Pack Challenge

Chapter One

TOC

“He’s on the List?”

“But he just… ”

“He’s on the List.”

Sara sat behind the counter of Marrec’s Choppers, the store she had been working at since she was fourteen, and watched the now weekly ritual between her two best friends.

“Sara.” Miki demanded, “The List!”

“Would you two bitches please stop. I have a migraine.”

“No. You have a hangover. Now, the List.”

Sara sighed, “No cowboys. No bikers. No criminals of any kind. And no republicans.”

“And…”

Sara and Angelina shrugged.

“No rodeo clowns.”

“You just added that!” Angelina snapped. It had been a rodeo clown that had just asked her on a date that morning.

“No. No. They were always on the List.”

“He’s a nice guy.”

“He dodges bulls for a living. He’s gonna screw you over!”

“Stop yelling!” Sara put her head in her hands. “Just let me die in peace.”

“That’s what you get for getting all liquored up.” Miki chastised.

Sara felt Angelina slip an arm around her shoulders, “Honey, it’s been six months since your grandmother died. Maybe it’s time to stop celebrating. Especially since you seem to become quite the whore when you drink.”

“I do not!” But Sara couldn’t help but smile at the faint, drunken memory of attacking some poor guy in the alley of her favorite club. “Besides, I’m not celebrating. I’m just glad that my grandmother’s…”

“In hell?” Miki cut in.

“There’s no proof of that.” Sara rubbed her temples. The pain in her head would go away eventually. Besides, she was used to pain. Her right leg had been in varying states of unbearable pain for more than 20 years. She’d simply learned to ignore it. And she probably would continue to ignore the pain for the rest of her life. She’d almost grown used to it. Hell, it could be worse. She could be dead.

Or, she could be like the girl stumbling up and through the front door of the shop. Her face and biker leather covered in dirt and blood.

“Holy shit.” Sara quickly limped out from behind the counter, “Guys, call 911. Marrec!” She yelled toward the back, “Come quick!”

“No. No. I’m fine.” The girl waved Sara away.

“Really? You look like shit,” Miki remarked.

“Bike crashed.” The girl stretched and Sara could hear every one of her bones cracking. “Actually, that’s why I’m here. You’ve got a mechanic here, right?”

“Don’t you really need an ambulance?” Angelina asked.

“Or a hearse.” Miki muttered.

Sara elbowed her friend. She did that a lot when it came to Miki.

“Nope. Just a mechanic…and a bathroom.”

“I’ll show her.” Angelina led the girl to the back of the store.

Marrec appeared. Oil and dirt smeared on his face, hands, and T-shirt. The man was supposedly in his 60s but he looked more like a prematurely graying 45. He was shorter than Sara but powerfully built. He had taken Sara under his wing when she was fourteen and had just been thrown head-first through his shop door during a fight that Miki still claimed wasn’t her fault.

“What’s going on?” Marrec stood next to Sara, wiping his hands on a rag.

“Some girl just got into a crash.”

Miki looked out the large glass window, “Christ, look at that girl’s bike. She should be dead.”

Marrec looked at the bike and his eyes narrowed, “She’s walking?”

“Believe it or not,” Sara answered, “Angelina took her to the bathroom.”

Angelina returned to her two friends, “She’s in there now. I’m patiently waiting to hear a thud.”

“I’ll go check her bike,” Marrec muttered as he moved toward the exit.

After about ten minutes, the girl re-emerged. She had cleaned off her face and hands and had rinsed the blood and dirt from her hair. She was an amazingly pretty girl—who looked like she could bench press a Buick.

“Much better.” She announced. She looked at the three women who stared back. “Something wrong?”

“We’re just waiting for you to pass out.” Miki admitted.

The girl grinned, “Mechanic?”

“That’s Marrec. He’s checking your bike now.” Sara glanced out the window, “But, honey, your bike is toast.”

“Ya think?” The girl walked outside. Sara, Miki, and Angelina following behind her.

Sara marveled at how quickly the girl seemed to be recovering. Maybe she was on some new pain killer. She’d have to ask. She might be needing it herself soon.

The girl walked over to the mangled remains of her bike, “My poor baby.”

Sara caught Miki rolling her eyes. She never could understand the bikers’ love of their Choppers. The passion.

Marrec, who was still crouched beside the bike, slowly stood up and looked at the girl. Their eyes locked and they stared at each other. That’s all they did. Just stare. Finally, the girl looked away. She looked back at her bike.

Miki nudged Sara. But Sara blew it off; she’d seen Marrec do that many times before. It was that “weird thing” he did. Hell, Miki did lots of weird things so she had absolutely no room to judge.

“Where did you crash anyway?” Angelina queried.

The girl knelt down beside the mangled metal, “Don’t know. I guess about two miles back.”

The friends exchanged glances.

“How did you get your bike here?”

“Dragged it.” The girl’s head shifted as Marrec turned to face the parking lot entrance.

“Wait a minute,” Miki continued, “You expect us to believe that you dragged that thing here? In your condition? Bullshit,” she finished flatly.

Sara and Angelina exchanged glances. As always, Miki was as subtle as a brick to the head.

But the girl ignored her, “Good.” She seemed relieved, “They’re here.” She stood up and walked to the front of the parking lot just as four beautiful, tricked-out Choppers, all manned by women, pulled in and halted next to the girl.

“Check it out.” Angelina elbowed her friends, “Lesbians. In Texas.”

“Would you shut up,” Sara chuckled.

“Julie, glad to see you’re not dead.” Spoke the oldest of the women. Her blond hair streaked with gray. Her face covered in age lines. She was probably gorgeous once. Now she was just beautiful.

She got off her bike and hugged the battered girl, “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, Casey, I’m fine.” The girl leaned in and whispered something to the older woman. Casey looked up and straight at Marrec.

“No problem.” Casey walked over to Marrec. “This your shop?”

Sara watched her boss’s back straighten, his arms crossing over his large chest. “Yeah.”

The woman smiled coldly, “Got a minute?”

Marrec observed the woman carefully. “Sara,” he spoke without taking his eyes off Casey, “Go inside.”

A startled Sara looked at her equally startled friends, “Are you kidding?” She asked him. Marrec rarely ordered her to do anything. He especially never ordered her to go away like a 10-year-old child.

The look he gave her clearly told her he was serious. But before Sara could clearly and concisely tell him to fuck off, Casey intervened.

“Julie needs to get a new bike. That one isn’t going anywhere. Could you show her what you guys have?”

Sara rolled her eyes at the lame attempt to get rid of her.

“Wow, Julie. Your bike is fucked.” This from a tiny Asian woman that was crouching by the totaled bike.

“I know, Kelly. I know.”

“Don’t worry about it.” The older woman answered, “We’ll get you a new one here. Kelly’s got the cash and cards. I think it’s time to spend a little money.”

Miki folded her arms in front of her chest, “Drug money, I assume?” She queried smugly.

Angelina’s eyes snapped open wide and Sara slapped her hand over her friend’s mouth, as Casey raised an eyebrow.

“Why don’t you guys go in and check out our stock. Some great stuff just came in.” Sara offered.

With a nod of her head, Casey motioned to her females and they entered the store while she and Marrec walked to the edge of the parking lot, out of hearing rage. Once they were effectively alone, Sara and Angelina let out huge sighs.

“‘Drug money, I assume?’” Angelina ground out between clenched teeth.

Miki looked at her friends, “I was just asking.”

“Well don’t! Don’t ask. Don’t query. Don’t question.” Angelina moved toward the door, then spun around to look at Miki. “And try not to get the shit kicked out of us by biker chicks. Think you can handle that?”

“Think you can handle that?” Miki muttered as she went to follow her friend into the store. Sara watched as Miki grabbed the handle on the glass door, but she pushed instead of pulled and slammed into it, “Motherfucker!”

Sara laughed and felt her headache just slip away.