My beat-up car is waiting for me in the drive, courtesy of Holly and Cruz, who drove it here in the early morning. I figure it will be better to arrive in reliable if battered transportation than on a bike. The judge doesn't need to know just how closely I'm tied to an MC gang. I watch Ryker in the rearview mirror until he disappears from sight. My chest tightens the moment that he's gone, worry clouding my mind like a thick fog.
There's no way Trent could take Bryan away from me, is there? Not legally.
I'm so absorbed in my thoughts that I don't notice the line of bikes blocking the end of Crescent street until it's almost too late. I slam down hard on the brake, the wheels squealing in protest at my sudden deceleration. I stop just inches shy of the Harley Road King and the figure astride it. When I recognize the grizzled visage, my heart freezes in my chest. Panic rises to choke me.
Trent and a line of others block the passage in and out of this street. I'm surrounded. My spirits sink when I realize what a fool I've been. Did I really expect Trent to let me duke things out in a court of law? He's already tried to kill me once. And now he's trying again, this time with a more reliable weapon strapped in a holster at his back.
He reaches for the gun and I barely have time to duck before the first shot cracks my windshield. A rain of glass slices at any patch of exposed flesh. I'm bloody by the time the deadly hail stops. With slick fingers I try to push open the side door. Brenda is already waiting for me when I tumble out onto the soaked pavement. She grabs a handful of my hair and tugs me painfully to my feet. I want to scream, but know already just what a futile move it is. The side street that runs along Crescent is dark and abandoned. There's a reason that the Spades always dragged traitors and cheats out to this place. There was no one around to hear you scream.
Brenda hauls me to that dark, narrow corridor between buildings. I'm gratified to see that two spectacular bruises have formed beneath her eyes. I must have gotten luckier than I thought and broken her nose with my clumsy punch.
"Time for payback, you little bitch," she snarls. She withdraws another blade, this one longer and sharper than the first. "Trent says that I can take my time with you, nice and slow. Just so long as you miss your hearing."
Maybe I should be relieved that they don't want me dead--yet. But my stomach still sloshes, trying to expel the waffles Ryker had prepared for breakfast. I'm not likely to come away from this without pain. And even if I somehow escaped, I'm still in danger of being held in contempt of court.
She draws the blade along my jawline in a steel caress. "Let's start with those pretty little lips of yours. I don't think you'll be needing them once I'm through with you."
I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing for pain that doesn't come. Instead, my attention is drawn by the roar of an engine and the angry shouts of Trent's men. When my eyes fly open again, I only have the vague impression of an Iron 883 and the man astride it. Ryker must have followed me at a distance. I'm grateful that he's being an overprotective bear. It might just save my life.
The bike knocks into Brenda, sending her sprawling. It probably broke her legs, but I'm far beyond caring at this point. It comes to an abrupt halt before me, and I'm scrambling onto the back of the seat before I can think. Another shot is loosed in our direction and hits the brick inches above our head.
"They're going to kill us," I say, voice near a shriek.
"Not if I have anything to say about it," Ryker snarls.
The bike picks up speed again and Ryker maneuvers through a break in the line to speed back up to Pine street. We can't return to my home or his without drawing fire onto Holly, Cruz, and Bryan. If any of them gets hurt, I'll never forgive myself.
"They're not going to stop and there are too many of them," I whimper as we whip past the gray scenery. This is a direction I've never been. It rides the line dangerously close to the divide that separates the Spades from the Calamity Kings.
"Then we'll have to go where they won't," he says grimly. He puts on another burst of speed and I realize with horror just what he's about to do.
The bike leaps over the invisible demarcation line that separates the two MCs. The line that keeps us from constantly warring with each other. Ryker's bike roars down Ash street and straight into King territory.
We've just entered a war zone.
12
Ryker
Shit, shit, shit. What the hell did you just do?
Everything inside me says this is a bad idea. Hell, Iknowthis is a bad idea. This is the Calamity Kings’ territory. They have hammered it into me since I was a snot-nosed teen. Don't go there. Don't you dare cross the line. Stay on your own side. Cruz will kill me when he finds out.Ifhe finds out. Cleo and I might disappear off the face of the earth if I'm not on my guard.
The Kings are just as likely to kill us, if not more so. But if it's the chance between immediate and certain death versus the potential for it, I'll take the slim chance we'll make it out alive. Trent is gunning for Cleo, whereas I'll be the King's greatest concern.
Cleo is an attractive woman with no Spade loyalty inked into her skin. Her chance of coming away from this unscathed is much better than mine. I'll take whatever price for this respite, even if it comes out of my hide. Maybe it will give Cruz enough time to mount an offensive against Trent.
Cleo's breath heaves against my back, and I wonder if she's crying or hyperventilating. Maybe it’s both. I can't hear her over the growl of the bike beneath me and the screaming wind in my ears.
The scenery that flashes by is unfamiliar. True, it's still South Hollens, so the buildings are drab and in disrepair. Most are sagging after years of being pummeled by the rain. From the brief glances I get in my periphery, this side of town seems even grungier than ours. The people here walk with hunched shoulders and barely look up as we rocket past. Some even cringe into the side of buildings as the bike rockets past. I wonder just what the Kings are doing to make them so edgy.
But we can't be inconspicuous. I'm astride a Harley, a brand the Kings don't favor. They're an eclectic bunch, but only one of the Kings rides a Harley, and that's their leader, Calamity Gardel. The man is a mean motherfucker, and it's clear to anyone with eyes that I'm not him.
Sure enough, we're barely six miles into King territory before I spot a Ducati Scrambler on our tail. And despite the seriousness of the situation, my stomach clenches with an echo of anger. The only way these show-offs can afford the stinking things is because they peddle misery everywhere they go. In Spade territory, drug dealers are quickly run off and while we didn't exactly discourage prostitution, we at least didn't allow pimps inside our zone. A working girl was safe at any Spade establishment.
Gardel runs this place like a mob boss. The structure is rigid, violent, and everyone had to pay fealty, even the citizens unfortunate enough to live there.
No one will help us here. Gardel pays off the police to turn a blind eye to his goings on. No one here got help unless Gardel was merciful enough to grant it. And drawing mercy from Gardel is less likely than drawing blood from a stone. I once again wonder just what madness made me come here.
