Evil’s Pact by Raven Dark

9

Broken Down Again

The next two days pass by in a blur.

I should have expected the two things that occurred over the time we remained at White Springs.

The first thing concerns the way I felt about Spider after his injury. When he’d gotten hurt, the emotions I’d felt for him had caused a numbing dread to settle in my gut. In the two days that followed, that dread hadn’t abated. If anything, it grew worse. And second, for the entire time we stayed at Pops Place, he remained as remote and as solitary as a mountain. He was untouchable, as aloof and distant as the moon.

From everything I’ve read about love, it’s supposed to leave you feeling an indescribable joy. The kind that makes the sun just a little bit brighter, every sound you hear just a little more beautiful. This is the thing that poets write about, the thing that changes so many lives. But for me? For me, it leaves me feeling hollow and, if I’m honest with myself, a little frightened, wondering exactly what I’ve fallen for, and what price I’ll have to pay for having done so.

If anything, in the mornings when I wake, the sunlight streaming through the bedroom window feels too bright, the growl of motorcycle engines revving outside too harsh, like the rumblings of caged animals eager to be let loose.

Of course, the upsurge of dread is probably in large part due to my having awakened in the mornings to find myself alone.

Without fail, each time, my thoughts immediately race, wondering where Spider is, what he’s doing. I can’t help wondering what crime he’s off committing in the name of the club.

And even though I know he bought all those clothes he makes me wear, there’s still nothing to tell me he doesn’t spend his nights in another woman’s bed.

The evening of his injury, he’d taken me to bed. He’d been wild, driving himself into me so deep that it seemed as if he was trying to make himself a part of me. Yet he’d also been silent, keeping me at a distance, never letting me get truly close to him.

The following morning, he has me change his dressing while he sits on the couch in the barroom, in front of the TV.

“Will you be going out again today?” I ask awkwardly. After last night, you’d think it would be easier to talk to him, but it’s not.

Spider takes a bite of sausage. “Don’t know.” He won’t look at me.

“Will I see you tonight?”

He shrugs. “Maybe.”

I shut out the image of some other woman in his arms, a tattooed woman with wild hair like Ruby. I look away, hating the way my gut churns. “I’m not asking about your business. I was just…making conversation.”

He shakes his head as I tie off the wrapping on his arm. “Last night’s conversation didn’t mean nothing, Wildcat. It doesn’t change anything between us.”

The words are like a slap in the face. Just like that, I’m bumped back down to Earth, reduced to his property. The thief who stole from the club.

“Got it.” I tie a second knot on his arm, jerking it tight. ‘I’m still just a prisoner.” I shove to my feet.

Spider’s gaze flicks around the packed room, filled with the guys taking their morning meal. He growls under his breath as he stands up. His fingers trap my jaw. “As a matter of fact, you are.”

I clench my jaw, trying to jerk my head away. His fingers tighten.

“Look at me.”

My eyes refuse to meet his, adrenaline pulsing through me until my breath catches.

“Look. At. Me.”

The dominance in his voice pulls my gaze to his.

“You don’t shoot your mouth off. I still own you. I tell you to do something, you do it. Understand?”

A woman’s obedience is the path to righteousness. Seth’s voice reverberates in my head.

All the strength goes out of my body. My arms go limp at my sides, and the ability to resist leaks away. It’s happening again. The Colony robot is back.

“Yes, sir.”

Spider’s brow raises and irritation flashes in his eyes.

“Spider,” Dragon calls from the door to the clubhouse. “Let’s go. Put your toy away and move your fucking ass.”

Dragon’s voice snaps me out of my stupor.

“Spidy, come on. Time to go.” Cap claps him on the shoulder. I notice that Cap’s eye is focused intently on me, his brows furrowed.

Spider looks as if he wants to say something, but instead, he throws a glance back at the president. “On my way.” He puts his face close to mine. “You’ll never get inside me, Wildcat. Stop trying.”

He turns on his heel and walks out with Cap, his arm around Striker and laughing at something Dragon says. Leaving me standing there, feeling as if he’s shut me out of his life in a blizzard.

The rest of the time we’re at White Springs, he isn’t even at the clubhouse, or I assume he isn’t, and I don’t see him at all over the two days we’re there.

However briefly he seemed connected to me while we were out on the patio, that connection seems to be gone now. Monster or man, he’s severed it completely. I have to wonder if he’s regretted opening up to me, telling me so much about his past, if his lashing out has something to do with that.

He’ll never let me in, not the way he’s gotten inside me. Not judging by the cutting way he’d behaved before he’d left the morning after he was injured. It’s frightening, knowing that the darkness in him doesn’t stop me from loving him. Awareness of my own weakness crushes me. My love for him is a painful thing, sharp and hollowing.

When Spider is gone, which is most of the time, Striker, Reaper, Rat and Pip are usually with him, sometimes along with Dragon. No one seems to know where they’re going at all hours, or at least no one will tell me, so I’m left to my own summations. I assume he’s spending some of the time looking for Gary. He’s promised Ben he’d catch him, after all. But there’s also the Satan’s Bastards who presumably still have a beef with the Outlaws.

Worry for him becomes a constant companion. No matter how I try to shut it out, all I have to do is think about that gash on his arm and my mind spins with worst care scenarios. I picture him lying in a ditch somewhere, riddled with bullets and bleeding out. How do the girls deal with that kind of anxiety day in and day out? I long for the apathy I once knew, long for the days when I hated him, but the time for that is long past. My heart is cracked open to him and it can’t be closed.

Was that what he was doing when he was hurt, getting into some kind of confrontation with the Bastards? I try not to think of this too much, otherwise the worry becomes overwhelming.

And then there’s this Adamson, whoever he is. Or, Abel Adamson, as I heard Rat call him once. Spider hasn’t asked me any more about him, but he did have me kidnapped, so I can only assume the club is still hunting him, but without information from me. I wish Spider’s lack of questions mean he’s realized I’m not in some kind of cahoots with Adamson. Considering how cold Spider was the day after his injury, I doubt it.

Considering how little I see him and how distant he was that day, I’m forced to conclude Monica and the others at Casper’s were wrong. Spider didn’t bring me along to White Springs because he feels anything for me. He brought me along as a—what did Pinky call it?—a booty call. And probably to keep me out of trouble, as I thought.

While Spider is gone, when I’m not working the tables, I spend all the time I have with the ladies and Ben. There’s no doubt in my mind that Spider also took me here for Ben. It’s the one freedom he gives me without reservation—spending time doing anything Ben wants, as long as it’s within the clubhouse walls.

The two remaining days we spend at Pops’ is not without joy. Sitting with Ben eating ice cream or coloring, watching movies and chatting with the girls on their time off, or talking with Cap is wonderful. The downside is that it makes it harder to do what I know I have to when we return to Casper’s—leave Spider and the club behind.

There’s always someone around me here, so there’s no way of getting away now. And then there are the cameras. There are more of them now than there were when we got here. Hadn’t Rat said something about installing more of them?

There’s no escaping from here, but I have to assume there will be eventually. When we return to Casper’s, someone will forget, slip up, leave me unwatched for a few minutes, and when they do, I’ll have to run.

Yes, I love Spider. No matter how much I tell myself not to, I can’t shut the feeling down. Longing for him hammers itself home whenever he’s gone, and my heart aches for him. But he’ll hurt me the moment he has a mind to, and just because he said he wouldn’t kill me doesn’t mean he won’t change his mind. Each time new information about Adamson came up and he thought it pointed to a connection to me, he became the monster, tortured me, tore me apart a piece at a time.

Spider may love Ben, he may be close to Penny and Jules, and he may see the club as family he protects with his life, but I can’t forget what he is. That he’s dangerous, and he’ll turn on me if he feels he has to. Loving him doesn’t change that. And that means, as much as I hate leaving my friends or him, I have to. I’d have to even if Sarah wasn’t out there and I didn’t have this gnawing sense that she’s in trouble.

On the fourth day at Pop’s, we’re finally getting ready to return to Diamondback. It shocks me how sad I am to leave. Spider puts his saddlebag over his bike and does it up while the other Casper’s members do the same. Everyone is gathered at the rows of bikes, packing up to leave.

“Cap’s going with us this time?” I ask him, watching Cap climb into a large van like the one we used to bring the guns down the first time.

Spider says nothing, focusing on tightening the flaps on his bags as if I’m not there.

I sigh. “Really? Nothing? Now who’s giving who the cold shoulder?”

He still doesn’t speak, but I notice the way his lips twitch.

Pip snorts. “Salty. I like her so much.”

My eyes widen. I want to hate him for betraying me, for his doing Spider’s bidding, but I just can’t, in part because I think I get why he did it. This club is his life, it’s his family, and he needs more than just being a prospect. Spider put him in a terrible position.

For his comment, Spider cuffs him on the back of the head. Pip rubs his head but smiles at me.

Not willing to beg for attention, I go over to the van. Diesel gives me a nod from his bike, which is sitting beside the van. He’s talking to Cap.

“I’m meeting the rest of you there, Angel,” Cap supplies from the driver’s seat. “There’s a dealer out here who has some nice bikes, so I’m going to look at picking up a new ride first.”

“It’s good that you can ride again,” I tell him.

Since Diesel’s bike isn’t sitting in formation like the others, I assume he’s going with Cap.

“Yeah. Thank fuck. I’m getting tired of this cage.” Cap thumps the doorframe of the van with his palm.

“Rat, Reaper, hurry the fuck up,” Spider calls toward the clubhouse doors as the two of them come down the steps. “You’re worse than women, holding everyone up.”

“We’re not going with you,” Rat says.

“Why?”

“Because. Reaper wants to look into a new bike, and I want some detailing done on mine. The guy says he can do a gorgeous Wonder Woman design on my tank.”

Spider makes a face that looks something between irritated and amused. “Why are you such a geek?”

Striker laughs as he mounts his bike beside Spider’s.

“You should go with them,” Spider tells his friend, nodding to his bike. “The last thing we need is for that hunk of junk to break down at the wrong time.”

“She can make point five past light speed,” both Rat and Striker reply at once. “She may not look like much, but she’s got it where it counts, kid.”

Several of the guys laugh.

“Hey, I know where that’s from,” I tell Rat with an absurd pride. “Han Solo with Millennium Falcon, right?”

“You’re learning,” Rat says with a grin. “Better watch out, Spidy, she’s beginning to assimilate Earth culture.”

Spider just shakes his head.

“Yeah, I guess I am. Except…who’s Wonder Woman?”

Several of the guys snicker.

“I guess you got a ways to go,” Rat says. “But we’ll get you there.”

Before I can ask for a better explanation, Ben comes running down the stairs with Jules, Gin, and his mother in tow. I say my goodbyes while Spider gives dozens of the White Springs men brotherly hugs and claps on the back.

“Promise me you’ll come visit,” Ben says as I hug him. He clings tight to me.

I squeeze him and stroke his soft hair. He smells so good, like Play-Doh and crayons and peanut butter and little boy. “Oh, tough guy. I promise.”

“Do you? To the moon and back?”

For some reason, this makes my eyes water. “To the moon and back,” I say, kissing his cheek.

The girls look on, grinning. It’s strange to see Penny up and around and looking healthier. Her cheeks have more color in them, and she’s dressed in tight jeans and a halter, looking much more like one of the biker girls, even without tats.

“I better give you back to your mother before she thinks I’m gonna run off with you.” I smile and let Penny take Ben in her arms.

“Oh, feel free to take him anytime you like,” she says. “He can terrorize you and Spider for days on end.”

I laugh, and she puts him down and he runs and hugs Spider’s legs, allowing her to grab me in a hug. Spider picks Ben up and sets him on his hip.

“Thanks for spending time with him when I couldn’t,” Penny says.

“Always.” I squeeze her hand.

“Come back soon,” Jules says, hugging me and then brushing lint off the denim jacket she gave me.

I nod mutely and accept a hug from Gin last.

“All right, let’s get a move on, Wildcat,” Spider calls, setting Ben down and mounting his ride. “We need to be on the road.”

I give the girls a shrug and swing on behind him.

“Stand back, little man.” Spider nods toward Penny, and Ben joins her, apparently not willing to leave without watching us depart.

Dragon says a last few goodbyes by the clubhouse door, finishing with a long kiss and a swat on the backside for Ruby that makes me think painfully of Tequila. When he passes Spider on the way to his bike, Dragon claps him on the shoulder and nods to me. “Nice tat you put on her,” he says. “I guess she really is yours now.”

Spider watches him mount up with his brows knitted together, in confusion, I think, as if the words mean something other than the obvious—that I’m the pet Dragon’s always thought I was.

“Ready?” Spider asks as I put my arms begrudgingly around his waist. His voice has no emotion for me; it’s almost cool.

“Yes,” I mumble into his shoulder.

Spider jumps on the throttle and his bike’s engine roars to life with the others. He guns the engine, and so do the others. The noise is deafening, and yet the rumble feels right somehow, as if the sound has made itself a part of me, creating a home inside my heart.

I’ve never felt such a confusing mix of emotions for Spider as I do now. I want to be far away from him, and yet I hold him tighter, meshing my cheek to the back of his cut as if part of me craves being close to him.

As we pull out of the parking lot and onto the road, I look back to see some of the guys, the women, and Ben waving at us. I wave back, feeling an unexpected pang of sadness. Ben and those women have given me a sense of family and belonging that’s no deeper than I feel with the ladies at Casper’s, but it’s different somehow, and I’ll miss it.

The van pulls in behind and follows us, blocking them and the clubhouse from view, and I rest my cheek against Spider’s cut again as loneliness wraps around me, as though he’s somehow miles away even though he’s right there with me.

The next couple of hours pass by in a blur of roaring engines and desert landscape that looks as desolate as my heart feels. Cap turns down another road in the van an hour after we left White Springs, and Diesel, Reaper and Rat follow, I assume headed to the bike dealer Cap mentioned. This leaves only Spider with me, Pip, Striker, and Dragon.

Few people pass us on the road, and those who do give us a wide berth. As on the way out here, we don’t seem to be doubling back. For the most part, it’s a straight ride toward Diamondback, through a couple of small towns that you could miss if you blinked.

Striker’s motorcycle stalls out about an hour from home, resulting in almost as much cursing from Spider as from Dragon. It’s making unhealthy noises, like a dying dinosaur.

Striker tinkers with it, forcing the others to wait, pacing and cursing at him. Striker won’t leave his ride by the side of the road even when Dragon grumbles that he should, instead pushing the thing to its limits. Apparently, the rule that “Guys don’t ride bitch,” bears no exceptions, even in sweltering heat with the nearest shop who knows how far away.

Striker gets his ride started again, but it sounds like it’s choking its last breath.

It turns out the shop, Gus’ Garage, is only a couple of minutes ride down the ’93. It’s also closed, with a sign on the front door left by the owner.

Closed for business due to family emergency.

“Fuck.” Dragon rips the sign off and tosses it aside. “Come around to the back.”

“Now what do we do?” I ask Spider in an undertone as Dragon mounts up again. “How close is the next shop?”

“Not close enough, girlie,” Dragon growls. “Striker, I’m gonna punch you in the mouth for this.”

“Want me to call another shop, boss?” Pip asks him, reaching for his phone.

Dragon shakes his head. “I know Gus. He keeps a key in the back. I’ll let you in. You can help Striker with the repairs.”

All of us ride around the back of the shop, except Striker who stays with his bike at the front. The back area lets out into a junkyard littered with old motorcycles and bike parts. The back wall of the building is plastered with old signs, some of them with slogans like, Ride or Die,Knees In the Breeze, and You Don’t Always Need A Plan. Sometimes You Just Need Balls.

Dragon goes to the rear door and reaches behind one of the signs on the wall. “Here it is. Right where he always leaves it.” He pulls a key out.

I notice the words on the sign, Highway 69. Catching the double entendre in the name, I roll my eyes, wondering if that’s a real road out here.

Dragon opens the door, letting us in. We use the bathroom, and Dragon opens the repair bay doors. The rest of us sit on benches in the lobby while Striker brings his bike into the repair bay.

Spider buys Cokes and bags of chips from the vending machine for him and me. I gape, watching him go around the front counter and take a few packs of smokes from the shelf. He pauses at the counter for a second, then comes back around to me. Catching me staring, he raises a brow at me as he shoves the smokes into the inside of his cut.

And he calls me a thief?

“You’re….” I trail off.

“You want to say something to me?” He cocks his head.

“You just stole those.”

“That’s rich coming from you.” He cups me under the chin. “Fuck, relax, Miss Moral High Ground. I left Gus the money for them.”

I must have missed that. I sigh. “Sorry.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Dragon watching us with an unnerving intensity. Why does he keep doing that? What’s he waiting for me to do?

Spider captures my wrist and hauls me to my feet. He crushes me against him. “If you want to call me a thief, maybe you need a lesson in respect.” He strokes my mouth with his thumb. “Teach you how to use that mouth the way it’s meant to be used.”

It wouldn’t surprise me if he ordered me to my knees right in the middle of this shop’s lobby.

Heck! Dragon’s less than five feet from us. His lips twitch before he puffs on a smoke. The urge to smack Spider is almost overpowering. The clenching in my sex is almost worse.

“I said I was sorry,” I mutter.

“Just because I kill people doesn’t mean I’m a thief,” he says.

Pip and Dragon both laugh.

I shake my head. See, this is what I mean about keeping me off balance. He goes from the coldhearted biker who treats me like a whore to cracking funnies in an instant.

Striker comes into the lobby a few minutes later, wiping sweat off his brow and knuckling his back. His face is slick, his dark hair plastered to his head with perspiration. Spider throws him a Coke.

“You gonna live, Strike?” Dragon asks.

“Fuck, it’s stifling in there,” Striker mutters. “There’s no breeze coming in through those doors.” He opens his Coke. “You guys are sitting pretty in here chilling your asses while I’m fucking roasting in there. Pip, get the fuck in there and help me.”

“I told you, you should have replaced that fucking rubbish heap,” Spider says.

“Yeah, yeah,” Striker huffs, tugging at the front of his shirt where it’s stuck to his chest.

“If you’re that out of fucking shape, maybe you shouldn’t ride,” Spider teases him. “I’m sure Dragon will be happy to let you ride bitch.”

“Fuck no,” Dragon says, snuffing out his smoke in an ashtray. “You don’t got tits, you don’t touch my ride.”

“Kiss my ass, both of you.” Striker takes a long pull of his Coke.

Spider smirks and takes an extra can of Coke he bought, then shakes it.

“Oh, fuck, don’t you dare!” Striker runs back into the bay and Spider chases him, spraying Coke all over him.

Spider shouts something at him, and I hear Striker call back. “I can take you on anytime, old man…ah! Get away from me, you stupid fuck…”

But both of them are laughing.

I hate how easily watching him roughhouse with his friend makes it so difficult to hate him. Sometimes he’s like a kid, as much of one as Ben.

“Boys, quit fucking around,” Dragon calls. “Don’t make a fucking mess all over Gus’ shop. Striker, get to fixing that piece of shit up. Pip, get in there and help him.”

“He’s on it,” Spider says, patting Striker on the back and then coming back out of the bay. Pip tosses his empty Coke in a garbage can and joins Striker.

Dragon goes off to the bathroom.

Spider pulls me against him, cupping my butt cheeks with his palms and squeezing hard. “Those repairs are going to take a while,” he growls in my ear. “We’re going to make use of this time to give your mouth a good workout—”

“Guys?” Pip calls. “Do you hear that?” He sounds as if he’s swallowed a plum whole. “Guys, we’ve got company.”

Spider lifts his head, his eyes on the window behind me. His grip on my hip tightens. “Fuck,” he growls.

I throw a look over my shoulder. Striker and Pip rush out into the lobby. As soon as I see why, the blood drains out of my face.

No less than eight motorcycles are barreling down the road toward the shop. Their riders are letting out unfriendly yodels that remind me of a of pack wolves zeroing in on prey. When they tear into the lot and circle the opening, I catch sight of the patches on the back of the riders’ cuts. It’s a horned skull in flames. Flaming cursive spells out the club’s name.

Satan’s Bastards MC.

I swallow. “Spider…”

He grabs my hand and rushes me toward the entrance to the bay. “Company, Prez,” he shouts.

“Fuck me.” Dragon rushes over to us and draws his gun from inside his cut. So does Spider.

“In, now.” He pushes me into the bay. “Pip, take her and get those doors shut.”

“You got it.” Pip pulls a gun from his hip.

Spider cups my nape almost painfully. “Stay with him, Wildcat. No matter what happens, don’t come out until I say, understand?”

“Yes, but—”

Before I can finish, Spider and Striker disappear into the front, hurrying to back up Dragon, who’s crouching behind the counter, and Pip pulls me into the bay.

“Stay here.” Pip hurries me behind a truck sitting in the repair area and rushes to shut the bay door.

Heart in my throat, I crouch down behind the back of the truck. These are the men who attacked us the night Cap was shot. They’d come after Spider for killing one of their members, and Spider had finished them off. They’re probably out for his blood.

I don’t want to think about what they’ll do to Spider or the others or me if they capture us. Outside, engines howl and men fill the air with those horrible yodels. Then the gunfire starts, deafening blasts that make the world sound like a Wild West war zone like I’ve seen in clips of old western movies.

I close my eyes, trying to get a handle on my breathing as I hear the bay door closing and Pip’s footsteps coming back towards me.

A hand clamps over my mouth from behind.

I startle, panic bolting through me. When I try to scream, the hand over my mouth tightens, silencing it.

Then the barrel of a gun presses against my temple.

“On your fucking feet, Outlaw whore.”