"Leave me the f**k alone!" I shouted as I spun around and tried twisting my arm free from the biker with the gross face tattoos. I lashed out like a caged animal and tried kicking him in the balls, but he dodged my foot.

Like a flash of lightning, Jax's arm shot out and clocked the guy, sending him staggering back. I tried to stop myself from trembling in fright, but I knew these guys were going to be seriously pissed.

"Stay there, Riley," Jax said, stepping forward and forming a human barrier between the bikers and me.

"Looks like we gotta teach you some manners now," Face Tattoos said. He cracked his knuckles and spit blood. "We're gonna f**king break you in half now. And if you're lucky, we'll even let you watch what we do to her."

They all swarmed closer in on us as an anxious shaking rippled through my body. Jax reached beyond me and held out his hand. He turned his head back quickly and whispered, "Keep trying to start the bike, I'll draw them away."

I reached in his hand and found the motorcycle keys.

Spiky Helmet swirled around his butterfly knife. Jax got into a fighting stance and drew them out further into front yard, away from the street and the bike. The glint of the streetlight reflected off the blade’s sharp edges and a panicked breath caught in my throat.

Holding up the knife, Spiky Helmet charged at him. Jax stood tall until the last possible second before sidestepping the charging biker. But he left his foot out and tripped the thug. It sent the biker’s helmet flying off as he fell forward. His chin smacked off the sidewalk and scraped against the concrete, leaving behind a trail of blood.

I yelped at the cracking sound of jaw hitting concrete. No. I had to keep cool and get this bike started so we could get out of here. I slammed the keys into the ignition and gave the throttle and gave the pedal a vicious kick. A weak sputtering sound came from the engine, even worse than before.

Shit!

Turning towards the fight, I saw Jax leap forward and tackle one of the bikers. He held down the thug with one hand and pummeled his face as the other bikers rushed towards him.

Even though I knew I had to keep trying with the bike, I wasn't going to let Jax take on the thugs alone. Looking around for something I could use to my advantage, I noticed that next to the street was a gravel driveway filled with sharp heavy rocks. I hustled over, squatted down, and held up the bottom of my blouse, filling it with as many rocks as I could fit into it and then quickly ran back to the bike and tried the starter pedal again. This time, the engine rumbled more loudly, but still didn't start

Over on the front yard, the burly bald biker ripped Jax off his buddy, and him and Jax wrestled around in the dirt of the front yard as the other bikers kicked them.

I picked out a jagged rock from my blouse, took aim at the bikers, and launched it. Miss. I did it again. Miss. Everyone was moving around so fast that it made it difficult to hit them.

I whipped another rock and finally managed to hit the guy with the long braided goatee in the eye. He clutched his face as blood splurted out.

I stepped closer and hurled a handful of rocks at the bikers. They rained down like meteors, nailing a few guys in the head.

Bandana turned and saw me. "Now you think you’re tough shit?" He threw his bottle of booze at me.

I ducked and the rocks fell out of my blouse as the incoming bottle went twirling over my head, landing in the front yard a few feet away.

Howling and grunting, Jax went absolutely apeshit on Bandana. Thankfully he was beating them so badly, they all forgot about me.

Frantic, I tried the bike again, panic rising in my chest. Nothing. Dammit! When were we going to catch a break?

Jax was still holding his own against the bikers, but they just kept getting right back up and going at him. They must’ve been so drugged up that they weren’t feeling any of the pain Jax was dishing out.

I knew Jax was a fighter, but I didn’t know how much longer he could keep fending them off. He wasn’t superhuman. Yet there he was, with blood splattered all over his white tank top like a butcher after a hard day’s work.

The bike didn't seem like it wanted to cooperate and I didn't know if Jax could hold out forever. Even though I didn't have my purse or pepper spray with me, I wasn't going to sit on the sidelines and watch these animals beat the man I loved to death.

I distantly registered the word love in my mind before adrenaline surged into me as I rushed towards the bikers.

A loud rumbling sound suddenly filled the humid air and I stopped in my tracks. I turned and saw an old beat-up Cadillac with a f**ked up muffler spewing smoke out the back. It stopped in the street by the row of bikes with its headlights illuminating the fight.

A man stepped out of the car and whistled so sharply I thought it’d burst my eardrums.

The bikers all suddenly stopped and dropped their fighting stances. Even Jax froze, still gripping onto one of the bikers' jacket.

Jax’s fiery eyes went wide as the color drained from his face.

It looked like he was staring at a ghost.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

ONE SMALL LIE

Jax

Twenty-two years ago.

Jax’s breaths were coming fast. His skin was too hot. He was running with all his might, desperately hoping he wouldn’t get caught. But he was getting tired and his legs were beginning to feel a tingliness and burning in them. His chest felt sharp and achey. And worse of all, he knew the person chasing him was faster.

He looked to his left and saw a wall of gray not far off; he looked to his right and saw the same. He had nowhere to go except forward, but forward was full of big colors he couldn’t run through. He had to make a difficult choice: climb the big colors or try to run around them.

It would slow him down if he climbed, but Jax was good at climbing. He’d climbed up the huge tree in his backyard many times whenever he was scared because it was safe up there. There were a lot of leaves he could hide behind, and it was high enough that nobody could reach him.

If he continued running, he knew it would eventually be over for him.

I can’t get caught. I can’t let him catch me.

He dashed up the brown steps and lost one of his shoes. The sticky straps on both of them had broken off long ago. He felt lucky that his shoes had stayed on his feet for this long because they usually fell off quickly whenever he ran.

He didn’t look back or try to get it. He had to keep moving. He climbed another set of steps and raced toward the yellow and orange striped entrance he’d been looking for.

When he got there, he sank down to his butt, his nerves on fire. The noise in his ears sounded like roaring. His eyes widened as he looked down.

This is it. I’m going to make it. I’m going to get away. If I just push myself forward . . .

He pushed himself forward, but a strong grip on his shoulders stopped him.

"GOTCHA!"

Jax turned his head to look behind him and saw green eyes and a giant grin. He recognized the tiny spots across the boy’s nose and cheeks.

"Nooo!" Jax screamed, kicking his legs and flapping his hands in disappointment that his friend, Michael tagged him.

Michael laughed. "Gotcha. Cops win!" Two fingers pressed against the back of Jax’s head. "You’re under arrest!" he heard Michael cry followed by a spitty explosion sound as the two fingers fired.

Jax laughed and slid down the bright red to the bottom, all the while patting his mouth with his hand as he tried making the sound that Indians make.