by Jamie Zakian
***
Otis
Otis parked his truck out front of the clubhouse, and Sasha practically ran down the porch steps. When Ellen and Dez gave chase, he groaned.
“What do you think this is all about?” Candy asked, dropping a half-eaten burger into a paper bag.
“Go jump in Sasha’s truck, the blue one. Try and calm her down.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“I don’t know,” Otis said, even though he had a good idea, “but I’m sure you’ll find out. You’re good at that kinda shit.”
“Okay.” Candy planted a kiss on Otis’s cheek and leapt out of the pickup, sneaking behind the garage.
***
Sasha
Sasha had her key in hand before the truck’s cab graced her view. The pound of her temples did little to drown out the buzz of voices that chased her or the thoughts of jamming the rig’s key in her mother’s neck.
“Just wait!” Ellen shouted, louder than Dez’s half-assed excuses of drunken mistakes.
Ellen tugged at Sasha’s jacket, but Sasha yanked herself away without missing a single one of her rushed steps.
“This isn’t what it sounds like,” Ellen said, scurrying to keep up with Sasha’s pace.
The bullshit had piled so deep that Sasha had to stop wading through it. She stopped in a skid of gravel, bouncing her glare between her mother and Dez. “You guys fucked, right? While I was out on the road?”
When both their eyes dropped, a bit of vomit crept up the back of Sasha’s throat.
“You’re disgusting,” Sasha said, ducking to meet her mother’s gaze. “Did you even want him, or did you just want to take something from me?”
No answer, no surprise. Her mother only spoke in insults and comebacks, but they wouldn’t help here. Nothing in the whole wide world would help here.
“I’ll take this run, ‘cause I fix my fuckups. But when I get back, I’m packing my shit and I’m gone.”
“No,” Ellen yelled, “you’re not.”
Her mother had the balls to grab onto her arm, and she shoved the bitch, hard. Of course, Dez caught his lover before she could land on her ass, spoiling any chance of satisfaction.
“I’ll do whatever I goddamn please,” Sasha said, unable to stop the quake of her every limb brought on by revulsion. “You two can go fuck yourselves or each other. I don’t give a shit.”
Dez lunged toward Sasha, and she rocked her fist against his chin.
“Brass knuckles is next,” she said, reaching for the truck’s door.
“I’m sorry, Sasha.” Dez backed away, his hands up and eyes full of shame. “I’m just…sorry.”
“Yeah. You are.” Sasha climbed into the cab, locked the door, and started the engine. A second to slow her mind would be nice. So would peace on earth, an end to starvation, and a mother who didn’t bone her boyfriend, but nice didn’t belong to people like her.
Sasha glanced across the cab, yelping as Candy waved from the passenger seat.
“Hey,” Candy said, like she was at the bar and not skulking inside Sasha’s truck. “What’s going on out there?”
“Get out,” Sasha yelled, grinding the shifter into first.
Candy recoiled, grabbed the handle of her door, then sank into her seat. “No.”
“I might not come back,” Sasha said, easing off the clutch.
“Whatever.”
“Fine.” Sasha drove from the lot, past the clubhouse, and out the front gate without a single glance back.
“What happened?” Candy asked, slinking as far away as possible.
“Didn’t you hear?”
“No. I just got here and saw—”
“Dez fucked my mother.” Tears blurred the road in front of Sasha, but she blinked them back.
“Eww,” Candy cried out. “I don’t think so.”
“Ahh no, really. They did.”
“Oh.” Candy wiggled in her seat, glancing at Sasha. “Your mother probably raped him at gunpoint.”
Sasha snickered, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. She didn’t think pain like this existed, never imagined an ache that could slice her chest so deep, squeeze her heart and burn the air from her lungs.
“She takes everything from me.” Sasha looked across the wide cab at one of the things her mother had stripped from her life. “Candy, will you—”
Tires squealed, the steering wheel shook, and the rig slid sideways. Sasha gripped the steering wheel with both hands, flooring the brake. Her palms slipped from sweat and vibration, but she held tight to the steering wheel, veering the truck’s front end away from the twenty-foot drop off just beyond the road’s edge. The trailer started to jackknife, jolting the cab before the brakes locked up. In a scream of rubber peeling onto road, the truck lurched to a stop.
“Oh my God,” Candy yelled, still hugging her armrest. “What happened?”
“I don’t know.” Sasha looked into her side mirror, a long white trailer filling her view. She glanced at the passenger side, and the door flew open. A shotgun’s barrel filled Sasha’s gaze then white light. Reflex snapped her eyes to a close, and warm chunks pelted her face. The blast of a shotgun echoed off the hills, ringing in Sasha’s ears, but she still heard the most sickening thud.
Her entire body shook, jarring her eyes open. The body heaped beside her didn’t look like Candy, not with half its head blown off. If it wasn’t for those incomparable legs, which twitched against the truck’s shifter, Sasha would have never known her first love lay dead on the floor. She reached out, and a pink clump oozed from shards of skull, slapping onto the rubber mat. A shriek trickled out her mouth. Red splatters of blood surrounded her, covering her arms, clothes.
Sasha shrank back, and her door opened. A large hand latched onto her jacket and yanked. She fumbled for the door, but solid ground came fast and hard. Rocks dug into Sasha’s side, her head bouncing off the pavement. She rolled onto her back, peering up as the butt of a gun crashed down.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Dez
Dez stood in the middle of the lot, jiggling his arm, but his fist wouldn’t break free. “Why do you have to be such a cunt?” Although he looked at Ellen, the statement was meant for himself.
“This is your fault,” Ellen shouted. She stormed up to his face then backed off. Smart woman. She must have figured out his tell because he was getting ready to swing.
Ellen lifted her finger but didn’t dare step close enough to wag it in Dez’s face. “If you didn’t run in my office, flashin’ your shit—”
“Do you even hear yourself?” Dez rushed forward, his hands hovering over Ellen’s neck. “Nobody wants your position, this club. I just wanted to keep Sasha safe, with me.”
His rage surged with such fury that when he heard a high-pitch screech, he thought he’d actually blown a gasket. Then a gunshot wafted up the mountain. Ellen’s expression changed from one of anger to terror, and Dez’s heart skipped a beat.
“Sasha,” Ellen said, and Dez took off running.
By the time he reached the front gate, his legs burned. He slowed to a jog when Vinny’s pickup sped down the compound, fishtailed out the front gate, and skid to a stop beside him.
“Get in,” Otis yelled from the passenger side, pointing to the back.
Dez jumped into the bed of the truck, holding tight as Vinny floored the gas. Part of him didn’t want to see what lay around the bend. It wasn’t real if he didn’t see it. This way, he could chalk it up to a silly accident. Sasha hit a deer and had to put the poor creature out of its misery. It wasn’t even her, just some assholes hunting nearby. Dez held hope, but the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach deepened with every passing second. Then he saw it. The backend of a tractor-trailer spread sideways across the narrow road.
Vinny locked up the brakes, and Dez leapt from the back of the pickup. His feet worked double-time to keep his face from eating pavement, crunching asphalt in search of grip. One glimpse. He just needed one glimpse of Sasha, but
the wide trailer butting up to the steep mountain hid the cab from view.
With only one route open, Dez ran to the passenger side. A blood-streaked leg hung out the open door. Crimson droplets seeped to a puddle on the ground, only a taste of the red splatters that painted the inside of the semi.
Otis crept toward the body hanging half out the door, slipping on the pools of blood that painted the road. “Candy,” he choked, grabbing her limp hand.
A pain-filled cry erupted from Otis’s mouth, breaking Dez from a red-tinged stupor. He tore his stare from a blown open skull, backing away from the pink clumps that slopped to the ground.
“Where’s Sasha?” Vinny asked, rising on his toes to peer inside the truck.
Dez scanned the empty road ahead while hurrying around the front of the rig. That tiny piece of hope within him roared into full-fledged expectation. It all shattered when he stepped beside an empty driver’s seat. A dream, where Sasha sat against the mountainside and waited for his embrace, gone.
“Fuck,” Dez yelled into the gray sky above.
“She’s probably okay,” Vinny said, scanning the truck’s step then a small red puddle at his feet. “There’s not enough blood here for her to be…We’ll get her back.”
“Get her back!” Dez grabbed onto Vinny’s jacket. He didn’t want to but couldn’t stop himself. “From where, who?”
Vinny wrenched himself from Dez’s grasp, marching back to the passenger side. “Otis?”
Otis didn’t move. His eyes hung low as he caressed the back of Candy’s hand, the only place that wasn’t stained in blood.
“I didn’t even know her real name,” Otis said in a near whisper.
“Janice.” Vinny placed his hand on Otis’s shoulder. “Janice Holden.”
An engine revved, and Dez pulled his gun from its holster, stepping in front of Vinny.
“It’s Ellen’s Chevelle,” Otis said, dropping Candy’s hand and walking away.
Ellen ran around the back of the trailer and slid to a stop. “Oh my God. Is she…?”
“That’s Candy’s blood,” Vinny said, rushing to Ellen’s side. “Sasha’s not here.”
Dez teetered on the verge of madness. The world should be in flames. People should be screaming and gagging on their own entrails until Sasha returned to his arms. A frenzy rushed in, forcing out the shreds of rational thought. Dez pushed past Otis and seized Ellen by the wrist, twisting. “Where is she? Who took her?”
“Back off, man,” Vinny yelled, shoving Dez away and stepping between them.
“All the front tires are flat,” Dez shouted, pointing to the blood-spattered Mack truck behind him. “Someone laid down a spike strip, blew Candy’s fucking head off just to get to Sasha. Who?”
Ellen staggered back. Her hip bumped Otis, and he didn’t budge, but she kept walking backward. “Come on. I know where Sasha is.”
***
Sasha
Light filtered in, bringing with it a throb that pounded thoughts into sharp flashes of jumbled shapes. Sasha squeezed her eyes closed. She longed to return to the dark, where crushing pain didn’t plague her head and warm streaks weren’t running down her neck.
“Hey, little girl,” a deep voice echoed over the pound of her head.
A slap rocked Sasha’s face to the side, spreading razor-tipped prickles beneath her skin. She opened her eyes, and a violent glare blurred into focus. For a second, she thought a mirror sat in front of her. Then she glimpsed a smile, cruel, rough, far from those in her arsenal of expressions.
“Dante,” Sasha said with a groan.
Dante stood so close, close enough to strangle, but Sasha’s arms wouldn’t move. Her wrists chaffed, burned. She sat up straight, jolting forward. Ropes held her to a metal chair, which refused to move from the concrete ground. A belt of laughter flowed over her growl. Strands of twine, the only thing keeping her from crushing Dante’s windpipe, and they wouldn’t hold for long.
“I’ve waited a long time for this,” Dante said, wiping a smudge of blood from Sasha’s cheek.
Sasha turned her head away, slanting back. “What? To tie me to a chair?”
“To look into your eyes.”
Her stare veered to Dante, warping to match the vicious thoughts in her mind. “Do you see death?”
Dante took a step back, dropping his cocky leer. “Yeah, I do. It reminds me of your mother, the way I knew her. Except for the brown eyes and that wavy black hair of yours. If I remember correctly, your dad was a blond with bright blue eyes. Just like Ellen.”
A subtle hint, which Sasha chose to ignore. Instead, she worked at the scratchy rope pinching her skin.
“Not very polite, is she?” A voice rang out from behind her.
She froze, peeking over her shoulder. The typical biker douchebag, with his cheap leather jacket and scuzzy hair, only held her glare for a second. It was the walls, a wide bay door, and hanging light fixtures that drew her interest.
“We’re in my warehouse,” Sasha said, letting loose a tiny chuckle. “You dumb motherfuckers. What’s wrong, did you have a little fire at your place?”
The back of a hand struck Sasha’s face, loosening the ropes just a tad.
“So ridged,” the shitsack beside Sasha sneered.
Another man, just as ugly, crept up on her other side. “It’s ‘cause this bitch never had a real man, just faggot truckers.” The guy ran his hand across Sasha’s chest, slopping his tongue in her ear. She’d have to boil her skin after she stripped the flesh from these vile wastes of space.
Both men hovered over Sasha, groping and tugging at her shirt as Dante looked away. If rage didn’t burn so hot, she’d feel sick right now.
“You wanna see what real men can do, honey?” the asshole squeezing her breast said.
Sasha’s teeth damn near chipped under the pressure of her clenched jaw. She curved her stare to Dante, who looked as grossed out as she felt.
“Stop!” Dante stomped forward, and the creeps scuttled away from Sasha.
“What the fuck, Dante? She wants it, I can tell.”
“That’s my fucking kid, asshole,” Dante yelled.
Sasha looked up, glaring at Dante. She’d been waiting for that, hoping it wouldn’t be spoken out loud but still waiting. He didn’t dare cast a glance her way.
“Sorry, boss. I didn’t know.”
“You’re not my father,” Sasha said in a near growl. “Charles Ashby was my father, you sick fuck.”
“See, little girl, that’s why I had to strap you down.” Dante circled behind Sasha, resting his hands on her shoulders. “You’re a wild pony, and I’ve been kicked enough.”
“Whatever game you’re playing, you won’t win. My mother would hit this place with a rocket launcher with me inside just to get you.” Sasha glanced over her shoulder, catching the fear that decorated Dante’s face. “Tell you what,” she said, tugging at the ropes on her wrists. “If you let me go, I won’t stab you in the face. No promises for your buddies.”
Dante’s chuckle iced Sasha’s veins. Now she’d make chop meat of all their ugly mugs.
“It’s my turn for custody, little girl. The clubhouse, that property, all them connections. They belong to you, and you belong to me now.” Dante slid his hand down Sasha’s arms, bringing his lips to her cheek. “Didn’t you know saint Ashby left it to you? It was the only reason we let him believe you were his.”
The feel of Dante’s hand on her skin, though light, pressed her body into the chair. She wiggled out from under Dante’s grip. A mistake, because he moved right in front of her to stare into her eyes.
“I would’ve came for you sooner, right after I killed Charlie, but Ellen held guardianship over you. Now that you’re of age—”
Sasha drove the tip of her boot into Dante’s shin, grinning as he cried out. “I won’t do shit for you.”
“You already are, little girl.” Dante hopped back, rubbing his leg. “You’re my bait. When Ellen storms up this mountain with her crew, the men I
got hidden in the woods are gonna pick ‘em off, one by one.”
Sasha flung her body from side to side, failing to free herself from the tight ropes that bound her to a metal chair. “The second I get loose, you’re all dead.”
A fist cracked Sasha’s cheek, launching her into the armrest of the chair and sliding the ropes down her wrist. One, maybe two more hits and she’d be free. Free to grab the knife inside her boot. Free to slash and carve until sweet, sticky blood coated every stitch of her flesh.
Sasha rolled her head to the man who just cracked her jaw and smiled, even though it felt like chewing on glass.
“You hit like a little bitch,” she sneered, spitting a wad of blood to the floor at his feet.
The large man, and his giant fist, turned to Dante. Sasha looked at the man who claimed to be her father, standing by to watch her get beat. The scenario fit, for her family anyway.
“Not the face,” Dante said, inching farther away.
Sasha’s heart jumped into her throat. Out of nowhere, for no sane reason, she sensed the baby inside her. Before she could yell out, knuckles flew toward her stomach. She hunched down, taking the blow to her chest.
In a blustery rush of fire, the wind left Sasha’s lungs. She gasped for air, but only drops made it past the blaze behind her ribcage. A haze took her stare down, and she saw sneakers with neon green trim. Some real man this asshole was, wearing sneakers not even a punk would be caught dead in. Sasha slammed the heel of her combat boot on top the guy’s foot, twisting.
“Ah!” He hopped back, glaring, and Sasha blew a kiss.
His face turned beet-red. The jab at his ridiculous male pride struck harder than all the other damage Sasha had inflected while tied to a metal chair.
Just as Sasha hoped, a fist barreled her way. Instead of bracing, she lifted her chin to gain full momentum.
A brick wall hammered Sasha into darkness. It had to be a brick wall, since punches don’t come that solid. Somewhere under the buzz that vibrated her brain, voices shouted. There should be gravel digging into her skin. Chewy should be holding Vinny back as he screamed her name. Where was Vinny?