Spiritwalk (9 page)

2

Blue and Emma stopped in at her place so that she could change into clothing more suitable for the bush, then headed off to the Dragons’ farmhouse, Blue leading the way, Emma following in her car. At the turnoff to the farmhouse, Blue kept right on going. He didn’t stop until they were well beyond the buildings. Pulling his bike off the road, he indicated to Emma that she should just park by the side. When she joined him, she was carrying the shotgun.

The spot Blue had chosen had a good vantage point from which they could overlook the farm. He gave the place a slow once-over with the binoculars, marking the various cars and bikes parked on the lawn and by the barn. There were some rusted hulks off to one side of the barn, but the Mustang was there, right in front of the house, along with a pickup truck and a beat-up Trans Am. He counted nine bikes. Four or five Dragons were lounging on the farmhouse’s porch. There’d be more inside, he knew.

“The car’s there,” he said, turning back to Emma.

“What are we going to do?”

Blue rubbed his face. “Play it by ear, I guess. There’s too many of them for me to take them head-on—best to wait until it gets dark, anyway. I’ll go down then, see if I can sneak her out, or maybe get the drop on them.”

“What about me?”

“I wanted you to keep watch. If things get hairy, I need you to get out of here and go for help. I’ve got a friend you can contact,” He pulled a scrap of paper out of his pocket. On the back of it, he wrote in Tucker’s home and business phone numbers. “But I’m hoping we can pull this off without any fireworks.”

“God, I’m scared,” Emma said. She held up her hand. “Look at me shake.”

Blue nodded. “I know the feeling.”

Somehow, knowing that he was nervous, too, just made Emma feel worse. Blue studied the farm again through the binoculars.

“I’ve been wondering,” he said as he turned back to her.

“About what?”

“Well, why they were chasing just Button and not you, too.”

Emma didn’t have an answer for that. Shrugging, Blue turned his attention back to the farm. It was past six by the time they got into place. As the hands of Emma’s wristwatch slowly reached seven, Blue stiffened suddenly.

“What’s happening?”

“I see her,” Blue said, his voice grim.

Through the binoculars, he could see Button being led out between Chance and Joey. When Chance got on his bike, Joey shoved Button toward it. She got on the back with a jerky motion. Scared. Once she was in place, Joey got onto a three-wheeler with a car engine behind the seat. Blue held his gaze on the scene as the two bikes started up, waiting until he was sure the two men were leaving on their own. He nodded to himself as the bikes turned in their direction.

“Somebody’s smiling on us,” he said. Dropping the binoculars so that they bounced against his chest, he turned to Emma. “Let’s go.”

“Will you tell me what’s happening?”

“Chance and his buddy are taking her away on their bikes and you and me, Emma, are going after them.”

He ran down toward his own machine, letting Emma follow at her own pace, still carrying the shotgun. When they reached the trees where Blue had hidden his Harley, he waited for her to catch up.

“Once they go by,” he said, “get ready to move out fast.”

“Shouldn’t we just stop them on the road?” Emma asked. She held up the shotgun.

“Wouldn’t I love to,” Blue said, but he shook his head.

“Trouble is, at the speed they’ll be going, there’s too much chance that Button’ll get hurt. We’ve got to follow and look for a spot to take them out.”

Just then the bikes roared by—Chance with Button on the back in the lead, Joey’s three-wheeler right behind. As Blue had expected, neither man paid any attention to Emma’s car parked on the side of the road. He knew what they were thinking—who was going to mess with the Dragon?

“Let’s go!” he cried.

He started up his Harley and headed for the road, dirt spitting behind its rear wheel as it sought traction in the rough sod. By the time he was on the road, Emma had just gotten into her car. Putting the shotgun on the floor by the passenger’s seat, she started it up and sped off after Blue’s already diminishing figure.

3

It was Chance who spotted them first. Checking his rearview to look at Joey, he saw the bike and car coming up behind them. He flashed on the car—the way it’d been parked alongside the road. Just waiting for them to go by. He didn’t know who was driving it, but the biker had to be Blue. He wasn’t sure how Blue’d tracked them down, but it couldn’t be anyone else.

Just like the last time, he thought. You, me and a girl, Blue. But I got a hole card like you won’t believe. He grinned, thinking of what the Lady’s gnashers would do to Blue; then he realized that she wouldn’t be too happy with him bringing shit down on her home turf.

He lifted his hand to get Joey’s attention. Nice thing about a three-wheeler. It was hard to unbalance. Not like a Harley. He pointed behind them, nodding to himself when he was sure that Joey had seen their pursuit and would take care of them. The three-wheeler fell away as Joey slowed down, then went into a skidding 180. Joey aimed his machine right at the oncoming bike and car, front end lifting from the ground as he cranked up the gas.

Chance fed more gas into his own bike with a hard twist of his wrist and he shot ahead, leaving them all behind.

4

Weasel laid his head back against the steps of the farmhouse, grinning as he watched Shotgun and Ruthie getting ready to go at it. He looked like his namesake, lean and dangerous, with a knife-hilt protruding above the top of either boot, thin brown hair and a long scar that ran down the side of his left cheek.

Man, those girls were like a pair of cats, he thought. Always at each other’s throats. Shotgun was a big blonde, jeans fitting like a second skin, her large breasts jostling in a torn T-shirt that was a couple of sizes too big. Ruthie was small and dark-haired, built almost like a boy, but who cared, the way she’d go down on a guy—any guy, so long as he had the Dragon colors on the back of his vest.

“Two-to-one Shotgun gets creamed,” Beard said from behind him. He was like a Tennessee mountain man, a wild thatch of dirty blond hair sprouting everywhere. Even his arms and shoulders were covered with a pelt of hairy growth.

“Come on,” Weasel said. “All she’s got to do is smother Ruthie with her tits.”

“You been counting how much brew Shotgun’s been putting back today?”

Before Weasel could respond, they all heard the roar of engines coming up the road. The two women looked away from each other.

“Guess the boys are...” Beard’s voice trailed off as a string of motorcycles turned into the yard. Not one of the riders was wearing colors.

Weasel stared, jaw hanging slack. He lost count of how many bikes there were after the first fifteen or so. There had to be twice that number. And then three pickup trucks pulled up in the rear.

“What the fuck?” he muttered, standing up.

Shotgun and Ruthie drifted toward the porch, their fight forgotten. Beard stood up and was joined by the rest of the Dragons inside the farmhouse.

We are in deep shit, Weasel thought as he did a quick calculation as to how many bodies they could field against this invasion. The roar of bikes was like thunder in the farmyard. Then, one by one, the riders shut their machines down. In the forefront, a woman in black leather revealed a frizz of blond hair as she took off her helmet. With the helmet off, Weasel had no trouble recognizing her.

“You tired of living, Judy?” he asked.

Recovering from his surprise, he swaggered over to where she straddled her bike. She gave him a cold stare back, then jerked a thumb over her shoulder.

“It took me an hour to get this crew together,” she said. “Give me a little more time and I can put together three times this many.”

“You got some kind of a problem?” Weasel asked.

Beard was standing beside him now, the other Dragons spreading out across the yard, but Christ, there were only twelve of them here, including the women. Course they had the guns, if some of these dumbfucks were smart enough to bring ’em out. He shot a quick glance to either side and was happy to see that at least Danny and Stern had used their heads. Danny was carrying a repeat shotgun, Stern a hunting rifle. He could see that Judy hadn’t missed the weapons either.

“Let’s keep this real simple,” she said. “Eddie Chance and Joey Martin snatched Blue’s girl. We want her back.”

Weasel started to laugh, but she cut him off.

“Think about it, asshole,” she said. “You want the city closed off to you?”

“Somebody been feeding you happy pills?” Weasel asked. “Fer-crissakes, you’d think—”

“No garage or shop’ll deal with you. No bar’ll serve you.

Every time you set up a deal, the man’ll be breathing up your ass. Are you starting to get the picture?”

“Listen, bitch. You try to pull any of that shit and you’re dead meat.”

Judy put her bike up on its kickstand, and got off. Tossing her helmet onto the ground, she walked right up to Weasel.

“Come on,” she said, a feral look in her eyes. “Let’s you and me get it on, Weasel.”

She stood in front of him, relaxed, ready. Her face told him she didn’t give a shit. He thought about the things he’d heard about her and hesitated. Even if something got started, there were still too many of them for the Dragons to come out ahead.

“You and me, Weasel. Let’s go.”

“Just what the fuck do you want?”

“The girl.”

“She’s not here. Chance just took off with her.”

“Then how’s about this,” Judy said. “You stay out of it and we stay out of it. We leave it between Chance and Blue. Whatever happens, happens, and we all go on the way we were going—business as usual.”

Weasel glanced at Beard and the big man shrugged. “Chance’s pretty full of himself,” Beard said. “Always saying he can handle anything.”

Weasel nodded. They’d come up here to party, not to get fucked over like this. And seeing how Chance wouldn’t even share that little piece of ass he’d snatched—well, fuck him.

“You’ve got a deal,” Beard told Judy.

“You come after any one of us and that deal’s off,” she said.

“I’m saying you got a deal,” Beard said, his voice lowering. “Don’t push your luck.”

Judy nodded. “Okay.” Whatever else Beard was, he was a man who kept his word. “You seen Blue around?” she tried.

“What do you think?”

“Right.” Judy went back to her bike. Picking up her helmet, she took the machine off its kickstand. The large man who sat on the Norton beside her leaned close.

“What now?” Hacker asked softly.

“Well, we didn’t see them coming in, so I guess we’ll just see where the road takes us going the other way.”

“Can we trust them?”

Judy looked at Beard. “I think so.” Kicking her bike into life, she gave the Dragons a wave, then led the way out of the farmyard.

“Are we letting them get away with this?” Weasel asked Beard.

The big man looked at him. “Chance that big a friend of yours?” he asked.

“He rides with us.”

Beard nodded. “Yeah. He wears his colors a lot—under that sports jacket he’s got on half the time. Besides, I gave them my word.”

“Turk isn’t going to like this. Chance’s been bringing in a lot of bread.”

Turk was the president of the Ottawa chapter of the Dragon.

“It’s the bread Turk likes, not so much Chance,” Beard said. “Chance did his bit to set things up, but now that the business end of things is running smoothly, well, the guy’s too fucking ambitious—you know? We only got room for one main man, Weasel. What goes down today, it could solve a lot of future problems.” He laughed at Weasel’s frown. “Come on, man. Lighten the fuck up, would you?”

Weasel nodded.

“Who’s for more brew?” Beard called to the other Dragons.

One by one they made their way back to the farmhouse.

5

Blue didn’t have time to think. By the time he realized that Joey was turning, the big man was already roaring down the road toward them. Blue hit the brakes, swerving into the ditch as Joey came at him. The Harley skidded in the dirt. Before the bike could trap him under it, Blue jumped free. Bushes broke his fall, but he still hit hard.

Farther down the road, Joey played chicken with Emma’s car, running her into the ditch as well. The car came to a dead stop. Emma slumped in the seat and the car stalled. Oh, Christ, Blue thought. If she’s hurt... He started for the car at a run, pain lancing in his side. Might’ve cracked a rib.

By the time he reached Emma’s car, Joey had turned around and was coming back. Blue reached in across Emma’s limp form and came up with the shotgun. As Joey came up broadside, Blue turned and fired, aiming low. The blast caught out the front wheel and the bike spun out of control, skidding sideways down the road until it spilled over in the ditch. Joey went flying.

Blue ran up to where Joey lay and thrust the barrels of the shotgun into his face. “Where’s he taking her?” he demanded.

“Fuck—fuck you.”

Joey was in bad shape. One leg was twisted under him, broken for sure. Some ribs were probably broken, too.

“You can still come out of this alive,” Blue told him.

Pure hate blazed in Joey’s eyes. “We... we got magic on our side,” he said. “The fags’ll make me better.”

Blue didn’t know what he was talking about. He sat back on his heels, laying the shotgun across his knees. He didn’t think he could use it on Joey, but Jesus, he
had
to get after Chance.

“Guess I’ll just sit here and watch you die,” he said, making out like he thought Joey’s wounds were worse than they were. “Anybody comes along to help you, and I’ll blow a hole in them.”

“Chance... Chance’ll get ’em to fix me up. He’ll...”

His words trailed off as he looked past Blue’s shoulder. Blue turned fast, bringing up the shotgun, then saw it was only Emma.

“You,” Joey said. “You’re...” His face clouded with confusion as he looked at her. “You’re supposed to be at the lake with... with Chance.”

Blue grinned. “Thanks, Joey,” he said as he stood up. He took Emma by the arm. “Let’s go—we’re losing time.”