Dark Knights Ch. 02

I sat in the service manager's office, my hands shaking so hard I was afraid to pick up the coffee mug someone had left for me. I felt like my world was spinning out of control, but at least my tears had stopped. So much for being the badass biker bitch. She was dead and buried, and this frightened little girl was what was left in her place.

"Reagan, is there someone for us to call? Someone who can come get you? Want me to have one the guys take you home?"

"What?" I asked looking up, the voice finally penetrating the static that was roaring in my brain.

"Is there someone we can call?" John Burnette, my boss, asked again.

I hadn't noticed that he'd returned to his office. "No, but thank you. I just need a minute."

"The cops are sending someone out. I got a call last night about a break-in. Someone broke out a window in the shop, setting off the alarm. I came out, but couldn't find anything disturbed, so I thought it was just kids breaking windows. I'm really sorry, Reagan. I'm sorry I didn't catch that."

"How would you know? You can't go around and open every desk drawer and locker. I should have locked it when I left yesterday. I never do because the locker is empty and there's nothing to steal. I just leave the lock hanging." My lips tightened and thinned as I tried to tamp down the revulsion again. "I won't be making that mistake again."

He nodded. "After you talk to the cops, if you want to go home, I understand. Take the rest of the day off. Tomorrow and Saturday too if you need to. Come back on Tuesday."

John was a good guy. "I don't have a way home. I rode in with a friend this morning. I'll be okay once I get that... mess... cleaned out of my locker."

"I already have one of the guys taking care of the locker, and I can have someone take you home if you want to go. Whoever did that is one sick bastard. Any idea who did it?"

"Yeah. I have a pretty good idea," I said, my voice soft but full of venom.

He grunted. I could tell he was dying to ask, but he didn't. "We'll assign you a new locker. Don't put your name on it this time. In fact, I think we'll take all the names off the lockers so nothing like this happen again. Hang tough, Reagan," he said, his gaze leaving me to look through the glass walls of his office. I followed his gaze to see a young uniformed cop step into the service area. "Hang on. I'll be right back."

He walked out and greeted the officer before motioning him to the back where lockers were located. I swallowed hard, the image of the dead and gutted animal still bright in my mind making my stomach flip over in disgust. A long moment later John reappear with the officer in tow as they walked across the parts department to his office. John paused at the door, gestured the officer into his office, and then closed the door.

"Ms. McKenna, I'm Officer Charles Blayton. I'd like to get a statement from you if you don't mind." I nodded. "Ms. McKenna, do you have any idea who would do something like this? Anyone upset with you for some reason?"

"Hayden Rogan," I snapped without hesitation.

"You believe Mr. Rogan did this? Why?"

"I broke up with him a couple of weeks ago. I guess about a week and a half ago now. He's been following me around. Someone slashed the tires on my car and broke into my house Friday. Nothing was stolen. Later he, Hayden, showed up at my door and said he noticed my house had been broken into. I told him to go away, but then he and his goons were parked in front of my house." I paused, but then decided to give him the full story. "I left last night and stayed in a motel because they were making me nervous."

"Did you call the police?"

I shook my head. "No. They weren't doing anything, but I didn't like them parked in front of my house."

"Did they threaten you in any way?"

"No," I replied as I shook my head.

"Did you recognize the animal? Was it your cat?"

"No. I've never seen it before today." I shuddered. I could still see that poor creature, sliced open with a knife stuck in its body. I ground my teeth as I fought back the tears and the nausea.

"One more question, Ms. McKenna. Do you have any evidence that Mr. Rogan was the individual that cut your tires, broke into your house, or is responsible for this? Anything at all?"

"He was hanging around outside my friend's apartment before my tires were cut."

"But you didn't see him cut your tires? Didn't hear him make any comments alluding to committing either offense?"

"No. I haven't talked to him in several days. I'm trying to ignore him, hoping he will give up and go away."

Officer Blayton snapped his notebook closed. "Ms. McKenna, I'm sorry to tell you this, but there's very little I can do to help you at this time. If Mr. Rogan ever communicates a threat, call us, but until then, without some form of evidence, there's little we can do. You might consider seeing the magistrate and having a no contact order placed on Mr. Rogan."

"I understand."

"I wish I could help you more, I really do. Here's my card. Call me if something like this happens again. If nothing else, I'll try to bust him for animal cruelty. I'll mention this to my captain and see if we can get a patrol car to cruise by your house every now and then. Maybe Mr. Rogan will take the hint."

I took the officer's card and forced a small smile. "Thank you, Officer Blayton. I appreciate whatever you can do."

Going about the mundane task of procuring parts for my customers and the service techs had a calming effect on me, and by lunch time I was nearly back to normal... as long as I avoided the breakroom and seeing the line of lockers in the alcove that adjoined it.

I was walking out of the back with an oil filter for one of my regulars when I saw Hayden waiting at the counter. I plastered a smile on my face, printed the ticket, and handed the filter to the customer.

"Thank you, Ron," I said, forcing my voice into pleasantness.

"Thanks, Reagan. See you next time," the man replied, gesturing with the filter as he turned and moved to the cashier to pay.

As he walked away Hayden stepped up to the counter. "Hey, Reagan. I need a—" he began, all smiles.

"I ought to call the fucking cops on you right now!" I hissed.

"For asking for a set of spark plugs?" he asked with a grin that made my skin crawl.

"Get the fuck out before I have one of the techs show you what it feels like when a wrench goes upside your head."

"Whoa, there," he said, taking a half step back and holding up his hands. "What would the service manager say to you threatening a customer like that?"

"Let me call him and let's find out," I said as I stabbed my finger down on the intercom. "Service manager to parts. Service manager to parts."

John was there in seconds. "What is it, Reagan?"

"Mr. Hayden Rogan is here and wants some spark plugs. I suggested that it would be best for him to purchase them somewhere else." He held my gaze and I nodded, answering his silent question.

John's eyes narrowed. "Get his plugs," he said, his voice hard.

"I ride a—" he began but I turned my back on him without waiting. I knew what plugs he needed. I quickly walked to the bin holding the original equipment plugs for his Sport Glide without having to look up the location.

"I need the wires too," Hayden said, smugness exuding off him when I returned with the plugs.

I ground my teeth, quickly looked up what set his bike took, along with their location, before I returned to the back and got a set of those.

"Is that all Mr. Rogan?" John asked as I stepped out of the parts room with Hayden's ignition wires.

"I think that's all for today."

"Then pay for your items and get out."

"Jesus. Everyone is so friendly around here," Hayden muttered, taking his items and turning away. "It's almost like somebody's cat died or something."

I saw John's jaw muscle bulge as he ground his teeth, but he said nothing as he followed Hayden first to the pay counter and then, after Hayden paid, out the door.

I finished my shift without further incident, and I was hanging around in the intake bay waiting for Bryn to arrive. Word had gotten around the dealership about what was in my locker, along Hayden's sneering near admission. All the guys, including the sales staff, had rallied around me. Each of them, to the last man, had threatened to kick Hayden's ass in turn if he ever showed his face again. Their unstinting support as they made quick checks on me throughout the day had allowed me to relax a little after Hayden's unexpected visit.

Bryn's Subaru pulled to a stop in one of the parking spaces near the bay where the service writers did their work, but before he could even unbuckle his seatbelt, I was walking out. I glanced around before I opened the passenger door but saw no sign of Hayden or any of his club, and I relaxed a little more. Maybe Hayden had done what he'd intended, shocked and revolted me, and then had shown up to gloat and to see my reaction.

The weather looked ugly, the sky dark and grumbling in discontent as if a storm could quickly form. The weather fit my mood perfectly. I felt edgy, as if only a small push would be enough to set me off, and I hoped the High Rollers had hunkered down somewhere to stay out of the threatening weather.

I dropped into Bryn's car and instantly felt better. Before I could buckle my seatbelt, he leaned over, and I met him halfway for a quick kiss. For the first time since arriving at work, a smile dance across my lips, the kiss causing the tension of the day to begin draining away.

"How was your day?" he asked as we backed out of the parking space.

"I've had better."

"What happened?"

"I found a gutted cat in my locker this morning."

He was silent as we pulled to a stop and waited to make a left. He glanced at me. "A real cat?" I nodded. "That motherfucker," he growled. "How?"

"Someone broke in last night. Since nothing was missing, they thought it was vandalism."

"Are you okay?"

I shrugged. "Yeah. I screamed like a girl when I opened the locker door though."

"I'm sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I might have done the same thing," he deadpanned, never looking at me.

The thought of Bryn screaming like a girl made me snicker, his gentle support and teasing improving my day a little more. "It doesn't, but it's not your fault," I said as he zipped across traffic into an opening.

As he did, I watched as five bikes made a right out of the McDonalds parking lot across the street to fall in behind, one of them pulling up beside us in the right lane. I turned to Bryn, but he hadn't missed what was happening as his eyes flicked between the road and the rearview mirror.

"It's Hayden," I said as the rider paced us and smiled at me.

"Don't any of these of these assholes have jobs?" Bryn asked, his voice hard as nails.

I dug in my purse before pulling out and slapping Officer Blayton's card to the window so Hayden could see it. As soon as he looked at it, I pulled it down and dialed my phone.

The phone rang three times. "Blayton."

"Officer Blayton. This is Reagan McKenna. I spoke with you this morning at Bonaventure Harley-Davidson."

"Yes, Ms. McKenna," Blayton's voice came over the phone. I had it on speaker so Bryn could hear as well.

"Officer Blayton, I'm on my way home and Hayden Rogan, along with four of his goons, are following us. They were waiting for me when I left work."

"Is someone with you?"

"My boyfriend," I said, keeping it simple.

Blayton was quiet for a moment. "Do you know where the Savannah Mall is? Come in on Shawnee and then turn into the mall near Apache. I'll be there, and if he's still following you, I'll have a chat with Mr. Rogan."

I breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Officer Blayton. We'll be there in five or ten minutes. I'm in a blue Subaru WRX owned by Bryn Ludlow."

"I'm about three minutes from there," Blayton said as I heard his car roar with acceleration over the phone.

Hayden and the rest of his club tried to steer us to where they wanted us to go by blocking lanes, but Bryn refused to play their game as he resolutely signaled and changed lanes. As we made our way toward the mall, the bikers could either move or be run over. They moved, but they also kicked the side of his car several times in frustration. Bryn said nothing, but I could see the muscles in his jaw working as the Rollers kept damaging his car, and I felt bad for him. His Subaru was, or had been, a well maintained and handsome car.

As we made a right on to Abercorn, it began to rain. "Good," he rumbled as he clicked on the wipers. "I hope these bastards catch pneumonia."

Unlike Abercorn, Apache was a two-lane side street, and as we made our right, the Rollers fell in behind us before two roared past. It was only a single long block before we had to make a left on Shawnee, and we had to give away our intention by pulling into the left turn lane. A car following the Rollers crept to a halt beside us as we waited at the stop sign to block us in.

The two bikes in front of us made a left, but slowly. We stopped and then followed, the bikes in front creeping along. We followed them for a few dozens of feet, before Bryn whipped into the oncoming lane and tried to race past them before darting to the left into the mall parking lot. Sitting on the mall road surrounding the parking lot were three cruisers, two sitting nose to tail on our right, with a single cruiser facing the other way on the left.

Bryn made a left onto the service road, and as the Rollers trailed us, the two prowler cars fell in behind us, lights flashing, as the third cruiser flipped on its lights, made a sharp U-turn, and fell into formation with us. We kept going, driving just over twenty miles per hour, the five bikers and three patrol cars following us. When the bikers didn't stop, one of the cars blipped its siren.

"You, on the motorcycles, pull over," a voice boomed over the cruiser's speaker.

"Hold on," Bryn grunted when the bikers stayed on our tail.

He briefly stabbed the brakes. I turned, watching between the seats as the front bikes skidded in a panic stop, the wet road offering little traction as they braked hard to avoid hitting the back of our car. After the hard dab at the brakes, he quickly downshifted and floored the accelerator. The Subaru howled as we rocketed away. Still peering between the seats, I watched as one of the cop cars darted from behind the suddenly confused Rollers as they scattered to avoid collisions, the patrol car accelerating around the melee before whipping around in front of the bikes and braking hard as the car crossed the road. One of the cruisers pulled up along the right side of the bikes as they stopped, trapping them against the curb and landscaping, as the third car turned sideways in the road behind the Rollers to box them in.

Bryn immediately slowed as he exhaled. "Let's hope that's the end of this."

"Yeah. I hope," I replied, still watching between the seats as we continued to circle the mall.

There didn't appear to be a lot happening, and the officers were still in their cars as the knot of cars and bikes disappeared behind the mall.

We drove to my house without further incident, speaking little as the Subaru hissed through the rain, its wipers thumping in a metronome like cadence. As we approached my house, I saw a man wearing the Roller's colors leaning on a motorcycle at the curb. As Bryn slowed, I felt a rush of panic.

"Don't stop!" I urged, but he ignored me as he pulled his car into the drive.

As the car slowed to a stop, the man at the curb didn't move, seeming content to prop against his motorcycle in the rain. Bryn removed his glasses and tossed them onto the flat space on the dash above the center air conditioner vents.

"What are you going to do?" I asked, my voice rising in panic.

"Go inside. Get a couple of bags packed. This shit has gone far enough, and I'm going to send a message," he said as he opened his door.

My breath froze in my chest and I grabbed his arm. "Bryn! Wait! Don't!" I begged as he jerked his arm free and got out of the car. I quickly opened my door and scrambled out. "Bryn!" I shouted over the roof. "Bryn! Don't! No!"

Bryn ignored me as he strode across the lawn, his steps swift and sure. The man at the curb stood from his relaxed position, a nasty smile on his face and his arms crossed over his chest as Bryn approached. Terror filled me. I couldn't breathe or move, watching in horror as the unnoticed rain soaked me.

Bryn continued across the yard, never slowing. The man lowered his arms as Bryn neared, but without hesitation or saying a word, Bryn stepped in close and threw a vicious straight right that coldcocked the man. The Roller's head snapped backwards so hard I was surprised it didn't fly off as he stumbled back, knocking his bike over before falling on top of it. The Roller had seriously underestimated Bryn, and now he was paying for it.

Bryn reached down, grabbed the Roller by his cut, and hauled him off his bike and back to his feet. The man was still reeling from the first blow when Bryan threw another devastating right, driving the meaty part of his hand straight into the man's face. Blood sprayed from the man's nose and mouth as Bryn held him by his jacket with his left hand.

I was surprised that Bryn hadn't hit the Roller with his fist, but the blows must have still been ruinous as I saw the man wobble with the second crushing blow. As Bryn jerked his hand back, preparing to rain more destruction down on his foe, the man lunged forward and wrapped Bryn up before driving him to the ground. I wanted to help, I wanted to run get a neighbor to help Bryn, but things were moving too fast, only seconds having passed from Bryn's first blow.

The two men hit the ground and I heard Bryn grunt with the impact. The man threw a wild punch, most of which Bryn blocked, but he couldn't avoid the blow entirely and caught some of it on his cheek. As Bryan began to bleed, the two men squirmed in frantic effort, the Roller bellowing in rage or pain as he tried to drive another first into Bryn's face.

My breath stilled in my chest again as the man cocked his fist, but Bryn grabbed the man's arm, spoiling his aim as the man drove his fist into the ground in a clean miss. With the man off balance from his failed attack, Bryn drove his hand under the Roller's chin while grabbing his hair and pulling. The goon tried to pull Bryn's hand away from his chin, tearing his shirt as he hauled on Bryn's arm, then failing that, grabbed desperately for Bryn's face. The Roller's hands clawing at his face, Bryn inexorably forced the Roller's head back, baring his teeth in a feral snarl as he strained against the goon. The two men were frozen in deadly combat for what seemed like hours, their faces twisted with pain and hate.

As Bryn slowly won the contest of strength, the man had to either relent, have his head twisted off, or his back broken. When the Roller fell back, trying to escape, Bryn tumbled with him, the two men kicking and squirming as they snarled, before Bryn rose on his knees, straddled the man, and jammed his left hand hard into the other man's throat. The man realized he'd lost what little advantage he had and began clawing at Bryn, grabbing Bryn's shirt while trying to dislodge him. Bryn jerked free, further tearing his shirt, before he began to drive one hard, open-handed, blow after another into the man's face.

The Roller, his face now a bloody pulp, made one final attempt to rally by grabbing at Bryn's face while holding him close by the tatters of his shirt. Bryn, his face a mask of rage, paused his blows long enough to grab the man's wrist, the muscles of his arms and chest bulging with effort as he slowly pulled the Roller's hand free while further destroying his shirt. The Roller bellowed in effort, pain, and perhaps fear the instant before Bryn overpowered him and crossed his arms over his chest.