Runaway Ride Part 31

Six years later "You got this, doll," Reser thumped her on the back and gave her a thumbs up. "Remember who's waiting for you at the end."

Haley smiled, gave a brief thumbs up, and pulled her goggles down. Taking a deep calming breath, she waited for the call to start. It didn't matter that she had finally made it to the Olympics or that all her hard work hadn't been in vain. None of it mattered at that moment. No, it was just her and a slope. It was just skis and packed snow.

The call sounded and she took off, letting all other sounds disappear into a white noise that buzzed just beyond her consciousness. She tucked her body in, but kept herself loose enough to catch the curves. Cold whipped at her body, trying to penetrate her suit, but nothing stopped her. Soon she was flying across the snow, jumping in the air and feeling absolutely nothing beneath her.

It couldn't have been more than a few seconds, a few blinks of the eye before she hit the finish line, but it felt longer. Every second stretched into a minute. Haley's hearing returned, as she began to lose momentum. Suddenly, she wasn't just seeing white anymore. Faces appeared in her vision, as she slowed and moved towards the crowd positioned just behind the border.

An announcer's voice invaded her ears, as she spotted the only two faces in the world that mattered. "...and that gets Below are some of Miriam Becker's other works to enjoy! Tap the covers for a sample

TAMARA KNOWLES.

Sons of Trouble.

Tamara Knowles.

It was a sunny Friday morning, the kind of day when most people liked to sit outside in the summer weather and enjoy a late breakfast in the town's diner. As the owner of the diner, Bianca dreaded Fridays and Sat.u.r.days. The Merrick boys would be around soon, as they were every week. If she was lucky, they'd merely scare away her other customers so they could have the place to themselves. Some inconsiderate behavior and rude remarks would have to be endured for a couple of hours, but afterwards they'd leave. If they were feeling particularly rowdy or if another customer made the mistake of looking at them the wrong way, that person or people would get an ugly beating from the entire gang and her precious diner would get smashed...again.

A faint roar could be heard, as a 4x4 engine approached. The sound was joined by the whooping of its pa.s.sengers, as the vehicle pulled up to the diner. Bianca knew they'd show up eventually, but her heart sank all the same. The Merrick boys disembarked from the 4x4 and swaggered into the diner. They liked to think of themselves as a club and often identified themselves as such; but, the Merrick boys were just a glorified gang of hooligans. Chad Merrick was the leader and the namesake of the informal group. His pack of boisterous friends, who were really just hanger-ons, identifying themselves as the Merrick boys or the Merrick crew.

The young thugs swaggered in, as if they owned the place. They rudely pushed aside a few hapless patrons and appropriated a table by the window. They talked and laughed amongst themselves without bothering to look at the menus or to keep their voices down. The infrequent customers looked as if they wanted to ask the Merrick boys to be quiet, whereas the regulars did the smart thing and kept their heads down. They knew that they should devour their breakfasts and escape before the Merrick boys got bored and decided to break something.

Plucking up her courage, Bianca went over to their table with a tray clutched tightly in both hands. Without a word, she put the tray down and poured them each a cup of coffee. She hoped they'd just ignore her this time.

"Got any booze, sweetheart?" demanded one of the Merrick boys with a grin.

"This is a diner, not a bar," Bianca replied. Explaining the difference was pointless to these knuckleheads. They came by to show that they were in charge, never for food or drink.

"Even so, all you ever have to drink is tea or watery coffee," said another Merrick, rudely. "It's not even an Irish coffee."

Most people would point out that if you didn't like the food or drink, you didn't have to eat there. The last time a customer made this observation to the Merrick boys, they'd beaten the person and smashed a window. Bianca knew better than to kick them out. For one thing, they'd probably break something out of spite on their way out. For another, in spite of their obnoxious behavior, they never failed to pay off their tab. Even if she could kick them out and get them to stay away, Bianca couldn't afford to turn away paying customers.

"Would you boys like anything to eat with your coffee?" she asked them.

"No f.u.c.king way, the food in this place made me puke last time," said the leader, Chad Merrick. He laughed and downed his cup of coffee.

"That's cos' you drank too much whisky, Chad," replied one of his friends.

"Who gives a f.u.c.k what it was I drank that night?" Chad shot back. "We don't want any of your c.r.a.ppy food, you s.k.a.n.k, get outta here."

Swallowing her pride, as she was forced to do every time, Bianca gathered up the tray and hurried behind the counter. She tried not to wonder which would be worse: a drunken Merrick or an over-caffeinated Merrick. Neither of those possibilities sounded very endearing.

The Merrick boys stayed for over an hour, engaging in a loud conversation without any consideration for their fellow patrons. The regular customers finished their meals and asked for the bill as quickly as they could. Bianca flitted back and forth between the tables, collecting payments, serving food, and refilling coffee cups. At the same time, she kept an anxious eye on the Merrick crew. She fervently hoped that no one would pick a fight with them and that they'd pay up and get lost sooner rather than later.

One customer, evidently with no experience of the gang and their antics, finally became tired of their loud conversation. As he got up to confront them, Bianca's heart sank. She watched, as a sixty-something year old man approached the young men and demanded that they keep the volume down. Then, Chad Merrick got out of his seat and squared off against him, with his lackeys backing him up.

"There a problem, old man?" Chad demanded menacingly of the elderly patron.

"I just want you to keep it down, that's all," the man replied.

"And why the f.u.c.k should we do that?" The Merrick boys were grinning with gleeful antic.i.p.ation, as they balled their fists. They were eager for a fight to liven up their day, even though it was six of them against one senior citizen.

"I'll...I'll call the cops," the old man threatened. That ultimatum elicited a roar of laughter from the Merrick crew.

"Oh no, please don't call the cops!" Chad Merrick said, mocking him. "We'll be as quiet as church mice, we promise."

Chad followed up his sarcastic plea by giving the old man a rough shove into the stools behind him. Bianca watched helplessly, as the old man got up and swung his fist at the young hooligan, who easily sidestepped him and threw him to the floor again.

"Stupid p.r.i.c.k," Chad Merrick snarled. "We own the whole f.u.c.king place and that means we can talk as loudly as we d.a.m.n well want."

With the other customers looking on in shock and dismay, the Merrick boys got up to leave. Each took their turn to spit on the old man on the way out. Simply because he could, the last of the thugs swept the coffee cups off the table and onto the floor.

Bianca winced as the cups shattered on the ground, spilling their contents onto the carefully mopped floor. Before heading out the door, Chad reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. "Catch, b.i.t.c.h," he said contemptuously, as he threw the money at her.

She caught the money and began counting it bitterly, as Chad swaggered out of the diner. She loathed the Merrick boys. Everyone in the town loathed them. She hated their obnoxious and abusive behavior towards her and her customers. She hated their arrogance, doing as they pleased wherever they went and acting as if they owned the town. She hated replacing newly damaged items nearly every week. But above all, she hated the humiliation of taking their money after insults and broken cups. The cash helped her get by and it usually covered whatever damage they'd caused, plus a little extra.

As much as she hated that she was bribed into silence, she couldn't afford not to take it. It was much better to just take the money and stay on the Merrick gang's good side than risk their vandalistic wrath. Plus, she feared the potentially bankrupting destruction they might unleash on her precious diner if she didn't play along.

Once she'd pocketed the cash, Bianca went to help the old man to his feet. The roar of the 4x4 engine erupted in the parking lot, as the Merrick boys clambered on and sped away. Once again, whooping and cheering could be heard in the distance. At least the damage wasn't too bad this time.

The sun was just over the horizon, its rays just starting to peak between the buildings in town, slowly warming up the landscape. Something was different this Sat.u.r.day morning. Instead of the usual dawn silence, a faint droning could be heard on the road heading into town. As the sun rose higher in the sky, the droning became a roar, heralding the advance of a faint black smudge in the distance. Several distinct dots powered closer, their roar growing louder. Five bikers, clad in black leather, had arrived in town. They pulled up outside the diner and dismounted.

The first customers of the day swaggered into the diner, startling Bianca as they took up a window booth without a word. She walked over with a notebook and pen, nervously keeping her distance from the thuggish-looking visitors.

"Can I get you anything to drink?" she asked apprehensively.

"Strong black coffee would be good, please," said the leader of the band of bikers, politely. He even smiled as he said it, which was pleasantly surprising.

Bianca went off and returned with some cups and a pot of coffee, while they looked over the menu. She returned to the counter to prepare for the arrival of other patrons, all the while watching the bikers with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity. She'd always imagined bikers as rough-looking men in their forties and fifties with long, graying beards and potbellies. Not these guys. They looked strong and well-built, as well as unusually young for Harley riders. There were maybe in their late twenties or early thirties. They all had facial hair, but no long beards. Strangest of all, there were no patches or badges on their jackets indicating which biker club they belonged to. They didn't seem to belong to any. Were they nomads, perhaps? Driving from town to town until they found a club?

One of the bikers waved at her and Bianca came back over with a notebook and pen in hand, ready to take their orders. In fact, their appearance wasn't what was strangest about them: it was their att.i.tude. They were unfailingly courteous as she took their orders, even thanking her.

The leader even gave her a friendly smile, as he gave his order. She caught a curious glint in his eye, as she turned to leave. So, she stole another glance at him as she gave the order to the cook.

The leader had a head of shoulder-length, brown hair and a beard that was finely trimmed and groomed. His blue eyes were expressive and a daredevil twinkle sparkled in their depths. He also had a bad boy smirk that played about his lips. Having such rough-edged men share a table at her diner was a little off-putting. Plus, something about their handsome leader made her feel strange, but so far they hadn't caused any trouble.

Bianca served the nomad bikers the scrambled eggs and pancakes they'd ordered. Then, she quickly got busy, as more customers arrived for breakfast. All morning, though, she couldn't keep her eyes off the bikers and their das.h.i.+ng leader. She stole another glance at the leader and he gave her a smile in response. She quickly averted her gaze in embarra.s.sment, opting to stare at the counter.

Her reflection in the little mirror behind the counter caught her eye and she began examining herself a little self-consciously. She had dark hair with a few blond highlights streaking through it. She kept it tied back in a ponytail to keep it out of the way. She had soft brown eyes with a b.u.t.ton nose underneath. Overall, she was quite pretty.

Bianca sighed wistfully. Her lack of a love life was the least of her problems right now. She had a business to run. She worked long hours, seven days a week; so, there was no room or time for a boyfriend. Serving customers, collecting money and tips, cleaning up afterwards, and paying taxes and bills took up most of her time. Plus, she usually had to pay for repairs after visits by the Merrick crew.

The familiar roar of a 4x4 made Bianca's heart sink and she cursed herself for jinxing the moment. The Merrick boys' pickup truck pulled into the parking lot and the young thugs jumped out, swaggering towards the diner. They barged in like the bosses they thought they were. Their conversation was so loud, it made the bikers turn around to see what all the fuss was about. The Merrick gang didn't give the bikers a second glance, as they helped themselves to a spare booth by the window.

Resigning herself to the inevitable, Bianca collected some cups and a new pot of coffee onto a tray. Then, she went out to serve it to her least favorite customers. If she went through the motions of serving them drinks and putting up with their abuse, maybe they'd leave without causing any damage or hurting any of the other patrons. She hoped for the same thing every time the Merrick boys came around, but it seldom came to pa.s.s.

"More watery coffee that tastes like p.i.s.s," remarked one of the Merrick boys, disdainfully. "f.u.c.king great start to the morning."

Bianca ignored him and poured each of the hooligans some coffee, as she tried not to listen to them comment on her plump b.r.e.a.s.t.s. They also joked about some poor kid they'd fleeced the previous night. It wasn't exactly heartening to know that she wasn't the only one who had to endure abuse from them.

"You boys want anything to eat with your coffee?" Bianca asked them woodenly, knowing that the answer would be more abuse and insults.

"You know what? I actually am pretty hungry this morning," Chad Merrick replied. "Go get us some pancakes and sausages."

Bianca didn't bother to scribble their order down on her notebook. She just walked away to the kitchen to tell the cook.

"And hurry it up, b.i.t.c.h," Chad shouted after her with a domineering smirk.

"The only b.i.t.c.h I see is the one ordering the food," a husky voiced remarked, casually.

The insult was like a needle to Chad Merrick's balloon of an ego. His face turned red with outrage and the smirk vanished from his face. Chad looked up to see the leader of the nomad bikers' staring him down from the opposite booth, waving so there would be no doubt as to who had just insulted him.

"What the f.u.c.k did you just say to me?" Chad demanded. His voice faltered with rage, as he stood up to confront the biker.

"I was just saying you should show a bit more respect for the lady who's waiting on you." The nomad leader stood up and squared off against the hooligan leader. Before long, their respective crews stood behind them, as well.

"She does whatever she's f.u.c.king told," Chad Merrick shot back. "I'm more interested in the fact that you just called me a b.i.t.c.h. It makes me think you're not from round here, since no one in this c.r.a.ppy old town would be stupid enough to do that."

"Oh, not only did I just call you a b.i.t.c.h," the nomad leader retorted, and then, quick as lightning, he rabbit-punched Chad Merrick in the face, knocking him off his feet and into the arms of his crew, "I think I just proved it, too."

Bianca had stopped on her way to the kitchen to watch the confrontation unfold. Now, she stood frozen with horror. The biker just signed the demolition warrant of her precious business. The fight would smash her shop to bits; but, even if they didn't end up fighting, the Merrick boys would surely return to smash the place up out of spite. This time there would be no cash to compensate for the damage or to buy her silence. Fear of further reprisals would buy that all on its own.

Chad Merrick scrambled to his feet, seething with fury from the blow. Blood was trickling from both his nostrils and he looked ready to fight. So did the nomad bikers, all of whom raised their fists and prepared to hurt someone. The Merrick boys tried to look tough with a slim six to five numerical advantage, but it was clear who would win if a fight broke out. The nomad bikers were clearly bigger and stronger than their adolescent opponents. Some of them sported knuckledusters, too; but, the Merrick boys had only their bare fists.

"You're dead," Chad Merrick hissed, still visibly smarting from the blow, both to his face and to his pride. "You hear me, you're all f.u.c.king dead!"

"I'm standing right here, p.u.s.s.y," said the nomad leader. He smirked and spread his hands out, inviting Chad to hit him back.

"Enough, all of you!" Bianca shouted, finally deciding to intervene before it was too late. "If you're going to fight, do it outside!"

"No one's talking you, b.i.t.c.h!" Chad snapped at her. That statement earned him a second punch from the nomad leader, straight in the face again.

"What'd I just say about showing some respect to the lady?" the nomad leader inquired coolly, wagging his finger at the bloodied hooligan.

At this point, the Merrick gang's resolve faltered. Chad's nose was bleeding profusely from both nostrils and it was clear that they weren't going to win this fight. Slowly, they backed towards the front door, while one of them took the initiative to grab a handful of napkins on the way out.

"We'll be back!" Chad warned. His voice sounded a lot less threatening with his nose full of blood. "My dad will have you all locked up for a.s.sault and then we'll f.u.c.king get you! You'll see! Then, we will smash this f.u.c.king diner to pieces!"

They made a hasty retreat from the diner, covering their withdrawal with a continuous barrage of face-saving curses and threats. The other patrons of the diner watched in a mixture of shock, fear, and relief, as the terrors of the town climbed into their 4x4 and sped away with their tails between their legs. No cheering or whooping could be heard, as they faded into the distance.

On the other hand, there was a cautious round of applause for the nomad bikers, as the other customers processed the fact that someone had finally stood up to the Merrick gang. The bikers accepted the adulation with modest smiles, albeit tinged with an element of self-satisfaction. Then, they returned to their seats, all except for the leader who went behind the counter to speak with Bianca.

"Sorry about that. No one deserves to be spoken to like that."

"Thanks a lot." Bianca didn't sound nor feel particularly grateful, as she furtively arranged things behind the counter.

"Are you ok?"

"Do you have any idea what you've done?" Bianca hissed at him. She tried to keep her voice down to avoid attracting the attention of the other customers in the diner, but her anger was evident.

"I just kicked out some p.r.i.c.k who was abusing you, that's what I did," he replied, confused by her apparent ingrat.i.tude.

"No one ever talks that way to the Merrick boys," she shot back angrily, "and they certainly don't punch them in the face! If you so much flinch in a way they don't like, they'll trash whatever they can, just out of spite. You think they were joking when they threatened to smash this place up? They've done it before and not just to my business."

"Are people that afraid of them?"

"They think they own this town and they practically do. Chad Merrick, the guy you floored, his father is the town commissioner. So, the local cops can never prove anything against them and they can get away with pretty much anything they want." Bianca fought back tears, then she recomposed herself and rubbed her moist eyes. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to sound ungrateful. It's just that the Merrick boys have been terrorizing me for years; me and everyone else unlucky enough to cross paths with them. The only thing that makes the abuse worthwhile is the cash they pay for the damage they cause. This diner is my life, if they decide to tear it down because I'm rude to them, they'll do it; but, there'll be no cash payout afterwards."

The nomad leader listened with an impa.s.sive face; but, Bianca could see the incredulity in his expressive blue eyes. It was tinged with a spark of righteous anger, since part of him clearly didn't believe that a pack of glorified goons could have the entire town under their thumb.

"Ask anyone here if you don't believe me," Bianca added, in an attempt to tackle his doubts.

"What if someone took care of this little problem, permanently?" The incredulity in his eyes had turned to righteous fury.

"You're a nomad biker and I'm just an owner of a small town diner, surviving from paycheck to paycheck. Why would you care about helping me?"

The biker took an a.s.sertive step forward until he was only a few inches from Bianca. She didn't move back or flinch, as he looked down into her eyes with his deep blue gaze. Something about those eyes mesmerized her.

He held her gaze for several seconds before finally replying, "I exacerbated this mess for you. I'll be the one to make sure it gets cleaned up. A pretty girl like you shouldn't have to live in fear all her life from those goons."

Bianca tried to answer, but found herself at a loss for words. He was even more attractive up close. He looked every inch the quintessential heartthrob with his finely groomed beard, his powerful torso, and his alluring blue eyes. His mouth had a perpetual smile playing at the corners, somehow smug and self-deprecating at the same time. Just from being so close to him, Bianca realized that her heart was thumping with curious excitement.

"Well, that sounds awfully chivalrous of you," she finally answered, trying to harden her tone into something more serious, "but you can't deal with every problem that comes your way by punching it in the face."

"True," he conceded, "that's where a crowbar comes in handy."

"Very funny," she snorted. Her amus.e.m.e.nt vanished when she saw the crowbar hanging from his belt and she realized that he wasn't joking.

"You wouldn't happen to know where the commissioner's office is, would you?" he casually asked.

"It's the big brown building with the US flag on it."

"Thanks," he said with a smile.

"Wait!" she called after him as he turned to leave. Again, she found herself at a loss for words. Was she going to wish him luck or ask him not to go? Or maybe tell him to get on his bike and never come back? "I didn't get your name," she said eventually.

"Braden," he replied, as he pulled out a wad of cash and left it on the counter. "I'll see you later, Bianca."