by Cheree Alsop
It took walking behind the crowd to the barbecue stand to convince my muscles to relax completely. The thought of others in danger and memories of getting myself shot warred within my head. Perhaps it was best I had chosen not to join the parade as the Black Rider.
I paid for one turkey leg. I had planned on getting two, but my appetite had fled. I handed the leg to Madelyn.
“You’re not hungry?” she asked.
I sank onto my chair. “Not right now. I might grab one later.”
“They might be gone if your Aunt Lauren has anything to do with it,” Madelyn replied, pointing at where Uncle Rick was going to buy yet another turkey leg to feed his pregnant wife.
Aunt Lauren threw us an innocent smile. “This baby’s hungry.”
“Maybe it’s three boys,” Mom replied.
Aunt Lauren laughed. “Rick would be thrilled. More hands for the farm.”
Massive horses with fur on their hooves and their tails cropped short came by pulling an old fire engine and several wagons that had been painted black and red. The high school marching band followed. I smiled at the sight of Martin carrying a clarinet on the second row. He waved when he saw me.
“Who’s that?” Mom asked, leaning around Aunt Lauren.
“Martin Carrison,” I replied. “He’s the one who used to write the articles in the Bulldog Bulletin.”
“He was really good,” she said. I rolled my eyes, and she laughed. “Oh, come on. You enjoyed them. Why isn’t he still writing?”
“He got suspended for the last article. I’m trying to help him get put back on the Bulletin, but Principal Dawson says he’s getting a lot of flak from the school board about inconsistencies in the paper. It may be a while.”
Mom nodded. “The ladies at work showed me his concerns about drugs increasing in Sparrow. Has the sheriff been having any luck with that?” She waved at Deputy Addison as the deputies drove behind the sheriff’s truck. Their lights whirled, and occasionally Sheriff Bowley would turn on the siren. Everyone covered their ears, and kids laughed at the sound.
“He’s working on it,” I yelled over the siren.
She nodded, then her attention shifted to the street and she paused.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
She motioned. I turned and my breath caught in my throat.
A rider all in black rode behind the deputies. He revved his engine when the siren stopped.
“The Black Rider!” people in the audience called out. Cheers spread down the street.
The rider revved his engine again. He seemed to search the crowd, his dark-tinted visor reflecting the people waiting on the sidewalks and the children rushing forward to pick up candy from the beauty queen float. He spotted my family, and then locked in on me.
My heart stopped entirely when he lifted a gloved hand and pointed a finger directly at me. Everyone in the Ashby family looked my way. All sound fell away. I saw only the rider, his finger singling me out from the crowd. He knew who I was. My family wasn’t safe.
I jumped up.
“Where are you going?” Madelyn asked. Mom stared at me.
“I’ve got to go after him. He knows who I am. Everyone’s in danger,” I said.
I met Magnum’s gaze. “Take my bike,” he said, motioning toward the blue CBR parked at the corner of the block.
He held up his helmet. I grabbed it as I ran by and shoved it on my head. I reached the motorcycle and started it before I was even set. The tires burned the pavement as the motorcycle spun in a circle. I took off through the crowd and onto the parade route.
The copycat saw me coming. He gave up his mocking actions and downshifted. His motorcycle sped forward. I chased him through the police cars. The sirens turned on for real, but we had already reached the beginning of the parade and left them far behind. The copycat drove between one set of soldiers and I darted around the last one on the right. The cleared main street spread out before us.
The copycat took a right turn sharp enough to scrape his knee on the ground. I followed close behind, intent on reaching him before he could escape. He righted himself, darted left down a gap between two small warehouses, and then turned right down the next road. My front tire was inches from his back one. I debated clipping him. It was risky without my normal protective riding gear, but it would be easier for the FBI to find us if I stopped him in town. I downshifted and darted forward.
I was about to clip his tire when he suddenly turned left into a warehouse. I followed him without hesitation. The door was shoved shut behind us, closing out most of the light. My heart clenched. I gripped my front brake and slammed my foot down on the other one. The bike stopped in a cloud of burned rubber and dust.
The copycat climbed off his bike as five more men in black stepped from the shadows. I didn’t recognize any of them. Guns showed in several hands, along with other weapons. I immediately regretted not wearing my vest.
I shoved my visor up. “How do you know who I am?” I demanded.
The rider took off his helmet. His hair was buzzed short and the humored smile he gave showed teeth capped in gold that caught in the faint light of the warehouse.
“Apparently, you revealed your identity to the wrong person,” he replied.
My thoughts immediately went to Martin. Perhaps his contacts had much more to do with the drugs in town than he had let on. It made sense, with all the information he had, and his family was well connected within every aspect of Sparrow. The first negative article on the Black Rider was about Joe’s store, and Joe was his grandfather. Perhaps the articles that put the Black Rider in a bad light had been more to his benefit than he let on.
“Climb off your motorcycle,” Gold Teeth said, giving the gun he held a little flick to demonstrate the necessity of my obedience.
I stepped slowly off the CBR with a sick feeling in my stomach. Releasing my hand from the bike felt like the worst thing I could do. I glanced down. I hadn’t turned the key off or put down the kickstand. Before anyone could move, I pressed the starter and revved the throttle. I kicked the bike down to first and let go.
The bike slammed into three of the copycats and sent them into the wall. I dove to the right as bullets peppered where I had been standing.
I came up behind a stack of pallets. A few more bullets hit the wood. I ducked as low as I could. “You don’t want to do this,” I called.
At a barked command, the bullets stopped.
“Why not?” the leader yelled. “Have we got the wrong guy?”
Several of the others laughed. Someone moaned in pain near the wall. I wondered how badly the three had been hurt by the bike, and how badly the bike was damaged. I had driven into a death trap. I was determined to drive out of it again.
“You’ve got the right guy,” I told them, trying to buy some time. “I just need to know who sent you.”
Gold Teeth laughed. “And why would we tell you that?”
“Because I need to know,” I replied.
“He needs to know,” one of the other copycats said, his voice tight. “Well, I need my leg not to be broken. You gonna take care of that?”
“I know a good doctor,” I said.
“Enough,” Gold Teeth barked. “I’m tired of this.”
I heard the crunch of debris beneath his feet as he stepped toward the exposed side of the pallets. I had the option to fight or die.
I dove as soon as he came into view. I tackling him around the waist and we slammed into the wooden floor. He kicked out and caught me in the stomach, shoving me back. I spun and kicked, knocking his feet out from under him before he could rise. His hand hit the ground and his gun slid out of his grip. We both jumped for it.
Shadows announced the other men closing in before I reached the gun. I jumped up and blocked a knife, slugged the man low in the stomach, and slammed my elbow into his jaw. Another knife was bearing down. I blocked it with both forearms, caught his arm with one hand, ducked underneath it, and jerked up. He let out a yell of pain as he col
lapsed to the floor. I turned to the next man.
“Enough,” Gold Teeth barked.
I froze at the sight of the gun he aimed at my head.
“Take off your helmet,” he growled.
I had no choice. The men around me backed away as I pulled the helmet off. I glanced around for a way out. Everyone had guns aimed at me. It was going to be a bloodbath—my bloodbath.
I gripped the helmet tight, preparing to throw it at him to make one last effort to survive. The number of guns said it was a failed effort before it began. Gold Teeth’s finger tightened on the trigger. I drew my arm back.
“Come out with your hands up,” a voice echoed through the warehouse.
Gold Teeth’s eyes widened. He jerked his head at one of the men. They scrambled to the door.
“It’s the FBI,” the man called over his shoulder.
“You set us up,” Gold Finger said, his eyes sparking in the half light. “Now, you die.”
I moved before he could react. My helmet slammed into his gun hand as he pulled the trigger. The shot echoed through the warehouse. I barreled him into two of the other men, and was past them before they could retaliate. One man lay motionless beside the motorcycle. Another was holding his leg and appeared to be in shock. I pulled the motorcycle up and jumped on. The engine growled when I pressed the starter. Gratitude that it hadn’t flooded from the fall surged through me as I revved the engine.
Shots sounded. I crouched low over the motorcycle and gunned it toward the warehouse door. A man jumped in front of me. I jerked the bike down on its right side, sliding along the wooden floor. The tires hit the man, knocking his legs out from under him. I kicked out, righting the bike just before I reached the door.
The wood splintered out. I jumped the curb and skidded around the FBI vehicles waiting along the sidewalk. Guns were trained on me. I braked in a hard circle and held up my hands.
“He’s okay,” Agent Devereaux called out. “Watch the warehouse!”
The men came out firing, but the FBI’s accuracy was unmatched. In the space of a few heartbeats, the men were lying on the ground. Three had taken bullets, while Gold Teeth crouched with his hands on his head.
“Lie on the ground,” Agent Devereaux commanded.
Gold Teeth did as he was instructed.
“How many are in there?” the agent called over his shoulder.
“One is unconscious, one has a broken leg, and another has a dislocated shoulder,” I told him.
His eyebrows rose, the only sign of surprise I realized I could expect from him. “Save any for us?” he asked.
I nodded toward the door. “Just them, as far as I’m aware.”
He nodded and motioned toward the team waiting near one of the vans. They ran to the doors.
Agent Devereaux crossed to me. “You all right?”
I climbed off the motorcycle. My hands were shaking. I wiped them on my pants in an effort to stop it. “Fine,” I replied. I glanced down, amazed that it was true. Somehow, in the midst of the shooting and slamming through the door, I had survived. “How about you?”
The agent cracked a smile. “Fine. Thanks for asking.”
I took a calming breath and watched them handcuff Gold Teeth. After a few minutes, I glanced at Agent Devereaux, who was also watching the proceedings. “You going to take me in?”
He adjusted his sunglasses before looking at me. His silence unnerved me. I could picture spending the night in jail with a few of the inmates I had helped to put there. He looked back at Gold Teeth. “You did good here. Got any idea who might be behind this?”
“I might.” I willed the fear that gripped my heart to ease. “A man rode in the parade dressed at the Black Rider. When he passed us, he pointed right at me. That’s when I chased him.”
“They know who you are,” Agent Devereaux noted. “Any idea who might have told them?”
“What do you know about the Carrisons?” I asked.
The agent watched me. “Are they a family in town?”
I nodded. “Well connected, and Martin, the one in high school, knows who I am. It might be worth investigating.”
“We’ll get on that. In the meantime, keep an ear out. We’ve taken out copycat riders right and left. Whoever’s behind this is going to start getting desperate. We’ll help keep your family safe if you help us find the source of the riders.”
“It’s a deal,” I told him.
WHEN I DROVE INTO the Ashbys’ driveway, everyone came rushing out of the house.
“Are you all right?” Mom asked.
“We were so worried,” Aunt Lauren said.
“I’m okay,” I told them as I climbed off the bike.
Magnum and Cassidy reached me. Magnum looked the bike up and down. “Rough ride?”
“The FBI said they’ll repair the damages.”
He gave a half smile. “It’s not the bike I’m worried about.”
I smiled back. “I’m fine, really.” I handed him the helmet. “Thanks to you, we took six more of these guys in.”
Mom’s hand flew to her mouth. “Six more copycats? And you fought them?”
I could tell she was trying to maintain her composure. I took her gently by the elbow and led her to the porch swing so she could sit down. “I’ll tell you what happened if you promise to hear me out,” I told her.
The rest of the Ashby family crowded behind me. Uncle Rick stood behind Aunt Lauren, his arms crossed in front of his chest and a concerned look on his face. Cole looked like he would burst if I didn’t tell them. He hopped from one foot to the other, and I knew it was only Aunt Lauren’s hand on his shoulder that kept him from bombarding me with questions. Jaren looked pensive. He kept glancing at the motorcycle. The scratches in the chrome and blue paint were stark.
“Should we go in the house?” I asked.
“No!” everyone replied.
I held up a hand with a laugh. “Fine, I’ll tell you right here.”
I took a seat on the swing next to Mom. The others settled on the grass. It felt like I was in charge of story time at kindergarten as everyone got comfortable and looked up at me with expectant expressions. Aunt Lauren settled against Uncle Rick, who leaned forward and rested a hand on her stomach. He met my gaze and nodded.
“You guys saw the copycat rider point at me,” I began. At their nods, I let myself remember everything I had put into the report for Deputy Devereaux. “They knew who I was. I couldn’t let them get away or my family would be in danger.” Aunt Lauren’s eyes filled with tears. I glanced away from her. “When I chased him on Magnum’s bike, he took off down the side roads. I was going to clip his tire to send him down so I could catch him.”
I glanced at Magnum. He knew how dangerous that was. His eyebrows pinched together.
“I had almost reached him when he darted left into a warehouse.” I looked at Mom, unsure how much to tell her.
“The truth,” she said firmly. “Tell us everything that happened.”
I nodded reluctantly. “I followed him into the warehouse and they shut the door. Five other men came from the shadows.”
“Awesome!” Cole breathed.
“Hush,” Aunt Lauren whispered.
“They had guns and knives,” I said, my voice softer as I remembered. Everyone leaned in, intent on the story; only Mom seemed to remember that it had just happened to her son. Her hand gripped mine. “The leader told me to get off the motorcycle. I knew it would be a bad idea, so I revved the bike into three of them.”
“Cool!” Cole said.
“Quiet,” Uncle Rick replied.
“Sorry, Magnum,” I apologized.
“It was a good idea,” he said. “I’m glad you thought of it.”
“Then what happened?” Cassidy asked.
“They started shooting. I dove behind some pallets.” Mom’s hand tightened in mine. I decided to skip the most dangerous part for her sake. “Then the FBI showed up and arrested them.”
Magnum’s eyebrows rose slightly
as if he suspected I had left out something.
“That’s really neat,” Cassidy said.
Jaren looked confused. “How did the FBI know where you were?”
I pulled out my phone. “They gave me this when I lost mine in the library fire. It has a tracking device.”
“That’s impressive,” Jaren said.
The phone the FBI had lent me and programmed with my number was far better than any I had owned to that point.
“When did you meet with the FBI?”
Mom’s tone made me pause. I glanced at her. The expression on her face was pensive. “I, uh, met with them a couple of days ago. Sheriff Bowley set it up. They wanted to help with the copycat riders, and we needed more help,” I explained as casually as I could.
“And when they’re done helping?” Mom asked.
I attempted a nonchalant shrug. “I’ll have to see what happens. I’m hoping that if we work together to get this resolved, they’ll have less interest in the Black Rider when we’re through.”
Mom nodded, but I could tell she was unconvinced.
“I’ve got to get going,” Magnum said, rising suddenly and breaking the tension. “I promised Jessica she could go to the library, and I don’t think Aunt Julia can handle Tommy for long without him destroying the place.”
“We’ve got work to do around here,” Uncle Rick said. “The festival starts at four tomorrow. I guess we’ll see you there?”
Cassidy looked from her father to Magnum. The acceptance in Uncle Rick’s voice made her smile so big, she could barely contain herself. “Will we?” she echoed.
Magnum nodded. “I couldn’t keep my siblings away if I tried. We’ll be there.”
Magnum met my gaze and gave a minute tip of his head. I hung back from the others with the appearance of checking the motorcycle over to make sure I hadn’t done more damage than I thought. It was pretty beat up, but the FBI’s promise that they would repair what had happened made me feel a little bit better.
“Are you really okay?” he asked in an undertone when the others were back in the house.
“I’m fine,” I replied with a smile at his concern. “I got lucky. Really lucky.”
“Sounds like it,” he said. He ran a hand over the motorcycle. “I’m not worried about this. I know you’ll take care of it.” He blew out a breath and shook his head. “But six to one? Man, you really did get lucky.”