The Sins of Lincoln (6 page)

“Be right out for you, hun.”

Once the waitress disappeared, Mav looked back at the envelope, took a deep breath, and tore into it.

Inside was a note on plain white paper, and a single, silver key with the numbers ‘2289’ etched onto it. The handwriting on the letter matched the outside of the envelope. It was a written in a man’s hand, but was strangely neat and orderly.

To Mavery Healy

Mavery,

My name is not important right now, but you must trust me. I am the one the news media calls The Terminator. I was there that night, that awful night at Chopper Town. You have to believe me when I tell you that I had just arrived at the bar, and from the first moment I heard screams, I went to help you. I am sorry I was not there sooner. I lay awake at night wondering why I couldn’t have gotten there earlier. If I had, I could have spared you a terrible ordeal.

At any rate, your life is again in danger. The same biker gang, The Lincoln Killers, have been watching you. Please, I know you have no reason to trust me, but you are in danger. Do not return to your office. Do not return to your apartment. Turn off your cellphone. Go to the Greyhound Bus station that’s two blocks south from the bank. Make sure no one is following you. Use the key to unlock locker number 2289. Inside you’ll find proof of who I say I am, along with further instructions.

The note was not signed. Mav sat in stunned silence. She looked around at each person in the deli with a profound sense of paranoia, stood, then walked out the door.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The Locker

Mav went down a few blocks, then crossed the street of the tiny downtown area and stood on the sidewalk, staring at her own reflection in the glass of the bus station’s entrance. She reached forward to grab the handle but pulled her hand back as though afraid it might be hot to the touch. The door burst open and a man popped out, nearly knocking into her.

“Oh, excuse me,” said the man, shuffling past.

Mav gripped her purse and pulled it against her chest. Her breathing was erratic.
Calm down. My God, calm down
, she thought. Mav paused a moment, then went inside and scanned the wide-open area looking for any signs of irregularity. She’d never been inside, and the terminal was larger than she thought. The floor was a gray-colored tile, polished to a fine shine. Brilliant light shone off it from the long glass wall on the opposite side. She spotted the rows of rental lockers and walked in hesitation towards them. When she saw the metal nameplate that said 2289, she froze in her tracks. It was as if she was afraid a rattlesnake might be inside. She checked and rechecked the number on her key. It was correct, and after a few final glances over her shoulder, she unlocked the locker.

Inside was a long, white paperboard box, the kind she’d seen a hundred times before at the department store. Mav pried open the front, and peered inside. When she fully removed the top, laying there was a set of blue-green surgical scrubs, a surgical cap, booties for shoes, a stethoscope, and one hospital identification card. Each garment was pressed into fine creases, and placed inside the box with the precision of a military footlocker about to undergo inspection.

“Holy shit, it’s him. It’s really him. He did visit me in the hospital.” Mav’s heart fluttered. “Now what?” A cellphone rang and Mav reached into her purse to pull hers out. But once she looked at the screen, she realized she’d turned it off as instructed. The sound was coming from inside the locker—a phone was buried underneath the surgical scrubs.

“Hello?” she said in a timid voice.

“In the box you’ll find a bus ticket.” The husky voice was familiar, like something out of a dream. “Board the bus and sit in the second to last back row. Do it now.”

The call ended.

Mav was frightened but the more she thought about it, the more she determined herself she was doing the right thing. The voice; the voice was so calming and familiar. It was him, and Mav knew it. She made for the other side of the terminal and went out the glass doors. She was sure of two things; this person meant her no harm, and she was headed into utter uncertainty.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Stitching the Soul

The bus was at least three quarters full as she stepped aboard. The driver held out his hand. “This is bus number 277 to Galveston.”

“Yes, thank you.”

Mav studied each face as she shuffled down the thin aisle, looking for anything familiar. The smell was a cross between a high school locker room and stale beer. As she took her seat the bus driver called out onto the platform. “Number 277, Galveston. Departs in one minute.” Mav began to worry. Perhaps he wasn’t coming. As the bus engine started and began to pull out, her heart sank. But ten minutes later, a husky voice from behind whispered to her. It came from in between her seat and the empty one next to her.

“Don’t turn around. Just keep looking forward. You’re safe. No one followed you aboard, but we can’t be sure no one is following the bus. In about an hour, the bus will make a scheduled stop at Damon, Texas. There’s a Waffle House diner right near the station. Get off and walk towards the diner. Bring your things. You won’t be getting back on the bus.”

Mav’s heart raced. It was him. It was him, without a doubt. She so badly wanted to turn around and stare into those cobalt-blue eyes. It was all so exciting, terrifying, exhilarating,  and frightening all at the same time. The minutes ticked by, and all she could think about was what it would be like to stare at him. The visions of what he looked like flickered in her mind’s eye. The hair, so dark, wavy, and thick. And his arms. When he would visit late at night, the only thing exposed under his hospital scrubs were his forearms. Yet they were so muscular, she just knew underneath the blue-green cloth was a chiseled set of pecks and abs that she so badly wanted to run her hands across.

Mav hadn’t been with a man since, well since
all the awful
happened. For the most part she didn’t think about her old life much. But from time to time, she’d see a good looking guy and wonder. For whatever reason, Mav wasn’t turned on by good looking guys anymore. What did turn her on were tough looking bad boys. It’s what brought her into Chopper Town in the first place. It had all started as a way to go deeper into the danger. For Mav, where sex was concerned, with greater danger came greater reward. She had no idea it would all go so wrong so quickly. If it hadn’t been for the man now seated behind her, she’d certainly be dead.

Her mind raced in fits and starts. It surprised her that after such a horrifying experience that she would still be attracted to such types. Yet here she sat, on a bus headed into uncertainty with a man that she didn’t even know. He was almost too good to be true. There was something about him; the way he carried himself, the way he spoke. Mav knew this was more than a tough guy. He’d walked into Chopper Town alone that night and had taken on seven of the roughest bikers around, and won. There was something more than tough about him. It was like he was made of steel.

As the bus rocked gently back and forth down a rural highway road, Mav tried to not let her mind wander too far. But that old tingle between her legs was something not to be controlled. She thought about what it would be like to stand with him, then slowly remove one piece of his clothing after the next. First, she’d start with the shirt. With him standing still, she’d run her hands slowly across his thick, v-shaped torso, drinking it all in. Then she’d drift around behind him and tug his shirt free from the thin waistline. He’d raise his arms and she’d slowly lift the shirt clear of his head, revealing striated muscles across his v-shaped back and lats. The shirt would drop to the floor; that sight alone was enough to make Mav squeeze her thighs together. She’d walk her hands around his torso and smooth, rippling chest. When she was again face to face, she’d lean in and kiss his neck, working her way down across his chest. His skin was delicious and Mav felt her own desire increase. He would look down at his own pelvis, still covered in tight jeans, signaling Mav to move down his torso. Mav wanted what was in those jeans and put her hands upon the hardening shape forming there. She unbuckled the thick leather belt, undid the metal button, and unzipped the fly...

“Damon, Texas,” came the driver’s voice over the speaker system. It startled Mav out of her fog. “Damon, Texas. Twenty minute stop. You are free to disembark.”

Mav recovered from the delectable daydream and realized that her face was flushed and heat was wafting out of her blouse. As the bus stopped, she rose and headed toward the Waffle House, but just before she got there, a man on a motorcycle pulled into her path. He was wearing a full helmet with a dark black cover over it, completely obscuring his face, a white sleeveless undershirt, and oh so many muscles. His bare arms were beautifully shaped; cut and lean. Several tattoos wove the wide spans of his lean, upper arms on either side, and long, wavy black hair jutted out from underneath his helmet. Mav knew it was him.

She boarded without hesitation, slipped her petite arms around his trim waist, and held on as the acceleration of the bike intensified. She pulled in tight against his v-shaped form and closed her eyes, allowing the daydream to continue. The vibration of the bike crept in between her legs and she drank in the smell of his hair.

A few minutes out of town and the bike pulled off onto a dirt path and accelerated about half a mile down the road and stopped at a small house where an RV was parked around back. The bike pulled behind the RV and the driver expertly parked the bike on the trailer mounted to the back of the RV. When the engine stopped, Mav wasn’t sure if she should be scared or excited.

“You’re safe,” he said through the face mask. “I’m so glad you came along.” They both disembarked from the bike and he pulled off his helmet. There Mav stood, face to face with the one man that was responsible for saving her life. He was even better looking than she had envisioned. The eyes were such a deep cobalt blue that she became lost in them. The jawline, strong and sharp, and the hair was dark and thick. She wanted to run her fingers through it but was not about to.

“Tell me your name,” Mav said in a meek voice as she let her eyes wander down his chest.

“Brock. Brock Paladin.”

“I don’t know how to thank you for saving my life that night. It was so horrible. I knew I was dead for sure. But then it all stopped, and when I looked back, you were stopping them, stopping them from hurting me any more.”

“I can’t abide by men like that, harming women. Come on, let’s get inside the RV, we don’t want to stay out in the open too long.”

As they hustled inside, Mav questioned, “Why do you think I’m in danger again?” She couldn’t help but watch his back side as he boarded the RV.

“This is my partner,” said Brock.

“I’m Will.”

Mav was a bit startled to see another man in the RV, but immediately recognized him from his visit to her desk at the bank. She decided that if Brock trusted him, she should too. And even if she didn’t, it was too late now. She was committed.

To her, Will looked like a much older version of Brock. The hair was long and gray. He too could easily fit in at a biker bar. His skin looked like toughened leather that had been drug over concrete, but even so, he was not a bad looking man.

As Will started the engine, Mav sat on a bench seat with cracks in the upholstery. “Where are we going?”

Will replied, “Headed up into the foothills, up the way a bit.”

“But why? What are we going to do there?”

“Like my compadre said, little lady. You are in danger. So, first thing’s first. We’re getting you the hell out of town, and when we get where we’re going, we’re going to teach you how to defend yourself.”

“Really?” Mav looked at the two but had a hard time peeling her eyes away from staring at Brock. “Do you really think I’m in danger? Lets start at the beginning. Why is it you think I’m in danger?”

“Not me, little lady,” said Will. “Him. He’s the one that’s dragged me into this little escapade.”

Will spoke again, this time with a certain resignation in his tone. “I’ve been following some of the Lincoln Killers gang, tailing them. On several occasions in the last week, they’ve been following you.”

“Following me?” Mav’s voice decried fear. “My God, after they raped and nearly killed me? What the hell else do they want? To finish the job? What did I ever do to them?”

“Nothing. You did nothing to them. You did nothing to deserve what happened to you. But now, with four of their members dead and three more that will have permanent limps, they are probably after two things.”

Mav clutched her purse, it was like a security blanket.

Brock continued, “They are likely seeking revenge for the deaths of their brothers. In some pathetically sick way, they are of the mindset that they should be able to rape and murder a woman, and if anything happens to them in the process, they consider it an offense.”

Mav’s jaw dropped.

“I know, I know. Will and I have been in a lot of real shitholes in the world. We’ve been in bad places with bad people. And, we’ve seen this mentality before. Pure barbarians.”

The hatred Mav felt soaked into her skin. “Those bastards.” She began to cry, but quickly choked back the sadness.