by Cole, Cassie
A car engine purred to life behind me. I whirled to see the Honda Accord backing up, slamming into the station wagon. Tires squealed as he threw it in drive and then drove south out of town.
“Smartest thing Scott’s ever done,” Charlotte muttered.
But I turned to see Sid’s reaction, because I knew it wasn’t over. He gestured with a hand. Two of the bikers zoomed past us, shooting down the road to chase after Scott. I almost felt bad for the guy. He may have been a selfish piece of shit who had hurt Charlotte, but he didn’t deserve whatever was going to happen to him next.
“Hawk,” Sid said, turning his attention to me. He was smiling again like we were old friends. “You decided to finally come clean. Doesn’t it feel good to get it off your chest? To admit the crimes you have committed against your family?”
The mention of family was another dig designed to provoke a reaction. I ignored him and pointed at the backpack next to my bike. “Your money’s right there.”
Sid eyed the bag, but kept his distance. “And how do I know there’s not a grenade in there waiting for me to open the zipper?”
I shrugged. “You don’t.”
“Toss it over,” Sid commanded. Then he held up one finger, like a teacher lecturing a student. “And if you put your hand anywhere near the shotgun on the side of your bike, my boys’ll make a mess of you here on the road that’ll take a whole bunch of community service hours to clean up.”
I moved slowly toward the bike while a dozen weapons aimed at me from the bikers. Keeping my distance from the shotgun, I leaned forward to grab the strap of the backpack and pull it closer. Then I swung it underhand toward Sid. It landed halfway between our hodgepodge group of Eastland citizens and the army of Copperheads.
Sid gestured. “Tommy. Check the bag.”
The biker to his left gawked. “But Sid. You just said a grenade might be in there.”
“Which is why you’re checking and not me.”
“Some family, huh?” I said loudly.
Tommy—who was one of the too-skinny tweaker kind of Copperheads—nervously approached the backpack. He put down his baseball bat and then lifted the bag with both hands, testing the weight. He unzipped it with trembling hands, then reached inside.
Sid was watching him. So were the other bikers. This could be my best chance. Reach back, grab the sheriff’s pistol from my waistband, and shoot Sid in the chest. End the fucker’s reign here and now. I was almost certain I could get at least one shot off before the goons riddled me with bullets.
But my plan had one fatal problem: I wasn’t alone like I’d hoped. Behind me were Charlotte, her parents, and Mindy. A hail of gunfire aimed in this direction would kill everyone several times over. It wasn’t just my life I was throwing away.
I was ready and willing to die right here. But I couldn’t make that decision for the others. Not even the sheriff and judge.
So while Tommy checked the bag contents, I kept my hands motionless at my side.
“This is our money alright,” Tommy said. “But it’s not all of it.”
“It’s not about the money,” Sid said in the tone of a preacher who’d reached the climax of his sermon. “Don’t care how much of that we get back. It’s about making sure justice is done. Isn’t that right, Judge Benjamin?”
“Sid, please,” he begged. “Release us so that we may—”
“Justice,” Sid went on, “means ensuring nobody steals from me ever again. Now that Hawk here has confessed in front of you, me, and God, such justice can be given and received. It will be a lesson to all current and future Copperheads. No man steals from Sid and lives.”
His eyes bore into me, wide and dilated. He was as high as could be right now. More dangerous than usual. Waiting to see if I would try to fight back. So were the other bikers with their fingers on the trigger. There’s no way I would get a shot off now.
Best case scenario? Sid hauled me away from the others and killed me in private. Sparing everyone else’s lives, and sparing Charlotte from having to watch me die.
Grief filled my chest. I’d fucked up again. Wasted my one shot. I wished I could have done all of this differently. Joining the Copperheads, stealing their money once I realized where it came from, allowing Theresa to be killed. I had so many regrets in life.
The one thing I didn’t regret was Charlotte. Out of my entire shitty fucking life, she was a beacon of good. Sunshine banishing the darkness, even only for a few weeks.
I love you, Peaches, I thought to myself, since I couldn’t say it out loud. I’ll always love you.
“It’s time to make you pay,” Sid announced.
I held my chin up high. “I’ll accept whatever punishment you think is best, Sid. I deserve it.”
He laughed. Sid laughed often, but this laugh was different. Not the normal half-humorous, half-mocking laugh he normally let out. This laugh was more excited. Almost gleeful. Like he had a surprise he couldn’t wait to reveal.
My heart sank when I realized why.
“We’re not going to hurt you,” Sid said.
And then his eyes swung over to Charlotte.
45
Charlotte
I watched helplessly as Hawk grabbed the backpack of money and tossed it toward Sid. I could barely believe what I was watching. He was giving himself up. Admitting that he stole the money and returning it to the ruthless maniac who’d been after him all this time.
And it was all my fault.
By confronting Hawk last night, I’d goaded him into turning in the money. He thought he had nothing to live for. He believed he had to make this grand gesture to prove that he wasn’t the man I thought he was.
And he was going to die for it.
My dad had watched the scene quietly, shuffling his weight from one foot to the other. Except it wasn’t just nervous shuffling. He was slowly moving toward the station wagon. To the open driver-side door.
Where his service weapon waited in a holster underneath the dashboard.
“Dad!” I whispered. “Don’t do anything drastic.”
My dad kept his eyes on the Copperheads while inching closer to his open car door. “Honey, you don’t understand,” he whispered under his breath. “I have a plan.”
“A plan?” I hissed back. “You’re one man against an army of them.”
“Honey, be quiet.” He was almost within reach of the car, now.
And then the most chilling sound split the air: Sid laughing. It was high-pitched and maniacal, a laugh of madness rather than mirth.
“We’re not going to hurt you,” he said, looking past Hawk at me. “We’re here for your girlfriend.”
I froze. No.
Hawk glanced over his shoulder, then made himself laugh. “Who, that bitch? Do what you want with her. Especially if it tires you out before it’s my turn.”
The words stung with how sincere they sounded, but I knew it was Hawk doing his best to dissuade Sid. Trying to save my life.
Momma balled her hands into fists. “What did you just call my daughter, you tattooed biker punk?”
Sid’s smile never wavered. “Here’s the thing. We got a phone call about an hour ago. A very interesting phone call. It was from a man working on a shipping freighter halfway to China. He was having himself a smoke down in the cargo area, and then he heard someone banging on one of the shipping containers.”
Oh no, I thought.
“See, we thought Jesse had abandoned the Copperheads,” Sid went on. “Surprising on account of how loyal he was, but these things happen. Turns out the truth is a lot more sinister.”
Hawk tensed, then put his hands on his hips. That motion brought his hand very close to the pistol sticking out the back of his jeans. “I remember Jesse. The tweaker who’d tell any lie to get another fix.”
Before Hawk finished his weak defense, Sid was already laughing some more. “Something tells me that’s not the case here.” He tilted his head. “You know, I didn’t think we’d find a way to get to you. Y
ou had nothin’ to lose, and it’s tough to squeeze leverage from a man like that. Turns out, you do still have some life left in you. At least, for a few more minutes.”
Sid gestured. Three of his men came walking forward, shotguns held in front of them.
Supposedly, you saw your life flash before your eyes in moments like these. I saw the opposite: I saw the future. How everything would play out here on the main street of the little Georgia town of Eastland. It flashed across my eyes in flawless clarity.
Hawk would reach for that pistol, and half a dozen shotguns would cut him down before it left his waistband. My father would then jump for his gun, and since he was farther from sight he might actually get one or two shots off from the cover of the station wagon. That would only upset the Copperheads though, and once he was dead they would take revenge on Momma. They would probably kill her first, just to make me watch. Then it would be my turn. Somewhere in there Flop or Mindy might try to fight back, but it would be a pitiful effort against all these Copperheads.
In the end, all of us would be dead. Sid and most of his men would walk away. Maybe even with the judge and sheriff, too.
And all of this would happen because I couldn’t stay away from a handsome bad-boy biker with eyes like shimmering sapphires.
“No,” I whispered while my dad reached for the interior of the car. “Please…”
“Charlotte!” Sid called, waving me forward. “Come on up here and join the party, girl. We want to dance with you.”
Hawk’s hand moved behind him, fingers wrapping around the gun.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered to everyone and no one. “I’m so sorry.”
Dad finally leaned down into his car, but it wasn’t a gun he grabbed. What he held up to his mouth was a walkie-talkie.
“Now,” he hissed into it. “Everyone move in!”
The sound of police sirens filled the air in the distance. The approaching Copperheads froze in place, and Hawk let go of the gun and allowed his hand to drift back to his side.
“What is that?” Sid asked, whirling around. “What the fuck is that!”
The police cars came from both the north and south like two swarms of bees converging on a single patch of flowers. The Copperheads spun around, watching the police arrive in all directions and wondering how best to defend themselves. The police cars formed two lines, blocking everyone in on this section of the main street. Officers spilled out of the cars and took cover from behind open doors, weapons aimed at the Copperheads.
“What did you do?” I asked my dad.
He drew his own gun now and rested it on the door frame. “Told you I had a plan.”
The Copperheads still outnumbered the police, but it was almost an even fight. Plus the police had the bikers surrounded.
This is about to become a bloodbath.
“Sidney Baca-Santos,” a policewoman to the north called out from a megaphone. “Have your gang drop their weapons and surrender peacefully. There’s no need for blood.”
“Won’t be no blood if you pigs ride back out of town,” Sid said loudly.
“Run to the diner,” dad whispered. “Both of you.”
I realized he was talking to me and Momma. She nodded, but I resisted. “I can’t.”
Dad gawked at me. “What do you mean, you can’t?”
I looked back at Hawk. He was still standing in the middle of the road, hair blowing gently in the breeze. He was more than just some biker boy I’d slept with these last weeks. He was a man I cared about.
I’m in love with that man, which means I can’t just run away.
“Copperheads,” the policewoman with the megaphone boomed. “Look around. You’re surrounded. Throw down your weapons.”
“Don’t die for Sid,” Hawk shouted to his former gang. “He sure as hell would never die for any of you.”
“No,” Sid said, whirling to face Hawk. “But you will.”
In one smooth motion, Sid pulled something from his side, raised it to the man I loved, and pulled the trigger.
The gunshot was tremendously loud. It echoed off the few surrounding buildings, and birds took flight from the nearby trees. For a split second, everything was silent. Peaceful. Like the eye of a hurricane.
And then all hell broke loose.
One police officer returned fire, then a cluster of others, then every single one of them. The Copperheads jumped to the ground and took cover behind their bikes as the firefight began, shotguns and pistols adding their own sounds to the fray. The gunshots from the initial barrage was so constant it was like popcorn in a microwave. Men and women on both sides were hit and fell to the ground.
But I had eyes only for Hawk. At first, I didn’t think the shot had hit him. He stood motionless, then tried to reach behind him to grab his pistol. That simple motion caused him to fall to his knees, and then he collapsed onto his side.
“Hawk!” I shrieked.
Dad grabbed my arm, and I shook him off. Then I was sprinting across the open pavement while gunshots sounded all around me and bullets hissed through the air. The danger was easy to ignore because in that moment my mind held a single focus: get to Hawk. My own safety didn’t matter.
I don’t know how I reached him without getting shot. I fell to my knees next to him and touched his cheek, which seemed to revive him. He blinked rapidly, then his eyes locked onto mine. Then he winced.
“Peaches,” he said in a rough voice. “I think I’ve been shot.”
Blood was spreading along his side, staining his grey shirt and the biker jacket over top. It wasn’t a lot of blood. I wasn’t a medical expert, but it seemed like moving him out of the open—and getting myself out of the open in the process—was the best idea.
I grabbed his arm, and then my dad was there alongside me. “Drag him,” he said, taking the other arm and pulling. Together, we dragged him across the pavement and back to the station wagon. Halfway there, a bullet ricocheted off the pavement by Hawk’s leg. I cringed and prayed the entire rest of the way to cover.
“What is wrong with you!” Momma demanded when we were behind the car. “Why would you do that!”
“Is he going to be okay?” I demanded of my dad. He pulled Hawk’s shirt up, revealing his belly and side. The beautiful lines of muscle were now marred by a red smear just under his left nipple.
“I’m fine…” Hawk protested. “It—oww.”
Dad was probing around the wound, and then rolled Hawk onto his side. There was another smear of red behind him. “Bullet went all the way through. That’s good.”
“Told you I’m fine,” Hawk said, pushing to his feet.
“Stay there!” I barked at him. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I feel okay. Kind of stings a little bit. You doing okay, Peaches?”
“Oh yeah,” I said acidly. “I’m just super.”
I looked around. Mindy was leading the sheriff and judge into her diner. Neither of them needed any encouraging to get to safety. Several Copperheads lay on the ground, but most of them were fleeing the killing zone of the road. Several ran over into the ditch along the side of the road, while others ran straight for the diner. Mindy got inside just in time to lock the doors to keep them out.
“Shooters in the building on the left!” one of the cops behind us shouted. “Put some fire on that bar!”
I realized they were talking about Flop. I jumped up and waved my arms. “Don’t! They’re on our side!”
Dad grabbed me and yanked me back down. “Have you lost your mind?”
“I think I have.”
Dad growled a curse that would’ve made a sailor blush. From him, that was a bad sign. “Copperheads moving around the sides. We’re not going to have much cover here soon.”
“Can we get in the station wagon and drive away?” Momma asked.
“Not after Charlotte’s ex smashed into it.” He glared at me.
“Hey, that’s not my fault!”
“It kind of is,” Hawk grinned.
�
�You’re not helping.”
Dad cursed again. “We need to get to safety. While there’s a lull in the shooting.”
The shooting had dimmed a little bit, but it was only because the Copperheads were making for the woods and taking cover behind the nearby buildings. Once they had new positions it would get ugly again.
The middle of the road was mostly deserted, except for dead bodies and abandoned motorcycles. Hawk’s bike still stood where he’d left it, smack in the middle.
“Think we should make a run for it?” Hawk asked my dad.
“Uh huh. Split off, too, so we’re tougher to hit.” Dad glanced at him. “Can you move?”
“I told you I’m fine. Hurts like hell, but ain’t gonna stop me.” He gave a weak grin. “I can get her out of here in a flash. My bike’s right there. That’s better than running behind the line of cop cars the Copperheads are about to shoot at.”
My dad looked him up and down as if seeing him for the first time. As if Hawk were picking me up for a date and dad was giving him a once-over on the front porch before deciding whether to let me go out with him. After a long moment, dad nodded. Hawk must have met his approval.
“Ready, Peaches?”
“Does it matter?”
“Nope,” he said.
Hawk took my hand and then we sprinted out from behind the station wagon. It was eerily silent except for the few Copperheads shouting at one another, trying to stay coordinated against the police presence. My feet pounded on the pavement as we ran, which was more of a light jog thanks to Hawk’s wound, no matter how fine he insisted he was.
We were so vulnerable out in the open. I knew it made temporary sense to get away from everything, but I couldn’t help but feel like we would suddenly be struck with bullets at any moment. All anyone had to do was look! Fortunately, most of the Copperheads seemed to be running for cover at the moment, or too focused on the police to notice us.