by Cheree Alsop
“One more thing.” He frowned and scratched his hair beneath his hat, then pushed the hat on more firmly. “There’ve been sightings of a few Brown Hawk gang members hanging around.”
“What are they doing?” The fact that someone from the fair shootings was hanging around Sparrow concerned me.
“Not sure.” The sheriff looked annoyed that they didn’t have more information. “Several of them are still in custody for the shootings. These are either from other chapters or weren’t involved in the shooting.” His eyes tightened. “Just the same, be careful and warn your partner.”
I nodded and didn’t bother to mention that Magnum had decided to do things on his own for a while. I climbed on my motorcycle and drove to a stop sign, then sat and watched the police cars and ambulance head to the hospital. A few seconds after they passed, my cell phone rang. I slid it out of my pocket, worried it might be Madelyn. I was surprised to see Magnum’s name on the screen.
“Hello?” I said reluctantly.
“Kelson, hey, I didn’t know if I should call you but, um,” Magnum paused, then rushed forward, “I was filling up my bike at the same place as last time, and you know those guys who keep robbing the gas stations? Well, I think they’re inside.”
Indecision gripped me. The sheriff had told me to lie low. I wasn’t supposed to compromise myself further. “I’ll call the police,” I said.
“Seriously?” Magnum cursed under his breath. “These guys’ll be gone before the cops get here. You know that.” He took a breath, then said, “I’m going in.”
“Magnum, don’t—” I began, but he hung up.
I stared at my phone. I could try to call him back, but I knew there was no choice. I slid the phone in my pocket and revved the engine.
I PUSHED MY MOTORCYCLE to the red line, speeding down the interstate at one hundred and forty. I passed a few trucks as though they were standing still, then flew off the exit ramp and slid to a stop next to Magnum’s bike. A quick glance showed him already inside. I crossed to the doors and studied the layout.
Magnum wasn’t doing well. His helmet sat on the floor and he was sporting a black eye. Two of the robbers had him pinned against the counter with knives at his throat while the other was busy emptying the cash register to the frustration of the pale, raven-haired attendant. She stood against the wall and held her hands up, revealing swirling tattoos running down both arms. Her fingers were trembling and she kept looking at Magnum for help, but he was in no condition to be of assistance.
All the emotions from finding Madelyn’s uncle in her room flooded my body—the adrenaline that filled me at recognizing his car on the side of the road, my desperate climb to her bedroom, then the fury at seeing her consumed by terror and outrage pounded through my chest. I took a steeling breath and pushed the door open. “About time we ran into you guys.”
All three men looked up. The man behind the cash register had a black bandana around his forehead. His eyes narrowed. “I thought the Black Rider crumpled a little too easily.”
He jerked his head and one of the men left Magnum and walked slowly to me. He handled himself with the cool grace of an experienced fighter. This wasn’t going to be like our last fight at the same gas station.
“Be careful,” Magnum called.
“Shut up,” the man who held him at knife point hissed.
“Let’s see if you’re as good as he was supposed to be,” the man near me said.
He passed his knife from one hand to the other. I kept my eyes on his face, reading his expressions and the subtle twitches that told of his intentions. His gaze sharpened and I realized he knew what I was doing. I dropped my focus to a point just below his throat so he wouldn’t try to draw me out with fake signals.
His knife slowed. He threw a punch, then lashed out with the knife when I dodged to the side. I blocked his attack with my forearm and threw a punch in return. He lunged to the left and his grip tightened on his knife.
He made a swipe for my throat. I leaned back, then ducked low and drove a fist into his left knee. It snapped to the side with an audible crack. The man let out a yell. He slashed at my chest, stepping forward on his injured leg. When he stumbled, I slugged him in the stomach, then dodged back before he could drive his knife into my thigh.
“I’m gonna kill you,” he hissed, his jaw clenched tight in pain.
I motioned him forward. His eyes narrowed, his gaze bright with outrage.
“Go help him,” the man behind the counter commanded the others.
I caught the first man’s arm before he could bring his knife down. I drove a punch into his ribs just below his arm and he dropped his knife. He tried to kick me in the groin, but I caught his leg and drove a chop into his groin in answer. I spun and elbowed the second man’s arm away just before he stabbed me in the back. I slammed a fist into his side, then followed it with a low leg sweep that knocked him onto his back.
A quick glance showed Magnum at the counter with the leader’s knife pressed against his throat. I picked up the knife the first man had dropped. I was tempted to throw it at the one behind the counter, but both men made it back to their feet. The one I had punched in the groin looked like he was about to throw up. I had to give him credit for resilience.
“You don’t know when to give up,” I said amiably.
The man with the knife advanced without a word. He made a quick swipe at my stomach, then sliced up toward my head in a blow intended to lay my throat open. I dodged the first, but the tip caught me when I blocked the second. It sliced deeply along the palm of my left hand, causing me to drop my knife. I backed up.
“So he can bleed,” the man taunted, pursuing me.
His companion jabbed at my side. I turned and blocked the blow, then felt the fire of the knife as it tore through my jacket into my side. Rage burned through my limbs. I twisted and caught his knife hand, then hit him in the stomach followed by a haymaker to his face that made him spin in a complete circle before he fell to the ground.
I blocked a kick from the other man and answered it with a punch to the chest, a left jab to the stomach, then another chop to the groin that made him collapse, gasping, to the floor.
I picked up both knives and advanced on the man holding Magnum hostage.
“I’d suggest backing away from him,” I said in a deadly calm voice.
Magnum stared at me with wide eyes while the man behind him laughed. “And give up my hostage? No way.”
I shrugged and flipped one of the knives in my hand so I held it point first. “Either that or I send this blade through your eye.”
His eyes widened, then narrowed. “You’re bluffing.”
A sign said “Donuts” above the counter of coffee and hot chocolate machines. I threw the knife, hoping to at least hit the sign. To my surprise, the blade hit the middle of the donut and sank into the wall.
The man dropped his knife and backed up. Magnum grabbed it and advanced on him, pressing him against the counter. “How do you like it?” he demanded. “Not very comfortable, is it?”
“We’ve got to go,” I told him. I turned my attention to the pale attendant. “Call the sheriff of Sparrow. He’s been looking for these guys.”
She nodded and fumbled for the phone.
“Why do we need to leave?” Magnum asked. He pulled bungee cords from one of the stands and began to tie their hands behind their backs. “We should turn these guys in. It’d look great!”
“Madelyn’s uncle came back into town.”
Magnum’s mouth fell open. “After the beating we gave him?”
I nodded, then lied, “I had a bat this time. The sheriff said I’d be lucky not to get attempted murder charges.”
“But he’s a rapist,” Magnum argued.
“I promised the sheriff I’d lie low for a while.” I gestured toward the men he left tied on the floor. “This isn’t exactly lying low.” I looked at the girl. “Can you handle them until the cops show up?” My voice sounded gruff beneath the helmet.<
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She nodded and grabbed one of the knives. I smiled at the grim look of determination on her face. “They aren’t getting away this time,” she threatened in a tone that left little doubt she would use the knife if needed.
As the adrenaline left, my side began to throb. I vaguely remembered the bite of a knife. I put a hand to my side under the jacket and it came away damp with blood. “Let’s go,” I said. I pushed the door open without waiting to see if Magnum followed. My hand left a bloody print on the door.
“Wait up,” Magnum called. I made it to the motorcycle and glanced back to see him staring at the blood on the door. He hurried over. “You got cut?”
I pulled my glove off and showed him where the knife had sliced it. Magnum’s eyes tightened. “That print was from your right hand.”
I let out a slow breath between my teeth and lifted my jacket. Blood flowed down my side from a knife wound about six inches long.
Magnum swore. “We’ve got to get you to a hospital.”
I shook my head. “Lying low, remember?”
“Then where?” Magnum demanded. “This is your life you’re playing with.”
I shoved the jacket back down and started the engine. “I’m going the Ashbys’.”
“That’s idiotic,” Magnum shouted.
When he saw I wasn’t going to be swayed, he climbed onto his motorcycle. I drove slowly from the parking lot and followed the interstate back toward Sparrow. Headlights blurred and the whirl of police car lights glared blindingly as they passed us on their way to the gas station. A loud humming sound pounded in my ears.
I blinked, then weaved as I forced the bike to stay up. Magnum gunned his motorcycle so he rode beside me. He threw his visor up. “Pull over,” he shouted.
I shook my head and hunched lower, forcing myself to concentrate on the lines of the road. The bike wavered again. I felt lightheaded. The headlights of the oncoming vehicles were all I could see in the darkness.
Magnum pulled in front of me. His red taillight was like a balm to my aching eyes. I concentrated on the light and followed him off the interstate. Each blink took longer. It felt as if a lifetime went by before I opened my eyes. The red light was the only thing that mattered to me.
My thoughts drifted to Madelyn. She would be upset with me for getting hurt. I had made a promise to her long ago that I would think about her before I did anything stupid. Turning away from the knife had definitely been stupid. I didn’t want to disappoint her, and I really didn’t want to be scolded for forgetting my promise, but I had. I owed it to Madelyn to work harder on that next time.
Something about thoughts of Madelyn weighed on my mind. Dark feelings pressed down as though something bad had happened, but my mind couldn’t concentrate hard enough for me to remember what that was. I wanted to make sure Madelyn was all right.
I felt the road change from tight asphalt to the looser gravel near the Ashbys’ property. The feeling brought me to a foggy version of the present. Magnum’s taillight flashed when he slowed. I couldn’t make my brain respond. I released the throttle and felt the bike tip. I hit the ground with a jarring thud and felt the motorcycle crash against my leg, pinning me down.
“Kelson!” Magnum shouted. He was immediately at my side. Shapes came out of the house, calling questions into the darkness. The back porch light flipped on, flooding the area around us.
“Kelson needs help,” Magnum called. He yanked the motorcycle off my leg, then unstrapped my helmet and eased it carefully from my head. “Stay with me,” he said, his expression worried.
Cassidy appeared, then Mom, followed closely by Uncle Rick and Jaren.
“Kelson!” Mom exclaimed. Her hand flew to her mouth.
“What happened?” Uncle Rick demanded.
“He stopped a robbery at a gas station, but one of the men got him with a knife,” Magnum explained quickly. He lifted up my shirt. I didn’t have the energy to protest. The flow of blood down my side felt warm and sticky.
“Oh, my goodness,” Mom whispered.
“He needs a hospital,” Aunt Lauren said, appearing at Mom’s side.
Magnum shook his head. “Maddy’s uncle tried to rape her and Kelson practically killed him. The sheriff told him to lie low so he doesn’t get pressed with attempted murder charges. He can’t be linked to the gas station.”
I remembered what had happened to Madelyn. A sick feeling tightened in my stomach. Uncle Rick knelt and picked me up in his arms as if I weighed no more than a newborn calf. I tried to protest, but he didn’t appear to hear me. Cassidy opened the door and he carried me straight to the living room. Someone picked up the phone and dialed. I blacked out to the muffled sound of voices.
“HE’S COMING AROUND,” A familiar voice said.
I opened my eyes, then squinted at the bright light. Someone dimmed the lamp and I was able to see again. A small smile touched my lips. “I didn’t know you made house calls,” I said to Dr. Carrison. Pain flared along my side. I kept my gaze on him to avoid looking at it.
His eyebrows pulled together. “I normally don’t,” he replied with a touch of humor. “But I’ve learned to make exceptions in extreme cases.”
My left hand was wrapped. I could feel stitches poking through the gauze. I attempted to sit up, but hands held me down. I looked up to see Magnum, Mom, and Uncle Rick standing over me. The hot ache that rushed across my stomach and ribs at the movement made me feel close to blacking out again. I settled back and took a shallow breath. “I guess this is an extreme case,” I said quietly.
He nodded and finished cleaning my side with something cold, then pressed gauze to the wound. “Six stitches in your palm, and twenty-four across your side. Pretty nasty wound, but at least it was shallow enough to avoid clipping anything major.” He gave me a serious look. “You got lucky.”
I nodded. “Thanks for the help.”
His eyes took on a troubled glint. “I’m supposed to report any signs of brawling or abuse.” He looked up at the others. “But since we’re not at the hospital, I’ll keep this on the down-low. It could cost me my license if I’m found out, though.”
“Thank you, Doc,” Uncle Rick said. “We appreciate it. I didn’t know who else to call.”
“Bronson wasn’t available?” Dr. Carrison asked.
Uncle Rick gave a snort of laughter. “I’m not positive the vet has your discretion.”
I tried to see the humor in the situation, but failed entirely. “A vet?”
Mom rubbed my shoulder. “Take it easy,” she said gently. “Dr. Carrison says you need bed rest.”
I wanted to argue, but the look in her eyes stole any quarrel I could come up with. How many times would my mom have to worry about losing me? I didn’t know what was wrong with me. I kept putting myself in situations where I didn’t care if my life was in danger. If I admitted the truth to myself, it was obvious I was looking for them.
I shied away from that line of thought. “Thanks for patching me up again, Doc.”
Dr. Carrison shook my hand and said in a chiding tone, “Take better care of yourself. If you’re going to be any good around here as the Black Rider, it’d be best to survive the situations you pit yourself against.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I replied wryly.
He smiled and crossed to the living room door, then paused and turned back. A thoughtful expression crossed his features. “You know, I worked on Mitch West.”
The name brought a cold pit to my stomach. I kept my face carefully expressionless and waited to see what he would say.
“He survived—for now, at least,” the doctor said. His tone stated he wasn’t exactly sure how he felt about the fact. He shook his head and continued, “He was pretty messed up. I’m assuming it was a blunt object?”
I nodded. “A bat,” I said carefully.
He rubbed his chin. “I assumed as much, but . . .”
“But what?” Magnum pressed, unable to maintain the patience the doctor’s drawn-out story required.
A slight frown formed between Dr. Carrison’s eyebrows when he looked at me. “I’ve treated a few of your victims, if you don’t mind the term, and I’ve seen what the full force of the Black Rider’s fist can do. Imagine combining that with the unforgiving clout of a bat.” He gave me a very straightforward look. “Mitch West wouldn’t have made it to the hospital. He would be in a body bag at the morgue.”
He left through the front door. Tension hung in the air thick enough to choke a person. I swallowed and found my mouth very dry. Mom took a cup from the end table and held a straw to my lips so I could swallow. I finished two gulps, then rested my head back against the pillow. My body felt like it weighed a ton, and my head swam with every movement.
“What did he mean?” Uncle Rick asked. His voice was quiet, but he used the tone he handled like a weapon whenever he wanted the truth from Jaren or Cole—usually Cole.
I closed my eyes. His heavy footsteps shuffled slightly, but nobody left the room. I swallowed again and said in a voice that sounded as exhausted as I felt, “He’s implying that I didn’t beat Mitch.”
“I got that,” Uncle Rick pressed. “If you didn’t do it, then who?”
“Madelyn,” Cassidy said in a voice just above a whisper. All heads turned toward her and I opened my eyes to see the color run from her face. “He was trying to hurt her,” my cousin continued. She kept her eyes on mine as if the truth was the most important thing in the world to her. “She was defending herself, right?”
Angry tears burned in my eyes. I closed them again and nodded. When I answered her, frustration and rage came out stark and plain in my voice; apparently pain and whatever the doctor had used to drug me took away my ability to hide my emotions. “I beat him once before, after she told me what he was doing to her. Magnum and I chased him from town and made him promise never to come back. But I forgot he would’ve heard about the funeral. He didn’t attend the ceremony, but maybe he thought in all the chaos, he could get to Madelyn.” I rubbed my closed eyes, heedless of the way the movement pulled against my stitches. “I shouldn’t have left her alone,” I choked out.