man whom she promised never to forget? It didn’t make any difference. She had gone wrong. She had screwed up. She had screwed up six years ago, and she had royally screwed up tonight. His love for her was dead, and now it looked like soon she would be too.
Zed’s bike slowed, stopped, and went silent as he killed the engine. Christie raised her head and looked quickly around her, fearing the worst. Then she recognized where they had stopped. They were at the Ryswells’ main club house. That was the first good news of the night... maybe. They wouldn’t kill her here. They knew that the ATF was very aware of the clubhouse and the bar, which was open to the public.
To an unsuspecting civilian, The Ryswell Roadhouse looked like just another rather large biker bar with several storage buildings attached on the back. It was known for its wild bands, raucous behavior, and readily-available women, both professional and amateur. But Christie knew that the Roadhouse was more than that. The Ryswell Roadhouse was the hub of almost every club activity, legal or illegal.
As she got off the back of the bike, Zed turned her to face him. “Christie,” he said softly, “if things were different, I would put you back on the bike and we would head up into the mountains, to the cabin, face to face... and we would both be naked.” His face flickered between the softness she had once known and the hardness which he had shown her earlier in the desert. “...but too much has changed.”
Christie grabbed his head and pressed her lips frantically against his mouth, hoping to catch the Zed she loved before he disappeared once again beneath the tough exterior of the leader of the Ryswell Brothers. The softness of his lips and the way that he returned her kiss told her that she had fulfilled her hope. But it was a fleeting hope, and Zed quickly pushed her away, saying gruffly, “Like I said, too much has changed.”
He turned to two of the members who had been watching their exchange and said, “Bring her inside.” Zed then walked quickly toward the back door of the club.
The two men grabbed her roughly by the arms. One leaned close enough to her for her to smell his foul breath and whispered, “You’re alive for only two reasons, lady cop. One is that..” He thrust his hand roughly against the front of her crotch. “We ain’t gonna throw away something that good without sampling it first.”
They both laughed and then the foul-breathed man continued, “And the second is that Zed thinks he’s still in love with you.” They laughed again. “Once he figures out that you’re just another fuckin’ Federale, he will let us have you for a little fun and then we’ll ship you south.”
“Like he did to Gloria,” she said bitterly.
The other man grunted and said, “Before his time. But he’s learning what it takes to be the head of the Brothers.”
For some reason, Christie began crying. Her situation had not changed, but the relief that it had not been Zed who had disposed of the previous agents was almost overwhelming. Especially the knowledge that it had not been him who had sent Gloria into that hell of a Mexican brothel.
Zed’s voice suddenly interrupted her thoughts. “You two quit jacking around out here and get her inside. Or are you waiting for someone to fly over and take your fuckin’ picture?”
As they hustled her through the doorway, she turned to Zed and said softly, “The drones aren’t flying here tonight. They’re all way south in the desert where everyone else thought the buy was going to happen. I told them I knew where you—and the guns—would be. But they wouldn’t believe me.”
“So you went out on your own to get proof that you were right, didn’t you?” He leaned close and said in almost a whisper, “Having to always be right can cost you a lot. But you already know that, don’t you?”
Zed turned to a rather large man in a
Zed’s bike slowed, stopped, and went silent as he killed the engine. Christie raised her head and looked quickly around her, fearing the worst. Then she recognized where they had stopped. They were at the Ryswells’ main club house. That was the first good news of the night... maybe. They wouldn’t kill her here. They knew that the ATF was very aware of the clubhouse and the bar, which was open to the public.
To an unsuspecting civilian, The Ryswell Roadhouse looked like just another rather large biker bar with several storage buildings attached on the back. It was known for its wild bands, raucous behavior, and readily-available women, both professional and amateur. But Christie knew that the Roadhouse was more than that. The Ryswell Roadhouse was the hub of almost every club activity, legal or illegal.
As she got off the back of the bike, Zed turned her to face him. “Christie,” he said softly, “if things were different, I would put you back on the bike and we would head up into the mountains, to the cabin, face to face... and we would both be naked.” His face flickered between the softness she had once known and the hardness which he had shown her earlier in the desert. “...but too much has changed.”
Christie grabbed his head and pressed her lips frantically against his mouth, hoping to catch the Zed she loved before he disappeared once again beneath the tough exterior of the leader of the Ryswell Brothers. The softness of his lips and the way that he returned her kiss told her that she had fulfilled her hope. But it was a fleeting hope, and Zed quickly pushed her away, saying gruffly, “Like I said, too much has changed.”
He turned to two of the members who had been watching their exchange and said, “Bring her inside.” Zed then walked quickly toward the back door of the club.
The two men grabbed her roughly by the arms. One leaned close enough to her for her to smell his foul breath and whispered, “You’re alive for only two reasons, lady cop. One is that..” He thrust his hand roughly against the front of her crotch. “We ain’t gonna throw away something that good without sampling it first.”
They both laughed and then the foul-breathed man continued, “And the second is that Zed thinks he’s still in love with you.” They laughed again. “Once he figures out that you’re just another fuckin’ Federale, he will let us have you for a little fun and then we’ll ship you south.”
“Like he did to Gloria,” she said bitterly.
The other man grunted and said, “Before his time. But he’s learning what it takes to be the head of the Brothers.”
For some reason, Christie began crying. Her situation had not changed, but the relief that it had not been Zed who had disposed of the previous agents was almost overwhelming. Especially the knowledge that it had not been him who had sent Gloria into that hell of a Mexican brothel.
Zed’s voice suddenly interrupted her thoughts. “You two quit jacking around out here and get her inside. Or are you waiting for someone to fly over and take your fuckin’ picture?”
As they hustled her through the doorway, she turned to Zed and said softly, “The drones aren’t flying here tonight. They’re all way south in the desert where everyone else thought the buy was going to happen. I told them I knew where you—and the guns—would be. But they wouldn’t believe me.”
“So you went out on your own to get proof that you were right, didn’t you?” He leaned close and said in almost a whisper, “Having to always be right can cost you a lot. But you already know that, don’t you?”
Zed turned to a rather large man in a
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