Chapter Eighteen
We traveled along a bumpy dirt road and every time we hit a pothole, my body would jolt forward and I’d gasp, my teeth knocking together. I held onto Dylan tightly, my forehead pressed against his back. My stomach was turning over and over again and I wasn’t sure why, but I was nervous. Probably because I’d never faced confrontation like this before.
An old dusty trailer finally came into view and I glanced over at Jessica. Her own gaze was one of terrified unease. I’d never really dealt with abuse victims before so I didn’t know what to expect from her. I just thought she was brave for facing her fears and showing us where her husband was. I couldn’t even imagine how I’d feel if someone asked me to do that. Luckily I’d never have to. Dylan was a dream.
We pulled into the driveway that led up to the beaten trailer. The closer we got, however, the more worn and abandoned the trailer appeared to be. I chewed my lip, feeling more than a little nervous as we parked our bikes. Something just wasn’t right; it didn’t look like anyone had lived in this trailer for years.
Mold grew up the side of it and the roof had caved in from rust and rain. The grass was too tall and the door was barely hanging on by one hinge. Dylan looked just as concerned and glanced over at Jessica.
“Are you sure this is your place?” he asked, not looking convinced.
Jessica was chewing on her bottom lip now and I could see little drops of blood starting to form where her teeth bit into the soft flesh. “Um, yeah. This is my house,” she said.
Oh, fuck. Something was very wrong. I was a second away from making Dylan turn back when I heard the distinct noise of gun hammers being pulled back. A chorus of them echoed in my ears as a group of bikers stepped out from around the trailer, training their guns on us.
Fear coursed through my veins and I felt an icy coolness in my limbs. My throat was dry and my eyes were wet with tears that threatened to spill down my cheeks. I wanted to play it cool, I wanted to be a badass and I wanted Dylan to be proud of me, but in this moment all I could think to do was curl up and hide behind him, dropping my head between his shoulders.
I could feel the stare of the other bikers as they took us in, clearly trying to assess whether or not we would put up a fight. I could hear Dylan’s heart racing and I knew this was bad. Most of the bikers on our side were unarmed. Dylan and a few of the others had guns, but we were vastly outnumbered.
“What do you want, Coyote?” Dylan asked, his voice low in his throat.
“You know what we want, Dylan. Don’t play coy. I don’t have time for your bullshit. You guys are out here playing good samaritans, but I have bigger fish to fry.”
I glanced around Dylan’s shoulder for just a moment, wanting to see the man we were up against. He was a tall, burly guy with at least a hundred pounds and twenty years on Dylan. He was hairy from the top of his head, down to his exposed chest. He was everything I’d imagined when I thought ‘biker’, and not in a good way. These were the guys I’d spent my life being afraid of.
“We want the girl,” Coyote said.
“Jessica? Who is she to you?” Dylan asked.
Jessica hopped off the bike and dropped her head, scurrying over to Coyote’s. I watched, stunned and hurt as the woman I’d taken under my wing abandoned us. Coyote smiled and pulled a little baggie of crushed up rocks and handed it to the girl. He was paying her with meth.
“Thanks for bringing them here, doll. They’re a lot easier to handle when they have their guard down.”
I had to bite back a snarl at that comment, glaring at Coyote from around Dylan. Coyote just chuckled and crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you going to hand her over easy? Or are we going to have to take her from you?” he asked menacingly.
“Go to hell!” Dylan spat, his lips drawn back into a snarl.
“Your choice,” Coyote said casually.
His men drew their weapons and soon every single person on our side had a gun trained at their heads. A little red dot from a laser sight was poised at the center of Dylan’s head, but he didn’t flinch. He was ready to lay his life down for me, but I wasn’t going to let that happen.
I jumped up, eyes wide. “WAIT!” I gasped, standing beside the bike.
Dylan swung his head around and stared at me, wide-eyed and confused by my actions. “What the hell are you doing?!” he snapped, an edge of fear just under his words.
I looked at Dylan and I knew my eyes were glistening with tears. I knew I looked terrified because I was. My hands shook just a little as I stared Coyote down. “Wait…”
Coyote cocked a brow and looked me up and down. “I’m waiting…”
“I’ll go with you, okay?” I whispered, my voice shaking from the effort of trying to keep my calm. “I’ll go with you.”
“Like hell you will Alex!” Dylan yelled.
I swung around and stared at him, an intensity burning in my belly that I’d never felt before. “I am not your responsibility.” I threw my hand out, motioning to the other bikers parked around me. “These men are your responsibility. You’re their leader and if you don’t let me go with them, all of your men are going to be dead! The men you promised to lead and protect! I won’t be the reason you break that promise! You owe them everything, and so do I, so don’t try and stop me, Dylan. You told me that you’re out there to protect the ones who can’t protect themselves. I can. I’m making my own decision and don’t you dare get your ass killed by being rash!” I said, my throat going dry.
Dylan just stared at me, though he didn’t respond. I took his silence as a sign of understanding. He knew it just as well as I did that either I went with Coyote or we all died. I turned and walked towards the line of armed bikers, glancing back at Dylan before Coyote grabbed me around the waist and threw me onto his bike.
As the bike roared to life, I heard the sound of Dylan’s anguished scream.