Wrong Side of the Tracks by Ashley Zakrzewski

ChapterSix

Hawk heard the sirens as soon as he ran out of the Powder House. It only took a few minutes for the men to get their shit together, hop on their bikes, and head to Izzy’s apartment. They’d already agreed to separate and surround the bar’s parking lot from two different directions, with Hawk’s team coming up on the west side and Eagle’s team moving in from the south.

But when he turned off of Main Street, he stopped and raised his hand so the others would stop as well. The police had the entire street cordoned off, and an ambulance had pulled into the parking lot behind the bar. His phone rang, and he turned off his bike before answering, “Cali? What the hell is happening?”

“It’s a mess.” Cali coughed and cleared his throat. “Three gunmen hit us and took off. Cops showed up, probably because the neighbors called in the gunshots. I’m surprised you didn’t hear them at the clubhouse. It was like a damn wild west firefight.”

Hawk closed his eyes and leaned one arm on the bike’s handlebar. “Is anyone hurt?”

“No. It’s a miracle Izzy and I are both fine considering the amount of lead in the apartment and the hazards on our escape route. I only got off a few shots before we left, all of them misses. Izzy got us out before we were hit and before the cops arrived. We’re hiding a few blocks away, in the pawn shop’s office. I have to tell you, your girl was awesome.”

He ignored the “my girl” comment, but a warmth filled his chest. “Do the cops know you were at the apartment?”

“I don’t think so. Izzy never signed a lease. So unless Tish tells them Izzy was living above the bar, or the neighbors saw us and are willing to ID us, no one will know she was there. And my bike is still behind the bakery.”

“Just a sec.” Hawk covered the receiver with his hand and waved Thor over. “Go see Tish. Tell her not to say anything about Izzy working for her or living in the apartment. And tell Volt to talk quietly to the neighbors. We don’t want them IDing Cali or Izzy. Then send a prospect to retrieve Cali’s bike behind Raven Black café.”

The Devil’s Renegades worked hard to keep the town safe and clean. They didn’t allow protection rackets, drug distribution, strip clubs, or prostitution within the town’s limits. That way, if the townsfolk ever had to make a choice, most of them would choose loyalty to the club which kept them safe over talking to the police.

Thor nodded, hurried back to Volt, and a moment later they both rode away.

Hawk returned to his phone conversation with Cali. “Can you ID the gunmen?”

“They didn’t wear colors, but they rode Harley Dynas.”

Most outlaw MC members rode those bikes. “Anything else?”

“I can’t say for sure, but I think one of the shooters was the same guy who showed up at the clubhouse last night looking for you.”

Hawk rubbed his forehead with his fist. “Fuck.”

Thomas Pole, a stiff and rule-obeying uniformed officer who the MC knew well, stood near the ambulance. When he noticed Hawk, he walked toward him.

He pressed the phone against his ear. “Cali, stay hidden until I get there and keep Izzy safe. I need to make sure the cops don’t follow me. And call Eagle. He’s coming in from the south side of town.”

“Got it.”

“I’ve sent a prospect to get your bike. You leave a spare in the clubhouse?” Spare keys were one of the club’s non-negotiable SOPs.

“Of course,” Cali said.

Thomas made hand motions for Hawk to come closer. But since there was no way he’d do that, he shoved his phone in his back pocket, turned on the ignition, and made a U-turn. Cheery and Twitch followed him as he took a long, winding way back to the Powder House. He wanted nothing more than to head directly to the pawn shop and take care of Izzy, but he didn’t want to lead anyone to her.

Besides, before he saw Izzy again, he needed time to think. The attack on Cali and Izzy required retribution on the Black Jacks. The kind of retribution that would end in blood.

* * *

Izzy was incredibly grateful for the cold soda Cali handed her when he returned to the pawn shop’s office. After crossing six roofs of different heights, she’d led him down a drain pipe that dumped them into a dark, smelly alley.

He’d taken control after that and had brought her here, to this old building probably built during the Civil War, that smelled like dried leather shoe polish and fresh cat pee. For some reason, he had a key to the building. Once inside, he’d dumped her in the office only to disappear to call Hawk.

She opened the can and sank into a folding chair near a metal filing cabinet. The messy desk, piled high with documents, had been placed in the middle of the room. Cali had taken the chair behind the desk, and her bag lay on the floor at her feet. “Are you sure it’s okay to be here? Won’t the owner get upset?”

Cali grunted as he drank his soda. “The club owns this place. It’s fine.”

“Oh.” She studied the room that had so many boxes and bags the door wouldn’t shut. “I never knew motorcycle clubs owned businesses.”

“Not all of them.” Cali raised his soda can in a salute. “The smart ones do, though. Real estate, gun shops, car and truck repair garages, bars, strip clubs—”

“Really?” She took another long sip of the cold, sweet drink.

“Strip clubs are a great way to launder money.” He placed his can on the desk and leaned forward, hands clasped. “Are you okay? We had quite the runaway adventure.”

She nodded. Please don’t ask me about the getaway route. “Did you see the shooters? Do you know who they were?”

He studied her for a long moment before shaking his head. Then he pulled out his phone and began texting.

So they were both holding on to secrets. She glanced at the clock, surprised to find it was only eight o’clock. It felt so much later. When she finished her soda, she placed it on the desk and noticed her duffel bag on the floor. Then she glanced at Cali who was texting and not looking at her. Slowly, and with great care not to make a lot of noise, she unzipped the outer pocket of her bag and palmed her prepaid cell phone. “Cali, is there a restroom?”

“Yeah.” Still texting, he nodded toward the hallway. “Turn left. It’s down on the right.”

“Thanks.” She slipped out of the room and hurried toward the restroom. Instead of going in, she moved past it, toward the solid steel door that covered the back entrance. After a few deep breaths, she opened the phone and dialed the number.

It rang, and she leaned against the wall covered in paneling that had probably been installed in the 1960s. “Come on. Come on. Come on.”

The call went to voicemail, and she shut it without leaving a message. Part of her was relieved, another part was angry that no one had picked up. For the past few months, since she’d received the phone, she’d assumed someone would pick up instantly the moment she needed help. But maybe the promises they made when they gave her the phone weren’t promises at all. Maybe they’d just given her false hope.

Her stomach growled and she laughed. Despite all the morning’s stress, she was hungry.

A sound came from the back door, and she turned to see Hawk come storming in, headed toward her. The door slammed shut behind him. She shoved her phone in her back pocket and pressed her back against the wall. He never slowed down. He strode directly to her, grabbed her arms, and pulled her into his chest. Then, without asking, he kissed her.

His mouth, warm and demanding, commanded hers to open. When she obliged, his tongue plundered, and he gently bit her bottom lip. He tasted like peppermint breath mints, and reminded her of warm spring days and freshly cut grass. He wrapped one arm around her waist and his other hand held her head at the perfect angle. He deepened the kiss until her hands, which were pressed against her chest, softened. Erotic memories of their long, hot, naked nights together flooded her mind and left her desperate for more.

He lifted his head and placed a palm against the wall so his large body was all she could see. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” She swallowed and blinked away the unexpected tears. His concern touched something deep inside her. No one in her life since her father died—especially not her mother or stepfather—had shown any interest in her life. Yet here he was kissing her and worrying about her even though she’d offered no promise of sex in return. “I’m glad Cali was there.”

“Me too.” He kissed her forehead, took her hand, and led her into the office where they found Cali sitting in a chair, his boots propped up on the desktop, his phone pressed to his ear.

“For you.” He got up and handed the phone to Hawk. “It’s Eagle.”

Hawk headed back into the hallway saying, “What’s wrong now?”

Once he was out of earshot, Cali picked up her bag and smiled at her. “By the way, thanks for the save earlier. How did you know to escape over the roofs?”

She shrugged as if it were no big deal, as if every woman knew how to escape a dangerous situation by skipping across rooftops and shimmying down drain pipes. “I watch a lot of action movies.”

Cali’s eyes narrowed—until he laughed and small wrinkles appeared on his forehead. She wasn’t sure if he believed her, but she didn’t want to keep talking about it. She just needed to get out of this mess and leave town as quickly as possible. Although she had no idea where she’d go or how far she’d get without a car. With the cash in her bag, she might be able to buy a bus ticket. She’d just never taken a bus before and wasn’t sure how the public transportation system worked in rural Virginia. She wasn’t even sure if buses drove on Sundays.

Hawk returned and handed the phone back to Cali. “I’m taking Izzy to the Powder House. Eagle will pick you up in the truck. I don’t want you wandering around the streets in case the Black Jacks are still out there. By now they’ll know they didn’t hit their target. They may be testy about that.”

Cali glanced at her. “Do you know if you or Izzy were the target?”

“No.” Hawk took her bag from Cali. “I’ll tie this to the back of my bike. Another prospect has already retrieved your bike from behind the bakery.”

“Okay.” Cali gave her a huge smile which she hoped was sincere. “I’m not too proud to admit I had no idea how to get out of that situation. I’d love to know how you figured it out.”

She shrugged.

Hawk’s gaze narrowed on her before he said, “Let’s go.” Then he took her arm in a surprisingly firm grip.

She left, not thrilled with the way Hawk kept issuing orders. Yet, she also had to acknowledge the fact she was way out of her depth. Maybe going to the clubhouse was a good idea. It would get her off the streets and give her a chance to figure out her next moves. The clubhouse might even have a bus schedule.

Once outside, she found his bike hidden between a black dumpster and a large, metal storage container. He handed her his helmet and began to tie her duffel bag to the back of his bike. There was a strange awkwardness between them now, and she wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because everything that had happened this morning had been strange and awkward. She’d survived a shootout, an escape across the rundown roofs of Main Street, and was about to go to an outlaw MC clubhouse. She also had to wear a helmet that hurt her head and her chin.

Hawk finished tying her bag, turned around to face her, and laughed loudly.

“What’s wrong?” She pulled on the strap that scraped her skin.

“You have the helmet on backwards.” He unsnapped the strap and pulled off the helmet. Then he placed it correctly on her head and connected the straps. “Better?”

She touched her chin and nodded. Her face had a horrible tendency to turn red and hot when she was embarrassed and right now her cheeks burned. “Yes. Thanks.”

He mounted his bike. “Get on and wrap your arms around my waist. We’re not too far from the clubhouse, but I’m going to drive as fast as I can without getting stopped.”

She got on the bike behind him and clasped his waist. She pressed her cheek against his leather cut just as he turned on the bike. The engine’s vibrations along her inner things made her stomach clench and her arms tighten even more.

He drove out of the parking lot and turned into a narrow alley. If her clinging hurt him, he didn’t mention it. He just stepped on the gas and pushed the bike even faster. She enjoyed the wind scraping her face and blowing strands of hair around her face. He drove through more alleys and down back roads, twisting and turning, while she followed his lead about which way to lean. Soon, she felt relaxed enough to loosen her grasp on his body and watch the sky fly by above them. For the first time in forever, she wasn’t worried about her father, the phone in her back pocket, or that stupid ring.

For the first time in forever, she felt free.

A few minutes later, once they were on a lonely country road and away from all of the town’s homes and businesses, Hawk paused the bike in front of an enormous rolling gate. It was embedded between ten-foot-tall concrete walls topped with razor wire. Since her car had been towed to the garage, she’d never been inside. But the one time Tish had driven her by, the gate had been open enough to see the busy mechanics and machines that made tons of noise. It seemed like any other automotive business. Now, as they drove forward, the sounds of the motorized gate and metal wheels filled the empty courtyard. Today, the place felt like a fortress. She glanced back to see the gate lock shut. Or maybe a prison.

Hawk parked the bike in front of a brick building with the words Powder House carved over the front door. On the left, she saw the large garages with their doors pulled down. On the right, there was a long, three-story building that resembled a roadside motel. She got off the bike and handed him the helmet. The brick building reminded her of the old houses she’d once seen in Williamsburg, Virginia. The kind of houses that had once witnessed tricorn hats, horse-drawn carriages, and probably hosted George Washington.

Hawk placed the helmet on the handlebars and sent her a firm glare. Not at all like the way he’d looked at her when he’d been helping her with the helmet a few minutes ago. His moods were almost as mercurial as hers. And that was not a good thing.

“Wait here,” he ordered.

She nodded, but he didn’t notice. He just hurried up the stairs and entered the brick building, leaving her alone in the courtyard.

Maybe this was a mistake.

She walked around the courtyard, trying to figure out another escape plan, when the phone in her back pocket buzzed. She glanced around to make sure she was alone before pulling it out and answering, “Yes?”

“Are you ready to make a deal?” As usual, the female voice sounded officious and curt.

She tucked stray hairs behind her ear. “I’m ready to hear your offer.”

“Only in person. Where can we meet you?”

“So, there’s a problem with that plan.” Izzy lowered her voice. “I’m kind of stuck with an outlaw motorcycle club. I’m not sure how to get away.”

The woman inhaled sharply. “You let the Black Jacks take you?”

“No. I’m with the Devil’s Renegades in Ravensburg, Virginia.”

“Isolde? Are you fucking a biker?”

“Not right now.” Which, technically, was the truth.

The woman let out a long string of other curses, some of which Izzy had never heard before. “Tell me, Isolde. How did a Harvard valedictorian, with a degree in applied mathematics, end up at the Powder House?”

“By accident.” Two men came out of a door near the car garages. They were talking to each other, hands waving, and hadn’t noticed her yet. There was no place to hide, so she turned away and whispered, “I have to go.”

“Wait. We’ll make this work. I need time to figure it out, but we will come get you. Keep the phone close and we’ll text you the plan. We’ll try and make it today. You’re not alone. You need to remember that.”

“If you’re going to come, sooner is better because the Black Jacks know I’m in town.”

“Isolde.” The woman’s scolding voice sounded so much like Izzy’s mother’s voice—exhausted and exasperated. “You are so much smarter than this.”

“So I’ve been told.” A million times. By her irresponsible mother and evil stepfather. “I’ll wait for the text.”

She shut the phone and shoved it in her back pocket. When she turned around, the two tall men were walking toward her. One had a bald tattooed head, huge biceps, and facial scars. The other man had long black hair braided with silver beads that matched his earrings. Their harsh faces, along with their black leather cuts, made them appear even more menacing.

The bald one said, “You need to come with us.”

She nodded and prayed that they hadn’t heard her talking to her contact. The last thing she wanted the members of the Devil’s Renegades outlaw motorcycle club to know was that she’d just made a deal with Agent Miller of the FBI.