Page 19

Razor

W E PACKED UP and took off right away. Seven of us, five on bikes, two in a follow van, driving straight through the night, headed east to Idaho. Highway 84 stretching out like the icy finger on the hand of death, from Portland all the way to Twin Falls. We made the run in record time, stopping only for gas, bike maintenance, and two well-timed half-hour rest stops. Hatch, Booker, Flea, Train, and Harm were all seasoned road dogs. Cash was my closest friend, and Booker’s son, and as much as I insisted he sit this one out, he refused. Eight hours spent mostly in the saddle isn’t the kindest thing to do the human body, but not a man among us would admit to the slightest discomfort while on the road. Out here, we’re ‘road hard,’ driven on by a common goal. A shared purpose. We rode not only to avenge Waverly, but to get justice for everyone Damon Mechem had ever hurt. His list of offenses was long, and we intended for him to stand accountable for each and every crime he’d ever committed.

We pulled into the town of Twin Falls at the break of dawn, like a posse who’d been sent for by the local sheriff in some old western. The Primal Howlers were twelve hours away, so couldn’t send any scouts ahead to confirm Cupid’s location, but fortunately Sundance had a solid contact that was willing to help in Burley, which was only a forty-five minute ride away.

“Chappy” was a non-affiliated biker, who farmed sugar beets and cannabis, and on occasion rode with the Howlers whenever they rode through the area. He was more than happy to do a favor for Sundance and his club and was able to confirm Cupid was at his half-sister’s just as Booker suspected. Hatch spoke with Chappy directly during our first fuel up. Apparently, the two long-lost siblings were holed up in Sorcha’s im mobile home and appeared to be on the downside of a meth binge. Chappy said he only had to peek through the torn curtains and tinfoil in the windows to see the pair of meth zombies crashed out inside the trailer.

Chappy told Hatch, “Barring any surprises, looks like a classic fish in a barrel type of scenario.”

And Chappy was right. Well, mostly right anyway .

Having left our bikes down the road a little to avoid waking anyone, we rolled up to Sorcha’s neighborhood at just past seven a.m., which was about equal to midnight in tweaker time. While the rest of the civilized world was either off to, or already at work, the meth zombies were turning in after a long night of twitching, scratching, and sweating.

Cash, Train, and I quietly made our way to the mobile home while the others stayed in the van, ready to receive the cargo and take off. True to Chappy’s scouting report, a quick peek inside the trailer revealed our two-person family reunion participants passed out cold. Cupid was on the couch, while baby sister laid sprawled out on the filthy carpet. They didn’t even stir as we made entry through the unlocked door.

“How do you wanna do this?” Cash whispered.

I nodded to Cupid. “How about Cash grabs Cupid while you keep an eye on the sister and make sure she doesn’t go anywhere?”

“The fuck you gonna do?” Cash asked.

“I’ll watch your backs in case of any surprises,” I replied.

Cash twisted up his face in a ‘whatever’ expression and I gave him the finger.

“Okay, each of you get ready to grab ’em,” I whispered. “On three. One, two—”

Before I could get to three, Sorcha grabbed a nearby pair of scissors off the floor and stabbed Cash in the calf.

Cash let out a holler appropriate for getting stabbed in the fucking shin and quickly silenced himself. But it was too late, Cupid shot up from his place on the couch.

I may be wrong, but I’m pretty sure I heard Train giggle the words, “Back to sleep,” before clocking Cupid directly on the chin. It was a little hard to make out anything over Sorcha’s wails.

“Get your motherfucking hands off my brother!” Sorcha screeched.

“Shut her the fuck up,” I yelled to Cash.

“I’m trying,” he replied as he wrestled around on the floor with a ninety-eight-pound meth zombie.

Train and I bust out laughing and believe me when I say that we were laughing hard .

“Get this creepy spider chick the fuck off me,” Cash called out as he bled all over the forty-year-old mobile home carpet.

I looked at Train.

“She’s trying to bite me,” Cash squealed.

“I’m not hitting a woman,” Train protested. “He’s your best friend. You help him.”

I sighed before lending a hand to my brother in arms, who had now joined in on the laughter. “She’s got the strength of ten tweakers,” he cried out in between fits.

I grabbed her by the shoulders, picked her up, and flung her across the room onto a junk laden dining room table, where she struggled long enough for us to beat a hasty retreat outside with Cupid in tow. Train held the front door closed from the outside, trapping demon Sorcha inside while we got Cupid into the van. Once Hatch and Booker had Cupid secured, Train let go of the flimsy aluminum door and hauled ass toward us, making his way inside mere seconds before Sorcha reached the van. As we sped off, we could hear her howling in the distance like a possessed banshee.

“Holy, fuck. That was exciting,” Train said as we sped off toward the highway.

“She fucking stabbed me,” Cash yelled.

Train pulled up Cash’s blood-soaked pant leg to reveal an inch wide stab wound that went down to the bone.”

“I’m gonna have to stitch that up right away,” Hatch said, looking at the wound. “There’s a medic kit in the glove box.”

“Aw, shit,” Cash growled.

Hatch squeezed Cash’s shoulder. “I hope your pain tolerance is good, because the only pain killers I’ve got in that kit are two mini fridge bottles of bourbon, and one of those is for me so I don’t shake while I’m stitching you up.”

“Oh, great,” Cash grumbled.

“I’m just fucking with you, Cash. Both bottles of bourbon are for me.”

Stopping to grab the bikes, we followed instructions sent to us by Sundance to a secluded hunting shack in the nearby Napa Springs Wildlife Management Area. A place he’d used before that was just perfect for our current needs.

Once we arrived and made our way inside the cabin, we found the sturdiest chair in the place and tied Cupid to it. I then removed his hood and gag. To no one’s surprise, he started shooting his mouth off as soon as we did.

“You motherfuckers have made a big mistake,” he said, trying but failing to hide the fear in his voice. “You have no idea who you’re fucking with.”

“No, we haven’t, and yes we do,” I replied. “We know exactly who you are as well as the racist assholes you ride with. We also know the crimes you’re guilty of, so we’re not gonna spend any more time dicking around. Besides, who you are isn’t nearly as important as who we are and who we represent.”

Cupid squinted, reading my patch. “Dogs of Fire? I never heard of your club. Who the fuck are you?”

“We’re a friendly, community club from your neighbors to the west. We enjoy long rides, craft beers, and rounding up escaped rapists and murders.”

“Is that what this is?” Cupid asked. “What, are you guys like some sort of vigilante group. Like some sort of neighborhood watch MC? Are you gonna turn me into the cops for a reward? Is that it?”

“Boy, you skinhead Nazi fuckfaces really are dumb aren’t you,” I asked, smacking Cupid upside his shaved head. “If we wanted the cops to have you, we would have driven you to the nearest police station. Instead, we’ve taken you to a nice, secluded hunting cabin in the middle of the woods so no one can hear your screams.”

“What the fuck do you guys want, huh? Who the fuck are you?”

“I told you. We’re the ones who are going to balance the scales of justice. We represent a young woman who you drugged and raped a number of years ago at a college frat party.”

“What are you talking about? You fuckin kidnapped me because of some college chick I fucked back in the day?”

I hit Cupid with a solid blow, directly to the face, completely smashing his nose. “You motherfucker,” he groaned as blood gushed from his face like an open faucet.

“She’s not some chick. Her name is Waverly, and you drugged and raped her. You and your recently emasculated sicko partner, Boneyard.”

“You were the ones who cut off Boneyard’s dick?”

“I can’t say we had the pleasure, but here we are with you now and who knows where the night will take us?”

“You touch me again and you’re dead, all of you. My boys will kill every single one of your members and your fucking families, too. Do you hear me?”

“Let me see,” I said before landing another short, sharp, punch right to his already broken nose. And while I felt zero pity for Cupid, I did appreciate the amount of pain that must have caused him. It was a moment I’d remind myself of whenever Waverly was triggered by something or struggling with her emotions due to what he did to her. I’d remember how good it felt to connect with his face, and the length of time after I hit him before he was even able to cry out in pain.

“Damn, son. That looked like it hurt,” I said, taunting him as his face began to swell up like a tomato .

Once able to speak again Cupid pleaded, “If you let me go I can get you money.”

“Again, if we wanted money, we would have taken you to an ATM. We’re here to do what the cops and prison guards couldn’t do. We found you, now we’re going to make you suffer like you made your victims suffer. Then, once we’ve beaten you nearly to death, we’re gonna put you inside a hole where no one will ever find you.”

“Bullshit,” Cupid said, spitting blood onto the plank floorboards. “I don’t see diamonds on your patches.”

“And lucky for you, I promised someone I love I wouldn’t do anything to earn one tonight.”

Flea stepped forward, donning a pair of brass knuckles. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t drag you to death’s door.”

“Fuck you. You don’t scare me,” Cupid replied.

I laughed. “I haven’t even told you the scary part yet. Us beating you until you’re reduced do hamburger meat is merely the opening act. The headliner is our friend, agent Jaxon Quinn, who’s currently en route and should be landing at Magic Valley Regional Airport.”

“He’s flying in on one of the FBI’s Gulfstream G550s,” Hatch said. “On account of the fact that he’s with the FBI.”

“So, fucking what? The FBI is always involved with escaped convict cases. They’ll throw me back in jail with some added time and I’ll get out when I beat the case at trial.”

I shook my head. “Agent Quinn isn’t coming to take you back to prison.”

“Then where the fuck does he think he’s taking me?”

“He’s going to put you on that very same Gulfstream he flew in on, but instead of taking you back to Colorado, he’ll be taking you to an undisclosed CIA black site. You will then be handed over to the CIA as a known terrorist, who is involved in active, mass casualty plots against the United States. This black site is where you will spend the rest of your life. Alone, locked in a cell, shackles around your wrists and ankles, twenty-four hours a day. The only times you’ll have any meaningful human interaction is while you’re being interrogated.”

“You can’t get away with something like that. I’m an American. I have rights.”

“That’s right,” Hatch said. “You’re an American named Cody Chalmers. You’re a thirty-two-year-old former college professor from Hawthorne College who was radicalized by the Taliban in 2005 after you were captured in Afghanistan during a humanitarian aid effort. The FBI will have a full dossier on you, complete with your fingerprints, dental records and medical history. Nothing about this handover will seem out of the ordinary except for the prisoner constantly going on about how he’s not really a traitorous terrorist, but an outlaw biker who’s escaped from prison while awaiting trial for rape, murder, and criminal extortion.”

“Although, I hope you have good penmanship,” I said.

“Why’s that?” Cupid seethed .

“Because you’re gonna have to tell your story to the CIA in writing after I cut your tongue out,” I said, pulling my k-bar knife from its sheath. “Don’t worry. I keep it nice and sharp. After all, they don’t call me Razor for nothing.”

By the time Jaxon came to collect Cupid, we’d more than made good on our promise to give him the beating of a lifetime. I wasn’t even sure he’d survive the flight to wherever Jaxon was taking him, and honestly, I didn’t really care. Dead or alive, he’d never see the light of day again, let alone get anywhere near Waverly and that’s what I cared about the most.

After I removed Cupid’s tongue, I thought about forcing it down his throat, but Hatch had a better idea. He wrapped it up tight and mailed it to the Supreme Rider’s clubhouse with a note explaining this is what happens to rapist bikers in their town.

“Hopefully this’ll strike some fear and confusion into the hearts of those Aryan assholes.”

“Yeah,” I replied. “And if we ever need more parts to send the Supreme Riders, we can always ask the CIA to send us one of Cupid’s ears or something.”

“The Dogs of Fire have teeth alright,” Hatch said.

“Yeah. We’ll bite your fucking tongue outta your head,” Flea replied.

I’m not sure what it meant about us as human beings that we could make jokes after what we’d just done, but I did know that it meant my club brothers would do anything to protect the woman I loved, and I loved them all for that.

* * *

Waverly

I’d barely slept and other than the chicken Maisie had forced me to eat twelve hours ago, I hadn’t eaten anything, my stomach in knots not knowing if Gio was okay.

I knew he was alive because he texted me on occasion, but whether or not he was okay, I wasn’t entirely sure, because his texts were short, and they didn’t have any type of video proof attached.

“Can I get you a cuppa, darling?” Maisie asked.

I shook my head, tucking my feet under my bottom as I pulled a blanket further around me.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to bed? They won’t be home for hours.”

“I won’t be able to sleep until he’s home safe,” I said.

“These things can take—”

Before she could finish her sentence, we heard the beep of the alarm, and I threw off my blanket and made a mad dash for the door. Maisie was on my heels as I practically slammed against Gio.

“Hey,” he said, wrapping his arms around me. “Why aren’t you asleep?”

I glared up at him. “Are you being serious?”

Maisie slid into Hatch’s embrace, and he held her with one arm as he reset the alarm.

“Why do you have blood on you?” Maisie snapped, running her hands over Hatch.

“Oh my god!” I squeaked, noticing Gio did too. “ Where are you bleeding?”

“It’s not ours,” he said.

“Whose blood is it?” Maisie demanded.

“Cash’s.”

Maisie gasped. “What? What do mean? Is he okay?”

“Yeah, Sunshine. He’s with Gina and Katie right now getting sewn up.”

“He called Teagan on the way, so she’s with him.”

“Who’s Teagan?” I asked.

“His wife,” Gio said.

“I need to call Dani,” Maisie said.

I glanced up at Gio and he smiled. “Cash’s mom.”

“Ah.”

“Are either of you hungry?” Maisie asked.

“Starving,” Hatch said.

“Let’s get you fed, then you can all sleep,” she said.

I’d never seen two men eat so fast in my life... or try to force feed me.

“I can’t,” I said, pushing my plate away. “I’ll throw up.”

“Baby, you barely ate.”

“Yeah, well, she’s had about three hundred calories the entire time you’ve been gone,” Maisie tattled. “Her stomach’s probably shrunk.”

“Maisie!” I admonished.

Gio raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t eat, Fizzy?”

“I couldn’t.”

“Baby, you haven’t eaten in a week,” he said with a sigh. “I’m home, I’m safe, Cupid’s never going to see the light of day—”

“Did you kill him?”

“No, baby. We handed him over to the FBI.”

I speared Hatch with a pointed stare. “Is that true?”

“Yeah, sweetheart. One hundred percent.”

I relaxed in my chair. “So, it’s done?”

“Yeah, baby, it’s done. You’re free.”

I turned to Gio. “Can we go to bed now?”

He smiled gently. “Yeah, beautiful, we can go to bed. You sure you don’t want more to eat?”

“I just want you.”

“We’ll take care of the dishes,” Maisie said. “Go reconnect.”

“Thanks, Maisie,” Gio said, taking my hand and leading me downstairs.

The second the door was closed, his lips were on mine and he was guiding me to the bed.

“I love you,” I panted out as he ripped off my panties.

“Love you, too, baby.”

As he made love to me, I thanked whatever god might be in the universe for the man he or she had brought me.

He wasn’t at all who I’d imagined, but he was perfect.