Page 57 of Mile High With the Bikers
Shrapnel leans his head against mine. “Tell me that again after. Remember when I told you that I have some, well, impulse control issues?”
I nod.
“It got worse when I got blown up.” He laughs. “Well, technically, the truck next to mine blew up. I just got blown over I suppose. It still did a number on me. I always thought I’d be career Army. That was my whole fucking plan, and it blew up with me.”
“Is that why you left?”
“Yes and no. I fell into that shitty void between A-OK, and fucked enough to get sent home. I was twenty and too stubborn to admit I was hanging by a thread, not that anyone encouraged me to look too deep, you know? I was functioning, but there was a… situation on base. One of my superiors was harassing a female soldier. He outranked her, too, and he wouldn’t fucking let it go that she didn’t want to play along. We all saw it, and he just kept escalating.” He grimaces. “I'm a rough asshole sometimes, but when you’re out in the field, you need to know that the people who are there have your fucking back. I let him know that I didn't approve.” He flexes his fingers.
“With words?”
He laughs at me. “Fuck no. Broke his face and pulled his shoulder out of its socket. Turned out the asshole's father was deep in politics. Everyone knew why I did it, but I was still the bad guy. Luckily, my CO was decent, and got me discharged on medical grounds. Last I heard the asshole was climbing the ranks and I was out on the street with no network, a temper I couldn’t control, and nothing but the money in my wallet. You'll gonna hear this story a lot, but the Eagles were my fucking salvation. I came in as a prospect four years ago with Reaper, Mad Dog and a couple others, thinking it'd be somewhere to be while I figured shit out. Now I can't imagine ever leaving.”
“Wow. If it helps, I think you're a hero for doing something.” We sit in the quiet, I can tell he’s thinking.
“I’m not… I’m not dangerous if you’re worried. Not because of that at least.”
I look up at him, surprised. “I wasn’t worried. Maybe that’s a dumb thing to say because I saw what was left of Mason, but I think if someone kidnaps and tries to kill you, it’s probably okay to get a little violent.”
“Thanks,” he says dryly.
I shift, trying to put a little more weight on my hip. This floor is hard and my butt is getting sore. “Have you ever thought about having what some of the other guys do? Sharing an old lady, I mean.”
“Of course. Quite a bit, lately.”
“Oh? She’d be a lucky woman.”
Shrapnel’s shoulders shake with a silent laugh. “I don’t know. The only brothers I can put up with enough for that sorta shit would be Bull and Diesel, and who in their right mind would want to saddle themselves with those assholes?”
“True. I see what you mean. But I think the right girl would probably be okay with it. In the right circumstances.”
“Like not being held in a cold cement cell?”
“For starters.” I close my eyes and snuggle into Shrapnel’s side.
“I’m going to hold you to it when we get out of here.”
“When, not if?”
“When. I’ve got a girl waiting for me. I can’t disappoint her.”
A single tear slips out. I believe him, I really do. Whoever took us probably needs me, but it seems so unfair that I met the three of them like this. That they made me care so much, and someone istrying to take it away before we can even figure out where this is going.
A key rattles in the lock and the door squeaks open. Three big guys in suits come in. They all look the same, high and tight haircuts, shades and wearing black leather gloves. Their uniform basically screams villain henchman. Then again, that pretty much describes Mason and Tim. Described, at least for Mason. An involuntary shudder shakes me. He betrayed us, and no matter how horrible, I think Shrapnel did the necessary thing, but I still feel bad for him. I knew him for a long time. I don’t know what tipped him over, and now I guess I might never know. Money?
Two of the suits approach, drawing knives. My heart stops in my chest as they crouch next to us. Does it end here?
“If you fucking cut me…” Shrapnel growls so viciously his guy backs up a moment, like he has to check if Shrapnel's actually still tied down before he dares come back. But when they cut, it's just the ropes around our ankles.
“Get up,” says the third henchman. We get pulled to our feet whether we want to or not. Shrapnel tries to shake off the grip of the guy supporting him, but with his arms tied, he doesn't have the leverage.
“What are you planning to do with us?”
“My orders are just to bring you to my boss. Anything else is up to her. Follow me.” Her? It's a woman? I didn't expect that, but why not?
“Both of us?”
He shrugs. “Not necessarily.”
