bike and a roar of engines started and moved like a wave as they all started their engines. He considered making some speech like they did in the great action movies, something inspirational and moving, something that said thank you for their sacrifice and loyalty. But he trusted them enough to know that they already knew. That’s why they were here in the first place.
So instead, they rode.
The wind in his face, the hum of the engine between his legs, the massive of bikes behind him. None of it had felt so much like this before. They rode together often. It was part of their social aspect, riding together on the weekends. This was for a goal. They were like the cavalry riding into battle together. If it was a movie, this is when the badass rock and roll or the uplifting, epic instrumental music would swell as they made their way down the road.
He turned to look at Hanna and felt nothing but love. He wasn’t afraid to admit that. He knew people got scared of that four letter word, men having their balls jump back up inside their body out of nervousness and women feeling like they were saying it too early. But it felt so right. He loved her. She was the mother of his child, riding a motorcycle to match his own, down the highway to finish a rivalry that started ages ago.
But all great moments get interrupted with one last fight from the enemy. That’s how it happened in movies. But it didn’t stop Roarke from feeling nothing but his own boiling blood when he saw the dirt kick up in the distance, watched specks of black getting closer and closer on their own rumbling hogs.
“Caracals,” Rick shouted and Roarke nodded.
He looked at Hanna who did not meet his eye, instead watching the approaching gang with nothing but complete concentration. He appreciated it. He fucking loved her. But if she got so much as a scratch on her he’d kill every single Caracal from here to the end of the Earth. That woman and the child she was carrying inside her would be his world, he wouldn’t let anyone or anything take that away.
“They’re gonna flank us,” Roarke shouted back. “Spread out, give them a less concentrated target.”
“Aye, aye, captain.”
They moved to spread out like the roman soldiers of old calling out new formations to confuse and confound their enemies. They spread out and watched as the Caracals moved closer and closer. They would be armed, they might start shooting before they even got near. It was the Caracal way, to try and pick off the enemy from afar, where it was safe. They’d always been cowards. Despite the danger, he refused to shoot first. Roarke wouldn’t be dragged down to their level.
“I’ll distract them,” Rick called. “You guys keep moving.”
Roarke didn’t want to leave a single person behind. But Rick’s plan had merit. Though the Caracals might expect it, it would be hard to keep track of two bikes in a scuffle that large. They were yards away now, moving towards each other. Roarke met Hanna’s eyes and she nodded, they veered off at the last second just as a shot went off and Rick returned fire.
Roarke wanted to make sure his guys were safe, they were his family, sacrificing themselves to help him. Their loyalty came without a price, he knew that. But he wanted them safe. He wanted everyone home that night in their own beds with their girlfriends and dogs and a bottle of Jack warming the inside of their stomachs and throats. But he moved on. He had to. The true betrayal of their sacrifice would be to ignore it. They’d keep the Caracal vanguard occupied and give Roarke and Hanna the chance to move forward and end this. That was the true goal and the only way to get everyone safe.
It was him and Hanna alone, riding across the road, the house not far now. He didn’t doubt there might be more dangers waiting for them, like traps in an Indiana Jones movie. Nothing good ever came easy and Isabelle would likely have something waiting for them. She was three steps ahead, even if she didn’t think he was ballsy enough to come for her at the hole she’d been hiding in, she wouldn’t let it go without some kind insurance.
He was braced for it. He was ready. And he knew that there’s no one else he wanted with him besides her.
Chapter 32
To Roarke’s surprise, there was not a booby trap waiting for them, the longer down the road they went. It was smooth riding and he couldn’t help be feel put on edge about it. Perhaps Isabelle hadn’t foreseen something like this. Maybe the one time she’d been careless was here. She assumed, he figured, that no one knew about the child and he would never be able to piece it together. He’d give her that much, she was right. He wouldn’t be able to figure it out on his own. The one she’d really been underestimating was Hanna. She thought her Roarke whore, a passing fling.
He smirked to himself at how wrong she was. He looked over at her, admiring her features. She eventually must have felt his eyes because she turned to look at him and raised a brow. He just kept watching. Eventually, she signaled for him to pull off the road and he followed, killing his bike after she did the same.
“I think we need to go on foot from here,” Hanna said, removing her helmet.
“You want to ditch the bikes?” he asked, taking his helmet off as well.
“They’ll be safe stored behind that shed over there,” she said pointing to
a small building with a for-rent sign in front of it and an old sign proclaiming it once as a produce stand.
“Why are we doing this?” he asked, popping out his kickstand and getting off his bike.
“Because they’re loud as fuck,” she said, bluntly. “You bikers love your theatrics, but fuck you guys are not sneaky. How do you think we find you every time?”
She was teasing him now and he narrowed his eyes. “It’s part of the lifestyle. Psychological warfare. We want our enemies knowing that we’re coming.”
“Well there’s only two of us and who knows how many of them waiting for us at that house. The psych warfare is not on our side. We need to find a stealthier way in. To take Isabelle on we have to think like her,” she said.
She had several points, Roarke couldn’t argue that. He marveled that she’d always be infinitely smarter than him. He hoped their kid had just a fraction of her brain and absolutely none of his. He followed her, pushing their bikes off the road and setting them up behind the shed. They positioned them close together and found a tarp laying over the roof of the shed. They pulled it down and set it over the bikes, covering them. As they moved back towards the road they brushed their feet over the bike tracks, hiding them. Hanna wanted to leave no evidence for a Caracal to find.