Iron (6 page)

She is different. She’s fiery in a way no other woman I’ve ever been with is. She snaps back at me and calls me on my shit. I watch her as we pack to leave, and she’s folding clothes that I would have stuffed into bags without a second thought. I don’t want to say it, but I think she sees more to me than there really is. Can I be the hero she needs me to be?

I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. After we finish packing spare clothes and other things that my mind runs across, I grab the revolver off the counter and open the cabinet above the fridge to retrieve my pistol. I’ve only done a border crossing once before so I hope things haven’t changed much since then. I also had the advantage of having more men with me... but maybe looking like a romantic couple will work in my favor.

I catch Cassie’s eyes as I holster both guns and wrap them in a towel, before shoving them deep into one of the saddlebags. She doesn’t say a word about the weapons. At this point I don’t know what could phase her. She’s a lot tougher than she lets on, I think.

Thinking about that, I was sure I’d made her a mute after gutting Rattlesnake in her living room. She was so quiet on the ride home. I really didn’t want to have to do that in front of her, but what choice did he give me? I watch her as she finishes closing up one of the saddlebags. That fire fills her eyes, the same kind she had when I told her to trust Surge back at the bar. A severe look I noticed the first time I saw her, driving past her car that day.

I feel almost disconnected from whatever she must be experiencing. That kind of dark shit just doesn’t register with me anymore. The fucking shit I put up with when I first joined the crew in California should’ve been enough to send me running back to Washington. But it didn’t. I don’t know why. If anything, it made my connection to the club that much stronger, it made me stronger. Especially my loyalty to Surge. I never could let him down.

She’s never dealt with that. Never been told, ‘it’s okay to kill people,’ or even, ‘watch them die.’ Can I even say that now? Is it too late for her?

There'll be time for that, on our long sabbatical. I grab both saddlebags and hoist them onto my shoulders, balancing them with ease. She follows me outside to my bike and I strap the bags down. They’re bulging out, the money and clothes and guns don’t help. No kids are playing outside today. I suppose the gray and sick looking sky kept them inside for once. After I finish securing the bags, I turn back to the house and Cassie is right in front of me. I start the bike with a guttering growl.

“Where are we going... exactly?”

“I’ll tell you soon. Get ready to go. It’ll be a long trip.”

She doesn’t answer me. I watch her head back into the apartment, her hips and back looking delicious and sending hard vibrations through my core. That woman is a witch. She has some kind of stranglehold on me, and I won’t push her away again. After she disappears inside the front door, I sigh and stare up at the sky. I could really use a cigarette right now. I catch a glimmer of light out of the corner of my eye and turn to see a bike drifting behind a fence. My muscles tense and the hair stands up on the back of my neck. It was too quick to try and pin point what model it was, but I know it isn’t anyone from my club. Must be the Skeletons moving in on me. On us.

I want to run up and pull the biker off his bike and beat him to death for even coming near Cassie. To teach them that a threat against her is much worse than one against me. Wasn’t Rattlesnake enough?

I steel myself and breathe quietly. I’m stronger than them, so much stronger. I brush the thought away as Cassie touches my back. I turn to look at her and she gives me a sly grin. Her shirt is twisted into a knot and her delicious stomach is exposed. I whistle and grin and it makes her eyes sparkle. I lean closer to her and whisper in her ear, “Go back inside real quick.”

She pulls away and gives me a puzzled look, but I’m slate-faced. She nods and returns back to the apartment.

I leave my bike running and climb off it. As far as I can tell, the biker, whoever it is, doesn’t have direct eyesight on me. I dig open my saddlebags and retrieve a gun, hoping I don’t have to use it. After holstering it in the back of my pants, I start making my way to the sidewalk.

Before I round the corner, I retrieve the gun and ready myself. I step out and catch the biker off guard, his eyes fixed on the horizon, maybe watching the exit of the neighborhood. He’s fresh-faced and I only recognize him as belonging to the Skeletons from his cut. He must’ve been at the drug deal too, because he looks familiar. His eyes widen in shock as he sees my gun and he freezes up, before throwing his hands up. A phone’s screen is lit up in his left hand.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I say, my voice cold. He shakes his head and points to his phone. I keep my gun trained on him and extend my hand. “Give me that, now.”

I walk forward and he tosses it to me. I manage to catch it. As I grab a hold of the phone, he twists the throttle and his bike lurches toward me. I barely step away as his mirror slams my arm and I hear a distinct crack of cheap plastic. His bike leaves rubber on the road as he leaves the neighborhood. My arm aches like a son of a bitch, but I have his phone.

I hold it up and examine what he was doing. A text message from someone nicknamed Z. Telling him to keep an eye on me in case I’m up to anything funny. He was just about to reply that we were packing up. He’s probably heading back to tell Zero himself what happened, but I can at least slow him down. I delete the drafted message and replace it with one of my own: “nothing happening, they're watching tv or something.” I hit send and after it goes through, pull the battery and snap the phone in half.

When I round back around the bushes that line the corner of the sidewalk, Cassie comes out of the house, her worried look hitting me like a ton of bricks. I forgot I had a gun in my hand. I hide it between my arm and hunch over my bike again. I toss the gun in the saddlebag and feel Cassie hovering over me.

“What happened? I heard a bike and I thought —,”

“Thought I left without you?”

She nods meekly. I smirk and climb onto my motorcycle. “I wouldn’t betray you like that. I was handling some business.”

“Business?” she asks, but I pretend I can’t hear her over the roar of the engine.

“Let’s get going. We don’t have much time now.”

She climbs on my bike and scoots her hips close to me, digging her pelvis into me. She wraps her hands around my waist and tightens her grip against my body, and her breasts push against my back. I can feel her heart beating through my skin and I’m sure I can make it race.

I twist the throttle and let the bike’s roar carry through the neighborhood. Her heart beats faster and I take the bike off its stand and knock it into gear. With another twist of my wrist, her heart pounds against my chest as we slide out of the neighborhood and onto the main streets. The echoing of the engine off the other cars and street signs isn’t enough to drown out that pumping sensation against my back. I won’t let anyone stop that beating.

. . .

On the main road we weave between what feels like rush hour traffic. Where the hell are all these people going anyway? It isn’t that late in the day.

I have no idea where the Skeletons hide out is, outside that Tank told me they hang out in the west end of town. By the time that newbie gets back to Zero and informs him of the fake text, we should be so far out of town there’s no way they’ll be able to stop us.

I just hope they don’t end up putting pressure on the rest of the Ruin crew because of it. Cars are being lazy and dragging their tires and kids across the asphalt with such a slow crawl that I would die if I had to actually put up with it. I tap Cassie’s arm to make her hold me tighter and then I dip the bike between lanes, weaving between glaring red brake lights and honking horns as people flip us off. I don’t give a shit.

I’ve seen it all. The worst is when people go out of their way to try and get in my path. I’d literally make eye contact with them in their mirrors and then they’d go to open their door, like they’re trying to kill me. Those fuckers deserve a beating that’ll last a life time for that kind of shit. Motorcyclists put up with so much bullshit from the cagers.

Cassie’s cheek is turned and resting against my shoulder and I feel her grip squeeze me harder every time we dip between another pack of stopped cars. I knew the traffic would be bad, but it shouldn’t be long before it frees up and we can gun it down to the border. I won’t be able to pull off any fancy tricks at the fences, because I need my bike. If it goes anything like last time, I should be able to leverage some of my cash to get across the border. It’s people coming out of Mexico they’re worried about, isn’t it? It’s a couple hour drive down to the border to reach the town I want to hide out in, Nogales. I have some contacts there that might help. Well, hopefully I still do. It’s been a long time since I reached out to them.

If not, we’ll skirt around the fence and head back up into California. Anywhere that the Skeletons can’t follow or won’t follow, the better.

“Logan?”

I tilt my head just enough that her lips can tease my ears and I can hear her over the deafening wind and grumbling fury of the engine. The grayish clouds covering the sun move out of its way and the sunlight beats down on us like a beam of hot air. I’m almost glad I’m not wearing my leather vest, as it would do right now is make me sweat that much more.

Cassie licks her lips near my ear and speaks. “Are we going into Mexico?”

“I hope so.”

“What about...?”

“Don’t worry about it. You have a passport right?”

I feel her retreat back a little and rub her face on my shoulder. “No. I don’t. Even if I did, I wouldn’t have it on me! Was I supposed to know we were ditching town at my apartment the other night?”

Damn. That changes things a little. “I’ll handle it.” I clench my jaw and face forward again, letting the wind catch my face and cool the sweat off my brow. The guttural roar of the engine drowns out everything but Cassie’s contact with me and the feeling of my own heart throbbing in my ears.

I’m glad she fought to stay with me. If she had given up and rolled over, I would’ve left feeling different. I would have known that she wasn’t who I thought she was. Someone who fights for what she thinks she has to do, even if it’s stupid and bullheaded. Hell, that’s what I always did. It earned me a place in Surge’s motorcycle club. If I had acted on it about Rifle, we probably could have avoided this whole mess. If I had taken care of him that first day...

What made her special and worth hiding? I never hesitated to turn over information to my crew when I was in California, even when the people involved were gorgeous girls. That never earned me a lot of credibility though, I was just a tool. Useful, but easily replaced. After the drug deal went wrong and half the crew ended up behind bars, I realized I needed to do something more.

Surge was right when he told me to leave and join him in Arizona all those years ago. I resisted. I was younger and didn’t know what would happen. He was the one who struck his own path back then, and now with all this shit going down, I feel like I’m doing the same thing.

Soon, the traffic lightens up and we’re free from the torture. The highway narrows to two lanes and I manage to take a hold of one for myself. Cars always seem to steer clear of a motorcyclist, but I apparently lack some of my authority without my patches. After swerving to shake off any trailing tailgaters, I kick the bike into a low gear and take off to the maximum limit. I can be flagrant, but not too much. Getting pulled over with this much money, not to mention guns, would fuck everything up.

The sage spreading across the desert expands to the horizon, meeting the dusty and sweating red rocks that dot the landscape. They seem to defy nature, their thin bodies holding heads that are too large to even dream of. Like something I saw when I was dragged to a museum when I was a kid. Just strange creatures holding to the earth with their reddened toes.

I don’t know what Cassie sees out there. I glance over my shoulder to see what she’s doing and her gaze is fixed on the same horizon. Does she see the red desert as teeming with wildlife, or does she see nothing but death and emptiness? I kick the motorcycle into a cruising gear so the engine is quieter and try to talk to Cassie.

“What are you looking at?”

She seems a little embarrassed, since she retreats back in her seat and looks away. “Nothing.”

“Tell me.”

“Just the desert... the spires look crazy. I’ve never been out this far before.”

“Really?” The howl of the wind echoes. She nods and rubs her face on the back of my neck. “I thought you’d think it was ugly.”

“Do you think it’s ugly?” she asks.

I shake my head and then realize she might not notice the gesture. “No. I’m used to mountains up in Washington. These canyons are alien to me...” I pause and pull up to pass a lumbering RV that’s straddling the lanes. Must be drunk or something. “I think they’re unreal,” I add.

She laughs and strokes my arm. “I never thought you were a poet.”

“I’m not,” I say. I face forward again and feel my face burn a little, probably from the wind. No woman makes me feel like this. Like I’m a teenager again. I’m supposed to be a hardened biker, not a high schooler borrowing his parents’ car.

She hugs me again and I twist the throttle, the exhaust note hums and grumbles as we pick up speed. The dashed line between lanes blurs into a straight figure and the sage brush near the shoulder disappears. But the distant peaks and spires are almost motionless. Unaffected by anything I do. The sun has lowered in the sky and the black shadows are growing long with jagged edges. We didn’t leave that late did we?

I glance at my speed. I’m now just going above the speed limit. Was I going that slow just to talk with her? I take my left hand off the handlebar and stroke her thigh. She giggles in my ear, her laughter light and without the weight I expected it to have.

. . .

We approach the border as the day falls to a close. The couple of hours I estimated ran much longer, but I didn’t take the most efficient route either. I decide to pull to a side road and take a dirt path down along the border for a bit, looking for a way in through the fence that isn’t guarded. Toll roads were bad enough on the way down anyway... so much more exasperating for a motorcyclist.