Iron Goddess (11 page)

As Shea zigzagged down the switchbacks of Sycamore Mountain, the wind grew warmer until it became a blast furnace across her chest. The air in her helmet grew stuffy, but opening the face shield even a crack would only let in more heat. The increasing temperature intensified the throbbing in her leg into a steady drumbeat of pain.

When the hill leveled out, she turned right onto a side street. Homes nestled in the shade of twisted mesquites, sweet-smelling sycamores, and cottonwood trees that filled the air with fairy fluff. This wasn't like the pretty suburban neighborhoods down in Phoenix populated with carbon-copy houses, manicured shrubs, and yards covered with monochromatic crushed rock.

The rugged, untamed lots here each spanned a few acres, some dominated by horse corrals and the fragrance of manure. After a half mile, the road took a dogleg left, then paralleled a low ridge crested with boulders the size of automobiles.

Shea's house sat at the end of the lane. She pulled into one of the few paved driveways in the neighborhood and opened the garage with the remote in her jacket. The late-afternoon sunlight revealed her stable of a dozen custom motorcycles and cabinets full of tools. She parked in the one empty spot.

Her right knee refused to bend when she tried to dismount. Her arms strained to pull her body closer to the handlebars to get enough room to slide her foot around. The effort left her winded. While she caught her breath, Wendy parked her Mustang next to Jessica's car on the side of the house.

“Geez, got enough bikes?” Wendy locked up her car.

“What can I say? I like motorcycles.”

“Your garage is as big as the rest of the house.”

“I didn't need the third bedroom, so I knocked out the wall to make room for more bikes.”

Wendy's face darkened. “Hunter called.”

“What'd he say?”

“He's not sure he can come up with four million. He wants you to get the kidnapper to lower the ransom.”

“How much has he got?”

“Couple hundred grand.”

“Shit.” Her brain was a train wreck of ache, hunger, and exhaustion. Concentrating took more effort than she could spare. “Every time I tried to negotiate, he threatened to hurt Annie. Hunter's gotta come up with the money somehow.”

“What if he doesn't?” Wendy stared out at the horizon, arms wrapped around her like she was keeping something from escaping.

“We'll figure something out.” Shea hugged her for the first time in seventeen years. It felt strange, but comfortable. “We'll think better once we've had something to eat. Come on, let's see what Jess is cooking.”

Her home was a bit snug on the inside—two small bedrooms, a compact kitchen, and a living room with seating for five, if you didn't mind getting cozy. Shea'd ripped out the carpeting in the living room years earlier and replaced it with rugs on the bare slab. It helped keep the place cool and she could pull a bike inside if she needed to work on one of her bikes away from the summer heat.

As they walked in the door, the aroma of curry, meat, and onions filled the air. Jessica stood in the kitchen to their right. Meat sizzled in the wok on the stove.

“I hope no one's allergic to peanuts. I'm making Thai beef,” said Jessica over her shoulder.

“Sounds delicious, hon.” Shea led Wendy to the living room. Mismatched rugs covered the concrete slab. An oversized recliner sat at one end, next to a leather love seat, with a glass and brass coffee table in the middle. A projection TV occupied the far corner.

Wendy took the recliner, Shea's usual spot. Shea resisted the urge to say anything and instead plopped down on the love seat, resting her hurt leg on the coffee table.

“What's Thai beef?” whispered Wendy.

Shea shrugged. “Dunno, but Jess is a damn good cook.”

Moments later, Jessica handed Wendy and Shea warm plates covered with strips of beef swimming in a spicy brown sauce over rice.
“Bon appétit,”
she said.

Shea took a bite. Her mouth exploded with a combination of fiery chile paste, garlic, lime juice, and peanut. The beef melted on her tongue. She groaned with pleasure and for a moment forgot about the pain in her leg.

“Good?” Jess carried over a plate for herself, nestling next to Shea on the love seat.

Shea nodded, too focused on eating to speak. Not a grain of rice remained when she set the plate on the coffee table.

While her stomach was now full, the ache in her leg had grown worse. She could have used the pain pills the doctor had prescribed. She wondered if Wendy still had any of the Oxy Hunter had given her at the restaurant. She also wondered if maybe her sister had palmed the prescription when Shea wasn't looking.

She took a deep breath, grimacing as she pulled herself to her feet. If she couldn't have pain pills, there was always vodka.

Jessica looked up from her dinner. “You need something?”

“No, I got it. Butt's getting sore from sitting, anyways.” She limped to the kitchen and pulled a frost-covered bottle of vodka out of the freezer. The icy glass surface was so cold it made her hand ache holding it. “Anyone else want some?”

Wendy's hand shot up like the teacher's pet. Shea frowned, not surprised in the least.

“Jessica?” She held up the bottle.

“No thanks.”

She poured three fingers' worth into a glass for herself, and two fingers for Wendy. With the bottle tucked under one arm and a glass in each hand, she returned to the love seat, careful not to spill any of the precious liquid.

“How long you two been together?” Wendy asked as Shea's cat, Ninja, crept out of the bedroom to investigate the strange human who'd invaded her house. Wendy reached out to pet her, but the cat scampered away. “Fraidy cat!”

Shea looked at Jessica. “What, about three months now?”

“Closer to four, I think.”

“And already living together?” Wendy asked with an air of mock judgment. “How scandalous.”

“I recently moved up from the Valley,” said Jessica, referring to Phoenix. “I'm hoping to find a place of my own soon. They opened some cute condos up in Ironwood near the university.”

Shea rolled her eyes. “I keep telling ya you're welcome to move the rest of your stuff in here. I'll make room.”

Jess made a face. “I'd prefer something a little less industrial. It's like living in an oversized storage unit.”

“I thought you yuppie types were into that whole reclaimed, urban-industrial style,” said Wendy.

Shea threw a cat toy at Wendy. “Don't be starting nothing.”

“Geez, I'm teasing.” She looked at Jessica. “I'm teasing. Really.”

Jessica took a sip of Shea's vodka, made a face, and walked to the kitchen. “I don't know how y'all drink that stuff.”

Shea emptied her glass and poured herself another three fingers. Wendy stuck out her glass. Shea gave her a shot's worth. Her sister made a face and Shea added a little more.

Jessica fixed herself a glass of wine from the fridge and sat back down. “How did you meet your husband, Wendy?”

“He was a prospect for the club when we met. I thought he was cute. He made me smile.”

“What's a prospect?” Jessica asked.

“Prospective member,” Shea said.

“Oh, like a pledge to a fraternity.”

Wendy laughed and choked on her vodka. “Only not as dorky.”

“Hey, my brother's in a fraternity.” Jessica crossed her arms, frowning.

“Then I guess you know. Pretty little frat boys with their dorky polo shirts and penny loafers and Daddy's gold card. Bunch a pansy-ass dicks, if ya ask me. Bikers ain't like that, not even the prospects.”

Jessica's eyes narrowed. “No, of course not. Bikers wear stupid little leather vests, nasty-ass beards, and chains on their wallets.” Venom poisoned her tone.

“Like you would know, bitch.”

“More than you, you backwoods redneck.” Jessica stood up, as if poised for a fight.

Shea made a T with her hands. “Yo! Time out, ladies. No fighting while I'm injured.”

“Whatever.” Jessica slammed her glass onto the coffee table and stormed to their bedroom, closing the door behind her.

Part of Shea wanted to chase after Jessica and apologize for her sister's rude remarks. She settled for glaring at Wendy.

“What's her problem?” Wendy asked, as if nothing had happened.

“Listen, I don't mind you staying here, but don't piss off my girlfriend.”

“Sor-ry!” She held up her hands to emphasize her fake apology. “Didn't know y'all were so touchy.”

The vodka was settling into Shea's brain, taking the edge off the pain. Her mind drifted to other subjects. “If Annie's eight years old…”

“I got pregnant when I was fifteen.” Wendy blushed and stared at the dark screen on the TV.

“How old was Hunter?”

“Nineteen.”

“Nineteen? That's statutory rape.”

“I know. Monster wanted to kill him when he found out, but I told him we were in love. So the Thunder threw us a big-ass, leather-and-lace biker wedding.” She poured herself another glass of vodka. “God, that was beautiful.”

“How'd Mr. Wonderful turn into such a psycho?”

“When Hunter became the club's sergeant-at-arms, he got more secretive. I mean, I know he can't always share about club stuff, but it got to the point we didn't have shit to talk about. Sometimes I didn't see him for days.”

“Sounds like Ralph.”

“You know what they say, girls marry their fathers,” said Wendy.

Shea shook her head. “Not this girl.”

Wendy turned to her, all humor gone. “No, you just stole cars for a living. Big-time felon, just like Daddy.”

“Fuck you, Wendy. I am nothing like that murderous son of a bitch. All I did was boost a few cars to survive.” Shea felt like punching her, or at least kicking her out of her house. But she needed to see this through. For Annie and for Derek.

“You coulda lived with us, had a normal life instead of living on the streets.”

“If growing up with those bigoted motherfuckers is your idea of normal, I'm glad I missed out.”

“Monster and Julia were good godparents.”

“I seen what the club does to people. What it did to Mama.”

“You coulda at least stayed in touch.”

“After what you said at Ralph's trial, I didn't want nothin' to do with you or the club.”

Wendy's brow crinkled. “What the hell you talking about?”

“Don't deny it, Wendy. I was in the courtroom. I heard you.”

“I never testified at Daddy's trial.”

“I remember seeing you.”

“It wasn't me you remember.”

A wave of nausea swept over Shea.
Must be the vodka,
she thought. A dark memory threatened to bubble to the surface. “What're you talking about?” Her voice cracked with nervousness.

Wendy took Shea's hand as if she were a child. “It's okay. I mighta done the same thing on the stand. We'd already lost Mama. We were scared of losing Daddy, too. And you two were so close before.”

“You saying
I
testified that Ralph acted in self-defense? You're off your rocker. I'd sooner die than protect that piece of shit.” Shea turned away from her, downed what remained in her glass, and poured herself another.

“Shea, it don't matter. Daddy went to prison. And we both turned out okay, more or less.”

Shea stood up. Her head swam and she fell back onto the love seat. Fire rippled up her leg. “Fuck!”

It took a moment for her to catch her breath and get control of the pain. Her pulse pounded in her ears like a bass drum. “You're fulla shit, you know that? Why would I care about losing the club? They're a bunch of violent, racist assholes who treat women like shit. They weren't my family. I got a family of my own.”

“Who? Your cat?”

“Jessica, for one. And the people I work with. These people respect me and I respect them.”

“The club takes care of its own.”

Shea grabbed her sister's chin and turned her face from one side to the other. “I can see from the bruises on your face how well they take care of you. Same way they took care of Mama. How many times did Ralph beat the shit out of her? And no one did a damn thing. Real families don't do that shit to each other.”

Wendy twisted her face out of Shea's hand. “I tried to get out and look what happened.”

Shea stumbled to the kitchen and put her glass in the sink. The vodka was kicking in strong, but it couldn't stop the dread creeping in from the past.

Maybe Wendy was right. Maybe if her sister could get away from the Thunder, she could turn her shit around, too. Be a decent mother to Annie.

“Whatever's past is past,” said Shea. “I'm willing to let it go. If we get Annie back—
when
we get Annie back—if you still want to get away from Hunter and them, I'll help. Might even find a job for you at Iron Goddess.”

Wendy sighed. “Yeah, I'll think about it. Thanks.”

“Until then, you can crash in the spare bedroom.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” Shea sighed. “I gotta hit the hay.” She limped toward the main bedroom.

“Hey, Shea, 'member that time we all went tubing down the Salt River?”

“Shit, hadn't thought about that in years.” She'd forgotten almost everything about life before Mama died. “We got caught in that dust storm.”

“Everything turned all orangey brown,” said Wendy. “We couldn't see where the river was taking us. It felt like drifting through a fog.”

The memories wriggled to the surface like earthworms in a rainstorm. “Mama insisted we get out when it started thundering. So we piled into a rusted-out horse trailer till the storm passed.”

Wendy giggled the way she did as a child. “God, did that stink!”

“When we got in the car to go home, Daddy told Mama to drive because he'd left his license at home.”

“And Mom told him no 'cause she'd had too much to drink.”

“But he made her do it anyway, said if she ran off the road and killed us all it'd serve her right for drinking so much.”

Wendy's smile evaporated. “He was a real bastard, wasn't he?”

“Yeah, I hope someone made him their prison bitch. Serve him right.”

Wendy's phone rang. She looked at it, then held it out to Shea, her forehead creased with worry. “I think it's him. The kidnapper.”

Shea took it from her. “Hello?”

“You got my four million dollars, Che?”

“I talked to Annie's father. He don't have four million dollars. The club don't neither. Best we can do is a couple hundred thousand.”

His laugh sent chills down her spine. “
Puta,
I show you what two hundred grand get you.” A child screamed an instant before the line went dead. Shea's knees weakened.

“What'd he say?”

“We gotta find a way to come up with four million dollars. Anything less than that and he's gonna hurt her.”
If he hasn't already.

“What are we gonna do, Shea? I can't let them kill my baby.” Wendy buried her face in her arms, sobbing.

Shea shook her head. “We'll call Hunter tomorrow and figure something out. In the meantime we need to get some sleep.”

“How'm I supposed to sleep when that monster has my child?”

Shea wrapped her arms around her sister, feeling her body quake with fear, anger, and anguish. “Just do the best you can. That's all any of us can do.”