Havok: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (27 page)

I
exited the convenience store
, leaving the temporary air-conditioned paradise and returning to the baking outdoors. It was late in the afternoon, and the desert day had reached peak hotness.

Axl stood next to his bike, nervously shifting his weight from foot to foot. As I approached him, I saw that he held a lit cigarette between his fingers. He held the other hand over his injured shoulder, blocking the bloodied and torn bullet hole from any nosy passers-by. I felt sorry for him. But he looked even more like a handsome movie star badass than before.

Damn. If only he'd gotten picked up by a Hollywood agent instead of a dirty biker club, his life would've turned out a lot differently.

"Didn't know you smoked," I said.

"Bummed it off a guy. Only on special occasions."

He brought the cigarette to his lips and took another drag. "What now?" I asked. No one was within earshot, but my voice came out almost a whisper.

"Gotta split ASAP. Cops are gonna get our description."

"They'll be looking for a guy and a girl on a motorcycle," I said. Suddenly I felt very nervous about standing next to Axl and his bike, here in the convenience store parking lot.

Axl thought a moment. "Yeah," he said with a sigh. "Gotta ditch the bike." He sighed.

Axl finished up his smoke, grabbed a couple things from the bike's saddlebags, and said, "Come on." We left the bike sitting there and headed around the back of the store. A couple cars sat parked next to a large dumpster.

"Looks like we're driving a fuckin' cage today," Axl said.

He proceeded to jimmy open the driver's door of a crappy little Honda hatchback using a piece of wire from the dumpster. I eyed the rear employee exit of the store nervously as he did so, and it felt like days passed. But in reality he had the thing busted open and started in what was probably less than two minutes.

We got in the "cage," as he called it, and hit the road again.

I watched the passenger side mirror nervously throughout the whole ride, watching for blue and red lights in the background. They didn't come. Thank God.

Axl took us to a small town whose name I didn't know, and we found a dinky little military surplus store.

"You've gotta go in alone," said Axl, "Can't do it myself with this shoulder." His jacket was badly stained and caked with blood. Yeah. That would've been a mistake.

He sent me in with a short list, and I got us changes of clothes, a small tent, and a couple boxes of freeze-dried foods. I wasn't looking forward to eating this crap, but what choice did we have? We were now two fugitives on the run, and I guessed we weren't gonna be staying in any more motel rooms for a while.

We filled up the car and then we drove again. We sat in silence in the stolen vehicle. I could tell that Axl's mind was troubled. Not because of his hurt shoulder, but because of something else. Because of the man who'd tried to shoot us back at Four Corners. Because of who the man was. A Demon, who was apparently a member of a friendly motorcycle club, who shouldn't have been involved in this Reaper dispute.

And inside, I was troubled, too. Not because he'd been a Demon. Simply because he'd been a man.

I was conflicted, my morality gnawing at me. The clarity of mind that I'd felt earlier as we rode away from Four Corners had faded away, and I was starting to question myself more than ever. Was I becoming just like the bikers? Were these kind of justifications the way that people descended into a lifetime of crime?

I felt sorry for myself, and then for the man, and then for neither one of us. And I seemed to repeat the cycle over and over again in my head. I didn't think I'd ever be able to be like Axl. To be able to ruthlessly kill, remorselessly, for those I loved. I'd done it once but I didn't think I'd be able to do it again. And I really hoped I wouldn't have to make the choice again.

Axl finally spoke up as I watched the pavement go by outside. It was dusk outside, the Arizona sky a beautiful canvas of oranges, blues, and purples. "We camp tonight in Devil's Canyon."

I'd never heard of Devil's Canyon, and it didn't sound like a place I wanted to be. But what choice did we have?

We reached the canyon after nightfall. It was an isolated, desolate area, and the canyon was less a majestic place, more a filthy rock pit. But under the starry night sky as we pitched the tent, I finally felt a little bit of mental calmness for the first time since Four Corners. No one would find us out here. Not tonight.

Inside the tent, we lay side by side under a couple of rough blankets that'd come with the military surplus tent, our bodies not touching.

Then, Axl's hand wandered over mine, and onto my stomach. He pressed his hand against the hard muscles of my belly, and then began to slide his hand up to my breasts. Turning onto his side to face me, he cupped my left breast in his hand under my t-shirt, the rough calluses on his palm scratching against my nipple.

"Babe," he said, "I fuckin' want you so bad right now."

Inside the tent, it was pitch black and we couldn't see each other's faces. But if he'd been able to see mine, it would've been a frown. I wanted him, too, for him to fill me up again just like he'd done at the motel. I wanted him to give me everything, and to lose myself in ecstasy for just a while. But I was exhausted, and it just didn't feel right after what I'd done to that Demon earlier.

I pushed Axl's hand away from my breast. "Can you just hold me?" I asked.

Suddenly his demeanor turned cold. He grunted. "Whatever," he said. I felt him turn away from me instead of putting his arm around me like I wanted him to. Soon, his breath became regular, rising and falling in a sleep cycle.

I lay on my back, staring straight up in the darkness. Sleep came slowly, and when it finally overtook me, my dreams were nightmares.

W
hen I returned
to the wakeful world, green light was filtering through the camouflage fabric of the tent. For a fucked-up minute, I couldn't remember where I was.

Then I felt the pain in my shoulder and everything came back to me. I rolled over to where Holly had been lying next to me, but the woman was gone.

I vaguely remembered blowing her off when she didn't wanna fuck. Shit. I felt like a real asshole over that. But I'd needed a release so fuckin' bad after yesterday.

And God, I still did now. My cock was rock hard under a pair of boxer briefs that we'd picked up at the surplus store. As I lay on my back, I reached down and wrapped one hand around my stiff tool. Fuck, I was so hard, but no way was I gonna pressure her. I wasn't a fuckin' brute and I could tell she had shit on her mind. But I had to get a release.

I spit on my hand, reached under the fabric of my boxers, and wrapped my hand around my erect dick. I began to jerk my hand up and down the length of my shaft. In my mind I pictured Holly there next to me, naked and on her knees, begging me to take her.

Jesus, I wanted to have her again so bad. I'd never felt like this about any chick before. I thought back to the way her firm ass had felt pressed against my hips as I plowed into her, balls deep. I squeezed my hand harder around my cock and jerked faster, recalling how her perky little breasts had felt in the palms of my hands as I'd exploded inside her. And it pushed me over the edge.

"Oh, fuck," I said under my breath. My dick began to pulse, shooting its creamy, pent-up load all over my t-shirt and the blanket. But I didn't give a fuck. It felt so fucking good to get off to her. Next time it had better fucking be inside her.

I took off my bloodied t-shirt and used it to clean up, and realized how hot it was in the tent. Jesus. I pulled my jeans on, opened the flap, and stepped outside into the hot, bright blue morning.

I felt a clarity of mind that I hadn't had in the last couple days. I was pretty sure that this bullshit with the Demons was being driven directly by fucking Vargas. That fat piece of Reaper shit was reckless enough to try turning the Demons against the Sons.

My train of thought was interrupted by Holly. I saw her standing by the cage, and she was topless also. She held one of our water jugs and she was scrubbing her shirt between her hands. She hadn't noticed me yet, and I watched her beautiful body as she worked. Her skin was light and pale in the morning sun, her waist slender and her breasts tight against her chest. God, she was gorgeous. My cock stiffened in my pants again, and I felt like no amount of release would be enough. Trying to drain my balls with her around was like trying to drain the fucking Niagara Falls.

I walked toward her and the cage. When she noticed me approaching, she turned toward me and crossed her arms over her chest. I grinned at her.

"Don't stop, darlin'" I said. I could see her eyes roaming over my bare chest and six pack. But then I saw them turn to the wound on my shoulder, and she furrowed her brow, still crossing her arms and hiding her breasts.

"How's the shoulder?" she asked.

I extended my arm and rotated my shoulder, stretching and testing the muscles. There were no more sharp pains, just a dull ache. "Better," I said. "Fucking glad the bullet didn't lodge. Could've gotten real nasty."

"Does it feel infected?"

I shrugged. "Nah. Never had a problem with that kinda thing." It was true. I'd gotten pretty fucked up on a few occasions, but I always bounced back fast. My body was a tank that just couldn't be stopped.

"Hmm," she said, still looking at the wound disapprovingly.

I stepped toward her, moving to put my hands on her waist, grinning at her. But, she turned her cheek and moved away. "Whatever," she said, and I realized she was mocking what I said to her last night. I just cracked a smile at her. I wasn't even mad. She looked hot as fuck.

"You gonna get dressed?" I said.

"Actually, yeah. Would you mind?"

"Not at all." I grinned again.

"Ugh. Turn around."

I laughed and turned away. But then I turned back, just in time to see her pulling the still-wet t-shirt over her head, sliding it down over her chest. She pulled it down quickly and slapped my arm. "Axl!"

I laughed. "Damn girl," I said. "That thing better dry out fast or I'm not gonna be able to think about anything else today." I stared at her nipples, outlined in the damp fabric.

"Enjoy it while it lasts, pervert," she said.

"Alright," I said, using all my willpower to pry my eyes away. "Seriously, though, we've gotta make our next move. And I know what it is."

"What?"

"Vargas. That fat guy back at the junkyard. Remember him?"

"Yes."

"This shit ain't gonna end 'til he's gone. History. He's a warmongering freak and the shit between our clubs is gonna get worse long as he's around."

"You're going to kill someone else?" said Holly. Her expression was one of worry.

I paused before answering. "Yeah. I got to."

"Isn't that just going to fan the flames?"

"Don't think so," I said. "All Reapers are shit, but their VP ain't as shitty as Vargas. Worked with him before, a practical guy, not a fuckin' maniac. Someone the Sons could work with. And from what I hear, he wouldn't pursue vengeance on the Sons if something happened to Vargas. Hates the guy himself, wants to take over the Reapers."

"And," I added, "Could be my only chance to get back in my club's good graces."

Holly frowned. I could tell she didn't like this at all. But it wasn't a choice. "Do more people really have to die?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said, nodding. "Yeah they do."

I
didn't want
any more violence and killing. All night, I'd had nightmares about yesterday. In my head, I kept going back and forth about what happened. Whether I'd been justified in what I did. Whether I'd be able to live with myself, knowing that I'd taken a person's life. Whether I'd have been able to live with myself if I
hadn't
done what I did.

I was conflicted, and I was more than a little afraid of what I was capable of.

This wasn't the direction I'd envisioned my life taking. And Axl was not the kind of man who would have fit into my old life.

But this was my new life and there was no going back. College, graduation, and my documentary, which were the most important things to me just a week before, now seemed a distant memory. When the Reapers had come after me in my own house, it changed everything.

Before that, I still could've somehow gone to the cops. But after Axl rescued me, going to the cops would've meant turning him in. And I couldn't make myself do it then.

Now it was too late even for that. Now, going to the cops would mean turning myself in as well.

I was in this deep. Way too deep to think about getting out now. And against my own best interests, I was falling for Axl. I was changing. And I didn't know who—or what—I would to be when I came out the other side.

It scared me and I tried to fight it. I looked in his eyes, feeling the breeze pass over my damp t-shirt. It cooled my body, providing a much-needed respite from the heat.

"Axl," I said, "More death can't be the answer."

He shook his head. "You're wrong, doll. It is the answer."

"Why? Look where it's gotten us. Living out of a stolen car, in a crappy tent in the middle of the desert."

"Holly," he said, "It's either out here, or six feet under. I told you before. This life chose me, and it chose you too. Adapt or die."

"I can't stop thinking about yesterday," I confessed. "It's really bothering me. Like, a lot." I felt like I might cry, but I steeled myself and resolved not to let it happen in front of Axl.

He sighed. "Walk with me," he said, and reached out. I put my hand in his, and we started to walk around the perimeter of Devil's Canyon.

"Lemme tell you about the first time I killed a man," he said. It felt really weird to hear him say that. And even weirder to identify with it.

"I met the Sons when I was sixteen. Just got my license, and my foster dad got me a cheap Japanese dirtbike. Rode it everywhere. Loved that fuckin' thing. Anyway, I started hangin' out with other guys who rode bikes, and kept crossin' paths with Ryker and another young cat named Dash. Found out they were part of an MC—the Sons. They had a place to belong. I didn't. But they brought me in, and that was somethin' I'd never had before. I got to be tight with them.

"They started bringing me along on deals. I was a prospect. One day we had a drug drop-off with another crew. Don't remember which. Anyway, I was posted up on the roof of a building, keepin' an eye on the deal. Shit went south, and one of their guys pulled out a knife. Looked like he was gonna shank Dash in the back. Real fuckin' bitch move. So I pulled out the old revolver they'd given me, and I lit the fucker up."

I let the story sink in before speaking. "And how did it make you feel?"

The rocks crunched beneath our feet as we walked. When I almost lost my footing, Axl yanked me back up. Even the pull of my entire weight didn't throw him off balance.

"Shitty," he admitted. "Real fucking shitty. You gotta be a monster to not feel that," he said. "Like Vargas. He's a fucking psychopath." He continued, "But it was either him or Dash. And maybe more of our guys too. And eventually me. That's the way it works on the streets. Them or you."

His words made sense, and sounded just like what I'd been thinking yesterday. It made me feel a little better, but it also scared me that I was thinking the same way as a grizzled biker. I kept trying to fight the feeling. "Why not just walk away from it all?" I said.

Axl shook his head. "And do what? Live alone and flip burgers all day? I got nothin' except the club."

"It's not too late for you," I said. "What if we fix this somehow. Get back to normal life. Move far away."

Axl chuckled. "It
is
too late for me, darlin'. I got too much blood on my hands." His smile slowly faded. "But you don't. For you, it's not too late. You ain't gonna forget what happened yesterday, but don't let it eat at ya. Remember what I said. Them or us. That guy woulda killed me and then you. It was self defense. Believe me."

"What about the cops?" I asked. It freaked me out to think of my face on a wanted poster. I felt paranoid, sure that they would find us.

Axl rolled his eyes. "What about 'em? Ain't no evidence on you, and let me tell you somethin'. You think cops give a shit about a couple bikers killin' each other? Well, they fuckin' don't. They care long enough for the public to forget about it. That's why we're out here. We ride out the shitstorm, and soon it'll be just another unsolved mystery in a cardboard box, in the basement of the police station. Ain't nobody gonna suspect a damn thing about you."

His words made sense. For the first time since it'd happened, I felt some peace of mind. What I did didn't make me a monster. It was them or us.

"Is that what you want?" he said. "I can keep you safe while I take out Vargas. Get this shit over with. Then you can go back home."

I stopped walking and turned toward him. "What do
you
want?" I asked. "What is this, anyway?"

We were still holding hands, his right in my left. He took my other hand too. "I don't know, doll," he said. "Do what you gotta do. I ain't tryin' to drag you down to my level. But if you stay, then as far as I'm concerned you're my old lady."

I stood there, holding his hands, the sun beating down on us. We were all alone in Devil's Canyon, no one around us, no one to influence my decision either way. I weighed the options. Wait for this to blow over and go back home and never see him again, or take a chance on this. To let the lifestyle choose me. And to be his old lady.

In that moment, I changed, and I knew what I'd become. Not a ruthless killer, but a stronger woman. One who'd do what she had to do to protect those she loved.

Loved? Did I really think that?

I felt pretty sure, but I couldn't bring myself to say it. Not quite yet.

I looked into his eyes, full of life and energy, and marveled at his beauty. Even out here, completely in the rough, he was a gorgeous, strong man. He didn't need anything or anyone. He was just living life by his own rules. They were chaotic rules, but they weren't evil ones.

I wasn't going anywhere.

"Well," I said, "You gonna kiss your old lady or what?"