Page 19 of Road to Absolution

Now, it was me who was hissing…

“But nothing compared to her feelings for you. V and I were there and witnessed her with Art, Kenny, and then you. We watched two young men fall hard for her, but it was the new guy in town who ended up being the lucky one, stealing Lilah’s heart. That hasn’t changed. That woman carrying your baby is still madly in love with you. No Art will ever change that.”

I blew out a nervous breath, nodding as if he could see me. “Thanks, man. I needed to hear that.”

Hanging up and turning my phone to airplane mode, I stared out the window while an attendant gave safety tips over the intercom. My hands opened and closed, aching to touch Delilah, hoping Tuck was right. That I was the only one she wanted.

By the time I got home, my new house was missing a very important component: Lilah.

Nothing looked disturbed inside, but panic rocketed through me when I saw no fucking bikers watching over her!

Feeling sick in my gut, and pissed for not catching an earlier flight, I called Tucker. “Where the fuck is my wife, and why ain’t she answering her goddamn phone?”

It ended up being a false alarm. Apparently, Lilah was horrible with surprises—and with keeping her phone charged. Instead of staying home, where I expected her to be, she had fled to her daddy’s for some leftover BBQ.

Since Tuck, V, and Diesel were already there, and everything seemed hunky-dory, Tuck and I came up with a stellar Plan B; I would surprise Lilah at her dad’s house.

Rain was falling from the sky when I jumped into my dad’s old green Ford truck and raced out of my driveway, not bothering to buckle up. We lived off a paved road, but it was desolate due to being located on the outskirts of town. With my old-school radio blaring, and being only minutes away from holding my wife, I was distracted and barely noticed the three motorcycles that fell into line behind me.

Being on a back-country road, not a known path for random bikers, this was unusual.

Staring at the reflections of three headlights in my rearview mirror, my heartbeat picked up. I lowered the radio as my senses went into high gear. Instincts demanding I be on high alert.

None of the bikers were honking their horns or blinking their lights in a friendly manner like Redemption Ryders would when riding up behind Lilah—Maverick, you’re a dumbass. Of course, they’ve been watching over Lilah the whole time. With a return honk, she would smile really big and look smokin’ hot waving out the window of her blue with black stripes, ’69 Chevy SS Camaro.

Tonight, Lilah wasn’t with me. There was no revving of loud Harley engines or gloved waves. That had mewondering if these bikers Art had for Lilah’s protection, were now on me. Steel Stallions not knowing the local usual treatment. But… Didn’t Tucker say there were only two? Giver and Justice? Who the fuck are these guys behind me?

Just then, one of the motorcycles tailing me decelerated, purposely falling to the back of the line, then pulled off the side of the road. I assumed he wanted to chat with the now fourth motorcycle approaching from the rear.

I was wrong.

Now, I know if a motorcycle is oncoming, in the rain, at night, with no headlights, there is most likely some sinister shit going down. They aren’t friends. At least, not to the ones they are trying to sneak up on.

When I saw the biker who had just pulled over, now flying backward over his bike after the sound of gunfire, I yelled, “Holy Shit!” Heart pounding harder than ever, I wasn’t sure what to do. Pull over? Try to help the man now on his back?

The answer came when the two remaining of the first three bikes got closer to my truck, almost as if begging me to get a move on.

Deciding these Stallions knew better than me, I floored the gas. It was clearly time to haul ass and get as far away from this trouble as possible. I told myself I just needed to make it to our Sheriff’s department. I certainly wasn’t bringing this heat to my wife by going to John’s like I’d planned.

No way in fucking Hell.

In case the Stallions were too busy trying to help me, I decided to call Tuck. Tell him to warn Diesel that trouble was on his turf. While reaching for my cell sitting on the bench seat next to me, I came up on one of the sharp curves on the dark road. Trying not to drive off into the woods, I two-handed the steering wheel and jerked it to the left, causing my cell to slide from the seat and into the floorboard farthest from me. “Fuck!” My tires fishtailed in the rain before I gained control again.

Racing down the road, adrenaline rushed so hard through my body I could barely hear. My ears were ringing with the flood of blood coursing through my veins, trying to help me survive this deadly situation. And deadly it was. The bullet crashing into my rear window was a tell-tale sign I was in even deeper shit than first thought.

I yelled, “Jesus Christ!”

Then I heard ping! Ping! More bullets ricocheting off my truck.

Holy fuck! Bikers are having a fucking war right behind me!

Ducking my head in front of my seized shoulders, attempting to block any other bullets and flying glass, I dared to look in the side and rearview mirrors.

Bottomless dread is a powerful feeling to experience. I know because that is exactly what came over me when I saw there was now only one biker behind me.

Not only was I clueless to what had happened to the other bikers, or who the fuck they were, but I now was fully comprehending that I was the target. The one biker had a gun in hand, directed solely at me.

This was no Stallion sent by Art. This was the trouble V and Tuck had been talking about. And the trouble was now all mine. I was surrounded by darkness, rain, and being out pursued by a roaring Harley that my old truck couldn’t outrun.