by Cheree Alsop
“Will you come with me for a sec? There’s something I have to do.”
Madelyn gave me a sleepy smile and followed me across the yard to where Cassidy was thanking her dad and mom again for the truck. I had lost count after her thirtieth time. “Um, Cass? I think we have a problem,” I said.
Everyone looked at me. I gave my aunt and uncle an innocent smile and motioned toward Magnum. “Magnum’s ride hasn’t shown up and he needs to get home to make dinner for his sister and brothers.” I hoped showing his responsible side would help things out a little.
Magnum looked up at the mention of his name. He watched me warily from across the yard, uncertain what I was doing.
Cassidy caught my look and excitement sparked in her eyes. “I could give him a ride in my new truck! He hasn’t had a turn yet.”
Uncle Rick gave the Bullet leader a steady look, studying him from head to toe. Magnum shifted from one foot to the other under the scrutiny.
“I don’t know how I feel about that,” Uncle Rick said.
“I’ll go with them,” Sandy offered before Cassidy could protest. “They could drop me off at my place.”
Aunt Lauren patted Uncle Rick’s arm. “They’ll be okay.”
He let out a loud sigh. “All right, but no dillydallying around. I want you to drop them both off and head straight back.”
“I will,” Cassidy reassured him, unable to keep the grin from her face. Sandy grabbed her hand and they giggled as they ran to Magnum.
“I’m not sure how I feel about your involvement in all this, Kelson,” Uncle Rick said.
“No one knows him better than I do,” I replied. “He’s a good guy.”
He studied me for a minute, then nodded. “Okay, but if anything happens, it’s on your head.”
“Think he saved my life just to throw it on the chopping block?” I asked Madelyn as we made our way back to the swing.
“Hopefully not,” she replied with a sweet smile. “That was nice of you.”
I shrugged. “At least he’s scared of Uncle Rick.”
“Fear of my dad didn’t keep you from sneaking into my yard,” she reminded me when we sat down.
The thought bothered me. “Think I need to go warn him to be careful?” I asked, starting to rise.
She pulled me back. “Slow down, Buck. You can’t go rushing into things.”
That made me stop. “Did you just call me your dog’s name?”
She laughed. “Yeah. Haven’t you seen the way he charges through the fields? He’s been sprayed by skunks so many times, we keep tomato juice in stock in our storage room.”
“I’m not sure I see the connection,” I said stubbornly.
She laughed at my chagrined look. “Time will tell if they’re going to work out. You gave them a chance—now don’t ruin it for them by charging in to break it up. Let them see what they’ll make of it.”
I gave her a suspicious glance. “You sound older than you are.”
She laughed again, a light, musical sound that chased away my lingering stubbornness. “I read a lot of Jane Austen.”
At her insistence, I had opened Pride and Prejudice once. By the end of the first page, I swore never to read anything about marriage and women again, much to Madelyn’s amusement. Her eyes sparkled at the reference. “Great,” I muttered.
She grinned and pillowed her head on my lap. I moved the swing slowly, smoothing her hair as she fell into a light sleep. I tipped my head against the back of the swing and studied the stars. They were so bright in the country. Even the lights strung across the yard were dim in comparison. The pale moon glowed half full near the horizon.
Mom was helping Aunt Lauren gather up plates while Jaren and Uncle Rick stacked chairs to be taken back to the church in the morning. Cole teased Jake with bits of ham from the finger sandwiches. The last of the partiers had returned home either with their friends or rides from family members who took pieces of cake home in gratitude. The grass was flattened by the ghost of footsteps, a silent reminder of the laughter and revelry that had taken place.
I watched it all with a feeling of satisfaction. I knew I should help, but I couldn’t bring myself to wake Madelyn or move from my designated position as her pillow. Mom must have guessed what I was thinking because she waved at me, indicated that I should stay put. I smiled and closed my eyes. My breathing slowed to the rhythm of the swing.
I LEFT SCHOOL EARLY and had Magnum drop me off at the junkyard without telling him my plan. Jagger was in town having lunch at the bar where Sally worked, an event that was becoming more of a tradition as time wore on despite his continued protests that he wasn’t attracted to her.
I sprayed polish on a rag and ran it along the CBR’s sides, causing the paint to gleam in the sunlight. I wiped dust from the chrome and made sure the mirrors were clean. Something inside whispered that I was stalling. I pulled the helmet from the peg in the lean-to and strapped it on, grateful for Magnum’s careful cleaning. I zipped a vest underneath my riding jacket by habit, and pulled on my gloves.
I turned the key and pressed the starter. A reluctant smile touched my lips when the engine growled to life. I rolled the throttle a few times just to hear it roar. I glanced back one last time at the shack, then pulled out of the junkyard.
The trip to the factory felt shorter than usual. When I got there, I found the place strangely empty. Maybe I had been quicker at the junkyard than I thought. I crossed the pavement to the starting line, then on a whim, drove the path of the race for old time’s sake. I took the corners slower than usual, enjoying the way my motorcycle responded to the slightest touch of throttle or lean. At one point, I thought I heard the rumble of another motorcycle, but none appeared.
When I rounded the last corner, my heart slowed at the sight of six black SUVs lined up where the students usually parked.
Two dozen FBI agents in sharp suits waited for me. I slowed, but didn’t stop. I would take whatever punishment they felt I deserved; despite my preparations, though, giving up the Black Rider felt wrong. Even if the town of Sparrow didn’t need him, I did because my blood boiled at the sight of people who got away with mistreating others. Riding toward the waiting agents felt like betraying the good I had been able to do in Sparrow. I wanted to protect Madelyn and my family from the worry I caused, but I wondered if Sparrow would be all right without me.
I stopped at the starting line and faced the agents on my motorcycle. It was the exact spot where I had landed when I jumped off the warehouse.
An agent on the right stepped forward. “Time to turn yourself in, Black Rider.” He adjusted his sunglasses and waited as though expecting me to climb off my motorcycle and walk to one of their vehicles without a fight.
I almost did just that. I reached for the key to my CBR, and then a sound touched my ears. Another followed, then a third. Soon, the rumbles of more engines than I could count flooded the factory. I looked over my shoulder in time to see street motorcycles, dirt bikes, four-wheelers, three-wheelers, and even a few riding lawn mowers roll through the wide doors of one of the warehouses.
My breath caught in my throat. Each machine was painted black, and the riders wore black helmets and black clothes. They sped toward me in a pack, a black mass that rumbled like the thundering hooves of a hundred stallions. I could feel the cement moving beneath my feet. It felt as though the very air pulsed with their presence. I held my breath when they neared, and smiled at the part that grew straight down the middle before they overtook me.
The majority of riders passed me, turned the corner, and circled back around the warehouse to create a swarm of riders the FBI agents would never be able to sort through. I laughed and wanted to cry at the same time. I shook my head, astonished and at a loss as to what I should do.
One very familiar rider pulled up next to me. Magnum had a girl riding with him that I recognized even with her helmet on. She slid the visor up. “Hey, Black Rider.”
I grinned at Madelyn even though she couldn’t see it through my visor. I he
ld out a hand and she crossed to my motorcycle.
“What’s all this?” I asked.
“You might be ready to give up the Black Rider,” she shouted above the roar of the engines, “but Sparrow isn’t.”
My heart sped up at her words, pounding hope and truth through my veins. She wrapped her arms around my waist. “What now?” I asked Magnum.
He grinned. “Ride,” he said before sliding his visor shut.
Madelyn’s arms tightened. I revved the engine and drove into the pack of waiting students. We watched as the lead FBI agent reached into his jacket for a cell phone and punched in a single number. A few terse words were exchanged. His jaw clenched. He pocketed the phone and motioned for his companions to retreat to their vehicles.
The students’ answering roar was louder than the engines. In a mass, we drove one giant loop around the factory, then sped across the dusty road to the waiting town beyond.
To my husband, Michael Alsop,
my soul mate and my true love.
Thank you for taking the time
to read everything I write.
Your support is priceless!
To my family for each adventure,
for trusting in my author’s dream,
and for making reality so much
fun!
I love you!
SILHOUETTES CROSSED THE WINDOW where none should have been at the late hour. I turned behind Craversham’s Odds and Ends and shut off the motorcycle. A beat-up green Chevy was parked near the back entrance. A rock propped open the door. A crowbar leaned against the truck, and there were scrapes along the doorframe of the store where the door had been forced open. I flexed my fingers in my black gloves.
Laughter echoed from the wide room that was crammed with antiquities and items that had probably been scavenged from hundreds of yard sales and now sat collecting dust on the many bookshelves. The scent of old books, perfume, and incense crept beneath my helmet. The lights Mrs. Craversham always left on near the middle of the store cast shadows between the aisles. The laughter drew closer. My heart began to pound. I fought back a smile.
“Not sure what this is, but it’ll make great target practice!” a boy with red hair exclaimed, coming into view at the end of the main aisle. He was walking backwards to address someone behind him.
“That’s all this junk is good for anyway,” an older voice answered. The man walked around the corner carrying two upside-down lamp shades filled with colored glass bottles. He looked past the red-headed boy and stopped when he saw me. “Lem,” he called over his shoulder. “Things just got interesting.”
The boy with red hair turned around and his eyes widened. He stepped to the side as his companion shoved past. The man’s gaze narrowed at the sight of his reflection on my dark-tinted visor. “Isn’t that a bit like wearing sunglasses indoors?”
I blocked the first thrown bottle with my forearm and ducked the second. My senses strained. I knew there was at least one more person in the store. With the shelves and aisles, there was no telling where he would come from. I backed up slowly, intent on finding a wall to protect my back.
“What’s the matter, Black Rider? Scared?” the man asked. He chuckled and threw another bottle. I grabbed a pink plastic flamingo from the floor and used it to block the projectile. The bottle hit the end of a bookshelf and shattered.
A man yelled from the shadows. He came out holding his cheek. “Watch it, Jeff!” Lem barked.
“It wasn’t me. I was aiming for him,” Jeff pointed out.
A trickle of blood showed on Lem’s cheek when he took his hand away. He touched it, then glared at his fingers. “Look what you did,” he said in a dangerous tone.
I shrugged. “Lucky aim.”
His expression darkened.
“Careful, Lem. He’s the Black Rider,” Jeff said.
“Do I look like an idiot?” Lem shot back.
I nodded. “You do.”
Lem let out a growl and charged. He ran at me like a bull, his head lowered and his eyes threatening death. I stepped to the side like a matador and drove an elbow into his back as he passed. He crashed into one of the bookshelves. Another bottle bounced off my helmet and smashed on the floor. Jeff held the other high and charged after his friend. I had no idea where they had gotten their combat skills, but they definitely needed some pointers.
I blocked the bottle with my forearm and punched Jeff in the stomach, followed by a haymaker that landed behind his ear and dropped him to the floor. Lem clambered back to his feet. I landed two jabs in his ribs and finished with a left haymaker that turned the guy completely around before he fell to the ground.
I looked at the red-headed boy who watched wide-eyed from the end of the aisle. He hadn’t moved since Jeff shoved past him. “Do you want in on this?” I asked cordially.
He shook his head. “No way, man. I’m smarter than they are.”
“If you’re smarter than them, how’d you get caught up in this?” I asked.
He shrugged and looked thoroughly ashamed.
I slipped my cell phone from my jacket pocket. “I’m going to call the cops. If you don’t mean trouble, put your hands behind your head and I’ll ask them to let you off easy.”
The boy set the glass elephant he had been holding on the floor and dropped to his stomach with his hands behind his head. I glanced at the other two. Jeff moaned and held his head; Lem was out cold. I pressed the speed dial button for Sheriff Bowley.
“We need to talk,” he said without saying hello.
Surprised, I replied, “I have a couple of robbers here at Craversham’s, if you want to come collect them. We could talk then.”
He paused, then said, “You’re at the antique store?”
I couldn’t figure out why he sounded so confused. “I was riding past and saw guys inside. I thought Mrs. Craversham would appreciate some intervention.” I glanced around. “Though a bit of a cleanup might be in order.”
“I’m not surprised,” the sheriff replied. “We’ll be there in a minute.”
I hung up, feeling like I was missing something. I glanced at the boy to ascertain that he was still on the floor. He hadn’t moved. The pink flamingo had seen more action than he had. I let out a small breath and leaned against one of the bookshelves. My side throbbed. The wound from the knife at the gas station was healing, but it was a constant reminder of the close brushes with death I had experienced since taking up residence in Sparrow.
The attack on the school and then the hostage situation with Magnum and the Verdos gang were only the most recent. I had promised Mom and the sheriff I would lie low as the Black Rider for a while. Maybe that was why he was upset at me for stopping the theft at Craversham’s, but for reasons I couldn’t explain, I wouldn’t have been able to drive by and ignore the situation even if the FBI was waiting for me. As desperate as they were to find out my identity, they might revert to something like a fake robbery to flush me out. The idea made me uneasy.
Flashing lights heralded the sheriff and his deputies. I waited behind a bookshelf until I was sure the FBI hadn’t come with them.
“Black Rider?” Sheriff Bowley called at the doorway.
“Come on in,” I replied. “Everyone’s down.”
The sheriff walked in, followed by Deputy Nayton and Deputy Addison. Addison gave me a warm smile and a nod on his way past. He was one of the very few who knew my real identity. He had driven me home after the last fight with the Verdos, and also been in charge of switching my ER-6N for the CBR I now rode to reduce a little heat from the FBI until they figured out I had changed rides. I nodded back with gratitude.
Deputy Nayton held out a hand. “Good to see you,” he said, his words gruff.
I shook his hand and smiled, even though he couldn’t see it beneath my tinted visor. “Same to you, Deputy. At least circumstances are better than last time.”
“Much better,” the deputy replied. “From what I hear, thanks to you, that man won’t ever be able to touch a
girl again.”
I nodded with mixed emotions of relief and frustration. My girlfriend, Madelyn, had beaten her uncle almost to death with a baseball bat when he attempted to rape her after her mother’s funeral. The Black Rider had taken the rap to protect her from the press in case Mitch died. He hadn’t, but instead, the trauma had paralyzed him from the neck down. In my opinion, he didn’t deserve to even be alive. My hands clenched into fists as anger from the memories flooded me.
“Easy, now,” Deputy Nayton said quietly. “It’s in the past. He’s no longer a threat.”
I willed my fists to unclench. “Just a little tense from the fight,” I said, tipping my head to indicate the men Deputy Addison was handcuffing.
He nodded. “Looks like you took care of them fairly easily.”
I shrugged. “A few bottles and a pink flamingo were the true victims here.”
He chuckled. “I’ll be sure to let Mrs. Craversham know.”
I walked behind Sheriff Bowley as he led the redhead out to his car. He helped the boy duck inside, then shut the door. When he turned back, his expression was unreadable.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“You’d better follow us to the station,” he replied.
I nodded. “Do I need to be concerned?”
He ran a hand over his short-trimmed brown mustache and beard. “The fact that you’re here, yeah. Maybe we can get to the bottom of this.” He climbed into the car without expounding.
The other two cars already held Jeff and Lem. Jeff glared at me from the backseat. I climbed onto my motorcycle and waved at him when they passed. I was vaguely surprised the window didn’t melt under his hate-filled glare. I chuckled and drove behind the police cars to the station.
THE DEPUTIES WORKING THAT night greeted me like I was one of them. It felt strange to walk through the police station and accept handshakes and pats on the back. No one besides Sheriff Bowley and Deputy Addison knew my true identity, yet everyone recognized the black helmet and riding clothes of the Black Rider.