Tear Me Away (Desert Wraiths MC Romance)

By: Amy Kiss

I tried to shuffle away, tripped over my own purse and smacked into the asphalt.

When I picked my head up, a hairy face was sneering down on it. "Well, what's your name sweetie?" his ugly mouth asked.

"I didn't see anything," I said.

"Oh." He looked actually sad for a moment. "Then that's not what you should have said."

I staggered to my feet and began trying to run. Put one foot in front of the other anyway, but the beer was not adjusting to the change of the height and I just ended up staggering sideways into the car door. The biker stood where he was, just grinning. Animals only grinned before they attacked. That’s what that thing in leather was. I took off again, knowing it was useless, knowing I had no other options.

"Twist, just grab her and let's go."

I didn't even hear him come up. His hands were just at my waist and then I was going backwards. I screamed, and he cupped my mouth. He tasted like poison and blood. He thrust me up against the bars.


His hands left me no option. I climbed the iron fence, dropped down. The other guy had just finished taping a helmet onto the body and now he approached me with the dark roll. He didn't look as playful as the other one, his mouth in an outright frown.

"Don't make this hurt," he said.

"Please, I won't say anything. I... I don't even know what happened."

"No," he said, ripping up a piece of tape. "You don't. And that means it's more likely you'll go mouthing off."

"I won't."

"Oh, I know." The tape slapped across my mouth.

I wanted to run again, but then a hand swept across my waist.

"Listen, babe," said the one called Twist. "You gonna come for a little ride with us. We'll keep you safe, alright?"

I shook my head, the only protest left to me.

"Alright then, let me say it again. Either we leave your body here. Or you come work for us."

I went still.

"That's what I thought. Don't worry, you're a pretty little critter. We'll find a nice use for you."

They tossed all their bags into one big trashbag. One slung it over his shoulder. The other slung the dead guy and we walked back through the cargo maze, me in between them. We came out on the parking lot. Two shiny dark Harleys stood waiting.

They tossed the bag in the industrial waste bin. The one guy strapped the dead guy’s arms to him with tape and sat with him on one of the bikes. Twist stuffed me onto the other bike and then sat down in front.

"Hold on tight. You let go, you die."

I nodded and wrapped my arms around his thick waist.

We roared out of the lot, and for a second I dreamed we would turn back towards the bar. I could tumble off and go screaming to those other bikers for help. But we turned right. The engines thrummed and we shot off past the industrial district and out into the desert.

I didn't understand anything about where I was headed. My death, likely. I imagined those twin orbs of blue coming at me with a knife. Somehow it didn’t feel right. They just studied me, wide and revealing nothing.

Twist had said they’d find a guy for me. That sounded even worse.

A motorcycle had led my parents to their grave.

Looked like I was headed to join them.


The club bar parted as I went through - like water for a shark. Most of the lower guys knew better than to look my way. Some gave me a glance and a nod. A few - always the newly initiated - tried to meet my eyes, see if the rumors told true. It was the simplest thing to tighten my lips and go glassy. They would snap right back to whatever they were doing so fast you could hear their neck crack.

That's what you do when you saw a ghost. Close your eyes and hope it has somewhere else to haunt.

I pounded through the back door into the club room. A long wood table filled up much of it. The bottles of whiskey and half emptied beer on top jittered as I walked around. Some of the men sitting round did too.

"Jeez, Ghost. Could you try floating in for a change?" Dyno asked. He was tall and lean, with a fuse of red hair which he exterminated with extreme prejudice. Sergeant at arms, supposed to keep the troops in line. Like an MP, not that MPs had ever managed to keep me in line.

"Ain't that kind of ghost," I said, pulling up the seat next to him.

"There's one that makes noise right," Canyon said from across the table. He snapped his fingers. "Shit it's on the tip of my tongue."

"Poltergeist," I said. "And I ain't that kind either. I'm the worst of both in one nice little package."

One of the newer officers started to snicker at the 'little package,' but I looked his way and the grin melted off.

Fists pounded into the table on my other side. I traced em up to the club president, a plain-faced somber-eyed Latino guy that simply went by Nico. You couldn't tell just by looking that this squat hunk of muscle led one of the most vicious biker clubs this side of the border. That was part of the charm. He pulled off an aura that drew men in about as well as mine made people stay away.

He never went dramatic unless he got worked up.

I met his copper eyes and nodded. "It's done."

"Twist and Stick?"

"Cleaning up."

"And you just left them?"

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