Separated MC (The Nighthawks MC Book 10)

by Bella Knight

  The pool tournament was a delight, with women in tuxedos making impossible shots. There was a wheelchair session; the Soldier Pack was highly interested in that one. Then, the night shift took over Danny’s care. They took him for a snack, drink, and vintage jazz at the lounge, and the rest of them took off for home.

  Bannon made it home. Pepper, his German shepherd, woofed softly. She’d been professionally walked, but Bannon took him around anyway. They loved their nightly time together. Pepper had been in the military, and Bannon had personally paid to ship him back and employ him. Pepper was now retired, and a delight to be around. He had near-human intelligence.

  Bannon was wiped, but he had a ton of work. So, he and Pepper sat on the black couch with its double recliners in front of the forty-two-inch (silent) television, and Bannon waded through schedules, and new client acquisition, and the current workload. He’d have to hire two more to cover everything.

  He sent an email to Bonnie about any she didn’t think wanted to do bikes full time, and did the same with Herja up north, and the Iron Knights. He knocked off, and Pepper shared his bed.

  “Not that I don’t love you, girl,” he said to her, “but, I bought this king-sized bed, so someone could come between us.” Pepper licked his nose, and he laughed. “You know, I want a woman with a slightly shorter nose. Who loves dogs. And doesn’t mind me putting in ninety-hour weeks.” Pepper chuffed. “I agree,” he said. “Hard sell. Night, girl.” She curled up against his back, and they both slept.

  Bonnie made a rude noise. “Who does he think he is?” she said to no one. She had gotten her grease-stained fingers on a brand-new Harley service manual for the latest models. She was nearly crying over the Fat Boy model, and paged it with one hand while looking at her email with the other.

  “Who?” asked Anna Sokolov, the brand-new Soldier Pack member who had just come up from Indiana, the day before.

  “Bannon,” said Bonnie. “Runs the soldier-turned-protection outfit. Takes any of mine and the Iron Knights he can. If I train you, and you either don’t want to fix or build bikes, or only want to do it part-time, then you can go work for Bannon on protection.”

  “Even with this?” Anna held up her 3D-printed hand.

  “Of course,” said Bonnie. “You’re different, not dead.”

  Anna smiled. “Good,” she said. “Nice to have backup.” She stared at the video she was watching on all the parts of a bike. “What do you do with us? Kick us out of the apartment?”

  “Bannon’s got his own condos he owns, plus some apartments and houses. Gives a discount on the rent.”

  “Sweet,” said Anna.

  “Shut up,” said Bonnie. “I’m gonna quiz you in about five minutes.”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” said Anna.

  Ghost came in, huffing and puffing. “That Bannon done stole one of my women. I was countin’ on da help, my wifey bein’ pregnant and all. Damn man.”

  “Which one?” asked Bonnie. “Let me guess. Jetta?” Ghost nodded, and Bonnie snorted. “Nowhere near as good at soldering a bead as you. Get the next one on the list and ship her up here. Call the Valkyries or the Iron Knights for transport if she has trouble getting here.”

  “On it,” said Ghost. “But I’m gonna take a strip outta his hide at the next meetup, ya heah?”

  “Get in line,” said Bonnie. “Got a wrench with his name on it.” Ghost huffed back across the street to find the next woman on the list.

  “Wow,” said Anna. “You guys are real serious.”

  “Harleys are amazing machines,” said Bonnie. “You love and respect them, or you go somewhere else.”

  “Got it,” said Anna. She widened her screen to see what the image of Bonnie was doing, and pressed her white earphone farther into her ear.

  Killa waddled in about an hour later, a tray of drinks and a bag of tacos on it. “You are my hero,” said Anna. Killa laughed, and the women followed her progress to the back room. They drank cherry lime slushies and ate fish tacos, licking their fingers. “You havin’ a boy or a girl?” asked Anna.

  “A girl, and she’s not mine. I’m gonna have this little bit fo’ some real nice people. Paid for our condo, an’ we get to help some people, who cain’t have no baby.”

  “Nice,” said Anna. “Been thinkin’ bout that myself. Got a foreign-object arm.” She held it up. “It’s tough, learning to use it. Pain in the ass. Think those people who need people to have their kids would work with someone with no arm?”

  Killa laughed. “They not hirin’ ya for ya arm, woman. Ya on any medications?”

  “I’m allergic to the sleep med they had me on. The nightmares ain’t really my problem, you know? More not sleeping.”

  Killa nodded. “Some ‘a da tings we been through, I gotta same thing. Key is to keep busy. I love makin’ da bikes. My wifey, she makes da mini Harleys. She be hoppin’ wif all da new models. Now I’m knocked up, makin’ her crazy tryin’ to do all a’ it.”

  “I can help,” said Anna. “We can get some cots, or bunks. I’m okay with that. Get two new girls, ‘stead of one. We learn the Harleys, old ones, new ones, whatever.” Anna’s face that was usually pulled into a mix of anxiety and sadness, brightened up. “We can make a difference, here, seems like.”

  “I’ll text my wifey, order two a’ ya. Be good gettin’ some new girls in. Da old ones do betta wif Bannon.”

  “Who’s Bannon?” asked Anna, now putting the trash in the bag to throw away.

  “He’s da guy, works wif Gregory, has a place called High Desert Security something. Protects dem VIPs,” she said, and laughed. She sipped her cherry lime drink, which turned her lips a dark red.

  “Don’t think I wanna do that again,” said Anna, massaging her shoulder. “Got chunks out of the muscle. Don’t have as much arm strength as I used to.”

  “Don’ matta heah,” said Killa. “You be the right hand heah, you fit in jus’ fine.”

  “Well, this jawing ain’t getting the work done,” said Bonnie. “Come on, Anna. Let’s get you some Harley knowledge. Killa, this was awesome.”

  “Wasn’t nuffin,’” said Killa, grinning. “You don’t be a stranga, Anna, heah?”

  “I hear you,” said Anna. They all went back to work.

  Ghost ordered up two women, had Callie build pods for the nervous but generous Anna’s room, and was stunned when Staff Sergeant Tori Kym showed up, along with Specialist Deek Weckhart.

  Tori was short, with blue-black hair that moved as she walked. It was cut to her chin. Then, black eyes and a round face. She moved like water, comfortable on her double blade legs. Deek was used to fixing choppers, but got the lay of the land very quickly around a Harley. She had all her limbs, but seemed to be in a daze a lot of the time. Tori paid attention, and set Deek’s phone on a Pomodoro timer to ring every twenty-five minutes. It didn’t matter; her output was nearly the same, either way. Tori slept on the top bunk, nervous that a dazed Deek would miss the ladder in the morning.

  They already had a cooking and cleaning schedule, but Tori had a way of keeping everything blindingly clean —and hearty meals of soups simmering in a crock pot, sandwiches, salads, and tacos churned out, with breakfast sandwiches ready to go in the morning. Some of it they made, and some were from the Wolfpack business. They always had fresh fruits and salads ready to eat. Tori took to Harleys like water to the ocean. She displayed accurate knowledge of the basic models. A confused Ghost said, “Why ya know so much?”

  “Heard the women get taken faster off the list, so I figured I better study up,” said Tori.

  “Good,” said Ghost. “The fasta you help us heah, the more time I get wif my wifey.”

  “On it,” said Tori.

  She took a crossover shift to learn from both Ghost and Bonnie, and quickly realized the trikes bored her, and she loved the dirt bikes. She acted like she was learning field surgery from a doctor, her moves precise. She made mistakes, but never made them twice, and got better at catching them before she went too far down
the wrong path. She quizzed the other Soldier Pack in the apartment relentlessly, and they all got a lot better a lot quicker… even Anna.

  Anna was terrified that her slow improvement spelled her getting thrown out on the street. Tori reassured her. “If they didn’t like you, you’d be out on your ear in a week. You see Ghost, Killa, or Bonnie putting up with any shit?” Anna shook her head. “That’s right. And maybe you specialize. Ghost is the best welder I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a few. Maybe you rotate, unboxing, sending things out to be painted, painting what we can do here, putting things together. Find out what you like, and rotate around those things. Save Ghost for what she does best.”

  “She’s right,” said Deek. “Those women can see quality. Quality work, not quantity. You do it right and it takes a while, what the fuck, who cares. Maybe we step in, hurry it up for you on some parts. We’re all in this together, huh?”

  Tori couldn’t figure out Anna’s nervousness. The military should have gotten a lot of that out of her. It was Killa that clued her in over dinner, when Deek and Anna had gone home. “She acts like I did when I was fifteen,” said Killa. “Like a nervous dog. She been raped, or some such.”

  Tori stared. “Thought it was PTSD.”

  “Is, but not,” said Killa. “Bonnie done set me straight. And, Ghost and I look him up. He dead, tryin’ ta hold up some liquor store.”

  “Sorry to hear that. Not that he’s dead, but that you went through that.”

  Killa shrugged. “So many ‘a us do, ya know. Be tryin’ to change da world, one girl atta time. Work wif some o’ dem girls, paid fo’ a shelta, get street girls inna da safe place, gettin’ ‘em some schoolin’. Dem girls, dey take a hit, make ‘em feel better, get ‘dicted, next ting ya know dey dead in a gutta. Ghost an’ I, we lucky. We get straight real early, den we get Bonnie. She kill if anyone hurt us, ya know? ‘Till we strong enuf ta protec’ ourselfs.”

  Tori’s mind reeled. “We want in. On helping the street girls. Not do-gooder stuff. Real stuff. Get ‘em clean, off the street, better lives. Like this one. It’s a real-good life, lots of freedom. Do what I want, when I want. Price is higha den some of dem want ta pay. Gettin’ clean, gettin’ real. Gettin’ serious ‘bout changin’ ya life.”

  Tori looked down at her blades, then back up. “I thought losing these was the worst that could happen to me. There’s always something worse, isn’t there?”

  “Yeah,” said Killa. “There is. Ain’t no fairy tales. Monsters is real.”

  The next night, Tori brought home a bottle of tequila, two limes, three shot glasses, a box of tissues, and one of wet wipes. She put it all down in their room on the tiny table, then brought in salt, a plastic lid filled with water, and a paring knife. They all had to work the next day, so she had to get it done.

  They were awake, watching TV in their bunks. Tori said absolutely nothing, just tore the seal off the bottle. She put the shot glass in the water and salt, and poured the tequila. She cut up the limes, put pillows on the floor, and set the radio to low, some pop music. First Deek, then Anna, stuck their heads out. They came out of their pods like turtles sticking out their heads and feet. They sat on the floor around the table. Tori took off her blades. Tori still said nothing, just passed around the glasses. They drank. She salted the glasses again, poured more, passed out the limes, and took another shot. They all drank. Deek looked exactly the same, but Anna looked glassy-eyed.

  “Why we drinking?” asked Deek.

  “I was with Third Company. We were coming back from a successful mission, a rescue, a family. The little boy had just been passed to his father, outside the truck, when we pulled out. I never heard the tick, saw a flash. Just Lieutenant Patterson’s body turned into a fine mist, splashed across me. Danvers lost an eye, Volso an arm. He killed himself the day he got out of the hospital, Volso, not Danvers. Danvers is fine, still a computer geek. I lost both legs in a crushed and mangled truck. Luckily, I didn’t bleed out. The kid and his dad? Gone, just gone. Got discharged, got home, got lots of sad eyes, an entire church praying for me. My mother did nothing but cry when I was there. She’s weak, you know? I got tired of taking care of her, of trying to make her feel better. Got my blades on my feet, moved into a tiny place I shared with another woman. She was a drunk, tried stealing my stuff until I told her I’d remove her eyes with a vegetable peeler if I ended up missing a single dollar, ever again. Waited ‘till I got the call I’d been chosen, got my ass out here on the next bus.” Tori poured, and they all drank again.

  Deek sat, rock-solid, while Anna swayed from side to side. “Worked on choppers. Started on packing equipment, moved to installing seats, moved to actually working on the birds. Never got to fly them. I wanted to. Got shot down. Walked back with two. I was the only one made it back. Tricky Tom bled out, and Gregorovich just went to sleep and never woke the hell up. Hid one body under rocks and dragged the other one to the evac point. They went back for the cairn. Dug it up, brought him back. Found out Gregorovich died of a brain bleed, so they both died bleeding, one out, one in.” She gave a bark of a laugh, poured, and drank. “I was sleeping with both of them. They didn’t care, said I was enough to share. Been kind of a zombie since.” She laughed with absolutely no mirth. “I am the zombie apocalypse.”

  Anna said it in a rush. “Was my own fucking unit, two of them. Way out there. Supposed to be keeping each other safe, you know?” She dug her nails into her palms, crescents turning white, then red. “Zim was always an asshole, but Yonck? Guy never said two words to me. Did it, rapped me on the head, left me there. Finished their circuit, went back. It took them two days to find me. By then, they had a story cooked up. How I freaked out, ran off. I was too…” She poured her own tequila, and downed it. “I went into deep shock. Was what they called it. Came out of it in Germany. By then, both of those fuckers were long gone.” Tears ran down her face. She didn’t sob, just let them out. “By the time I’d gotten around to telling someone what really happened, no evidence. My word against two senior officers. I ended up in Supply. Can’t tell if that was punishment, or if they thought I would freak out if I had a gun, and maybe go after them.”

  “Where are they now?” asked Tori, her voice very low.

  “Dunno. Tried to find them, went up against the military wall.”

  “Give me what you know,” said Tori. She pulled out her phone, and put in all the information Anna could remember. Tori handed Deek a packet of wet wipes, and Deek came out of her shell enough to help Anna cry. She rubbed Anna’s back and arms.

  Tori remembered Gregory coming to visit, a cookout at Henry’s place. He’d given her a card if they needed anything. “Nighthawks stick together,” he said. Gregory was a gunny. He’d know what to do, and he worked for an agency with deep pockets.

  Gregory was slowly stroking Kayta’s arm. She had exhausted him once again, and she was sliding into sleep. He grabbed the phone before it could annoy her. An angry, sleepy Katya was a sight to behold.

  “Gunny, it’s Staff Sergeant Tori Kym. I need your help.”

  “Anything,” said Gregory. He extricated his arm, and grabbed the pen and paper he kept by the bed.

  “Two officers raped a woman in their unit and left her for dead in enemy territory. Made up some wild story about her running away. She was too much in shock to talk about it until she came to, and by then, they were in the wind, and it was her word against theirs.”

  Gregory’s eyes got hard. “These walking corpses have names?”

  “Zim and Yonck. Yonck was a sniper that never talked, so we know next to nothing about him. His spotter’s name was Antonia Zim, a real asshole. Everyone called her Toni.”

  “A man and a woman raped her. Unusual, but not unheard of,” said Gregory. “Probably part of why they had trouble believing her. What else?”

  “Zim lied when her lips were moving, saying she was from Indiana, then Iowa, then somewhere else. Said she had money, then said she lost it in a poker night in Vegas. Stuff like that.”
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  “Lovely. A silent type, and a compulsive liar. Maybe deliberate, if they were criminal types to begin with.”

  Tori continued. “Anna was a terrain specialist, great at getting them into holes and caves they could use as blinds. They put her in Supply after it happened, then discharged her.”

  “Waste,” said Gregory. “And a valuable sniper and spotter may have been protected from some asshole brass who thought they were needed more than a terrain specialist.”

  “Yes,” said Tori.

  “On it,” said Gregory. “You sit tight. Your new mission is protection. I’ve got people from here to fucking Mars, we’ve got so much going on, so I can’t spare people to do it. There may be blowback as I tug on some strings. Get armed, get some lightweight body armor, and protect her.”

  “On it,” said Tori.

  “Your best bet is to join the Valkyries. Or just tell them about it. They’ll be all over this like white on rice.” He rubbed his eyes. “Tell them to stand down until I know what’s what, you hear?”

  “Yes,” said Tori.

  “You did right to bring this to me,” said Gregory. “I’ll courier over a card, enough to get you the guns and body armor for... how many?”

  “Three,” said Tori. “I’ve gotta tell Bonnie, but three, so far.”

  Gregory snorted. “Bonnie’ll put a wrench up their ass. So, okay. Three. Bonnie would just laugh if I tried to get her to wear body armor. Stay sharp, stay safe.”