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“I told you I’m fine. Hurts like hell, but it 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 Jayce 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 with approval.
“Ready, Peaches?”
“Does it matter?”
“Nope,” he said.
Jayce 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. My feet pounded on the pavement as we ran, which was more of a light jog thanks to Jayce’s wound, no matter howfinehe insisted he was. He cradled his wounded arm against his belly as we ran.
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. Fortunately, most of the Copperheads seemed to be running for cover at that moment, or too focused on the police to notice us.
Jayce threw a leg over his bike, and I hopped on behind him. The bike rumbled to life between my legs, and Jayce glanced over his shoulder to make sure I was ready.
I wrapped my arms around him and said, “Go!”
He whirled the bike around, and then we shot away to the south so fast that I almost fell off the back. Jayce deftly maneuvered the bike around the damaged station wagon, then between the row of police cars. Most of the police were running over to the side to engage with a cluster of Copperheads who were fleeing into the woods behind Flop’s bar. The motorcycle engine roared louder as Jayce sped away, and within seconds all the police, Copperheads, and gunfire was fading behind us.
Jayce rode to the edge of town, then pulled over onto a dirt road hidden in the trees. “Hop off,” he said.
I obeyed, then realized he wasn’t going to do the same. “Wait a minute. Where are you going?”
“To get your mom.”
I started to laugh, but then he was zooming back toward the distant firefight in a flash. I barely had any time to start worrying before he returned with my Momma clutching onto the back.
“Oh my!” she said when he pulled to a stop. “Thank you very much!”
“Any time.”
Momma gave me an excited, wide-eyed look. She’d never been on a motorcycle before.
“Now what?” I asked.
Jayce turned to Momma. “Want me to go rescue your husband?”
She snorted. “I’d love for you to, but he’s too much of a fool to come with you. Still thinks he can wave his gun with the best of them. Don’t bother.”
“Then I guess we stay here…” Jayce began to say, then trailed off.
Another bike came shooting down the road away from the fight. It was a Harley, with the rider leaned all the way back. As he drew closer, the dreadlocks trailing behind his head like tentacles were unmistakable.
Sid.
From behind, I saw Jayce snarl. He pulled out his pistol and took aim just as Sid was passing us. The pistol barked once, twice, and a third time as Jayce’s healthy arm swiveled to follow the fleeing Copperhead. Then the man was gone, turning down the next road and disappearing behind the trees.
Jayce lowered the pistol. His hand shook with rage, or disappointment, or both.
My heart ached for Jayce in that moment. He’d finally had a clear chance at getting his revenge, and he’d missed. He would likely never get another opportunity like that again.
Then the grief on his handsome face twisted into determination. He threw his leg back over the bike.
“No!” I shouted, jumping on the back. “Don’t follow him!”
“I have to, Peaches. Get off.”
“He’ll kill you!” I insisted, squeezing my arms tight around him. He grunted from his wound, and I moved my right arm a little lower. “Don’t you have something worth living for?”
