Protected Pt 09

COLT

"You ready to ride?" I asked Willow as we sauntered out of the Buitre del Demonio clubhouse.

"Aren't I always?" she murmured as she leaned in close to my side.

It'd been three weeks since I spoke with Suárez, and there'd no hint of trouble. I'd hung onto the burner phone, leaving it off except for a couple of minutes each day when I checked for messages to see if Suárez had reached out to me. There was no reason he would, other than his drugs weren't where I'd said they would be, but as there'd been no messages, I was confident that my business with Suárez was concluded. Willow hadn't been happy about it, but I'd kept the phone. When I was sure Suárez wasn't going to try to contact me, I'd turned the phone off, wiped it clean of any fingerprints, sealed it in a Ziploc plastic bag, and taken it to one of the wells that I serviced. There I tucked it out of sight where a brace connected to one of the legs of the derrick. If I could find who was working with the cartel to harm Willow, I'd use the phone to contact Suárez again to inform him who the culprit was. Until then, if there was some way for the cartel to track phone down, it was out in the boonies and miles from us.

I smiled down at Willow. Today the club was going on a ride. Last week Goose had his cast removed, and Big Dick had his removed yesterday. Big Dick was still hobbling, and he had an external brace he had to wear for another few weeks to keep his weight off the mending bone, but he was anxious to ride again.

To celebrate Big Dick and Goose's return to riding form, the entire BDMC and their old ladies were riding to Laredo for lunch on Larke's dime. Willow still had a company credit card, had suggested the outing, and was going to use the opportunity to present a surprise to Lilly, Maddy, and Lucia. She and I were the only two that knew what was tucked into my inside pocket.

I'd lept at her suggestion for lunch... not because the club couldn't afford to pay for the outing, or because of what she and Larke were doing for my sisters, but because it was a chance for the sisters to see Willow as someone other than a job, the woman the club was protecting, or the person who some still seemed to think caused the death of four of our brothers.

We were preparing to ride when Maddy slowly approached. Though Grace was no longer with us, Maddy was still one of us, and would be riding bitch with Whiz, who didn't have an old lady or a squeeze of his own. Lucia and Lilly were behind Skip and Jammer respectively, and for the same reason. I saw Willow stiffen slightly in anticipation, and I hardened myself to verbally slap Maddy down if she got into Willows face.

"Willow?" Maddy said, her voice slightly meek.

"Yes?" Willow replied, her voice carefully neutral.

"I want to... apologize for the way I acted... and what I said after Chuck..." Maddy's gaze dropped, unable to complete the sentence. "I was way out of line... and I'm sorry."

Willow said nothing until Maddy looked up, clearly afraid of what she might see in Willow's face. "You were upset. I understand," Willow said softly.

Maddy looked down again and scuffed her feet before she pulled Willow a little farther from me. She was speaking softly, and I turned my back, giving the woman a little extra privacy, but I could still hear Maddy's words.

"I was, and you were an outsider, but it looks like you're Colt's squeeze, and... and I wanted to clear the air between us."

"Is that why you're apologizing, because I'm Colt's squeeze?" Willow asked, her voice giving nothing away.

"Yes, kind of, but not really. I don't want to there to be hard feelings between me and a sister, especially when I was the one who was wrong, but also because... well... it's the right thing to do." There was a pause, but then Maddy continued. "I have a temper, and I know it, but sometimes I can't control it."

There was a long moment of silence, and I turned to see what was happening. Willow and Maddy were hugging each other fiercely. Willow saw me turn, met my gaze, and nodded ever so slightly.

"I'm sorry for your loss. I really am," Willow whispered, almost too softly for me to hear. If she'd been facing away from me, so I couldn't have seen her lips, I wouldn't have been able to make out the words. "I can only imagine how much you're hurting. I'd give anything to be able to bring Grace back, for you and for Colt."

Maddy sniffed. "Thank you. Thank you for understanding."

"If there's anything I can do, just ask."

"Thank you," Maddy said again before she released Willow, sniffed, and wiped her eyes. She seemed to want to say something else, but then nodded and made her way to where Whiz was waiting beside his Road King.

"I told you she'd come around," I said quietly as I handed Willow her helmet.

She smiled, but there was a sadness to it. "Yeah. I can tell she'd still hurting, but I'm glad she did that before I presented the scholarships," she said as she patted my chest where the three envelops were tucked into an inside pocket. "This way it won't seem like I'm trying to bribe anyone."

The paperwork for the seven full ride scholarships for my fallen brother's children had arrived in the mail several days ago, courtesy of Larke Oil. The only restrictions on the scholarships were the kids had to attend a school in Texas and they had to maintain a 'B' average. At the end of four years, if the kids wanted to pursue a career in the oil industry, the scholarships could be extended for up to another four years if they were studying geology, petroleum engineering, or one of another half-dozen fields. Though it wasn't stated in the paperwork, if the kids were smart and chose their careers wisely, I wouldn't be surprised if there was a job offer waiting at the end of those four to eight years as well.

Willow was going to present Lilly, Maddy, and Lucia with the scholarships at lunch today. Fish and Janet were already divorced before I met him, and I didn't know the woman or where she lived, so I'd get the scholarship for Maria, Fish's daughter, to her through Fish's mother.

With our helmets on kissing her was a problem, so I caressed her lips with a finger instead. "This is a good thing you're doing for them. Thank you."

She looked down briefly before bringing her gaze back to mine. "I wish I could do more."

"Nothing you do can bring my bothers back." I saw her face fall and she looked at the ground. I placed my finger under her chin and forced her to look at me. "Listen to me," I said softly. "You're making sure their kids have a chance for a good start in life. That's more than you had to do, more than anyone expects you to do. No matter what you do, no matter how much you give, you can't bring them back... so don't try."

"I know," she whispered.

"Do you?" She nodded slowly. "Then stop feeling guilty."

"I don't." I held her gaze. "Not much, anyway," she amended.

I touched her lips again. "I understand how you feel. We'll get past this... together."

When she nodded, I dipped my head at the bike. "Let's ride."

-oOo-

As president, Willow and I were leading the BDMC to the Palenque Grill, Goose and Deb riding just behind and to our right in the traditional vice-president position. The rest of the Buitre del Demonio were following us in staggered formation, with Big Dick and Haley, as sergeant-at-arms, bringing up the rear to herd any stragglers. We were in the big nothing between Eagle Pass and Carrizo Springs, rumbling East and South on 277 when I noticed a white Chevy pickup had closed up on the club even though we were traveling well above the posted speed limit already.

I ground my teeth in annoyance. Some people were such assholes. When a car or truck crowded a biker, if something went wrong, the biker lost, regardless of who was at fault. As I watched, Big Dick, Limpkin, and Ricky began to gradually slow, backing the truck off from the main group before the truck whipped into the oncoming lane. US 277 was level, straight, and easy to pass on, and the truck was coming hard as the driver attempted to pass the entire club. I shook my head.

Asshole

! We were doing over seventy in a fifty-five zone, and this ass-wipe was acting like we were holding up traffic, but then the truck slowed as it drew alongside the bulk of the club, almost pacing us.

This isn't right

... my mind whispered. I put my hand on Willow's knee, gave it a squeeze, and then returned my hand to handlebar.

The squeeze was our way of me saying I wanted her attention. Normally I pointed, or gestured, but now I was focused on the white pickup slowly passing the club. After a moment, I saw her look over her shoulder in my rearview. Watching the truck, she tucked in closer and wrapped her arms around me.

I backed off the throttle, not liking the asshole in the truck pacing us in the oncoming traffic lane. As it drew alongside Willow and me, the man in the passenger seat looked directly at us before turning to speak to the driver. The little voice whispering of danger began to scream. I didn't think, only reacted, and instantly went to maximum braking. As Willow slamming into my back, the truck whipsawed into our lane on the edge of control, the rear bumper barely missing my front wheel. Brothers scattered as I burned off speed faster than they could react. The driver of the truck slammed on the brakes, dumping speed as fast as possible, but there was no way a five-thousand-pound truck could brake as hard as my eight-hundred-pound motorcycle. Some of the brothers riding close behind flashed past in an instant, swerving around me before the brake lights on their bikes began popping on, while behind me I heard the crashing scrape of bikes hitting the ground. In front of us, Turney slammed hard into the rear of the truck before he and Amanda began to tumble and slide along the ground in a tangle of flesh and steel. Jammer swerved but was unable to avoid Turney's tumbling bike, causing him and Lilly to go down hard.

As soon as I'd bled off enough speed, I leaned the bike hard over, circling in the middle of the road, parts of my bike scraping pavement before I whacked the throttle open. Willow and I were racing away, the big bike clawing for speed, when I heard the buzzing roar of an automatic weapon, the same snarling buzz I'd heard during our desperate escape in Willow's RV. I had to get Willow out of there as fast as possible.

Several bikes were down with too many of my brothers and sisters laying on the pavement or on the side of road. My guts clenched as we rocketed past the carnage. The best thing I could do for my them now was to pull the attackers away. In my rearview, two bikes with lone riders were turning to follow as the truck turned, bouncing and lunging as it ran off the side of the road, it's left rear tire billowing smoke and dust as the driver tromped hard on the accelerator. The bikes could accelerate faster than the truck and Willow and I, along with my two wingmen, pulled well ahead of the vehicle as we sprinted away.

The truck was following us, but not gaining, when I saw another truck ahead swerve into our lane and then stop canted sideways to block the road. "Fuck!" I snarled as I hammered the brakes, Willow leaning hard into my back as I desperately slowed. There was nowhere to go! Desperate, I banked left, my bike bucking and heaving as we left the pavement. I banged hard into a rickety-looking fencepost, the collision almost dumping us from the bike. I stood the bike upright again and revved the engine hard, causing the rear tire to spin in the loose dirt.

"Goddammit!" I shouted as I kicked the bike back, then raced the engine again, hitting the post harder this time.

The bike stopped with a hard jolt, again almost tossing us from our seats, but I kept the throttle pinned. The big V-Twin of the Harley bellowed as the rear tire kicked up a rooster-tail of dirt, but then bike lurched forward as the post shattered with the sharp crack of breaking wood. Ricky and Limpkin waited as I stomped on the wire, holding it down with my feet to prevent it from tangling in the bike as I inched across the fence.

I glanced right and left. The trucks were almost on us! I gassed the hog, the bike weaving and sliding as it scrabbled for traction. I rode fast as I dared, the Softail suspension banging and bottoming over the rough ground. Harleys were road bikes, ill-suited to this type of work, and with a passenger weighing me down and making the bike even harder to handle, my brothers soon caught me again. I glanced behind me. The two trucks had forced the fence down and were giving chase, muscling aside brush as they came. I was at my limit, having barely caught several near crashes already. If I tried to go any faster, I'd crash, but the trucks were closing on us rapidly.

I'd finally made a mistake, thinking Willow was safe with me in Rio Lago, and now she was going to die. I swerved right, heading for an open patch of ground, frantically searching for any advantage. I had to weave, dodging the scrub, but the trucks simply mowed all but the largest of the brush down. The only reason we weren't dead already is my out-of-control flight across the terrain made us impossible to shoot and our path unpredictable, but even so, the trucks were nearly on us now, not more than fifty or sixty feet behind, and were reeling us in as I struggled.

We burst from the scrub onto a dirt road, the bike nearly bucking us off as it lurched over the small embankment created from grading the road. We could ride faster here than in the scrub, but the trucks would be faster as well, probably much faster, but I was out of options. I hauled the bike left, the heavy cruiser sliding and slipping, the rear tire spinning as I kicked the ground franticly, trying to keep the bike under us until I could gather it up. If we crashed now, we'd be dead in seconds.

Finally I felt my balance return as the bike stood up. I applied as much throttle as I could, the bike feeling squirmy and out of control beneath me as we raced away, gaining some ground on the trucks until they could batter their way out of the brush.

The bike was darting and weaving, jittering so badly I could barely keep it upright, Ricky and Lipkin a blur in my mirrors as the bike vibrated madly over the rough road. I couldn't be sure, but they seemed to be falling farther behind. Suddenly my brothers were gone, their bikes skidding and sliding before the two men dumped them. Ricky and Limpkin slid and tumbled along the ground before scrambling franticly for the side of the road, Ricky going left and Limpkin right. The trucks were on them instantly, crashing into the two bikes before either man had cleared the road or regained their feet.

The first truck reared into the air, jerking sideway as the bikes tangled underneath, the second truck crashing into the first. I kept glancing into the rear views, watching as my brothers scrambled to their feet and turned toward the trucks, pulling their weapons as they did. I heard several shots, then several more in quick succession, followed by a moment of silence. As they disappeared into my dust cloud, I saw Ricky yank open the door of the second truck before I heard four more quick shots.

I considered stopping, but if Ricky and Limpkin hadn't managed to eliminate the threat, I had to get Willow away. We continued to ride along the dirt roads as fast as I dared, but I slowed enough that I wasn't riding beyond my ability anymore to reduce the chance of a crash. I was afraid to stop and was navigating by dead reckoning, trying to work my way toward the highway, or any paved road, but with the sun nearly directly overhead I had little to work with, and soon, I was completely turned around.

I kept going, working my way along the maze of dirt roads that crisscrossed this part of Texas, searching for something I recognized. Several times I thought I knew where I was, only to realize I was wrong, and that only confused my location further. Finally, with the Harley running on fumes, we pulled to a stop by a wind-driven well. It might be one I'd serviced, but which one? I switched the bike off, and Willow stepped off. Better to stop here, where we had water, than to run out of gas and have to suffer in the heat with nothing to drink.

As I removed my helmet, I scanned the horizon, looking for dust clouds. I saw nothing but shimmering waves of heat. Without the breeze created by the motorcycle, I was already beginning to sweat from the sweltering heat.

"Think we lost them?" Willow asked softly as she loosened the bindings of her helmet.

"I think. I hope."

"Do you think Limpkin and Ricky...?"

I swallowed hard. "I'm sure they're fine," I lied. They'd seemed to have the upper hand when I saw them last, but they were going up against no less than three men, at least one of whom had a machine gun.

"How did they know?"

I shook my head. "Fuck if I know."

"Now what?"

"We're all but out of gas. I think we should stay here, where we have water and at least a little shade, and wait for rescue. Please tell me you have your sat phone."

She turned to the bike, pulled her purse from the leather bag, and after a moment, waggled the phone for me to see. "Don't leave home without it," she said softly.

"I think I'm in love."

I took the phone from her dialed. I first tried Goose, then Big Dick, and finally Limpkin, the only number I could remember off the top of my head. Nobody answered so I left each a short message telling them to call this number and that Willow and I were safe and unharmed.

"Shit," I grunted as I end the call with Limpkin.

She seemed to lose control when I hung up and didn't immediately start dialing again. Sniffling, she stepped in close and wrapped me in her arms. I pulled her in close and held her tight.

"Why does this keep happing?" she whimpered.

"I don't know."

"I don't understand how they keep finding me! And now," she blubbered, "all your friends hurt, and maybe dead! I don't--"

I shushed her. "You don't know that."

"You saw!"

"I did," I agreed, but--"

"And then Ricky and Limpkin! It was just like with Packard! What if they're are dead?" she whimpered before she began sobbing. "I'm so sorry! I should have--"

Her phone began to ring. She pulled out of my arms and stood, staring at her phone, her face haunted. I pressed the button to accept the call and then put it on speaker so she could hear, praying Big Dick wasn't going to give me any tragic news."

"Colt."

"Jesus! Are you okay? Where the fuck are you?"

"Damned if I know, but we're okay at the moment. What about everyone else? What's happening?"

"Eleven injured in the crash, nobody serious. Mostly road rash, cuts, bruises, and a couple of sprains. No broken bones, and nobody shot, thank God. All the old ladies and squeezes are badly shaken up, obviously. Are Limpkin and Ricky with you?"

"No, not anymore."

"What does that mean?" he asked softly, and I knew what he was thinking.

"It means the last time I saw them, they were ruining some assholes' day. Hopefully they're okay."

"So they're still alive?" he asked, and I could hear the relief in his voice.

"They were when I saw them last, yes. Willow and I were hauling ass away from them, but I didn't hear anything that would make me think they're not okay."

Big Dick blew out air in relief. "Okay. We'll find them. You really don't know where you are?"

"The middle of fucking nowhere, by a windmill, if that helps. We had to go cross country and now we're about out of gas. We've got shade, and water, so worry about finding Limpkin and Ricky first."

"How the fuck are we supposed to find you?"

"Go back about three miles from the wreck. You should see were we pushed a fence down on the left. From there, all I can tell you is to follow the tracks. The trucks probably made a big-ass hole in the desert, so it shouldn't be hard. When you reach the road, turn left. If Limpkin and Ricky are smart, they'll stay with the trucks. Maybe they can even drive one out. I don't know."