The Lonely Road (Blue Lagoon Brotherhood MC)

  This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons--living or dead--is entirely coincidental

  The Lonely Road copyright @ 2014 by Miranda Banks. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews.

  THE LONELY ROAD

  Jason accelerated and let the wind in his hair and the rumble of the powerful Harley beneath him chase away his disturbing thoughts. He had just left a meeting in one of the rougher parts of the city and was heading into the more heavily-trafficked, downtown portion of the city.

  Over the past two weeks, the police had traced a bunch of overdoses to a new drug they were calling the Plague, and they were blaming his club for bringing it into the city. Although the Blue Lagoon Brotherhood imported a few things, drugs were not one of them. He suspected the rival biker gang, the Vipers, since he first heard about the new drug.

  Jason was doing his own investigation, determined to clear his club's name, but so far had discovered nothing. Luckily, he was meeting one of his informants later at a bar to hear a tip he had for him.

  Weaving through traffic, his mood lightened when he caught sight of a familiar SUV idling at a red light. Jason used the term familiar lightly, because, although he had never actually spoken to the brunette beauty inside, he never failed to get her attention and some sort of reaction from her.

  When the light turned green, Jason performed some creative, yet illegal, maneuvers and caught up to her. He glanced over, taking in her dark hair tied into a fancy knot at the nape of her neck and her creamy skin, revealed by a v-neck shirt in a silky-looking material. She was on her phone, as usual, talking a mile a minute and not paying him a bit of attention.

  He'd change that.

  His Harley screamed as he opened it up, flossing between the car in front of him and her front bumper, his tire inches from hitting her. She laid on the horn, and when he looked back at her, a devilish grin on his face, she gave him the finger. Jason laughed to himself, tires squealing as he left her behind. As much as he enjoyed these games with her, he had to prepare for his meeting.

  ***

  "Asshole!" Charlie laid on the horn and screamed at the back of the motorcyclist who had rudely cut her off and narrowly avoided clipping her bumper. “Are you trying to get yourself killed? Learn how to drive!” Heart racing with both fear and anger, she managed to convince her hand to release its death grip on the steering wheel and give the guy the finger when the cheeky biker had the balls to turn around and grin at her.

  Charlie recognized the guy immediately, which didn't help her mood. She always seemed to be caught at the same red light with him. After the first time, when he'd scared her by revving the engine, he took every opportunity to provoke a reaction from her. Her favorite reaction was yelling obscenities at him from behind her closed windows. One day, she might actually work up the nerve to confront him.

  She had no idea why anyone would ever want to ride one of those death traps. She had a theory that only three types of men owned bikes: young kids that thought they were invincible and needed two wheels to prove it, men who had never grown up, and men who were going through a mid-life crisis.

  Her leather wearing tormentor looked young and fit enough to belong in the second group, but behind what the sunglasses, leather, and helmet hid, he could easily fit into the third. Regardless, she was determined to ignore him next time.

  Charlie liked having four solid pieces of metal protect her on the road. Her big SUV was safe and reliable. Plus, people could always see it coming, unlike the motorcycles that could slip into a driver’s blind spot, unnoticed until it was too late.

  "Hello? Are you still there?" Charlie was jolted back to the present by the voice on the phone. She had completely forgotten about her call. "Yes, I'm still here. Sorry. I had to avoid hitting a motorcycle that cut me off. What time do you want to meet?" She listened intently, memorizing the time and address. "I'll see you soon."

  ***

  Three hours later, Charlie sat by herself in a corner table at the Blue Lagoon, a blue collar bar that had seen better days and would benefit from a serious cleaning job. She nursed her gin and tonic and kicked herself for not bringing Kay, her best friend and sometimes partner in crime, along with her. Not only would she have made waiting for her anonymous tipster fun, she would have been a welcome buffer from all the men leering and hitting on her.

  Charlie knew she was attractive, but she didn't lord it over men. Sure, she knew how to use her looks to get information, but her skinny jeans, tank top and leather boots were just another tool to be used for the greater good. She considered this mission to be her most important.

  A deadly batch of drugs had been shipped into the city, and as a reporter, it was Charlie's job to dig up the whole story. She wanted to know who was behind it, and she wanted them stopped for good. Her younger brother, a confused kid who had become mixed up in the wrong crowd, had overdosed and died from the drug police were calling the Plague. To say this story was personal would be an understatement. Her grief and need for justice had turned her into an impulsive risk taker.

  Clear-headed Charlie would never walk into strange bars alone. However, grieving Charlie was desperate for answers and that made her do desperate things. Impatient now, she glanced around the bar again, wondering who and where her source was. Her gaze landed on a dangerous-looking man with stern features and ice blue eyes. She felt a twinge of recognition, but immediately dismissed it. There was no way she'd forget a muscular body like that. His strength was evident in the way his plain t-shirt and worn denim jeans molded around hints of muscle.

  A blush lit her face when he caught her staring, but when he gave her a devilish grin, Charlie nearly choked on her drink. It’s the motorcycle guy! Immediately, her shyness turned to anger. She stood, ready to march over and give him a piece of her mind. Her plans were cut short, however, when a young Hispanic man that looked to be in his twenties, slid in the booth across from her.

  His dark eyes registered his surprise, as he took in her outfit and the extra skin it showed. He recovered quickly though, and with a shrug, slid a folded piece of paper over to her. "Tell Sid we're even now," he mumbled before getting up and going to the bar.

  Charlie's excitement grew as she unfolded the paper. An address and time, eleven-thirty, was the only thing scribbled on the yellow paper. She tucked the note into her pocket, threw some money on the table, and left. If she hurried, she'd be able to get there early, find a hiding spot for her car, and get some new leads, maybe even pictures.

  Hitting the speed dial for her best friend, Charlie quickly recounted her night, as she plugged the address into her GPS. Kay argued with her about going out alone and was only slightly pacified by Charlie's promises to be safe. Before she hung up, Kay threatened to call the cops if she didn't hear anything from Charlie by one in the morning.

  After three more promises to be careful, Charlie hung up and headed down the highway, feeling giddy with excitement and just a little bit nervous. She didn't like that she was going in blind or that her source didn't give her the chance to ask any questions, but the promise of new leads and answers was proving to be irresistible. Some of her excitement wore off though, after an hour of interstate driving. When the GPS told her to exit, she was relieved. When it told her to turn down a dusty, two-lane road with some of the biggest potholes she'd ever seen, Charlie's enthusiasm faded co
mpletely, and her fear took root.

  The farther she drove down the bone-jarring road, the worse her idea seemed. She looked down at her phone to check the time, and in a split second, she felt her car lurch, heard something pop, and knew she had blown a tire.

  "This was a stupid idea," she mumbled to herself while pulling her limping car off the road. Not that she was worried about blocking traffic, it was just habit.

  "No problem," she chirped, forcing herself to be cheerful. "I'll just call a tow." That, however, was not to be. She was too far out in the desert, and she was out of range. Consequently, her phone was useless.

  Charlie considered hiking up the road a ways, just to see if she could get a signal, but the deserted road gave her the creeps, and she had no desire to be out in the desert at night. "Ok, so no phone and no buildings in sight. I'll just spend the night in my car and hike back to the road tomorrow. Maybe someone will come by before then." As if her words conjured him, a low rumble and single headlight pulled up beside her.

  "You've got to be kidding me!" It’s the guy from the bar! What is he doing out here? Suspicion made her wary as he pulled the bike in front and to the right of her SUV and slowly made his way toward her window.

  Her hand reached under the seat, and relief flowed through her body when she found the cold metal she had been searching for. Rolling down her window an inch, Charlie silently dared him to try something.

  "Need some help?" he asked. If he was surprised to see her, the biker covered it with an easy, if not smug smile.

  His tone made her grit her teeth, but she didn’t want to turn down free help. She knew that if she refused, he'd probably leaver her out here. "Sure. I have a flat. Tow truck can't make it for at least an hour," she said, choosing her words carefully. She didn't want him to know just how vulnerable she was. She figured that it was better for him to think someone was coming for her. It might deter him from trying something stupid.

  He nodded. "Do you have tools and a spare?"

  "Yeah. I'll get them out of the back." She forced her tone to be bright, as he walked behind her car and out of her line of sight. Charlie could feel his eyes on her as she walked. As soon as the tire is fixed, I’m heading to that meeting, staying long enough to get information, and getting the hell out, she thought.

  ***

  Jason watched as she popped the trunk and got out. He appreciated her natural curves that were so unlike the stick-thin girls that stayed at the club. Everything about her was natural, except for the red streaks mixed in her dark hair. She was carrying something in her hand, as she slowly approached him. He had to suppress a laugh when he saw what it was. "You carry bear mace in your car?"

  She gave him a pointed look. "You never know what kind of predators you'll run into in the desert. I like to be prepared."

  And I'm one of the most dangerous, he thought, suppressing a grim smile. He could tell that her instincts were good. He knew that there was a story behind the guarded look in her eyes and the way she stood just out of his reach, despite the fact she had accepted his help. He offered his hand and, to her credit, she didn't flinch. "I'm Jason," he said.

  She stared at his large paw for a minute, but her grip was firm. She looked him in the eye when she answered, further raising his opinion of her. "Charlotte,” she said, giving him her full name. “Thanks for the help."

  "No problem. What are you doing all the way out here? This place is pretty deserted." He kept his eyes on the task at hand, pumping the small jack under the heavy car. The small beam of his flashlight illuminated one bolt at a time, as he unscrewed them. It meant he couldn't see her face and watch for deception, but he thought that he might gain her trust.

  Her answer was glib, but it still made him wary, as she said, "Stargazing. What about you? Like you said, this place is pretty remote."

  Jason looked up at the overcast, moonless night and chuckled, despite his growing unease. He could feel her sharp gaze, as he took the tire off. "Looking at the scenery. It's a nice night for a ride." He should question her further, but he had to hurry and finish this tire change. He was missing the meeting.

  She laughed, and he relaxed a little bit. The area they were in was completely flat with no natural features or trees of any kind. It seemed that they both had secrets.

  He wondered if she was a mule for the Vipers. It would explain her journey out here, but she didn't look like she needed the money. Her clothes were nice, her car a fairly new model. Jason got up and went to her trunk, the flat tire in hand. He checked the trunk for extra compartments while getting the spare, but didn't see any evidence pointing to her involvement. He thought, So why is she here? What was she doing at the bar, talking to Carlos? This stunning woman, with her pale skin and dark eyes is involved... somehow. I just have to figure it out.

  Jason mulled over the questions, as he tightened the first bolt. Low rumbling made him curse, and he worked faster, spinning the bolts in place. Motorcycle engines roared, and Jason knew he wasn't getting the tire on in time to get her out of there alive.

  He grabbed her arm and ran for his bike. Thankfully, she didn't fight him much. He thought, So, she does know something if she’s willing to run with me. Jason threw his helmet at her, and she hesitated for the first time. "Get on!" he barked, throwing a leg over the seat and revving the engine. "If they catch us, we're dead." He saw fear flash across her face, followed by indecision.

  The unmistakable pop of gunfire was all the encouragement she needed. Charlie leapt on the back of his bike and wrapped her arms around him. She seemed to forget that minutes ago they were strangers and that she didn't trust him. Jason gritted his teeth, tamping down his desire, as he tried to not think about her flowery scent and the feel of her soft curves against his hard back.

  The bike's back tire fishtailed in the soft dirt, and the engine screamed when he revved the throttle. Within seconds, they were racing down the dirt road while a pack of bikers fired at them.

  Jason swerved, trying to avoid the hail of bullets. One grazed his arm, sending a trail of fire down to his fingertips. The pain made him jerk the handlebars, and he struggled for a second to right the bike. Fear curled in his belly, as gravity fought to throw them to the asphalt.

  He didn't have time to enjoy the feeling of her arms tightening around his stomach as the motorcycle righted itself. The main road was just ahead. If he could get in traffic, he could lose the club and get home. Then, he could call the Brothers for backup. Thankfully, he was able to weave in between a truck and a semi, as he merged onto the highway. The drivers didn't appreciate it and laid on the horn, but the gunfire faded, and that was all that mattered. Weaving in and out of the traffic, Jason took a convoluted route to throw off any tails.

  He finally made it to his one-story, brick house when he was convinced the bikers were no longer following them. He cut the engine in the driveway and got off, holding his hand out to help Charlie off the bike.

  She stared at his house, a dumbfounded look on her face. "I don't live here."

  Jason rolled his eyes and tried to lighten the mood. "I know. It's mine. Are you coming in?"

  She shook her head stubbornly. "Take me back to my car, so I can go home."

  "I don’t get a thank you― for saving your life? Or changing your tire? Just more demands?" He didn't move back to his bike, amused by the frustration on her face.

  "It wasn't me they had a problem with," she retorted. "It was you."

  She was perceptive and, for a moment, it made him nervous. He thought, Is she a cop? "How do you figure? Maybe they didn't like trespassers."

  "So, what were you doing there?"

  And persistent. "I could ask you the same question. The desert at night is no place for a lady traveling by herself."

  Charlie snorted. "I've been called a lot of things, but never a lady." She stared him down in a way that would have made the president of his club proud. "Take me back to my car."

  He shook his head. "It's not safe to go back. And your house
won't be either."

  "What makes you think that?" she asked, her voice wavering a little bit.

  Jason stared at her, debating on how much he should tell her. If she was a cop, she would already know, but she could be testing him. He decided to be blunt and gauge her reaction. "Odds are, the guys that aren't scouring the city for us are going through your car. Do you know what they'll find?"

  "All of my personal information," she whispered, slapping a palm to her forehead.

  "Exactly. Until this gets cleared up, my place is the safest spot for you."

  "I have friends I can stay with," she protested.

  "Do you think guys that shot at us are gonna stay away from your friends? They'll probably look through your phone and scope out the people you talk with most." He saw her shiver and her fair skin turn white. Whether it was from fear, shock, or the adrenaline wearing off, he knew he had to get her inside and the bike put away― now.

  "Fine," she muttered, stomping toward the stairs. "But I have to let my friend know I'm ok. She'll be worried she hasn't heard from me yet."