Sinful Duo: Lost Angels MC, page 2
“Do you know the mission?”
“Yes, sir,” I say to my commanding officer. We were being transported to a lookout forty-eight hours before the designated hit comes across our path. Anis Xinhai, a known enemy of the states and a terrorist. Our mission...to take his life using my assault rifle.
“Good… is Bell up to speed or do we need to get him on the radio?”
“I briefed him before the cavalry came to pick us up.”
“Very good,” he nods, tapping his fingers on the armrest seemingly absent-mindedly. “Does he know the location change?”
“The location’s changed?”
“Yes, we're going to station you on top of a building on the outskirts of town instead. So in case of retaliation you've got a better chance of finding cover until we can send air support. Either the Iraqis are getting clever, or we have a mole within our ranks. Several attempts have been made.”
What the hell…
Reaching for the radio I call to the other armed vehicle, “Tank, change of plans…”
The line cracks, “Go.o...h.ead.”
“Location’s changed to 33.3444° N, 43.7813° E.”
Again, with the bad connection, but I think he said he got it. He must have looked on the map because he's back over the radio within a few minutes, “Th..t's n the c..ty.”
“I know,” we speak our concerns over the connection with only our tone, though I'm sure our commander realizes all we aren't saying, but we have to trust they know what's best.
You lose more while fighting within the ranks.
I can hear his acceptance in his simple acknowledgment when he cracks over the line again, but as I'm about to put the radio back into its sling, the car in front of us lifts into the air from the explosion it detonated by rolling across it. The bottom of the jeep is in flames as it smashes back to the ground and flips twice before settling on its top.
“Tank!” I can hardly hear my voice through the pounding in my own ears as I wait for a response. The commander stomped on the brakes as soon as we saw the truck light up, but as I started to unbuckle my belt, I heard the click before we took to the air.
“Wake up!” It's through a haze that I suddenly become aware.
Tank is grappling with my limbs that are grasping for a dash that's not there to help me with impact. My ears are ringing from the explosion, though I hear perfectly as Tank says that we are home, and safe. My cuts feeling like they've been reopened from the shrapnel, sharp and exacting, but scars are all that remain.
I force myself to look at my arms that are now tangled with Tank’s, and notice all that has been healed from that night. The burnt skin by my elbow, the lacerations that had needed stitches on my forearms, and the lesser injuries that barely left there mark. My breathing starts to slow, my heart receding back into its cage. I'm back in Ohio with Tank. I let go of his arms, but he doesn't let go of me for another two beats of my heart.
“You okay now, man?”
I nod as I run my fingers through my sweat-soaked hair, “Yeah. Thanks.”
“Night, Echo, try to get more sleep.” Since this happens at least once a month I'm not sure why he bothers. He's aware of the routine, and it doesn't include more sleep, at least not for me.
Chapter 3
Like a caged animal I pace from one end of my prison to the other. It may be decorated as a bedroom, but there is no mistake to what it really is. I'm not sure how we got to this point, but I know I can no longer stay to watch what will unfold next. I didn't sign up for this, and for Axel to think I'd stick around despite knowing makes it clear he has a screw loose. I should have left when I found out about the guns, but no, I’m ignorant and believed it couldn't get any worse. How wrong I was. I wasn't meant to find out, but I couldn’t help that I overheard. When he walked out to find me standing there with my mouth hanging open in shock, he grabbed my arm before my brain even caught up to what I had heard. His grip iron-like on my arm, and I’m sure bruises would appear later. When we finally got to our car, I found my voice again. The biggest fight we’ve ever had unfolded. As soon as we arrived at our apartment, I jumped out of the passenger side like I would catch fire the longer I stayed in his presence.
I had been stupid to think I could get to our room and pack my things; he was right behind me asking what I thought I was doing. I told him I had to leave. I couldn’t possibly be with him anymore knowing what he’s involving himself in. I balked when he told me I needed to cool down and then I’d be reasonable. By all things sane being reasonable is exactly what I was being! Who better to know what I am willing to go along with! When I told him as such, he locked me in our room. Who could have known that Axel would be resourceful enough for that?
Being three stories up I’m seriously contemplating if I could jump without breaking something. Since my experience of throwing myself out of windows from this height is zilch, I wasn't positive I wanted to risk it. People in movies do it all the time. Though it may not be the best idea to compare real life to movies, at this point, I’m running out of options. All I know is that I need to get out of here. Who knows what Axel or the other members of the club were willing to do to keep my mouth shut?
Amidst my pacing, I catch movement out of the corner of my eye from the building next to mine, and a plan formulates. I don’t like the thought of reaching out for help, but I think the situation calls for it. Opening the window, I wave wildly towards old Mrs. Armistead where I could see she’s getting her afternoon tea from the microwave. She walked right by without even noticing. Quickly I look around to toss something against the glass without caring to lose it to the ground. Perfect! I grasp Axel’s lotion bottle and watch as it bangs against her window. I cringe at impact, but I’m relieved when it doesn’t leave a single scratch. I wait a few seconds but when I don’t see her moving towards her window, I look around for something else. How about one of his shoes? I test the weight in my hand and decide it should do. I pose to send the shoe in the same direction before I notice her hunched form moving determinedly towards the window. I toss the shoe behind me just as she pulls the latch and swings it open.
“Lidia! Did you see what just hit my window? It sounded like a bird.”
“Um no, Mrs. Armistead, I sure didn’t.”
“Well let’s hope the thing knows better than to mess with my windows. I’ll call animal control if it does it again,” she looks around and then up into the sky as if said bird would have stuck around to hear her complaint.
“I’m sure it will think twice. Betty, since I have you here can I ask for a favor?”
She finally moves her eyes back to me, “What’s the favor?”
“I need you to make a phone call for me. It seems I’ve lost my phone, and my charger if you can believe it.” Axel thinking to grab it before he left shows some of his faculties were working, but apparently not the right ones.
“I’m not sure I can, but I can’t see why I need to make the call for you. Just come over and make it yourself.” She’s about to close the window when I start to plead.
“You see, Betty, I can’t. I’m stuck, my door won’t open, and I need someone to come that has a key to let me out. I’ve been meaning to replace the lock the last time this happened.” I hope whoever gives the last judgment will forgive me for all these lies!
“This has happened to you before?” she sputters, and it’s like that is the only thing she seems to have heard from my pronouncement. She proceeds to lecture me on how irresponsible I’ve been with my safety. What if there were a fire?! What if there’s a break in?! Though I can’t imagine how being locked away in a room with a gun would be bad if a burglar were to come, I don’t say a word against her. When she’s finally done, I remind her of what I’m really after.
“Oh yes, sure, what’s the number?”
I give her the only number I can think of that belongs to the only man that has the resources to get me out of the situation I’ve found myself in. I bite my lip as I watch her come back and ask me to repeat the number. My eyes go round and I try to protest loudly when she shuts the window as she starts to talk into the receiver. The old wench shut me out of my own phone call. Why did I think it was a good idea to include her in my escape plan? Oh right, she’s my only option. She’s a crotchety old lady. I hope in the end she doesn't forget what I actually need the conversation to result in.
While I wait for her to hopefully return to tell me the outcome, I start to gather my things in a small bag. In hindsight, it’s a good thing that I have so little. I’ve never gotten attached to many things, that includes objects of my many life experiences. It only takes me five minutes to have everything packed away, and I start searching for the things I’ll need until I can find my feet under me again. I rifle through his jeans pocket on the floor and produce a twenty, and then go to his underwear drawer. I don’t know how anyone can think it’s a good hiding place since everyone has used it one time or another...most people grow out of the habit and get smarter about it. I can’t complain when I pull out several hundred dollars and leave a few more so he may overlook it for a while. I’m just about done scouring the room when Betty comes back to her window.
“Ric sounds like a nice man. Is he your father?”
I suppress the urge to scoff, but in truth, he’s the closest I’ve got to a father, so I end up nodding my head. “What did he say?” I ask a little impatiently.
“Well, he agreed with me about you not taking your safety seriously, but said he would be here in about an hour to rescue you,” she rolls her eyes as if rescue isn’t the word that should be used, but that is exactly what it is. I exhale in relief to know that the club leader of the Lost Angels, the father of my used to be best friend, is going to come and rescue me again from my stupidity. I really wish I hadn’t needed to ask, but it’s comforting to know that he still holds enough love for me or respect for his daughter to come get me. Most likely the latter. I don't deserve his love. Not after what I did.
I thank Mrs. Armistead before we both close our windows. She walks away from hers, but I hover around mine waiting. I jump at every noise knowing Axel could come back at any moment, and I would never “live” it down. I don’t want to ponder how close to the truth I am.
My whole body wars with being tense or lax when I see Ric jump out of his red four-door. I open the window and catch his attention. He’s as cute as I remembered. He’s way too old for me, but he’s a good-looking man for someone his age. Martha really is taking good care of him.
His hands go to his hips as he looks up at me. “When we get you out of there you are telling me everything,” his tone brooks no argument, but I am hesitant to tell him what’s going on with the Scavengers.
He breaks through my thoughts, “Toss down your stuff.” When I do, he looks up waiting for more, but he should have known it would only fit into that bag. When I swing my legs out the window, he gets the picture.
My head jerks to where I know the front door is, as it slams closed I presume and fear it to be the only person that has a key, unless someone from the Scavengers got assigned the duty of gathering me.
“Shit,” I whisper as I look down, “Hope you’re ready for me.” He catches me with surprising ease. When he sets me on my feet, I grab his hand and run to the edge of Betty’s building just in time to hear a curse from the room I just vacated. Then a loud crash that has me cringing into the wall. Ric places a comforting hand on my shoulder as we listen.
“Yeah, she’s gone,” I hear another crash, “Shit, I don’t know where she’d go. She must have had help,” then I see his face, twisted so menacingly I can hardly believe it’s Axel making it. His black hair slicked back, tattoos peeking out around his collar, usually a frown twisting his lips, he wasn't exactly the picture of innocence to begin with, but I've never seen him this murderous, “The little cunt jumped out the window.” He hits his fist into the frame as he looks around. Ric grabs me so that our backs are plastered to the brick, “I don’t know of her having any friends around here. Alright, I’ll see you in fifteen. I want to check first what that bitch took.”
The window slams so forcefully I’m surprised there wasn’t glass being rained down onto the grass. Yet even through the glass, I can hear him yell a stream of curses as I imagine him finding the money I’ve taken. If he ever gets ahold of me, I’ll pay for it in a very unpleasant way.
Ric pushes my arm to get my attention, and gestures for me to follow. We stick close to the building until we have a clear shot to the car.
He starts to grill me even before the door on his side closes, “Spill!” the tires squeal in protest against the pavement as we take off from the curb.
I don’t know what to tell him, or even where to start, but he did deserve to know something, “Axel and I got into a really big fight. He locked me in the bedroom to cool me down, but you know how I feel about feeling trapped. I needed an out, so I called you.”
“No, you had Betty call me. She talked my ear off for about twenty minutes! You know I have better things to do. Also, don't take me for a fool. I don't buy your story, you’ve called me three times in your life for help. It’s when things get really bad and you can't find another way out. So spill it all, Lidia.”
I heave out a sigh and look between him and the road. Putting him in the middle of this mess really didn't seem like a grand idea. I'm already putting him in the middle, so digging him in deeper doesn't seem like a good way to say thank you for saving my ass. So what can I tell him without sharing too much? As close to the truth as possible…
“Axel and I really did get into a fight, but it's because I overheard something I shouldn't have.” He opens his mouth, but I put up a hand, “I can't get into specifics, just know that I couldn't be in the middle of the shit they're doing anymore. He threatened me, and I was locked in until the Scavengers decide what to do with me. I can't unhear it,” I shrug, “I couldn't stick around to find out what their verdict would be.”
He runs a hand through his short silver hair, “Well shit. You're going to have to lay low for a while. Do you have a place in mind to stake out until things cool down?” He looks over for a second to catch my head shake side to side, “Alright, I've got a place for you. It's just recently vacated and it's only about a mile from the clubhouse. I'll be able to keep an eye on you. Though when it does, you're telling me,” he looks at me with a stern look.
“You don't need to do that. I have some money…”
“This isn't up for negotiation. At least until it's calmed a bit. They won't look for you somewhere so close.”
He's probably right. Anyone that knew me at all would think I'd jump on the closest bus and ride it until its last stop then go from there. I've done that more times than I dare to count. So I take him up on his generous offer.
“Is Emmy still pissed at me?”
He snorts, “You know she is. You disappeared without any goodbye or a clue to where you went. Best friends don't make a habit of doing that so I've heard.”
“Did you tell her why I left?” At least the version I told him. The truth still shames me.
“Wasn't my place or job to clean up that mess. Though I never thought she wouldn't forgive you if you explained.”
“She still live in town?”
“Hell no. She got out as soon as she could, and I couldn't be prouder,” he sits taller in his seat.
This shocks me enough to look over at him, “Where did she go?”
“Chicago. She works for a fancy schmancy architectural company.”
“No shit?”
“I know, I was surprised, had no idea she loved buildings so much.”
“I did..,” I say.
“Secrets are for best friends after all,” he takes another open jab. I sigh.
“I am sorry. Sorrier than I could ever say.”
“I'm not the one that needs to hear it,” he replies.
“I think you are at least one that should have one. You took me in when I had no one. You took a role that wasn't yours to give me but shared it equally with your blood daughter… and I took it for granted the moment I walked out of your life.”
He's quiet for a long beat, “She's coming home in a few weeks. Maybe you should stick around to explain then.”
I start to nod because what else is there to say? An apology is in order, and since I've reached out to this family once again, I owe them that at the very least.
It takes about forty-five minutes from my old apartment to get to my older slash newest home in Chillowakie, Ohio. Another fifteen to get to the far south of town, past the clubhouse, and to a little house nestled in a cul-de-sac. It’s a simple house, easily overlooked. White, little blue shutters, blue door, and a white wrap around privacy fence. It seems perfect for me.
“Here,” he hands me the keys that I presume will let me into the house.
“You're not going to walk me in?”
“Do I look like a welcome committee to you? Plus, I need to get back to the club. I've got work to do.” My hand goes to the handle and before I step out, he speaks again, “Oh and here,” he hands me one of those prepaid phones. The old school and untraceable kind, “Call if you need anything, the number’s already programmed in.”
“Thanks, Ric,” I give a smile that he returns. Then he drives off leaving me to my new temporary home.
The neighborhood is nice, quiet even though it's three in the afternoon. I should be hesitant about going into a new place all things considered, but I'm not. The gun in my little bag will be as much protection as I need if trouble has followed, and Ric wouldn't put me in danger knowingly.
Walking up the paved drive I take in the cute shrubbery lining the walkway. Coming to the front door I admire the stained-glass window of a rose in the door and the little patio with its single step. Inside opens up to a kitchen, beyond that a living room with a single couch. Another door I presume leads to the back yard. It does, and it’s just as simple as the inside, open, no bushes, a fence around the perimeter but with a gate door on one side. When I go to lock it, I notice it doesn’t work. There are two other doors to the side off the living room, one a bedroom, the other the bathroom. Thankfully there's another door to the bathroom through the bedroom. It’s not as if it really matters, but I’d find it annoying to have to walk out of the bedroom too far to use the bathroom. When I take another look around the little house, I notice another door that looks like it may be a pantry but turns out to be a pair of stairs down to the basement where the washing machine and dryer are.
