Chapter 6 Lexi
The sharp crack of gunfire shatters the evening calm. Icy fingers of fear grip my heart. I crack the bedroom door and peek out into the dimly lit hallway. As my pulse races, the thudding in my chest syncs with each shot fired. Reaper’s heavy boots thunder across the wooden floor as he runs into the living room. His tense silhouette ratchets up my fear. Drawing his gun, he’s ready for a fight, which is why I’ll never be able to call this place home.
As soon as he’s out the door, I go back into the bedroom and walk to the window. Through the dingy glass, I spot Reaper dashing toward the bar and grill. He throws himself behind a stack of discarded wooden pallets, while bullets bite into the wood where he was just standing. Men in dark leather jackets emblazoned with the emblem of a rival MC hide behind the corners of the bar and grill.
My breath hitches as I glance at Ace’s sleeping form. The thought of something happening to him because of this life slices through me sharper than any bullet could. I’ve got to get him out of here, away from this place forever.
Shaking off the paralysis of fear, I dart out of the room, down the hall, and into the kitchen. The window over the sink frames a view of the river. Its dark waters promise an escape route, but it’s flowing too fast. I wouldn’t be able to maneuver a kayak in the current.
Out back, it’s eerily silent, a stark contrast to the war zone I’ve just witnessed. This is it—my chance. My fingers clench into fists at my sides. Reaper’s embroiled in his club’s battles, the very reason why I can’t let Ace grow up amid the violence and vendettas. We’re not safe here. We never were.
A surge of determination floods through me, mingling with the adrenaline that’s already set my nerves on fire. Ace needs a life free from the roar of motorcycles and the stench of blood and oil. I need to protect him and give him a chance to do something that doesn’t involve looking over his shoulder. I never want the harsh cadence of gunfire to become a lullaby for my son.
As I walk back through the living room toward the hall, I glance at the front door. Reaper’s out there risking his life, and for what? The man is both a guardian and a danger, a tempest who kept me anchored to this life for far too long. I escaped once before, and it’s time to run again. For Ace. For a future that doesn’t include the deafening echo of shots fired in anger.
I dart back to the bedroom, my heart jackhammering against my aching ribs. Ace is sitting up in bed, his little brow furrowed while his eyes are wide with fear. The sight of him, so innocent and frightened by the chaos outside, stabs at me with urgency.
“Baby, we gotta go, now,” I say, scooping him up.
He looks at me, confusion clouding his eyes—the same eyes that always remind me of Reaper. “Where, Mommy?”
“Somewhere safe,” I reply, bundling him into his light jacket. Thank God he was wearing it during the crash. It’s too thin for nighttime temperatures, but it’ll have to do. His tiny hand finds mine, gripping it with a trust that tears at me. We can’t be here when the next bullet finds its mark.
“Mr. Snuffles!”
“Here.” I grab the bear and hand it to him. “Hold on tight. You don’t want to lose him.”
I sneak a glance down the hallway. It’s clear. With one last look over my shoulder, I open the front door. The air is thick with the residue of gunpowder and fear, but it doesn’t stop me. We slip out unnoticed, the night cloaking our escape.
As I run around the porch toward the rear of the clubhouse, my boots thud on the wooden planks. When we get to the steps off the back porch, we quickly walk down them. The river roars several yards away, a raging beast beneath the moon’s watchful eye. I know better than to try crossing—it would swallow us whole.
“Mommy, it’s dark,” Ace whispers.
“I know, sweetheart. Just hold tight. We have to run. Can you do that for Mommy?”
Without waiting for a response, I grab his hand, and we plunge into the woods. Branches claw at our clothes, while unseen roots threaten to trip us, but we push forward. Every rustle in the underbrush could be friend or foe. I can’t afford to find out which.
Finally, the trees give way, and I see the highway. Cars zip by like shooting stars. The temptation to flag one down is almost irresistible, the promise of a quick escape from this nightmare. But no, it’s too risky. We could be trading one danger for another.
“Are we running more, Mommy?” Ace’s question pulls me from my thoughts, his voice weary.
“Yep, buddy. Just a little farther.” I force cheer into my tone, though my legs are leaden with fatigue.
A red neon motel sign looms in the distance. It’s at least a mile away, but it’s a beacon of temporary refuge from the chaos we just escaped. As I head toward it, Ace’s complaints grow louder. His small body sags with each step.
“Sorry, baby, just a bit more,” I say as cheerfully as I can manage. “Mommy’s tired too, but we’re almost there. There’s a nice warm bed waiting for us inside that motel.”
Ace nods, but his steps are slower now. The road seems endless. The motel’s a mirage that keeps pulling away. But we’ll get there. We have to.
“Let’s pretend we’re on a secret mission,” I whisper to Ace, trying to inject a sense of adventure into our weary trudge. “We have to reach the safe house without the bad guys seeing us.”
Ace perks up a bit. His grip tightens on my hand as he scans the horizon with the seriousness only a seven-year-old can muster.
“Are we spies, Mommy?” His eyes are wide, reflecting the amber glow of the streetlights.
“Exactly,” I say, forcing a smile despite the fear clawing at my insides. “The best spies. Now, quiet as a mouse.”
For a few minutes, we play along, darting from shadow to shadow, but Ace’s little legs can’t keep up with his imagination, and soon, he stumbles, a small whine escaping his lips. “I’m tired, Mommy. Can’t walk.”
“Okay, champ.” My heart clenches at the sight of him, so brave yet so vulnerable.
Bending down, I hoist him into my arms. His body’s heavy against mine, but I can manage his weight until we get to the motel. As I carry him, my muscles ache, and my heart beats wildly. But it doesn’t matter. I’ll do anything to get him to safety.
Finally, after what feels like miles, the motel sign comes into view, its light flickering unsteadily. It’s a rundown place, the sort of spot where nobody asks questions, which is exactly what we need right now. The neon vacancy sign buzzes erratically, casting a reddish hue over the cracked parking lot.
“Here we are, buddy,” I murmur, more to reassure myself than Ace, who’s already half-asleep against my shoulder.
I push open the door to the office. A bell above the door rings sharply, startling me. The elderly clerk sitting behind the desk barely glances up from his magazine, a bored expression on his face. I’m sure he’s seen it all before. I’m just another weary traveler too tired to find better accommodations.
“Room for one night,” I say, keeping my voice steady.
“Need a credit card or cash, and an ID,” he says.
My hands tremble when I hand over my credit card, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
“Room 107. End of the hall,” the clerk grunts, handing me back my card along with a key.
I nod, too exhausted for words, and head to the room with Ace still cradled in my arms.
One foot in front of the other, Lexi. You’ve got this.
I twist the key in the lock, and the door to the motel room swings open. The scent of lemon cleaner hits me, a stark contrast to the musty hallway. Inside, the space is surprisingly clean, almost clinical with its beige walls and nondescript art.
I set Ace down on one of the queen-sized beds. His eyes flutter shut before his head sinks into the pillow. His little fingers tighten around his teddy bear, clinging to it like a lifeline. As he drifts off to sleep, I let out a soft sigh. I never expected any of this to happen. Ace shouldn’t have to suffer because of my past.
I pace the short length of the carpet, my mind racing. A call for help would be a godsend right now, but who can I call? My family? I burned that bridge the day I called out Nathan, my mother’s new husband, for being a creep. His disturbing glances and inappropriate comments about my sixteen-year-old body had finally gone too far.
Of course, my mother refused to believe me when I finally told her. She either couldn’t, or wouldn’t, acknowledge the predatory glint in his eye. She ignored the way he would hug or touch me for far too long. But I felt it, that creeping sensation of prey under scrutiny. No one took me seriously because Nathan hadn’t made his move—yet. I knew it was only a matter of time. Leaving at sixteen, I’d had to lie about my age, adding two years just to find work at bars. It was either that or wait for the inevitable.
Shaking my head, I try to clear away the memories, but they cling like cobwebs. Friends are not an option either. When that second line turned pink and I realized Ace was on his way, I severed ties with everyone who knew me as the girl who laughed a little too loud and drank a little too much. I was a wild child, always ready for a thrill and oblivious to danger. I didn’t bat an eyelid when I found myself in the company of men who wore danger as comfortably as their leather cuts. I thought their darkness would never touch me. Well, it did.
I quit everything cold turkey. The cigarettes. The booze. The late nights. Standing here, in this washed-out room, I realize I’m a stranger to the girl who used to crave chaos. For Ace, I have to be someone else. I’m trying to carve out something good from the mess I made, something stable. But what does a good life look like? How do you rebuild a life from scratch? I thought I was on the right track, at least until Blackstone kicked me out. Jerk.
My gaze wanders back to Ace. He’s the answer, isn’t he? I’ll know what’s right and what’s wrong if I keep him at the forefront of my mind. Anything that will give him a better shot at life is good. Anything that could take that away from him isn’t. I just need to figure out what’s what and go from there.
But as night settles in, wrapping the motel in shadows, doubt creeps in along with the cool air through the thin walls. I tell myself we’ll make it, but fear gnaws at my resolve. What comes next? Where do we go from here?
“Tomorrow,” I whisper, more a promise than a plan. “Tomorrow, we start fresh.”
The neon sign of the motel flickers through the thin curtains, casting a dim glow on the peeling wallpaper. My hands tremble as I perch on the edge of the bed. The sound of Ace’s steady breath is my only comfort.
I can’t stop thinking about Reaper. Did he make it out alive? The memory of gunshots splinters through my thoughts, and a knot tightens in my stomach. I should’ve said something to him, at least goodbye, but there was no time amid the chaos. Guilt gnaws at me, uninvited and persistent. Reaper’s been nothing but protective since the accident, and here I am, using the very danger he defends us against as my ticket out. He’s probably still out there, risking his life, and all I can do is hope he survives.
Sliding off the bed, I pace the cramped room. Why was that rival club targeting Reaper’s club tonight? Could Reaper be right? Could those men have been coming for me? Reaper floated the idea that Blackstone sent someone to run me off the road. Was Reaper onto something? Yesterday, I would have thought it was a ludicrous idea. Now, it’s terrifyingly plausible. If Blackstone is behind this, what would drive him to such extremes?
My phone feels like a brick in my hand as I unlock it. The screen lights up, casting shadows through the darkness in the room. I access my bank app and groan. The numbers glaring back at me are a stark reminder of how little I have to offer my son. A few hundred dollars is all that stands between us and desperation.
I set my phone down and pick up my wallet. Riffling through it, I count the crumpled bills one by one. Twenty-five dollars. It’s not even enough to cover another night here, let alone get us to safety. A sour taste rises in my throat. We’re teetering on the edge of being out of options. With no family to turn to and no friends to call upon, it’s just my boy and me against the world. And somehow, I have to find a way to survive.
I glance toward the bathroom. In the past, whenever I’ve been stuck while trying to figure something out, I’ve taken a shower. Somehow it helps me think more clearly. Also, I’d love to wash away the grime from the accident along with the fear and desperation that clings to me. For just a moment, I entertain the idea of taking a hot shower to help soothe my frayed nerves.
But before I can shed my clothes, a creaking sound catches my attention. The doorknob rattles slightly. I drop my gaze to the light coming through a crack under the door. The stream of light is disrupted in two spots as if someone’s standing outside. Then it hits me, someone is trying to break in.
“Mommy?” Ace’s voice trembles from the bed where he clutches his teddy bear to his chest.
“Shh, baby, we gotta be quiet now,” I whisper. Crossing the room, I scoop him up. The weight of his small body is both a burden to my exhausted body and a reminder of what’s at stake.
I hurry into the bathroom. The cramped space reeks of bleach and false security. Frantic, I shove at the window screen, feeling it give way beneath my fingers. Cool night air rushes in, carrying with it the scent of pine trees and freedom.
“You have to climb out, baby.” My hands shake as I lift Ace, pushing him out into the unknown. “Run to the trees and hide. Don’t come out, no matter what you hear.”
“Mommy?” His eyes, wide pools of innocence, search mine for reassurance.
“Go, Ace. I love you.” It’s a command wrapped in a plea. He nods, scrambling through the opening, while still clinging to that damn teddy bear.
Behind me, the sound of a window breaking and wood splintering sends a fresh wave of terror through me. I pull myself up through the window. I’m half-out, one leg dangling into the abyss, when the bathroom door explodes inward. As I glance back, a hulking shadow fills the doorway. The stench of sweat and malice floods the room. Whoever tried to kill me on the road sent someone else to finish the job.
“Run, Ace!” My scream is a raw burst of terror, slicing through the stillness of the night. I push my body through the small escape route before dropping to the ground.
“Mommy!” His cry is too close. He isn’t running.
As I tumble into the darkness outside, I land on my hands and knees. Scrambling forward, I race toward where Ace is standing. Disoriented and exposed, I frantically prepare to fight, flee, or do whatever it takes to protect my boy.
Behind me, a man’s angry voice shouts, “The bitch and the kid are around back. Cut them off.”
Running at full speed, I grab Ace and toss him over my shoulder. We’re halfway to the woods when two men wearing that rival club’s cuts block our path.
“No,” I whisper, backing up a step.
Looking behind me, I realize I’m doomed. The man from inside the motel room is running toward us. We’re outnumbered and outgunned. There’s no way we’re getting out of this alive.