Devil's Fall: Dust Bowl Devils MC (4 page)

He liked taller girls. He liked the way they thought the extra height gave them extra power, extra authority. He especially liked how grateful they were to encounter a man that was actually taller than them, who could take that imagined power and authority and smash it to dust. This one was eye-level with his nose - a goddamn miracle for a lady of her stature. He kept those thoughts to himself, though.

Instead, he sighed. Having drained all his irritation and pent-up energy the night before he was feeling a little more hospitable. “Come on,” he said, “No one’s around. You can use the bathrooms. Then maybe you can show me that picture again.”

He wasn’t sure why he offered. Maybe his father’s words had gotten to him - the ones about never doing anything for anyone but himself. Then again, looking down at the cautious pout of her lips, he had other, less altruistic thoughts intruding on his tired brain.

She hesitated but ultimately followed him as he wheeled his bike across the road and into the parking lot.

“I didn’t catch your name,” she said.

“’Cause I didn’t tell you,” he said over his shoulder, then, “Call me Gunner.”

“Gunner. I’m Senna.”

“Huh.” Under normal circumstances he would dismiss her name as unimportant information, but that one was different enough to remember. “Senna,” he repeated. “What’s that?”

“Some plant. Yellow flowers. My mom was kind of a hippie.”

The club was empty inside - even the cleaning crew was elsewhere. He led Senna straight past the stage and through the back doors that led to a hallway and his little back office. “So who’s that a picture of?” She frowned. “You gotta give me a little information before I can give you anything back.”

“Her name’s Aster. She’s my sister.” He wasn’t surprised. Most of the photo-carriers were looking for family. But some were stalkers. It was policy to just turn them all away - less potential for mess.

Gunner was hardly a stickler for policy, though. “Let me see,” he said. She handed him the photo. It
was
the girl he’d suspected it was when he’d given the photo a half-glance before. She was blonder, now, and went by a different name - and was not working at the club.

He couldn’t tell Senna that, though. If this girl didn’t want to be found, it wasn’t his business to butt in. Maybe he’d feel things out, though, depending on how generous his mood was later. “Are you twins?”

“She’s two years younger.”

They looked similar - the same straight nose and hazel eyes. “Bathroom’s in the back,” he gestured, “Sign’s on the door. I’ll be in the office here.”

Gunner heard voices back out in the main room, so after she disappeared down the hall he stepped back out near the stage. Jupiter was there giving some guy the grand tour.

“What the fuck is this?” Gunner called.

“New business partner,” Jupiter said. “Bill sent him down.”

Oh. “Trouble.”
Sure enough, when Jupiter and the man turned to survey the bar, the stranger was flying the Northern Eagles colors. It would be one thing to invite an outsider inside, show him the ropes, get friendly. It was another to walk in with a rival.
Bill sent him here to die.
But why?
His fingers itched with anticipation.

And the man knew it. Gunner had no pokerface; for all his faults he was an awful liar and an utter failure at deception. So the moment he realized what this was about, the air around him filled with tension, and soon the rest of the room with it.

The Eagle inched away from Jupiter. “Listen, man, I don’t know what’s going on here, but-”

“They sent you down to co-manage the place,” the old man said, shooting a glare towards Gunner. “Eagles and Devils working together, right? You were there at the party, weren’t you?”
Party? What the fuck is going on?

“I was.” He seemed to relax just a fraction but he still kept a wider distance between them.

“So we’re all friends here,” Jupiter said. The words were barely out of his mouth when he pulled his gun and shot the man in the head in one smooth motion. Blood and bits of gore exploded out the back of his skull, a mist of it lingering in the air well after he’d hit the ground.

Gunner grimaced; the sudden violence was unexpected and it was too early in the morning to process. “Goddamn, that was cold.”

“You spooked him. I wanted to do it over the kitchen sink.” Jupiter tucked his gun away. “You weren’t supposed to be here,” he said, “Didn’t Bill warn you this was going down?”

“Barely,” Gunner muttered. Bill’s warning had been a lot vaguer than “I’m sending a man down to Heaven’s Highway to die at six in the morning.”
And since when did we start executing people? What the hell is going on?
This wasn’t the Dust Bowl Devil’s style.
Another change. Not good.
It left a bad taste in his mouth.

“What’s this about a party?” Gunner asked. His lip curled at the sight of the man’s blood soaking into the floorboards. His mind flipped through the options for getting it cleaned up; Bill hadn’t been kidding about having a mess to deal with. He walked around the body, considering the best way to get it out of the building.

“Bill didn’t tell you? He’s working with the Eagles. Trying out a few jobs, talking about some sort of partnership.” Jupiter grunted. “This guy was just some fat they had to trim. He wanted it done out of town.”

“Eagles. He’s working with the Eagles.” It was never a good sign when Gunner repeated himself. It meant his brain was getting stuck in an angry loop and the only way to break it was with violence. The Northern Eagles. The rivals they’d had a motherfucking
shootout
with two years ago, the details of which were still hazy to him. He’d been in the dizzying fog of a concussion when it went down; it ended with a bullet in his thigh. He rubbed the spot now, the muscle still tight and sore sometimes all this time later.

Something else nagged at his tired brain.

Oh. Shit.
Senna. In the excitement of the moment, he’d forgotten about the girl. “Something wrong?” Jupiter asked as, once again, Gunner couldn’t keep a single thought off his face.

“None of your business,” he grumbled, jabbing the body with his toe. “Wait here.”

He checked the back office. No sign of her. He checked the bathroom - every single stall, slamming the doors back while mentally cursing himself - nothing, nobody. But sunlight leaked in through the back door - it was cracked open. Someone had passed through.
Shit.
He glanced back up the hall, towards the room where Jupiter waited.
Get rid of the body or go after the girl?
Bill had assigned him to clean up the mess, but Senna was part of that mess now. He shook his head. They couldn’t have the cops coming down on the place. He had to get to her before she called the cavalry.
If it isn’t too late already.
He called back through the door, “Get Yards out here. We’ve got a little problem.”

Oh, God. He shot him. He SHOT him. And I saw it, I saw it, I saw the whole thing…
Senna took a deep breath and gripped the steering wheel tight; she’d emerged just in time to see an old man shoot that other man in the head while Gunner just stood back and watched. She’d gotten the hint that he was a criminal, what with the gang colors and all, but
murder?
She stepped on the gas.

She’d almost reached a more populated area of town when she heard the unmistakable roar of a motorcycle engine behind her. Panic welled in her chest.
I’ve got to ditch the van.
But it was all she had - if she ditched it, she’d be on the streets. Literally. She slammed the steering wheel with her palms. All she’d wanted to do was find Aster and deliver the warning she needed to pass on before hitting the road, running and disappearing, with or without her sister. She shook her head. It was time to push thoughts of the family and of Aster away - time to take care of herself before she ended up dead at the hands of an angry biker.
But how? Can he be reasoned with?

The bike was closer. She could see him in her rearview mirror, approaching, speeding up behind her, clad all in black. It sent a shiver down her spine.
Death comes for me. He’s going to kill me.
It wasn’t just fear, though - images of him catching her, taking her in other ways invaded her mind, flashes of flesh and sweat and -
Stop it! He’s here to murder you, are you out of your mind?!

She pulled out her phone. She should have done this a mile back but she hadn’t been thinking clearly. All she could see was her own head bursting open in a cloud of red as they shot her for what she’d seen.

A loud
bang
followed by the van swerving madly made her drop the device. It slid somewhere under the seat as she struggled to regain control of the vehicle, but it was too late - it skid and and it slid to the right, tipping dangerously as it bounced off the asphalt and into the grass ditch. She didn’t scream; she gripped the wheel, hit the brakes, closed her eyes, and waited for impact, waited for the protective bubble of the van to crumple around her. Instead it rolled to a stop and paused at an odd angle, teetering there, waiting to tip one way or the other depending on the whims of the wind. Finally it settled back on its tires with a groan. She breathed a sigh of relief.

But her relief was short-lived - a pair of hands plunged through her open window and hit the button on her seatbelt before grabbing her by the upper arms and dragging her from the car. She breathed in leather, sweat, bar smells.
Gunner.
He planted her on her feet with her back against the car door. “You shouldn’t have run off.”

“You shot out my tire.” How she managed to keep her voice so calm, she didn’t know. Maybe it was from years of practice dealing with explosive family members. Maybe fear was useless to her now that she was caught.
He’ll shoot me and these nightmare weeks will be over. I only wish I’d reached Aster first. Oh, God…
“I didn’t see anything.”

“Oh?” His voice was soft, which was somehow held a more dangerous note than when he’d been angry with her the day before.

“I heard a gunshot and I ran,” she said, “That was all. I didn’t
want
to see anything.”
But I saw, I saw.
She kept her face still.

“I can’t believe you,” he said, taking her jaw in his hand and tilting her head to look up at him. “You know how this works.”

An odd sort of relief washed over her, then. It would be an ignoble end, there in the ditch on the side of the road, all her belongings in the van next to her, but it was an end. No more running. Escaping one man who wanted to capture and potentially kill her was difficult enough - two would be impossible.
I’m sorry, Aster. I tried.
She’d be next if and when they found her.

Gunner’s brows furrowed. “You’re not gonna freak out?”

“Am I supposed to?” she asked, holding eye contact. She didn’t think she had it in her. She
was
afraid - scared to death, actually - but though her hands and her knees trembled, though her heart pounded so hard it hurt, none of it bubbled to the surface. If nothing else, her upbringing had taught her how to keep her cool no matter what.

He released her jaw and took off his sunglasses, revealing those blue eyes she’d found so distracting. Something like regret crosses his face. “Most people do.”

If he’s going to take his damn time then I’m gonna take my chance.
She brought her knee up as hard as she could, slamming it into his groin. He grunted with surprise and took half a step back.
Shit!
She’d hoped it would make him drop to the ground just like all the movies promised, just like that one-week self-defense class had suggested. But he didn’t drop. He grabbed her elbow as she tried to dart past, wrenching her around. She cried out as his fingers dug in with bruising force.

“That’s enough. You had to try, but that’s enough.” He dragged her further down the ditch, away from the van and away from the road.
Away from where anyone will find me.
Dread formed a tight ball in her gut.
Is this really happening?
Her limbs felt like lead. She was lying to herself, she didn’t feel relief here so close to death. She wanted to stop running but she wanted to live.