In Bed With The Outlaw (13 page)

After a hoot, the men hopped onto their bikes or into the front vehicles. The foremost vehicle caught my attention. It was a huge van fitted with armor and a ram.

There was a scream all around for King. Then the bikes tore it up, close to a hundred powerful engines starting at once. It sounded like the first explosion to the war. We pulled out in formation, streaming out of our compound like they opened the gates of hell.

We took the back roads fast. My eyes were peeled ahead, my adrenaline fueling me and keeping me wide awake. There was fear there, but that was fine. I was old enough and tough enough where I understood fear. I could use fear to my advantage. If any of the other guys didn’t feel it, they were stupid, and being stupid could lead you to an early retirement.

My mind drifted to Ash...

The Blessed Bastards were about to show their true colors. Would she ever want me if she knew the truth? If she knew who I really was?

My resolve hardened as we approached the barricades. Everyone kicked it up, accelerating at high speed. The Defilers’ traveling compound was housed in a circular valley, burnt orange mountains surrounding them on all sides. We thought about putting snipers up on the hills, but we didn’t want any casualties to our men by stray fire. This would have to be up close and personal.

The Defilers’ barricade was nothing like ours back at the compound. They had two busted-up, rusted cars pointed together, blocking off access through a wedge that led to the center of the valley.

I wouldn’t have wanted to be at the front of the line, because we weren’t stopping, not even with the armored van hurdling at over sixty miles per hour at the barricade. I watched as one of The Defilers staggered into view. He must’ve been sleeping on his shift. Maybe he was strung out.

The van slammed right through the center of the cars. Both spun in opposite directions, one flipping over and pinning the Defiler, never to be seen again. We blasted through, into the heart of The Defiler compound, more like a hippie campground at Burning Man.

The front of the line drove past the tents and opened fire. The front bikes kept traveling on to the edge of the compound. The rest of us pulled back.

They streamed out from their tents. Some of them must’ve been sleeping or passed out with their guns by their side, because soon enough, we were met with return fire. A Bastard in front of me, a younger guy with short, cropped hair, aimed his rifle in the distance as a Defiler stormed out from a cramped tent with a shotgun. The shotgun blasted him back. One Bastard down. A brother gone.

“Fuck,” I grunted, unloading on him. By the time I aimed my rifle, he was already dead, shot up by the crew.

Up ahead, Cole ducked behind a steel drum, but not quick enough. Stray fire struck him and he crashed into it. Someone ran over to tend to him as I stalked into the compound, keeping my rifle at the ready.

A bunch of Defilers holed up in a trailer shot from the windows. Our men took cover behind the armored van, returning fire. Jackal crouched and unloaded. My gut sank when I noticed my brother.

A greasy, sweaty meth head crawled toward a busted open tent to my right. I knew he was up to no good. As soon as he grabbed a fallen shotgun in the tent, I gave him a stiff boot to the side of the head, knocking him out. I kicked the shotgun away.

“Grenade,” I heard. I watched as Boots ran up to the trailer while brothers covered him.

Boots tossed the grenade, courtesy of my arms stockpile, inside the trailer’s window. I hoped that it would go off, otherwise it would be my head.

When the grenade went off, the explosion shattering the windows and blowing walls off the trailer, everything slowed.

Heaviness crushed my chest, spreading outward. I dropped to my knees. My heart clenched, sucking the breath from me, winding me in a tight, painful embrace. I looked down, flipping open my colors, but never taking them off. Blood spurted from my shoulder. I brushed my fingers across the wound, the size of a bullet.

I was shot.

My eyes scanned the battlefield. The Bastards were making short work of The Defilers. They were putting them down.

Lee sprinted back to me.

I held my hand up, not wanting him to come close. Something wasn’t right.

Lee was lit up. His chest exploded with a red mist popping in my face. He fell face first, another round of bullets marking his already downed body.

What in the fuck?

I noticed a glint on the mountain above.

“Snipers,” I yelled, flinging my good arm.

Someone must’ve heard me. They radioed in for the chopper. It came hovering back up from the camp to check the outlying mountains.

I took shelter behind a truck. The sniper fire continued, but now the men in the chopper blasted away with their automatic rifles. Checking out from behind the truck’s tires, I spotted someone with a Defiler’s cut hobbling over to one of our trucks that had an unmanned machine gun on the bed.

The rest of my brothers were busy taking cover, and they were farther ahead. If he got to that machine gun, he could take out the chopper, and then we’d be easy pickings for the snipers.

Standing, still holding my bleeding arm, now painting the whole of me with bright red, I staggered after him.

Then I ran. I charged.

It wasn’t rage that pushed me that extra mile. It was fucking honor. It was for my brothers. For Ash. Her beautiful smile flashed in my eyes and drove me on, so that I could see her again.

I knew I needed to do this for my brothers, for King.

He hopped onto the back of the truck. I could see the helicopter was right in his view. All he needed to do was pull the trigger, and he’d cause some major hell.

As soon as his fingers dropped onto the trigger, I crashed into him, slamming his face against the back of the machine gun.

I dropped. Slumped over the gun, I crashed onto the back of the truck bed. Ears ringing, and then going dull, everything going bleak, I knew this was it. I was leaving this world.

There was no stopping it.

W
ork dragged on
. How was anyone supposed to work when their boyfriend was in a shootout?
Boyfriend.
Not quite. The night before had been magical. Still, that didn’t change anything. Our situation was the same.

It neared my clock out time, four o’clock, and I woke up from cleaning the same table for the past half hour. My mind was on Red.

Please, please, be okay.

He kind of pissed me off that he wouldn’t sleep in the same bed with me. That raised alarms. Why couldn’t he make the night perfect? It had been nearly perfect. I could’ve crawled into his burly arms, falling asleep next to him, so safe. Was that so hard?

It was understandable, I guess. He didn’t want to be distracted. I didn’t want him to be distracted, either.

Listen to me, trying to rationalize what he was doing. Murder. Even if The Defilers were a nastier bunch. He was still going to war...which I had to admit and stop ignoring it like a little girl afraid to admit that Santa Claus wasn’t real—meant killing. War to these men didn’t mean a barroom brawl. It meant death.

We weren’t supposed to check our phones on the floor, so I needed to run to the back. Despite not getting a buzz, I frequently checked for a call. As soon as I hurried to the kitchen, my phone buzzed in my apron.

It was Joy. She wrote “You need to come back ASAP.”

I scrolled down, but that was the end of it. Way to make me freak out, Joy. Good job. My heart raced. Holding onto the prep line, I held myself still so that I wouldn’t faint.

“What’s going on?” I texted back, fingers a blur.

It took her an agonizing long minute to reply.

“Can’t talk about it. Need to come here,” was her answer. Great.

I squeezed the phone in my fist. Then I released, hoping I didn’t break the precious thing. How could she leave me up in the air like that?
Red, Red, please don’t die, please don’t leave me
, looped as I rushed to punch out.

“Got to leave early. I’ll pick up my ten minutes tomorrow,” I yelled to Francis. He was in his office, his door only open a slit, so I hoped he heard me.

“Okay,” he shouted back. He was clearly confused. No time to explain.

Clocking out, I hurried to my car.

ASAP, Joy said. ASAP, which wasn’t good. Not good at all. Why would I need to come? Me? There must be something wrong with Red.

It was absurd how much emotion I had attached to him perhaps, but I couldn’t fight it. That’s how I knew it was real. I could usually rationalize if I was acting emotional, try to straighten myself out like it was no problem, but when it came to Red, all bets were off.

Once I reached their compound, there was extra security. Rifles, once again, were lowered and aimed at me. Extra snipers were stationed on the roofs.

Rolling down my window, they spotted me as I stuck my head out. They waved me on. I noticed that Ramos, Roxy’s boyfriend, was stationed at the gates. If he made it, maybe Red did too?

There was a huddle of cars as soon as I rolled past the gate. People I didn’t recognize bustled between buildings. No one seemed like they were idly standing about, except for Roxy, sipping from a bottle of green tea as she leaned against the complex wall.

As soon as she saw me, she pushed off. “Hey, you need to come with me,” she said.

Darkness crashed into me, sucking me down. I was deep down in a hole, unsure if I could ever climb out again. She tugged at my hand. I followed as if walking on air. We went into a building directly across from the apartments.

It looked like a waiting room inside. It was packed. A group huddled in the corner and I could hear someone crying. Again, not good. Roxy continued pulling me into a hallway which resembled a doctor’s office. There were plenty of rooms, but the doors were all closed.

Stale air, wailing, and frantic voices didn’t relax me. Only when we came to the last room, and Roxy propped it open, was I pulled from that dark pit and shown the light.

Red was there. And he was alive.

“Red,” I screamed as I rushed into the small room and hugged him, embracing him madly. I heard the door creak closed behind us.

I was thankful to have him against me again. I hadn’t noticed how cold I had gotten. Red warmed me right up. When I pulled away to look at him in bed, that’s when I noticed the sling across his arm.

He was shirtless. Only in jeans. His old jeans were on the floor and spotted with blood. He looked drained, much paler than I remembered, but he still smiled. There were cuts and scrapes all over his muscled frame, but what worried me the most was the damage done to his left arm.

“What happened?”

He shrugged, flexed with a wince of pain, and looked down at the sling. “Took a bullet. It didn’t hit anything important. The doctor said I should be fine in a month or so.”

Why did that not sound like the full truth? Putting a hand on my hip, I gave Red a quizzical look.

“Took a bullet? Who says that like it’s an everyday thing? Where’s the doctor?”

He shifted away. “Doctor is busy,” he grunted.

“What are you hiding?”

“Not hiding. I’m not going to lie, it hurts like hell, but I was lucky. There was blood loss. I collapsed. I came back and they had me loaded up in a truck, ready to head back. Doctor here took the bullet out, and it didn’t hit any nerves or bone, so I’m lucky, damn lucky. Not everyone was so lucky.”

I reached for his hand. He brushed his fingers across my palm. His touch rang through me.

“I was a nervous wreck.”

“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry. I needed to do this.”

He looked haggard, but still beautiful. How does one get more tired and more beautiful? It didn’t work that way for women most of the time—at least, I didn’t think so. It wasn’t fair.

Fingers hooked, I let him caress my palms, helping me unwind. He was here. That was the important part. Red wasn’t taken from me.

He brushed his fingers past my cheek. Red held me by the back of my neck, lowering my sights down to his intense stare.

“Like I said, I’m not going anywhere. There’s nothing stopping me from being with you. Nothing could ever stop that.”

Ready to hop onto his lap and be wrapped in his comforting arms, I was stopped once the door flung open and slammed into the wall. Bastards strode in and hollered, “Red. There he is,” like they were mega fans bursting into a star’s dressing room.

One of them was Boots. He slapped Red on the shoulder. Red grimaced. A stab of pain seemed to sink into his arm, and his abs drew in, shaking and trying to hold him up.

“Careful,” I told them.

Boots turned to me quickly. “Hi, there, hun.” Then he turned back to Red while other men stood around in glee.

“What you did was nothing short of heroic.”

“Heard you took out four of them, and a machine gunner?”

Red held a hand up. His nostrils twitched. His eyebrows practically met.

“Thanks, guys,” he started, but they continued.

“If you didn’t take that scumbag out, we would’ve been in major shit.”

Boots nodded and crossed his arms. “Good job, kid. You were a beast out there. They’re all talking about you, ‘The Red Bastard’ they’re calling you now. I wanted to call you ‘The Red Beast’, but they chose ‘The Red Bastard’. Said it sounds flashier. The way you cut through them, that was something else. Haven’t seen that in a long time.”

“Took the machine gunner out with his bare hands,” one of them added.

Killed? The Red Bastard? How many men had Red killed?

And with his bare hands? He hung his head low. He couldn’t look me in the eyes.

“Thanks, guys. Sorry, I need time alone.”

They grinned and chuckled. Boots waved them out. “We’ll let you get your sweet desserts. Come on, guys.”

They exited as quickly as they entered. I searched the door, but I couldn’t find a lock. “Don’t you have locks here?” I growled.

Spinning back to Red, I expected him to still be sheepishly looking to the floor. He honed in on me. He reached out for me to take his hand, the offering of a murderer. I was reminded of my mission, to bust The Bastards, to stop the senseless killing.

This man, even if I cared about him, was part of that. I had a duty to stop him.

“Come on,” he said. He reached for me again.

Looking into his hazel eyes flecked with gold, I saw something more than a pure murderer. The ocean blue was stormy, but there was still a paradise in there, a greenish tint of a cozy forest retreat. Red, he was complicated, even his eyes told me that.

I took his hand.

“Nothing is going to come between us now,” he said. He pulled me in. My thighs spread, and I hovered above him, my stomach close to his lips. He could easily take me if he wanted to.

Pressed so close to him, my body ached for him.

But there was something he just said... “Nothing is going to come between us now,” that I couldn’t shake. It wasn’t true. Red had told me everything, but I wasn’t telling him truth.

This would never work.

My life was based on lies. Lies that I told him. To ruin his life.

This was a fairy tale that couldn’t last. Nothing good could come from this. In the short term, maybe, but in the long term? This wasn’t serious.

I placed my hands on his. I slowly peeled myself away from him. The excitement in me, the erotic energy, denied my retreat, and a rush hit me, telling me to take another step forward. Being in his arms would be easy. It would be a quick fix.

But I couldn’t keep up with the lie. Not with Red. I cared about him too much.

“I’m exhausted. I drove over after a long shift. If it’s all right, I’m going back to my place to pass out.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” he said, running his fingers through his slicked-back hair. He let them drop with a groan. He stopped looking at me.

“I’m glad you’re okay. I was really worried.”

“Yeah, thanks for coming,” he said. His face was stone. His eyes were fixed a million miles away.

“Sorry I can’t stay,” I said as I reached for the door. God, this was awkward.

“It’s fine,” he said. I shut the door. I slid my back against the wall and tried to catch my breath. I had made it out of the lion’s den.

But the lion was still on the prowl...

I knew I hadn’t gotten completely away. Not yet.

I
t was a long night
. Sleep didn’t come easily. Trying to decide what to do, I took out a pen and a paper and scribbled on the top “Red,” and the other side “Job,” and tried to think of the best reasons as to why I would leave one or the other. In the Red column, there were things like “Unbelievably sexy,” “many orgasms,” and in the right column under Job there was “Stop murderers,” “justice.”

Taking some time to fantasize about those many orgasms that were in my future, I spread out and reclined on my bed. The contractors had fixed my sliding glass door. They also installed a security system. Like promised, Red had fixed what he had broken, and more.

“What am I going to do?” I asked out loud, crutching my head, ready to wring my hair, but I bunched up the sheets instead and wrapped my legs around them like I was trying to put a headlock on it with my thighs.

It was clear what I
should
do. What I was going to do was a different matter.

Guilty pleasure, mind-numbing reality TV was on, so I watched housewives fight it out for a couple hours. Eventually, around twelve, I tried the bed again. Once I woke, and there was some real time that had passed since I last saw Red, my focus was sharper.

I grabbed the paper and circled “Job.” There was a heaviness in my chest once I put the pen down. My decision wasn’t a happy one, but it was the one I would have to do. Picking up my phone, I stared at Red’s name in my contacts far too long.

The text sent read “Hey, I want to meet up at our spot. I’ve got something to tell you. It’ll be private.”

Sending it without thinking, as soon as I did, I slapped my forehead. That sounded so creepy. Wasn’t I supposed to be tricking him? It was like I was trying to be found out. Remembering what they did to snitches, and remembering who Red really was, I went into action, pulling out a bunch of equipment from underneath my bed.

There were many choices of documenting my case. Small cameras on keys, on a pen, and microphones that could be strapped around my waist and tucked beneath my collar. It was amazing how small they could make microphones.

I tucked my pistol into my back holster.

Red replied. “When do you want to meet?”

That was good. The text hadn’t scared him off.

“When can you meet? I can go anytime.”

“I’ll leave in ten minutes. Leave in fifteen. I don’t want you getting there before me,” he replied.

That was sweet. He didn’t want me adventuring all by my lonesome in the middle of the desert. He was looking after my wellbeing. Meanwhile, what was I doing? Trying to ruin him?

I grabbed the pen, the key, and then strapped myself in with the microphone, letting the wire reach around my waistband, and then I left, making sure that I left fifteen minutes later, like he said, just to give Red a break.

It was a cloudy day on the verge of rain. Sand whipped and dust blew from the roadside as if my car could be swept up in a sand storm at any moment.

On the drive there, I wouldn’t allow myself to get emotional. If I started to think about it now, I would break. I parked near the path that led to our romantic scene far too soon.

Red stepped off his bike. He somehow managed to drive it with the sling. His disposition was sunny, his form still tall and intimidating in the black Bastard colors, reminding me that he was strong, that he would survive, that it would take more than a bullet to the arm to take Red down.

I didn’t want to get out of my car, but I knew I couldn’t hide in there forever. I shut the door and slowly walked up to Red. He straightened his jacket as I approached.

“What’s up, babe?”

“Hey,” I said.

“What’s so urgent?”

This was the part where I lied to him, telling him that I wanted to live with him at the compound, that I wanted to be inducted as an old lady. But I couldn’t force the words out. They were stuck. They were someone else’s words. They weren’t mine.