by Cheree Alsop
He shook his head before I was through talking. “No. I’m not going.”
The sound of a gun cocking caught both of our attentions. “He might be wearing explosives,” the leader said, “but you’re not.” He pressed the gun to Magnum’s forehead. “Get on the bike.”
Magnum looked from me to the Verdos leader. His eyes were wide with fear and anguish. Both of us knew he had no choice.
“Ride,” I said quietly.
He climbed onto the motorcycle and started the engine in motions that told of habit instead of conscious thought. He turned the bike slowly to face the wreckage I had made of the door. The entire time, his gaze was on me. His eyes shone in the light of the camp lanterns the Verdos had brought before he drove slowly out of the gas station.
The Verdos leader listened to the engine fade away, then turned back to me. “Now the vest.”
“All right.” I willed my hands not to shake. I couldn’t deny that there was stress involved with wearing two dozen grenades strapped to my chest and back. Each bump in the road had raged war with my heart. Driving through the gas station door had been a little reckless. I undid the straps carefully, and breathed a sigh of relief when it was undone. I gingerly shrugged out of the vest and lowered it to the floor. Tension hung thick in the air. The Verdos members backed to the opposite side of the room.
“And the helmet,” the leader pressed.
I had hoped I could keep it on, but like he said, it wouldn’t stop bullets. It wasn’t full of C-4, but he didn’t know that.
I undid the strap and slowly pulled it off as if afraid it would detonate at any moment. Complete silence filled the room as though every person held their breath. I eased the helmet off my head. The second it was clear, I threw it at the Verdos leader. He caught it with a shocked expression. I followed the helmet and threw a right haymaker that connected with his jaw and spun him all the way around before he hit the floor. His gun slid out of his hand and underneath a broken-down cabinet.
I turned before the others could react, knocked the shotgun away from a man who looked like an NFL linebacker, and chopped him in the throat. When he lifted his hands, I hit him twice in the belly, then swept his legs out from under him. He fell to the floor hard enough to shake it.
The other two men with guns were my first targets. I wouldn’t make the same mistake of disregarding the most dangerous weapons. A man swung a club at me as a skinny dark-skinned boy lifted a gun. I stepped swiftly to the side to avoid the club, elbowed the man in the side of the head, then used his body as a shield between me and the skinny boy.
I shoved the man forward and when the boy lifted his arm to avoid shooting his companion, I wrenched the gun from his grasp and clubbed him in the head with the butt. I spun and tried to hit the man with the club as well. He raised the bat to block the blow and the gun went flying out of my grasp. I kneed the man in the groin, then again in the face when he doubled over.
A hiss sounded in the air. I wrenched the bat from the man and raised it in time to catch the end of the chain before it lashed against my face. I jerked the bat forward and drove my fist straight into the man’s face. His head whiplashed back with the force of the blow and he collapsed without moving.
The slight click of a gun’s safety warned me and I dropped to the ground an instant before the bullet smashed through the air. I rolled to the left, picking up the club as I did so. I threw it and jumped back to my feet to avoid a knife. It sliced across the back of my T-shirt, missing me by millimeters. I dove forward, grappling for the last gun. The shooter was built like Rambo. I wouldn’t win the weapon out of force. He bent the gun slowly in my direction. His finger tightened on the trigger.
“Let him go.”
Everyone started at the voice that shouted through the broken door. I grinned at the sight of Magnum in the Black Rider jacket and helmet I had left in the parking lot.
“There’s two of them?” a man near the door swore.
I poked the man with the gun hard in the eye. He let out a string of curses and dropped the gun to clutch his face. I grabbed for the weapon, but a club smashed into my back. I let my body fall forward with the blow, then rolled to the right. The club slammed into the cement where my head had been.
Before the man could swing again, Magnum tackled him around the waist. They crashed into a work table, sending it to the ground in splinters. Instinct warned me to move. I sprang to the right just as a knife tip pricked the back of my shoulder. I spun around and grabbed the man’s knife hand, attempting to punch him in the face with my right as I did so. He blocked the blow with one arm, driving his own fist into my cheekbone.
I staggered back, seeing stars. I blocked a kick for my stomach, caught the man’s leg, and drove a chop into his groin. He fell to the ground with an unmanly scream. Near the wall, Magnum slammed a fist into a man’s face. His head rebounded off the wall and Magnum hit him again.
My brain said we could hold our own against them if we kept them from the guns. Two were underneath the cabinet, while another was unaccounted for. I dodged a sweep of a knife, my eyes searching the ground for the last gun. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a hand reach down for it. I turned ready to stop him when a two-by-four beam slammed into my face, dropping me straight to the ground.
Pain exploded in my vision. Something wet began to drip down my face as a circle of cold metal was pressed hard against my forehead.
“Whoa!” Magnum said. “Take it easy.”
“Think you can mess with us?” the Verdos leader demanded. His eyes burned with anger and hatred as he looked from one of us to the other, his green bandana skewed to one side.
The man with the two-by-four shoved Magnum against the wall and pressed the beam tight against his throat. One of Magnum’s hands fought to keep the wood from cutting off his air while the other fumbled for his pocket.
A siren sounded in the distance, followed closely by at least four more. A surge of hope ran through my chest. Sheriff Bowley knew I was in trouble and was making as much noise as possible in an attempt to distract them and save my life.
“The cops? Really?” the Verdos leader yelled. Spit flew from his lips and he pressed the barrel of the gun harder into my head. It felt like my skull would break. “At least I can take one of you down first,” he muttered.
His finger tightened on the trigger with agonizing slowness. I stared into his demented gaze, wishing all the while I looked at Madelyn instead. I missed her face. I would never see it again.
A tear leaked from the corner of my eye, whether from pain or the hopelessness of the situation, I didn’t know. The Verdos’ gaze sharpened and he let out a laugh. “I’ll be the first and last to see the Black Rider cry.” His eyes narrowed. “Say good-bye, Rider.”
Before he could pull the trigger, I threw both legs up and wrapped them around his throat, pulling his arm back until his elbow was in full extension. I jerked the arm down and heard his elbow snap. A scream of agony tore from his lips and the gun fell from his hand.
The man with the two-by-four turned, ready to slam it down on my head, when a chink of metal on cement sounded. I shut my eyes and covered my ears. A percussion rocked the air and was followed by a flash so sharp my eyes burned despite the fact that they were closed. My ears rang and my head pounded as bad as it did when I’d had a concussion. I couldn’t remember where I was or what I was doing.
I forced my eyes open and saw a man rolling in agony next to me. He had a green bandana in his hand and his eyes were open, but he acted like he couldn’t see. My gaze focused on the green bandana. I suddenly remembered Magnum and the Verdos. A gun had been pressed to my head.
I searched for it wildly, my vision still spattered with spots and shadows. The other Verdos sprawled around me, moaning and rolling on the floor. Their leader held his arm with cries of agony. Magnum leaned against the wall as he struggled to stay standing. The sirens surrounded the gas station. I spotted the gun next to my helmet. I staggered to my feet and grabbed both, s
liding my helmet back over my head.
“Kelson! Magnum!” Sheriff Bowley called. Panic was evident in his voice.
“We’re okay,” I shouted. The sound made my head pound. Magnum helped me to my feet. I leaned against the wall, trying to stay upright. Blood dripped in my eye. I pushed the visor of my helmet up and searched for the source. My fingers found a deep gash through my eyebrow from the two-by-four. I pulled the visor back down just before the sheriff and a dozen other deputies appeared around the doorway I had battered down with my motorcycle.
The sheriff’s gaze swept the bodies quickly; relief flooded his face when he saw us near the far wall. “Thank goodness,” he said. He motioned to his men; they swarmed through the doors and began handcuffing the gang members.
The Verdos leader pushed up to his knees, cradling his broken arm. I pointed the gun at his head. “If you move, I will pull the trigger.”
Magnum shoved the man with the two-by-four onto the floor next to him. The sheriff crossed to me and pushed the leader to his stomach, then proceeded to slap handcuffs around his wrists. When he was done, he shoved his hat back and looked up at me. “I almost believed you’d do it.”
I let out a breath and held out the gun. He took it with a half smile as he stood. “Thought I’d find you both dead.”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “Would have been if it wasn’t for Magnum chucking that flash grenade when he did.”
“It was close,” Magnum echoed, shaking his head.
I took a step forward, then had to reach back to the wall for support. Magnum grabbed my arm to steady me. The stun grenade and being hit in the face with a beam didn’t bode well for my equilibrium.
The sheriff’s face creased with worry. “Did you get shot?”
I put a hand to my helmet. “Got hit in the head is all. Shook me up a bit.”
“Met a two-by-four that didn’t like him,” Magnum said.
Sheriff Bowley nodded. “Let’s get you guys out of here.”
He steered us out of the gas station and into the welcome embrace of night. Stars glittered down like shattered glass. Deputy Addison left the other deputies he was talking to and crossed to meet us.
“Get the Black Rider checked out at the hospital before he goes home,” the sheriff told his deputy.
“I’m fine,” I protested. “I’m not going to the hospital again.”
Deputy Addison chuckled. “You can barely walk straight.”
I shook my head. “I’m fine.”
“Good luck arguing with him,” Magnum said. “He’s stubborn as a mule.”
Sheriff Bowley sighed. “Go get checked at the ambulance. If they feel you need to go to the hospital, I don’t want an argument.”
A thought struck me before he walked away. “Sheriff?” He turned back with an expectant expression. “There’s a vest in there with grenades strapped to it. Tell your men to take care.”
His brows knit together. “How do we disarm it?”
“Call Jagger,” I replied. “He’ll know what to do.”
“I should’ve guessed as much,” the sheriff said.
I followed the deputy to the ambulance. Magnum walked next to me like a silent shadow, brooding in the dark evening. “Grab some butterfly bandages,” I told him. He stared at me like I was crazy. “I’ll meet you at the deputy’s car. The fewer people who know who we are, the better. It’ll be safer for them and us.”
“The sheriff said—” Deputy Addison began, but I shook my head.
“I have the right to refuse medical treatment.” I shrugged. “I’m just skipping the middleman.”
“By middleman, you meant EMT,” Magnum put in. “The one with real medical training.”
I grinned beneath my helmet. “You know that hasn’t stopped me before.”
He stalked off toward the ambulance, muttering things beneath his own helmet.
Deputy Addison opened the door and I sat on the seat. My head spun and I was grateful to be done moving. After a few minutes, the crunch of Magnum’s footsteps on gravel sounded around the car, then he opened the other door and sat down. He took off his helmet and threw it on the floor. “That wasn’t easy,” he growled. “They don’t like parting with their medical supplies.”
I glanced at him. “What did you tell them?”
He let out a huff at my humored tone. “That the Black Rider needs to see a psychiatrist.”
I chuckled. “You’re probably right.”
He rolled his eyes. “Luckily, it seems anything the Black Rider asks for is given to him.” He nudged the helmet on the ground with his foot. “This thing comes in handy. I think I’ve actually missed it.”
Deputy Addison started the car and pulled away from the gas station.
“Take off your helmet,” Magnum said in a resigned tone.
I eased it off and he flicked on the door light. By the look on his face, I was glad I couldn’t see what I looked like.
“Don’t know how I let you talk me into this stuff,” Magnum said. He grabbed several alcohol swabs and began cleaning the wound far more gently than I would have given him credit for.
After a couple of seconds of enduring the grimace on his face, I grabbed the swabs from him and used the helmet visor as a mirror to scrub the dried blood away myself to save him from doing it. I grimaced at the reflection. The skin above my eyebrow was extremely tender and bruises were already beginning to form along my forehead and around my right eye where the beam had hit. I probed my jaw and found it sore as well from the punch I had taken.
“You look like you got kicked by a cow,” Magnum muttered.
Deputy Addison grinned in the rearview mirror. “At least you’ve got your cover story.”
I nodded. “It’s no secret Uncle Rick’s Holsteins hold a grudge.”
“The Black Rider’s worst enemies,” Magnum said with a laugh. The deputy chuckled.
When the wound was clean, Magnum drew the butterfly bandages tight, pulling it closed. “You should probably get stitches,” he said, spreading gauze across the wound.
“Then I’d have to get them taken out again.”
“You’ll probably be back at the hospital before then,” Magnum reasoned coldly. He tore a piece of white tape and used it to hold the gauze in place. The silence that filled the car was palpable. When he tore the second piece of tape, it sounded louder than the concussion grenade had. He finally let out his breath in a heavy sigh. “Why did you make me leave?”
“I needed you to save my life,” I said. I met his angry gaze. “Somebody had to chuck that grenade.”
“I almost didn’t notice it,” he replied. He rubbed his split lip, then winced as though he had just remembered it was there. He tore one of the alcohol swabs open and used it to clean his chin. “You got lucky,” he said with a wince.
I nodded. “All the same, thanks.”
He rolled his eyes and took the helmet from me. He tore another swab open and began scrubbing the blood from inside the helmet.
Deputy Addison met my eyes in the mirror. “Be nice of the Black Rider to give us a bit more warning before he goes off on his adventures. Might get the both of you a little less beat up.”
I watched Magnum carefully clean the helmet. “I think it’s time for the Black Rider to take a break.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” the deputy said amiably.
“I’m serious.” The deputy and Magnum fell silent at my tone. I studied the seat in front of me to avoid looking at either of them. “It’s time to give in. The Verdos are incarcerated, the Brown Hawk gang won’t be bothering anyone for a long time, and Sparrow’s sheriff department can handle the rest.” I rubbed the fresh bandages on my forehead. “I think it’s time I call it quits.”
Deputy Addison broke the silence that followed. “Can’t say I’ll miss seeing you beat up. You deserve a break.” He met my gaze in the mirror and I read the stark remorse on his face. “Do what you need to. The town is in your debt.”
Magnum didn’t s
ay anything. He merely continued cleaning the helmet, replacing dirty swabs until they no longer came out colored dull brown from the dried blood.
I closed my eyes and listened to the quiet hum of the car over the road. I missed the growl of my motorcycle. Thoughts of Madelyn kept surfacing in my mind. I needed to call her, but didn’t want to do it with the deputy and Magnum listening. I missed her smile and the feeling of her fingers entwined in mine. Cassidy’s party couldn’t get here fast enough.
WHEN WE PULLED INTO the Ashbys’ driveway, Mom was the first one to the car. Everyone else crowded behind her. Apparently the sheriff had called. My stomach clenched at the concern on Mom’s face. I tried to act as though nothing had happened as I climbed out.
Mom took one look at my face and tears filled her eyes. “I’m so glad you’re back safe,” she said, putting a hand on my cheek. “I was so worried.”
I pulled her to the side, anxious to reassure her. “It’s all right, Mom. I’m fine and Magnum’s safe. The gang who kidnapped him has been arrested. Nothing like this should happen again.” I took a deep breath. “And I’m done. This was the Black Rider’s last ride.”
She nodded as though she wanted to believe me, but doubt showed in her eyes. “I just hate seeing you hurt.”
“He gave out worse than he got, trust me,” Magnum said, following me from the car. Cassidy ran forward, then stopped herself just behind Uncle Rick. Her father didn’t appear to notice how badly she wanted to make sure Magnum was all right. Magnum’s gaze held hers, then shifted quickly away before anyone saw.
“That’s for sure,” Deputy Addison said. “The shape those guys were in, they’ll think twice about messing with Sparrow again if they ever get out of jail, which is doubtful.” He held out his hand to my mom. “I’m Deputy Addison. I don’t think we’ve met.”
“Sarah Brady,” Mom replied with a small smile. “You say the gang is under control?”
“Sheriff Bowley is taking care of them as we speak,” he reassured her.