Then we're back up, and everything is as it was. Super fast, super terrifying and yet convincing me that the moment we get home I'm going to drag all the guys back to Bear's room and get naked. Adrenaline is a hell of a drug.
“What the fu—” roars Viking just as his bike makes a loud clanking sound.
Hawk breaks so suddenly, I'm forced hard into his back, and the rear wheel actually lifts off the ground. This time there's no exhilaration in my scream, just terror.
At the same time, Viking's bike breaks apart. The world slows down as I watch in horror as most of his bike goes one way, carrying Viking along with it, while the back wheel and some metal parts take off in a separate direction. The bike frame slams into the asphalt with a screech that makes nails on chalkboard sound like pleasant birdsong. Sparks fly, angry white and orange, as it's dragged forward by its own momentum. His bike chain is thrown backwards, so close I hear the whoosh as it shoots past me when I duck.
God, please let him be okay.
He throws himself off the bike as it tips, rolling clear, but going round and round like a log on a hill until he finally comes to a stop against the opposite curb. The bike pops onto the sidewalk and crashes against the wall of an apartment building with a horrible sound that makes me wince.
As the bikes are stopped and engines killed, the world goes silent. Just the bike wreck on one side, the front wheel still spinning lazily, the back wheel off to the other, and Viking on the ground between them.
Lying still.
I throw myself off the back of the bike and start running. The other guys are right there with me.
“Viking!”
Bear's there first. He's huge, so you'd think he'd be slow, but he's got long legs and a lot of power. The rest of us aren't far behind, though. “Fuck, are you okay? What the fuck happened?”
Viking sits up and shakes his head. He's alive. His denim cut and jeans protected him some, but his torso’s all scraped up. He looks like he's been run over a shredder, bleeding from cuts all over. I think they're superficial, luckily, but his mouth is pinched tight. I bet they sting like crazy.
I touch his chest gently, making sure to avoid any obvious cuts. His heart thunders under my palm, even if he's keeping a calm exterior. “We need to get you back to the club and clean you up. Maybe call Doc.”
“What the fuck is this?” snaps Snark, who's gone to pick up the back wheel. “This looks… cut.”
“It looks what?” Suddenly Bear's living up to his name in a whole new way. This isn't the fuzzy teddy bear who watches over Izzy. This is a furious grizzly that discovered a hunter aiming his gun at its cubs. “Someone sabotaged Viking's bike?” He looks around, expression twisted in a murderous rage.
I always thought of him as the protector of the bunch, but I never quite realized exactly what that truly meant.
“Make sure,” says Hawk quietly from behind me. That tone I've heard for, but never so tight, never so measured, and never so deadly. “Because if it is, we've definitely got a snake on the inside of the wall.”
Oh God.
Viking pushes himself to his feet. He winces as he straightens, but beyond that, he seems completely unconcerned that his torso is still oozing blood. “Is Dario behind this? Because no one fucking messes with our shit inside our own club.”
I should show them the messages. I really should, but they're so furious right now, I don't dare. I'll let them calm down first. It's the only sensible thing to do, right? And then figure out how to move this forward.
But how? Viking was just hurt, because of me. Heck, Hawk was shot because of me.
How long will it continue? Dario won't give up until he's killed all four of them. I'm sure about that. And no matter what they say, that part is my fault.
Snark brings the wheel over to the wrecked bike and crouches, examining where it was attached. “I'll need this back in the garage to make sure, but yeah, it looks like there's fuckery going on. It's time to have Eagle-eye call Church. If there's a traitor, we need to fucking root it out.”
“And kill it,” Hawk adds.
Bear gets on his bike and rolls it until it's facing back the way we came. “Get on. You can be my old lady back to the club. Then we come back with the van to pick up the parts. We'll get her fixed.”
“Old lady. Hah. Fuck you,” says Viking bitterly, but he climbs on.
“Wait,” I ask as I get on behind Hawk. “Is that what it means to ride on the back?”