Break Me Open (Desert Wraiths MC)

  Break Me Open

  Amy Kiss

  ©2014

  Amy Kiss

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or copied without permission. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental.

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  Contents

  Part 1: Crack

  Chapter 1: Katie

  Chapter 2: Ghost

  Chapter 3: Katie

  Chapter 4: Ghost

  Chapter 5: Katie

  Chapter 6: Ghost

  Chapter 7: Katie

  Chapter 8: Ghost

  Chapter 9: Katie

  Chapter 10: Ghost

  Chapter 11: Katie

  Chapter 12: Ghost

  Part 2: Bloom

  Chapter 13: Katie

  Chapter 14: Ghost

  Chapter 15: Katie

  Chapter 16: Ghost

  Chapter 17: Katie

  Chapter 18: Ghost

  Chapter 19: Katie

  Chapter 20: Ghost

  Chapter 21: Katie

  Chapter 22: Ghost

  Chapter 23: Katie

  Chapter 24: Ghost

  Chapter 25: Katie

  Chapter 26: Ghost

  Chapter 27: Katie

  Chapter 28: Ghost

  Chapter 29: Katie

  Chapter 30: Ghost

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  Tonight’s just another night.

  I studied myself in the bathroom mirror. The lights were off and the moonlight made me look like one of those old Victorian portraits. Young women, unsmiling and now long dead. My face was framed with dark blonde hair that made my pale skin look downright ghostly. Guys didn’t like it when a girl looked newly awakened from the dead right? I hoped not.

  I thought of my friend Sandy and managed a smile. That made me look decent. A solid B+. Not that I was going to let myself be graded tonight.

  I walked back through the warm, still townhouse, breathing in these last moments of silence. I could hear my heart pounding in my ear though, at just the thought of going out on the town for the first time in months.

  Just another night, I told myself again.

  It wasn't though. If it was, I'd be nestled into the couch cushions with something bright and funny on the TV. Maybe Sandy would be lounging on the far end. The only commotion would be us laughing our butts off.

  Sandy was on her way over, but tonight she'd convinced me to leave my cave. For nothing less than a bar on the outskirts of town, just blocks from the desert where things got rough. A little bit of danger before sinking into the routine of a new semester of classes. That was her pitch, and after the hundredth time hearing it, I'd surrendered. I owed her.

  Blast some music on the way there. Grab a couple drinks. Ogle some cute guys from a safe distance - if I felt especially frisky - and be back safe and sound by midnight.

  My phone gave me five more minutes. I went to the dining room, and looked up to the picture of my parents. They were folded into each other as if they were fighting for the center. Their smiles said they were just trying to be as close as possible. They beamed out at me, and for a flash I could see them in front of me; the best kind of haunting.

  Their ghosts didn't linger like they used to. Another beat and there was just the picture, still as the wall around it.

  A long screech ripped through the house, and I nearly jumped out of my high heels. It went off again and I recognized the sound of the car horn.

  Sandy was early. She was never early. This was an unsettling start to the night. What the hell did she have planned?

  I smiled at my parents, grabbed my purse and went out my porch door. Sandy was leaning across the passenger seat, waving madly. Like I had just stumbled out here by accident.

  I took a deep breath, and glanced back at the house. I’d be back to all this soon enough.

  It was just another night.

  Tonight was the night.

  The desert air washed hot over me. I revved my faithful steed and cut through it even faster. Sand skittered across the road, a ghostly veil over my path. It didn't matter. I knew exactly where I was headed. This desert was home now. Hell, I'd spent all my life in some desert or another. Here in Arizona or in Afghanistan, North Africa - all one and the same.

  I checked my mirror and saw my club brothers perched on their own choppers. Thick maned faces, stern and ready. One after the other.

  I saw myself, too. My hard edged face. My blond fuzz of hair, shorn every other week, by habit. And my eyes. Predator's eyes which had come into this world blue, but now went beyond that. They caught the reflections of the moon and glowed like unearthly blue flames.

  I was something that went beyond nature. At night, the whole world could see what the army had turned me into.

  Specters - we'd called each other back in my unit. The bikers in the Desert Wraiths motorcycle club preferred simpler words.

  Here, I was Ghost.

  Tonight, I was a vengeful spirit. Ever since I'd left the service and come back home, I'd told myself nothing mattered. There was no good, no evil. Just the rules you kept and the ones you broke. The sort of thing you tell yourself to let go of years of discipline and run with a 1% biker gang. Selling drugs. Sleeping with girls who just wanted a discount on product. Dishing violence in the name of profit.

  Not this night though. Tonight, all my training, all my service, all my hard-won practice would go into dealing with a man whose rules I could not abide. Whose rules should not be abided. They dealt pain and suffering to those who had already given up everything. After months of aimless days, drunken evenings and haunted nights, I finally had a chance for redemption. I remembered that I needed redeeming at all.

  This night, I had purpose.

  We turned a hill, and the city of Gilsner emerged, another twinkling galaxy below the star speckled sky.

  Tonight was the night I would find myself again.

  I revved once more and we roared on toward the lights below.

  I sipped at an empty glass, trying to decide what I regretted more - letting Sandy drag me out here, or letting her leave with that so-called Hollywood stuntman. Why would a stuntman live here in Gilsner, four hours from LA? I might not be thinking straight, but I didn't buy that story. But I wasn't Sandy. That poser had taken my best friend and left me alone in this rat's nest of a bar.

  Thank god she had left her keys. I didn’t have a license, technically, but I’d rather risk cops than the people here.

  I swept the room with a massive pair of beer goggles on. ‘Rough’ was too smooth a word for this place. I saw a women with spiky purple hair swirl her tongue down a guy's throat. I saw two men nod and pass a fistful of something between their jackets. I saw other faces, grizzled and hungry doing their own scan and meeting mine. I quickly looked down at the suds left of my drink.

  The bar sat at the very edge of what Gilsner considered its township. Beyond were a few factories and warehouses, just outside the town. I guess it was some zoning or pollution thing. Past that was wide open desert and the sort of people who needed their privacy. In a way, the Roaring Pint was a sort of border crossing, where bikers met some of the shadier townsfolk for fun, fighting, and everything in between.

  “Safe, but not too safe,” Sandy had said brightly. You'd think after eight years of knowing her, I would have f
inally figured out how to listen to her words and not her voice.

  She was right, though, this place did help get me out of my head. By making me fear for my life.

  At least I had decided to stick with capris and a t-shirt instead of the microskirt that Sandy had tried to convince me to change into.

  I was trying to calculate how long I'd need to sober up when I heard the jangle of breaking glass. A more solid thud followed and I saw two guys topple on the other side of the bar, one yelping. Probably from landing on broken glass.

  It was only 11.

  Yeah, I could sober up just fine in Sandy’s car. I grabbed my purse and stumbled past the fight, glad that it drew attention away. These high-heels weren't doing much to hide how drunk I was.

  A couple guys stared at me over lit cigarettes as I emerged outside. "Hey honey, you need a ride?" one asked with an easy smile. He wore a thick leather jacket with some logo that broke across the zipper, but he was clean and kinda cute.

  "That's sweet, but no." Even if I was in a mood to trust strangers, the last thing I ever wanted to do was get on a bike ever again. Not after what had happened to my parents.

  "If you like sweet why don't you come on over? I got a treat."

  Less sweet. I steadied myself, and quickly crossed the street when the signal turned. I tried to keep an eye on him as I pattered away. Somewhere through the beer, my brain knew that jaywalking wouldn't bother a guy who wanted a drunken prize, but I felt relieved anyway when the crossing light turned red.

  Until I realized I had no idea where we’d parked the car.

  This area had been packed 3 hours ago and we'd circled through a few times before Sandy had stolen a spot. They were all open now. People who worked here knew better than to linger too long after the sun set. I crossed a side street and saw the car all by itself so far away. I sighed and clopped towards it with drunken abandon. I completely forgot to keep an eye on my back.

  Fortunately no one followed me.

  Unfortunately, it wasn't my car.

  A coyote howled somewhere out in the empty beyond. I had a sudden burst of rage that made me kick the tires of this stranger's car and sent silent tears down my face. I just wanted to be home, safe and snug on my couch, watching some reality trash on Netflix. That was how I wanted to de-stress before heading back to another year of vet tech. Why oh why had I agreed to this?

  I collapsed against the driver door, too annoyed to move. Iron bars barred the view across the street, and piles of cargo crates sat stacked up past it. I looked around and saw more makeshift red and blue metal towers. It was like I were in some maze.

  The moon shone past the cargo crates though. This wasn't all that bad a spot to chill out. I could pretend I was some trapped princess instead of a drunk moron. As long as the guy who drove this piece of crud didn't show up.

  Voices drifted through the dry air. I cursed myself for jinxing my luck. There was no one on the street, though.

  I popped my head up like a prairie dog. Through the car windows, I could see a couple guys walking through the fenced-off cargo yard on the other side. They didn't look like workers, not with the thick leather jackets and ragged jeans. They also didn't look to be best friends.

  The smaller one, lean and sinewy, seemed to be fidgeting and talking a lot. He reminded me of a cartoon mouse. The other guy stood a foot above. His face looked hard and set, like it had been etched by the elements. He had blond hair cut short that glowed white in the moonlight. He wasn't doing anything to threaten the guy. He wasn't talking. Why bother? His body said enough.

  It was his eyes, though, that held my gaze. They shimmered even when he stood still. It made this hulk looked beyond human. Like a god.

  Not a nice one though.

  The two were about to disappear behind another stack of cargo, when the hulk set a hand on his companion’s shoulder. In my beer haze, the smaller guy actually turned to stone under that touch. The next moment, he was water, trying to wiggle away, but the hulk's hands had gripped, ever so slightly. That was enough.

  "Listen." The mouse’s voice had become shrill enough to make out. "I'm sorry, OK? I'm sorry."

  The hulk said nothing.

  "I lied, ok. I admit. I lied. And I'm sorry."

  A gust of wind was all the answer he got.

  "I'll give you a discount, huh? No I'll get you free supply." His voice went low, conspiratorial.

  His back was to me now, and I could see him slowly pull a gun from his waistband.

  I was going to see a murder. I had known the moment I saw them, but now I knew who was killing who. I should yell or scream, but there wasn’t a person around. More than that, I felt this bizarre urge to see what those strange blue eyes would make of the gun. My breath came to a complete stop as it came loose off the belt.

  The next part made no sense without the alcohol.

  The gun came up right against the hulk's temple, but the hulk disappeared. He returned, except now he had the gun. I blinked a few times as if that would jog my memory.

  "No. No no no." The mouse was whimpering now, turning away, as if the bullet could only find him if he looked.

  "Ok," the hulk said, in a rich and deep voice. The gun went clattering across the pavement.

  The mouse peered back at the sound. He looked at the hulk's empty hand.

  It twitched and now it held a knife. It flashed in the moonlight.

  It returned coated in something dark.

  I blinked. Now the knife hilt stuck out of the mouse’s throat. He gurgled and went staggering towards the fence. Towards me. His eyes searched everywhere, and then locked on mine. His mouth opened, and I scrabbled back, away from this thing that had been a man. The hulk watched from behind. Under that gaze, his eyes cast the rest of his face in shadow. I hugged the street before he could see me.

  Everything remained silent. When I looked up again, the hulk was gone. There was only the sound of something wet beginning to dribble down the curb. I could only imagine how much blood must be out to cross the fence and reach near my car.

  I listened to the blood drip, wanting nothing more than to leave this place and its stillness. That was death, wasn't it? The lack of motion in a person's life, in a person’s chest, inside her heart. I had seen animals die. I had even had to deliver death to old or sick animals. It was the silence that I found so eerie. That empty space, where a life once was.

  Well, I got rescued from that. Voices returned. Two new ones with the occasional interjection from that deep and sinewy one I'd heard once before. The killer.

  "Make sure you check the crates for blood smears," he said.

  "The fuck I look like, a maid?" one of the new voices asked.

  "Hell, no," another voice said. "You look like shit, is what."

  "Aw go fuck yourself. And fuck you, Ghost. It's your mess. You wipe it."

  "It's our mess, Twist," the killer said. "You looking to get the club in trouble? Is that what I tell Nico?"

  I really wanted to see, but all I could imagine was peeking over and seeing the dead man coming towards me through the bars, hands clutching at his throat. Instead, I found my phone, switched it to night mode and snaked it up to the window.

  No dead man. Just three dudes in leather jackets. The pale killer stood a couple inches taller than the next, but his body seemed completely at rest while others fidgeted.

  The first new guy swore off into the sky. "Why couldn't I kill him and you clean up?"

  The killer shrugged. His shoulders looked like two peaks rising out of a mountain "Cause you didn't."

  "Fine, fuck it, whatever. We'll take care of it."

  The killer nodded and looked out at the body. His eyes glowed red on-screen for a moment, and I shivered though the air was pretty warm. Then his eyes lifted up, and for a moment he was looking right at the lens. I fought the urge to yank it out of view. After a moment, his gaze left.

  Then he left. The other two grumbled and came toward the fence. I was ready for them to pull out garbage b
ags, but they just pulled out the glistening knife, propped the dead guy up and began winding a white bandage round his neck.

  "Christ, man, that’s enough. You dressing him up for Halloween?"

  "You want him to be leaking blood if a cop sees us?"

  "If a cop is close enough to see blood under a helmet, we're gonna have to ice him anyway so who cares."

  I should be recording this. I had seen a murder, but this was video proof. I could just turn it in and walk away.

  I pulled the phone back to make sure the sound was turned off. I clicked on the recording and put it back so the red light didn't show.

  The two bikers wiped down the place and then poured something bleach smelling all over the place. The dead guy sat against a crate like he was resting from a neck sprain.

  "Hey you go get that stuff outside," one of the bikers said. "I'll mop up the rest of this here."

  Outside?

  Oh no.

  One of the guys landed heavy on the pavement, just on the other side of the car. His tobacco smell hit me and I nearly peeed myself. It had felt like I was watching TV before, but now this was real. This was Poltergeist and they were here.

  Maybe I should just pretend I was passed out over here. But these guys had no problem with murder. What was a little rape on top of that? Even better if she didn’t remember.

  The biker poured some more bleach on the other side of the car, completely oblivious. He would reach under soon, and see me. I pocketed my phone and shuffled behind a wheel, right before his hands began scrubbing under the car.

  "Aw shit." His voice boomed under the car. "Man, it's all under here."

  "That's his car, dummy," the other biker called out. "We gotta move it anyway."

  I heard the jingle of keys.

  This was the dead guy's car. I looked around, but the rest of the street was as barren as I’d remembered

  "We go dump him first and then get that shit. Ain't no one coming round here for hours."

  I sighed in relief.

  The scrubbing stopped for a moment.