“Can I get you anything?” Honey whispered too close to her ear and Carla jumped, startled from where she sat on the stool in front of the bar. She rolled her eyes at him, but couldn’t help the small smile that curled her lips at his precociousness.
“No, I’m okay.”
“You sure? Because you look like a nervous wreck,” he grinned at her, all mischief and dimples and dark, melting eyes and she felt a burst of pity for the poor girl that finally fell under his spell. “You know, I’ve got a pretty good cure for that.” Honey waggled his eyebrows exaggeratedly and Carla laughed.
“As tempting as that offer is, I think I’ll pass.”
“Ouch, you wound me,” he said in mock grief, rubbing his chest as if fending off a physical blow and Carla chuckled again before her gaze was once more drawn back to the intense conversation happening in the back corner of the bar. It was Joel, Tucker, Hot Wheels, and her contact Sparkplug. It had taken a few hours for him to arrive, hours that had been packed full with trying to get the shipment ready to move.
They’d been deep in quiet, but tense conversation for the past hour and the time was starting to wear on her.
“You know what, maybe I will take a drink,” she said suddenly. After the day she’d had, she could certainly use another and it might just help distract her until the talks were finally over.
“That’s the spirit!” Honey said with a smile as he went to go pour her a glass of her usual and she turned resolutely back towards the bar, away from the huddled group.
“So, I overheard you talking to Elle a little bit ago on the phone,” Honey slid her the glass of whiskey and she shook her head at his lack of shame.
“She gets worried about me. I didn’t come home last night,” Carla said and then immediately blushed. Honey just arched a brow but miraculously didn’t say anything. Instead, his focus was all on her friend.
“Maybe you could give me her number? That way if anything happens or if, you know, you end up staying here too late one night I could always give her a call and reassure her,” he said slyly, glancing down as he shuffled bottles around on the shelf behind the bar.
“Hah! Nice try,” Carla said, taking a small sip of her drink, “I’m not giving you her number. It would be like feeding an innocent lamb to the wolves.”
“Hey! I disagree with that analogy. Although,” he said, leaning forward and dropping his voice an octave, “I have been known to bite on occasion.”
“You are incorrigible,” Carla said with a snorted laugh and another shake of her head. Honey just shrugged with a grin.
“I know. It’s part of my charm.” His smile quickly faded and Carla looked behind her to see what had caused it only to find Joel standing there, his expression hard enough to break rocks.
“We just got a tip from Chico, our lookout,” Joel said grimly, “The cops are on the way. We’re moving now.”
It was like a flip had been switched. Everyone burst into action immediately and he grabbed Carla’s hand, dragging her back towards the table where Hot Wheels and Tucker still sat with Sparkplug.
As they neared the table, Carla could see that everyone’s expressions held a hard edge of nerves, and Sparkplug, a muscular man almost as big as TuckerTucker--which was saying something--looked as if he wished he were anywhere else.
But without hesitation they each took Joel’s clipped orders, nodding before rushing out to do what needed to be done.
“Hot Wheels, Tucker, you two take the truck,” Joel glanced at the new man, “Sparkplug, you–”
“I’ll cover Hot Wheels, I mean, both of them. I’m sticking with the truck,” his voice was respectful of the Dirty Cruisers second in command, but there a note in his tone that clearly said it wasn’t up for debate. Carla looked from Sparkplug to Hot Wheels, who was currently blushing a soft pink and wondered briefly what was going on there.
“Alright,” Joel finally said after a long minute, “Viper, you ride with him. Keep the shipment safe.”
That was all before he grabbed Carla’s hand once more, weaving through the crowd of scurrying people to get outside.
“Come on. You’re riding with me.” Joel tossed her a spare helmet as he threw one leg over his bike.
“Where are we going?” she asked as she strapped it on and walked towards him.
“There’s a safe house near the Utah border. We’ll meet up with the truck and everybody there, get this weed out of our hands, and then everything can go back to normal.” He revved the engine just as she slid on behind him, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. The rest of the crew was scattering as well and, in a matter of moments, the clubhouse and parking lot were nearly empty.
“You ready?” he called.
“Yes. Let’s go.” Joel barely waited for her answer before he was taking off as well.
Carla wasn’t sure how long they had been on the long stretch of highway, empty but for them, maybe twenty or thirty minutes, before suddenly a large truck, similar to the seventeen footer she had first driven the shipment in, appeared ahead them as if out of nowhere.
“Different routes,” Joel shouted to explain. “They took a different turn off just in case someone was followed.” Carla just nodded. It was so loud on the back of the speeding motorcycle that she wasn’t about to try to reply.
Soon enough Joel caught up to them and Sparkplug and Viper each had taken a side, while Joel hung to the back. Their eyes were never still, constantly moving, constantly scoping to make sure that they weren’t being followed by the cops.
It made a prickle formin between her shoulder blades and she hitched them uncomfortably.
Probably just being paranoid, Carla thought, trying to shake the feeling of being watched but it persisted.
Instead of dissipating, the feeling only grew stronger and soon Carla found herself peering around just as insistently as Joel and the rest of the bikers. She tried to convince herself it was nothing but a new, rumbling sound made her jolt from where she was sitting on the back of the motorcycle. She glanced behind her and her worst fears were confirmed. There was an unmarked car coming up behind them, fast, faster than it should have, and as it neared, Carla’s stomach knotted painfully in fear. She recognized the driver. It was Maurice.
“Joel! Joel! We have a problem!” Carla had to scream the words to be heard over the sound of the tearing wind and roaring engine.
“What? Did you say something?” Joel yelled back over his shoulder and frustrated, Carla waved her hand in front of her face, pointing behind them to the rapidly approaching car.
“It’s Maurice!”
“Fuck!” Joel cursed in reply and Carla silently agreed with him. What were they going to do now? He was right on their tail, so close that she could see his expression of vindictive triumph that twisted his face.
But Joel was already moving, already planning on how to get them out of this situation. It’s what made him such a good leader, his ability to adapt to any curveball thrown at him and part of her was awed to watch it in action as he rode up beside one person and the next, calmly informing them of the car following them, and telling them what to do next.
That awe was eclipsed though as Sparkplug, and the truck with Hot Wheels and Tucker started to fall back while Joel and Viper took the lead, getting farther and farther away from the other riders.
“What are they doing?” Carla finally asked, watching in confusion as the truck continued to slow.
“It’s an old trick,” he shouted, “Just watch and hope that it works!” They continued to ride forward but Carla’s gaze was glued behind her as Maurice refused to give up the chase. Her heart was beating so hard she could hear it even over the sound of the bike and she couldn’t swallow the sudden lump that had formed in her throat. She didn’t even realize just how tightly she clung to Joel as she waited for them to act.
Carla gasped as Tucker suddenly hit the brakes of the truck, the screech so loud and jarring that she cringed, but Maurice reacted exactly the way Joel had said he would. He slammed on his brakes, swearing violently to the right because Sparkplug had cut off any route to the left and as his car jerked to the shoulder only then did Carla see what Joel had all along.
Almost hidden by the curving mountain roads was a runaway ramp made out of dirt and meant for semis that lost control in the cold, icy winter months. It was a steep ramp and once Maurice was on it, it was impossible for him to brake and turn around.
Carla held her breath as the truck resumed its speed along with Sparkplug and soon they were all riding together again. There was no sign of Maurice as the road turned even more mountainous, curving wildly and turning back on itself in an endless tangled ribbon of concrete.
After twenty minutes and still no sign of Maurice, Carla finally drew a breath, relaxing slightly against Joel’s back as she held him close. She swore she heard a deep, satisfied rumble from him, almost a purr but the sound was lost once more to the wind and engines of the bikes. But it was official. They had lost Maurice.
She wondered briefly how he had been able to track them so easily in the first place, if the cops hadn’t even been able to, but the thought was lost as Joel road up beside Sparkplug.
“We should split up. We’ll meet at the safe house!” he yelled at the man, who just nodded affirmative in return. Joel road up to Viper and said the same thing. Tucker already had the orders. And with that, Joel revved the engine once more and took off across the highway, leaving the others receding behind them.
Carla laughed as adrenaline and a sudden joy filled her, a freedom that she had only ever felt with him, with Joel. The freedom to be herself, the freedom to not be scared of what life would bring. The freedom to be happy.