Reckless: Backsteel Bandits MC (15 page)

In the warm glow of a lantern, the four huddled around the dining room table. Naomi picked olives out of a jar, popping them into her mouth. Jack stood behind her, hands on the back of her chair as Miranda smoothed the map. Tyler stood awkwardly, unwelcome to Miranda's side and a third wheel on Jack's side. He tried to ignore his tenuous placement.

Through the window, he watched the sun descend below the trees. A blanket of blue light filtered across the window and splashed over the trees. Leaves rustled gently and, in the distance, a coyote howled to the open sky.

“So, I've found Pete's taking an awful lot of money out here.” Miranda tapped a spot she circled in pencil on the map. Beside her, the still-open laptop hummed in exertion. “San Marta is about a ten hour drive from here. Got to get through New Mexico and into Texas, but it's on the border.” She leaned over the crisp new map the men had bought at the general store. She smoothed out the folds as she pointed to the town. “Short of weapons, I'm not sure why he'd be withdrawing that much money down there.”

Her gaze flickered to the others, gauging their reactions. Personal pride bubbled through her head. It wasn't every day you got to track down suspicious activity. Well, not when you were a
small town
bank manager.

Naomi's brow creased. She glanced at Jack and Tyler with apprehension. “Has he made any major purchases or gone anywhere?”

Jack and Tyler exchanged glances. They both were thinking the same thing. Pete was known for being stingy and enjoying the comforts of his turf. He rarely overspent and never left Temple, Arizona. Together, they shook their head.

“Someone did say Pete's got a side dish, somewhere.”

“He's cheating on Lillian?” Tyler wrinkled his nose as his lips twisted into a scowl, “What a cuss.”

“That's just what I heard,” Jack shrugged.

Naomi glanced from Miranda to the men. To no one in particular, she asked, “So, what does him withdrawing a lot mean?”

“Pete might be involved with drugs,” muttered Jack. “And if it's drugs, a cartel might be involved.”

Tyler's eyebrows rose. A small tidbit toyed amongst his thoughts. Just before leaving, Pete announced a truce with a rival club. “He did buddy up with the Cobras recently.”

The light went off inside Jack's hand and he added an exuberant, “Yeah, he did, didn't he?”

“Well, if we get to San Marta, we might pick up a scent.” Miranda went on, ignoring the superfluous information. She turned the conversation back on course. They needed to discuss what she found out and make a plan, not discuss the gossip surrounding Pete. This new information may be their only option at survival. “At least I can question the bank manager there, see if they've seen anything weird.”

Tyler's brow furrowed. He wasn't sure how much he enjoyed the thought of Miranda talking to the managers. It would risk her job and her life. Especially if Pete found out.

Before he could voice his concern, though, Naomi butted in, “So, how do we call off Pete's dogs until then?”

“Short of death, will they leave you alone?” Miranda added, turning her attention to the men.

Jack answered with a derisive snort. “Doubtful.”

“Then you guys have to die,” Miranda stated, in a matter-of-fact tone. She hastily added, as shock descended, “Or
appear
to die.”

The twilight kissed the horizon, painting everything with shades of yellow and pink. Jack and Tyler slowly made their way through the airport's parking garage. Airplanes roared in the background, hissing and screaming down runways before thundering into the sky. The noise sliced an edge through Tyler's thoughts.

With every step he took, he recounted the plan in excruciating detail. The women were dropped off at the airport at five, allegedly to board a seven o'clock flight routed to Germany. She'd texted Mike Franklin – Baldie's identity, as relayed by Lloyd – and let him know their pre-determined route out of Legacy.

His heart hiccupped with every movement he made. He hated this plan. It was one thing when his life was on the line. Nothing special would be lost if he died. Jack had Naomi and a kid on the way. Miranda had a job and a life. Everyone else had too much at stake if something in this plan spiraled out of control.

“I don't like this, Jack,” Tyler muttered as he made his way to his hog. He picked up his helmet and plopped it on to his head, wriggling it on. He kept his voice low, not wanting his aversions to echo off the parking garage walls.

Jack nodded, his voice equally low as he swung onto his bike. “I know, Ty.”

“What if something goes wrong?” He saw any number of worst-case scenarios paint the inside of his eyelids. Miranda could have genuinely double-crossed them. The plan could fail, horribly, leaving them meaty streaks on the highway. Lloyd could feel he has more to gain siding with Pete. Tyler's stomach flipped at the very thoughts.

“We need to have faith it'll work out,” Jack sighed.

A pang of guilt licked across the insides of Tyler's thoughts. His brother was just as anxious when it came to Naomi. He couldn't even imagine the strain the thought of the baby put on Jack. For the moment, Tyler could swallow his concerns. Just as he revved his motorcycle to life, Tyler yelled over the reverberated roar, “Yeah, you're right, Jack.”

Together, the two of them peeled out of the parking garage. From the shadows, leather-clad figures stirred. Pulling away from the darkness, a little slower and a little calmer, the strangers exchanged glances. Matching scowls curled their lips into downward arcs. After trading harsh glares and nods, the two men rolled out of the parking lot, heading after Jack and Tyler.

* * *

Silence funneled into the cabin. No one seemed to like the concept of 'having' to die. Even
appearance-wise, it sounded rather permanent and painful. But gears turned in their heads. Faked deaths would certainly get Pete off their butts, even if it were temporary.

“That bald guy said we can turn you in,” Naomi sheepishly stated, as if were treason to reiterate his offer. “I don't think he could handle you both alone, so do you know any other guys in the area?”

“Lloyd and his men.” Tyler answered, nodding his head. A plan was beginning to piece together in his head. If they could get Lloyd in on the scheme, just maybe he and Jack could make it out alive. “Pete still doesn't know Lloyd's double-crossed him.”

“We'll need someone to go with Baldie as he follows you,” stated Miranda, excitement coursing through her veins. Everything was falling into place. They may even pull this off. “Can we count on Lloyd to help?”

Jack and Tyler answered in completely confident unison, “Absolutely.”

“Wait, you said they have to die, Miranda.” Naomi pointed out, worry in her voice. “How do you plan to do that?”

Miranda leaned against the table. She eyed the map she had laid out before them all, her fingers pointing to a well-known, dangerous curve in Legacy. “Back when we were in high school, they shot a big action movie here.”

Tyler's eyes flickered to where her finger pointed. Faint memories tickled at his synapses. Snatches of excited conversations caught in high school hallways ten years ago. “Yeah, everyone was talking about it all senior year.”

“Well, they had this one scene where the car careened off the cliff.” Miranda tapped Deadman's Curve with a fingernail.

“And?” Tyler's memories sputtered. He barely recalled anything from the movie, even though he'd seen it three times before leaving Legacy. He could say what he wanted about the town, but they took pride in what accomplishments they had gained.

Miranda's gaze flickered up and, with a completely serious tone, she said, “We're going to do that with you guys.”

Three voices echoed in complete shock, “What!”

* * *

Around Tyler and Jack, open stretches of nature rolled by. The gentle pinks gave way to deeper reds and, eventually, blueish purples. Just as they reached the checkpoint spot, Tyler caught the sound of foreign motorcycles behind them. He glanced to Jack, who nodded his confirmation. They were being followed.

Hogs roared behind them as they turn onto an empty, country road. Adrenaline raced through Tyler's blood, though he attempted to stifle it. Even though he knew most of the men behind him were Lloyd's buddies, that didn't do anything to assuage his worries. Some of them might be loyal to Pete or part of his out-of-town entourage. The thought sent a chill through his gut. The only bright side was the fact Miranda was safe, away from these men. For now.

Across the dark distance, Jack glanced uncertainly at Tyler. He imperceptibly nodded. Together, they gained speed. Behind them, the choppers roared and snarled through the night air. The rev of increased velocity licked at the air behind them.

A sudden growl ripped through the air and a man, on a smaller-than-average motorcycle, raced up to them. He grabbed at Jack's handlebars. Jack's hog swerved and yanked around. He hissed and cursed, lifting his booted foot up.

CRACK

His heel connected with the man's arm. He yowled in pain, but pulled away from Jack, holding his arm at an awkward angle and steering with one arm.

In his distraction, Tyler didn't notice the biker come up on his left until the pain arched up his side. He hissed, jerking toward the man who had just jammed something against his side. His fist blindly swung out, catching him on the jaw. He went flying, his motorcycle skidding on its side across the road.

Another man came up on Tyler's right, ramming into the side of his hog. Metal on metal shrieked through the evening air. Blunt pain throbbed through his calf, pinned between his motorcycle and the man's boot.

Jack came to Tyler's rescue. He crashed into the side of the offender's motorcycle, slamming his fist in an arch toward the man's helmeted face. He barely had the time to ease on his gas and slam on his break. He slunk backward behind the two of them just as the warning sign for Dead Man's Curve cropped up.

It was an old sign, bleached from the sun and nearly obscured by dust. The words 'Dead Man's Curve' peeled across it. Below it, added later and in a different font, were the words: Proceed with caution.

Few braved the curve at night. But, pursued by other bikers, it would make a great escape route. Deadman's Curve skirted a cliff face that dropped, sharply, down to the raging rivers fifty feet below. Pursuers would be forced to slow down.

However, that wasn't how it'd play out for Jack and Tyler.

They made a show of pumping on their breaks. Then they frantically tried to slam their breaks, pumping the handle viciously. Their shocked screams tore through the air as they watched the mangled, incoming guardrail close in on them. The bikes roared passed the broken metal, tire treads spinning on thin air. For a split second, their motorcycles arched through the air, roaring in flight. Jack and Tyler scrambled out of their seats, jumping back toward the cliff side.

They barely landed on the cliff face, their hands scrabbling for a handhold. Behind them, their beloved hogs – sacrificed for Miranda, Naomi, and a yet to be named child – crashed and exploded against the opposite cliff. The scent of gasoline and fire burned through the air. The flames blinded the men for a brief second, the heat licking on their backs. The creak of melted metal and the clatter of shrapnel made Jack and Tyler hunch against the wall. The bulk of their bikes bounced down the cliff side, metal shrieking as rock caught the body.

Their landing shifted, their feet scrabbling against breaking rock. There were no footholds, no handholds. There was only one way to go.

Down they fell, cold air embracing them and gravity tugging them. They screamed and slid against the rocks. Terror clamped on Tyler's lungs. Tearing fabric and falling rocks and whooshing air filled his ears. Pain skittered along his body wherever he dragged against the jagged cliff. All he could think of was Miranda. If this crazy scheme didn't work, would she be all right? Would Naomi be okay without Jack?

Despite his fright, Tyler's ears picked out the splash as the bodies of both bikes slammed into the river below – a watery requiem for their dead motorcycles.

The sound fueled his fear. He didn't want to die. Not now, not with Miranda here. Not with a reason to actually try.

* * *

The three crowded in front of Miranda's laptop. An old behind-the-scenes website flashed across the screen. The design was dated and half of the pictures were little boxes with a red 'x' slashed through them. She pointed to the passage she had highlighted with her mouse. “There were tons of precautions put into place for the car scene.”

Naomi's head listed to the side, a curious lilt to her voice. “Wouldn't they use CGI?”

“You'd think, but this crew didn't.” Miranda shrugged. She didn't know anything about movies, let alone the maintenance to create one. In theory, it would have been cheaper to use CGI, but the director may have wanted authenticity. Or, perhaps, they didn't have enough in the budget for fancy graphics. “They dug out a tunnel into the cliff face and strung a rope net between two huge rocks. The tunnel had to be hidden from above for the camera view.”

She pointed to the few pictures that were still housed on the site: a picture of the rigged net and a stagehand lounging happily against the ropes, a bird's eye view of the canyon, showing off how hidden the tunnel was. The only indication anything was under the outcrop was the hand playfully flicking off the camera holder.

“Is it safe?” Naomi asked. Miranda could already hear the frantic mother rising in her tone.

“As far as I know, Kids still hang out in it.”

“Mir, that is an insane plan! Basically, you want us to jump off our hogs and try to land in a net.”

“Not to mention, what happens to our choppers?”

Tension fell across the table. Miranda's expression became steely and somber as she leered at Tyler and Jack. Their motorcycles would have to be a willing sacrifice for their lives. Tyler pushed away from the table, slicing his hands through the air. “Nuh-uh, no way am I doing that to Gloria!”

Miranda cocked an eyebrow. 'Gloria'? Well, that was the first time she ever heard him use that when referring to his motorcycle. Suppressing her grin of amusement, she masterfully scowled at Tyler. “You'll do it if you want to live.”

“But Gloria and Selena?” Jack's voice bordered on a whine and he backed away from the table. Naomi whipped around in her chair and shot him a glare. Her hand fell obviously to her stomach in an obvious action. He glanced down at her, eyebrows arched upward, before his eyes sought out Tyler.

He firmly glared at Miranda. Part of him couldn't believe she expected that big of a sacrifice. Another part of him sniffed at his hypocrisy. A life, a job, her family. Miranda risked a lot just to stay by his side thus far. It was only fair he had to give up something.

It was Jack's defeated mutter than pushed him over the edge, “They have a point, Ty.”

Tyler closed his eyes and deeply inhaled until his lungs hurt. He wasn't sure about Jack. Maybe it was easier for him to sacrifice his hog, especially for a kid. Tyler's motorcycle had been the first big purchase he made after leaving Legacy. It had been the only consistent thing in his otherwise chaotic life. His brain writhed. He had something else he could cling to for consistency. He heaved a sigh and opened his eyes. Locking his gaze to Miranda, he begrudgingly muttered, “Okay.”