Page 94 of Dizzy

I swallow a whimper. Dizzy wouldn’t agree to that. Never.

“I bet you’re thinkin’ he’s your man, and it ain’t gonna go down like that. How long you been spreadin’ your legs for him, girl?”

He waits for me to answer, but my mouth is bone dry, and my brain’s disconnected from my voice box. The gun is dangling between us. His finger is on the trigger.

“A few weeks? A month? I don’t see no ring. I don’t see no cut that saysProperty Of. I see a runaway who no one would miss if she disappeared.”

The words are a direct hit. I sway from the impact.

“Let me explain how an MC works. You hear Heavy call him ‘brother?’ That’s what we are. Brothers. And blood is thicker than water. It might take Heavy a little talkin’, but Dizzy’s gonna hand you over. We’re gonna take you back to the basement. And you ain’t comin’ out this time.”

I stifle a moan. Every nerve in my body shouts at me to run, but there’s nowhere to go. The gun has me pinned on the spot.

“Now, I know you got nothin’ to do with this. But Heavy don’t know that. Dizzy don’t know that. What’s on your phone is mighty fuckin’ incriminating.”

Incriminatingwhat? Do they think I did something to Chaos?

“But like I said. This is your lucky day. You’re gonna run. Start hitchin’ as soon as you hit the main road. I’ll give you as long as I can. Then I’m gonna fire this gun. I’m gonna say you grabbed for my piece, we grappled, it went off, and you ran that way.” He points into the woods across the street.

What? This is crazy. Dizzy will talk sense into Heavy. I didn’t do anything.

Jed’s studying my face, and he’s growing more impatient by the second. Finally, he shakes his head.

“You dumb bitch. Don’t you get it? Chaos was stealing from us. Steel Bones killed him. And you’re the only one who can put him at the clubhouse. You’re a material witness to murder, and if the Feds get ahold of you, your testimony could prove racketeering. You could put the entire club behind bars for life. Put a needle in Heavy’s arm.”

I’m shaking my head. I’d never rat.

Jed keeps going. “And that guy Rab who’s texting you? He knows somethin’ happened to Chaos, and he knows you were the last to see him alive.”

Jed glances toward the garage. They’re still in there.

“Dizzy might love your pussy, but you really think he’d risk all his brothers’ lives for you? You think he’d risk jail for you? Risk his kids growin’ up fatherless? For some gash he’s been bangin’ a month or two?”

Oh, God. I’m gonna puke. I fight down a wave of nausea. I don’t have time to panic. I can lose it later. They could come out at any minute.

Dizzy. My heart cracks.

It was too good to be true. Of course, it was.

I spin on the ball of my foot and sprint down the drive, pumping my arms. The cold November air burns my lungs. As I turn onto the main road, I skid on loose gravel, almost fall to me knees, but my forward momentum keeps me barreling ahead.

I don’t want to die.

I’m not gonna die.

I escaped that shed, and I’m gettin' out of this alive, too.

I run, and when I can’t anymore, I jog. After a mile or so, a gunshot rings out behind me, a sharp crack muffled by the low gray clouds. I push harder.

I lift my knees, and I keep going. Faster. Faster. I didn’t survive two days without water in a heat wave to get run down on the side of a rural highway in nowhere Pennsylvania.

Sweat rolls down my face, stinging my eyes. A motorcycle engine growls behind me, closing in, and I reach in my pocket for the knife, knowing it’s useless against a gun, but I’m not going down easy.

A bike pulls off onto the shoulder ahead of me. There’s a man I’ve never seen before. He’s wearing a denim cut with the red-and-white Rebel Raiders’ insignia. He’s got a paunch, a gray, braided ponytail and beard, and a red Willie Nelson bandana headband.

He grins. “Hey, sweet stuff. Jed called me. You need a ride?”

He shuffles forward on his hog. It’s gonna be a tight squeeze.

---