Savior Ch. 23

It was almost lunchtime, and I was starting to worry that Hanna wasn't back yet. It bothered me that my phone was right where I'd left it, and I didn't know if she forgot it or she'd left it behind intentionally. Partially to keep my mind off Hanna, and partially because I had work to do, I'd shoved the first of the four cars I'd retrieved from Newport into the shop. The Impala was a mess, with only the two rear wheels, trunk lid, and rear bumper of any value. The rear doors were in okay shape, but we had plenty of Impala doors in stock already, so I wasn't going to bother with them, especially since they had more than a few dings.

I heard the distinctive growl of an air-cooled Volkswagen and sighed with relief. Hanna parked her car by Patrick's truck and shuffled her way across the yard. I watched a moment and then placed the impact wrench aside. Something wasn't right with the way she was walking.

"See anything?" I called as I began to angle toward her.

"No," she replied, never slowing.

Something was wrong with her voice, too. "Hanna?"

She continued walking toward my trailer, not looking at me, her head hanging low. As I got closer, I saw the discoloration on her face, and I increased my pace. I caught up with her just as she stepped into my trailer.

"My God! What happened to you?" I asked, as I took her arm and turned her to face me.

"Carl," she murmured.

"Carl! He did this to you?" She nodded slowly. "How? We need to get you to a doctor!" I said as I pulled on her arm, trying to lead her out the door.

She shook her head as she pulled her arm away. "No. I'll be okay."

"Where did you see Carl? How'd this happen?"

She swallowed hard and kept her eyes down. "I called him. I drove into town, bought a phone, and I thought," she paused and sniffed, "I thought maybe I could find out where he was staying, and then I could let you know, but he's not staying in Bayport. I think he was in Eugene. He told me to meet him in Mapleton. I was going to call you as soon as I knew where he was, but he took my phone. He wanted me to go back to Eugene with him, but I was afraid. I tried to take Garrett and run, but before I could get away, he broke out my car window and then beat me. He sent me back to you, as a warning, to show you what they're capable of."

"That motherfucker! I'll fucking kill him!"

"Garrett is sick, Rand. He's got a bad cough, and he's wheezing, and Carl won't do anything about it. I had to try, Rand... I had to!"

I forced my voice to be calm even though I was raging in inside. "You took a hell of a chance. Why'd you do that? Why didn't you tell me that was what you were going to do?"

"Because I had to see Garrett, and I thought, maybe, I don't know, that I could help you somehow. I knew Carl would be suspicious, and he was. He ran me around, making sure I wasn't followed before he showed up."

"Where is he? Is he still in Mapleton?"

She shook her head. "No. I think he went back to Eugene." She placed her hand on my arm. "He wants to meet. He said there's a park at the south end of the bridge and for you to meet him there alone, tonight, at nine o'clock. He said to tell you if the Riders don't back off, I'll never see Garrett again."

I nodded slowly. "There's a parking lot there. That must be what he's talking about." I smiled, but there was no humor in it. "I'm looking forward to it."

"Don't go. I'm sure it's a trap."

"Probably, but maybe this'll give us a chance to find out what their game is. I'll let Doug know."

"He said for you come alone."

"And you think he'll be there alone?"

"No."

"Neither do I... besides, I don't speak for the BRMC, Doug does." I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed. I placed the call on speaker so Hanna could hear. She'd paid a hell of a price, but maybe she'd gotten us a break.

"Hey, Rand, what's up?" Doug's voice came from the phone.

"We may have caught a break on this Orca thing."

"How so?"

"Hanna met with Carl. He wants to meet in the parking lot just south of the Siuslaw River bridge."

"How the hell did she manage that?"

"It wasn't planned. She went to him to try to get Garrett back."

Doug was quiet for a long moment. "Is she there?"

I snorted softly. "She's listening, and I know what you're thinking. It may be a trap, but I don't think she's trying to set us up." He didn't say anything. "He beat the shit out of her, Doug."

He was quiet for another long moment. "Got it. Take care of her," Doug said before he hung up.

"He doesn't trust me."

"Maybe, but that's only because he hasn't seen you." I took her chin and gently turned her face. "Jesus, he really did a number on you. What were you thinking going to see that asshole alone?"

Her gaze dropped to the floor. "I wasn't, I guess."

I tipped her head down and kissed her on top. I should be upset with her, risking herself like she did, but she looked so miserable, and I could only guess how worried she must be about Garrett after Carl told her he was sick. This whole situation was fucked up, and while the BRMC flailed around reacting to the Orcas, she'd done something proactive, and maybe now we could get off defense and onto offense.

"Next time, let's talk before you go off on your own, okay?" She nodded, and I tipped her head down for another kiss on top. "Wait here while I get a wet cloth and some Tylenol."

I rolled into the parking lot overlooking the Siuslaw River only minutes before nine, seven of my brothers at my back. Doug and Tim followed me into the parking lot in Tim's Jeep, with Vince arriving last. He blocked the entrance with his Silverado to ensure we weren't disturbed, while the rest of my brothers spread out behind me, but far enough back to not be an immediate threat. I stepped off my bike as Doug and Tim exited their vehicle.

"I said come alone," Carl sneered as the three of us stopped two-dozen paces away from Carl and the fifteen men backing him up.

Tim, Doug, and I made sure we weren't standing between Vince and Carl, giving Vince a clear line of sight. "Seems I'm not the only one who can't follow instructions."

Carl studied the situation a moment. "Send them away and we'll talk."

"I'm here, you're here," I said, holding my arms out to my sides to show I had no weapon, at least not in my hand. "Come over here and let's talk."

Carl wiped his mouth, clearly hesitant, but then approached. "Did you like my present?" he sneered.

I seethed but kept my temper in check. Dying in a hail of gunfire wouldn't do Hanna, or the Riders, any good. "Why don't we settle that issue between the two of us?"

"Why don't you give up? You know it's only a matter of time before we push you out. How many more people have to be hurt? You've had two members of your club die in the last month, and then there's what happened to Hanna." He tsked. "Such a shame."

"One. You're not a very good shot. Roger is still alive. As far as Hanna, only cowards like you beat up women." Carl tensed, and I smiled. Apparently Carl had thin skin. I could use that. "I'm actually surprised she didn't kick your ass. Probably would have except you took the cheap shot."

I smiled at Carl as his face clouded with fury. "I have a deal for you. This is a one-time offer. You run the race this time, we take fifty percent of your cut, and we let you leave town. Nobody else has to get hurt. You just walk away."

I moved slightly aside as Doug stepped up beside me, Tim still holding back. "I'm Doug Meyer, President of the BRMC. This thing with Hanna is between you and Rand, but if you want to talk club business, you talk to me."

"Fine. You heard my offer."

"I did. Then what?"

"Then it's none of your business."

Doug nodded as he pretended to think about it. "I have a better idea. Why don't you go fuck yourself? Or, better, have one of your butt buddies over there do it for you. You'd probably enjoy it because only pussies slap women around, and we both know what pussies are for."

I hadn't expected Doug to say that and I couldn't stop my snicker. He must have picked up on Carl's sensitivity to being mocked as well.

Carl started to reach under his coat when a red dot hit him in eyes, then dropped to his chest. He slowly brought his hand from under his coat and held it out so Vince could see it was empty.

"What's the matter, big man? I thought you wanted to go," Doug sneered.

"You talk a good game when someone has a gun on me," Carl snarled in return.

I raised my hand and the dot went away. "Fine. You wanted to see me alone. You and me, at the river. Everyone else leaves. You game?"

"I haven't got the time to waste fucking you up."

I forced a laugh as I shrugged out of my jacket and placed it over my bike. I unclipped my holster and adding it to the pile, and then I held my hands out and slowly turned so Carl could see I wasn't unarmed.

"Come on, Carl," I said loudly enough for everyone to hear. "Are we going to dance or not? You want to send me a message, here's your chance. If you can take me out, that's ten percent of the BRMC out of the fight. None of the Riders will interfere... or is beating the shit out a defenseless woman the best you got?"

Carl licked his lips. Hanna had him totally pegged. He talked a big game, but when it came time to back up his mouth, he turned into a big pussy. "Not now," he said loudly. "This is too public."

"Fine. Name your place and let's go get it on." I sneered at him when he hesitated. "What's the matter? Afraid your dick isn't as big as you say it is?" I took a quick, aggressive, half-step toward him and he flinched back. "Yeah... that's what I thought. Doug's right. You're just a pussy who can only run his mouth."

Carl licked his lips again, then smiled. "No. I don't think so. Kicking your ass is too easy. I'm going to take Hanna away from you, then we'll both know who has the bigger dick."

I nodded. "You do that, but hear this. I'm going to kill you, you motherfucker, but if you touch Hanna again, I'll cut your dick off and fuck you with it before I do," I said so only Carl and Doug could hear me.

"You can't win. Not against me. I have resources at my disposal you can't imagine."

"You better go get them, then, because we're not going down without a fight," Doug growled.

I clipped my holster back into my pants, pulled on my riding jacket, and jerked my helmet over my head. "You've got my number anytime you think you're ready to try to take Hanna from me," I growled before I thumbed my bike to life, kicked it into gear, and then circled around Carl, as the rest of the Riders' mounts barked to life.

"That's a hell of a risk you took," Patrick said, his chair creaking softly.

"Nah," I countered as I took another sip of his beer. "You haven't seen Vince shoot. That guy..." I shook my head admiringly.

Vince was by far the best shot in the BRMC, or maybe in Oregon. An avid small arms collector, he bought, sold, and restored antique weapons. He had several trophies on his shelf from shooting competitions and he could carve the ten ring out of a target with a pistol at twenty-five feet as fast as he could pull the trigger. At twenty-five yards he could make a fist size group the same way. I'd once lost a case of beer to him when he put eight out of ten shots on a sixteen-inch steel target at two hundred yards with his Glock 26 pistol. In hindsight, I wasn't sure he didn't miss the two he did just to let me think I might win. Not learning my lesson, I'd lost another case to him when I watched him walk a Solo cup up an embankment, the red container never still until it crested the ridge. After that I refused to take his bets anymore.

Patrick continued rocking slowly. It was a beautiful night, clear and cool with a bright moon that made the hulks of cars into sculptures of light and shadow. Patrick and I spent a lot of time just like we were now, the house lights off, Patrick slowly rocking while I sat on the steps with my back against one of the posts supporting the porch roof. In the last two weeks, as the weather continued to warm and the rain had started drying up, Hanna began joining us, sitting snuggled in close to my side.

I wished she were here now. I'd asked Patrick to keep an eye on her while the BRMC and I dealt with the Orcas. When I'd returned, I'd found her sleeping off her aches and pains on the couch, so I hadn't bothered her.

"You just need to be careful," he said after a moment.

"That's why I had my brothers with me."

"Just the same."

"Yes, Dad," I said then chuckled. "Has anyone told you that you worry too much?"

Patrick chuckled, too. "Not since last week, but you don't live as long as I have by being stupid."

"Did you hear that?" I asked softly, staring into the darkness.

"Hear what?"

I held up my hand for silence, listening intently a moment, before I decided it was nothing. "Nothing, I guess. I could have sworn I heard something, though. Like something fell over." I shrugged. "It was probably nothing."

"You want another beer?" he asked as he rose. "One more for me then I'm done."

I drained the last of my bottle. "Sure, thanks," I said as I handed the bottle up to him.

He stepped inside, closing the door slowly, and then returned with two more, handing one down to me before returning to his chair. "You going to let Hanna sleep here tonight?"

"Yeah, if you don't mind. After the day she's had, I don't want to wake her up."

"Mind? Hell, I'm taking a picture to prove she slept with me, otherwise nobody will believe me."

I snickered then went silent as movement caught my eye. I'd assumed whatever made the noise was a raccoon, or something similar, but whatever I saw moving was no varmint. "Go inside," I whispered, staring into the darkness. I'd only caught a glimpse of movement before I lost the shape in the shadows, and I was waiting to try to pick up the silhouette again. "Tell me you're tired and going to bed or something, then go inside."

"What?" he whispered in return.

"I saw someone moving in the yard."

He rocked a moment longer. "I think I'm going to turn in," he said in his normal voice.

"Okay. I'm right behind you," I replied, rising to my feet to follow.

"There's at least one man out there," I whispered the moment the door shut behind me.

"It's probably vandals," Patrick said as he picked up his shotgun.

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to try to get behind him."

"Take the shotgun," he said, holding it out to me.

"No. You keep it. I need you to protect Hanna. There may be more than one. If I don't see anybody, I'll yell before I open the door. If anyone comes through the door without yelling, it isn't me, so you kill them."

He nodded and I heard the safety snap off as Patrick took up station in front of the couch where Hanna was sleeping, as good as place as any to cover both the front and rear door.

"Don't you forget to yell," he hissed as I moved into the kitchen.

"Believe me, I won't."

I heard him waking Hanna up as I crept into the kitchen and silently opened the rear door before I stepped out onto the small rear porch. The house and warehouse backed up to the fence, and Patrick kept his lot tidy, so there was no place to hide. I didn't have my weapon with me, so I was going to have to improvise. As much as I'd like to have my pistol, with its single door, I didn't want to risk entering my trailer and getting trapped inside. If the men were armed, it'd be like shooting fish in a barrel.

I hurried the 150 feet between Patrick's house and the warehouse and shop, thankful the security light was on the shop side of the large building. I entered the warehouse through the side door, walking quickly in the darkness to the attached shop. Having lived most of my life here, I knew the shop and warehouse like the inside of my trailer, and I moved with ease. In the shop, I quietly opened the third drawer from the top and, after a bit of feeling around, pulled out the 36-inch, half-inch drive, breaker bar. Made from solid steel, the bar would be a devastating weapon.

I retraced my steps and exited the shop through the warehouse again, but instead of returning to Patrick's house, I squeezed between the back of the warehouse and the fence, and came up behind my trailer, the bar out and at the ready. Seeing no one, I continued along the fence, crouching low, until I ran of shadow. Squatting in the darkness, I carefully watched for movement, but after seeing nothing, I dashed across one of the many hard packed dirt roads that allowed us access to the boneyard, the part of the yard where forlorn cars waited to be picked over by part scavengers until they went into the crusher.

I knew all the hiding holes and shortcuts, and the moon provided me with enough light to move silently among the cars. Moving quickly, I circled around, coming up behind where I saw the man. As I approached, I saw two men crouching behind the last row of cars before entering the large open area that fronted the shop, the crusher, and Patrick's house.

I didn't know who they were, but they shouldn't be on the property, and because they were carrying weapons, there'd be no warning. I worked my way along, keeping out of sight, until I was crouching between the cars directly behind the closer of the two men. With another quick check of my surroundings, I lunged from my hiding place. The man heard me coming at the last moment, but it was too late. As the thug began to turn, I brought the bar down and around, swinging it as hard as I could, the tool making a sickening crunch as it contacted the man's skull. The goon went down with a soft thud. I ducked back between the cars, picking up the man's pistol as I did.

"Cage, what was that?" the second man hissed. "Cage?"

"Shhh..." I hissed in return.

The man said nothing else, mistaking me for Cage, as I'd hoped. Now the odds were a little more even. Keeping as low as possible, I backed away and began to work my way along to the second man. As I moved, I noticed motion to my left as three men moved across the lot in a crouch. It had taken me several minutes to get the bar and to circle around to come up behind the men, so they probably thought Patrick and I were settled in for the night.

My quarry was focused so intently on the other three men he never heard me step up behind him, and with another hard swing of my bar, he joined his friend in the afterlife. I crouched, picked up the man's pistol, and put it silently on the LeSabre's fender, along with my wrench.

The two men I'd killed were obviously there to protect the rear of the attackers, and I took the man's position. I drew a bead on the men but didn't pull the trigger. I wasn't Vince and if I missed, which was likely in the dark and at this distance, I'd be shooting into the house. I held my fire, not wanting to risk hitting Patrick or Hanna. I knew that Patrick, despite his kind voice, was a tough old shit. I'd wait until the men were running and then I'd give them another surprise.

As I watched, one of the men signaled for a man to go around back while the other two crept up to the front door. I shifted my aim to the man going to the rear of the house. There was much less risk of hitting Patrick or Hanna targeting the man there, but I still didn't fire, not confident in my ability at this distance, and I didn't want to alert the men I was waiting on them.

As I watched, one of the men crept onto the porch, a weapon in his hand, and slowly reached for the door. Just as he began to enter Patrick's house, the night was split with the roar of shotgun. The man stumbled back and went down hard. There was the briefest of pauses, then the gun roared again an instant before the man at the rear of the house sprinted around the corner, running hard.