The Blades exited the interstate in Gila Bend. Their bikes were nearing their limit on fuel and this was the best place to stop for gas, the near exact halfway point between Yuma and Tucson. They were going to fill their bikes, grab a quick drink, then make the final two-hour drag to the clubhouse.
They often rode for hours to make a delivery. The Blades made it a point to not sell in their own back yard, wanting to keep as much distance between manufacturing and distribution as possible. There was plenty of Hearts and Daggers in Tucson, but none of it was from local supply. Tucson, like most of Arizona, was being supplied by the Nasty Bastards out of Albuquerque, New Mexico.
He felt the woman squirming around behind him, the first time he felt her move since she’d draped her arms around him and snuggled into his back. He had to admit, it felt good to have a backwarmer again.
He was slowing in the center turn lane, waiting for a car to pass before he turned, when the bike suddenly weaved, its balance upset by the woman as she threw herself off the bike. He jammed on the brakes as she tumbled along the pavement, tried to get to her feet as she was skidding along, then fell again before coming to a stop. She immediately bounced back up, turned, and ran into the side of the car that was panic braking and swerving to avoid hitting her.
She tumbled back to the pavement but never stopped before bounding to her feet again and dashing across the road. He gunned the Indian, racing around the front of the car into the gravel area on the side of the road. She changed direction, running away from him as he kicked the side stand down and bounded from the machine, hoping the bike didn’t fall, but not having time to make sure it was stable.
She could run like a gazelle, but with his much longer legs and her weakened condition, he was able to chase her down. “Stop!” he called just before he caught her, dragging her to a stop. She fought like a wildcat, scratching, biting and kicking. He was at a severe disadvantage because he didn’t want to hurt her, but she didn’t have the same compunction about him.
He got her wrapped up, his hands on her wrist, turning her back into his chest as he crossed her arms in front of her, being careful to keep his hands away from her snapping teeth. “I’m not going to hurt you!” he yelled, holding her as she twisted and squirmed, kicking at his legs as he held her.
“Stop it! I’m not going to hurt you!” he cried, grunting with the effort of holding the storm he was trying to contain in his arms. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said again, more calmly as the fight went out of her. “Shhhh…I’m not going to hurt you.”
Finally, she slumped, either giving up or exhausted. The moment she relaxed he released her. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said one more time as he stepped back. “If you want to go, that’s fine. I won’t stop you. Next time, though, wait for the motorcycle to stop first. Are you okay?”
She obviously wasn’t okay. Her pants were torn, and he could see bloody and raw skin through the openings. Her hands and arms had a grim case of road rash, and her head was bleeding.
“What the fuck was that about?” Zane panted as he arrived, the rest of the brothers not far behind him.
“Damned if I know. I guess she had a panic attack.” Arsen looked her over. “Will you let me look at you?” he asked her.
She didn’t respond. He stepped up and looked at her head, the thing that worried him most. He pushed the hair back to see the bleeding cut, but it didn’t look as bad as he feared. “Jesus, you’re a mess,” he murmured as he looked at the hamburger that was the palms of her hands. “Thank god you waited until I was only doing about ten. If you’d pulled this stunt at seventy-five or eighty, I’d be scraping you up with a shovel. What were you thinking?” he asked. He didn’t expect an answer, and didn’t get one.
“Okay sister, enough fucking around. Nobody’s going to hurt you, but if you want to go, now’s your chance. It’s your choice. I’ll give you some money and you can walk off into the sunset if that’s what you want. But if you go with us again, no more jumping off moving motorcycles, okay?” He waited a moment. “I’m going back to my bike, then I’m crossing the street for gas. If you want to go with us, be there before we leave.”
He turned his back to her and began to walk away. He didn’t want to leave her, but he couldn’t have her bailing off the bike either. That was just fucked, and she could have taken him with her. Better she took her chances on foot than to do that stupid shit again.
As the Blades walked, Arsen glanced over his shoulder then stopped, allowing her to catch up. “Decided to come with us?” He took her wrist and towed her along to his bike. They mounted up and he rode it across the street for gas.
“That bitch is nothing but trouble,” Casey said. “Are you sure about this?”
“No,” Arsen admitted. “I don’t know what got into her. She was fine until I got off the interstate. I don’t know if what happened to her happened here, or what.”
“What if she does that again, but on the interstate?”
“Then she’ll die and she won’t be a problem anymore, will she?”
“Jesus, Arsen!”
“What do you want me to say, Casey? That she won’t do it again? I don’t know that.”
“I’m just worried about what she’ll do next, that’s all.”
Arsen sighed. “You think I’m not? She was on the back of my bike. If something happens, it’s all on me.” The pump clicked off and he hung up the nozzle and twisted the cap back on the tank. “Come on. Let’s go see what they’ve got to clean you up.”
As they walked into the attached store, he noticed she was already limping. He shook his head. He couldn’t get his mind around her jumping off his bike like that. He started with four bottles of water, then searched until he found the aisle with medical supplies. He picked up a box of big square bandages, some spray antiseptic that also said it would relieve pain, and a bottle of ibuprofen.
He paid for everything, then handed her a water bottle. She handled it gingerly because of her sore hands, and couldn’t open it.
“Sorry,” he said, opening it for her and letting her drink for a moment. Then he pointed to the curb. “Sit,” he said, and she did. “This is going to hurt.”
He took her free hand and poured water over it in a slow stream, rinsing out the worst of the blood and dirt. She flinched but didn’t make a sound. He patted her hand dry before dousing it with the spray and sticking one of the large bandages over it. He repeated the process on her other hand, both knees, and a couple of places on her arms. Her forehead he just cleaned and spritzed with the antiseptic.
By the time he was done, he used most of the three bottles of water, all but one of the bandages, and most of the antiseptic. He shook three ibuprofen into her hand. “Take those. Trust me, you’ll need them in a few hours.” He had to help her by pushing her hand toward her mouth, but she took the pills and washed them down with the last of her water.
“Good girl,” he said with a smile. He drank the last mouthful of water from one of the bottles, then stood. “Promise me you won’t do that again. Can you promise me?” She didn’t make a sound but looked down at her feet. “I’ll take that to mean yes. Come on,” he said, holding his hand out.
When she reached out, he took her hand as gently as he could and pulled her to her feet. Once she was standing, she griped his hand, holding onto it as she hobbled back to his bike. He stood his bike up and she stiffly climbed aboard. He cranked the Indian to life, letting it idle a moment to see what she did. After a moment her arms went around his waist again and his lips twisted into a sideways grin as he toed the bike into gear. He eased out of the gas station, taking it slow in case she got another wild urge to kill herself, then putt-putted along until they reached the entrance to the interstate.
Gritting his teeth, hoping she learned her lesson, he gave the throttle a firm twist, the big bike rocketing up to speed as he prepared to merge with traffic.