1. Jade #2
“I could snap your neck right here,” he says conversationally. “Right now. My brothers would help me bury you in the woods, and no one would ever find you. Mason would forget you existed within six months. Kids are resilient like that.”
“Let go,” I manage to whisper.
He holds on for three more heartbeats. Long enough to make his point. Then he releases me with a little shove that sends me stumbling back against my car door.
I gasp, hand flying to my throat, coughing.
Tyler steps back, spreading his arms wide. “You want to leave? Go ahead. Leave. But Mason stays in town. You take him anywhere, and I’ll file for custody. I’ll tell them you’re unstable. Unfit. That you abandoned your kid to run off and fuck bikers.”
“You ARE a biker, you hypocritical piece of?—”
“And you think any judge in this county is gonna give custody to a broke bartender with a shitty apartment over a man with a steady job and family connections?” He’s smiling now. He’s enjoying this. “My dad’s got friends. Lawyers. People who owe him favors. You wouldn’t stand a chance.”
He’s probably right. Tyler’s father has been VP of a rival club for twenty years. Tyler throws it around like it means something, like it makes him important instead of just the disappointing son of a man who stopped trying to fix him years ago.
But judges don’t know that. They just see connections, money, and a single mom who can barely keep the lights on.
I fumble behind me for the car door handle, get it open, and practically fall into the driver’s seat.
Tyler leans down, one hand on the roof, the other on the doorframe, caging me in.
“That’s what I thought. You’re not going anywhere.
You’re stuck with me, baby.” He reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, a gesture that would be sweet from anyone else.
“Mason’s my insurance policy. Long as I’ve got him, I’ve got you. You remember that.”
He slams my door hard enough to rattle the window.
I watch him walk back toward the clubhouse, laughing with Danny and two other guys who followed him out. They stand in a loose semicircle near the entrance, blocking the main exit from the parking lot. Watching me.
Danny calls out, “You have a good night now, Jade! Drive safe!”
Laughter echoes across the gravel.
My hands shake so badly that it takes three tries to get the key in the ignition.
Turn it. Come on.
The engine coughs. Wheezes. Doesn’t catch.
“No. No no no, please?—”
I try again, pumping the gas pedal, silently begging whatever god watches over broke single mothers with terrible taste in men.
Nothing.
Through my windshield, I can see Danny saying something to the others. They’re grinning. One of them pulls out his phone, taps something, and shows the screen to his buddies. They laugh harder.
They knew.
Tyler sabotaged my car. Of course he did. Probably had Danny do it this afternoon while I was at work, maybe loosened something, disconnected something, just enough to strand me here.
Insurance, he said.
I turn the key again, harder this time, like force of will can make the difference.
The engine catches. Rough and uneven, making a grinding sound that means something expensive is broken, but running.
I throw the car into reverse, tires spitting gravel, and swing toward the back exit. The service road that leads out to the highway, the long way, the route that takes me past the industrial park and the abandoned quarry.
Danny and his friends start toward their bikes, but I’m already moving, foot pressed to the floor, my Honda shaking and rattling like it’s held together with duct tape and hope.
It probably is.
Rain starts as I turn onto the service road. Just a few drops at first, scattered and fat, hitting my windshield with soft thuds. By the time I reach the main road, it’s coming down in sheets.
Perfect. There’s a storm. Of course.
My wipers can barely keep up, sweeping back and forth in a losing battle against the deluge. The car pulls hard to the right, fighting me every time I try to straighten out. That grinding noise gets louder, accompanied now by a high-pitched squeal that makes my teeth ache.
I grab my phone from the passenger seat, trying to unlock it with my thumb while keeping my eyes on the road. I need to call my sister.
The phone rings the moment I dial her number.
“Come on, Lin. Pick up,” I mutter after the third ring.
“You’ve reached Linda! Sorry I missed you, leave a message and I’ll call you back!”
Her cheerful voicemail greeting, recorded back when she still thought voicemail greetings should be perky.
Beep.
“Lin, it’s me. I’m coming to get Mason. Tonight.
Right now. Don’t—” My voice cracks, and I swallow hard, trying to pull it together.
“Don’t let anyone near him until I get there, okay?
No one. Especially not Tyler or anyone from the club.
I’ll explain everything when I see you, but I need you to promise me. Keep him safe. I’m on my way.”
I end the call and toss the phone back onto the passenger seat.
Headlights fill my rearview mirror.
I press harder on the gas, but my car is already struggling. The speedometer needle shakes at fifty-five, and the whole vehicle feels like it might vibrate itself apart.
The headlights behind me get closer. I can’t see the vehicle through the rain, just the twin beams growing brighter and brighter until they’re all I can see in my mirrors.
“Back off,” I mutter, checking for room to move over.
The road is narrow here, flanked by ditches on both sides, trees pressing in close. No shoulder to speak of. Nowhere to go.
The vehicle behind me moves into the left lane. For a second, I think they’re just going to pass. Some asshole in a hurry, irritated by my slow, dying car.
Then it swerves right.
Metal shrieks as the vehicle’s front bumper clips my rear quarter panel. My car lurches violently, fishtailing on the wet road. I yank the wheel left, but my right front tire chooses that exact moment to blow.
My equilibrium gives out.
I’m spinning, hydroplaning, rain and headlights and darkness blurring together into a nauseating carousel.
My seat belt locks, cutting into my chest and shoulder.
Something flies off the dashboard and hits the windshield.
My head snaps forward, and my forehead bounces off the steering wheel hard enough to make stars explode across my vision.
Then everything stops.
Rain hammers on the roof. My engine is still running, stuttering and rough, dashboard lights flickering like a strobe. The headlights that forced me off the road are gone, disappeared into the storm like they never existed.
I sit there, hands locked on the steering wheel, trying to remember how to breathe.
My car has spun off into the grass median, with the front end angled back toward the road. When I try to move, pain shoots through my neck and ribs, sharp enough to make me gasp. My forehead throbs where it hit the steering wheel.
Mason.
I have to get to Mason. I have to get him and run before Tyler realizes I actually meant it when I said I was leaving.
I straighten the wheel and put the car in drive. The engine revs, high-pitched and angry. For a second, nothing happens.
Then the tires catch, and the car lurches forward, back onto the pavement.
Something is dragging underneath, metal scraping the asphalt, a sound that makes my teeth ache. The grinding noise from earlier has gotten worse, now accompanied by a rhythmic thumping from the front right wheel. Smoke starts to seep from under the hood, visible even through the rain.
But it’s moving.
Up ahead, maybe a hundred yards, I can see lights. An old gas station, the kind that’s been abandoned for years, its sign dark and the pumps long removed. But there’s an overhang, shelter from the rain. Maybe I can pull in there, call AAA, and figure out my next move.
My phone starts ringing with Linda’s ringtone.
I grab it from where it fell on the passenger floor, fumbling it twice before getting a grip.
“Lin—”
“Jade, what the hell? Your message scared me half to death. What’s going on? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I had an accident, but I’m fine. I’m going to?—”
I’m pulling into the gas station lot now, my one working headlight illuminating cracked concrete and weeds pushing through the pavement.
That’s when I see them.
Men. Seven, maybe eight of them, standing under the overhang in the rain. Motorcycles lined up in a neat row, chrome gleaming wet. A dark van parked off to the side.
They all turn to look at my car as I limp into the lot, my Honda making sounds like it’s dying, smoke billowing from under the hood.
Even through the rain and my cracked windshield, I can see the shapes on their backs.
Cuts. Club colors.
My blood turns to ice.
“Jade? Are you there? Talk to me.”
I can’t answer or move. My foot is still on the gas, and my car is still rolling forward, heading straight for the group of bikers who are now all staring at me.
One of them steps forward. Tall, broad-shouldered, silver hair slicked back from the rain. He raises one hand, signaling me to stop.
I slam on the brakes.
My car shudders to a halt, maybe twenty feet from where they stand.
For a long moment, nobody moves. Rain pounds on my roof. Steam hisses from under my hood. Linda’s voice is tinny and distant from my phone. “Jade? JADE? Answer me!”
I want to throw the car in reverse and get out of here, but I can’t stop staring at the men under the overhang. At what they’re doing.
Two of them are holding duffel bags. Another has a metal briefcase open, and even from here I can see stacks of cash inside.
And the guns.
So many guns. Laid out on a folding table like merchandise at a yard sale.
I’ve just driven straight into a gun deal.