Brightest As We Fall

by Cleo Peitsche

  With a gun, there are a lot of things he should have done differently. I definitely would have told him where to find the money if he’d shoved it into my face.

  Crouching, I shift the money from Jason’s backpack, putting it all into the duffel because his bag is so old and threadbare, I don’t trust it. It’s basically trash. I loop my arms through the backpack’s straps and jerk it onto my shoulders.

  Because there’s never an excuse to litter.

  My feet are planted firmly in place, and my head swings left and right. I’m listening for approaching footsteps or whispered voices, scouring the gloom for the glint of moonlight against a zipper or metal button.

  Either there’s nothing to catch, or I’m missing it.

  No… I know I’m missing it.

  Because Jason is out there somewhere, and I can’t spot him.

  A short cry pierces the silence. It could have been a cough, but the hair on my arms stands on end.

  Then the faint sounds of a scuffle, and it seems to be happening directly below me.

  I hold my breath and squeeze my arms around the duffel. The next thirty seconds feel like the longest of my life, and when the unseen struggle ends, I realize I have no idea if or how Jason will let me know it’s safe to come out.

  At what point do I decide it’s smarter to run than to wait? Because if Jason was overpowered, whoever has him is going to come looking for the money.

  Calm down. Think.

  I squint at the blurry car.

  If friends of the dead bikers are out there, and if Jason has attacked them, they’d be making a lot more noise.

  It’s unlikely that they know about me. Unless Toby said something… I imagine him in a hospital bed, a bandage on his arm. Then I imagine him sobbing, describing me in minute detail to a bunch of big, tatted bikers.

  “DeeAnn?”

  Jason’s loud whisper floats from the darkness, but I can’t tell which direction in particular. It’s like he’s all around me.

  And oh crap, he wouldn’t still be whispering if it were safe.

  “Here,” I whisper as quietly as possible.

  I’m about to say something else, to give him a chance to find me, when he says, from very close, “We’ve got a problem.”

  “No shit,” I whisper hysterically because I’m stressed out in a hundred different ways. It won’t take much for me to lose the final shreds of my self-control. “What happened?”

  “It’s the Jack Rebels. I got close enough to spy on them. They don’t know that we’re here, but they saw the car.”

  I notice he hasn’t actually answered my question. Maybe I don’t want to hear the details. “What are they planning?”

  He makes an impatient sound. “They’re not sitting around and discussing their strategies. They’re keeping an eye on the car, though.”

  “You don’t think they know about me? What if Toby told them?”

  “He didn’t,” Jason says, sounding so certain. I’m surprised because Toby didn’t strike me as the most loyal person, but what do I know?

  “We should have pulled the car into the bushes,” I mumble.

  “They might have found it anyway.” He sounds defensive. “If you want to play the hindsight game, I could point out that we’re only here because you decided to hide the money.”

  “Earlier you said that was smart of me,” I whisper angrily.

  “The more trouble it causes, the less impressed I am. At least you could have remembered exactly where you stashed it.”

  Then he adds two sentences that would make anyone in my situation the happiest person in the world.

  “I’ve got a plan. And good news.” He pauses. “There are five motorcycles, farther up the road. Closer to the forest.”

  “Shouldn’t we have heard them?”

  “They must have arrived before us. We got lucky, not running into anyone.”

  I’m treated to an intrusive image of driving up, getting out of the car, and being immediately surrounded by guns. “Really lucky,” I say, and my voice trembles only a little. “What’s the plan?”

  “I didn’t tell you the good news yet. I messed with the bikes.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Unless the toilet snakes do something to our car—”

  “Toilet snakes?” I ask, bewildered.

  “Jack Rebels, I mean.”

  “Oh.”

  He grunts. “It’ll slow them down, at least.”

  I wait for more, but he’s quiet. Finally, I have to prod him. “And the plan?”

  “Yeah.” There’s a soft sound, and I suspect he’s running his hand through his hair. “I’m wondering if there’s a safer way.”

  It must be really risky. Riskier than screwing with those motorcycles, which sounds like an excellent way to die if he’d been caught.

  My mouth is dry. “Does it involve using me as bait?”

  “No,” he says, but he sounds like he’s considering it now. “They’re following our tracks from this afternoon. It’ll be clear to them that we weren’t walking together. I lost your trail sometimes, went in circles. If they think I’m following you, they won’t expect us to be working together.”

  We’re quiet again.

  “What would you do?” he asks, sounding like he really wants my opinion.

  “Tiptoe out of here, get to a real road, and call a ride.”

  “Your strategy’s not bad. We could chance it. But the woods might be full of Jack Rebels. We’ve been unbelievably lucky, but we can’t count on that going forward.”

  We’re both silent, absorbing that.

  “You’re wrong,” I say. “Lucky would be if the Jack Rebels only showed up an hour from now. Or if they weren’t looking for us at all.”

  Jason laughs quietly. “Excellent point.”

  This thing he does of telling me that I have good ideas or that I did a good job, it’s kind of annoying. He’s definitely got ulterior motives. Possibly he just wants to keep me calm.

  I sigh. “We could sprint for the car and hope the Jack Rebels don’t explode our heads. Not my first choice.”

  “Or mine,” he agrees. “Here’s what I’m thinking. I take them out, one by one.”

  Take them out. I doubt he means on a date.

  “It sounded like you got into a fight with one already,” I say.

  “Nah,” Jason says, and I know he’s lying. “I tossed a stone behind him. I wanted to see if he’d react. He didn’t.”

  That’s a load of bullshit. “Really?” I ask.

  Jason must miss the sarcasm, or maybe he’s ignoring it. “The others are probably sniffing around the trail we left earlier. It does get hard to follow at this point—because of the road. And because you were looking for a place to hide the bag. Hell, even I thought you’d been picked up.”

  “They’ll come to the same conclusion,” I say, relieved. “We sit tight, wait them out.”

  “No good. The Jack Rebels have access to night-vision gear. And tracking dogs. For three million dollars, they’re going to be thorough. They could be using both right now.”

  Dread crawls down my spine. “Then we don’t have time for you to slowly pick them off. What if we draw the closest Jack Rebels away from the car so we can get out of here?”

  “It’s risky.” Jason is quiet for several long seconds. “But it’s probably our best chance. You can be the bait…”

  I swallow hard.

  “Or you get the car. It would mean you’d have to drive a stolen vehicle. I’ve heard that’s illegal.”

  Unbelievable, that he’s making jokes at a time like this.

  He reaches out, takes the duffel from me. “So you can run faster,” he says.

  My protest dies on my lips. He’s right. Also, I don’t mind being relieved of the weight. Because I value my life more than money.

  At that moment, I’m able to articulate something to myself that should have been obvious hours ago… like when I was hiding around the corner from the E-Z Cash
.

  Something that was clearly obvious to Jason, maybe even from the moment he met me.

  Which is, I’m not cut out to be a criminal. I don’t have the stomach for it. That money I stumbled over, I never would have schemed for it. Never would have tried to trick someone away from it.

  Night-vision goggles. Trained dogs with sharp teeth. God knows what else.

  I taste bile and acidic tomato sauce on the back of my tongue. “Guess I’m bait, then.”

  “No. You’ll start the car.”

  “I don’t know how.”

  “With a key.” Like he can sense my skepticism, he adds, “It works like any other key.” He presses sharp metal into my palm. “Don’t drop it.”

  Jason outlines his plan. It’s pretty straightforward… He’ll take me as close to the car as he can. Then he’ll create a disturbance farther up the road.

  He doesn’t explain how, exactly, he’s going to lure them away.

  “Ready?” he asks after he’s finished.

  Not even close. “Yeah.”

  I want to wrap my arms around myself, but it’s safer, in the dark, to walk with them outstretched, in case I fall. I move slowly, pausing often to listen. My breathing sounds too loud, and I’m surprised the hammering of my heart hasn’t alerted the bikers to my presence.

  Ten excruciating minutes later, we’re at the bottom of the hill, the car clearly in view. What I don’t see is evidence of anyone in or near it. A good sign.

  Jason melts silently into the night. It’s a cool trick, one I wouldn’t mind possessing right now.

  He has the duffel—

  A realization hits hard and fast: I haven’t seen a single one of these Jack Rebels. The commotion? A single cry and a scuffle.

  It could have all been Jason.

  What if he’s taking off right now? He’s got all the money, and he could easily steal another car. Or reach a road quickly on those thoroughbred racehorse legs of his.

  My stomach roils and my throat burns.

  The longer I wait, the more certain I become that he’s tricked me. It’s a variation on a prank that I remember from elementary school. A little kindness, a little trust, and then the big betrayal.

  Your turn to hide. We’ll find you. Except they don’t show up for an hour.

  Bad guys are lurking in the woods. I’ll take the money and create a distraction.

  Except then he runs off.

  If there are bikers everywhere, why didn’t they hear and investigate that scuffle? Lucky, my ass.

  Fury sharpens my senses.

  I can’t believe I fell for this. That I allowed a man with a pretty face to fool me. It’s like I learned nothing from watching my dad in action.

  The anger that powers my muscles is far stronger than the pain of abused tendons and burst blisters, but my first step sends me stumbling over a rock.

  Jason is surely sprinting down the logging road, certain he can make it to the highway before gullible DeeAnn thinks to come looking for him.

  Well, he shouldn’t have left me the car. Running him over would be fair play.

  Careful of the tricky footing, I pick my way through the rocks and bushes, then dash for the vehicle.

  I’m nearly close enough to touch the bumper when I’m yanked off the ground so forcefully that it drives the air from my chest.

  “You bastard!” I try in vain to jerk away from Jason.

  It’s not Jason.

  The hands aren’t big enough. Given the smell, the interloper could be Toby.

  Panic claws at my throat but I can’t seem to scream again.

  “Who the hell are you?” he growls, and I’m sure partially digested pizza and soda will come flying out of my mouth.

  The man shines a light in my face. It’s painfully bright. Squinting, I turn my head away, but I’ve realized he’s not Toby.

  Someone crashes through the bushes, coming toward us.

  Jason, I think desperately. But he’s probably long gone… assuming he’s not working with these men.

  “Who the hell is that?” demands a brusque voice I’ve never heard before.

  “Please don’t hurt me,” I plead, and I’m realizing they have no idea who I am. Maybe I can talk my way out of this. If I could think straight.

  I don’t have to fake my tears; they’re streaming hotly down my cheeks. “Please let me go. I don’t have any money, and my car isn’t worth much.”

  “This fucking shit,” growls the second man. A hand comes out of nowhere to grab the neck of my shirt.

  The man yanks me forward, but the first man hasn’t released my arm. He’s pulled out a phone and is dialing.

  They drag me into the middle of the road, and a moment later, three other men spill out of the forest.

  I’m shoved up against the car. Rough hands search me.

  “Let go,” I snap, but it doesn’t do any good.

  A man who seems to stand seven feet tall jerks me around.

  “Who the hell are you, and what are you doing out here?”

  Chapter 15

  Jason stopped and looked back the way he’d come, adjusting the duffel strap across his chest. He understood why DeeAnn had buried the money. The weight was a hassle even for him. It must have been impossible for someone her size.

  The cloud cover was so thick that the logging road was now indistinguishable from the surrounding forest. Which meant he couldn’t see the car.

  He thought he’d gone far enough, but he wasn’t certain.

  The plan wasn’t ideal, but options were few and good options were nonexistent. DeeAnn didn’t know how bad the situation was.

  The Jack Rebels were armed, and they were pissed.

  Who could blame them?

  Jason focused on what would happen over the next few minutes. He had never turned the car’s interior dome light back on. When DeeAnn opened the door, she wouldn’t be haloed. But she would be heard, and if Jason failed to lure all of those assholes away, they’d grab her.

  All he had to do was turn on his flashlight and head toward the car. Before he got close, he’d start pretending to be nervous.

  That would draw the Jack Rebels toward him.

  Then he would run into the woods, dropping the glowing flashlight once he knew they were in pursuit.

  All that remained was to quickly and quietly circle around and wait for DeeAnn to come barreling down the road to pick him up.

  A million ways the plan could go wrong. If he didn’t get close enough, the Jack Rebels might not even notice he was down there. If he got too close, they might shoot him. Or shoot at him, which would compel him to shoot back to let them know he was armed and not easy prey. He didn’t like his odds of surviving a second shootout. Especially in the dark. If these men were anything like the ones in the shack, darkness would only improve their aim.

  If Jason was too slow, DeeAnn would be forced to leave without him.

  He repositioned the bulging duffel to the middle of his back. The bag was sturdier than he’d have guessed, but with his luck, the strap would break while he was running.

  Enough catastrophizing.

  Jason clicked the flashlight’s power button.

  Nothing happened.

  He toggled it a few times.

  Fuck.

  Quickly, he unscrewed the top and switched the order of the batteries. As he was replacing the top, he glanced up. And froze.

  He could see the car now, probably because there were a bunch of people standing around it, most of them holding flashlights. Their positions shifted slightly, revealing the familiar outline of a small woman.

  “What the hell?” he murmured.

  From this distance, he couldn’t hear shit. It looked like they were frisking DeeAnn. Five men. Which meant more bikers than bikes. They shook out the pathetic contents of Jason’s backpack, then threw it to the side.

  Jason moved to the edge of the forest and began loping toward the car. There was a tradeoff between moving quickly and keeping quiet.


  He chose speed.

  When he was close enough to hear, he stopped and dropped low. If the wind shifted the clouds, he’d be spotted regardless.

  It was a chance he’d have to take.

  “I’m not a poacher,” DeeAnn was blubbering. “I know it looks like that, but I swear I wasn’t setting traps.”

  Jason nodded slightly. Illegal poaching was a good reason to be sneaking around in the dark. Hopefully, the bikers didn’t know there was nothing worth hunting in this stretch of forest.

  “It’s illegal,” DeeAnn said, her voice whiny, verging on ditzy. “I wouldn’t do that. I know better. Please just let me go, and I swear I’ll never come back.”

  “Why are you using a shaved key?”

  “It’s Jeffrey’s car,” she said. “That’s my brother. Half-brother, technically. The car’s a piece of junk. Not worth much, but I need it—”

  “Where’s your brother?”

  Jason held his breath. If the Jack Rebels thought someone was out here with her, it wouldn’t matter who that someone was; they’d come looking, and that would erase Jason’s only advantage.

  “Not that it’s your business,” DeeAnn said stiffly, “but he’s in jail for breaking and entering, waiting for trial. He forgot to leave me the car key, so I had to get creative. I’ve been paying his insurance, so it’s fair.” The whine was back. She played the part perfectly.

  “I hate thieves,” one of the Jack Rebels said. Jason felt his eyebrow lifting at the irony.

  “Open the trunk,” the tall guy said.

  DeeAnn cleared her throat. “There’s a release on the floor.”

  “You open it.”

  Jason knew they thought she was playing games, and he hoped she’d be smart enough not to make any sudden movements.

  She opened the car door, squatted down, and popped the trunk release. One of the men dragged her to her feet, then around to the back. He inspected the trunk, the back seat, then under the car.

  “Nothing,” he said.

  The tall man, who was clearly in charge, motioned for one of the other Jack Rebels to step to the side. They conferred, heads lowered.