Soothing the Savage Beast

Evan didn't back off and I could see the rest of the Eagles stiffen, clearly ready to come to his aid. "It's okay, Evan," I said, trying to defuse the situation.

"Is he bothering you?"

I held his gaze. "A little," I finally admitted.

"Then it's not okay." He turned his attention back to the man. "You need to go sit your ass down and stop bothering her before there's trouble."

"Fuck you, asshole. You need to mind your own business."

"Hey!" Christine snapped. "Knock it off you two!"

The man glanced at Christine glaring at them from the middle of the bar. "You want to take this outside, you fucking pussy?" the man demanded.

When five guys stood up, the Eagles rose in response. Reggie began moving, hurrying to get between the two groups before the situation got out of hand.

"I think it's time for you to leave," Evan said as casually as I would say the sky is blue, but once again the implied threat was there.

"Or what, asshole? I shove my cock into pussies like you."

"Or you're going to get seriously fucked up."

Oh hell... I slipped off my seat and began backing up. Harken and Mike closed in between me and the developing situation as Craig took my arm and pulled me farther away since Reggie was paying no attention to what was going on right in front me, his hands full with the two groups that were preparing to square off on each other.

"I said knock it off, or I'll toss both your asses out!" Christine shouted as she began moving toward the two men.

"Oh yeah? Take your best shot, you pussy," the man sneered, ignoring Christine's warning.

Evan didn't rise to the bait as he stood calmly, his hands at his sides. There was a tense ten seconds when I thought maybe, just maybe, they were going to back off, but the man was feeling his oats, and liquor, and took a swing at Evan.

Evan ducked under the wild roundhouse and came in under the punch to drive a bone cracking right uppercut in the man's jaw. Even I could tell that one punch had put the man out on his feet, but then before I could relax, Evan grabbed the man by the back of the head with his right hand and drove his face hard into the bar with a sickening crunch. Blood exploded from the man's shattered nose and lips as he folded like a sack of potatoes.

That set off the two factions. Reggie was about to be overwhelmed when the sound of a shotgun being pumped stilled the entire bar. Christine was standing there with a shotgun she'd gotten from somewhere pointed straight at the downed man's buddies.

"Which of you assholes wants the first load?" Christine asked, her voice quiet but hard as diamonds, leaving no doubt somebody was little more than twitch away from being shot. Jenni was standing behind the bar with wide eyes, well away from the direction of the impending blast. Reggie, the Eagles, and everyone else backed away from the downed men's friends, clearing the line of fire, while Jolly stood in the door to the kitchen with a baseball bat in his hand.

I was hanging on Craigs arm, both hands gripping him tight, about to freak the hell out.

Evan smiled, slow and easy. "Like I told your man here," he said, his gaze locked on the men's friends while toeing the lump on the floor, "I think it's time for you to leave."

Reggie and the Eagles started hustling the men out the door, allowing two of them to scrape the man shaped lump off the floor while muttering promises of vile retribution. Christine's shotgun was pointed at the floor but still in her hands in silent warning.

Evan said nothing, casually watching the men drag their friend out. "You okay?" he asked me as the door closed behind the last of the men and Christine loaded the ejected shell back into the shotgun before it disappeared behind the bar.

I stepped out from behind Craig. "No, I'm not fucking okay!" I shouted, mad and terrified at the same time. "What the fuck is wrong with you people!" Evan waited, impassive, until I got my shit together. "I'm sorry," I said, breathing deep, still trying to gather my wits about me again. "Thank you. You too," I said turning to Mike, Harken, and Craig.

"Come on, let's get you some air. Jenni, tell Jolly that Andi is taking a breather."

"Yeah..." Jenni breathed. "I think I could use one too."

Taking my hand, he led me into the parking lot as the normal sounds of Gushers resumed, but at a much-subdued level. He tugged me to the right of the door and immediately swung a leg over his motorcycle before standing it upright.

"You ever ridden a bike before?"

I shook my head. "They scare me."

He thumbed the bike to life and hidden lights illuminated the ground around the machine. "Get on."

"Evan, I..." I begin.

"Get on."

"I don't have a helmet."

"Fuck the helmet! For Christ sake, live a little!" he barked, revving the engine.

I start to back away but changed my mind. Fuck it! I stepped up, swung a leg over, and tucked into his back. The moment I settled, he gunned the bike out of the parking lot. I could feel the bike's heavy throbbing through my legs and ass as the bike accelerated hard, the warm night air whipping my shoulder length dark hair into a cloud.

"Where are we going?" I shouted over the roar of the wind, afraid to release my death grip around his waist to wipe my hair out of my face.

"Nowhere!" Evan shouted back, twisting the throttle further open, causing the bike to lunge ahead with an even more throaty roar.

At first I was terrified and clung tightly to his back, but as we bellowed down the highway, the bike's three headlights peeling away the darkness, the fear became excitement like I'd never known. For the first time I understood the allure of a motorcycle. We rode for maybe an hour before we began to slow as he banged the bike down through the gears. We'd made so many twists and turns in the darkness I was hopelessly lost... but I didn't care. He tipped the bike down a narrow concrete drive that led into a small grove, the bike rolling to a gentle stop in front of a house hidden among the trees.

"What's this place?" I asked as the bike idled.

"My home."

The house was small but neat as a pin from what I could see in the light from the Indian's powerful headlamps, a giant, black Ford pickup sitting in the open carport. "Why'd you bring me here?" I asked, not afraid, but wary.

"I don't know. I guess all roads do lead home, eventually."

We sat for what seemed like a long time, the motorcycle idling in the darkness. "Are you going to invite me in?"

He snicked the bike into gear, turned the machine around, and then walked it backwards into the carport next to the Ford. He killed the engine.

"Are you sure you want to go in?"

"No," I admitted softly as my heart pounded in my chest.

"I won't hurt you," he said, sitting on the bike. I didn't know if he was waiting for me to change my mind, or some other reason, but after a moment, I stepped off.

"I know, but..."

"But what?"

"But... I can't figure you out."

"Not much to figure out."

He tilted the bike onto its stand and dismounted before I followed him into the kitchen. The house was a typical single man's pad. Through the tidy kitchen of black, stainless steel, granite, and honey colored oak, I could see comfortable looking brown leather furniture, hardwood floors, and a giant television mounted on the wall. His house was lived in but was much neater than most bachelors.

"Want a beer?" he asked as he opened the refrigerator and removed one, offering it to me. When I shook my head he twisted the top off and threw it on the counter before leaning into the cabinet for support. "Fuck..."

"What?"

"I don't know what I'm doing anymore."

"What do you mean?"

He took long pull on the beer and stared at me, his face both pensive and expressionless. I gazed back, determined to wait him out. "We used to be the good guys. Now... I'm not so sure." He sipped his beer and I could sense he was mulling over what he was going to say. I said nothing, letting him say what he needed to in his own time. "The Eagles aren't just a group of roughnecks riding motorcycles for fun," he began. "Yes, we're wildcatters for American Eagle, but we're more. An oil field is a rough place. Drugs. Guns. Theft. You name it. About ten years ago the Eagles were formed to... protect I guess you could say... things that needed protecting."

"You're a cop?" I asked, the disbelief clear in my voice.

"Hardly. We offer a protection service of sorts."

"Like the Mafia?"

"Yeah, kind of like that I guess, but the difference is, we don't come burn your shit down if you don't pay. We take care of our own out in the field. When someone gets out of line, we... explain it to them. A truck full of parts is worth a shit load of money. We can help make sure it arrives where it's supposed to with everything it left with. Equipment theft. Drugs. We--"

"So, if you're not like the cops, what are you? Vigilantes?"

"No," he said firmly but then paused as if thinking. "Yeah, I guess maybe we are, but not the way you mean. We only take jobs that someone asks us to do. We don't go around kicking the shit out of people for no reason. There has to be something serious going on before we get involved. The oil companies look the other way because we get results. Nearly every field has a group like us."

"And what happened the other night...?"

"Someone's been stealing equipment. We started poking around and found out who it was. They won't be doing it again."

A chill washed over me. "Did you kill them?"

"No, but we made it clear that they don't want us to visit them again."

Most of the discoloration I'd seen in his face a week ago had faded, but there were still faint shadows, reminders of what'd happened. "What did you do? You didn't just talk to them, that much was clear."

His lips twisted into an ugly smile. "Let's just say they're going to need some time to recuperate before they think about stealing shit again. And no, we had to do more than talk because they weren't interested in hearing what we had to say."

I stared at Evan. What they were doing was clearly illegal as hell, but, somehow, it didn't seem so bad. "Why didn't just turn them over to the cops?"

"Two reasons. One, as I said, we're a family, and family doesn't rat on family to the cops. We take care of our own... and two... there's no proof they're the ones doing it, but we know it was them all the same."

"How do you know?" I pressed.

"We just know, okay? I don't have to see someone's dick hanging out to know they're pissing on my head." In spite of myself, I snickered. "Look, we're not thugs, okay? We try to be sure. Sometimes you know what you know even if there's no proof."

"So what's bothering you?"

He sighed. "It just seems like... things are not so cut and dried anymore. Like... maybe I'm doing this because I like to kick the shit out of people. That asshole tonight... I enjoyed smashing his face in."

"Is that why you're doing it?"

"No. I don't think so. At least it didn't used to be."

"How'd you get mixed up in all of this?"

He straightened and led me deeper into the house, pausing at a side table in the family room where he picked up a framed photo and handed it to me. The photo was of a smiling woman with short dark hair and friendly eyes. There was no mistaking the family resemblance, though the woman in the photo had the same dark eyes I had instead of Evan's astonishing blue.

"My sister, Karen. She's about... she was about ten years older than me. A geologist. Worked for Elron. She was out sampling wells one day and got hit by a truck. Killed her. There's no proof who did it, but everyone knew. The driver was always high as a kite on drugs, and was a known user and dealer, but... by the time they found her he was clean, he wasn't supposed to be anywhere near where she was, and he'd reported that he hit a deer before they found her... so it was finally ruled an accident."

"When?" I whispered.

He held my gaze for a long moment. "About ten years ago."

"When the Eagles were formed?"

"Yeah. Just before."

"What happened to him?"

"He had... an accident."

"An accident?" I asked as I returned the photo to him.

"That's right," he said, his voice cold and firm. "An oil field is a dangerous place."

That chill passed over me again as I realized Evan could be a very dangerous man and was not someone to be trifled with. "When he had his... accident... did you feel better?"

"No, not really, but I sleep better at night knowing he won't be able to do it again." He stared at his sister a moment before putting the photo back on the table.

"You're sure it was him?" He nodded. "How? How can you be sure?"

"I just was. No deer carcass where he said he'd hit it. No witness to where he was when Karen was likely killed. Damage to the truck he drove. Known drug user and dealer who did a deal that same morning not far from where Karen was sampling even though he was supposed to be way the hell on the other side of the field." He held my gaze. "You tell me."

"The cops didn't know this?"

"Everything but the drug deal. The guy would talk to me, but he obviously wouldn't admit to buying drugs to a cop. They questioned the guy who hit her, but they had to let him go."

I nodded slowly. It was all circumstantial, but compelling, evidence. "After they let him go, that's when this guy had his accident?" He nodded once. I paused for a long moment as I considered. "You know what I think? I think the very fact that you're worried about it means you haven't crossed the line. At least not yet."

"And how will I know when I do... when we do?"

"I think you'll know. You may all know, but I think you, at least, will know."

He stared into my face as if reading my thoughts. "I hope you're right."

I stared back, seeing Evan in an entirely different light. Yes, he was most certainly a bad ass, technically he was probably a criminal, and possibly a murderer, but he also seemed to be a man of principle. He was trying to do the right thing, doing a dirty job that needed to be done. All the Eagles were.

"What's up with Jenni?" I asked, the question popping out before I had a chance to stop it.

"Nothing, why?"

"Didn't she take you to her place last week?"

"She brought me here."

"Did you fuck her?" I didn't know why I was asking the questions or even cared, but I couldn't stop myself.

"Does it matter?"

"No," I said, but it did.

He held my gaze a moment before answering. "Yeah, I fucked her. I needed a quick fuck to take the edge off, she was available, and--"

I squinted as anger began to rise inside me. "Yeah, well, you can just--" I began.

"--and I didn't want to use you like that," he continued, talking over me, his words stopping me cold.

"What? What does that mean?"

"It means you calm me, Andi. You quieten my demons, and I didn't want to use you that way."

"I'm not sure how to take that," I said, my voice cool.

He again offered his enigmatic smile, the one that could mean anything from he was teasing me, he was in on a joke that I wasn't, or that he was preparing to insult me with a zinger. "It means that when I do have you, I don't want it be just because I need a hole to stick my cock into."

"Is that what Jenni is... was?"

He was quiet for a long moment. "Yes."

I stood there, trying to decide if I was pissed off over his attitude and his certainty that I was going to sleep with him, or flattered that he wanted me as more than just a hole... so I decide on both. "You are such a prick!" I snapped.

He shrugged. "I am what I am."

"How many times?" I demanded.

He again held my gaze. "What does it matter? Why do you care?"

"I don't!"

"Then why'd you ask the question?"

Why did I? I asked myself. "Forget it!"

"When I need her."

"When you need a hole to fuck, you mean?" I demanded, my voice harsh. "You're using her!"

"That's right, just like she's using me."

"You're just like every other man! You don't give a shit about women! We're nothing but a place for you to stick your cock!"

"Maybe... but here you stand," he growled, his voice soft but his tone hard. "You got on the back of a bike with a man you hardly know. You came into his house. Maybe you like pricks. In fact, maybe you're looking for someone just like me, someone to give you a taste of the wild side. Maybe you aren't the miss goody two-shoes you act like you are. Maybe you like men like me, like that conductor guy. I think you're--"

It happened so fast I didn't remember raising my hand, his cutting words opening the box I'd shoved all the rage into over the way I'd been treated by Geno, the OKCP president, and the fact that not one woman had the guts to corroborate my accusation. I slapped him hard across the cheek, rocking his head back and leaving my hand hot and stinging from the impact. I stood there, mouth open in shock, unable to believe what I'd done.

He slowly ran his tongue along the corner of his mouth where I'd slapped him. "It feels good to let the anger, the rage pour out of you, doesn't it?" he rumbled.

"No," I said, burning in shame.

He leaned in closer. "Admit it. It felt good to slap me," he sneered, his tone mocking.

"No! I'm sorry for--"

"Like hell you are!" he snarled. "I saw the look in your eyes, on your face. Admit it! That slap felt good!"

"No! I--"

"Bullshit! You needed it! Admit it!"

"No!"

"You want to hit me again, don't you?" he challenged.

"No! I--"

"Do it!" he snarled as he shoved me. Not hard enough to hurt me or to cause me to fall, but hard enough that I had to take a step back to catch my balance. "Fucking do it!"

Again my hand flashed out, slapping him as hard as I could on his already reddening cheek, my hand striking his face with a loud clap of flesh on flesh. My hand stinging, his head again rocked back before he turned to glare at me, his eyes and face hard. He said nothing as he held my gaze, silently daring me to hit him again. I drew my hand back, the rage I had bottled up inside me pouring from me and blotting out rational thought. I wanted to hurt him, and continue hurting him, for how I'd been treated.

Before I could slap him again, he seized my wrist, holding it in his vice like grip. "Don't," he rumbled, his eyes hard.

The single word ripped away the red haze of fury that had come over me. I stood panting, shocked and ashamed that I was taking out my anger over what had happened on Evan. As I relaxed, he released my wrist. I could feel the tears coming as I opened my mouth to beg his forgiveness.

"Now," he began, his voice softer than I'd heard it before. "Now you see why I wonder why I'm doing this. It feels good to fight, to let go of the anger, doesn't it? That's why I need you. Before I met you, if a woman had hit me like that, I'd have slapped her right through that wall. I need you to keep me on the path, to not let the anger take me, to not let me become the very thing I hate."

I stood there all but quivering, my emotions a heady mix of sorrow and anger as his words cut me open. He was right. It had felt good to hit him, and I'd wanted to go on hitting him. Though he'd done nothing to me, he'd become the focal point for all my anger and frustrations.

I'd never considered myself an especially virtuous person, but growing up on a corn farm in Iowa hadn't presented a wealth of opportunity for getting into trouble, and UIMS wasn't exactly known for its party atmosphere. My whole life I'd done what was expected, towed the line, made good grades, and stayed out of trouble. It hadn't mattered. Even though I'd done nothing wrong, I'd still been punted out of a dream job and been reduced to playing in a honkey-tonk. It hadn't stopped there. Tonight I'd become embroiled in another fucking mess. Even though I felt like I'd done nothing wrong, a man had his face smashed in right in front of me, while someone else pulled a shotgun, all because of me.