Ashby Holler (8 page)

Chapter Ten

Sasha

A motorcycle revved, pulling Sasha from the cusp of sleep. She sat up in bed, looking around her room. A crackle of fire echoed outside her window, and an orange glow lit her walls. She fought to untangle from blankets, rolling out of bed. Her hip bumped the nightstand, glass bottles clinking as she peered out the window. Sharp flames licked the sky, spreading down the line of tractor-trailers parked across from the clubhouse. Her jaw inched open, only the smallest of gasps seeping out.

Most of the fleet had disappeared behind a wall of fire. Most, not all. Sasha turned from the window, running out of her room. Splintered wood dug into her bare feet as she dashed down rickety stairs. Her long t-shirt rode up her thighs, frosty air chilling her skin. She glanced at her mother’s house atop the hill, catching a silhouette in the window.

“Thank God,” she muttered. If Satan’s Crew had tried to burn her mother alive, she’d have to kill them slowly. It would’ve taken months to torture them all. At least now she could slaughter them quick.

Sasha turned back to face the roar of flames, running toward it. Fire streamed from the long gas tank of the green Peterbilt before it exploded, blowing the truck off the ground and Sasha’s hair back. She skidded to a stop outside the clubhouse, dodging bits of fiery gas tank. Swirls of groaning flames, which had lifted the once-majestic Peterbilt into the air, spread out as the semi slammed back to the ground. A firestorm devoured the fleet. The green truck, now a mangled pile of blazing metal, infected the trucks beside it with its raging inferno.

A window shattered in her father’s black International, the rig that inspired the club, and Sasha ran forward only to have a strong hand grasp her arm.

“No key,” Kev yelled, holding her back while cupping a deep gash on his forehead.

“What are you doing here?” Sasha yanked herself free, shielding her face from swells of blistering heat.

“I passed out on the pool table and—Fuck! The trucks.”

“Sasha!”

Sasha spun toward the sound of her mother’s voice and the jingle of keys.

“Black truck,” Sasha yelled. She caught the key that sailed toward her chest then sprinted to the rig. “Call the guys,” she hollered to Kev. “They might be targets.”

Another explosion rocked the ground as Sasha reached for the driver’s door, flinging her to the gravel. Flames poured from beneath the truck, climbing atop one another in a rush to gobble her up. “Shit,” she yelled, springing to her feet.

Heated metal singed her exposed legs as she climbed into the cab. Her fingers shook, missing the ignition before cranking the engine to life. Sweat poured from her chin, the fire’s roar vibrating her eardrums. The shifter scorched her palm when she gripped onto its steel ball. Even though it stung like road-rash, she grinded the truck into gear then drove from flashes of fire bursts.

Sasha jumped from the truck, wincing as jagged rocks scraped the bottoms of her raw feet. The sight of her mother frozen in front of the clubhouse, gawking, was more unsettling than the blaze. She’d never seen that woman hesitate before.

“I heard motorcycles,” Sasha said, limping to her mother’s side.

“The fleet,” Ellen said, her eyes reflecting the fury of the flames.

“Get inside.” Sasha took her mother’s arm, hurrying into the clubhouse.

Kev rushed forward, and the phone’s cord yanked him back to the wall. “Chewy and Vinny didn’t answer.”

Panic struck Sasha’s chest harder than a fist. “Fuck. Otis?”

“I’m trying him now.”

Sasha left her mother beside the pool table, snatching the phone from Kev’s hand. “Go get me some clothes and bring my pickup around.”

Kev ran toward the door, disappearing into curls of smoke. Otis’s groggy voice sang in Sasha’s ear.

“We’ve been hit,” she said, ignoring the tremble that disrupted her words.

“What? Are you—I hear motorcycles,” Otis said in a hushed voice.

“Grab a gun and get low,” Sasha said, clutching the phone’s cord.

Pops burst through the receiver, followed by a grunt and the shatter of broken glass. Sasha flinched, and her mother hustled to her side.

“I need shotguns and ammo,” Sasha said while listening to the stream of gunfire that blasted from the phone.

Ellen dashed into the backroom, and the line grew quiet, leaving Sasha with the crackle of fire. “Otis! Fuck, man. Otis!”

“I’m okay,” Otis said. “My house just got lit up. Did you warn anyone else?”

“Kev’s here, but Chewy and Vinny didn’t answer.”

“Ellen?”

“She’s fine.” Sasha glanced at her mother, who’d laid weapons on the pool table. “They firebombed the fleet.”

Kev ran into the clubhouse, tossing clothes at Sasha’s chest, and she propped the phone against her shoulder while dressing.

“I’ll head to Chewy’s,” Otis said. “You and Kev get to Vinny’s house.”

“Be careful.” Sasha hung up the phone and jammed her sore feet into tight boots.

“This is your fault,” Ellen said, glaring at Sasha. “Our fleet, the crew, fucked. All because of that stunt you pulled with Satan’s Crew last month.”

Sasha grabbed two shotguns, shoving a tin of shells at Kev’s chest. “Get in the truck.” Kev scurried from sight, and Sasha backed out the door. “Lock up and grab a gun,” she said to her mother before sprinting to her running pickup.

“Otis?” Kev asked as she drove through the now-busted front gate.

“They shot up his house, but he’s okay.” Sasha cut the corner, flooring the gas. “Goddamn motherfucker!” She pounded her fist against the steering wheel, but it didn’t stop a flood of rage from creeping into her mind. Her crew could be lying in puddles of their own blood right now, which reminded her.

“You okay?” Sasha asked, looking at Kev. “Your head?”

Kev wiped the streaks of blood from his forehead. “Fuckers hit me with something while I was passed out.”

“This is my fault. I firebombed their warehouse. I started a war.”

“They took out our men first.” Kev sat up when they turned onto Vinny’s street. “Oh shit.”

Police cars lined the road, red and blue lights flashing off the tightly packed houses.

“Stash the guns,” Sasha said, shoving her shotgun under the seat. She slowed the truck to a crawl, bobbing to see beyond the uniformed men who eyed her as she drove by. “Someone’s on a stretcher.” Her hand tapped Kev’s chest. “Who is it?”

Kev sat up, looking over Sasha’s head. “It’s Vinny. He’s moving, talking.”

“Thank God,” she said. “Dez?”

“His truck’s not here. He left with Debbie tonight.”

Sasha busted a right, flooring it toward Main Street. “This is so not good, man. Now the fuzz is involved.”

“Good thing you got those pictures of the sheriff.”

“Yeah.” Sasha stopped in front of the diner, shutting the engine. When Kev reached for the door, she seized his arm. “Wait.”

After a second of looking and listening to nothing, she released her clutch. “Okay. Let’s go.”

They both grabbed a shotgun and inched to the stairs that led above the diner. On a small landing, Sasha lowered her gun and Kev covered her back. She knocked hard, then returned her hold to the barrel.

The steel slab cracked open, and Dez peeked out. “Sasha!” He ripped the door open, shrinking back when glimpsing the gun in her hands.

Sasha pushed by Dez, barging inside. “There’s been a…thing.”

“Don’t freak out.” Kev shut the door, resting his gun on his shoulder. “Vinny’s okay. We think.”

“What the fuck happened? It’s four in the morning!” Dez shouted.

“Is everything all right?” Debbie asked, clutching Dez’s jacket to her naked body.

Sasha’s head twisted toward the squeaky voice, and Dez took hold of Debbie, ushering her backward from the room. “Hey, babe. Why don’t you go gather up my clothes? I gotta talk with my crew for a minute.”

“Yeah, sure,” Debbie said softly.

“Actually.” Sasha looked beyond Dez, grinning at Debbie. “The club could really use your help, Deb. Do you mind?”

A wide smile spanned Debbie’s lips. She bumped Dez aside, prancing forward while nodding.

***

Ellen

A big block engine purred, holding steady at one hundred miles an hour, and Ellen pushed the gas harder when she crossed the state line. Her Chevelle SS stood out like a sore thumb, sure to get her pulled over, which was exactly what she needed. Every cop in eastern Tennessee worked for Satan’s Crew. Now to hook one.

After twenty minutes of speeding down Route 81, lights flashed in the rearview mirror. Ellen pulled to the shoulder, tucked a knife down her boot, and killed the engine. When the officer neared, she climbed from the car, slow, hands at her sides. “I need to see Dante.”

“Ellen!” The cop inched closer, his hand on the butt of his holstered gun. “You’re a little far from Kentucky, aren’t ya?”

“Cut the shit,” Ellen strolled past the man, stopping to pluck his nametag, “Miller.” While waiting by the passenger door, she hardened her glare, which she directed at the gawking man.

“Let’s go,” she barked, and he jumped, hurrying to open her door.

***

Sasha

Sasha stood in the hospital’s parking lot, watching Dez verge the threshold of a full-on freak-out. His body coiled tighter with every detail he learned of the night’s events. He must’ve reached the end of his tension rope because now he was unwinding at a frantic pace. It was a miracle he hadn’t punched anything yet.

Dez crashed his fist onto the hood of Sasha’s pickup, denting the metal. “I can’t believe my brother’s laid up and I’m out here, hiding like a fucking pussy.”

“There’s probably mad cops in there,” Sasha said, leaning against her bumper.

A low growl rumbled past Dez’s lips, and he raised his finger, waving it in both Sasha and Kev’s face. “I’m gonna gut me some douchebag biker faggot mother—”

“Look,” Kev said. “Here comes Debbie.”

They crowded around the tall blonde in the short leather skirt whose chain belt jingled every time her stillettos touched the ground.

“Piece of cake,” Debbie said. “Told the bitch at the desk I was Vinny’s fiancé. Spaz let me right into his room.”

“And?” Sasha said, flapping her hand at the wrist.

“Vinny has a message,” Debbie said, leaning forward. “He says it’s just a flesh wound. Ellen took care of the heat, and someone better be waiting around back ‘cause he’s gonna grab some pills and sneak himself out.”

Debbie grinned, her jaw slapping at the gum that rolled in her mouth.

“Did you do the other thing?” Sasha asked, straining to mask her annoyed tone.

“Oh yeah.” Debbie rifled through her large leather purse. “They totally leave those medical charts just laying around.” She pulled out a wad of crumpled papers, frowning. “Oops! Had to hurry. Anyway, here’re Vinny’s records.”

Dez snatched the papers, smoothing the creases while he read. “GSR to the shoulder, through and through.”

“Dude must have a guardian angel,” Kev said with a grin.

“I’m going around back to fetch him.” Dez hurried toward his truck, which was parked beside Sasha’s pickup in the near empty lot.

“Wait,” Debbie cried out. “I need a ride home.”

“Kev can take you.” Sasha tossed her keys to Kev. “Take my truck, and meet us back at the clubhouse when you’re done. I’ll ride with Dez.” She smiled at Debbie, patting her lightly on the arm. “The club owes you, big time.”

“Bitchin’,” Debbie said over the clank of her heels as she flounced away.

Dez revved his engine, and Sasha hurried into the cab. He floored the gas, thrusting her back into the seat.

“Vinny’s fine. You can simmer down.”

“The fleet, drivebys on our homes…” Dez hit the brakes, cutting around the back of the hospital. “What the fuck’s been going down, Sasha?”

Sasha looked away, shaking her head. Dez slammed on the brakes, stopping in the shadow of a giant oak tree, and grabbed her arm.

“Don’t.” Sasha yanked herself from his grasp, glaring.

“Don’t what? Touch you?” His large hands clutched the sides of her arms, pulling her close. “Why? ‘Cause you like it too much?”

“Fuck off.” She shoved Dez away, moving as far from him as possible. “You’re sergeant at arms. Shouldn’t you already know everything about everything?”

“Don’t be a bitch, Sasha.”

“Don’t be a dick, Desmond.”

Dez stared at the hospital’s back door, his fingers strumming the steering wheel. “All I want to do is protect the club, like you. We have to trust each other. We only have each other.”