Iron (4 page)

“They’ll keep you safe,” I say. She nods again and I embrace her, not caring if the men see. I’ll get shit for it, but fuck ‘em. They’re on my side after all. I catch Surge looking a bit smug as I release Cassie, and I meet his gaze and nod knowingly.

Surge doesn’t want me to deal with Rifle. But I know where he lives, and he needs to be dealt with.

. . .

I leave Cassie at the bar and get back on my motorcycle. Confident she’ll be safe, I jump on the highway and head down the south-bound connector to reach Rifle’s neighborhood. I know he lives alone, in a shitty apartment like me, and he needs to have some sense beaten into him. He seemed so sincere when he talked to me the night we were raiding the bars for street cred, so I don’t know what happened. Lingering doubt or guilt? Maybe he was the one keeping the bartenders from calling the cops on us, only making us believe that it was our brute force making us untouchable. But like a snake in a garden, he only looks scary. Harmless if confronted... and easily decapitated with a shovel.

I exit the highway and give my engine a few twists of life as I kick it into lower gears. My arms feel tense like coiled springs. I have to reassure myself this won’t be a violent confrontation, because I just don’t know what direction it could go. If I want to, I could blame Rifle for getting Cassie mixed up in this. For getting Rattlesnake on her tail and terrorizing her. Hell, for getting Rattlesnake killed.

Navigating the neighborhoods is strange. They feel similar to mine, but the streets are all in the wrong direction. They’re empty, with no kids playing soccer or cutting classes. No dogs tied to chain link fences, and large dead tress line the overgrown lawns of the boarded up houses. My bike echoes off the wooden and broken down garage doors, and I try to silence the sound a little by coasting out of gear.

Not long after, I locate his house. It’s a small hovel, and there’s no bikes parked along the side of the road or anything. The garage is closed, and I imagine if he isn’t home, he’s out with the Skeletons stirring shit up. I steer my bike along the side of a neighbor’s driveway and hike next door. Anything that’ll keep suspicion just a little low is helpful.

I knock on the door a couple of times and stand back. No sounds from inside the house, and no evidence that anyone is home at all. Doubt starts to creep in, as it always does in these kinds of situations. What am I doing here? I already know how it’ll go down. He’ll tell me to fuck off, that I don’t know shit. Isn’t that what he started with when I first met him at the bar? He’s just a huge jack off and has been since the beginning.

But what he said at the bar that night... what was it? He mentioned California. Things aren’t the same here. What did he mean? How would he even know about all that? I have a feeling Surge wasn’t the one who told him about our last outing with the Los Devils together. Maybe the Skeletons have someone else on the inside... besides Rifle. Talk about driving the nail into the coffin. If Ruin Outlaws had two rival members in it’s ranks, it might as well be disbanded.

I turn away from the front door and get ready to descend the small stoop and walk back to my bike. The door clicks and swings open and I turn to see Rifle glaring through the battered and torn screen door.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

I didn’t expect a warm welcome. “Don’t start with that shit, you know exactly why I’m here.”

“Shut up, I don’t have shit to say to you or anyone else. Especially Surge. You better fucking beat it while you can still use your throttle hand.”

I step back up to the screen and get so close I can smell the vinyl. His eyes are dark and red. I can tell something’s off about him. I hold my hand against the screen and push against it. “Remember this shit, Rifle?” My scar tissue presses against the screen first, the raised callus having nearly filled the ditch of my palm. “You have this too, you know. You were the one eager to do it.”

He stares hard at me, ignoring my hand. “I just wanted to get outta that shit hole. You think I give a shit about some stupid ritual you had us do? One you probably made up on the spot?”

“Didn’t you ever see Surge’s hands? He’s got one too.”

“Who cares about Surge?”

I’m restless and angered, but I try a different tact. “You know what Petrol said when everyone said you oughta hang for betraying us? He said you were still a brother.”

He’s silent for a moment and grows stiff. He doesn’t break eye contact, but his body language changes. His hands disappear behind his back and he grunts a little. “You better leave before I have to kill you, Bomb. You were the one going on about trust and loyalty, but you had that chick behind your back the whole time. I bet the crew still don’t know shit about it either.”

“They do, you’re the one who doesn’t know shit. She’s — .” I stop short, realizing what I’m about to say. He cocks an eyebrow.

“She’s what? She’s at the bar right now? How god damn convenient for us.”

“You’re high or something, I can see it.”

“What does it matter to you?” He pushes against the screen and knocks me back as he opens it. As I’m recovering my balance, he exits his house and raises a gun. He points it at me. “Get the fuck outta here.”

I stare hard at him. “You don’t have the guts to pull that trigger. You’re weak. Leaving your crew — no — your brothers behind like that. Might as well have killed all of us, Surge included.”

“Fuck Surge, stop talking about him like he matters. He’s just an old man with old dreams. Like I was ever anything but a disappointment to him. All he’s done is make my life shit.” He shakes the gun and pushes the tip of the barrel closer to me. “Bomb. Leave.” I stand my ground, and he throws his arm around and hits me in the face with the butt of his gun. I groan and push forward, knocking him down onto his ass. I raise my fist to pound his face in, but he shakes his head and jams the gun into my gut.

I raise my hands up and climb to my feet and step back slowly. For a moment, I almost feel sorry for him. When Surge told me he was disappointed in me, it cut me deep. Deeper than I’d ever been cut before. As I reach the bottom of the steps, I turn away and hurry back to my motorcycle, rounding the corner and dipping out of sight from Rifle. I start the bike up and coast into sight again, straining my eyes on Rifle. His gun is still trained on me, but his arm is slackened, his determination faded. I shake my head and ride away, blasting my engine harder than I have in a long time.

I don’t know what I expected. That he’d agree with me? He never liked me in the first place. I never liked him, either.

. . .

Rifle might know about Cassie being at the bar, but I doubt he’ll do anything about it. If he really wanted to get revenge on me for Rattlesnake, if he even knows about him, he would have done it right there. It’s been less than 24 hours since it happened, so he might not have found out yet. At least I didn’t spill my guts about that little fact.

I walk into the bar and find Cassie straddling a chair in reverse and facing the pool table. Each of the men have cards in their hands and she’s dealing them out.

“Poker?” I ask. The men nod, and Cassie smiles, still dealing cards out.

“I can’t believe you guys don’t ever play poker. Isn’t that like... what all biker gangs do?”

“I don’t know what clubs you’re talking about, lady,” Sword laughs. “Maybe some TV show?”

She blushes and looks up at me. She beams, but her smile fades and her face grows pale when she sees the huge bruise on my face.

“What the hell happened to you?”

“Long story. But we don’t have time for poker. We need to go back to my place.” The men look at me with disappointment.

“She can stay here longer, ya know,” Petrol says. “We just started this hand.”

“No. He’s right,” Surge says, his voice commanding over the others. “He needs to leave and so does she. I have a feeling...”

“What’s that?” I ask.

“You just saw Rifle, didn’t you?” He points at my face. “He punched you or something.”

“I needed to talk to him.”

“Did you leave him in a body bag?” Driver asks, sounding sincere.

I ignore his comment and look at Cassie. “We have to go.”

She nods and drops her cards on the table. The room is silent as she stands up, her chair scraping the floor as it moves a little. She pushes away from the table and grabs my arm as we walk back out of the bar.

“Wait, Bomb,” Surge calls after me. “Leave your vest.”

“No,” I answer. “I won’t. But don’t worry, I won’t let you guys get in any more trouble. This shit is between me and Skeletons after all...”

Surge doesn’t answer, and the front door creaks open as Cassie and I depart. I don’t know what else to say, but I need my vest. It’s important. When we reach my motorcycle, I stare at its painted gas tank for a while. Red and black, the same colors as my vest patches. After thinking for a few moments and letting the breeze cool my skin, I take off my vest and stuff it into one of my saddlebags.

“Why’d you do that?” Cassie’s voice is near me, but feels distant as I’m lost in my thoughts.

“To keep them safe.”

Without another word, we climb onto my bike and I start it up. Her hands are hot and that much closer to my skin without my vest in the way. Her body presses up against my warm back as we ride off, and I feel a bit of light seep into a day that only looks like it’s getting darker and darker.

––––––––

A
s we head back to Logan’s place, I’m feeling dizzy and lightheaded. My nerves feel like they’ve been at full tilt since he dragged me out of his apartment. His brothers seem like nice enough guys, but not strong enough to keep us safe from the impending doom of the other gang coming down on me and Logan for revenge.

Why me? I didn’t even do anything wrong... if anything, I helped, didn’t I? I put the president of the Ruin Outlaws club in the hospital. Shouldn’t the rival gang be on my side?

We pull up to his house and climb off his bike. He’s silent as he leads the away into his apartment, and I follow just as tight-lipped. Inside, he sits on the couch with a heavy sigh. I stand awkwardly at the front door. I feel homesick, and I miss Sara. Hell, of all the things, I miss my job and I even miss Becky ranting at me. At least she wasn’t dragging me into murder scenes.

“I don’t trust Surge.”

Logan snaps his eyes at me. “That’s a problem... Cassie, I need you to trust him. He’s like a brother to me.”

“Why should I?” I feel overwhelmed and stupid for even arguing with him. He’s part of their club too, but he’s... tainted, right? Like he sees me differently than they do. “They were nice to me but I just couldn’t relax the whole time I was there. Surge had his eye on me. Like he was studying me. I couldn’t get a read on that man.” It felt like he was constantly flipping between looking at me in disgust or admiration. What the fuck?

“That’s just how he is. That’s how he’s always been,” Logan says, as if that resolves it. It doesn’t.

I sigh and wander into the kitchen and feel Logan’s eyes follow me. I grab a glass from his cupboard and fill it with tap water, and drink the whole thing. My parched mouth doesn’t feel any better, and my anxiety is only getting worse. “It just all seems wrong. Why do we have to leave town? Why can’t you do something about the Skeletons? You...” I pause and hesitate to continue, but Logan’s frown only encourages me, “Took care of Rattlesnake easily enough.”

He stands up and pushes past me into the kitchen. He takes my empty glass off the counter and fills it with water and I watch him drink it. I can’t tell if he’s thinking about what I said, or just brushing me aside.

“It’s just the best thing for us now.”

I shake my head. “Are you going to ignore what I said?”

I hesitate. “Why do I have to go? This is about you isn’t it? Why does it involve me? Because Surge says so?”

“Cassie,” Logan says. His strong hands grip my shoulders and I can’t help but look at his tattoo sleeves. Covered in skulls and flying bats. Macabre. I guess I never really noticed the details before. “You don't know Surge like I do.”

I brush his hands off. “If I hadn’t gotten involved with you, they wouldn’t be trying to get to me. Why don’t you answer me? Your crew could take out theirs, right? Then we wouldn’t have to ditch town.”

“You think that would work?” He grins a little, almost playfully. He points at his swollen and bruised eye. “This is what happened when I tried to talk to a former club member. He had a gun, Cassie.” My hand goes to my mouth and I gasp involuntarily. He continues, “Besides, bodies make things more complicated than you probably think from watching all those TV shows.”

“I don’t watch that much TV...” I mutter.

After a moment, he reaches up and pulls my hand away from my mouth, weaving his fingers between mine as he does. His affection is sweet and unexpected, and my cheeks burn. I notice a thick patch of rough skin bulging on his hand and I pull his palm up close to my face to look. A ragged scar runs diagonally across his right palm and it looks deep. “What’s this?”

He doesn’t twitch. “Part of my initiation with the Ruin Outlaws. Before that, the Los Devils in California. We all have one.” I graze the scar with my finger, being careful not to apply too much pressure.

“I guess leather and bikes wasn’t the only thing tying you to them...”

His fingers move a little, and I feel a burst of warmth in my chest. His eyes meet mine, and I kiss him in an instant. Our lips explore each other, and I feel relief for the first time in days. His sticky body envelopes mine, and I want it all. I want him to take me, make me forget about everything that happened. To make the images of Rattlesnake lying on the floor of my apartment disappear. He reads my mind, knowing exactly what I want. Our feverish kisses fill the silent air.

Logan picks me up and sets me on the counter in the kitchen, and then he unbuckles my pants. With a quick yank, he pulls them down to my ankles and presses his warm body between my thighs. I moan into his ear, and his tattooed arms explore my body, groping my breasts and waist. He whispers my name, and I know everything is going to be okay.