Shattered Chances: A Breaking Black Companion Novel (18 page)

Jimmy approached me with a callous look on his face. He would stop at nothing to find out where Averi was and he was quite confident that Colt and Randy would not be released from jail until the morning. He had Officer Riley watching them like a hawk.

My chin slumped against my chest. Gunnar lifted it up, and my eyes squinted against the light. In one vicious swipe, Gunnar tore the tape from my mouth.

“Are you prepared to tell me where Randy is living?”

My right eye lid opened just slightly and I could see Jimmy standing before me. He had about ten Devils behind him. Standing at Jimmy’s right hand, Trent stood with a gun pointed at my head. 

“I asked you a question, girl… Where is Randy Ford living?”

A smirk creased my blood-stained face. 

“I’m not telling you shit!”

The back of Trent’s hand whipped me across my cheek. My skin stung with pain, but I did not give him the pleasure of seeing me grimace. I spit blood onto the floor and glared up at him defiantly. 

“This girl has a death wish,” Gunnar said in a bored tone. 

“Don’t kid yourself… She’s dead already,” Trent said.

“Then may the good Lord take me, because you’re not getting nothin’ out of me,” I said matter-of-factly. 

Jimmy came closer to me, but I kicked my legs sending the chair skidding against the hard cement floor. 

“I don’t recommend crossing me,” Jimmy said with a look of warning. 

“Sorry. I don’t take recommendations from assholes. Can I go now?”

Trent smacked me again. 

“You’re not going anywhere.”

“You can hit me all you want. I’m not telling you
anything
.”

“So be it.” 

Turning on his heel, Jimmy walked out. The last thing I remember before the lights went out was Gunnar Rhoades placing the blade of his knife to my neck. 

***

The light bulb hanging from the basement ceiling went out and I sat silent in the dark of the basement with twelve Devils breathing down my back. Gunnar’s blade pressed into the flesh of my neck and a speck of crimson blood trailed down my skin. 

“You’ll tell me what I need to know… Even if I have to beat it out of you.”

“I will not give him up. Especially not to you.”

“He doesn’t love you.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Which is why he’s left you to the dogs…”

“I don’t care. I still won’t give up his location,” I said. 

My hands were bound by rope behind my back. My fingers were working feverishly to loosen the knots. My fingernails that had blood caked under the surface scratched at the dull weaving of the rope, slowly tearing through the twine. The blade of Gunnar’s knife penetrated the skin of my neck. I watched him unmoving, my breath hitched not wanting the blade to cut any deeper. I could just make out the outline of Gunnar and Trent’s silhouettes.

“Now you can tell us where your boyfriend is…” Gunnar said in his deep Irish brogue. 

I laughed. 

“Something funny?”

Only the fact that you think your tough guy attitude is going to get me to give up Randy.”

“Hey Trent. Come deal with this one…”

Here it was. The moment I had been waiting for. The final strand of rope had severed as the loose rope unraveled from my wrists. I grabbed the two loose ends and pulled the rope tight. I watched as Trent approached me with a smug look on his face. He leaned down to me preparing to backhand me once more, but before he could, he felt the hard scratchy surface of the hard rope pulling tight around his neck. I braced myself. I dug a foot into Trent’s stomach while I pulled with all my might. Letting go, I ran dodging the outstretched hands of at least six Devils. I stormed up the rickety basement steps and swung the door open where I came face to face with Jimmy. Not wasting a second, I swiped at Jimmy’s face, leaving scratch marks running down his cheeks. I ran like hell, a tornado in their wake, turning over chairs and sending glasses crashing to the floor.  The debris slowed the Devils down but it wouldn’t stop them entirely. I swiped a bronze zippo off one of the tables and set a day old newspaper ablaze. Looking at the Devils I threw it at the bar where several glasses of whiskey sat. 

Bang!

Shards of glass and wood flew everywhere as the hot burn of the fire spread throughout the room. I sought out Trent’s eyes amidst the mayhem. Searching the crowd, I found his dead eyes. He held my glare as he took his first step through the fire. Backing away from Trent, who in that moment looked like the devil himself, I tried to run but I was cut off by someone standing in the doorway. Blocking my exit was none other than Dave Grisham – my step-father. Grabbing me by my hair, Dave pulled tight. 

He whispered in my ear, “You and I have a real fucking problem!”

Flipping me around to face him, Dave laughed as Trent and Gunnar rebound my wrists and put an old bandana in my mouth to keep me quiet. 

“And what the hell do you propose we do with her?!” Gunnar yelled. 

“Bring her with us…” Jimmy replied. 

“What?!” 

“For collateral,” Jimmy said as a flicker of insanity flashed across his face. 

“Collateral… Dude, Randy’s in jail.”

“Do you really expect him to stay there all night? Especially with his uncle still hanging around?”

“Are you expecting him and Colt to be a problem?”

“I’m counting on it.”

61.

Randy

“Ford… McClain… You’re free to go. Bail is posted,” Officer Whitman said to me and Colt from the opposite side of the bars. He fumbled with his keys, trying to the find the one that opened the holding cell. 

“You’re kidding…” Colt said in a state of shock. He looked up at Officer Whitman from his bench. I was so happy I could have kissed him. 

“Who bailed us out?” I asked. 

“Your uncle. He couldn’t stick around, though.”

The officer’s keys clanked against the lock of the holding cell and as the door groaned open, the other prisoners jeered at Colt and me. With a smug smile on my face, I waved and said, “About fuckin’ time! Bye, losers!”

“C’mon, Ford!” Officer Whitman yelled, getting annoyed. 

Colt went to the counter to collect his effects while I was ushered from the holding cell, hell bent upon pissing off the other inmates.

Hitting me in the gut, Colt said, “Let’s go.”  

We had to retrieve Colt’s truck from the restaurant parking lot. We walked from the police station down Monument Avenue. We passed Colt’s garage, Dr. Tasco’s office and Summer’s. If it wasn’t for the sense of dread that swirled in the air, it would seem like an ordinary Sunday night. As we passed by the Seventy Devils Headquarters, our fears were confirmed. Dozens of bikers on back of their Harleys revved their motors as they listened to Jimmy Hearns give the battle cry. Standing on the hood of Gunnar’s truck, Jimmy screamed at the top of his lungs. 

“They took our founder from us! What do you plan to do about it?!”

Forty voices rang out into the night in blood curdling screams, “Avenge him!”

“Her testimony put him away for two decades!

What do you plan to do about that?!”

“Silence her!”

Colt had to hold me back. I was prepared to lunge towards the crowd. 

Jimmy continued, “Colt McClain and Randy Ford seek to spill the blood of every last standing Devil… What do you say to that?!”

“Kill them first!”

“Go! Claim what redemption is ours!”

Colt stared at his half-brother with troubled eyes. He really was going to have to kill the bastard, and tonight would be the night to do it. 

***

Colt slid his key into the ignition, and before I was even entirely in the door, he had kicked on the accelerator, barreling ass out of the parking lot and towards Route 1, zipping out of Oakeley and hell bound for Hall Ranch. 

62.

Cheyenne

My breath hitched as I tried to see what was happening from the back seat of Gunnar’s truck. I was unable to break free of my binds this time, and I was freaking out with the sounds of gunshots and screams coming from the ranch. There was blood shed everywhere. A war had broken out and dead bodies were strewn about the lawn.

Where the hell was Randy?

That is when I heard it. Rancid screaming out the speakers of Colt’s truck. He was barreling ninety miles an hour up the drive, kicking dirt up and running over the dead bodies of two slain Devils. I was horrified by the look of pure hatred in Randy’s eyes, but it was nothing compared to the look on Colt’s face. 

Randy had his gun out and he was shooting at anything in black. As Colt brought the truck to a skidding stop, Randy jumped out, running straight for his target. Trent glared at Randy who was charging at him like an on-coming train. He hurried to load his gun, but Randy was coming at him, fast and hard, and with his fists flying, Randy laid him out flat on his back. 

“Where is she?! Where is she, mother fucker?!” Randy demanded to know slamming Trent against the ground. “C’mon get up!” He put a gun to Trent’s head. “Walk. Take me to her. NOW.” Randy was not messing around. If Trent dared play any games with him, he would not hesitate. He would kill Trent. 

“What makes you think I have her…?”

“You’re always fucking interfering in some way. Now where is she?!”

“Hmm… I’m not sure…” Trent said clearly bullshitting. 

Randy took the safety of his gun off and jammed his weapon under Trent’s chin, ready to shoot. 

“Try again!”

Trent gave Randy a sadistic smile. The answer would not come easily from him, but then a cry sounded out into the night. 

I wriggled into the front seat, trying to get as close as I could to the cigarette lighter on the front dashboard. Backing myself up to the dash, I reached with my fingers, pulling the lighter from its holder. I missed with my first few attempts, but then I finally grabbed hold of it. Stretching my hands, I struggled to burn the ropes around my wrists, but as the heat from the lighter singed the rope, I was able to free my hands. As soon as my hands were free, I ripped the bandana from her mouth and screamed for Randy.

“RANDY!!!!!!!”

63.

Randy

“Cheyenne?!” I yelled looking over towards Gunnar’s truck that was badly littered with bullet holes. I could see Cheyenne banging on the windshield. 

“You motherfucker!” I said snarling at Trent. 

I wanted to shoot him dead right there, but instead I grabbed hold of his jacket and pushed my gun to his back and pushed him closer to the truck where Cheyenne was locked inside. She struggled to open the truck door, but after a moment she did and hurled herself out of the truck and into my arms. I almost didn’t recognize her, but I didn’t care. With my gun still pointed at Trent, I kissed Cheyenne as I had never kissed her before, with an urgency and a desperate need. I pulled away from Cheyenne and brought my hand to her chin. I inspected her face and the damage that Trent had done. I watched Cheyenne’s hands shake. My eyes scanned the slash on her neck where Gunnar’s knife had been. The bruises. The blood caked on her lips. The raw skin where the ropes had been. The lost, far away look in her eyes. The rage within me came to a boiling point. 

“He did this to you?!” I asked as calmly as I could. 

With a nod, Cheyenne told me all I needed to know. I spun on my heel away from Cheyenne and faced Trent with a fire in my eyes. 

“You’ve crossed me for the last time, mother fucker!” 

I did what I had wanted to do for so long. 

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Squeezing the trigger thrice, I sent three bullets flying towards Trent. Swirling through the cool November air, sinking through his skin like butter.The bullets’ path went directly into the side of Trent’s head, killing him instantly. Trent fell to the ground, as the icy cool tone to his gaze faded.  Cheyenne stared at me, hardly able to believe what she just saw. It was over. Trent was gone. My eyes were hooded, and I held her gaze, unable to take my eyes off her. With a gentle touch, Cheyenne reached for my hand and fell into my arms, both of us shell shocked and bewildered. Her hands shook as I held her. She was cracking under the pressure – the drugs in her system were just too damn strong. I watched as her eyes slowly rolled into the back of her head. Not wasting a moment, I grabbed Cheyenne by her waist and led her to Colt’s truck.