by Paula Cox
She’s standing right next to that sketch when I get upstairs, a red housecoat wrapped around her body as she taps her foot gently on the hardwood floors. “Why didn’t you call me?” she demands, softly but firmly. “Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been? I tried to call the shop, but the phones went to a voicemail. And you weren’t picking up.”
I stutter for a moment as I try to think of some excuse. I absolutely hate lying to her. She didn’t deserve it, but she also didn’t need to know that I was getting messed up in some stuff I shouldn’t be. I calmly try to explain, but it all ends up rolling out of me. “I had dinner with a friend,” I start, “but I lost my car keys, and my phone was inside. I’ll call the car company tomorrow and have them open the doors. No big deal, Mom. I’m sorry I kept you up.”
“It’s okay. I just want to make sure you come home alive and well. With everything that’s going on… well, you know.” There’s a tinge of disappointment in her pale blue eyes. She’s seen a lot as well—boyfriends that have left her, husband that dropped her like a fly, parents who were never around. I know that watching me go through the same thing with Riley had broken her hope that I would get out of the cycle, too.
“Go to bed,” I insist. “I know you’ve got work in the morning, and you shouldn’t be waiting up for me. I’m just going to use the house phone to call Roxy. She started her new job the other day, and I haven’t gotten the chance to see how she is.” This isn’t a lie. It’s been on my list of to-do’s now for a few days, but I’ve been too swamped to think about it. Plus, Roxy was the perfect person to talk about Max with.
“Tell her to come over soon,” she says, almost purring. “I’ll make a cake or something to celebrate. I haven’t seen Roxy in ages.” My mom smiles wistfully and heads back to her room. As I’m about halfway down the stairs, she adds, “I’m taking my sleep med. You know the drill, honey. Wake me up if there’s a fire or a hot man at our door, okay?”
She has said this to me every single night since I was a kid, but it still makes me laugh. The med she takes knocks her out almost instantly, and she sleeps like death. I’ve been tempted to take one a few times myself after watching her shut out the world with a pill and a glass of water, only to awake the next day to an alarm and a new morning. Tonight, especially, I could use one.
The house goes silent just a few minutes later, leaving only the hum from the TV my mom leaves on in her bedroom buzzing slightly audibly. I grab an amber bottle of cold beer from the fridge and practically collapse onto the faded blue couch. With a deep breath, I dial up Roxy, hoping that she’ll still be awake. The other line rings over and over again. It’s only when I’m about to hang up that I hear the peppy, perky voice of my best friend greet me. “Well, well, howdy there, stranger,” the voice on the other end says. “You finally returning a girl’s call? I think I’ve left you at least a hundred voicemails by now.”
“Two,” I respond dryly, “You’ve left me two.”
“Uh, no. Try three. Check your phone again. I called you like fifteen minutes ago, but it went straight to voicemail. Honestly, I was starting to get just a smidge worried. It’s just not like you to go AWOL, especially now that—”
I cut her off quickly. I don’t even want to hear Riley’s name right now. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. I should have called you sooner but things at the shop, well, they got… busy.”
“Oh, please,” she retorts shortly. “C’mon. Crazy 8’s is never busy.” Roxy is, if anything, honest to a fault. She won’t give you an inch if you try.
“Yeah, but tonight, it was… crazy. But before I tell you about me, tell me about you. How is Mason Enterprises and Labs? Are you doing all these mad science experiments yet? Have they let you resurrect the dead?” Believe it or not, but my bestie is some kind of super genius chemist. She managed to get her chemical engineering degree from an Ivy League school—one with actual ivies lining the walls of her dorm building. She’s still working on her doctorate, but during the day, she managed to land herself a job at one of the most prestigious labs in the country. At least, that’s what she says. Half the time, I can’t understand a word she’s saying about her line of work.
“Not yet, but I’m working on a project involving weapons. Top secret stuff. Government contracts and all. It feels all very James Bond-ish. I’m not sure if I really like the idea, but it’s paying for my tuition. I can’t complain.”
“And… what about the guy situation? Anyone worthy of your geeky lust?” For a science nerd, Roxy was one in a million. Red hair, green eyes, great body; she made herself a diamond among the rest of the girls she works with. The men practically fall over her, especially when they learn she’s into Star Wars and all that other nerd stuff.
“No one just yet. But you know me, I’m not into the smart ones. I’d rather pick up a guy at your shop than date some guy and his test tube.” She deflects quickly, not letting me argue. “Tell me about your crazy day. You sound like you could use a drink… or five.”
She’s right. My eyelids are practically drooping as my head spins in its own fog. I make the split second decision to tell Roxy the whole story from beginning to end, starting with that tattoo. “I’ve worked with motorcycle club guys before, Rox, and I’ve never, ever seen anything like it. It’s just a circle with some lines. What the hell kind of mark is that?”
“Well, you know with pirates, it’s just a black dot on your hand or something. Maybe they want simplistic so you don’t suspect them.”
“I just can’t believe I haven’t heard of this before. Mack told me about this war or something between two motorcycle clubs. A big thing like that with deaths and all should be in the news. But I don’t remember anything like that.”
“I don’t either, but you said it yourself that he had detectives in his pocket. They could cover up stuff like this if they wanted to, make those deaths look like accidents or unsolved murders. And guys like that, it’s not like anyone is really out looking for them.”
“Stop, Rox. You’re scaring me. Let’s just talk about the offer. It’s crazy, right? Why would I want to work with someone like Mack?”
“Because he sounds hot.”
“Hot? Come on, Roxy. I’m not into that, at least, not anymore. Not after… not anymore. Just the whole motorcycle thing is a turnoff for me. I could never be attracted to someone like that.”
“You can’t control what you’re attracted to, Anna. You know that. I know that. We’re both into that bad boy thing. Now you’ve got one promising you not only a career, but protection from killers and your ex. That’s a pretty awesome deal. Plus, there’s this way that you talk about him. You haven’t had this much energy in months now.”
“It’s adrenaline. It has to be. There’s just no way in hell that I’m going to say yes to that.”
“Then don’t. Think it over tonight. I’m sure you’ll have some sweet dreams about Mack at least… maybe of him enacting some of his control on you.”
“Rox—”
“Please. Give me a break. Stop being such a freaking prude and lighten up, Anna. You’re a hot piece of ass. And if we are both out of relationships, at least one of us should get some side tail to enjoy.” She laughs to herself before sensing my stony silence. “Okay. I’m sorry. Either way, just think about it for the night and come back to it tomorrow. You’ll be surprised how much can change with just a little rest and a new outlook on the day. Call me when you figure it out.”
“I promise. Love you, Roxy. Be good.”
“Always am.”
We both hang up, me placing the phone back on the receiver and falling into the couch head first with the rest of me cascading like heavy bricks into the upholstery. Everything dims around me as I allow the world to just drift away from me.
I don’t know how much time has passed when I wake up. All I know is that there’s two cold hands on my shoulders. Dirty nails dig into my skin as they make their way up to my neck. My blood boils rapidly as a scream festers in my throat before burs
ting out like a comet. My whole body triggers awake, thrashing at the hands forcing me back down.
“Get off! Get the fuck off of me! No! No! No!” I can’t see his face. I don’t understand why I can’t see his face. Every time I look up, everything becomes a blur. There’s a pair of dark eyes peering down at me with some mix of pleasure. I kick up, hoisting my hips off the couch. But the air is becoming thin, too thin. I… just…can’t. My muscles grow heavier and heavier and my eyes want to close on their own.
I’m not dreaming! I yell at myself. You can’t let yourself think that this is a dream! Dreams are death. Dreams are your last moments on Earth. This is real. This man is real. His hands pushing on the bones in your neck are real. And at any moment, the air trapped in your chest, all the reserves you’ve ever saved up, will disappear too.
I reach my hands up, searching, grasping, flailing. But I don’t find the man. I find another. There’s a hand that reaches mine and holds on. It’s only for a second, but it’s not someone pushing me away or throwing me back down. This hand belongs to someone telling me it’s okay. A second later, air flows back through me and my blood begins to flow again. With eyes open, I see him—Mack, just to the side of me. He’s on top of a man with a knife still clutched in his hands. In the pocket of his camo pants is the outline of a large handgun.
Mack brings down blow after blow to the man’s face. He sputters and turns in my direction. Blood pours out of his nose and around the corners of his lips. Already, his skin is both blue and puffy. Despite that, I recognize him almost immediately. It’s the man with my tattoo partially drawn up on his arm. I can see the bottom half of the circle just under the curve of his sleeve.
My first thought is to let this man die. Mack could kill him in a second, and I would be the better for it. There wouldn’t be someone coming for me, no black spot to my name. But it dawns on me that this man had a mission. Him not going back alive would mean that there was no rest when he died. This would always be my night on repeat. New guys, new attempts. I scream out Mack’s name. “Stop! Don’t kill him!”
Mack holds down the man’s arms as he turns and yells at me, “I’m not going to kill him. I’m going to make him regret ever stepping foot inside this house!” An arm raises and then slams down with the strength of a hammer towards his nose. I can’t bear to watch, but through lightly shut eyelids, I see the man lose consciousness. Mack slides off of him and reaches into his back pocket for some wire or string. Quickly, without a word, he ties the man by his arms and then his legs.
With him secured, he finally turns back to me. “Grab a bag of your stuff. You’re coming with me. We’re going now.”
“What?” I ask, my voice scratchy and sore from the attack. “I can’t. My mom is upstairs. What if they come back for her?”
Mack holds up one long, calloused finger towards me as he takes out his phone and dials a number. He says sternly into the phone my mom’s home address and then adds, “Bring a van for this guy and then I want two men on the clock out here until I say so. None of them leave. I want hourly check-ins. They see anyone with Knights patches, they shoot to kill.”
I curl my legs up to my chest as I stare at him in some weird mix of fear and awe. “How did you find me?” I ask.
“Does it matter? We need to get you the fuck out of here. If I found you, they’ll find you.”
“I can’t leave without my mom. She’s sleeping. She takes this medicine…”
“Will she notice if you’re not around then?” He has a point. She never checks on me before work. Our mixed up schedules are never lined up, so she knows better than to try to wake me up before noon.
“No, she won’t. I guess. But how do I know that there won’t be more attacks? I can’t just leave her here.”
“You have to Anna. This isn’t a joke anymore. If I wasn’t feet behind that guy, he would have taken that knife and dug it into your throat. Your mom wouldn’t have found your body for hours. We have to get you safe before it happens again, and the only way you’re surviving the night and the next twenty-four hours is to come with me.”
“But I—”
“No!” he says sharply. “Stop fucking arguing with me. There is no discussion.” Two headlights streaming through the open windows interrupt his lecture. He looks at me quickly and commands, “Go get your bag and be down here in five minutes. We’re leaving.”
My feet shuffle upstairs, past my mom’s room. I want to leave her a note or a clue, something to tell her that I’m okay and that she will be too, but how do I write everything that needs to be said? Furthermore, how do I write that when I don’t know if it’s true?
CHAPTER 5
“Isn’t this an old fish processing facility? My mom used to work in an office over here and always said that it’s why this neighborhood always smelled strange during the day.” Anna looks up at the building with her hand to her head. She’s stalling; I can tell. Hearing that you’re going to some motorcycle club headquarters isn’t exactly a thing you would be thrilled to be doing.
“No. It’s our warehouse. We’ve been in this space for years… since I can remember, at least. Now, come on.” I grab her by the elbow and force her off the back of the bicycle. She shakes slightly as I escort her into the building with me leading the way. Some of my guys give me nods. Others stare at Anna as if she’s a farm animal at the auction house.
While girls have always been part of our club, I minimized their participation when I took over. Our street ladies never walked into the buildings without an escort and a damn good reason to be there. Old ladies, the wives of senior members, were told the location and how to reach the offices if they needed something, but they never got in past the parking lot. And the ladies we used for initiations and parties were shown through the back so as not to see the merchandise and set up inside.
It wasn’t because I hated women. No, there were a few female riders that have gotten to be an honorary member of the Red Dragon Riders. My mama was one of them. They always got the patch for going above and beyond the call of an old lady or employee. In my mama’s case, she helped in the war against the Knights of the Dead. She was the lookout most nights, while the boys got their sleep. In the afternoons, she would run the business and books to keep everything flowing.
She passed about a month before I took over. She would have loved to see me here, living out my dad’s legacy. She probably would have also have loved to know I saved a girl from near death. She was always talking about grandkids and marriages, even though her and my dad had the exact opposite of a Brady Bunch relationship. To this day, I still don’t know if they were even married.
“What’s she doing here?” Lonnie is the first to greet us at the door. Word must have traveled fast that I was bringing in a non-working girl with me. Behind him, a small crowd of gawkers stare us down as they pretended to move boxes and service bikes. “Jimmy thought you’d just bring her to a safe house or something. Then I hear from Zeke that you called some protection?”
“Yeah. Things got complicated.” I look back down at Anna, who is looking more wide eyed and cross with each passing second. She watches as tables of men count stacks of cash to the side of another table bagging up small bundles of weed. What did she expect? A legit, legal operation? Selling drugs, robberies, pimping… that’s how most motorcycle clubs manage to keep their membership high. It’s a business. These men are my employees, and I’m their CEO.
“What the fuck happened?” I spin in time to see Zeke, my second, step forward. Zeke’s been my right hand man for the last five years. We came up in the club together, but he wasn’t the enforcer type. He’s more of the brains. Out of all the guys here, he was the only one who finished college while earning his membership. We call him “the voice” because of how he can talk down a room when he wants to. While some of the new guys he’s mentoring call him “the doctor” for the way he used all those book smarts to figure out plans. He was the one who actually came up with the plan to put another business in next
to my sister’s restaurant as a front.
Either way, I’m just glad to have the guy on my side. If anyone could convince Anna that she should join the business and be under our protection, it’s Zeke. I make a quick introduction as I place a hand on Anna’s curved back to push her through the warehouse and back towards our offices. “Anna Fox, meet Zeke Taylor. Zeke, this is Anna. She’s the one whose house got protection tonight.”
Zeke eyeballs me quickly, trying to read the situation. If Lonnie knew about the tattoo situation, surely he did too. Still, I don’t blame him when he says, “Do you wanna tell me what the hell happened in there?”
To my surprise, it’s Anna who answers. “I gave this tattoo… the Knight’s tattoo, and one of your guys saw it. He told Mack, who came and got me. I didn’t listen to him and went home on my own. About an hour later, some guy snuck into my house while I slept and nearly choked and stabbed me to death. If Mack hadn’t followed me home, I would be dead.”
We pause at the office doors as Zeke places a calm hand on Anna’s bare shoulder. “Jesus. I’m sorry to hear that.” He massages gently around her arm. I grit my teeth, willing myself not to push him off of her. It’s not like I’ve claimed her as my territory. She’s fair game to whomever wants a go at her. He continues touching her as we enter my dark and dingy office. It’s bareness and the lack of light catches me, as if I’ve entered an entirely new space.