For Your Sake (4 page)

              She was facing away from him.  Good.  Better that way.  Right hand went behind his back, retrieving his revolver with the screwed on silencer he had stashed in the waistband of his jeans and pointed it at her head.              “Me too, sis.”  They were the last three words she heard before he dispatched a bullet into her skull. “Me too.”

Screwing off the silencer, Ben shoved the revolver back in his shoulder holster before storming out of the shop, passing the two prospects.  “Clean it up,” he ordered before heading towards his bike.  It was pure black and chrome with no fussy adornments save for a meticulously airbrushed replica of the club’s back patch – a hooded skeleton on a motorcycle brandishing a gun done up in the club’s colors of red, black and gray. 

From the doorway to the clubhouse, Vic silently stood, waiting for an acknowledgement.  As he pulled away from the line of bikes, Ben halted in front of his president and nodded.  Vic replied in kind before turning to go back inside.  Going home was not an option right now.  It never was after a kill.  This one more than ever.  He needed to clear his head before unruly thoughts got the best of him.

He headed towards the highway

Chapter Two

The drive south down US 40 was serene as it was that twilight time when most people were cleaning up supper dishes, turning newspaper pages or getting homework started.  The tiny cemetery was located right between Weirton and Wellsburg and, at the time, Eva couldn’t fathom why her father purchased his plot there.  It was a strange wish to be buried almost two towns over, but when she finally saw the place she had understood. 

It was out of the way and un-crowded, with hideous electrical lines criss-crossing one end to the other.  Hancock County Electric, at times, was called upon to cover surrounding county service calls when the demand outweighed the supply.  No doubt her dad had worked these lines and wanted to be buried beneath the one thing which sustained him.  Which kept their little family together. Which provided sustenance when everything felt bleak. Which stretched tight to help pay for business school and provided when he suffered an on-the-job heart attack while way up one of those poles.

Gripping the top of the steering wheel, a sterling silver disc dangled from a matching chain bracelet similar to that of a Tiffany style.  Eva reached with her other hand to rub it - her thumb grazing over the inscription whose meaning was everything to her. The gift from her father on her Sweet Sixteen was also accompanied by the hard truth of her mother's departure. 
“I’ve cushioned it all these years, Eva
,” he had told her on her milestone birthday. 
“You were too young to comprehend what happened or why.  Your mother left to be with a man she had an affair with years earlier.  I begged her to stay – that I would forgive her.  But she said she had to do this.  The last thing she told me was to take care of you.  And I did, but not because she told me to.  Everything I did was for your sake.  Because you were all I had.  Because I love you.”

Eva never failed to tear up when she remembered her father’s words, especially when she had opened the box containing the very same bracelet she rarely, if ever, took off.  The simple inscription, three words which meant the world, brought everything full circle. 

Pulling off 40, she headed along a narrow stretch of dimly lit road.  Sprawling mountains scaled up the right, while a long stretch of field ran down the left.  It was difficult to enjoy any kind of scenery from a car as The Mountain State deflected anything that couldn't be seen at least five hundred feet above ground.  The narrow roads left little room to have had adequate lighting installed which left only the full moon aiding Eva’s night vision. They weren’t the best driving conditions, but Eva was determined to make it. Today would’ve been her dad’s sixtieth birthday to which he died six months shy of it.  Nothing was going to keep her from her destination.  Another woman wasn't going to abandon her father.

Through the haze of her headlights, she saw a swirling circle of smoky mist in the field to the left as she came around a bend.  Only when she got close enough that Eva realized it wasn't a mist, but dust - a large cloud of it as it was kicked up from a motorcycle which was riding fast and hard out of the field, directly across the road in front of her.

And straight into the mountainside.

"What the hell?"

Those words echoed inside her Jeep Grand Cherokee as she swerved to avoid a collision.  Sharp reflexes kicked in as she turned the steering wheel to keep her skidding car from doing a complete one eighty.  Loud exhaust sputtering out of straight pipes suddenly quieted, replaced by the sound of another set of screeching tires before the sickening sound of metal hitting pavement.  Or…..was it the impact of the mountain, which seemed to be the rider’s target?  No.  No way.  He had to be blinded by her headlights and misjudged the turn.  That had to be it.

Her concentration on controlling her own vehicle, Eva was unable to witness what actually happened.  Her tires finally came to a halt when her right fender hit a boulder at the base of the mountain, twenty five yards from where the rider and his bike went down.  After finally gaining control, she shook the cobwebs from her head and searched for her purse where it slid off the passenger seat.  Rummaging through it, she opened the telephone keypad then got out of the car.  Despite what just happened, it was eerily quiet with the exception of a hooting owl and the faint howl of a coyote.  Shit.

"Hey!" She ran over, thumb poised and ready to press 9-1-1.  The heels of her black boots hit hard against the pavement while clutching a denim jacket tight over a black and white print dress.  "Are you okay?  Do you want me to call......?"

Eva's thought process stopped as the rider rose from the carnage.  The light breeze seemed to have carried over the dust from the adjacent field.  Out of it he walked, a large, looming figure through a murky haze, seemingly unscathed.  The brilliantly lit moon shone down on the road below allowing her to take in the initial sight of him.  The man was built like the mountain he skidded into.  Tall.  No, tall was an understatement.  Tall was six feet in her mind, especially compared to her own five-seven frame.  He was that plus several more, which balanced out a body which was wide and rock solid.  A white t-shirt under a gray, denim button-up further covered by a black leather vest sporting rectangular patches.

Leather.  Patches.  Motorcycle.

He was one of
them
.

She watched him survey the wreck he had caused – or she had caused – until he saw her running over.  His look froze her in place while he advanced.  The natural reaction would be to turn, run and lock herself in her Jeep, but Eva couldn’t move as this large man she almost collided with was practically draped over her within moments.  Strong jaw, golden skin, trimmed goatee, dirty-blonde hair shaved above both ears while the rest was pulled tight into a nub of a ponytail at the back of his head.  A broad chest flanked by a pair of biceps tested the material of his shirt. One side of his vest sported a patch which read
Mountain Skulls
.  The other read
Three Deadly Sins
.   Eva was familiar with base scripture to know there were seven and wondered which of the three these bikers decided to honor.  The cell in her hand almost slipped out from the sweat accumulating on her palms. 

"What the fuck, darlin’?"  The question was laced with a hard bite.  "You see where you're going?"

The phone finally slipped from her hand, the protective case keeping it from shattering on the pavement. 
Back up, Eva
, her mind said. 
This guy's riled enough.  Just let it go
.  He obviously thought it was her fault, and, for a moment, believed him.  But she was driving normal, doing the twenty-five mile per hour speed limit along the tight turn of the mountainside, while he cut her off, riding straight across the road doing about fifty.  Accused of something which clearly wasn’t her fault cut through her sensible thoughts.  "
Me
?  You cut me off.  You rode straight across the road, right into the......"

"Hey!"
  That word was heavy with threat.  Long legs in wrapped in Wranglers brought him so close to her personal space that Eva’s heart seemed to stop.  He looked as if he sprouted several more inches the closer he got.  Eyes the color of whiskey under dark blonde brows narrowed with warning.  "I'd be careful what comes out of that sweet mouth next.  This is how it goes down - what you just saw, you forget.  Tell me you understand?"

Something took control over Eva's body because it wasn't her own reflexes which made her head instantly nod up and down.  This guy was pissed, but it wasn't about her allegedly cutting him off. 

"Good."  His one word answer accompanied a visual sweep up and down her body before he jerked his head towards her car.  "Now get outta here."

Just then, that lone owl hooted above as if urging her to take his advice and book.  But she stood there, as if waiting to see if he'd turn and go first.  He didn't.  He stood as still as a statue giving her a hard stare which sent a message.  He wasn't going anywhere until she left.

Slowly she bent down to pick up her phone, careful not to take her eyes off him.  One step at a time she walked backwards, not even wanting to turn her back on him.  Ever since she was eight years old this motorcycle club had been a strange fixture in Tippitt.  Their straight pipes were nothing more than white noise in the distance, though no less unnerving.  Sitting in class, doing homework at the kitchen table, hanging with friends at Tippitt ‘n Sip-It Coffee Shop or her standing Sunday afternoon pizza date with her dad, the faint rumble of Harleys had always pricked her ears  - much like the coyote who let out another anguished howl at the moon above.  Other than their formation passing down the street from the time she left for school at eighteen to pulling into the plaza where she opened her card and gift shop six months ago, she had never physically ran into any of them. 

Now twenty four years later, she did just that - literally. Now wasn’t the time to argue with a man who had more than a hundred pounds, eight to ten inches and a whole lot of piss in him. 

"Tonight, darlin’."

Her teeth clenched at that endearment, now delivered twice with dripping sarcasm, but this time she wisely kept her mouth shut.  Quickening her backwards pace until her bottom hit the hood of her Jeep, she pivoted and got inside.  Through the windshield she saw him, still not moving a muscle as she started the ignition as a car made its way around the bend, barely missing where she had parked.  Great - where was a passer-by when she needed one?

U-turning in the road, she headed in the opposite direction.  Towards Tippitt.  Towards home.  She didn't want to chance this guy following her to a cemetery at night. 
"Sorry, dad."
 

~~~***~~~

              Clearing his head after a kill was routine for Ben.  But last night it turned out to be disastrous.

              He never even made it to his bed, instead collapsing on the living room couch.  Stretching his huge body he finally got up, his mere presence dwarfing the cottage style rental.  And just like his bike and person, it was simply stated.  A small flat screen television with basic cable was the only electronic he owned.  Not a computer.  Not a toaster.  Not even a coffee maker.  The hang-arounds always kept it brewing at the clubhouse as well as took turns tossing together something edible in the kitchen.  If not, he either found himself in his favorite corner booth at Ziggy’s or got one of the girls to make a food and pussy house call, if needed.

Clean.  Neat.  Uncluttered, with the barest of necessities.  No plants on the verge of drying up, magazines or even a throw pillow.   Not a picture on the wall, a photo frame on a table or mementos of any kind.  There wasn’t anything nostalgic about his childhood to warrant scattering evidence of it around him.  Never having a ‘real’ home, populating his current living status seemed like a waste of time.  He’d probably still be holed up on one of the clubhouse dorms, but he began to crave privacy.  Plus, he was five years shy of forty and living like a frat boy wasn’t going to fly. The simple structure was nothing but a roof over his head as well as a place to sleep, shower and the occasional fuck.  Referring to it as ‘home’ was a joke.

              Desperately needing a shower, he pulled his filthy clothes off on the way to bathroom, tossing them in a basket in the hallway. Pushing the beige liner aside, he turned the spray on as hot as he could stand it before stepping in.   For a minute or two he just stood there, leaning against the cool, fiberglass wall and let the hot water seep into his pores before grabbing the gold bar of Dial to wash away the previous night.

              Pulling on boxers and jeans, he sat on the edge of his bed which was still made.  The brown and black plaid comforter was smoothed flat and pillows perfectly stacked against the wall as he had no head or footboard.  Balancing elbows on both knees, he leaned forward.  The events of last night left a bad taste in mouth and an even more vile feeling in his chest.  Not killing his own sister, but playing some sick game of chicken with the side of a mountain. That wasn’t on the agenda.  Nor was having an eye witness to it.

              Ben immediately saw her, remembering the bright moon and headlights leaving nothing to wonder.  Dark hair, brilliant blue eyes, decent legs he could tell from what her boots and dress didn’t cover, their length indicating she had some height.  He was surprised she got out of her car on a dark mountainside road, with no kind of protection from what he could gather, to see if he was alright.  But he wasn’t.  At least not mentally.  He allowed his guilt to put him in a bad place as he drove down US40 until he found himself in that field.  Alone.  Eerily quiet save for a couple of coyotes in the distance.  All that was between him and the mountain facing him across the road was guts.  He planned on pulling away at the last minute.