Page 10 of Devil's Due

What a fucking mess.

Rock and the others had wanted to give me an escort out of our territory, but I’d turned them down, wanting to start as I am meant to go on. I’m now nomad, a biker riding alone, best get used to it. It was tempting to ride one last time alongside my brothers, but I’d preferred to say my goodbyes at the clubhouse. There would never be a good time to part company.

I follow Shooter as he drives back to the compound, but when he turns off, I carry straight on. I swear I have to fight my bike for a moment as it seems to want to steer in the direction of what I consider my true home.

Instead, I resolutely face my bike north and keep my hand to the throttle.

It’s an eleven-hour ride to Pueblo. I know, it was only a few weeks ago that I last rode there. At first, the sun on my face, the wind cooling my body, the pavement rolling by beneath my wheels gives me the sense of freedom I need. Slowly though, I’m twisting the nut to hold the throttle in position, as my hand starts to cramp. My ass begins to feel bruised, and the loneliness of riding without companions gets to me. I can’t remember when I last made a journey this long without riding with a pack, or at least one brother for company.But that’s what being a nomad means.I knew this when I accepted.

Has it all been for nothing?Damn. My hand slaps my leg as I realise Sally’s still got me in her hold even though I’ll be eight hundred miles away.

Nope. No old lady for me. Never again. Never letting someone close to me. My one example is still controlling me. Stupid, stupid Beef. I should have made the clean break then and there. Now I’ve committed to only my hand being on my cock.

I pull over when a rainstorm gets too heavy, taking the opportunity to top both me and my tank off with fuel. Then it’s back on the road again as steam from the fast evaporating standing water starts to rise when the clouds clear.

Weary, almost in a trance I arrive in Pueblo just when the sun’s beginning to set. A clock above a store front tells me it’s six-forty pm. I get lost and have to backtrack, see a distant sign and take a shortcut up a backstreet, wondering if I’ll be here long enough to feel familiar with the layout of the roads. I’m stopped at a junction, waiting for a safe gap in the traffic that’s steadily going past, knowing I’m too tired to take chances right now, when to my horror I take in the sight on the opposite side of the road. A car, moving fast, and mounting the sidewalk.

“Get out of the way!” but my roared instruction is drowned out by the traffic. It’s as though I see it happen in slow motion. A girl, a woman, who the fuck knows, with her hand on a dog’s harness… Christ, the car’s heading straight for her. The vehicles continuing to roar past on the main road cause almost a strobe effect. My eyes can’t look away as I see the dog react, it pushes the woman, she falls…

A woman’s startled cry. A piercing, ear-splitting heart-rending scream from the dog. The squeal of brakes, the shouting. I’m off my bike and tearing across the road dodging traffic that hasn’t bothered to stop. The woman is half sitting, half lying against a brick wall.

I reach her before anyone else and appear to be the only one getting involved. The car which struck her is disappearing in the distance, hopefully someone took note of the licence plate.

“You okay?” I snap.

“My dog! Max. My dog.” She’s crying hysterically, repeatedly calling out the name. It’s when her hands start touching the pavement, feeling around her that I realise she’s blind, and that the dog who’s gone silent isn’t just a pet, it’s her lifeline.

“Someone call a fuckin’ vet!” I yell out. “It’s an assistance dog.” I stand, the woman doesn’t seem to be badly hurt, more concerned and upset than anything else. Touching her briefly on the shoulder, I then go to the canine, expecting to find it dead.It saved her.If it hadn’t seen what was going on, she’d have taken a direct hit. She couldn’t have evaded it, literally wouldn’t have seen the car coming.

The dog’s breathing. I don’t want to move or touch it. A man’s injuries I could assess, but the closest I’ve got to a dog is Grunt back in the Tucson clubhouse. I walk to a man who’s got his phone in his hand.

“You called a fuckin’ vet?” I grab his jacket.

“You’ll need to find one and take the dog to him,” a woman with her hand over her mouth tells me. She looks like she’s trying not to be sick. “Vet’s don’t come out.”

“I called an ambulance, man.” The guy I’m holding looks scared out of his wits but manages to convey disgust that I seem to care more about the dog than the woman. But I’m pretty sure the car didn’t hit her, and that the dog has the more serious injuries. I’d had a prime seat from across the other side of the junction after all.

With a wailing of sirens, an ambulance appears. The medics examine the woman and get her up.

“Max. Max.Max? Where are you, boy?”

“Ma’am, we’ve got to take you in. You seemed to have banged your head.”

“I’m not leaving my dog. Where is he? I need to go to him.”

“Ma’am.” I don’t know why I offer, it’s none of my business at all. But of the few people who’ve stopped, they all seem to lose interest now the woman’s got help. “I’ll stay with the dog, I’ll make sure I get a vet for him. Find out how he’s doing, then I’ll let you know. Where are you taking her?” I direct my question to the paramedic, and then mentally note his answer of the name of the hospital I’ll need help to find.

“You promise?” Her head is tilted in my direction, locating me only by the sound of my voice, hers is full of desperation as she repeats. “You really promise? You’ll see he gets help?”

“I promise.” My teeth are gritted. I’ve no reason to help. I’m tired as hell and want nothing more than a beer and a bed. But something about this situation gets to me, and I know I can’t walk away.

“Is he, is he…?”

“He’s breathing—” I start answering the question I know she’s asking in the only way I can. Then I pause. She seems to realise I’m asking a question.

“Stevie.”

“Yeah, well, he’s breathing Stevie. But unconscious.”

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