Page 57 of Chaos & Carnage
Cade waited out in the street for me, his head snapping up the moment the red door of our flat screeched open. And for a while he just stared, his eyes searching, his head moving as he scanned every inch of me, and I watched a lock of hair flop loosely over his forehead.
“Fuck me sideways, kitten. You look stunning.”
I smiled, and he reciprocated. A small one. But he looked tense, the muscle in the side of his neck tight.
“Come on. Put this on. It’ll mess your hair up, but I’m going to be doing that later, anyway.”
And now he smiled. That huge wide grin I was used to, green eyes animated once more, half filled with mischief, half with the promise of darkness.
The ride wasn’t long. Fifteen minutes weaving in and out of traffic. But the air was icy as it crept under my helmet, nipping at the very end of my fingers and crawling under the little black jacket I wore. My leather was clearly thinner than Cade’s, because he seemed totally unaffected by the freezing night air, whereas I was sure I was shaking more than the Harley itself. Twice Cade reached back and squeezed my thigh, probably checking I was still there and hadn’t bailed out half-way. But I was there, clinging to him like a monkey, my arms squeezing his waist and my head glued to his back.
Cade rode fast, the bike roaring underneath us, and I could feel every single vibration inside of me. The wind whipped my face, strands of hair swirling around inside the helmet, even with the visor down. I’d tucked my hair up inside the helmet as Cade suggested, but I was sure that when I took it off, I was going to look like a bewildered scarecrow after surviving a tornado.
But finally, we pulled off the dual carriageway and down the side of an industrial estate. The warehouses and pointed steel fenced compounds thinned, and all was left was a badly looked after road, lined with overgrown trees and bushes. At the very end, as we followed the River Tyne up stream again, a building came into view, every light in its windows lit up, like no one had to worry about paying the electric bill.
Cade slowed, the roar of the motorbike changing to a rumble, deep guttural vibrations as the rhythm of the engine changed. The pub sat by itself, overlooking the river, its view obscured by the leafless arms of trees that had slid down the riverbank. I glanced at the signage as the motorbike glided past.Dog on the Tyne. A play on words from a song by my mother’s favourite band, Lindisfarne. She would approve. Of the pub at least. Maybe not of what might wait for me inside.
Cade pulled around the corner, to a patch of broken tarmac covered in motorbikes. I counted at least fifteen. All Harleys. Every single one. A light shone over the top of them, unusually bright compared to the dull lights over the pub’s entrance. But at the very top was a cluster of cameras, all pointing out in different directions, multiple red dots from multiple devices.
The bike suddenly lurched sideways, the movement catching me by surprise, and I grabbed at Cade, my legs suddenly trembling.
“It’s ok, Alice. You’ll not fall,” he coaxed, pushing the visor of his helmet up.
Sliding off in front of me, he turned, offered me a gloved hand, and guided me off the bike like I was dismounting a horse. A knight in leather.
“Come on.” Cade pulled his hands free from the leather gloves, icy fingers brushing under my neck, fiddling with the strap of my helmet and easing it off carefully over my head.
My hair fell out from underneath, dropping around my shoulders, the waves I’d styled it into almost all gone as the wind from the ride over had bashed the style out of it. Yet Cade still stood in front of me, watching, his smile fading, something serious creeping across his face.
“Come on,” he said again, gripping one stiff hand with his, and leading me towards the entrance to the pub.
The music bounced out of the doors before they had even opened. A thick, heavy beat. A chatter of voices. Of deep tones and shouts, all mingling into the smoky atmosphere. Heat hit me as we pushed through the doors, like we’d just walked into an oven. My eyes struggled to adjust, the darkness broken by the sweep of lights and then the plunge of darkness again. I saw faces, but nothing tangible, no features I could focus on as the huge disco ball above us scattered light everywhere.
And then I saw him. He turned from the bar. Eyes locking with mine, an odd recognition flickering across his face as he looked at me. A few metres out. But there was no mistaking what I saw. I looked from him and then to Cade, and back to the man at the bar. A man I recognised. The man who was a complete carbon copy of his brother, like we were staring into a mirror.
He moved forward with determined strides, the recognition on his face changing to shock, and then to anger, his brows furrowing. And now he was upon us. Big, long, purposeful steps. I think he might have growled, his face contorting, stepping around me and then launching himself through the air. I squeezed my eyes shut, unable to think, or move, or run. But he didn’t connect with me, his body grazing mine as he rushed past. Behind me, I heard a thud and a groan. In front of me, the rest of the bar erupted, stools pushed over, bodies moving from the front of me, from the side of me. The pub descended into madness, chaos all around me, and I watched on, stuck in a whirlwind of slow motion.
Chapter Twenty One
I sat at the bar, my back to the door. Magnet on one side of me and Fury on the other.
“Jazz has bought another motorbike,” Fury grumbled, pulling out his phone and thumbing through some pictures in there.
“Another bike?”
“Yeah.”
He settled on something, pushing the phone towards us, where his sister stood to the side of a Suzuki Hayabusa. All thirteen hundred cc of engine power.
“That’s a big fucking bike,” Magnet chuckled, taking a mouthful of his beer.
“What’s she got a Busa for?”
“And how’s she fucking paid for that?” Magnet asked.
Fury sighed, taking a mouthful of his pint before continuing. “She’s working atTrouble.”
I lifted my eyebrows. “Bar or stage?”