Page 88 of Chaos & Carnage

“Because we need to get Magnet’s bike home, and I need Fury not worrying about his missus. Safest place for Heidi is with Jake. He knows what will happen if he fucks up.”

Indie turn to Jake now, his expression morphing into unfathomable darkness. “You double cross me. I’ll sell you out. Understood?”

Sergeant Gray nodded, solemn and serious.

Indie turned back to the bikers he stood in front of. They watched him reverently, like he was leading them into battle. Then he nodded, and suddenly everyone turned, climbing onto bikes.

“You ready, kitten?” Caleb asked, patting the seat behind him.

I turned the black helmet over in my hands, glancing back at the tent we left behind.

“What is it, Alice?” Caleb pulled his helmet onto his head, and now all I could see were two green eyes, and the eyebrows that pulled together, the rest of the frown lost under the black lid.

“I’m frightened.”

“I’ll keep you safe, kitten. I promise. We’re in the safest part of the ride.”

“But Cade isn’t.” I glanced at the man pulling the last glove onto his hand, already clad head to toe in leather with the Kings’ emblem on his back.

He looked at me then, and he might have smiled, but I couldn’t really see. Then he glanced at his brother, tipped his head sideways and pulled the visor down over his face. I stood staring. Unable to move. I didn’t know what would happen if the Bloody Hand caught us. I didn’t think I really cared. Cade cocked his leg over the bike, kicking up the stand and setting it into the middle.

“Come on, Alice. We need to go,” Caleb urged.

I looked once more; at the man I might never see ever again. My stomach jolted, bile rushing to the back of my throat and fire prickling at the back of my eyes. I pushed my leg over the back of Caleb’s bike and wrapped my arms around his waist. The last stab of cold went through me, a shiver hitting my body hard. Caleb patted my leg reassuringly. Then at the front, Indie’s bike roared to life. When the other bikes started up, the ground shook underneath us. Above us, dark clouds gathered ominously. We rolled forward, off the field and onto the tarmac of the main road. And out into danger.

Chapter Thirty Three

The bikes took up formation, Indie in the lead followed by Fury and Barry the Blade. A handful of patched members sat behind them, the highest up in the ride they’d probably ever get. Then, in the middle, Reap rode with Emmie on the back, Big Red beside them, protecting their right flank. Jake came next, looking out of place on Magnet’s precious ride, Heidi holding onto the bars on either side of the seat. Jazz’s bike screamed from the middle of the pack, the heightened tone of it out of place, a soprano amongst the baritones. Beanz sat uncomfortably on her flank, boxing her in. Then the rest of us followed, Toni and Sicknote directly in front of me.

All of us protecting our president. Because if Indie fell, we all did. And the Bloody Hand wouldn’t leave a single one of us alive.

We cruised along the country road, riding efficiently, keeping our fastest speed for the A66. When we hit that road, we’d open the throttle and get as far from the Frostbite rally as quickly as possible. Taking Cumbria as allies would have to be done another day.

The bikes roared through Kirkby Stephen, onlookers watching, some scowling, most looking at the noisy procession in awe. We piled through the traffic lights altogether, the back riders pushing through even when the lights hit red.

The A66 was fast approaching; the metres ticking down as we hurtled towards it, gaining speed now we were out of the town. The road was wide, but it climbed, and it twisted and then it dipped again. Sicknote took the brow of a hill too fast, the tarmac dropping away on the other side. The Harley went airborne, just a few inches, but enough that I knew he was nipping his arse cheeks together as hard as he could.

I checked our surroundings, watching the flanks in front of me, glancing over at the middle of the pack. Jazz was switching weight again. I knew that look. I’d seen her ride like that before. She was getting bored, the ride far too slow for her. She pushed the bike forward a little, checking Beanz, who was beside her, watching his reactions. She would squeeze out in front of him and then be away the moment he took his attention off her.

In my mirrors, a mass of dark shapes caught my eye. Bikes. And a whole fucking load of them. They were dots now. We were well ahead, too far ahead for me to work out who they were. But it was unlikely any big groups were on the road right now, because every bike club in this area would be at that Frostbite rally. Which meant we were most likely being followed from there.

I wrenched the throttle, pulling out from behind Sicknote and Toni Cannelloni, opening the Harley up and speeding up past the pack. Indie eyed me in the mirror, waving at Fury. I roared past the rest of the riders, slowing to fall in line with Indie and nudging my visor upwards.

“We have riders on our tail.” I yelled.

“Who?”

“Can’t tell from this far away. But there’s a canny few.”

Indie nodded at me, checked his mirrors, and I fell back, letting the Harley drift as the others pulled past me. Alice stared at me from the back of Caleb, but I turned away, not wanting to catch her eyes. She would distract me. And we had no room for that.

As Beanz and Jazz glided past, I waved my fingers at him, pointing to my eyes and then at Jazz. I couldn’t see her through the dark visor of her helmet, but I was almost certain she was mouthing obscenities at me as she crouched forward over the Hayabusa.

A sign for the A66 was up ahead, pointing east, the bikes in front slowing. Then, like a well-oiled display team, they tipped right, crossing the carriageway and entering the slip road. I followed, taking a good look to my right as I turned, watching the big mass of black bikes that trailed us. Then, just as I crossed the broken white lines that split the lanes of the road, I saw them from the left of me. The Hand. They were already here. Already on us.

The bikes in front of me roared. Angry shouts from Harley engines as throttles opened, and they joined the road over the Pennines. This was where the real riding would start, and now we were being tailed, we were going to have to ride hard.

Around us, a light misting of rain had fallen, dampening the road, layering any grease or oil spills with an extra layer of slickness. I revved the bike, squeezing on the outside of the pack, racing up towards Indie again. He watched me in the mirror, keeping his bike steady as I dropped back in beside him.