Iron (7 page)

Cassie leans with me as we turn and dodge giant rocks that litter the excuse for a graveled path. I pull up off the dirt road and behind some brush, and shut my motorcycle down. I twist in my seat and undo a saddlebag, and retrieve some cash from the stacks. I still can’t believe Surge let me hold onto this for safekeeping. I should have left it back home, I didn’t need all of it. So much for being discreet.

I close the saddlebag and Cassie pokes me. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to bribe an agent to let us through.”

I expect her to be surprised, but she isn’t. She simply frowns. “What? You have a better idea?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “Won’t that just cause more trouble?”

“Trust me. Half of these guys are crooks anyway. And we’re going into Mexico. We won’t be hassled.”

Cassie shrugs and blows air out of her mouth. I smirk and lean forward again to slip the money into my back pocket. A grand should be enough to persuade anyone to let us cross. I can’t imagine it not being enough.

Just as I start up my motorcycle again, some high beams kick on from a dark hiding spot near the fence, hidden from the long shadows of the setting sun. The lights point directly at us. I shield my eyes and the car’s engine starts up. It lumbers up near us. The man driving the car rolls down his window and hangs his elbow out the window. I didn’t see him at all a minute ago. Did he just show up? The driver is alone, but in a clearly marked white border patrol vehicle. His stetson is nearly touching the top of his cabin. He clicks his tongue against his teeth and shakes his head.

“What are you two doing out here? Getting awfully late to be switching countries.”

Cassie pinches my ribs and I get her signal. I didn’t plan this, Jesus. I nod to the agent and clear my throat.

“It’s only past sunset,” I try to joke. “Who says we’re crossing the border?” I try to remember what Surge told the agents a couple years ago... something I should say. “We’re just taking the scenic route.”

“Hmm,” the agent says. He licks his lips and looks down at his dash, like he’s searching for something. He leans back out the window and tries to lower himself to my level. “Should I search your bags?”

I must’ve said the right thing, not to mention lucked out with the right agent. Surge did say something about the patrol agents further from the actual crossings were more bored and willing to give in easier. I slowly shake my head. “No.”

“Very good,” he finally retrieves a clipboard with a stack of papers on it. He scribbles on it for a few minutes, tapping the pen against the wood and metal clip occasionally. I can feel Cassie’s tension rising and I wish I could turn and explain to her what’s happening. It’s pretty obvious to me, at least.

“Looks like you two are good to go,” he says. He unclips the piece of paper and starts to hand it off to me. As I reach for it, he yanks it back away. “Come now, we both know you’re holding out on me.”

I sit forward for a second and grab the cash from my pocket. He grins and we trade off paper for cotton and I fold it carefully and hand it off to Cassie. “That should get you in,” the man says. “Or out, I suppose.”

His eyes move from mine to Cassie and then he licks his lips again. He nudges his car into reverse and backs up against the fence again, before shutting his headlights off. I pat Cassie’s thigh and turn my engine over. After idling for a few seconds, I break the back tire loose on the dirt path and turn back toward the border crossing.

Only a little further now until we’ll be out of the Skeletons radar. It can’t extend this far, can it? We went out of our way to not go directly into Nogales, so we’ll have a little detour on the way over from our gate.

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I
can’t believe Logan bribed a border patrol agent. I was sweating bullets the whole time and he made it look like he was buying some gum at the grocery store. I grip him tighter as we jump back onto the paved road and head toward a border crossing. My heart is pounding in my ears like a drum, and I can’t stop curling my toes inside my shoes. Even after all the shit over the last couple of days, I’ve never been more scared than I am in this moment.

The border control looks like a toll road more than anything. Logan quiets his motorcycle and glides up to the first window, and I try and hide my face behind his shoulder. He twitches a little. As he comes to a stop, he releases his hand from the throttle and strokes my thigh, reassuring me just out of sight of the agent.

The agent herself looks a bit bored. She gazes at both of us like we’re a couple of elopers, and sighs as she asks the question I’m sure she’s asked a million times today. “Papers?”

Logan produces the signed form that the crooked agent handed him. She passes it under the window and stares at it, scrutinizing it as carefully as a scientist might examine a fossil. She frowns as she goes over it with her pen and lets out a heavy sigh.

I freeze up, We’re busted. Something’s wrong, I just know it. Logan senses my tension and gives my thigh a squeeze to try and calm me down, but it’s barely any good. I dart around and try to see if there are any agents coming out of the shadows, ready to swarm and drag us to prison. God knows she’s gonna want to check our bags too... Right? How does this even work?

After a few breathtaking moments, she pulls out a stamp pad and presses it firmly against the paper Logan handed her. She sends it back to him through her porthole and guides us along our way.

“Welcome to Mexico,” she says dryly. A green light appears in front of us, and we’re allowed passage.

He toes his bike back into gear and we pass through the gate into Mexico. I’ve never even been outside of Arizona before, let alone the United States. It doesn’t feel as different as I thought it would.

More desert greets us on the other side. As we pull further away from the border, Logan ramps up his speed until I’m sure we’re breaking all sorts of laws. I glance over his shoulder and take a peek at his speedometer: well over 100 mph. I instinctively grip him tighter and try to hold on, cowering behind his back to keep the wind from beating at my face. It’s gotten chilly as the sun has set. Not like earlier when it was refreshing in the face of 100 degree heat. A dry heat.

I rest my forehead against his back and arch my back out. I can feel his gentle breathing, despite the terrific speed. He’s calm. Collected. Not scared. I can’t believe it.

I wish I could climb over onto his lap and fuck him this instant. That I could take him while we ride along the Mexican desert. The idea alone sends tingles up my spine and around my thighs. I bite my lip and try to control myself. This isn’t the time to be dreaming up toe-curling ideas. I dig my hips closer to him and grind a little, hoping he might get the message. He smirks and glances over his shoulder at me, before running his hand up my thigh and between my legs for a brief taste.

Dusk has set in complete with a dim glow on the horizon. I can only imagine that’s where we are headed. It’s difficult to talk over the roar of the engine and the wind, and I’m content to just hang on for the ride. I fought off exhaustion long ago and my second wind has already caught up with me. Even so, I can’t wait to crawl into bed.

If there are beds. I don’t know what to expect. I can expect one thing though. I run my hands over Logan’s body and massage his shoulders for a brief moment. I’ll get to sleep in the same bed as my outlaw for once.

I won’t let him avoid it by trying to cling to the floor again. Enough chivalry. I’m done with it. I need him to dominate me.

. . .

Another ten minutes of riding and we’re engulfed in the city of Nogales. The city’s lights made it look a lot larger than it is, but it’s nothing but a campsite compared to Phoenix. Logan revs his engine and slows as we enter the main city street. He cocks his head and we enter an alleyway off the main road, and I brace myself for the worst.

Now that the wind has died down and his motorcycle is quieter, I feel like I can talk to him. “What’s this place?”

“A place I know that’ll take us in. I had to hide out here once a couple of years ago.”

“Really?” I ask, but he doesn’t answer. He guides his motorcycle up behind a dumpster hidden in a back corner of the alley. He drops his feet down and walks it into the makeshift parking space, before throttling it one last time and shutting it off. A metal door with graffiti on it is the only entryway on the building. The other building is nothing but brickwork all the way back to the street. Logan hops off his motorcycle, heaving a leg over and being careful to not knock me out of my seat. He goes to the back of the bike and unhooks the saddlebags, hoisting them onto his shoulders again.

I follow him and an ache swells in my legs. I didn’t realize how rough sitting on the back of a bike was. I hobble up to Logan as he approaches the graffitied door, and he waits for me to catch up. I straighten myself out after he gives me a funny look, and try to look presentable. I don’t know who we’re meeting, or really, anything anymore. I’m just strung along like a fish on a hook. I watch him as he knocks on the door. He’s got his hook dug in me real deep.

We wait a few moments and he knocks again. A buzzing noise catches my attention from the street and I stare down the alleyway, just as the door opens for us. Logan grabs my hand and drags me inside with him, and I almost stumble backwards over the threshold.

The hallway just inside the door is plain if not a bit worn and old. The wallpaper is torn on one wall, and looks like it’s from the seventies anyway. A stairway extends up on one wall, and two wings are split from each side of the door. It’s almost like an entire house inside what looks like a brick commercial property.

A grim looking hispanic man is standing at the foot of some stairs in front of us. Logan looks glad to see him.

“It’s about time, Damian,” he says. Damian’s eyes go from Logan to me, and I freeze up in response. He cracks a smile and extends his hand to shake mine. Logan introduces me: “This is Cassie.”

After making introductions, Logan gets right down to business. “We need to crash here for a while, is that okay?”

“Sure, sure, I’m surprised is all. You know you can call,” Damian says, looking past Logan’s shoulder at the closed door behind us. “How long? It won’t be cheap.”

Logan grins a little and smacks Damian on the shoulder. “Come on, I know you owe me one after the last time. You practically begged me not to leave...”

Damian chuckles and shrugs. He holds up his hands in defeat, “All right, all right, but I really can’t keep you here for that long.”

Logan curses and nods. Damian waves his hand and starts ascending the steps. Each piece of wood creaks and whines under the load, and Logan grabs the saddlebags and throws them onto his shoulders. He follows up behind Damian, and I grasp the railing and make my way up the old staircase.

Damian presents a worn but comfortable room for us. A single large bed is pushed up against a wall and a small window looks out over the street. Cars whiz by and horns honk, but it’s nothing like Phoenix. Almost too silent in comparison. Logan drops our bags on the floor next to the bed and then talks to Damian a bit more. I try to listen, except I’m so exhausted I can’t bear the effort. I slip past them unnoticed and climb onto the bed. Its frame squeaks with every movement and once I reach the pillow, I collapse face-down into it. I can hear them murmuring, but the only thing on my mind is how unbelievably tired I am. I guess I’ve never taken any road trips anywhere, let alone sat on the back of a vibrating bike for so many hours. I exhale deeply and the world fades away from my senses. Within a few moments, I’m dead asleep.

. . .

I wake up early in the morning, which I can only tell because of the blue sunlight creeping in through the open window. It’s humid and the sheets have been pulled down to only cover my legs. Logan’s arm is around my shoulder and his breathing is gentle and constant against the back of my neck. I snuggle closer against his body and he responds by pulling me closer, until his bare chest is touching my back. A shiver runs through me and I giggle a little bit. Even with all this madness surrounding us, I savor the joy he brings me.

He smacks his lips a couple of times and whispers something. I lean a bit and try to look over my shoulder at him. His eyes are still closed shut, and after I shift, he repeats: “Cassie...”

I grind my hips against him and test his resolve. He grumbles and chuckles in my ear, still keeping his eyes closed. He squeezes me against his growing erection and gropes my breasts. I giggle, but am too tired to do anything more.

I stroke his arm a couple of times, until his breathing changes and I know he’s asleep. It’s still dim enough in the room that I don’t have to stay awake, not really. Having Logan wrapped around me makes it an easy choice. After rearranging my pillow, I doze back asleep, sunny thoughts on my mind.

. . .

The lack of cars driving by and horns honking is what finally wakes me up. Yellow light hits my face and tickles my nose, and I distract myself by looking away so I don’t sneeze. Logan is up and wandering around the room when I finally sit up. He immediately looks at me and gives me a grin.

“Morning sleepy-head,” he says.

I shake my head and laugh. “What? Sleepy-head? Who says that?”

He smiles. “Get up,” he says. “Let’s go eat.”

I climb out of the bed and dig around in the bags he brought up last night, something light and clean to wear should be good enough. Maybe a dress? He’s so casual, like we’re not literally on the run.

. . .

After getting dressed we descend the stairs and exit into the alleyway again. Logan is carrying the saddlebags, having dropped the duffel off inside our room. Last night, in my exhaustion, I could barely make out anything along the buildings. With the light of day illuminating everything, I can see how run down the city is. No sign marks the door we just left, and an overfilled dumpster lines the left wall. While I’m gawking at everything, I notice Logan settling the saddlebags back onto his motorcycle. The ground is damp and murky, but the alleyway is short enough that it isn’t anything to freak out about.