Havoc (Los Desperados MC) (3 page)

“You really think they’ll go through all the trouble to hunt you down?” Julian asked as we walked towards his bike. It was a large black Harley covered in shining black metal and slick chrome. I know everything there is to know about bikes and this wasn’t some chop shop hobbled together piece of garbage. It was a beautiful and well-maintained machine and under any other circumstance I would have jumped at the chance to ride it. Julian paused for a moment as if searching for the right words and then he continued: “I mean, you’re good, but you’re a woman...”

“What the fuck does that mean?” I demanded. I had been looking around the empty field and the empty streets in front of me. If only there were someone else out here, if I could find a car and try to flag it down, I might be okay. The car might not stop, but they would at least call the cops and that would put some pressure on Los Desperados. But there was no way I could count on that. There had been a big accident and a shootout and the police still hadn't shown up. In this neighborhood, they might never. But with that little crack from Julian I couldn’t help give up my search and spin around to glare at him.

“I don’t know,” Julian said, crossing his arms over his broad chest, “I guess it means that in a motorcycle club women are typically worth less than men.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not typical,” I answered. “And women are worth the exact same amount as men, if not more!” I continued. I was all riled up, and I needed to do something. But I couldn’t run and there was no way I could take him in a fight, but I wanted to. I wanted to hit him; I wanted to hit him with my truck over and over again. I was mad and I was in pain; the ropes around my wrists were too tight. Every movement hurt and Julian kept tugging on the rope and irritating the skin further.

“Calm down. This isn’t a rally,” he said. “Are you gonna be good on this ride?” He asked, turning to face me. “You’re not going to do anything stupid like run me off the road, right? Because you’ll be on the bike, too, and that would be a very stupid thing for you to do.”

I hated the fact that he was right. There would be no way to take him out without also hurting myself, and it wouldn’t be a small injury either. People generally don’t walk away from motorcycle accidents. There was nothing I could do; I was trapped, outgunned, and outmanned. I could only watch as he took a bandana from his pocket and walked towards me. I tried to lean away and put as much distance between my eyes and that bandana as possible, but he was holding the rope around my wrist and for every inch I tried to back away, he just pulled me closer. 

He walked behind me and I could do nothing as I felt the fabric wrap around my eyes. He tightened the knot and everything went dark. I couldn’t see anything, but I knew he was close. I could hear him breathing. I could feel his breath on my skin and I could sense him near me. He was so tall and strong and even without the use of my eyes I knew he was still there, until he wasn’t. I could hear him as he moved away; I could hear his boots on the pavement walking away from me. He didn’t tell me to follow so I stood still, not sure where to go or what to do.

But with my hands tied up and my eyes blindfolded, I didn’t enjoy being alone. I couldn’t tell who else was out there, what dangers there were. I hated Julian, but, at that moment, I needed to know he was close. “What are you doing?” I finally called out, trying to keep the fear from my voice.

“Helmet,” he said and I heard him come back and I felt the heavy helmet slip over my skull and past my ears and I felt it as he clipped it under my chin. “Come on,” he said, but instead of tugging on the rope he took me by my hand and led me gently over the bumpy grass. My hand felt tiny and fragile in the strong grip of his rough touch. His grip was firm and his skin was warm and when I tripped I couldn’t help but hold onto him for my balance. He led me slowly through the grass without me falling until we stopped and he put my hand on the seat of his bike.

“I can’t ride blindfolded,” I said.

“Why not?” he asked and I could feel as he straddled the bike and settled onto the seat.

“I can’t keep my balance,” I answered, but I didn’t know if it were true or not. I was desperate to do something. I had no idea what awaited me with my meeting with Marco and I had just realized that this would be my last chance to escape. But I was blindfolded and tied up and wearing a helmet; how far could I really get?

“Sure you can,” he scoffed, “get on.” He pulled on the rope and I stumbled onto the bike. I would need to put my hands on him in order to get on. I would have to use his shoulders to keep my balance. That would mean touching him and trusting that he wouldn’t let me fall. He gave another impatient tug on my restraints and I pulled back on them angrily. But this was not a battle I was going to win. I needed to bide my time and wait for the opportunity for escape to present itself. I put my hands on his strong shoulder and felt his muscles underneath my fingers as I brought my leg over the bike and settled down behind him. “Just lean into me, and don’t cause any trouble,” he said.

I understood what he meant. I couldn’t put my tied up arms around him to keep my balance, so I would have to lean against him so his balance could guide mine. So I pressed myself against his back feeling the muscles of his back against my breasts. I brought my knees alongside his legs and jumped a little when he brought his hand down and squeezed my left knee. I didn’t know what he meant by that, but if he tried to put his hands anywhere else he was going to see what made The Bandits so dangerous. He turned the key and the bike rumbled to life beneath us sending shivers up my spine.

He took off quickly and, at first, I had to close my eyes as we sped down the empty lamp-lit streets. I wasn’t holding onto anything and if he were to give one sudden jerk I could be off the bike and nothing more than a stain on the pavement in seconds. I could sabotage the bike, try to jump off and upset the balance, but at this speed it might kill me. What would be worse is that Julian could compensate and get still away unhurt, defeating the entire purpose. Suddenly we made a hard right and I felt my balance failing as the momentum pushed me to the left with no way to hold on. I was slipping off my seat and involuntarily I squeezed him with my legs and pressed myself into his back even more until the turn was over and we were steady again. I breathed a sigh of relief and I felt him put his hand on my knee again, only this time I didn’t jump.

I don’t know how long we rode or where we ended up. I tried to keep up with the turns, but while they make that seem really easy in movies, it turns out to be impossible in real life. Finally I felt the bike slow down and then come to a full stop. I felt Julian get off and I quickly brought up my tied-up hands and threw off the helmet and tore at the blindfold until I could see. We were on the outskirts of the city with nothing but dark, empty roads. Julian had parked his bike in the gravel parking lot of a large bar. The bar was several stories tall with a wooden exterior and a huge wrap-around porch. There were rows of bikes lined up out front and tall, bearded men smoking and drinking beer in rough looking chairs. 

“You can still let me go,” I said quickly turning to Julian.

“Why would I do that?” he asked.

“To prevent an all out war. Stealing merch is expected from you guys but they won’t put up with you taking a member. I’m doing you a favor,” I pleaded. I was looking at the rope in his hands, waiting for it to slack so I could run, but he kept his hand closed tightly around it.

“I don’t need any favors from you, sweetheart,” he said, not getting up.

I brought my leg over the bike and stood shakily to my feet. “So what are you going to do with me?” I demanded.

“Who says
we’re
going to do anything? You’re making a lot of assumptions about us,” Julian said.

“I know how biker gangs operate,” I said ignoring Julian’s jab, “and The Bandits are going to destroy you. They’re gonna hunt you down one by one and then they’re gonna burn your little clubhouse to the ground when they’ve found out you’ve taken me.”

“You’re a good driver, you know that?” For a moment I didn’t say anything. It was too strange. I had threatened him and he had complimented me. “I remember when you first started shooting at us someone was yelling, ‘it’s a girl, it’s a girl,’ and I had no idea what he was talking about. I never thought a woman could drive like that or shoot like that. But then I’m sneaking around the van and there you are, this hot, short curvy blonde girl and I think to myself that there has to be someone else with her. But no, it was just you all alone.” He trailed off, but he was still staring at me. I couldn’t meet his eyes; instead I looked at the gravel beneath me and waited to see what he would say next. “I would never let a woman drive alone,” he said. “Lesson learned.”

He pulled gently on the ropes until I was standing next to him and then I watched as he pulled at the knot in a few places and then the rope fell from my hands. As I was lowering my hands he reached out and grabbed my left wrist. I winced as he touched the sensitive roughed-up skin and he loosened grip and then placed my small hand in the palm of his.

“Look at all this,” he said as he gently grazed his thumb over the rope-burned skin. “You shouldn’t have fought so hard,” he said, looking into my eyes. “You were never going to win.”

He turned around and gestured for me to walk in front of him.

I looked at him one last time, trying to see if there were some way I could get out of this. I was hoping for a hint of pity, but he showed nothing, his face was a mask and I had no idea what he was thinking or planning. I had no idea what awaited me inside. All the bikers out front were staring at us now and I put one foot in front of the other and began to walk into the Los Desperados clubhouse with Julian right on my heels.

It wasn’t a bar exactly. It didn’t have a name or a sign outside advertising what they might have inside. This was not a place for tourists or weary travelers to stop and grab a bite. This was a private, members only club. Julian was nudging me forward and the men who were sitting out on the porch all turned and gawked openly at me. I had never felt more aware of how I must look wearing skintight skinny jeans and a low cut top. I’m a curvy girl, so I know how to wear a low-cut top but at that exact moment I wished I were wearing a turtleneck, or a burqa.

“What you got, Julian?” one of the men on the porch called out. He was a heavyset man with a thick red beard and a neck covered in tattoos. He had a bottle of something in his hand and he stopped to spit his chewing tobacco into the street. “Is that the captured Bandit?”

“Yeah, that’s her,” Julian said, giving me a push forward. “She’s good, gave us a hell of a ride.”

“You were gone so long, we were worried you weren’t gonna bring her back for us,” the man continued and he gave a deep belly laugh at his own sick joke. “You take some time to test the merchandise?”

“She doesn’t belong to me,” Julian said, “It’s Marco’s call.”

I felt sick to my stomach. There were about ten bikers outside forming a half circle around us. I could see and hear them whispering to each other and snickering at their own jokes. Behind them the bar looked dark and intimidating and I had no idea what could be waiting for me inside.

Julian put his hand on the small of my back and guided me past the leering bikers. We walked up the rough wooden stairs onto the porch and towards the door. I felt sick with nervousness, but I refused to cry. I was not going to let them see me be weak. I didn’t work my way up from old lady to lead driver on heists by crying. I was tough and strong and The Bandits would come looking for me. I just had to wait and bide my time.

“You don’t have to worry about Marco,” Julian said as we walked towards the door. I could hear thumping heavy music coming from the other side. The windows were blacked out but I could see light peeking out here and there. “He’s probably just going to ransom you to The Bandits or the cops, whoever will pay better. You’ll be safe.”

“Thanks for that,” I responded sarcastically. I rubbed my hands over my raw wrists and wondered what would come next.

“You’re pretty mouthy for a chick. Has anyone ever told you that?” Julian asked.

“All the time,” I grumbled. We had stopped walking and were standing in front of the door. I was torn between wanting to stay out on the safety of the porch and wanted to just go in and face what would come. The waiting and hints and innuendos were starting to get to me. There was a part of me that just wanted to get whatever would come over with.

“How did you end up driving a truck, anyway?” He asked.

“I was the best at it,” I responded. “No one is better than me. I’ve done hundreds of heists and this was the first time I was ever caught. I’ve outrun the police and Mexican cartels and other gangs. But all that’s down the drain now that I’ve been taken by a Los Desperados.”

“That’s right,” he said, taking a step closer to me. “I did that.” He was so close to me, I could see little flecks of gold in his green eyes. His smooth skin was only inches from mine. I couldn’t stop my breath from hitching or my heart from pounding. He was towering over me; I knew he could so easily crush me with those giant arms of his.

But I refused to look away or back down. “You got lucky,” I spit at him.

“Luck?” He demanded. “You think that was luck? That was weeks of planning. We knew your operation and we knew you had contacts down south and that you were moving goods on the freeway. We talked to your buyers and we knew you had a shipment coming in. We set watchmen on the road and when the saw the rig coming down the street they called the rest of the gang and we set the trap. You saw us work, you saw our maneuvers, we fought you and we won.”

“How many of you were there, twenty? And only one of me. I don’t know how loudly I would celebrate if I were you.”

“And whose fault is it that there was only one of you? You had no blocker car, no guards, and no passenger even. Face it: you got cocky. You started doing runs on your own thinking no one could touch you. But I caught you...” he trailed off and looked confused and then his confusion turned into a smirk. “What is your name anyway?” he asked.

I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of an answer. I wanted him to feel as weak and frustrated as I felt. I wanted to hit him, scratch him, and bite him. He was right; it was stupid to go on my own. I used to have a blocker bike go with me, but I didn’t like having someone else in the lead. I didn’t want to just drive the rig; I wanted to be in control. I convinced my bosses I didn’t need the blocker – that it drew too much attention and didn’t do any good, and now I was here because of it.

“You’re not going to tell me?” He asked. “Maybe I should give you a name. Something like Prudence or Ruth or Ursula.”

“Daniela,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “Daniela Quinn, you tell The Bandits that’s who you have and you’re going to have a war on your hands. Maybe if I ask nicely they’ll leave you for me.”

“You really want to threaten me, Daniela?” He asked. “You're in my house on my turf. I think you should remember your manners.” He was right, of course, but I wasn’t going to start bowing and scraping now. Los Desperados had attacked me and kidnapped me. I had no plans on making nice with them.

Julian stood to his full height and he reached over and opened the door. I was hit with a blast of loud music and a waft of cigarette and weed smoke. It was brighter inside and, for a moment, I was blinded as my eyes adjusted to the light.

While the bar had looked rough and tumble outside, it was actually nice on the inside. It was lit with a bright, but soft light. It was crowded inside and thick with smoke. Men and women sat and stood along a shiny wooden bar drinking and laughing. There were two pool tables in the corner with players deep in the game. At another corner, men were playing dice on the floor, a large pile of bills piling up next to a man holding a set which he let loose and then a cheer went up as he added money.

It wasn’t what I expected from an outlaw biker gang. I had expected some dark, dank hole-in-the-wall, not this lively and bright place. It was done in a light-colored wood with a long bar going along the back wall. There were tables in the middle and a pool table and couches in one corner. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do now and I looked back at Julian who was scanning the crowd. Then he took me by the elbow and led me through the bar and towards a back door. People’s heads turned as we passed and the bar got quieter with every step. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me and the silence was more unnerving than all the noise.

“What you got, Julian?” and older man asked as we approached. He looked like he had lived a hard life; he was thin and his neck was all sinews and faded and stretched tattoos. He was sitting on a stool next to the door a half drunk beer in his hand.

“Captured a Bandit, Tommy” Julian said. “The driver.”

“That ain’t the driver,” Tommy said, burping loudly before continuing, “That’s a chick. Chick’s don’t drive.”

“This one was driving and she was good. She almost got away. She would have gotten away if she weren’t alone.” Julian said. “I’m bringing her to meet Marco.”

Tommy looked me up and down with a sneer and then pounded on the door three times. And then we waited. I was staring at the wooden door in front of me, my heart pounding and the bar behind us near silent. Why hadn’t I tried to escape earlier? Now I was trapped in enemy territory about to have a private meeting with the leader of Los Desperados. If only I had my gun or my knife on me I could make short work of him. But I was defenseless, surrounded and sore all over; my shoulders and chest were beginning to throb from whiplash and my wrists still stung.

The door opened and Julian ushered me inside and sitting there, behind a desk, was Marco. Marco was older, well into his fifties, but he didn’t look old. He looked smart, very smart. He was tall and thin with a head full of white hair and his face was dotted with tattoos. There were two teardrops under his right eye and a figure of Jesus on the cross on his neck. He looked like he had never laughed at a joke or smiled. He looked like a man with little patience and a resolve made out of steel. He looked terrifying.

“Close the door please, Julian,” Marco said. But his eyes were on me and they never left. I heard the door close behind me and the bar that had only moments ago been silent came rushing back to life. I knew everyone out there was talking about me and were eager to see what would happen to me.

“So you’re the driver?” His voice was smooth and even and he stared straight at me as he spoke. “I was surprised when the men came back and said the driver was a woman. I was more surprised that it took you so long to get back,” he finally looked away from me and at Julian and I could see some level of communication happening there. Clearly Marco and Julian knew each other very well.

“Didn’t want to put her in the van with the goods. So I had to tie her up for the ride,” Julian explained.

Marco looked at Julian for a moment as if deciding something and then he nodded and turned to face me. “A Bandit in my clubhouse,” he intoned, his voice deep and cold. I had to suppress a shudder when he spoke to me. But I showed no fear, I stared straight back into his dark eyes with a challenging glare of my own. “What are we going to do with you?”