He hesitated. He actually seemed to want to tell me. That alone was a surprise - normally I just expected to be kept in the dark. “Do you remember Whitney?” he asked.
I nodded. She was older than me - I remember being a freshman in high school and seeing her around, jealous of her popularity and beauty. She’d been put in the same position as me, and had taken the same option - she left. That was four or five years ago, now. It was a much bigger scandal at the time, since her father was a full member of the club. I didn’t matter as much.
“We’re here to bring her home.”
“Oh.” I looked behind him at the billboard again. Even if she’d been given the boot, the club wouldn’t be happy with her working for their rivals.
“So, be careful.” He hopped on the back of Anchor’s bike, and they sped into the parking lot, spitting gravel and revving the engine and just making as much noise as they could.
The fact that he’d left me with his bike said a lot. He trusts me. Whatever strange relationship was blooming between us, whether it would be short-lived, or if it was over already, he’d decided he trusted me. That was a lot, coming from a former MC president.
The parking lot wasn’t full, but there were cars parked in maybe half the spaces. Anchor and Nomad rode in a doughnut circle in the middle of the space. Finally, his engine cut off, and I heard voices. I couldn’t see the front door, couldn’t see who they were talking to. I wanted to sneak closer but I was afraid to leave the bike. If Nomad came back to find me alone and the bike missing, he’d likely wring my neck.
A woman screamed. Shit. I knew from past experience, a woman screaming didn’t necessarily mean the fight would end badly or even that there’d be a fight at all. But it wasn’t a good sign, either. I rested my hand on the key. He left the key! Maybe he didn’t trust me - maybe he’d simply lost his mind.
I wish I could hear what they're saying. I definitely heard raised voices, now. Trouble.
BANG. I jumped. That was a fucking gun. I moved quickly. This wouldn't be my first gunfight. It was another lesson from my youth - violently tamp down your panic. I turned the key, clipped my helmet back on, revved the engine, kicked up the stand, and burst through the branches in front of me. I should have been more worried about the guns, but all I was thinking was "Don't scratch the bike."
If there were more shots, I couldn't hear them. A big man with a long black beard stood just a few feet from the front door. A woman crouched at his feet. Whitney. He fired his gun into the parking lot, at the cars.
A second man, this one bald, stood off to the side behind another row of cars firing as well. I couldn't see Anchor or Nomad anywhere. Ducking behind the cars. Unharmed, I hope.
My heart was racing. I could hear the blood rushing in my head, feel my lungs taking big, shaky gulps of air, but I bottled up those feelings and thought quickly and clearly. I didn't want to risk Whitney's safety, so I turned towards the bald guy and accelerated. As he turned and aimed at me, I wondered in passing if my helmet was bulletproof.
I jerked the steering right, then left, making an erratic path towards him. Unpredictable moving targets are harder to hit. At the last moment of my approach, when I could see the whites of his eyes, he tried to dive out of my way.
He was too slow. The front tire clipped his ass mid-dive and sent him sprawling. The gun flew from his hands and slid beneath the cars.
I wasted no time. I jumped from the bike and tried to ease its fall, but, it fell. Nomad will have a fit.
Removing my helmet as I ran, I reached the bald guy before he could scramble to his feet, dazed as he was by the fall.
I swung and slammed my helmet against the back of his head. He fell forward again with a howl. "Fucking bitch!"
Then, Nomad was towering above him, a gun in each hand. The man clamped his mouth shut and showed his palms as he sat up.
"That's right," Nomad said, "Fight's over. She got you." He extended one of the guns toward me. I shook my head, but I took it when he glared. "She's keeping your gun. You're lucky we don't burn this place down."
I was buzzing all over with adrenaline, but again kept a tight reign on myself. Now was not the time to whoop and holler with our victory, or to grab and kiss Nomad, who looked darkly sexy when he was so angry. "Where's Whitney?" I asked. I held the weapon away from me, like a dead rat.
"Tuck that away," he growled. I shoved it into the back of my pants the way the other guys did. "I told you to stay where you were."
"Did I save your ass, or did I save your ass?" He scowled. "Is she okay?"
He practically knocked me aside as he strode towards his bike. "See for yourself."