Brightest As We Fall

by Cleo Peitsche

  Jason tensed, waiting to see which way the wind was blowing. Would they accept DeeAnn’s story?

  Finally, the second biker turned around. “We wanna see your traps.”

  “But I wasn’t setting traps.”

  “If you weren’t setting traps, then what are you doing out here?”

  “Well, fine, I might have set one teeny little trap. I know it’s illegal—”

  “Do you want to die?”

  Jason imagined he could hear DeeAnn gulp. “No.”

  “Let’s see the traps.”

  Jason’s grip on the flashlight tightened. He had his gun, but he couldn’t use it, not unless he wanted multiple guns firing in his direction, spraying the woods with bullets. If he rushed them, he could probably knock out two of the men before the other three jumped him. They’d forget about DeeAnn.

  With any luck, she’d stick around to help.

  The tall guy. He’d be Jason’s first target. He was big, and he was in charge. His name was Hognose. Jason recognized two of the other bikers as well.

  “All right,” DeeAnn said, her voice admirably calm. “I’ll take back the traps, but I swear on my daughter’s head that I’ve never set one here before.”

  Jason held his breath and nodded in approval. She was good under pressure, far better than he’d expected, given the pathetic first impression she’d made at E-Z Cash. He hoped she was scheming to give the Jack Rebels the slip in the woods.

  And Jason would be there, waiting.

  “I lost my flashlight,” DeeAnn said. “Dropped it when you grabbed me. I’ll need to borrow yours… or maybe not,” she said wryly as one of the men pushed her toward the woods. A second man followed. The rest of the group had turned around, and now they were fanning out.

  Good. Split up.

  Did he want to kill more men today? Jason had already broken his previous daily record. If he could annihilate this little group, it would rattle the Jack Rebels. They’d surely start looking at rival motorcycle clubs. No one would ever believe one guy could do that kind of damage.

  Jason smiled, anticipating the victory, how sweet it would be to outsmart these assholes.

  “Hold it right there,” said a voice directly behind him. “There’s three of us and one of you. Give me a reason to pull the trigger.”

  As Jason slowly raised his arms, he lowered his head.

  He’d already counted more Jack Rebels than motorcycles, so likely there was at least one additional group roaming the woods. And while he didn’t think there were three people behind him, it wasn’t the kind of thing to gamble on.

  Squinting, he tried to make out the shapes. One pair of grubby, denim-clad legs. Just one person? Impossible to know for certain in the dark.

  If the Jack Rebels captured him, they’d kill him. And DeeAnn, too.

  Better to chance it.

  “I think there’s been a mistake,” Jason said.

  “There’s no—”

  “Hognose told me to do this.” Jason dropped low and threw himself to the side and back. People expected you to run from guns, not throw yourself into them.

  The thug hit the ground with a grunt and stopped moving. Jason glanced up and saw that DeeAnn was being restrained. She wasn’t even fighting.

  “What’s going on?” Hognose was approaching, gun lifted, flashlight illuminating the bushes some twenty feet to Jason’s right.

  Jason shrugged free from the duffel bag and carefully placed it behind a nearby scrubby bush. He helped himself to the downed man’s gun and rammed the butt twice into the man’s throat, crushing his windpipe.

  Grinning, Jason raised the flashlight to shoulder height and switched it on, hoping to blind the Jack Rebels to his face.

  “I got the motherfucker.” Jason hadn’t heard enough of the other man’s voice to be able to copy it, so he just talked like himself. He gave the man a kick in the ribs. The man didn’t move; he was dead or close to it.

  Jason moved forward quickly. Any second now, they’d realize…

  The closest man was raising his arm.

  Jason’s reaction was automatic and irrevocable: he pulled the trigger. He was smooth and fast thanks to hours and hours spent on a shooting range.

  The target dropped.

  That left four.

  They’d all pulled guns now. “Hold on,” Jason said. “I know where the money is, and I’ll trade it to you for the girl.”

  He expected a bullet screaming past his ear, or maybe shocking pain followed by the cold nothingness of the abyss.

  But apparently he’d uttered the magic words.

  They wanted their money.

  Chapter 16

  The man holding me smells like sweat, booze, and cigarettes. The combo always makes me feel sick. Now, I think I might actually puke.

  I have no idea what’s going on.

  One second I was about to lead a bunch of bloodthirsty thugs into the woods, and the next I heard Jason saying he “got the motherfucker.”

  Then I saw a man die.

  I’ve watched my share of violent movies. They’re unavoidable. So I’ve seen tons of people die on-screen. Bad guys, good guys, innocent bystanders.

  But it’s no preparation for what just happened.

  The crack of the gunshot and the nearly simultaneous thwack as the bullet hit. The man’s grunt as he toppled over.

  Then, the smell. Feces and urine and other things I can’t identify but which feel viscerally wrong, like nothing anyone should ever come into contact with.

  That’s a human. A person. Someone’s son, maybe father or brother.

  He was alive, and now he’s dead.

  His body lies in a half-twisted heap, one of his arms and both his legs flung out. He looks like he’s playing a game. I can’t stop staring at the jagged outline of what once used to be a head.

  Thank fuck it’s dark out.

  I guess I should be horrified, and I am, by the violence. But considering that these losers told me to show them the traps or they would kill me, well, I hope the universe will forgive me for not being sad that I’ve got one less threat to worry about.

  But. That image. When I finally make myself look away, I still see it.

  Everyone other than the guy holding me has pulled out a gun.

  “I know where the money is, and I’ll trade it to you for the girl.” Jason’s words are confident, and I think it’s his boldness more than what he said that stops him from getting shot.

  It’s difficult to see Jason clearly because of how he’s holding the flashlight, but I don’t see the duffel. I hope he hid it well because if the motorcycle gang gets the money, they’ll have no reason to keep us alive.

  Other flashlights switch on. I preferred the darkness.

  “How do you want to play this, Hognose?” asks a chubby man. From the tone of his voice, there might as well be fire ants swarming over his balls.

  “The money first,” Hognose says. His voice is low, and I can tell he’s thinking through the different angles, noticing what doesn’t add up and how he can turn it to his advantage. This man may have a baffling nickname, but he’s dangerous.

  “I don’t have the money on me,” Jason says, “but I can tell you where it is. You send someone to get it. If it’s there, you let her go.”

  “What about you?” asks the man holding me. “Are we supposed to let you go as well?”

  “That’s a separate negotiation,” Jason says, and he’s wearing a shit-eating grin, like he knows everything is going to work out in his favor, and he pities anyone who doesn’t recognize that.

  I almost want to stick around, to find out how things turn out.

  Then reality hits me… Jason doesn’t have anything up his sleeve. If he did, I’d know about it. This is all a bluff. He’s trying to get me to safety.

  I haven’t known Jason long. Only several hours.

  But there are things I can say about him without reservation. Things I would bet my life on.

  He’s perceptive.


  He’s confident—cocky, really.

  He’s shrewd.

  But he’s no philanthropist.

  Jason sees all the angles. If he’s offering this trade, it’s because he’s giving up, and he’s trying to arrange it so at least one of us walks away.

  Now, would that be me, or him?

  Because I know the money has to be near the road. If Hognose sends someone on an expedition to get the money, then that person is going to return empty-handed.

  And what will these thugs do with me?

  I’m guessing I’ll get a lead souvenir, right in the middle of my skull. That’s if I’m lucky.

  The last time you didn’t trust Jason, you got grabbed by a thug.

  Yeah, it’s a good point, but this time, there’s no maneuver that Jason can possibly pull off.

  I take a deep breath, and I’m about to yell out that Jason is trying to trick everyone, that there are two more people with us, when Jason says, “As a gesture of my good faith, here’s a tip. Don’t send Leo. He’ll take the money and run. He’s been skimming off the top for years. Playing both sides, too.”

  The man holding me goes stiff. I can feel the tension in his body.

  Even then, I don’t figure out that he’s Leo until the tall man turns toward us.

  “Come on, Hognose. He’s full of shit,” Leo says. His foul breath floats over me, eclipsing the sweat and cigarette smoke reek of his clothing.

  “Ah, hell,” Jason says. He’s so gleeful, I have to believe he’s enjoying this, the sick bastard. “Let’s not keep secrets. Leo’s trustworthy, just not for you. He’s AJ’s guy on the inside. Very reliable.”

  “Bullshit,” Leo roars, treating me to another eye-watering dose of halitosis. His grip turns viselike, but I have the impression he’s forgotten all about me.

  “How does he know your real name?” asks Hognose. “I didn’t even know it.”

  It’s a good question, one I’d also like the answer to. Does Jason trust Leo? Will Leo secretly help us?

  Leo’s grip momentarily loosens on me.

  Before I can jerk away and run for the woods, his fingers dig into my arms again, pressing into the delicate area where muscle and tendon and bone meet. He sidles away from the group, pulling me with him.

  Great, I think. There’s gonna be a shootout, and I’ll end up riddled with holes, Leo will escape, and he and Jason can run off together and split the money.

  Leo takes another step. “I’ve never stolen anything.”

  “Liar,” someone mumbles. “Always full of shit, Racer.”

  “And you,” Jason says, pointing at the chubby man. “I forget your name, but aren’t you fucking Corny’s daughter?”

  “Yes!” Leo says. Now his body is quivering with excitement. “I seen ’em myself, Corn Snake. They—”

  Hognose roars, “Shut up! We’ll deal with this shit later. Let’s stay focused on the money.”

  Other than me, and presumably Jason, everyone else seems very happy to get the evening back on target.

  Was that my chance? Was there an opportunity to get away, and I missed it?

  “So. Any takers?” Jason calls out. “Who’s going to fetch the lettuce?”

  “Hold on,” Corn Snake says. I wonder if he picked that name himself. He turns to the man who may or may not be fucking his daughter. I can see the revulsion on his face. Then he pivots toward Leo. “You knew about this, and you didn’t tell me?”

  Oh shit, I think. These thugs getting angrier is the last thing the situation needs. What the hell is Jason thinking?

  “Too late,” Jason says. “I’ll keep the money.”

  I swear I don’t even see him run; he’s there one second, gone the next.

  “Get him!” someone hollers.

  The ground seems to shake as everyone except Leo takes off in pursuit.

  “It’s a trap,” I tell Leo. “There are three more people with us. One of them has the money. Chances are your buddies aren’t coming back alive.”

  There’s no good reason to say it other than a desperate hope that Leo will do something reckless, like run off to save his own life, giving me a chance to also vanish.

  But I guess reality doesn’t work that way. Leo does release one of my arms… and then punches me.

  The blow glances off the side of my head. Mostly, it catches my ear, but I feel momentarily dazed.

  “Shut the hell up,” he says, raising his fist again.

  I see it coming this time and try to duck away from him, but he’s got a death grip on my other arm. The best I can do is swing to the side.

  The flashlights have turned off. I don’t know why.

  It emboldens me. This is my chance, and I do my best, kicking and squirming. My struggles are in vain.

  “Some guys, they won’t hit a woman in the face,” Leo says, reeling me back in. “Not me. I like some blood and bruising.”

  I bring up my knee and aim for his groin—he never should have taken his other hand off me. I strike hard, holding nothing back.

  Bullseye.

  Rancid air gushes out of Leo’s mouth as he doubles over. He does his best to keep hold of my arm, but a knee to his chin, with all my strength, drops him like dead weight.

  He doesn’t move, and part of me thinks it’s a trap, some elaborate trick. It can’t be that easy to level a grown man.

  Can it?

  I look frantically around. There’s someone about thirty feet away—which is about as far as I can see.

  Who knows where the instinct comes from, but I roll Leo over and relieve him of his keys, wallet, and cell phone.

  Then I’m in the car.

  Getting it started is as easy as Jason said.

  I slam the door, buckle my seatbelt—if I get a chance to run one of these assholes over, I’m totally taking it—pop into drive and slam my foot on the gas pedal.

  Chapter 17

  Jason paused to listen.

  The Jack Rebels had switched off their flashlights.

  It was a smart move. Now he couldn’t see where they were. Of course, the tradeoff was that they couldn’t see him, either. He planned to turn that to his favor.

  He dropped into a crouch, crab-walked toward the duffel and silently slipped the strap over his shoulder. Before standing straight, he gathered up a handful of rocks. Most of the stones were too small for his purposes, but they would have to do.

  Straightening, he pulled back his arm and hurled the first rock into the foliage on the other side of the road. He quickly followed up with several more.

  Footsteps pounded.

  Someone had launched himself into the bushes.

  Jason threw a few more rocks, farther in this time.

  A light turned on. Jason’s reward.

  Except if whoever was swinging it around happened to turn toward the road, Jason would be lit up like a shopping mall Christmas tree.

  Time to go.

  He felt bad about leaving DeeAnn behind.

  His hope was that the Jack Rebels would keep her alive under the assumption that she mattered to him and could be used as leverage. As long as she was still alive, she had a chance to escape.

  Jason regretted what he had to do, but he refused to feel guilty. If he’d been able to, he would have killed all of those men to save her. Well, to save himself, too, but even if it wouldn’t have made a difference for him, he would have done that for her.

  Though crouched and moving as quietly as possible, he was still making good time down the road. Every few steps, he changed course slightly, erratically. Just in case someone got the bright idea to spray the forest and the road with bullets.

  The Jack Rebels probably wouldn’t risk killing him, not when they thought he’d be able to tell them where to find the money.

  He froze.

  He hadn’t heard gunshots. Of course not. The Jack Rebels needed him. Or they thought they did, anyway. What if he went back, tried to pick them off one at a time?

  You’re almost home free. All th
e money for yourself.

  Setting DeeAnn up with a car and some living expenses wouldn’t cost that much.

  Reinforcements are certainly en route. You might only have minutes before Jack Rebels are swarming all over the woods.

  That gave him pause. It would be a challenge. But Jason liked challenges—

  An engine coughed to life.

  Someone had started the car. One of the toilet snakes, probably.

  Jason swallowed a slew of curses. Now he straightened and ran flat out, the heavy, unwieldy bag thumping against his hip and back.

  He needed to get off the road, away from the headlights sure to spotlight him any second now.

  And that meant heading into the forest, which was dense here. If there was a trail, good luck finding it in the dark.

  Unless…

  Unless he just… hid.

  They would overshoot him.

  Angry shouts filled the darkness. Jason glanced back to check his progress. The car’s headlights dimmed as it tore down the road toward him.

  And now the dome light flashed on, only for a few seconds, but it was enough for Jason to see.

  “No fucking way,” he said, unable to keep the words from whispering out his mouth. But no, he wasn’t hallucinating that messy ponytail.

  DeeAnn was driving.

  She wore her seatbelt, and her hands gripped the steering wheel like she was trying to fuse with it.

  She was coming on fast.

  Wearing her game face.

  Fucking hell, he loved her game face. He’d never seen anyone or anything so fucking beautiful as that woman right now. His salvation.

  Grinning, he waved his arms.

  The car braked inches from Jason’s kneecaps and the passenger door popped open.

  “Need a ride?” DeeAnn’s voice was tight, almost hysterical, but as he slammed the door and she took off, he laughed like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

  In fact, it might have been.

  When they were another mile down the logging road, Jason gently touched her arm.

  “Pull over,” he said. “Actually, you don’t need to pull over. Just stop.”