Tear Me Away (Desert Wraiths MC Romance) (7 page)

"No, 
you
 don't know her. And if she's not one of us it's for all the best fucking reasons."

"She's a flap in the wind. A big flap. We gotta batten down if we're gonna survive this."

"Fuck your flaps. Fuck your metaphors. This is not happening."

"It's already done. I sent Dyno and Trig a while back."

I revved the engine, summoning every ounce of training not to smash the phone and scream into the wind. Trig was almost as good a shot as me, even riding on saddle.

"When?"

"It doesn't matter Ghost. Come home. Are you going to turn on your brothers?"

"No." I jetted out of the lot, so the wind would scream over my voice and let him know I was coming. "I'm not you."

I shut the phone and spiked so deep I felt the juices spread down my spine, seep through every part of my body.

Hold on, Katie,
 I thought. 

Death is coming. But not for you.

Katie

"Sure you can make it for dinner?" Sandy said. I was lathering my hands in the changing room sink and she loomed over me with a big cartoonish smile. As if that would get me to break.

"I'm sure. Give me my towel."

"Honestly, I know we haven't hung in a while, but it's soooo cool with me if you have something else to do."

"I don't."

"Or someone."

I sighed and tried hiding by busying myself in my locker. I grabbed my purse and shut the door. Sandy's cheery smile waited on the other side. Ok, I could break a little. I giggled and brushed between her and the bench.

"Listen, if I do have a dat
e, I'll tell you. I promise, OK?"

"Alright," she chirped and followed me out into the hallway.

"I don't have anything lined up." I said.

"Bullshit," she said, just as cheerily.

I hadn’t told her exactly what had happened, but Gilsner was a small city, and our college was positively incestuous. Rumors were swirling about strange visitors to my house and visions of me in a biker club jacket. I never should have ridden that chopper here.

But then I thought of Ghost looming over me, drawing me into him. The sacrifice seemed more than worth it.

I wished Sandy were right. But although I could still taste those lips whenever I shut my eyes, there was no sign of them returning. I was still trying to convince myself that was probably a good thing.

A couple of the doctors beamed at us as we walked past. Their gazes split from our faces to our sundresses, and they washed them with looks until we were out of sight. Something seemed to have changed about me the past three days. It was like a light had come above me signaling that I was ready to feel again. My looks certainly hadn't changed much but I must be putting on some other energy. Something that had been activated in that kiss. I felt it in the ease of my steps, the smile that seemed to linger in my voice.

Not to mention in darker and more private places whenever I was by myself. I wasn't a stranger to these feelings. I mean, I had been a girl in high school. But I had never fully seen where they led. When my parents had died, all of my desires had died too. Apparently they weren't lost to me forever.

We coursed out the building doors and the world showed in crisp clarity under the pouring sunlight. I felt
like I could see the whole Earth if I just squinted enough.

"Is Barry going to be there?" I asked.

"Stuntman Barry?"

"You know that's not a title right? He's not a prince."

"At least you agree he's a stuntman. And no he won't be there. He's in LA on business."

For Sandy's sake I held back my eye roll. It was Friday and I wanted nothing more than to spend it lounging with my best friend.
 

Nothing more realistic, at least.

We had just left the covered walkway leading up to the hospital entrance, when two men walked up to us.

"Ms. Phillips?" one asked.

“
Uh, yeah?" I stopped at his chest.

They both wore dark suits that hung loose on their lean bodies and thick, dark shades. They looked like they were trying to project calm but I couldn't help but notice that the one in the back seemed tense.

"Ms. Phillips, my name is Agent Olsen. This is Agent Tarly. We're with the FBI. We're hoping to ask you some questions regarding the murder of a Shane Tyrell."

My throat dried up like the land around me, but I had an honest question to ask. "Who?"

The agent held up a phone. Through the glare, I saw the face of the man who had come staggering through the night at me before he ran out of blood.

"She doesn't know anything." Sandy shouted, and nodded at me.

Maybe I should just marry her. Always coming to my rescue. But this was too much. "I don't really know him," I said, scrounging for truth.

"That's fine," Agent Olsen said. "We'd just like you to come with us and get that on record."

Agent Tarly nodded quickly behind him.

"Come with you where?" I asked. I knew once they had me in a room I would not hold up. I had some rights, right? I didn't have to go.

"We have our field office set up just nearby."

He tipped his glasses towards a bunch of houses. I didn't see where he was pointing though, cause I was too busy looking at his eyes. They looked yellow. I guessed FBI agents didn't really do the whole work-life balance thing, but this guy looked plain sick.

I took another expansive look and realized everything was wrong. The slick suits weren't loose, they were the wrong size. Agent Tarly was in sneakers, and even through his shades he wasn't able to hold my eyes. He kept scanning the area, searching for something. The two looked as nervous as I did.

"I think I need to talk to a lawyer first."
 I took a step back, towards the safety of the hospital.

Sandy took my wrist and became one with me. "We'll just go right in and check with our boss
about what to do," she said.

"That's not a good idea." Olsen took a step my way, one hand moving for his waist. The words were meant to come out neutral but ended as a growling threat.

I was about to scream for help, when suddenly the air boomed with a rolling thunder.

No, not thunder, a chopper engine revving hard.

The fake agents jumped near me. All four of us turned to see the wide handles of a chopper charging up the curb directly toward us.

"Oh shit," Tarly shouted, and his voice sounded like he was drunk. "It's the freak."

The freak. The Harley roared closer and I could see the side. It was tan. My heart leapt, as I saw a blonde trim of hair, rising just above the handlebars.

He was coming to save me.

Tarly's hand rose with a thick metal gun. His sleeve fell back and I saw a winding tattoo lead up his arm. Sand Scorpions, it read.

Bikers.

"Get the girl," he shouted.

"Fuck the bitch." Olsen's hand slung out a darker gun. "Waste this mutant fuck."

The air burst near me and my ears rang. The air exploded again. They were both shooting. Shooting at Ghost.

At Bryan.

Sandy was screaming and clutching her ears on the ground. The guns barked again. I couldn't stop myself from blinking but I recovered quicker. The motorcycle continued to bear down on our spot. The front must be enough to shield him.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out syringes. I carried them around all the time now. It was just a couple, something to counter adrenaline and a tranq for a harder dull. On the off chance that Ghost came charging back into my life. Which he had. But these wouldn't be for him.

The air burst in another round of shots. I screamed over them, and dropped to the floor. With everything I had, I swung the tranq needle deep into the butt of ‘Agent Olsen.’

He barked and scowled down at me. Ever so glacially, his gun swung towards my face. Sandy screamed and shoved him forward. He went tumbling into Tarly and his next gunshot fractured the pavement near us.

The motorcycle went roaring past us. Empty.

I looked back, expecting to see the worst.

Instead, I saw the most beautiful and fearsome sight in my short life. Ghost had rolled off the bike and vaulted into the air. He descended now from the sky like a shadow. Like a seraph. Like Death's more nimble brother.

His fist landed on Olsen. The biker snapped to the ground like he had never stood in his life.

Tarly's gun rose, but it never got more than an inch. Ghost moved with inhuman speed, and I saw what exactly he must have been recovering from, shaking in my house. Tarly's arm went flying up, his gun slung far into the sky. Ghost glowered at him, glanced at me, and then devastated the man's temple with an open palm strike. Tarly crumpled on top of his partner. Both breathing, but nothing more.

Ghost left and it was Bryan who beamed down on me. His face was at ease, features golden under the sun. A thick and rippling arm found my hand, and he yanked me up. "We need to go."

"Well, hello to you too," I said, heart pounding hard as ever, though for new reasons.

"Geez, thanks," Sandy said, standing up on her own.

"Sorry." Bryan said to her, then looked back. "But we have to go. Now."

"Go where?" Sandy asked for me.

"Somewhere to hide. They're after her."

Sandy looked at me wide eyed.

I started to ask who, but I saw the look in Bryan's eyes. They were narrowed and his forehead looked tense. Not with fear. But worry. His eyes fell past and I heard murmurs over my shoulder. We didn't have security here, but we did have plenty of witnesses.

"1 minute," I said. "Let me get my bag."

His hand gripped tight, but I squeezed it back. "I'll be back, I promise."

I turned and sprinted a few feet, before kicking off my heels into the bushes. Didn't seem like this was the time for those. I sprinted into the hospital. Sandy burst through the doors at my side.

"Good god, girl. What have you gotten yourself into?" She panted.

"Honest
ly, no idea."

"Ok, easier question, then. Has that golden god out there gotten into you?"

"Are you serious?"

I felt her shrug. "It's a fair question."

We ran into changing, and I fumbled my locker code twice before I could get to my bag. As I ran for the door, Sandy tossed her bag at me.

"We're the same size," she said.

I stopped, watched her look petulant by the locker. She looked like a misbehaving kid, worried about what punishment she was going to get. That worry was for me though. I tossed both bags around her in a hug and tried my hardest not to cry into that soft blonde hair.

"Be careful," she whispered.

"I will."

A small crowd had formed around the fallen bikers when I went back out. Sirens sang through the air ever louder. For a second I panicked that Bryan had run, and left me alone, but then I saw him down the curb, standing his bike back up. He waved to me. I slung the bags over my shoulder and ran up to the bike. My hand reached his and he lifted me on behind.

"Hold me," he said. Easily done.

His engine roared to life, but it sounded oddly distant.

"Goddamnit."

I followed his gaze. It wasn't our engine. A black Harley was coming down the lot at us.

Our engine rumbled between my legs.

"Hold on," he said again, and we tore out of the lot.

A howl rose behind us, and I thought it said 'Ghost." We went even faster, and outran it.

The lights ahead
of us were red, but Ghost sped as we approached. I saw a car coming at our sides and started to scream, but we zipped out of its path by an inch. After that, I kept my eyes shut and just sank into Ghost.

I listened to that heartbeat I'd dreamed of hearing again, pounding as hard as the engine we rode. Impossibly fast. Biosynthetic adrenaline. He must be on it right now. How would the world look to him,
with his senses sped up twice as fast? I worried about that heart, but right now we needed it. We burst out of the row of honking horns and onto a highway. This one ran west. It would loop up slowly towards California, towards LA.

I looked back as the traffic thinned and we weaved through its spaces. Everything looked clear behind. I didn't see why we were going fast. I tried to tell Ghost we could slow, but he just went faster. I turned around and like a
specter, the other cycle had appeared behind us. A dark steed, slowly gaining.

Why was it gaining? I had no doubt Ghost could push his ride harder than any normal human.

Which meant he wasn't looking to run. My heart nearly pounded in sync with Ghost's augmented one.

We beat the wave of cars and hit an unoccupied stretch of road. Ghost zoomed out even faster. The world around us was just a whirling blur. It was all I could do to keep my grip. When we had a good stretch of open road behind us, Ghost slowed. Through his side mirror, I saw our pursuer break out of the block of cars and loom in on us. He looked smaller on his Harley, wearing reflective red shades and a grim expression. In his hand, he leveled a gun.

Ghost turned his head. "Hold tight, baby," he said.

Even with death rolling towards us, the sound of that word passing from his body to mine rang a thrill up me. I didn't need any other encouragement to pour myself deeper into his body.

We started to swerve across the road, rolling side to side, like a snake through sand. I watched as the biker pulled closer in the mirror, his pistol held out. But he couldn't make the shot. Did he have just one bullet? Why wasn't he shooting?

He was just behind us now, almost level. I turned and saw his determined face pull into my view between wobbles. His jacket had the same markings as Ghost. The same club.