Chapter Two
Goldie
The vibration from Wheels’ motorcycle had settled into my bones somewhere around the first hour. By the second hour, I wasn’t sure if I could feel anything else.
The steady rumble of the engine, the wind pushing against me, and the exhaustion dragging at every part of my body had blended together into one long blur of highway, headlights, and darkness.
We’d stopped once for maybe five minutes, but it could have been less.
Long enough for Wheels and Nugget to fill up and for me to buy a bottle of water that I barely remembered drinking.
Wheels and Nugget scanned the parking lot and the road, then got us moving again.
The whole time, Wheels had acted like nothing in the world could touch him. Like bullets, threats, and mysterious organizations didn’t mean a damn thing. It should have annoyed me. Instead, it was oddly reassuring.
Because beneath all that confidence was something else. Awareness.
Every time we stopped, he checked the mirrors. Every time another vehicle got close, his attention shifted. Every time we hit an intersection, he looked twice. The man might have been cocky, but he wasn’t stupid.
And right now, stupid people don’t stay alive very long.
I tightened my grip around his middle as the bike ate up another stretch of highway.
The leather of his cut was cool beneath my fingertips, and his shoulders remained relaxed, like this was just another ride.
The fact that I’d somehow ended up trusting a motorcycle club more than the people who ran my city was something I never would have believed a month ago.
Hell, a week ago.
Maybe even twelve hours ago.
Yet here I was, riding through the middle of the night behind a man I’d known for less than a day because he felt safer than home.
The thought made my stomach twist.
Home. Madison had always been home.
I’d been born there. Raised there. Gone to school there. Worked there. Everything I knew existed inside those city limits.
My parents had raised Novalea and me to believe Madison was special. Safe.
A community. The kind of place where people watched out for one another. Where neighbors brought casseroles when someone died. Where teachers spent their own money on classroom supplies. Where people cared.
My throat tightened.
Both my parents were gone now. Dad first from cancer. Then Mom three years later with a heart attack.
Just like that. Poof. Gone.
The two people who had always made the world feel steady disappeared. All I’d had left was Novalea. My sister and best friend.
Novalea taught fifth grade at an elementary school on the west side. She loved those kids like they were her own. Half the time when I called her after work, she’d spend twenty minutes telling me stories about science projects, field trips, and classroom drama.
The thought of her made my chest ache. I hadn’t called her. The less she knew, the safer she was. At least that’s what I kept telling myself.
The truth was I didn’t know if anyone connected to me was safe anymore.
The Ledger had made sure of that.
I closed my eyes for a second. The Ledger. Even thinking the name made me feel sick.
The city I’d loved my entire life had secrets buried underneath it. Rot. Corruption. Evil. The kind of evil that smiled at charity events and shook hands at fundraisers. The kind that hid behind expensive suits and polished reputations. The kind that ruined lives while pretending to help people.
And I’d stumbled right into the middle of it.
The motorcycle slowed slightly, and I opened my eyes.
Streetlights appeared in the distance.
Madison.
My heart squeezed.
For the first time in my life, seeing my hometown didn’t make me feel relieved. It made me nervous. The closer we got, the more it felt like returning to enemy territory.
The bike rolled past familiar exits. Familiar businesses. Familiar neighborhoods.
Everything looked the same, and none of it felt the same.
The illusion was gone.
I knew what lived underneath it now.
Eventually, we reached downtown, and the streets were quieter than normal.
Most people had gone home hours ago, but a few bars still had lights on. A handful of people wandered the sidewalks while the city was settled into the strange calm that only happened after midnight.
State Street appeared ahead. The familiar storefronts. The restaurants. The bars. The college-town energy that somehow survives at every hour of the day.
The bike turned until we went a few more blocks, and then into an alley, into a parking area behind the clubhouse.
Wheels slowed, and Nugget pulled in beside us.
I climbed off the bike, and my legs immediately protested.
Two hours riding wasn’t exactly comfortable. Before I could fully straighten, a door opened and three men stepped outside.
All of them wore cuts and looked dangerous. Not in a criminal way, more in a don’t-start-problems-you-can’t-finish kind of way.
The first one had a patch that immediately caught my attention.
Prez.
President. The guy in charge.
Twister. The name stitched onto his cut matched what I’d already figured out.
Beside him stood Swift and Gramps. All three of them looked tired. Really tired. The kind of tired that came from a long night. Considering someone had shot up their clubhouse earlier, that made sense.
Twister looked directly at Wheels. “What the hell took so long?”
Wheels pulled off his helmet. “Goldie’s a pretty good driver.”
I blinked. What?
He pointed toward me. “Think she should consider a career change. Race car driver, maybe.”
Nugget laughed. “Absolutely.”
I stared at both of them.
“I hate both of you.”
“See?” Wheels said. “Natural competitor.”
Twister rubbed a hand down his face. Even he looked like he was trying not to laugh.
The tension eased slightly.
Then Twister’s attention shifted to me. He stepped forward and held out his hand. “Twister.”
I shook it. “Goldie.”
He nodded toward the other two. “Swift. Gramps.”
Both men offered greetings.
I could feel them studying me. Trying to figure me out. Trying to decide if I was worth the trouble.
Oddly enough, it didn’t feel threatening. It felt practical. Like they were assessing a situation, not judging me.
Twister folded his arms. “We all want to know what you know.”
My stomach tightened. Of course they did.
“But,” he continued, “you look exhausted.”
I laughed weakly. That might have been the understatement of the year.
“So does everyone else,” he added.
Gramps snorted. “No shit. We’ve been cleaning up bullet holes and broken glass all night.”
The reminder sent a fresh wave of guilt through me.
People got shot because of me. The buildings got damaged because of me. Everything I’d touched lately seemed to turn into a disaster.
Twister must have seen something on my face, because his expression softened slightly. “We’ve got a room upstairs.”
A room. The idea sounded incredible. Sleep sounded even better.
“You can get some rest,” he said.
And suddenly I realized just how tired I really was. The adrenaline was gone and the panic was fading. For the first time since this nightmare started, I wasn’t alone.
I still didn’t trust them, though.
Wheels and the club hadn’t handed me over. They hadn’t threatened me. They hadn’t tried to use me. If they were going to hurt me, they’d had plenty of opportunities already.
That made them the lesser evil, at least for now.
Twister gestured toward the door. “Come on.”
The clubhouse was warm when we stepped inside. The main room was larger than I’d expected.
A bar stretched along one side. Tables, couches, and a pool table were opposite the bar.
It felt more like a strange combination of home and business than the criminal headquarters I’d imagined.
Boots echoed against the floor as we crossed the room, and my backpack suddenly felt twice as heavy.
Twister looked toward Wheels. “Get her upstairs.”
Wheels nodded. “Got it.”
“She’s your responsibility.”
My eyes flicked between them.
Wheels didn’t even hesitate. “Understood.”
That should have made me nervous. Instead, it didn’t. Which was probably another sign I was running on fumes.
We climbed the stairs, and the second floor was quieter. Wheels stopped three doors down on the right. “This one’s yours.”
He opened the door and I stepped inside.
The room was basic. A bed. A dresser. A television. Nothing fancy and nothing unnecessary.
Honestly, it looked perfect.
Wheels pointed across the hallway. “Bathroom’s right there.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
My backpack slid from my shoulder and landed on the floor. The simple act nearly made me groan with relief. I was exhausted and closed my eyes.
When I looked up, Wheels was still standing there.
Watching me.
His blue eyes met mine, and for a second, something strange fluttered in my stomach.
Awareness. Heat. Or maybe I was just delirious from lack of sleep. That seemed far more likely.
“You okay?” he asked. His voice had softened.
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“You don’t look okay.”
A laugh escaped me. “That’s because I’m not.”
One corner of his mouth lifted. “I’ll be right outside the door if you need anything.”
Something about the way he said it settled another tiny piece of anxiety inside me.
“Okay.”
His gaze lingered for another second, then he stepped backward. “Get some sleep, Goldie.”
The door clicked shut, and silence filled the room.
I stared at it for a moment and then at the bed. Then back at the door. The room felt safe. Safer than anywhere had in days. Maybe weeks.
I kicked off my shoes and didn’t bother unpacking, changing clothes, or doing anything except crawl beneath the blanket.
The mattress might as well have been heaven. I barely got comfortable before my eyes closed.
The last thing I remembered was thinking that maybe, just maybe, I’d survive long enough to see morning. Then exhaustion finally won.