8. Izzy
8
IZZY
I don’t take a long shower, as I try to plan out the best course of action.
I pad out of the bathroom, ignoring my sleep deprived reflection in the mirror. I pop two aspirin and chug a bottle of water. The drinking from the last two nights is starting to catch up.
Man, do those bikers like to party.
I blast my hair with the blow dryer, throw it up in a high pony, toss on a pair of black yoga pants and a t-shirt and unbuttoned flannel.
I tuck the marionette doll leg and note into my bag, pulling the strap tight. It hardly weighs anything, but for some reason its presence is immensely heavy.
There’s no reason for me to act so surprised. I threw myself into a terrifying and ruthless ring of people. Somehow, one of them is connected to this damn serial killer, which means Laina was right. I have the proof I need.
Those fools didn’t even realize they gave it right to me.
But some part of me doesn’t believe it’s them. I know how to looks and all the evidence is pointing directly at them all. I guess I don’t want to believe men as gorgeous and hot could be capable of murder. But that’s part of the danger. They’re manipulative criminals.
I skip my car in case they have a few guys riding around patrolling. If they figured out where my house is then my cars on their radar as well.
The morning sun feels nice, and I try to focus on it and the clear skies overhead. Not the fact that a very dangerous killer might be watching, waiting for me in the shadows.
This will all be over soon, and I’ll get Laina back.
I decide to walk to the nearest bus stop and take one to the station. Reynold’s will be arriving at his office around the time I arrive, and I can show him the leg as well as the note. They might want to put me under surveillance.
As I approach the bus stop, I can't help but glance over my shoulder every so often. The stop isn't far, but it feels like forever.
I wipe sweat from my forehead and check my reflection in my phone. I look like a complete mess, but under these circumstances, who wouldn’t be?
I see the bright white bus down the street and pick up my pace.
At least I‘m not out here alone, there's a few people waiting for the bus too. I blend in seamlessly. I tug my phone out of my pocket and call Reynolds as I wait, but it goes to voicemail. Of course.
The bus brakes screech as it stops, cranking the doors open.
Then the roll of thunder follows, but there isn’t a damn cloud in the empty sky.
Wait. No. It takes a second, but a shiver races down my back and the hair on my neck stands up as a motorcycle comes to a stop directly behind the bus.
“Izzy!” A deep voice calls to me.
With every fiber of my being, I want to run, but I freeze in place like a deer caught in headlights. I contemplate pushing my way onto the bus and not looking back.
But then what? He’d probably follow it.
“I’m glad I found you.”
I slowly turn and there he is, Tank, wearing a leather jacket with the club‘s patches in full view and jeans, his long legs straddling his bike. 6’4, built like a brick wall. He looks as if Prince Charming has an evil twin brother.
And I’m sure as hell no princess right now.
His brown eyes are hidden behind a pair of aviator sunglasses, but I don’t need to see them to know exactly how he’s eyeing me.
“I hope Hawk didn’t piss you off too much,” he smirks as he revs his engine and the vibrations of it makes my insides clench. He tilts his head, watching me for a long while. I have about five seconds left before those bus doors close.
“Oh,” I shrug. “It’s all good.” Clueless what to say. Hawk scared me alright, and now I’m on the verge of freaking out.
“I was wondering where the hell you ran off to?”
“Home. I need to sleep at some point,” I force a feeble laugh. He drops his sunglasses, so they perch on the end of his nose, and his heavenly eyes reveal themselves to me.
“He mentioned you’re having some issues with Dead Demons.”
I nod, pressing my lips tightly together. Is he worried about me? That can’t be right. He rolls his broad shoulders back, looking to the left and then the right.
“It’s all good. we don’t need to talk about it here.” He slaps the back of his motorcycle behind him. “Come with me.”
The bus doors close then with a tight snap and lock. My chance of escape drives off.
“Where?” I ask, eyeing his metal machine then back to him.
He stops within inches of me, so close in fact that the familiar scene of leather and smoke wafts over me.
“Come on. I owe you after last night. Alright?” His voice is velvet and steel. “You shouldn’t be off on your own, you’re by yourself, vulnerable. Something could happen.”
I swallow, hating myself for the fact I want to go with him. That feral, lustful part of me wants to escape with Tank and have him whisk me out of here, and most likely straight into danger.
Think Izzy, think.
My logical sense screams at me to run, the other side of me knows there‘s no way I can outrun him. Look how far I made it this morning. I couldn’t even make it to the bus stop without this man tracking me down.
He nudges his head towards his bike. “You asked for us to protect you, right? Get on.”
I hesitate while he returns to the seat, gripping the handlebars with those bear-like hands. He revs his engine. “Your choice.”
Choice.
That’s a funny thought. In reality, I don’t think I really have one. But I don’t know why, but some part of me trusts him, or at least wants to. There’s a dangerous warmth in his eyes and I want to melt into it.
“Now get ready to ride with someone who knows what the hell they're doing.” He laughs, a full, grand sound and I climb onto his bike with him.
I’ve never been on one of these before. I’ve been terrified of them my whole life, and I should be scared. Except, my body practically molds against his own and his strong presence seeps away my worries. If he notices I’ve never ridden on a motorcycle before, he doesn’t bring it up.
“Hang on,” he says.
My arms wrap around his thick torso.
‘Tighter,” he commands with such authority, I almost yelp, pressing my arms into his sculpted abs. The engine between my thighs shakes and vibrates as the engine stirs to life with each tug on the throttle.
I’m vulnerable, completely at his mercy; this man can take me anywhere he wants and do anything he wants to me.
This is a bad idea; I know it is. But for some reason, I realize I’m excited.
“Ready?”
“Ready.” And with that he guns it, and we take off through town.
I've dreamt about flying before.
Clear blue skies and the thought of forever being lost in it. The ever-pervasive risk of plunging all at once down the hard earth.
This is the closest I’ve ever been to that sensation.
His body is steel, and I cling to him for dear life as we weave in and out of traffic so quickly my head spins.
I keep my eyes closed, temples throbbing with every turn of the bike, my body molding further into his. I try not to think about where he’s taking me or what he wants exactly, but it’s out of town, down the winding road and into the Redwood Forest.
The trees blur past us like a sea of emerald and gold.
He doesn’t seem as dangerous as the other two, though my eyes dart down to the corded muscle running down his forearm lined with veins. It wouldn’t take much for him to break me in two.
He's an ex special op after all and that means he knows how to kill efficiently and without question.
He glances back, giving me a half-dashing, half-wild smile.
“You good?” he hollers over the roar of the motorcycle.
That’s a loaded question. My best friend’s missing, I’ve seen to draw the attention of the Puppeteer, and I’m in the process of infiltrating one of the most dangerous crime organizations in my city.
But his deep eyes, wicked grin and the taste of the wind, I answer back in the only way I can.
“Yes!”
“Good, cause we’re just getting started.” He revs the bike, and it roars beneath him. His hand reaches back and rubs my thigh. Tingles shoot through me. Faster and faster, we go, the wind whipping through my hair and my heart in my throat. I tilt my head back and laugh. I’m so far from home, from the police and safety. Maybe I’m insane.
Or maybe, some part of me wants to get lost with Tank, with the Hellfire Riders. I must be some sort of masochist then. That’s the only thing I can think of.
The trees’ part ways, revealing a secluded lake atop a high hill, overlooking the sprawling green forest before us.
The roar of Tank's motorcycle dwindles into a low rumble then silence. The rides over and suddenly, I am painfully aware that I’m in the middle of nowhere.
Tank parks the bike with practiced ease, then swings a leg over to dismount, before offering me a hand.
“Figure we’d take a little detour,” he says, gesturing before us.
“It’s gorgeous out here.”
Tank towers over me, blocking out the sun. The leaves overhead catch the wind, casting his features in shadows. He’s a sinful, beautiful man.
He extends a hand for me to take.
“Follow me. I want to show you something.” He turns then toward and heads to the edge of the cliff. I follow, near jogging to keep pace with his long legs.
He stops right at the drop off of a cliff’s edge.
The thought of him tossing me over the edge rushes through my mind, but then his expression becomes a mix of curiosity and concern that seems out of place on his rugged features. He wouldn’t do that, I realize.
“See out there. That’s the heart of our operation.” He points a massive hand to sweeping fields beneath us. Acres upon acres of green marijuana plants, swishing in the wind.
The vastness of it all is overwhelming. Row upon row of cannabis plants stretch out before me, far as the eye can see. It's a hidden empire. The heart of their organization. Reynold’s has been looking for years on where they grow all the weed. He’d lose his damn mind if he knew it was only two hours away.
“You have to be kidding me,” I breathe out.
He chuckles darkly, “Oh, baby girl, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.” He pauses, his gaze sharpening a bit. "You want to tell me about that ex-boyfriend of yours?"
The question hits harder than I expect a jolt amid the serene danger surrounding us. I am reminded of the poorly manufactured facade I have up. I nod, hesitating as I choose my words. "It's complicated. I thought I was free of it, but old ties... they pull at you. He didn’t want me to leave, but I had to.”
He nods, understanding—or at least accepting—my vague response. We walk a bit further along the cliff’s edge; the only sounds are our footsteps and the distant call of an eagle overhead.
Tank stops, turning to face me fully now. "Look, Hawk asked me to keep an eye on you. Not just because of your ex or whatever hell he might drag to your doorstep, but because...Well, we don’t know you. Not really."
The admission stings. Is this their gentle way of letting me know that they don’t believe a word that’s come out of my mouth?
"I get it," I say, meeting his gaze squarely. "I don’t expect trust to be handed out. But I’m not here to cause problems, Tank. I just need somewhere to lay low for a while."
“There’s no way to know that you might be working with them still. Though it’d break my heart to find out.”
“I know. I get it. I’m a risk.”
“You’re more than a risk,” he chuckles, studying me for a moment longer. "Fair enough. But remember, this place," he gestures broadly to the fields around us, "it's sacred to us. Not just a crop, but a way of life. You respect it, you'll start earning the trust you need."
There’s a threat laced into his words.
A threat like the doll leg.
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
He grunts, a sound that might be agreement, then takes a step toward me.
“Hawk also mentioned that you're his.”
His voice is low, dangerous, and I can't help but flush at the possessiveness in his tone.
“He... might have exaggerated that part,” I stammer, my heart pounding in my ears. “We, uh, had a moment.”
Tank's eyes narrow, “Well, I think it’s rather selfish of him.” His words are light, but there's an undercurrent of darkness lurking just below the surface. "He knows better than to keep such a pretty thing to himself."
He's so close now, and I'm suddenly hyper-aware of my own body, how it tingles in response to his proximity.
“I mean, let’s be honest. No one would have to know if I had a taste for myself.” His hand rests on the side of my face, drawing his thumb along my jaw. “It’s just you and me out here, Izzy. No Hawk or Vance to get in our way.”
“Tank…” I start breathlessly, but I don’t have any words to follow, only the heat building up through me. Ever since meeting the three of them, I’ve been like a loaded gun, ready for one of them to just pull the trigger, release me from this pent-up need.
“I should get the chance to have you strip down in front of me and do a little dance.” His eyes drop over my, as he slides his hand beneath my flannel, resting onto my back. “Would you do that for me, Izzy?”
“If that’s what you want me to do,” I whisper.
“Oh, I like the sound of that.”
His lips turn into a crack of that same endearing smile.
“I’ll be a good boy and listen to my president. At least, today I will, but next time, I don’t think I’ll be able to hold back.” He steps back. “Come on, let's head to the clubhouse. The others will be wondering where we've gone off to."
“Wait! How did you know about what happened with Hawk and I?”
“If Vance is right hand, think of me as the left. We know everything about one another.”
My cheeks turn as red as the flannel I’m wearing.
“Don’t be embarrassed, sweetheart. There’s no reason for that. Hawk likes to play games with his things. It’s his nature. Me? I’m a bit more direct.”
I don’t know where this spike of courage comes from, but it does and I’m not about to lose it. “Three nights ago, my friend came to the clubhouse. Do you remember her? Short, like five foot three with blonde hair.”
He shakes his head.
“No, you’re the first thing that’s walked into the shithole and caught my eye in a long while.” He motions for me to follow. “Come on.”
I listen to his direction, a thousand questions spinning in my head. I want to know why he brought me here of all places and let me know where they grow their marijuana.
The only answer I can come up with is that this is a test of trust. They want to know if I’ll lead someone straight here.
There aren’t nearly as many bikes parked at the front of the clubhouse, during the day. I imagine most are off doing drug runs and tending to their massive growth operation.
I slide off the motorcycle behind him, my legs feeling a bit shaky after the long ride.
“Tank! Who’s the new chick?” A deep voice belonging to a skinny, pale man with a gym-rat’s physique and a sleeve of tattoos. All at once, Tank’s hand wraps around my waist, pulling me against him, keeping me close.
“Piss off Gunnar,” he says with a wink to me then leads the way inside. In the daylight, the space takes on a less intimidating appearance.
“We talked it over,” he starts.
“We?”
“Hawk, Vance, and I.” We head into the main area of the clubhouse. The ceiling fans whirl overhead. A few of the bikers hang around at the table, but the place is almost empty.
“We want you to stay here with us, okay? It’ll be better this way.”
“Like live here?”
“Yeah. Of course. It’s about the safest place I can think of to have you.”
“Wait—what about my things, where will I sleep?”
“First, don’t worry about those and second, come upstairs with us.”
I don’t know what to say. It’s most definitely not safe, and I don’t have a way to get to Reynolds. I don’t even have a car.
It clicks then. This is their way of trapping me without force to watch and see what I’m up to. They must think I’m after the weed. I could care less about the drugs when Laina’s missing.
This behavior doesn’t line up with the Puppeteer’s profile, so then how is this puzzle all connected?
“How about an official grand tour?” he asks, breaking me from my thoughts.
“That’d be great!” A tour is good. It’ll let me see if there’s any off-limits areas, anything suspicious or out of place where one of these men might have their secrets buried.
“Right, this way then.” He waves his hand nonchalantly. “You’ve already been acquainted with the bar and the domain upstairs.” His shoulders open a door to the left. “Let’s head this way then.”
We step into a narrow hallway with doors on either side. Tank starts pointing, and I try my best to keep up and take mental notes.
“This is the rec area, though there is the gym, weight room, garage out back, and this…this is my favorite spot.”
None of them are terribly exciting or interesting. In the rec room, a tall redhead in red booty shorts was straddling some muscular jock who had to be at least 15 years her senior. They paid neither of us any mind when we stuck our heads in.
“That’s Mace and his girl Viv,” he says, moving me along.
My eye catches a locked metal door with a clear evident lock on it.
“Where does that go?” I ask.
“The basement. It’s pretty nasty down there. Follow me.”
I study the basement door for a moment longer, wondering if it would be possible to find another route down there. I’m not an expert lock pick, but I’m sure there has to be a key somewhere.
I don’t linger too long, trying my best to keep pace with Tank as he steps into an open doorway leading directly into a massive industrial kitchen.
“This is where the real magic happens.”
“You like to cook?” I ask with one eyebrow raised.
“Nah, I mean - I can whip up a mean peanut butter and jelly.”
“Don’t ask him to fucking cook you anything.” Vance is leaning back at the dining table with the boots propped up. “Unless you want to be sick.”
“Dude. I’m not that bad.”
A toothpick rolls between his lips, back and forth.
“I like a good peanut butter and jelly sandwich,” I say with a soft smile.
“Then Tank can be in charge of feeding you,” Vance says. His leather vest is tossed on the back of the chair, and he’s got on a black tank top, showing off the lines of snaking tattoos. His head cocks to the side as his silver eyes fall onto me. With the sunlight coming through the window, I notice the deep scar running across his forearm. The thick pink line follows his bicep.
“I’m glad you turned back up,” he says. “I was worried something might have happened.”
“Didn’t have much of a choice. Tank found me.”
“Yeah, he’s really good at finding people we want.” Vance grins. “So, how does our humble clubhouse compare to your ex’s?”
“It’s bigger,” I say. I know that for a fact based on the photos I’ve seen at work.
“God, I love hearing that,” Tank chuckles.
Vance stands up then and walks over to me.
With Tank looming behind me and Vance in front, I find myself sandwiched between the two of them. Both of them smell like the forest mixed with sweet smoke. Both of them are dangerous, watching me like prey.
“I’m glad you’re here.” His eyes never leave mine. “Do you want anything?”
I swallow down the lump in my throat. “I’m fine, thanks.”
He holds out his hand.
“Give me your phone.”
I reach into my pocket and pull out my cell, unlocking the screen. Vance starts entering a number.
“Call me. If you need anything, alright? Hawk made it clear; he wants us to take extra good care of you.”
“I can take care of myself for the most part,” I start. That might have been too bold, but Tank chuckles again. I sense an undercurrent of tension between them.
“We can take care of anything you need,” Tank whispers in my ear.
I wish he didn’t say that. I wish they weren’t surrounding me like and maybe I might be able to think straight, but instead my knees knock into one another. I think they might know how wound up they have me.
“Behave,” Vance clips out, handing me back my phone. “Both of you.” God. I shouldn’t like how direct he is. “Don’t make us track you down again,” Vance says. The look in his eyes is anything but playful. “You of all people should understand how this works. If you leave our property, you tell us where you’re going. Got it?”
“Yeah. I got it.”
I tuck my phone back into my pocket, and Vance lifts up my chin.
“You’re safe with us, but don’t make this fucking work, alright?”
I nod, but I don't believe it for a second.
“Come on, Izzy. Hawk wants to talk to you,” Vance says then. My nerves spike and my eyes widen.
Vance shakes his head, clicking his tongue as though I’ve upset him dearly.
“Don’t look at me like that. You’re not in that much trouble. He’s in the building to the right of the garage. Oh, and Izzy. I’ll take your bag for you.” He’s looking at my purse.
I absentmindedly squeezed the strap.
“Where?”
“I’m just going to set it up in the apartment.”
“Okay.” Reluctantly, I slide it off my shoulder, praying hard he doesn’t look inside and find the marinate doll leg.