Page 4 of Haze's Jewel
Just then Siege storms out of the clubhouse with a multitude of club brothers at his back and Tracker in tow. Even though he’s just a prospect, he’s useful because he knows more about the Grave Diggers MC than the rest of us. Growing up in an allied club to the Diggers garnered him a wealth of knowledge.
Brittany was right about him and his sister growing up in the Hellfire Hounds MC. How could they not, considering their grandfather was the club president and their father fell protecting their club? Still, Tracker was looking for a way out long before all their family secrets came spilling out of the proverbial closet.
Siege glances at me and says, “Load up. We’ve got a lead on a gun shipment the Diggers are picking up down in San Loredo. If we get there first, we can keep them from getting their hands on more guns to fucking shoot us with.”
My brother and I give each other a nervous glance and follow our club brothers out to the parking lot. All our motorcycles are lined up in long rows. As I approach my bike, what do I see but Brittany trying to force the lock on my storage compartment. I take off running, hoping to get to her before she can damage my paint job. Grabbing her by one arm, I spin her around.
“What in the ever-loving fuck do you think you’re doing?” My gruff tone causes her to freeze in place.
Siege stalks past us and gives her an aggravated look. “It doesn’t matter what in the hell she’s doing. All the club girls know better than to mess with our bikes.” Shoving her away from my motorcycle, he tells her, “Consider yourself permanently banned from the club.”
“That’s not fair. I’m one of the few women truly loyal to this club.”
I’m taken aback by the sheer unmitigated gall this woman has, to be arguing with our club president. Siege just keeps walking, saying only one word, “Rider.”
Our sergeant-at-arms pulls her aside and I don’t hear what they’re saying because two dozen motorcycles start up at the same time. While I’m strapping on my helmet, I can see the color drain from her face. She begins nodding her head like a bobble head doll as I pull out. I quickly put her out of my mind because I have more important things to worry about than a stubborn club girl.
***
I turn the situation with the Grave Diggers over in my mind as we head to the rendezvous site. The Grave Diggers MC patched over our long running rivals, the Hellfire Hounds around nine months ago. It was a shitshow that led to their club president’s arrest and eventual death in jail. King was a nasty piece of work. The world is only better for not having him in it.
My brother ended up taking the old president’s family under his wing. His granddaughter, Trix, became Vapor’s wife. Though it turned out she wasn’t actually King’s granddaughter—her real father was Jamus, one of King’s old friends. King’s oldest grandson became one of our best friends and a prospect for our club. Tracker fell hard for Mel and she for him. If prospects could put their old ladies in property cuts, Mel would we wearing his. As it stands, that will have to wait until He’s a fully patched brother.
Trix and Tracker’s younger brother, Hark, was living with Jamus, he might not be a blood relation, but over the years Jamus had looked out for Trix’s siblings, and now he didn’t have to keep his secrets he’d stepped up after King’s death. All in all, it has been a real mess but it’s nice having more people around the table, and since my brother married Trix, I view her and her brothers—and even Jamus—as my extended family. Being raised in the brutal one percent club their grandfather founded was a good lesson in how they didn’t want to live their lives, moving forward.
I’m deep in my own thoughts, so it takes me a minute to realize the person driving the jeep I just passed is none other than the gorgeous redhead who ran out on her interview at the clubhouse a couple of weeks ago. I’m fairly certain she wouldn’t be able to recognize me amongst all my club brothers on the road today because we’re all wearing helmets that obscure our faces.
I’ve thought of her more than once since our chance encounter and wondered if she’d managed to find a job yet. An image flashes through my mind of walking into one of the local coffee shops to find her mixing fantastic brews. I’d be frequenting the place on the regular, just to get a chance to chat her up. Such were my thoughts as I rode to one of the biggest battles our club had ever known.
Chapter 2
Annalese
Today was another day of disappointments. My asshole stepbrother sent me a message that our father’s will is still tied up in probate. My ex, who is also his best friend, sent a message saying that I took his laptop, and if he finds out where I am, he’s going to retrieve it with extreme prejudice. He’s obviously lying, and of course spoiling for a fight. Much like my stepbrother, he’s a spoiled little prick who is all too used to getting his own way. Both of them grew up rich, while my mom and I had to work for everything we got. Every time I sign into my old social media account, I pick up shitty messages from the two of them. I hate them both. If I didn’t need whatever pittance of an inheritance my father might have seen fit to leave me, I wouldn’t bother to pick up their messages at all.
Once my father remarried, his new wife made sure we didn’t get one cent more than the court forced him to pay. Truth be told, even though my stepmother died in the car crash that took my father’s life, I don’t expect to get much of an inheritance. Why would he be generous now, when he spent his life being miserly towards us? All I hoped was he’d leave enough to ensure my mom could still get the care that she needed.
I’m so deep in my own thoughts that I don’t notice the multitude of bikers swarming around my jeep, at first. There are two or three dozen at least, just cruising along like they don’t have a care in the world. They’re probably going to a biker rally or some other fun event. I envy them for their freewheeling lifestyle.
***
I go from a bright sunny day to a nightmare in the space of a few moments. I catch sight of some kind of roadblock about a hundred yards in front of me. Only then do I realize that I’m on a lonely stretch of highway that only seems busy because of the large number of bikers weaving in and out amongst several vehicles.
When the sound of gunshots ring out, it slams home that those aren’t cops at the roadblock but other bikers. I’m guessing those of us in cars understand the danger all at once, because I can hear tires screeching as the other cars try to veer off the road and turn around.
In their haste to escape, one vehicle with a panicking middle-aged man behind the wheel careens into me, spinning me towards the guardrail. It feels like time momentarily slows down. It’s unfortunate that I’m driving a jeep because their higher center of gravity and shorter wheelbase make them prone to rolling in a collision. I wonder why, when I should be thinking of survival, I remember a stupid fact about a jeep’s center of gravity. Before I get a chance to brace myself for impact, I hit the guardrail with such force that it sends my jeep tipping over the top and down an embankment.
Even though I’m wearing my safety belt, I feel every single roll and bump along the way. There are trees on the embankment that slow down the jeep’s fall, but a branch spikes through the open passenger side window on the way down, jabbing into my arm and wrenching it awkwardly. I hear a horrible sound that makes me think it broke my bone. Up until this point, I had been gripping the steering wheel for all I’m worth, praying to come out of this alive.
I get slammed hard into the ground several times, there’s a cracking noise as the branch breaks off and a shooting pain as something jabs into my side, then nothing but overwhelming pain and a sensation that my world was splintering as I gasped for breath. This is the final blow. As everything fades to black, I remember one clear thought. I’m going to die when I hit the bottom and it’s all because of those idiot bikers.
***
I don’t know how long I’m out but when I wake up, my jeep is upside down and I’m hanging from my safety belt in an awkward position. Surprisingly, I’m not in a lot of pain. It must be the endorphins my body released due to the physical trauma. Said idiot bikers have surrounded my jeep and are literally lifting it up so one of them can get to me. They have removed the branch and for some reason dust is flying everywhere. I can smell the strong odor of gasoline and it’s making me lightheaded.
A strong arm reaches through the passenger window, and a warm hand cups my face. “Stay calm Anna. We’re going to get you out of here.” It’s the hot biker from the Savage Legion clubhouse. I don’t recall his name, but I remember his handsome face.
I try to answer, but no words will come out. Instead, I can hardly catch my breath. It feels like all the oxygen has been sucked from the air. It doesn’t take me long to figure out there is something wrong with my breathing. It feels like every time I try to take a breath, I run into a tightness that stops me. I’m panicking on the inside, thinking I’m gonna die from lack of oxygen before these men can get me out of my jeep.