“Fuckin' bitch!” Deuce straddled her body, lifted his fist, and drove it into her face. Betsey both felt and heard her nose break as her head shot to the side. White noise roared in her ears, and the coppery taste of blood filled her mouth.

  Fight back, her brain screamed. Fight him! Get him off you! But her arms weren’t listening to her commands. Deuce reared back and hit her again. He ripped the front of her dress to the waist, exposing her plain white bra. No! She struggled, but her body wouldn’t obey.

  “Goddamn cunt. Think you’re too good for me, doncha? Fuckin’ bitch got her nose up in the air all the time. You ain’t nothin’ special. You’re a fuckin’ cunt only good for one thing.”

  He opened his pocket knife and cut open the thick material, freeing Betsey’s breasts. This isn’t happening. Betsey cried out, but only a gurgle came from her bloody mouth. Please, God, no! Deuce pulled up her skirt, and her hips burned where he tore her panties from her body. She tried to close her legs tight, but he forced them open. No, no, no, no! Somebody, help me! He pulled the gun from his front, opened his jeans, and jerked them down. Then he spit in his hand and fisted his growing cock. “I been waitin’ for this moment a long fuckin’ time.”

  “Betsey, what’s takin’ you so long?” Moses came out the back door of the diner and froze. “What the hell are you doin’?”

  “Fuck!” Deuce exploded in a panic and jerked the gun up. The sharp crack of the hammer coming down echoed through the wooded area. Moses grunted once and fell.

  “Oh my God, was that a gunshot?” The panicked shout came from the other side of the diner. A young couple appeared around the corner, and Deuce fired in their direction. They screamed and ran into the parking lot. “Oh shit, he’s got a gun! Someone call the cops!”

  Betsey could barely see Deuce’s face with her swelling eyes, but she could sense the frustration radiating from him in waves. He cursed as he climbed off her limp body and forced his hard dick in his pants. She knew he only stopped because it was just a matter of minutes before the police would be after him. He stood over her and pointed a finger at her face. “This ain’t over, bitch. I’m comin’ back for you.”

  Betsey lay there until the loud rev of his bike faded into the distance. Pain finally hit her, and her body burned with it. Carefully, she rolled to her side and looked at Moses’s still form. Tears of grief for the older man filled her eyes and her nose throbbed. She clutched her ruined clothes to herself as she forced herself up. Her movements were stiff, but through sheer willpower, she got to her feet and staggered over to where the cook lay.

  “Moses?” Her throat clenched at the man’s name in hopes of any response, but the gaping wound in his chest squashed any chance he was still alive. Betsey wished she could collapse right there next to him, but she had to keep going. The diner was now empty of patrons, and the only phone was in the tiny office, which was locked. Thankfully, Moses had trusted Betsey to know where he hid the keys. Little by little, she stumbled her way in and sat in the wooden school chair near the card table that Moses used for a desk. She picked up the receiver of the boxy kitchen phone and painfully spun the dial to call the sheriff’s office. The phone rang and rang until someone answered.

  “Sheriff’s office,” a breathless young female voice came on the line. “This is Molly. What can I do for you?”

  Betsey licked at the dried blood that coated her lips. “This is Betsey over at Moses’s Diner, and we need help.”

  Molly squeaked, “I ain’t got no one here. All the deputies are out with the sheriff heading to the bikers’ place up on the bluff. Said there’s something bad happened up there, and they all need to go.”

  Betsey’s head swam. Brick. Lord have mercy, Brick! “Moses got shot. I’m sure he’s dead. I got… um… beat up, and I’m hurt bad. Ain’t no one there?”

  The phone speaker crackled as Molly spoke. “My daddy said I had to stay here and answer the phones. Oh, Lord in Heaven, did you just say Moses is dead?”

  Betsey teetered on the edge of the chair and had to catch herself from falling over. “Yes. Deuce Cahill shot him. I really need help. Can’t you get someone? Anyone?”

  “My daddy got mad at me last time I drove his car, ’cause I’m only thirteen and I ain’t supposed to do that yet, but he didn’t say nothin ’bout me helpin’ with emergencies. We got one squad car left out front. I’ll get the keys for it and come get you. Daddy said I’m supposed to radio him if there’s a problem, but Mama says sometimes it’s best to ask forgiveness instead ’a permission. You hang tight. I’m on the way.”

  Betsey heard the line click off and let the receiver drop back in its metal cradle. Grief struck her hard for her gentle boss still lying outside, but her thoughts moved quickly to what the young girl had said. Something was happening with the Dragon Runners, something bad, and Betsey had no way of finding out if it involved Brick. Visions of him lying in the open with a bleeding bullet hole in his chest haunted her. A cry of hysteria and sorrow burst from her mouth, and she let the tears fall, leaving clean tracks down her face. She allowed a few minutes of heartache and then pulled herself together enough to go outside. Still weeping, she took one of the picnic tarps Moses kept in the pantry and covered his body.

  “May the Lord bless you and keep you,” she whispered as she covered the man’s face.

  A blaring siren caught her ear. It got louder and louder as the patrol car made its way closer. Betsey saw the car jump the curb and take out two bushes as it came to the back of the diner. A figure cranked down the window, and a dark head of curly hair popped out.

  “Hey, I’m Molly. You Betsey? Holy smokes, is that Moses?”

  Betsey wiped under her eyes and stood. “Yeah, I’m Betsey.”

  “Damn… I mean dadgum, you look like you went a round or two with Muhammad Ali. What happened to your clothes?”

  Betsey looked down at her torn uniform and clutched the dirty fabric to hold it closed as best as she could. “Never mind my clothes. Can you take me to the hospital?”

  Molly became all business as Betsey opened the car door and settled into the front seat. “The one in Sylva is pretty far, and Dr. Swaim’s office is closed, but he’s got a new doctor started there a while back who might could see you for an emergency. I looked up his address in the White Pages and called him at home. He said he’d meet us at the Swaim office. He said he done got another call ’bout some hurt people. I bet it’s from the motorcycle thing.” She reached and grabbed something from the back seat. “I got my daddy’s laundry back here. I was supposed to take it over to the laundromat, but then he told me to stay put when they got the call ’bout the bikers. It ain’t gonna fit, but at least you won’t have to keep holding your bra together.”

  Betsey slipped on the oversized brown shirt that smelled faintly of Aqua Velva and sweat. “Thanks.”

  The girl grinned. “Ten-four, good buddy. We are rollin’.” She flipped on the siren and spun out with a spray of gravel. Only then did Betsey realize she’d never considered calling her parents.

  Nine

  Later that same night…

  The lights inside the diner shone like a beacon, but Brick got a bad vibe when he drove into the empty parking lot. No one was visible in the windows. No jukebox was playing. The silence was eerie. Brick pulled his bike around the back, and his headlight flashed across a tarp lying over something. Brick’s stomach plummeted at its shape.

  “Fuck, no.” Too much had already happened tonight. He’d lost his father and perhaps his club. He dismounted and leaned the bike on its stand. His feet were heavy as he approached the tarp-covered body. Not Betsey. Please, God, not Betsey. Brick forced his fear down, reached a shaky hand to the tarp, and pulled it down far enough to reveal Moses’s face. The dead man’s eyes were still open and starting to fog. Brick closed them with two fingers and put the tarp back. His head was full of mixed emotions. Relief the body wasn’t Betsey’s. Sorrow that Moses was dead. Worry that Betsey was missing. Anger at whoever shot this gentle man.

  A twig snapped, and Brick was on his feet in an instant. The only light behind the diner was the bare yellow bug bulb above the door. It did very little to pierce the dark. He didn’t have a gun or any weapon other than his pocketknife, but still he was prepared to fight whoever came around the corner of the building.

  “Brick? It’s Taz. I saw you go by the medical center and figured you were comin’ here. Cops got enough on their plate tonight, they didn’t take me in. I gotta go to the station tomorrow mornin’ though. Hey, I got news, man.”

  Taz’s tall form showed up in the dim light. “Damn. That’s Moses, isn’t it?”

  Brick nodded as he answered. “Yeah, it is. Where’s Betsey?”

  “She’s at the clinic with some kid. She’s okay, but her face is pretty messed up. Said Deuce punched her and shot Moses. Tambre is there now with them an’ Bear an’ Bugs. They’re gonna be fine. Doc Holbrook is patching up everyone and keeping Doc Swaim out of it. He says he’ll be cool with keepin’ everythin’ quiet. I don’t know whether to trust him or not, but we ain’t got a whole lotta choices. Every cop in Bryson City headed to the clubhouse. What’s the plan now?”

  Brick always thought anger was hot, but what bubbled up in his gut was beyond anger. This was beyond rage. This was an arctic fury that burned so cold it left blisters.

  “Deuce put his hands on Betsey? My Betsey?” He met the eyes of his friend, and for the first time in his life, he saw fear in them. Fear of him.

  “Fuck, Brick.”

  Brick stood up. There was a power in him. It flowed and seethed through his body. His hands tightened into fists that brought pain. He couldn’t go to Betsey like this. He would scare her off in a heartbeat. There was only one place he could take this berserker rage. “Where is he?” Brick didn’t recognize his own voice. The sound of it was low, sinister, and full of the promise of retribution.

  Taz backed away from his friend, and Brick saw him swallow. “I saw him a while ago, ridin’ east. I ’spect he went to his daddy’s house to get his stuff, probably the money we been lookin’ for, but I’d bet my eyeteeth he’ll make a run on the Tail. His people are in Tennessee, and that’s the only place he’s got left to go.”

  Brick mounted his bike. Taz followed. “What are you gonna do?”

  Brick grinned and watched Taz stumble back from the sight. “What do you think? I’m a goddamn Dragon Runner. The Dragon is awake and huntin’.”

  Ten

  Later that same night…

  Brick roared around another curve, inertia pulling hard. The other bike disappeared briefly as he rounded, then reappeared as they played chicken along the route. Driving at these speeds on the Tail was hard enough in the daytime. At night, with only the bike’s headlight to see by, it was lethal. Brick knew this would end in one of two ways. Either he or Deuce would be dead. Maybe both.

  Taz had followed him to Deuce’s place just in time to watch the asshole take off on his bike. The tops of the saddlebags barely contained the load in them, and several bulging backpacks were tied haphazardly to the backrest. Deuce spotted Brick and Taz as he revved his engine. He roared off, lifting a middle finger as he left. Brick followed. Now both bikes were running on the Tail, Deuce trying to get away and Brick determined he wouldn’t.

  They crossed over the state line, heading west. Parts of the road were named. Brick ticked them off as they chased. On Cooper’s Straight he saw Deuce’s bike weaving close as the man fought to keep it under control. Brick guessed the saddlebags and backpacks were full of money, and the extra weight was throwing off the bike’s balance. Deuce reached The Wall and skidded on the hard curve, leaving behind a smear of black on the asphalt. The sound of a laboring engine came through Brick's helmet as his bike protested the force of this hairpin turn as he took The Wall himself. He was gaining ground, Deuce’s red taillight getting closer. Brick heard a hard rev, and Deuce lurched forward, whipping through the series of back-and-forth twists at the Gravity Cavity. Brick followed, the wind lashing his face with sharp needles. Parson’s Curve came up, and Brick saw Deuce almost lose it again, nearly scraping his knee as he put it to the ground to fight the nearly one-eighty-degree bend. Brick laid his Harley into the turn and did the same move.

  The pull was dizzying, and Brick’s head throbbed with the rapid changes in pressure. He’d been riding this road all his life and had even ridden it at night. He knew it like the back of his hand, but this ride was different. The road was different. It was alive. She was alive. The twists became the hard ridges of her back, and the green of the trees illuminated by the headlight became her scales. The crags and rocks of the cliffs were her teeth. She was mad. Mad and hungry. Brick could feel it radiating from her mountain bones, and his vision turned red. The scream of the bikes were her cries of outrage as she demanded to be fed.

  They were coming up to the part of the Dragon called The Horns. More than one biker had paid the Dragon’s price here. Deuce took the first horn, laying out almost horizontal to take the potent curve. His back tire smoked as it spun out, but he made it through.

  It was the second Horn that finished him. The tire couldn’t take another screaming curve and gave way, the road shredding it into ribbons. The bike lay down and rolled; inertia took over and, with brute force, fired it over the side and into the arms of the waiting trees. Deuce went with it. Brick watched the man’s arms fly up and whip around as the laws of physics took control. The impact of the crash sent a sonic wave through his head, and he slowed to a stop.

  Pieces of machine and man lay scattered along the road. One saddlebag had burst open, revealing stacks of cash, and two of the torn-apart backpacks showed white plastic-wrapped blocks of cocaine. What was left of Deuce looked like it had been chewed up and spit out. Brick sensed the road calming, and the red in his eyes faded to the dark black night.

  The silence of the wooded area fell around Brick when he shut off his bike and removed his helmet. No crickets, cicadas, or any other night insects made any noise. Church quiet. The Dragon was content.

  A distant buzz hit Brick’s ears. The sound became louder as Taz drove up at a much slower speed than Deuce or Brick. The man dismounted and took off his full helmet.

  “Shit, man.” No other words were needed. “What do we do now?”

  Brick took a deep breath. Smells of green woods, burnt rubber, and blood hit his nostrils. “Load the money for the cartel on my bike. We’ll call this in when we get back to town. Leave the drugs for the cops to find. I got a delivery to make, and then I gotta see my girl. I’ve put her off too long already, and she needs me.”

  “That Molly kid said she’d take her home. She’s pretty banged up, but you know, Brick, she’s a strong one. She’ll pull through just fine.”

  Brick turned to his task. “I’m counting on it.”

  Eleven

  That same night…

  “You’d look really good as a redhead. My mama’s talkin’ about how blonde is the way to go, but I think red would be better for you. Not a lot of women can carry it off.”

  Betsey only half listened to the chatter of the vivacious Molly as the young girl got back behind the wheel and drove her to the parsonage. Taz had confirmed that Brick was fine but under tremendous pressure to handle the events of the night.

  “He’s carrying the club on his back right now, Betsey, an’ there’s a lot ridin’ on how he deals with all the shit that happened tonight. He said he’d be comin’ by to see you as soon as he could. Hope you’re okay with that, darlin’. If you ain’t figured it out by now, if you stick with him, you’ll share him with whatever’s left of the club.”

  Would that make her second in his life, the Dragon Runners being first? She had lived her life so far being second, third, or fourth. The needs and wants of her father came first and the rest of them got whatever scraps were left. Betsey had been dead last most of the time, and she was sick of it. She wanted someone who would love her and put her first for a change. Could Brick do that, or would the Dragon Runners take over completely? She was worried about the man she loved and what he was facing tonight, but she couldn’t help thinking about what all of this meant for their future.

  The painkillers were wearing off, and a dull ache settled in her face. Her nose had been set and was now taped in place. A huge white bandage wrapped around most of her head, and the swelling of her eyes was still significant enough that her vision blurred. Hopefully when her parents saw her condition, they would forget about her extreme lateness getting home and be concerned rather than angry. Maybe her dad would forget about collecting her tip money too.

  Molly kept talking. “Mama says I can start wearing makeup when I’m sixteen, but that’s so long from now. I wish she would let me at least wear mascara. Do you wear makeup?”

  “No, but I want to.”

  The church came into sight and the parsonage right behind it. No lights were on waiting for her, which was unusual. The station wagon was gone from its spot. Betsey’s pulse picked up. Something was not right, and she didn’t want her chaperone in any danger.

  “Um… thanks for the ride, Molly. I hope you don’t get grounded for too long for driving without a license.”

  The perky girl shrugged. “Ain’t no big deal. If I get the car back to the station quick enough, maybe I won’t get caught this time. Kinda dark, ain’t it? You sure you want me to leave you here? Don’t look like no one’s home.”

  “My dad is real particular about keeping lights on at night, that’s all. I better get inside. Thanks again.”

  Betsey got out and waved the girl off. She watched the red taillights disappear in the dark before turning back to the house. The loose screen door creaked as she opened it, and the sound grated on her already frayed nerves. “Hello? Dad? You still up?”

 

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