Page 35

Voices surrounded the tent. The low drone of conversations, the odd snore from somewhere nearby. The tents were crammed so close together that it seemed I could hear everyone around me. And if I could hear everyone, then so could everyone hear me, us.

The sleeping bag was empty. Both Cade and Caleb had gone. I rolled over, the movement shifting the remnants of aftershave, the scent tickling my nose. A collection of clothes had built at the bottom: underpants, knickers. All cast off at some point last night.

Rolling over, I lay looking at the ceiling of the little dome tent, grey and boring. The day had built enough daylight that the tent was naturally lit, and my mind wandered with worry and regret. I shouldn’t have let that happen. I shouldn’t have let Caleb touch me, let alone let him enter me. But I’d lost all control, taken over by carnal urges and the pull from between my legs.

Where had they both gone? Were they arguing? Was Cade upset with me? My stomach was heavy, dread sneaking in and refusing to budge.

The surrounding voices changed. Women’s voices now. Lots of them, and I couldn’t make any of them out. But there was an urgency to the tone, and it grew closer.

“You fucking bitch!” I heard the voices more clearly now. “I saw you giving him eyes.”

“Babe, I wouldn’t touch him with a barge pole. No way would I flirt with that arsehole. Get back to your fella and stop making a tit of yourself.”

I crawled out of the sleeping bag, fishing around in the holdall for some clean underwear. My little tent shook, someone tripping over a guide rope.

“Bitch, I watched you.”

“Look. Thrash’ll never get over me. I’m sorry he won’t look at you like he looks at me every time I walk past him. I’m not interested. Never will be. You can have that arsehole to yourself. Just tell him to keep his hands off me or I’ll cut them off.”

I pulled the second jumper into place, wondering whether I’d need a third, half of my attention on the arguing women outside the tent.

“I’ll rip your fucking head off!” The woman screamed. Loud. Angry. Visceral.

Someone grunted.

“Shit,” a collection of voices hissed.

I pulled my jacket on top of the mountain of jumpers, dipping my head as I scrambled towards the door of the tent. On the other side of the polyester flap, the noises continued. Women’s voices mainly, but now it sounded like men joined in.

“Fuck. Get her off her,” a familiar low voice barked.

Tentatively, I pulled at the zip, not sure what I was sticking my head out into. Legs. That was all I could see, multiple pairs of legs. I crawled through the entrance, out into the cold, although it was warmer than yesterday, my breath not making trails of white mist in the air today.

I stood up, catching Heidi’s eye.

“What’s going on?” I mouthed, too scared to make much noise.

“Jazz just laid out Thrash’s girlfriend,” she explained, her eyes darting to the commotion a few tents over.

“Jazz? Thrash?”

“Fury’s sister. Thrash is the vice president of The Notorious. If the shit doesn’t hit the fan now, I’ll eat my tent,” Heidi whispered.

There was still a scuffle in front of us, people parting slightly. And now I could see the two women that someone had just pulled apart. Jazz’s hair had been torn loose from her long dark plait, a single trickle of blood running from one nostril. The massive auburn mound of Reap held tightly to her, pulling her away from the woman lying on the floor. The twins stood behind the brunette collapsed in the doorway to Indie’s tent. Both bent down, scooping up under her arms and propping her back onto her feet. But the minute she was upright again, she ran forwards. One, two steps before Caleb caught her round her waist, pulling her back into him in one easy yank. The woman spun slightly, turning into him, and she huddled against his chest. He closed the other arm around her, holding her to him and walking them backwards, retreating from Jazz, who looked like she would murder the girl purely with the venom in her eyes.

Watching him guide her backwards, set a bottomless feeling spreading through me, an irrational pang of jealousy. Of seeing him with someone else, even though he wasn’t with me. Not really. Just that one night. The three of us together. I was with Cade, not Caleb.

“Who is the woman that Chaos has hold of?” Emmie asked, stepping back from the crowd of Kings and a handful of other women I didn’t recognise.

“It’s Caleb,” I corrected.

“Carnage? How can you tell the two of them apart?”

“It’s his face. He’s less intense.”

“Really? You can see that?”

“Yeah. I guess.”

But before she said anything else, shouts from behind interrupted us.

“Get your filthy fucking Kings’ paws off my lass, you absolute rat.”

The man pushed through everyone, knocking one of the prospects clean off his feet. The surrounding atmosphere changed, the temperature dropped, an icy coldness drifting through our camp. The man bowled on, bounding off Heidi, and she shot him a look, stopping him in his tracks. He turned, staring down at her, and even though a beard hid a third of his face, he still looked like an angry bull, his cheeks flushed a harsh pink.

And now he was moving towards Caleb, with long, thunderous, enraged steps. I wheeled round, looking at Heidi and Emmie and then back at the giant of a man moving quicker than a man his size should.

“Thrash!” Indie barked, emerging from the tent, cutting off the man with an angry bear’s head embroidered on the back of his jacket.

The big ginger man paused, the men we’d rode here with stealthily surrounding him.

“Take a look around you, Thrash, mate. This is going to end in one of two ways. Take your lass and get her out of here. I don’t need to explain the other option.”

The woman turned round in Caleb’s arms, blood dripping from a cut in her lip. Thrash’s glare moved from his woman to Caleb, who watched him carefully, covertly separating his feet and squaring his stance.

“Who did this, babe?”

“Me,” Jazz shouted from the other side, and I saw the roll of Fury’s eyes.

But instead of charging at her, he shook his head, wrapped a meaty hand around his girl’s upper arm, and led her back through the crowd.

The crowd that gathered watched them go, no one speaking, the only sounds a heavy grunting breathing from behind me from someone who probably had smoked far too many cigarettes in their lives.

A tug on my arm sent my heart into a frantic sprint, slowing as soon as I saw the green eyes in front of me. His face was still, but deep in those eyes was worry. Cade.

“Al, I need you to pack your things. We need to go,” he said quietly, bowing his head towards me.

“Why? Because of that?”

“No, not because of that. But that doesn’t help.”

I glanced over his shoulder at the men around Indie’s tent. Caleb stood watching us. Fury stroked a hand through his long hair, huge muscles bulging through the hoodie he wore, and then a man stepped forward, just into the doorway of Indie’s tent. He was clutching something over his nose. His eyes looked puffy, even from back here. And then he dropped his arm. Sergeant Gray was here, in the middle of the Kings’ camp.

“Why are the police here?” I hissed at Cade, who whirled round to see where I was looking.

“Fuck,” Cade half laughed. “Thought you meant the real police.”

“Isn’t he a police sergeant?”

“Yeah. Thought there were suddenly extras, not just Jake.”

“So why is he here?”

“Warning us we need to leave.”

“Why?”

“Because Indie has decided it’s time to go.”

Cade moved to step around me towards our tent, but I caught his hand. Instinctively, he curled his fingers around mine, but he didn’t turn to face me. Not immediately. He stared on, struggling with whether to tell me the truth. I could feel the tension in his arm. Then the heaviness of his forearm disappeared as he sighed, turning back to me.

“Jake brought us a warning. The Bloody Hand are going to ambush us on the way home. If we leave now, we can catch them by surprise and be out of the way before they mobilise. But we need to be quick. The moment we’re seen packing up, the alarm will be raised.”

I swallowed, a thick lump forming in my throat, panic kick-starting my heart towards that frightened rhythm. Around us, Kings had already moved towards tents, panniers already being slung back onto bikes.

*****

The tents in the middle of the camp were packed and loaded, those around the perimeter left to give us some cover. But the moment the pack of bikes rode away, the word was out.

“Everyone listen up.”

All faces turned to Indie, the entire group quieted straight away. Not even a whisper, the atmosphere as still as the eye of the storm, and I knew when we entered the other side, all hell would break loose.

“Jake, Reap, Caleb. You take our women. I want them all in the middle of the pack. Beanz, you keep your eye on Jazz. She rides beside you. You go where she goes and if she splits, I’ll take your balls.”

Men glanced at each other, no one able to keep the tension off their faces.

“We’re going to be riding fast and tight, so be fucking alert. Me and Fury are leading. No matter what happens, or how many times we peel off, or hang back, you keep going. Big Red and Barry the Blade will run up and down the line. Watch for them coming and stay out of their way. Cade, Sicknote, Toni Canneloni are at the back. Sicknote and Toni, stay at the back. Cade is our fastest rider. Everyone ignore him, unless he gives you a direct order.”

“Shouldn’t we have Reap on one of the flanks, not with a pillion? He’s our best fighter if the shit goes down,” Beanz asked, wincing instantly like an abused dog.

“Exactly. The Hand will come after me and anyone associated with me. If they can’t find me, they’ll go for Emmie. I need the best man on Emmie. And without Demon, that’s Reap.”

“And why is he riding with us?” someone challenged from the middle of the bikers.

“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.