“Chapter 5
Big Mike didn’t come alone. Jax and Slim were with him, looking like shadows against the neon green of the motel sign. Mike leaned against the hood of the SUV, a cigar clamped between his teeth.
“”You took your time, Cole,”” Mike said.
Cole stood his ground, Barnaby sitting at his side. He felt the weight of the money in his jacket, a heavy, cold burden.
“”I got the money,”” Cole said. “”And Julian’s not going anywhere for a while.””
“”Is that so?”” Mike walked toward him, his boots crunching on the gravel. He stopped three feet away, his presence overwhelming. “”I heard a scream. Sounded like a man losing something he needed.””
“”He won’t be walking for a few months,”” Cole said. “”He’s done skimming. He’s done everything.””
Mike looked at the motel room door, then back at Cole. He saw the dog. He saw the way Cole was standing—shoulders slumped, eyes dead.
“”And the girl?”” Mike asked.
“”She’s in there,”” Cole said. “”She’s leaving him. Or he’s leaving her. It doesn’t matter.””
“”It matters to the club,”” Mike said. “”She disrespected a Viper. You. If we let that slide, what’s next? People think they can just walk all over us?””
“”She’s a civilian, Mike,”” Cole said, his voice tightening. “”Let her go.””
Mike laughed, a dry, rattling sound. “”A civilian? She was your wife, Cole. She knew the rules. She knew the life. She took the protection, and then she spit in the face of the man who provided it.””
He stepped closer, his face inches from Cole’s. “”Hand over the money.””
Cole reached into his jacket and pulled out the stacks of cash. Mike took them, flipping through the bills with a grunt of satisfaction.
“”Looks like more than ten,”” Mike said.
“”Take it all,”” Cole said. “”Just let them go.””
Mike handed the money to Jax, then turned his attention back to the room. “”Slim, go get the girl.””
“”No,”” Cole said.
He stepped in front of the door, the wrench back in his hand. He wasn’t defending Maya. Not really. He was defending the last piece of himself that wasn’t a Viper. He was defending the dream he’d burned in the trash can.
“”Get out of the way, Cobra,”” Mike said, his voice dropping an octave. “”Don’t make me choose between my best collector and the Code.””
“”The Code is bullshit, Mike,”” Cole said. “”It’s just a way for you to feel like a king in a kingdom of dirt. They’re just people. Broken, stupid people. Let them be.””
Mike sighed. He looked almost sad. “”I liked you, Cole. I really did. You were the only one who actually did the work without complaining.””
He nodded to Jax.
Jax pulled a gun—a small, black 9mm. He pointed it not at Cole, but at Barnaby.
“”Move,”” Jax said, his voice shaking. He was just a kid, but he wanted to prove he belonged.
Cole looked at the dog. Barnaby was looking up at him, his tongue lolling out, completely unaware that he was staring down the barrel of a gun.
“”Don’t,”” Cole whispered.
“”Then move,”” Mike said.
Cole felt the world shrinking. He looked at the motel room, where Maya was probably listening at the door. He looked at the desert, vast and uncaring. He looked at the passports he’d burned, and the life he’d never have.
He stepped aside.
Slim pushed past him into the room. A moment later, Maya was dragged out, her hair a mess, her face streaked with tears. She looked at Cole, her eyes pleading.
“”Cole, please!”” she cried. “”Don’t let them take me!””
Cole didn’t look at her. He looked at the ground.
“”She’s going for a ride,”” Mike said. “”We’ll drop her off at the county line. But she won’t be coming back to Arizona. And as for Julian… well, he’s going to have a little accident with some gasoline.””
“”You said the money would be enough,”” Cole said.
“”It’s enough for you to stay alive,”” Mike said. “”Now get on your bike and go back to the clubhouse. We’ll be there in an hour to celebrate. You’re a hero, Cobra. You protected the brotherhood.””
Mike turned and walked back to the SUV. Slim threw Maya into the backseat. She was screaming now, a high, thin sound that cut through the night like a blade.
Jax lowered the gun but kept his eyes on Cole. “”Sorry, man,”” he muttered.
The SUV roared to life and sped away, kicking up a cloud of dust that tasted of copper and grit.
Cole stood in the empty parking lot. He heard a soft sound from the room—Julian, moaning in pain. And then, the smell of smoke.
Slim had tossed a lit flare onto the bed before he left.
Cole didn’t move. He watched the orange glow begin to flicker in the window. He watched the smoke curl out of the doorway.
He could go in. He could save the man who had ruined his life. He could be the “”good man”” he’d wanted to be in Oregon.
But he wasn’t in Oregon. He was in Arizona. And he was a Viper.
He turned to Barnaby. “”Let’s go.””
The dog followed him to the bike. Cole lifted him into the sidecar and strapped him in. He kicked the engine over, the roar drowning out the sound of the fire and the screams that were probably starting inside.
He didn’t look back. He rode into the dark, toward the clubhouse, toward the only home he had left.
Chapter 6
The celebration at the clubhouse was loud, messy, and smelled of victory. The beer was free, the music was deafening, and everyone wanted to slap Cole on the back.
“”To Cobra!”” Big Mike shouted, raising a glass of whiskey. “”The man who keeps the peace!””
Cole sat in the corner, a beer in front of him that he hadn’t touched. He felt like he was under water. The voices were muffled, the lights too bright.
Miller’s empty chair was still there, across the room. Cole stared at it. He wondered what Miller had thought about in those final moments. Had he thought about the wife who left him? Or had he just thought about how tired he was?
Jax came over and sat next to him. The kid looked pale, his bravado gone now that the sun was coming up.
“”Is it always like that?”” Jax asked, his voice low.
“”Like what?”” Cole asked.
“”The… you know. The feeling after.””
Cole looked at him. He saw a version of himself ten years ago. A kid looking for a family, looking for a place where he didn’t have to be afraid.
“”It doesn’t go away,”” Cole said. “”You just get better at hiding it.””
“”Mike said they dropped the girl off,”” Jax said. “”He said she’s fine. She just… she won’t be bothering us anymore.””
Cole knew what “”fine”” meant in Mike’s vocabulary. He knew Maya was likely buried in a shallow grave somewhere near the border, her wide smile gone forever. He knew Julian was ash and bone in the ruins of Room 114.
He stood up.
“”Where you going?”” Jax asked.
“”Home,”” Cole said.
“”You coming back tomorrow? Mike says we got a run to Tucson.””
Cole didn’t answer. He walked out of the clubhouse.
The morning air was cold, the desert waking up in shades of grey and pale blue. He found Barnaby waiting by the bike, the dog’s tail wagging slowly.
Cole drove back to the ranch house. It looked the same from the outside—small, peeling, lonely. He walked inside.
The smell of Maya’s perfume was still there, a ghost in the hallway. He walked into the kitchen and saw the note he’d crumpled. He straightened it out and laid it on the table.
Stay put.
He walked to the backyard and looked at the burn barrel. The ash was cold now. The passports were gone. The dream was gone.
He went to the bedroom and looked at the rug where Julian’s boots had been. He saw a single, dried clump of red mud. He knelt down and picked it up, crushing it between his fingers until it was just dust again.
He felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. His eyes were as dry as the desert.
He walked back to the kitchen and grabbed a bowl. He filled it with water and set it on the floor for Barnaby.
“”Here you go, boy,”” he whispered.
The dog lapped at the water, the only sound in the silent house.
Cole sat at the table. He looked at his hands—the grease under the fingernails, the scars on his knuckles. These were the hands of a debt collector. These were the hands of a man who belonged to the Vipers.
He realized then that he hadn’t just burned the passports. He’d burned the man who could have used them. The “”Cole”” who wanted a garden and the sound of the ocean was dead. He’d died the moment he stepped aside for Big Mike.
He looked out the window at the rising sun. It was going to be another hot day. Another day of collecting, another day of enforcing the Code, another day of being a dog.
He reached into his pocket and found a small, silver ring. He’d bought it for Maya six months ago, intending to give it to her on the day they left. He hadn’t even shown it to her.
He walked to the window and tossed the ring into the high grass of the backyard. It vanished instantly, swallowed by the desert.
“”Come on, Barnaby,”” Cole said, his voice flat and final. “”We got a run to Tucson.””
He walked out the door, leaving the house empty, the silence settling back into the rooms like a shroud. He got on the bike, the chrome cold against his thighs, and headed toward the highway.
The white lines on the asphalt stretched out before him, a never-ending path to nowhere. He rode past the ruins of the Starlight Motel, the charred remains of Room 114 already being taped off by the police. He didn’t slow down. He didn’t look.
He was Cobra. And he had a debt to pay.”
