Ride Me Away (13 page)

Today would be the first time I went back to my apartment since I’d been released from the station. Jag tagged along just to make sure everything was all right and I was ready to go back.

When we got there and I opened the door, the secure feeling he had built inside of me all came crashing down. My place was a mess. My clothes were thrown everywhere. Mirrors were broken. Couches were flipped over and gutted.

“
Shit,
” Jag muttered under his breath. I was speechless.

We walked through what was left of my things, allowing the realization to sink in. This had to have been Ryan.

“This was that guy from the bar, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah…” I murmured.

“He better hope I never see him again. Come on, it’s not safe here. You can stay at my place until we fix this shit.”

I stared at the wreckage for a moment longer before turning to follow Jag into the elevator.

Jag had to get back to his daily duties with the club, and I understood. Rodney didn’t want him bringing me along with him. He was making it obvious that I wasn’t trusted.

I found another job quickly this time. I didn’t want to be left alone at Jag’s house, even though he assured me everything would be fine. Any normal person would have pulled out of this mission the moment they walked into their trashed apartment. I couldn’t do that.

This time, I was pouring coffee at some bougie café for the rich snobs that I worked so hard to protect. They forced me to wear long sleeves, covering up my tattoos and my identity. Otherwise, I would “scare off their clientele.”

Whatever. I complied. I wasn’t ready to spend tiresome days searching for someone else to hire me.

Then one day, Governor Prat came into the café. My ears perked immediately. He was talking quietly with his secretary. I quickly tossed my apron aside and pretended to leave through the front door, making sure I wasn’t seen. Instead, I turned around and got in line behind him.

“Is my speech ready for next week?”

“The one addressing Bill 420?” she replied.

“Yeah,” he began speaking quietly. “There’s some…
serious pressure
to make sure that it passes.”

Bill 420,
I thought. I wasn’t familiar with that one. I took a mental note to look into it later.

“All right, sir. I’ll make sure it’s prepared by the end of the day.”

“Good,” he spoke at a normal volume once again.

I turned around and left quietly, taking the opportunity to use my fifteen minute break to walk over to the library across the street.

When I got there, I sat down at a computer and began searching for
Bill 420
. The results were shocking. How could I have not put the pieces together earlier? This was the bill they were trying to pass to legalize marijuana throughout the entire state.

The thousands of weed plants, the bag of cash, the bribery investigation… it all made perfect sense now. The Satan’s Saviors wanted to control the legal drug trade, reaping the benefits of a massively increased market.

I was supposed to meet Jag at the Angel Saloon after work that day, since I didn’t get off until at least seven. We were going to grab a beer then head somewhere low-key for dinner.

The rest of the day I spent stuck in my head, unsure of where to go with this next. I knew that what I had seen in that basement was big enough that I’d have to report it to Jackson, but I needed to find a way to save Jag from it and get him out, first.

I thought long and hard about the possibilities, but they all lead to me having to tell him the truth—to me having to tell him my big secret. I wasn’t ready for that. I didn’t know if I ever would be.

When I pulled my bike up to the Saloon, I parked it next to Jag’s and walked around to the entrance. It was pitch black out tonight. There was no moon; no stars. The only light came from the street and the small lamp they had illuminating the entrance.

As I extended a hand to push the swinging western door open, I noticed someone on their way out. I stepped to the side and made room for them.

It was Buster.
Fuck, what’s he doing here again?

“Well, hello there, sweet pea,” he said, tucking a cigarette between his lips.

“Get outta here, scumbag,” I said and tried to walk past him.

“Where you think you’re goin’?” he asked as he reached for my hip again. I slapped his hand away and took a step back.

“Don’t touch me.”

“I’ll touch whoever I wanna touch,
whore
.”

He continued to stand in the way as he lit his cigarette. I didn’t really feel like dealing with this shit, so I tried the second door. As soon as I began pushing it open, he lunged at me, throwing one hand up to cover my mouth and the other around my back to hold me in place. The ash from his cigarette trickled down my shirt and burned my skin as it fell from his lips.

I tried throwing him off and kicking, but I didn’t have enough room to get any leverage. My heart was racing and my body was going into a panic as my screams were muffled by his hand.

He pinned me against the wall by the door and his hand found its way lower, rubbing my pants over top my clit. I hoped for Jag—for anyone to see me and help.

“Hey, let go of her!” I heard a familiar voice from behind him.

The sound of a man running toward us was like music to my ears. Buster let go of me and tried to run.

Ryan?
What the hell is he doing here?

Ryan tackled Buster to the ground and they wrestled as Buster tried to escape. Ryan put a knee into his back, forcing a painful
oompf
out of Buster as he collapsed to the ground.

The door to the bar opened beside me and Jag walked out, calmly bringing his cell phone to his cheek. He looked at the struggle happening beside him, then at me before putting his phone away.

“What the hell’s this?” he asked.

“Buster…”

“Fucking hell.”

Jag threw Ryan to the side and lifted Buster to his feet. Ryan stood up next to them, panting from the struggle as he dusted his pants off. Jag pinned Buster up against the wall and leaned in close to his face.

“I thought I told you to stay away from her, you piece of shit.”

He threw Buster back to the ground and kicked him in the ribs before turning to Ryan.

“And you too. What the hell are you doing here, prick?”

“That’s not important right now.”

“Sure as hell it is! Are you following her?”

Ryan didn’t respond. Jag threw a punch, but Ryan just barely dodged it. He retaliated with a quick left hook and it blindsided Jag, causing him to stumble.

Buster took this opportunity to scramble to his feet and run away as fast as he could.

Once Jag got his footing, Ryan was standing, ready for a fight. I couldn’t risk Ryan winning, so wrapped my arms around him from behind, attempting to surprise him and render him less mobile. Jag seized the opportunity and got two hard hits in while Ryan tried to throw me off.

I wasn’t strong enough to hold on for long, and Ryan threw me to the ground, sprinting off just as fast as he had come. Jag rushed to my side and helped me back onto my feet.

“You all right?” he asked through his already swollen lips.

“Yeah, I should be fine.”

I held onto Jag as tight as I could, and he wrapped his arms around me. It was the only place I felt safe anymore.

Jag held me for a few minutes until I relaxed again. Then he pulled out his cell phone and began dialing.

“Call the boys. We’re doing it tonight.”

Then he hung up.

“Kim, this will be the last night that you have to worry about that bastard Buster.”

I didn’t like the sound of this. I knew enough to know that Jag wouldn’t need backup to take care of Buster himself. He had something bigger than that in mind.

We got on our motorcycles and headed down the street for the clubhouse. The other outlaws showed up, one by one, shortly after us.

“You sure you want to do this tonight?” one of them asked Jag.

“Yeah.”

“Hold on, let’s check in with Rex first. We can’t just go in there without any intel. They might not even be there,” Rodney said as he pulled his phone from his pocket. He dialed a number.

“Rex, what’s the low-down on the Reapers?”

We all waited quietly as Rodney listened to his response.

“Perfect, thanks Rex. We’ll drop off a nice care package for you one of these days.”

Rodney hung up the phone.

“Let’s go. They’re having a party.”

The crowd of men released a primal cheer at the good news. They grabbed whatever guns they could; rifles, pistols, SMGs. Things were about to get bloody.

Jag turned back to me, “Buster is going to wish he kept his hands off of you.”

“This is about me?!” I whispered.

“We’ve had a score to settle with these guys for a long time, Kim. Buster’s just a damn good reason to go all out on these fuckers.”

He handed me a pistol, an AK, and a black ski mask before walking past me to follow the other men.

Jesus.
How could I go on so many missions throughout a career and always easily slip below the radar, then all of a sudden, I meet one guy and shit falls to pieces like this?

We all piled into two large black vans with no windows in the back. Immediately, I noticed that I was the only girl they’d brought along, but that only made sense by how they’d all acted last time there was a shootout. I sat beside Jag and across from Rodney.

“You with us here?” he said.

“Yeah,” I replied, nodding emphatically.

“Good.”

He let his eyes linger on me for a second longer before turning to the rest of the group.

“Everybody remembers the plan?” Rodney spoke with authority.

“Yeah,” the men echoed over each other.

We drove for about thirty minutes before the ride got bumpy. My heart rate increased, but my training allowed me to remain calm. This would be my second time being involved in a real shootout, and I was not looking forward to it. I much preferred sneaking around and getting clear shots. Dodging bullets wasn’t exactly my forte.

“Here we are, boys!” the driver yelled back to us.

I took a look through the front window and saw a well-lit house just up the road before we took a right turn and disappeared behind some brush. The van stopped and the doors opened. It was on.

One after another, the men pulled their ski masks over their faces and piled out. Since I hadn’t been let in on their plan, I had no choice but to follow their lead.

We left the vans at the road and quickly made our way through the blackness that encompassed the foliage. Nobody said a word.

We stopped about two-hundred meters from their clubhouse, ducking low in the ditch beside the road. We were close enough to hear the thumping of the bass coming from their party.

Outside, there were three men carrying rifles and laughing. I assumed they were supposed to be on watch, but they were more concerned about their conversation than trying to spot us. Not that they would have been able to see us in the blackness, anyway.

I watched as the Saviors laid down on the side of the ditch, not yet showing themselves over the top of the road. I got in line beside Jag and readied my rifle.

“Everyone ready?” Rodney spoke in a normal voice.

I took a deep breath, awaiting his signal.

“Let’s do it.”

The Saviors around me began crawling their way up the side of the ditch until only their heads were showing. We took aim.

“Let’s wreck these bitches.”

The deafening sound of gunfire numbed my ears. I knew I had to join in, but I had no reason to be killing tonight. With the muzzles flashing all around me, the clubhouse in the distance began bleeding. I began unloading my gun into the concrete base of the house.

The three men out front fell to the ground and the lights that had once given the clubhouse a bright glow were slowly being extinguished one by one.

Soon, the plaster walls began crumbling off in chunks as hundreds of rounds bit into the drywall. Off to the right, I saw one of us running up closer to the building. He got close enough, then hurled what I could only assume to be a grenade up at the building.