Promised Ride (2 page)

On that night, she had been completely naked and was sitting much like she was tonight, except that she was facing Zed while sitting on the gas tank. Her arms had been wrapped around his chest and her legs were wrapped around his waist with her feet sitting on the seat behind him. Zed was fully clothed except for his penis, unless you counted Christie’s body as clothing.

Christie could clearly remember the feel of the rough leather coat as it brushed against her breasts and the scratching of the denim against the insides of her thighs. She could remember the feel of the vibration of the engine that entered her body through the cold metal of the gas tank against her ass cheeks. She could especially remember the unbelievable sensations between her legs as the bike bounced and jolted along the road. When they finally got to the mountain hideaway, she was so drained from the experience that Zed had had to carry her into the cabin. She was not so drained, however, that they did not immediately make love in a more conventional manner.

“No. No! NO!” Did she yell that out loud or just say it in her head?

Get hold of yourself
, she scolded herself strongly.
You aren’t going away for a wild weekend of sex. You screwed up. You’ve been captured by the Ryswell Brothers and no matter who their current leader is, they have very specific ways of dealing with captured federal agents.

Four agents, three men and, most recently, a woman, had gone missing over the past five years while investigating the Ryswell Brothers Motorcycle Club and their various illegal activities. Two of the men were never found. The third was located by tracking his body finder. Evidently whoever had disposed of the body thought that deep burial wasn’t necessary in the rugged deserts of Nevada. Something had uncovered him before the batteries in the beacon had gone dead and a passing private plane reported the ping.

Gloria, the female agent, had survived—if you could call it that. Four months after she had failed to report, an anonymous tip sent US ATF agents and Mexican Federales to a border town whorehouse. A combination of drugs and daily beatings had reduced the once promising federal agent to little more than a mindless sex slave who dutifully offered herself to the agents for “two dollars, American.” She was still in a psychiatric hospital somewhere in the DC area.

Christie’s body shook as the true reality of her situation forced itself into her mind. Would Zed at least be merciful and give her a quick bullet to the head once they had found out all they needed to know from her? Or would he, four months from now, call her boss and tell him where to come to pick up a worn-out gringo whore?

“The Zed I once knew is in there somewhere!”

She definitely said that aloud. It was too soft for Zed to hear over the roar of the wind, but Christie had said it aloud because she needed to hear it. Her only hope was that the Zed that she had promised to love forever was somewhere beneath that hardened layer of Zed, President of the Ryswell Brothers. All she had to do was find him.

God, she wanted to find him!

Was that where she screwed up? Had she confused looking for illegal weapons activities on the part of the Ryswell Brothers with looking for the man whom she promised never to forget? It didn’t make any difference. She had gone wrong. She had screwed up. She had screwed up six years ago, and she had royally screwed up tonight. His love for her was dead, and now it looked like soon she would be too.

Zed’s bike slowed, stopped, and went silent as he killed the engine. Christie raised her head and looked quickly around her, fearing the worst. Then she recognized where they had stopped. They were at the Ryswells’ main club house. That was the first good news of the night... maybe. They wouldn’t kill her here. They knew that the ATF was very aware of the clubhouse and the bar, which was open to the public.

To an unsuspecting civilian, The Ryswell Roadhouse looked like just another rather large biker bar with several storage buildings attached on the back. It was known for its wild bands, raucous behavior, and readily-available women, both professional and amateur. But Christie knew that the Roadhouse was more than that. The Ryswell Roadhouse was the hub of almost every club activity, legal or illegal.

As she got off the back of the bike, Zed turned her to face him. “Christie,” he said softly, “if things were different, I would put you back on the bike and we would head up into the mountains, to the cabin, face to face... and we would both be naked.” His face flickered between the softness she had once known and the hardness which he had shown her earlier in the desert. “...but too much has changed.”

Christie grabbed his head and pressed her lips frantically against his mouth, hoping to catch the Zed she loved before he disappeared once again beneath the tough exterior of the leader of the Ryswell Brothers. The softness of his lips and the way that he returned her kiss told her that she had fulfilled her hope. But it was a fleeting hope, and Zed quickly pushed her away, saying gruffly, “Like I said, too much has changed.”

He turned to two of the members who had been watching their exchange and said, “Bring her inside.” Zed then walked quickly toward the back door of the club.

The two men grabbed her roughly by the arms. One leaned close enough to her for her to smell his foul breath and whispered, “You’re alive for only two reasons, lady cop. One is that..” He thrust his hand roughly against the front of her crotch. “We ain’t gonna throw away something that good without sampling it first.”

They both laughed and then the foul-breathed man continued, “And the second is that Zed thinks he’s still in love with you.” They laughed again. “Once he figures out that you’re just another fuckin’ Federale, he will let us have you for a little fun and then we’ll ship you south.”

“Like he did to Gloria,” she said bitterly.

The other man grunted and said, “Before his time. But he’s learning what it takes to be the head of the Brothers.”

For some reason, Christie began crying. Her situation had not changed, but the relief that it had not been Zed who had disposed of the previous agents was almost overwhelming. Especially the knowledge that it had not been him who had sent Gloria into that hell of a Mexican brothel.

Zed’s voice suddenly interrupted her thoughts. “You two quit jacking around out here and get her inside. Or are you waiting for someone to fly over and take your fuckin’ picture?”

As they hustled her through the doorway, she turned to Zed and said softly, “The drones aren’t flying here tonight. They’re all way south in the desert where everyone else thought the buy was going to happen. I told them I knew where you—and the guns—would be. But they wouldn’t believe me.”

“So you went out on your own to get proof that you were right, didn’t you?” He leaned close and said in almost a whisper, “Having to always be right can cost you a lot. But you already know that, don’t you?”

Zed turned to a rather large man in a Ryswell’s Roadhouse T-shirt that said “Security” on the front and back and said, “Leroy, put her in one of the basement rooms. Treat her right, but don’t trust her. And never forget that she’s a cop.”

***

The bouncer took Christie’s hand in his own and began to lead her through the back areas of the club. For a huge man with a very rough exterior, he was surprisingly gentle. As he led her down a basement stairway he said, “Don’t worry, doll.” His voice as gentle as his touch. “I’ve got to lock you in, but they’re ok rooms. The girls used to take johns down there before the club added on the party room. Now those rooms are upstairs.”

They had reached the bottom of the steps. There were two doors on each side of a small hallway and another door at the end. Leroy opened the first door on the right and said, “I’m going to put you in room number two.” Then he added in his soft voice, “There’s a TV and bathroom and everything.”

As he ushered her into the room, his face suddenly changed. It became harder. “Now, don’t you go trying to escape,” he warned her. His voice had taken on a slightly menacing tone. He smiled at her again and said, “This is the nice room. But if you try to get away, I’ll have to put you in one of the other rooms.” He paused to look down the hallway. “They aren’t as nice. And they have cameras inside them, not just in the hallway.”

His voice was now almost flat. “And each time I have to move you, I’m not as nice either.” His eyes were absolutely cold and he seemed to look completely through her as he finished with, “You really don’t want me to have to put you in room number five.”

With that, he pulled the door closed. Christie could hear the click of two different deadbolts telling her that she was a prisoner. She looked around to examine her cell. If you ignored the fact that there were heavy bars on the narrow, basement-style windows and the reality that she might die here, it wasn’t a bad room. She checked the queen-sized bed and discovered clean, high quality sheets that matched the color of the covers and the decor of the room. A check of the bathroom revealed clean towels and personal toiletries such as one would find in a good hotel room. There was even a new toothbrush still in the store wrapper.

At least she was in a gilded cage.

A test of the television set revealed that there was no cable, but it could pull in most of the Las Vegas stations. She leaned back against the headboard of the bed and soon fell fast asleep.

***

When the knocking at the door awakened her, it took her a moment to remember where she was. There was no clock in the room and the television was in the middle of some infomercial, so it gave her no clue as to the time. She could see that there was no light at the window and hear the sound of very loud music that was still drifting down from the bar, but that only told her that it wasn’t yet morning.

“Are you decent?” The voice was Zed’s.

“Come in,” Christie called out, and the door opened slowly.

Zed waited until the door had swung open sufficiently for him to see that she was seated on the bed and then he entered. He took a key from his pocket and locked the door behind him. Then he walked over to stand in front of Christie and said, “Leroy’s sitting guard on the other side of that door, so don’t get any bright ideas about knocking me out and stealing my key.”

“I’m not that stupid,” she answered.

“How stupid are you?” he replied as he sat in a chair next to the bed. “Did you tell anyone what you were doing or where you were going?”

“Does it make a difference?” she countered. “Sooner or later they’re going to catch you in the act of either buying or selling your illegal guns. How do you get the automatic stuff into the country, anyway? That’s the big question no one’s been able to figure out. We’ve intercepted some of your shipments going south. They’re all foreign made. If you sell them, you have to buy them from somewhere.” She gave a nervous laugh, “High capacity assault weapons don’t just appear out of thin air.”

“Nothing appears out of thin air,” Zed responded softly. “And nothing disappears into thin air. Even after six years, it just keeps popping up.”

“I was talking about guns,” Christie said.

“I wasn’t,” answered Zed.

“I want to put a stop to this flow of illegal weapons out of Nevada,” Christie said emphatically.

“More than anything else?” Zed asked.

“Do you mean more than us?” she answered. “Do I love my job more than I love you?”

Zed stared silently into her eyes waiting for her to answer her own question. He had stood up from the chair and she had risen from the bed. They slowly moved toward each other in silence. Their faces were just inches apart when finally, she tearfully answered, “I thought I did.”

Christie wiped her eyes with the edge of her hand and said in a shuddering voice, “But I was wrong. Even if your men hadn’t caught me, I would never have turned the video over to my boss. If they had ordered me, I would have had to, but nobody even knew I was there. I was going to just go back home and... and...” Christie fell silent, holding back the sobs which wanted to erupt from within her.

“And do what?” Zed asked.

She screamed, “Get drunk! Eat a gallon of chocolate ice cream! Cry! I don’t know!” She beat her fists softly against Zed’s chest and allowed the sobs to flow with her words, “All I know is that I left something wonderful six years ago and things can never go back to what they once were.”

Zed pulled her into his chest and trapped her arms between them. “Some things haven’t changed,” he said and then he placed his mouth on hers. It wasn’t really a kiss. Their lips were pressed together. His mouth was slightly open, but it was as if he were staying at the edge of an actual kiss and leaving the final decision to her.

Christie would never know for sure if it was her mind or her body which made the final decision as she pushed her mouth more tightly against Zed’s and slid her tongue forward to lick the edge of his lips.

He had asked and she had answered “yes”. An intense heat immediately boiled up within both of them as they clawed at each other’s clothing. Christie could vaguely remember pulling the covers from the bed as they fell back onto the pale blue sheets.

Zed’s lips burned across her skin as his mouth sought out her breasts. His hands stroked fire into her legs and back as they roamed across her body. She tried to pull him into herself, but he held back and continued to drive her farther and farther into the hottest flames at the center of the fire of her passion. Finally, his mouth returned to hers and he forcefully kissed her as his substantial member slid into her body.