Page 4 of Her Broken Biker
My mother laughed the first time.
After that, I learned to make less noise.
The SUV turns hard, and I slam into the man beside me.
“Watch it,” he mutters.
His hand goes to my arm again.
I jerk away before I can stop myself.
His eyes narrow.
I force myself still.
The vehicle slows in front of a small cabin tucked behind thick pines. One porch light glows over warped boards. The rest of the place sits in shadow, swallowed by trees and the deep blue-black stretch of mountain night.
The man in the hoodie gets out first. The man beside me keeps the gun on me while the driver opens the front passenger door.
“Out,” the man in the hoodie orders the wounded man.
The injured man tries to move and fails. His face twists, and a low sound tears from his throat.
The man in the hoodie curses and hauls him out.
The man with the gun opens my door next.
“Move.”
I step down onto the gravel. My legs feel hollow. My tote stays on the floor of the SUV, close enough that I can see the corner of my phone through the open zipper, far enough that it may as well be in another country.
The gunman nudges my shoulder with the barrel.
I follow.
The man in the hoodie drags the wounded man toward the cabin. Each step pulls a sound from him. A grunt. A curse. A broken breath.
The cabin door groans open.
Inside, it smells like damp wood, stale smoke, and old beer. A lamp burns on a crooked side table. There’s a couch with a ripped cushion, a dusty fireplace, and a kitchen area with stained counters. The light barely reaches the corners. Beyond the open door, the woods press close and dark.
They get the wounded man inside and drop him onto the kitchen table.
His boots kick once. His hand slips from his side, and blood wells fast.
“Fix him,” the man in the hoodie snaps.
I stare at the wound.
For one heartbeat, everything inside me wants to fold.
Then training takes over.
“I need towels,” I say. “Clean ones. Scissors or a knife. Hot water. A flashlight. If you have gauze or a first aid kit, get it now.”
The men look at me like I’ve started speaking another language.
“Now,” I snap.
