Page 34 of StoryTeller's Tale

I feel a surge of protectiveness rise inside. She’s kept herself relatively unharmed. From now on, it’s down to me. While I hate what’s happening to the other women, I’m only one man, and I can only take care of one. I silently vow that whatever happens, she will get out of here and be able to go back to her life.

Once again, I sit on the hard ground, pulling Sheri down with me and folding her back into my arms. We stay like that as if neither of us want to break the spell, nor lose the comfort afforded by human touch. Eventually the door opens again, and Limey brings the girl back down and throws her into her cage. She collapses in a heap, folding into herself and weeping. If I had my gun on me, I’d have shot him dead. I will him to try opening this cage door. If he does, I’ll happily rip him limb from limb with my hands.

Time drags. I’m already bored. I don’t know how these ladies can stand it. Still held in the safety of my arms, Sheri is dozing. Something loosens inside at the trust she’s giving me, and for some reason, I nuzzle my lips to her hair.

“They’re bringing in transport. Looks like they’re getting ready to move the women.”

The voice in my ear brings me back to myself. I turn away from Sheri and mumble, “Going to plan or are they escalating the timetable because I’m here?”

“Hard to tell. But the result will be the same.”The connection clicks and then another voice comes on.

“ST. You been asked about the pickup for the guns?”

“Not yet,” I respond to my prez.

“Not sure I like that.”

Me neither, come to that. Unless Knuckles has another way of checking my story out, which I can’t believe he has.

“He could be playing with you. We’re thinking of ways of getting you out.”

Alive would be my hope. I didn’t survive this long to be killed like a pig in a slaughterhouse. Sure, my death might always have come at the hands of a rival club, but I’d rather go out with a gun in my hand.

Being caged doesn’t suit me.

“Is something wrong?” Turning, I see Sheri rubbing her bleary eyes. She looks slightly startled as if surprised she’s been asleep.

I tighten my hold on her briefly. “My brothers have everything in hand.” I’m not sure whether I’m reassuring her or myself.

She looks understandably dubious. “How do you know?”

Just in case the lack of that information is the thing that’s going to keep her safe, I shrug, and don’t confide that they can hear everything we do, and that the contact works both ways.

Bikers don’t like riding in cages or being confined in any way. The lack of anything happening is getting on my nerves, and it’s easy to see it’s also getting on hers. I’m trying not to let my frustration show.

“I asked you before, but you didn’t answer.” Sheri turns so she can look into my face. “I don’t know you, yet you know my name, and mentioned one of my favourite authors.”

Stretching out my long legs to ease the stiffness, I begin, in my normal way, to tell her the tale about the lone biker who stopped off for a piss and ended up with a book that was inscribed with her name. She looks rapt as I explain.

“You liked the book?”

“I haven’t finished it yet. But from what I’ve read, yes.”

“And you’re a nomad? Like Einstein?”

I chuckle softly. As far as fiction can resemble real life, “Yes.”

“So how did you know I was missing?”

I continue the story, noticing her eyes light up at the thought that her disappearance had been a topic of interest. I start to wonder about the life my ol’ lady had been leading.

To fill in the gaps, I ask, “You go to the signing on your own, or with a friend?”

She shifts a little awkwardly. “Alone. I’ve not really any friends who’d want to come with me.”

“What about a boyfriend?” Belatedly, I realise I know nothing about the woman I’ve claimed. If there is a man in the wings, I’ll just have to get rid of him.

What?I shake my head to clear it. Stating she’s my ol’ lady was just a ploy to get my club on my side. I’m not seriously going to continue the fiction once we’re outside. Am I?

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