“Cruz. Payne’s going to give you to Cruz. You’d be his old lady, Tillie, and I know in my heart you wouldn’t make it to next year.” The blood drains from my face as I sway on my feet, she steadies me by gripping my forearms so I’m focused on her face. “You're going to do exactly as I say, okay?” She searches my face before nodding, making sure everything she’s saying is absorbing through my shock.
“Get on your bike, drive far enough into the desert until it’s undecided which way you could have gone and crash it, okay? Then, you need to hitch a ride to downtown Las Vegas, your trail can get lost there to buy you time. Get on a greyhound bus for a ticket to New York but pay with cash and tell the clerk that you're running from an abusive husband, they should keep that on the down low, hopefully. You really need a ticket for Los Angeles instead, you need to disappear. I want you to hide your face from any and all cameras, and dye your hair with the color I put in the bag once you get off your stop. Make sure your hoodie is pulled up.” She helps me put my helmet on because my hands are shaking too hard, this is happening too fast.
I’m not ready.
“Can’t you come with me-”
She’s already shaking her head and pulls me into another hug which I return this time because this is really goodbye. “No, I have to appear normal and hide you no matter what. Tillie, remember this address and repeat it over and over until it sticks. She’s the only safe place and I hope one day you’ll forgive me for not telling you. I have to make sure they can’t find you, it’s all I have left to give and I should have done this years ago.” She places a piece of paper in my hand and pulls down my visor, nodding towards the gates.
“Who-” My words are cut off once again, but this time at the sound of the rusty chained gate dragging open and Doris is gone by the time I look over, no doubt crawling back into Payne’s bed before he notices she was ever gone.
Not wasting another second, my bike roars to life, making me wince as I kick the stand up and rush through the now closing gate with a prospect turning a blind eye and locking the gates back up. Not everyone in the club is bad but it’s only a small handful to a full army. My heart races along with my engine the farther I make it away from the compound. It’s either crawl on my knees behind Cruz for the rest of my short miserable life or fly fucking free.
It’s simple, live or die.
I’m going to live but where the hell is Doris sending me?
* * *
I know a curve is coming up on the deserted road ahead of me just outside of the Mojave Desert and it’s the perfect spot to crash my bike. It’s far enough away from the Jokers and plenty of time to mislead them because once they find out I’m gone… a manhunt will begin. Cruz will never let me go free unless it’s on the river of the dead. It’s only a matter of time until he finds me, the Jokers have eyes and ears everywhere. This will at least buy me some time.
The hot desert sun is already beating on my back in waves, the wind just as restricting and it’s only been an hour since I left the compound. They're probably already getting up and doing the usual club business shit. My time is running out and I can’t stop clenching the handlebars because it’s hard to let go of something that actually had a good memory for me. My bike starts to lean with the curve straight ahead and I twist the throttle one last time for a bit of speed before releasing the gas.
This is going to hurt.
My hands slowly release the handlebars on the curve going just a little over thirty, my bike gliding with the road and it almost feels like I’m flying with my arms stretched out over my head just for a second. I reach back quickly and unstrap my duffle bag with one hand, hugging it to my chest just as the bike wobbles under me. My crotch rocket starts tipping to the side, my body moves with it until I’m pushing my feet off footrests and falling onto the asphalt with the bike crashing to the ground, skidding along the road, causing sparks to fly. I keep sliding along the road on my side in a momentum that makes me feel breathless, my body rolling and bouncing off the burning hot road with rocks digging into my back. My leather jacket and helmet offer some protection but my jacket is ripped to shreds and my helmet scratched to hell by the time I come to a stop.
I lay there, trying to catch my breath and take in the injuries to my body. My leg is burning and something hot drips down the side of my calf but other than that, I’m just real fucking dizzy. Sitting up with a grimace, I take my helmet off with a head shake and pant with each breath. I slide off my jacket mournfully and chuck it into the desert with my anger. Sitting there in the freaking middle of the road in the middle of nowhere, I pluck at my ripped skinny jeans without looking at my throbbing leg, feeling pity for myself. It takes me a minute but I eventually gather the courage to look over at my bike.
A whimper escapes my mouth as soon as I see my bike broken on the side of the road, pieces literally scattered across the ground. It’s a heap of metal, unrecognizable beside the stripes of purple that glint off the steel chrome. The Jokers will be able to tell it’s mine once it’s called in. A motorcycle crash will make it back to the club even this far out. They stick to their own kind and news travels fast. The Jokers practically run Las Vegas.
I’m really feeling that dull ache in my leg the moment I stand and it takes a lot not to look down as I start limping away from the wreckage in the opposite direction. The helmet means nothing to me now, tossing it into the pile of broken pieces seemed like a good idea.
I’ve been walking for what seems like an hour, sweat gathers at my hairline and the sun is blaring down on me at this point that it’s hard to tell in the distance if a car is heading my way or if it’s a fragment of my imagination. I’m praying it’s a car that is willing to take a passenger. Almost scared to look, debating if I should make a run for it in the desert because what if it’s Cruz? He would drag me back kicking and screaming from the underworld just to torture me himself.
I can’t help it, my body angles off the road onto the dry dirt but a rush of air expands from my lungs when I see it’s just a truck driver. Sticking my thumb out, I walk backwards and try to appear normal. As if I’d know what that looks like. The trucker honks his horn, it’s a guy which I can tell by the low ball cap and beard from my lower position from the ground, and he starts to slow down near me on the side of the road. Yeah, probably not the best idea to hitchhike with a stranger but what are my options? Besides this guy is probably a freaking daisy amongst a field of poison ivy. He leans over and opens the door with a friendly smile, warm brown eyes with crow’s feet at the corner.
“Hey, little lady, need a ride? Always wanted to say that.” He chuckles at his own little joke as I hide an eye roll before stepping up into the truck with a small jump and grabbing the oh shit bar to heave myself up onto the seat.
He isn’t a bad looking guy, pretty young for living on the road. A nice smile, friendly brown eyes that don’t frighten me, and doesn’t have an overbearing air about him. If I was a normal girl, I’d probably want to date a guy like him if I was looking for a normal, boring future. A family man, simple life. Too bad that’s not for someone like me.
Hiding a wince from the pain in my leg, I shuffle in the big seat until I’m somewhat comfortable. He waits for my answer, not even putting the truck into gear.
“Um yeah. You wouldn’t be heading to Las Vegas near the strip by chance?” I have to clear my throat a few times so my voice sounds not so scratchy from walking in the middle of the desert for God knows how long.
“Sure am! Want a water?” He asks, but is already leaning back for a bottle of water, his face is suddenly very close to my boobs as he tries to reach behind his seat.
He seems to notice this at the same time when he pauses and stares before shaking his head. He quickly sits back up in his seat, handing me the water and blushing a bright red.
Hmm... maybe this trucker isn’t one of the bad ones. He’s kind of cute in a lumberjack way even with the slight dad bod he has going on and the beard probably covering a baby face but it works for him.
“Thanks.” I turn away from him, his staring making me uncomfortable as if he’s looking for something in my gaze. I twist the cap off to chug the water with a moan because it feels so good going down my dry throat.
He clears his throat and starts the semi, finally heading south on the open road towards the city of sin. It’s funny, I think sin shouldn’t be defined in one place because everyone is a sinner in one form or another. I guess more are drawn to a city that is made for sinning and gives you an excuse to be bad where the secrets stay. Too bad that’s my life definition everyday.
“So, why Las Vegas? Did you have some car trouble, that's why you were on the side of the road?” He’s already nodding his head like that explains it and I’ll let him keep thinking that, guess we were doing the small talk.
I prop my elbow on the windowsill and stare outside to see the desert, that all looks the same, pass by in a blur.
