Joel took a deep breath as he walked towards Carla. He was still shaking with rage, with the desire to point the gun he held in his hands at the head of the man that had threatened his girl, his blue bird, and pull the god damned trigger. It was that very impulse that made him quickly empty the cartridge, stashing the bullets in the hidden inside pocket of his jacket and then making sure the chamber was empty.
Only after he had made sure all of the bullets were out and the gun was empty did he move to tuck it in the back of his jeans, pulling his leather jacket up and over it so it was hidden in the waistband. His hands were shaking as he neared the bike and he couldn’t make himself look at her, not yet. Maybe not until they got back to the club house and he could convince himself, convince both of them that they were whole and unharmed and blessedly, amazingly alive.
Joel let out a shaky breath, swiping one hand over across his face and then running his fingers once, twice through his hair. He’d had some close calls before. Everyone in the lifestyle did, and it wasn’t like he’d exactly had a perfect, pristine childhood growing up. He’d been on his own since he was sixteen, and if he was honest, long before that. He’d had plenty of dances with good old Mr. Death but nothing at all came close to the moment he saw Maurice point that gun at Carla.
Everything had narrowed then, his entire world shrinking to that one, horrible moment when he’d been so sure that he was about to lose everything good in his life, and right after he’d just gotten her back.
A harsh chuckle burst from his chest and he shuddered as the agony of it swept through him, incapacitating him. But then he felt it. Lightly at first, almost not even there at all but then firmer and more real. Yes, it was her. Her touch. Carla had walked up behind him and was sliding her arms like twin snakes around his waist, pressing her cheek to his back and even through the leather of his jacket he could feel her heat. Her sweetness. Her love.
It broke something in him, and at the same time, like a ray of sunlight breaking through the leaves of a tree, it healed something in him as well. His head dropped and his chin hit his chest as all the fight went out of him. But the adrenaline was still there and it propelled him into motion as he spun around in her arms, pulling her close against him.
His mouth landed on hers in a hard kiss. It wasn’t sweet, it wasn’t gentle, but it held every ounce of love and lust and desire and awe that welled up inside him and he revealed it all to her. Finally, she pulled back, panting and pink cheeked, her big blue eyes shining up at him as a small smile danced around her kiss swollen lips.
“As much as I enjoyed that, I’m really not sure now is the best time for…” Carla trailed off, finishing the sentence with a tiny shrug and a look back at the office. She was right. He knew that. It was only a matter of time before Maurice was up and moving again. He hadn’t hit the man hard enough to do any serious damage, more’s the pity, but he couldn’t stop himself from dropping one more quick, powerful kiss on her lips, tasting her sweetness one more time before dragging himself back.
Joel swung one leg over his bike, adrenaline still pumping through him, distracting him as he grabbed the handlebar, revving the engine and kicking up the stand before gesturing for Carla to hop on behind him. It was heaven and torture all at the same time as she slid onto the bike, her arms once more coming around in an embrace that made her entire front plaster against him. He groaned at the feel of her but the sound of the rumbling engine drowned it out. He was grateful for that because she was right. It was the time or place. Not yet anyways. Now, as soon as they got back to the clubhouse, well, that was another story altogether.
Joel turned the bike around, heading it down the long drive and not even bothering to look back as he finally breathed an easy breath, leaving the farm and the office and that bastard Maurice behind. He had a feeling that it would be a lot harder to leave the memories of what had happened, just how close he had come to losing her, behind as well but it was a start in the right direction. And they were both still alive, so it was a win-win, really.
They had just made it to the end of the drive when he felt Carla tense behind him. That feeling that had burned in his gut when they had first left the clubhouse, the one that told him something bad was about to him, fired to life again and he cursed quietly and vehemently.
“What is it?” he asked, his eyes still glued to the precarious gravel driveway in front of them.
“Maurice. He–He left the office. I couldn’t see everything, but I think…Joel, I think he’s following us.”
“Fuck!”
“Joel, he’s never going to let us get away with the recording. He’s not going to let us expose him like that, not if he can help it. Not if he can stop it,” her voice was panicked and he hated the note of fear that laced through it.
“Don’t worry. We’ll stick to the original plan and head back to the clubhouse.”
“What if he chases after us?” she asked, holding on even tighter to him and he wished that he could hold her back, hug her to him and convince her that everything was going to be fine.
“Don’t worry, Carla!” he repeated, having to yell over the sound of the wind and engines, “We follow the plan. Everything will be okay. You’ll see.”
Joel wasn’t sure if she believed him or not. Neither said another word as Joel pulled on to the highway headed back towards the clubhouse but it was apparent ten minutes later when the sound of a revving car engine broke through the tense silence that Maurice wasn’t giving up. Worry ate at Joel at the realization that instead of losing the bastard, Maurice was actually gaining on them.
Carla’s heart was beating so fast that he could feel her rapid, panicked pulse through the leather jacket and he wished he could console her, but every ounce of focus was locked on staying ahead of Maurice.
He actually managed to put a little distance between them at first but it was all lost when he pulled off on to the exit and the winding, mountain roads full of switchbacks and precarious turns. He heard something rattle unsettlingly in the bike and for the first time since the tense chase started she spoke.
“What was that, Joel?” she yelled in his ear and he shook his head.
“I’m not sure. Sound like it could be something in the engine, or…shit!” Joel jerked the bike to one side as it rattled again, harder this time and he risked a glance back to see Maurice right on their tail. Fear made him press the engine even harder, trying to gain some breathing room, whatever he could, but it wasn’t until it was too late that he realized where the rattling was coming from. It was the brake line. Maurice must have tampered with it before confronting them in the office to make sure they couldn’t get away if they ended up surviving him and his gun.
With another curse, he tried to slow the motorcycle down, the speed reckless now on the precarious, twisting road. But there was nothing he could do. The brakes were shot. Fear and dread like nothing he’d ever known filled him and he turned to look back at Carla, burning the image of her face in to his memory.
“I love you,” he said.
“Wha–” Carla didn’t even have time to form the whole word before they were skidding off the side of the road and into the rocky, tree lined ditch. Joel watched as Carla was thrown to one side while his body was jerked towards the other. He had a moment to think of just how beautiful she really was, like an angel sent down from heaven, before he collided into the trunk of a massive tree and the whole world went dark.
*
Carla blinked her eyes open slowly, painfully. The sun was already setting behind the mountains, casting them into blue and purple shadows but even the dim light left sent agonizing spikes pounding through her head. She felt like someone was plying a jackhammer to her frontal cortex. To her entire body, now that she thought about.
She knew she was lying on the ground because she could feel the gravel and hard rocks poking through her clothes and jabbing into her skin. It hurt to move but it also hurt to stay still and she had to bite back a groan as she rolled to one side.
She knew she was on the ground, yes, but she didn’t know why. Carla turned her head but didn’t see any nearby buildings or landmarks and it made her nauseous to try so she stopped, instead just focusing on moving her toes and fingers one by one. Nothing seemed broken but it was too hard to tell. Her entire body felt like a mass of scrapes and bruises and aches but none seemed sharper than any other. That had to be a good sign, right?
Finally, she was able to prop herself up enough to sit, swinging her legs around and the world seemed to right itself a little, rather than the slow, dizzying spiral of when she’d been laying prone. Carla took a deep breath, looking around and that’s when her gaze fell on him. Joel.
It all came back in a rush. Going to the office, finding the evidence, the confrontation with Maurice and Maurice’s gun. Joel had stopped him, he’d saved them and they had gotten away on Joel’s bike but something had been wrong. Maurice had chased them and something had gone wrong with the bike. Then they had crashed.
Well, at least she had an answer now as to why she’d been laying on the ground, but she couldn’t take her eyes away from Joel’s form. He wasn’t moving. In fact, he almost didn’t seem to be breathing at all and that realization sent pain more terrible than anything else she’d suffered ricocheting through her.
It propelled her up and she started a shambling half run, half stumble to where he was laid out on the other side of the street. His motorcycle was spread out, strewn across the pavement in more pieces that she could count and she had to stop her mind, her thoughts from concentrating on the horror of it. She could only focus on one thing, that Joel was okay. He had to be. She wouldn’t accept anything else.
Before she could take more than a few steps, though, another sound caught her attention. A car screeching to a halt, a door slamming. The sound of labored breaths and heavy footsteps running down the road towards them.
A moment of hope shot through her. Someone had seen the accident and stopped to help them. But that hope died a quick and painful death as Maurice, the left side of his face bloodied from the early fall, came into view. And he was right by Joel.
“No! Leave him alone!” Carla tried to call out, but her lips felt swollen and unwieldy and her mouth felt full of cotton.
“I’m not going to mess with your precious boyfriend, Carla, he already took care of himself for me,” Maurice giggled then, bending down to pick up the gun that had been thrown from where Joel had tucked it to land in the grass. He stood again and slowly turned towards her and the look of absolute hatred gleaming darkly in his small, piercing eyes froze her on the spot.
She couldn’t run, she was too injured and she wouldn’t make it far before getting a bullet in the back. Her only option was to try and talk him out of it. Maybe she could reason with him. Hah, that would be the day. What a hilarious thought. Reason, with the mad man pointing a gun at her face.
“Why are you laughing? Stop laughing!” Maurice said, waving the gun at her and it drew Carla up short. She hadn’t even realized she had been. She opened her mouth to say something, anything to try and say her life but she was too late. She could see it in his eyes, she could see it in the way his finger tensed on the trigger, squeezing it, squeezing it.
She closed her eyes, waiting for the end. There was a pop and she knew the bullet was coming. She knew it was all over.