Ironside

by Alexis Abbott

  “How do you feel now?” I ask softly, stroking her hair.

  “Safe,” she murmurs, beaming up at me.

  I slowly slide out of her and grab a towel nearby to clean up before I slide into bed against her and hold her close, listening to her murmur as she melts into my rough, hardened body.

  “I meant what I said earlier,” she whispers to me through the calm silence. “About how you make me feel. I can’t explain it. I know you think I’m naive, but I know what I see in you.”

  I open my mouth to answer, but I’m interrupted by the sound of a loud and sudden banging on the door that makes Justine jump in my arms. I squeeze her shoulder and cover her in the blanket before standing up and pulling my pants up and closed.

  “This had better be important,” I mutter to myself before yanking the door open just enough to stick my head out.

  I’m greeted by the sight of Skid, one of our members, looking at me slack-jawed and pointing up the stairs, where I hear commotion.

  “Ironside, we’ve got a situation, it’s an emergency,” he says urgently. “One of Diesel’s officers just pulled up outside.”

  I blink in disbelief. “What?”

  “Yeah,” he says, and I can tell when Skid isn’t kidding around. “And you’re never gonna believe this: he wants out.”

  A minute later, I throw the front doors open and stride outside, fully dressed and wearing my kutte as the afternoon sun casts an orange light on the scene in front of the bar. Against my will, of course, Justine is already at the nearest open window, watching with wide eyes as I approach.

  Bones and Big Daddy both have shotguns trained on a tall man straddling his bike, and Breaker stands between them, arms crossed, staring the man down before turning his head to look at me. He gives a nod as I approach.

  “Welcome to the party,” he says. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a wannabe turncoat.”

  “No shit?” I say, narrowing my eyes at the man.

  He’s broad-shouldered and built strong and lean. He’s a few years younger than me, and he looks like he knows how to throw his weight in a fight. His eyes show their tension even though he’s keeping a mild face, hands raised and fingers splayed.

  “Again, guys, you’ve literally got me at gunpoint,” the turncoat says, trying to sound affable. “The reinforcements are starting to be a little much.”

  “Don’t make me come over there and gag you,” Big Daddy growls. “It’s been a slow day, I don’t need much of an excuse.”

  “What’s your name?” I ask the guy, brow furrowed.

  “Tank,” he grunts, and I notice the kutte hanging on his handlebars.

  “And what’s that?” I ask, pointing to Diesel’s MC colors.

  “Like I was tellin’ your friend here,” he says, nodding to Breaker, “that’s my peace offering. I’m Diesel’s enforcer, and I’m here to talk, since putting that fucker in the ground seems to be a, uh, mutual interest of ours,” he says, gesturing between us with a still-raised hand.

  “That why you’re here?” Breaker asks. “To betray a man who trusts you?”

  “Yup,” he says bluntly. “Put a knife and his back and twist until I don’t have to twist no more.”

  “This is obviously a trap,” Bones says, glancing back at us. “Right? I mean, come on.”

  “Mighty strong words for Diesel’s trusted man,” Breaker points out, nodding. “Don’t know if I can trust a traitor. But hey, a dead Buzzsaw is better than nothing.”

  “Why’d you change your mind so quick?” I ask Tank, crossing my arms.

  He gives a snort of a laugh. “Trusted man my ass. I’m the fucker’s cousin.”

  Our eyebrows collectively go up in surprise.

  “I signed up with him when I heard he was running an MC since I had nowhere else to go,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders. “I’d just been discharged, and we both rode, so it sounded good to me. He kept me at a distance, tried to keep me in the dark about what was going on with the girls.”

  “So you were involved in that?” Breaker says as Bones and Big Daddy steady their aims again.

  “Shit, I slowed his operation down any way I could,” he growls, smile fading. “Trucks breaking down, people getting tipped off, I was careful, but I knew he’d have me dead before sundown if I just tried to bail on the whole thing. So I did what I could from the inside, and now I want out,” he says, looking at each of us pointedly. “I’ve got the contacts to prove it, too.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that,” Breaker says with an ominous smile. “We’ll get the truth out of you, if it’s there. Get him inside,” Breaker orders, and the two gunmen lower their weapons to approach Tank and pull him off the bike.

  “Easy, bud,” he grunts at Bones, who has him by the wrists. “If I came here looking for a fight, you’d know.

  The guys lead him inside, and I bring up the rear. I catch Justine’s pale face in the window as she watches the proceedings, and I feel a twinge of guilt that she’s being exposed to something as crude as this. Her eyes follow us all the way to the stairs and down them into the clubhouse proper, as Breaker looks over his shoulder at me with a wicked smile.

  “Old Ironside here has military experience too,” he says to Tank. “I hear he’s a specialist at getting people like you to sing for us.”

  Even though I feel Justine’s eyes on my back, I need to put the group’s needs first and keep this stranger on his toes. I reach behind me and unsheathe my combat knife, pretending I can’t hear Justine’s soft, troubled gasp. I look over my shoulder to see her disappearing into my room, and I frown.

  The guys lead Tank into our meeting room, but I pause by one of the members lounging in the downstairs seats, watching us.

  “Make sure the girl doesn’t leave the building,” I order him. “She can wander, but she stays in these walls until we know it’s safe.”

  “You got it, boss,” the biker says as I stride into the room and see Tank’s reflection in my knife before I let the door swing behind me.

  Justine

  I should be terrified to the core. I should be absolutely quaking as I sit here frozen in place, perched on the edge of the bed, my eyes trained on the door. How could I ever have been so foolish as to think the rough-edged man who saved me could be a real prince charming? How could I have lulled myself into such a false sense of safety? I heard the way those men yell at each other, how they hurled out that threat about Ironside pulling a mean interrogation if he needed to. It’s such a stark contrast to the lovely, attentive, compassionate man who has shown me little else but pure kindness and tolerance despite the tangled-up mess we have fallen into together. I sit here, gently swinging my legs and rocking back and forth, as I so often do when faced with a complex conundrum. And what I saw out there looked just like a scene from one of those myriad gangbanger movies my parents would never have allowed to touch our television set back home. But still, there have been times when I managed to sneak down to the den after all my family members are asleep, so I could curl up on the sofa and watch crime shows on mute, my eyes squinting to follow the subtitles just so I’d have some faint idea of what was going on. Through these private, secret viewings, I gleaned what it means to be in an interrogation room, to have that bright fluorescent light beaming painfully into your eyes while you grapple with the truth and the lies that brought you there in the first place. Or at least that’s how my admittedly active imagination fills in the scene.

  And it certainly didn’t seem like Ironside or any of the others were joking around out there. They were serious. They meant business when they dragged that big new guy into the clubhouse. I have no doubt about the fact that Ironside is capable of intimidation and interrogation tactics. Although he has been overwhelmingly patient and gentle with me, I can sense the urgency and the determination crackling like electricity just beneath the surface. He’s a powerful man with formidable skills, and I should be very, very afraid of him. And in some ways, I am. He strikes an impressive figure. But
underneath my fear is something even more powerful than anything else I have ever felt before: affection. Closeness. A longing to be intimate, not just physically, but emotionally and spiritually, with the man who could snap me in half without breaking a sweat. Something about him just draws me right in. He makes me weak and vulnerable at the same time that he makes me feel empowered. I am reminded suddenly of the things I learned in school about the moon and her light. The sun is the true powerhouse producing its own heat and light, but the moon can only glow when she shares that light with the sun. Perhaps that is not so far off from what I have been slowly building up with my mysterious savior. He is the sun, blazing red-hot and bright, and I am the moon, glowing stronger and more beautiful when he is standing behind me.

  Suddenly, it feels like the bottoms of my feet are itchy. Longing to get moving, to get closer to the sun whose rays I miss like the morning misses the stars. I can’t just sit here wasting time and twiddling my thumbs while something definitely interesting and potentially dangerous carries on just down the hall. I’m antsy, restless like a tumbleweed blowing across the dusty desert crust. I am compelled by curiosity to slide off the bed, pad softly across the room, and peek out into the hallway. Most of the doors are shut completely or left wide open, but there is one door down the hall which is only partly ajar, a tiny crack that gives out a flicker of light from within. I can hear several male voices communicating among each other, but most notably, Ironside’s deep, sonorous rumble. I realize as I step along the hallway that they are all gathered in the meeting room. I slide like a shadow down the wall, close enough to flatten myself out but not close enough to brush against the wall and make a noise. I hope they can’t hear my heart racing as I sidle up to the door. I hold my breath and strain my ears to listen.

  The first voice I can isolate is Ironside’s. To my relief, he sounds commanding but not cruel. His tone is even and calm as he asks questions. The voices sound tense, certainly, but not like there’s any actual torture going on. Thank god. Yet. That is mildly comforting.

  And when I hear the voice of the man called Tank, it becomes even clearer to me that this is not so much an interrogation as a discussion. He seems to be just as involved in the conversation as anyone else. Maybe more.

  “Look, I didn’t roll up here to start trouble with you all,” Tank defends himself. “I don’t have beef with you. It’s Diesel I’m looking for.”

  “Well, then, you’ve come to the wrong place,” interjects Bones. “Like we told you before: Diesel ain’t here.”

  “If that’s true, then there’s something else I have to ask of you,” says Tank.

  “And what might that be?” growls Ironside. A shiver runs down my spine.

  “Protection,” Tank says flat out. “Protection from Diesel and his cohorts. Way I see it, the best way to do that and align myself against the bastard is to join you all.”

  “Join us, how?” Breaker asks warily.

  “I want to be one of you. A Heartbreaker,” Tank answers.

  “Ha,” one of the others scoffs.

  “I’m serious,” Tank asserts.

  “Right, and what would you have to offer us?” asks the one I think is called Big Daddy.

  “More than that,” Ironside says. “How can we possibly trust you in the first place?”

  “Good fucking question,” Breaker grunts.

  “Yeah, we have no reason to believe a word you say, kid,” Big Daddy agrees.

  I can hear a hint of smugness in his voice when Tank replies slowly, “Well, I just so happen to have some information that might make us bosom buddies if you just give me a chance to explain it to you.”

  “Great. Here’s your chance,” Ironside says imperiously. “Start talking.”

  “Alright, thank you! So, just for starters, I can give you the name of one of Diesel’s most popular and successful clubs: Eden’s Backdoor. A little on the nose, I know, but trust me when I tell you it’s a fitting name. What’s more: I know exactly how many men are guarding it. I know precisely how many girls they have working there right now,” Tank reveals.

  “Sure you do,” Bones quips.

  “Yeah, I think we’re going to have to get that information confirmed for ourselves rather than trusting your best guess,” Breaker insists.

  “It’s not a guess. It’s a fact,” Tank growls. “Why are you all so resistant to the truth?”

  “I don’t know you, man. You haven’t earned my trust. Your truth is no better than mine as far as I can tell,” Big Daddy insinuates.

  “I like to do my own research,” Breaker adds.

  “Ugh, you’re wasting time!” Tank groans. “Just listen to me!”

  “You know so much and yet you still couldn’t figure out Diesel isn’t here with us? Rolled up here guns-a-blazing, thinking you got it all figured out,” Bones says. “Sounds fishy to me.”

  “Stop,” Ironside interrupts firmly. “There’s no need to confirm what Tank says. I already did. I scoped that place out: Eden’s Backdoor. I suspected it was one of Diesel’s locations back then, but I didn’t have proof in hand at the time.”

  As I hear him say those heart-stopping words, I notice that if the door is just slightly more ajar, I could probably see into the room. My chest aches as I hold my breath and slowly reach to nudge the door farther open with my thumb at my side. I’m peering over my shoulder, trying to bend ever so slightly around the molded cornice of the door frame to look into the room. I know it’s a huge risk I am taking, but my curiosity burns inside of me like a bonfire, and I can no easier leave it alone than stop breathing. That has always been my detriment-- I have to fight for knowledge. I have to push out and out further into this wild world to fill in the gaping crevasses of things I don’t understand. It’s never enough for me to simply stand quietly by and eavesdrop with my ears. Of course, not. I have to see the scene unfolding with my own two eyes in order to be properly satisfied. It’s to my detriment, I’m sure, but I can’t resist. I have to look.

  So I crack the door just marginally more open and slowly, silently turn to look into the room with one eye. As soon as my eye adjusts to the depth and distance, I notice a large table around which the men are seated. And at the far head of the table, facing my way directly, is Ironside. Instantly, I freeze up, terrified to breathe or move a muscle. He’s not looking right at me, but he might as well be. I shrink back from the door slightly, but still give myself a tiny sliver to observe with my one eye open.

  “So, then, you should know for a fact you can trust me! I have all the right information, I swear. I can give you numbers. I might even be able to give you some names if you let me think about it,” Tank asserts.

  “I don’t know about this,” Big Daddy grunts, sounding unconvinced.

  “Yeah, me neither. I don’t like it,” says Bones, shaking his head. “Think about it, guys. It could all just be a setup.”

  “What the hell are you accusing me of now?” Tank snaps.

  “You heard me,” Bones hisses back.

  “Now, Bones, hold up. If this was all a big setup, then they could have gone through a hell of a lot less trouble than sending this guy to spy on us,” Breaker points out.

  “Still, I don’t think he’s worth the risk to keep him around,” Big Daddy insists.

  “The risk? I’m offering you rewards! I’m an asset, can’t you see?” Tank claims.

  At just that moment, Ironside’s eyes finally flick straight to me. My body stiffens up and my blood runs icy cold. I can feel my heart stuttering and tripping over itself as alarm bells sound off in my head. His gaze is only locked onto mine for a few seconds, but it might as well have been a few hours. The effect is the same. I’m stunned and startled and regretting my decision to rudely eavesdrop on business that has nothing to do with me.

  I hear Ironside’s voice strike up and I’m nearly dizzy with worry, thinking he’s going to call me out. But then, he simply says, “We ought to send our new friend Tank back to Diesel to play the mole for our side
. You know the deal. Feed us info on the down-low. Keep Diesel’s suspicions off our backs.”

  “Now, wait just a minute,” Big Daddy grumbles.

  “I’m in! I’ll take it!” Tank interjects enthusiastically.

  “You’re ballsy enough to do that? Really?” Bones scoffs.

  “Hell yes. I want to take Diesel down by whatever means necessary, you understand?” Tank declares. “I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty.”

  “So, what’s the plan, then?” Breaker asks.

  Ironside answers coolly, “We send Tank back to Diesel with a good cover story to explain his absence. He falls back into ranks, works his way up through the bullshit to get there. To get close to Diesel. We stay in communication, but we make it as low-risk as possible. And then, when it comes time to strike, we’ll set up something that’ll hit Diesel. Hard.”

  “You think this guy can handle all that, Ironside?” Bones asks dubiously.

  “What do you say, Tank?” Ironside puts to him.

  “I say throw me in, coach,” he agrees eagerly.

  Great,” Ironside says. I feel another shiver run down my spine when I hear his chair legs scrape lightly across the floor, then his echoing footsteps as he stands up. Oh god. And when I hear the next words out of his mouth, I feel like I might collapse where I stand.

  “Where you going, man?” Breaker asks him.

  “I’m going to go deal with our little eavesdropper,” Ironside growls.

  I let out a tiny squeak of fear and go barreling down the hallway to the bedroom, my heart pounding away like crazy in my chest. It hurts to breathe, my whole body is in full-fledged panic mode. I can’t help it-- the sound of a man coming after me, the growl of a man’s voice as he accuses me, the rush of my own blood in my ears, the tears burning in my eyes-- it’s all a reflex response to the sensation of being caught red-handed by a powerful man. My father instilled in me a kind of fear I still fall apart to face.