Separated MC (The Nighthawks MC Book 10)

by Bella Knight

  “On it,” said Tori. She hung up.

  Katya turned over. “Someone is threatening one of ours?”

  “One of Soldier Pack. She was raped, then discharged, and her rapists were never prosecuted.”

  Katya’s blue eyes turned the cold of a Siberian wind. “Put them in ground,” she said.

  “Yes, love,” he said.

  “You find bad guys in morning. Now, go to sleep.”

  “Yes, love,” said Gregory. He gave a smile as she held onto him.

  Challenge

  In the morning, Gregory played with his beloved boys, making them chortle. He changed them, fed them, and got them into the playroom before the Two D’s arrived with Lily’s lovelies. He kissed them all, except the D’s, and went out, coffee cup in hand. He was angry in a place deep inside. He decided to stop off with the only person he knew of that could get the job done.

  He was surprised when Wraith opened the door. She had her hair cut much shorter, but still had the trademark Valkyrie braids. She stood tall. Her face was lined with some pain, but she looked much better.

  She smiled. “Gregory!” She hugged him. “Sigrun was just…”

  “Running out!” she said. “Gotta finish my oil painting. I…”

  “Hate oils!” finished Wraith. Sigrun kissed her, careful not to shove her into the walker, and zipped out the door, tubes of artwork in her right hand, a backpack on her back. She wore a breezy blue pair of shorts and a blue T-shirt with “Rock On!” done up in silver. She flew out past Gregory, and ran down the hall to the stairs.

  “What just happened?” asked Gregory.

  “You’ve been Sigrunned. Come in,” said Wraith. “I’m zippier than I look on this thing. Should be able to ditch it soon. Can’t do crutches with this shoulder.”

  “Sigrunned?” asked Gregory.

  “Since Saber went deep again, before we had time to exchange rings, I might add, we expect him back in a couple of weeks, dirty and depressed. Sigrun runs around like a chicken, trying to do stuff. We’ve hired half the Wolfpack, it seems, so it’s okay, I have backup. She’s trying to catch up on all she missed. Spending a lot of time on the 3D project to print kids’ hands. We ordered some printers, then some guy named Danny said he’s sending over some top-of-the-line stuff and two engineers to set it up and show how to program them —and where do we want them? We freaked, but then we put Sigrun on it.” Wraith slid herself onto her recliner, and sat. “She got the school, the school! She got them to use a huge basement room and set it up. She got students to paint murals based on pics of the kids on the list, herself included, had it counted as class credit. We’ve got students from three different universities and colleges coming in to print the hands. She’s got an eye, I tell you, and she’s learning how to code and set up the printers. Part of a special joint project. She got it all typed up and sent it out, and set it up —and now it’s an actual class.”

  Gregory failed to mention that he and Bannon donated some money toward the project. “I hate to interrupt a flood of good news, but I’ve got to be in conference in half an hour. I hear you know Lily’s friend, Daisy Chain.”

  “She’s part of the installation. Major coding skills. Whachu need?”

  “It’s a horrible story about a crime that happened overseas against a woman that was never prosecuted.”

  “Wait,” said Wraith. She grabbed her tablet. “Who did it, and where is this evildoer?”

  “That’s what I need you and Daisy Chain for. And some protection for the victim. She’s surrounded by ex-soldiers, but…”

  “Valkyries. Yes, we can do that.” She punched some buttons. “Lay it on me.” He spent five minutes spelling it out. “Okay, got it,” she said. “Get the hell out of here, and we’ll get to work.” He kissed her cheek, and left quickly.

  Her eyes had gone as steely as his wife’s. As he mounted his bike, he regretted, just for a moment, setting a Valkyrie loose on the perpetrators. Then, he remembered the story, and the regret was gone like the desert wind.

  Lily came over when Wraith called. She was still on time to her breakfast meeting with a client, if Wraith kept it short. She expected some questions about insurance, but instead got an earful about a crime and the need for Daisy Chain. Lily held up her hand, pulled up her tablet, and Skyped Daisy Chain. Daisy was pounding on a keyboard, bopping her head to some electronica.

  “Speak,” she said.

  “Horrible crime against a woman, doers in the wind,” said Lily.

  “Fuck me. Names of doers?” Daisy Chain stilled her fingers, ready for the information.

  Lily gave the abbreviated info, then gave Gregory’s number. “He’s running point, ex-military, wants these fuckers in the worst way. Deliver the information to Wraith here, and/or to him.”

  Wraith waved. “Hiya. Benched for the moment, me versus truck. Can use my usual contacts, but you’re faster.”

  “One of us will pay you,” said Lily.

  “Fuck off,” said Daisy Chain. “I’m insulted. This one’s for all of us. Now, go the fuck away and let me work.”

  Lily cut off the call, and stood up. “You get better. I’ve got a meeting to rush off to.” She hugged Wraith.

  “Get outta here,” said Wraith.

  Once Lily left, Wraith called Skuld. “Got a woman, ex-military, got ex-military around her. She’ll be in danger when we poke a hornet’s nest for her.”

  Skuld had one eye open, but “woman in danger” penetrated her sleep-fogged head. “Who and where?”

  Wraith told her. “I’ll take first shift. I may be fucking crippled, but I can still shoot.”

  Skuld barked a laugh. “I dare any fucker to take you on, even scooting around on that pink thing.” Sigrun had spray-painted the walker a metallic pink. “On it,” Skuld said. “Rota second, me third. Or another of us.”

  “Big favor.”

  “Fuck you,” said Skuld. “Someone does that to a woman, I want first dibs on the spleen.”

  “This fucker’s a shooter,” said Wraith, “His partner’s his spotter.”

  “A challenge,” said Skuld, with pleasure and excitement in her voice.

  “Not for too long,” said Wraith. They hung up.

  Wraith went to her bedroom, opened the closet door, slid over the shoe rack, and pulled on the hidden back panel. She switched out her shorts for black jeans, and her bare feet got socks, boots, and a knife in her left boot, and a gun in her right one in an ankle holster. She took off her metallic pink tee, carefully slid on her body armor, and slid the tee back on. It still hurt to reach around back. She put a gun in a holster in the small of her back. She could shoot with either hand. She decided that she had a few hours before the shit hit the fan, so she put on her vented motorcycle jacket and called an Uber to take her to the shooting range. She used both guns, then cleaned and oiled them.

  Hellion from the Iron Knights dropped her off at Bonnie’s garage, walker and all. “I can see something’s up,” he said. “Something’s got the Valkyries all riled up, and you’re loaded for bear like the old days —and wearing body armor.”

  “Woman got hurt a long time ago,” said Wraith, “when she was in the military. Fuckers never got prosecuted. We’re going hunting, and there may be some blowback. Maybe literally, a sniper and his spotter are the doers.”

  “Fuck me,” said Hellion. “Whatever the hell you need, you call, anytime, day or night. You need a shift done, we’re all over it. You need to find the nest. Fucker will probably wear a ghillie suit.” A ghillie suit was worn over a sniper’s clothing to blend in with the surroundings.

  “Hard time of it to do that in Vegas,” said Wraith, “But, I take your meaning. Hope to nail this fucker, but don’t know how long it will take to either find him, or flush him out.”

  “Damn idiots,” said Hellion. “Won’t know who they’ve crossed until it is much, much too late.”

  “It’s how I like it,” said Wraith.

  She didn’t have that many choices. In with the
Nighthawks. Across the street in Bonnie’s new digs, the Harley school. Actually, that one had possibilities. She could always teach. Across the way was a gas station. Useful for gassing up, but hardly a coffee shop where she could hang around.

  Gregory was swamped. Really damn swamped. She had an idea. She called him. “I’m going to be working at the empty classroom at Henry’s new digs,” she said.

  “With a view right onto the garage,” he said. “Nice. What do you need from me?”

  “I’m bored as hell. Caught up on old cases, cold cases, all sorts of crap. Not fully healed yet, can’t run. Can shoot, but hardly go out in the field.” She snorted. “Unless it’s to infiltrate a nursing home.” They both snorted laughter. “You’re busy, I’m not. Put me to work.”

  “Done,” said Gregory. “Nondisclosure agreement and lots of work coming your way.”

  “Good. Have the runner pick me up a baby refrigerator, drinks, a baby microwave, and some frozen stuff.”

  “Done,” said Gregory. “Shut up. I’m busy.” He hung up, and she laughed.

  Wraith entered the building, and laboriously made it up the stairs. She only found the elevator when she used the bathroom, making her laugh ruefully. She dragged a table to sit diagonally, and stole a chair from an office down the hall. She used a box as an ottoman, and settled in with her tablet. Deb, a Wolfpack member on her way to becoming a Valkyrie, pushed a cart in. She handed her backpack off to Wraith. Wraith opened it, and found a lovely, blue, metallic laptop inside. Deb plugged it in for her. Wraith signed the nondisclosure agreement, then started wading through emails and contracts.

  Deb set up the refrigerator and microwave, plugged them in, and filled up the refrigerator with sodas, water, juices, and some frozen burritos and refrigerated Chinese food. Deb took her credit card, and ran it. She ran it again for the Wolfpack fee, bowed, and was gone without saying a word.

  “Love that kid,” said Wraith to herself.

  Nothing happened inside. They were smart, keeping Anna inside the building. A delivery guy brought Chinese for the garage. Wraith zapped her pork fried rice, and ate it with wooden chopsticks. Deb had helpfully left it all on top of the microwave, along with sporks, sports bars, and mixed nuts.

  “I hate sporks,” said Wraith, to no one. Wraith sat back down. “Your assistants need assistants,” she said to the absent Gregory.

  She went through the Possible Clients file, and did some digging. Some, such as a food manufacturer run by ex-military women, were not in great need, and could be put off for a while. Two were in real need of help, and Wraith flagged them to either be helped, or sent to someone who could.

  Wraith ate a snack of mixed nuts, and plowed through more work. She found two important, two urgent, and three not-worth-it companies. She put it all in a spreadsheet, added Gregory and his admin to the document, and packed up for the day. She was spot-on. She called a fast Uber, went down the elevator and out the back, and picked up the Uber on the street. She had the driver, a blonde with her cap pulled down tight and jazz on the radio, follow the bikes to a local bar and grill. Wraith paid the woman, and went in. She spotted Bonnie and the other women, slid over, and sat down at the four-top, gratefully.

  Bonnie nodded. “I figured it was you I saw from the window today. Okay if I out you to these fine ladies?” Wraith nodded, wondering if Bonnie was going to tell about her being DEA, or being in a poly relationship with both a man and a woman. “Wraith here’s law enforcement, three letters, not telling you which ones.”

  “My husband’s agency has four letters now,” said Wraith. “But nobody calls it that.”

  Tori nodded. “Good merge,” she said. “You ever work together?”

  “Rarely,” said Wraith. “He’s out of town, and our girlfriend is at school, with back-to-back art projects.” There, she’d outed herself.

  The others took this news in stride. “If I may ask…” started Tori. She gestured at the walker.

  “Truck versus motorcycle. Assassin. No longer assassinating anyone.” Wraith grinned a feral grin. “The Valkyries don’t like people messing with them.”

  “Heard about that,” said Deek. “Glad you’re improving so fast.”

  Wraith snorted. “Doesn’t feel fast, but… doing better.”

  They all ordered Cokes and waters, and a round of cheese sticks followed by grilled steak and chicken fajitas. “So, you are learning Harleys from the master,” said Wraith.

  Bonnie snorted. “Be the student now. Nine models! I’ll be years learning the ins and outs of each one.”

  Tori nodded. “We’re all learning together. Bonnie had a conversation with an engineer there, so I reached out. Told him about our Soldier Pack. He got real quiet, then he said, ‘I’ll tell you anything you want to know, but in chunks. I already need a clone as it is, and I’ve got three girls I’m raising by myself.’ I send him a list of all our questions, ‘bout twenty at a time. He sends us a short answer, sometimes a little video.”

  “Got people from all over the company answering questions,” said Bonnie. “Never seen the like. We keep it short, simple, clear. They answer us the same way. Love that about them.” She took a drink of her Coke. “Love that,” she repeated.

  Deek grinned, more focused this day. “Get to hear from real gearheads. Love it.”

  “Got a club of gearheads,” said Bonnie. “Told them about the Soldier Pack. They’re too covered with grease to plan out expanding their garage on their own, so I sent Tito out there. Got them a plan. Won’t get done ‘till next year, though. Slowpokes.”

  Wraith laughed. “One thing I can say for sure about we Nighthawks. We don’t waste time. We get a plan and get it done.”

  “Get ‘er done!” said Deek. They all clinked glasses. The server came by, and dropped off the appetizers.

  “You okay there, Anna?” asked Bonnie. “You said nothing all day.”

  “She’s recovering,” said Tori. “Some assholes back in the day.”

  “Sucks,” said Bonnie. “They catch the assholes?”

  “Naw, still out there,” said Tori.

  “We gotta do something about that,” said Bonnie.

  “Valkyries are on it,” said Wraith, stealing a cheese stick.

  “Who?” asked Deek.

  “We’re a Harley club,” said Wraith.

  “Of females that kick ass,” said Bonnie.

  “Ooohhh,” said Tori. “You’re recruiting. Me, I take it.”

  “Maybe,” said Wraith, slyly. “I’m not really ass-kicking, right now.”

  “Bullshit,” said Tori. “I want your weaponry.”

  “Would you like me to take you shopping?”

  Tori grinned. “Absolutely.”

  “She just got recruited,” said Deek.

  “What about you?” Wraith asked Anna.

  Anna looked panicked. “What?”

  “The best way to make your life awesome,” said Wraith, “is to become strong. I was a hair’s breadth from not surviving. I was in excellent physical health before the accident, so my recovery has been shorter.” She snorted. “Doesn’t feel shorter, but it is.”

  “I don’t know,” said Anna.

  “Come on down to our practice days. We get together with The Society for Creative Anachronism.”

  “Whoa,” said Tori. “I get to practice with swords?”

  The others dug into the food while Wraith took out her boot knife and passed it over. Tori tested the heft, and passed it back.

  “Lovely,” said Tori. “When?”

  “Tomorrow morning, early. Bring your clan, here. Might as well have some fun.”

  “Well, then, let’s eat and go,” said Tori. “Awesome!”

  Anna looked terrified. “Anna,” said Wraith. “You can hang out with me. I can’t damage my body again while it heals.”

  “Oh,” said Anna. “Okay.”

  The rest of their food came, and they ate like pigs. They split a chocolate-fudge-brownie ice cream concoction, and then they went hom
e. Wraith had Bonnie follow the ladies home on the pretext of finding out where they lived, and so she could take them to the field in the morning, then Bonnie dropped her off.

  Sigrun drove them in Saber’s company car. They picked up the ladies, and took them to a pancake house for breakfast, then to the field. They all put on padding, except Anna and Wraith. Wraith loved watching Sigrun work. Herja trained Tori, and Rota fought Sigrun with wooden knives. They flew around each other, braided hair flying in the light. Herja taught Tori the basics, and the two women were soon going at it with wooden stakes.

  “It’s beautiful,” said Anna. “So strong, and very fast.”

  “Which do you like better?” asked Wraith. “The knives, the staves?” The Society for Creative Anachronism, with both male and female members, were practicing with wooden swords. “Swords?”

  “Knives, dirks really, they’re so long,” said Anna.

  “Boot knives can be pretty long,” said Wraith. “Got to get up close and personal, but there are throwing knives and stars. You can sew pockets for the stars inside of a jacket. Even if you miss, it might make an attacker think twice. You can also run.” She looked down. “You have feet. Even in my condition, I could fight. Just have to be careful not to re-damage myself.”

  “How?” asked Anna.

  Wraith said, “Give me your hand.” She then froze Anna’s joints by twisting her wrist and pushing up on her arm. She let her go, immediately. “The next step is to jump up, and step forward. This will throw the person forward. Then, run like hell in the other direction.”

  Anna looked down at her hand. “That didn’t hurt.”

  “No, it’s joint freezing. Not dislocating things. You can do that, but this is just to get someone out of your damn way when you want to run.”

  “Show me,” said Anna. “Do it again.” Wraith showed her, again and again.

  Wraith called over Sigrun and and Rota. “Show the aikido hold.” She demonstrated it. Sigrun grinned, and used it to throw Rota. Rota then threw Sigrun.

  The Society people came over. “Aikido,” said the woman in the loincloth and leather top. “Let me show you, Ben.” She then threw her partner. The pairs had fun throwing each other.