Page 68 of Jazz
Chase paused again, sighing. I could feel the tension flowing off him, could feel how hard that was to say.
“My dad caught me one day, gave me the hiding of my life. And kicked me out. I had nowhere to go. No money for a hit. I’d wandered the streets all night. And that’s when I saw her.”
I tensed now. Agitation filled my chest.
“She was talking to a guy. But it wasn’t seductive or friendly. He had his hand around her throat, and she was backed against the wall. She was clawing at it, trying to break free. There was just something about her, the dark hair, the tits that hung out of her top. I knew what she was. But she just hit differently. I ran in to help, to prise his hands off her. It worked, but then he swung at me, hands full of rings. Knuckle dusters, just ones the police wouldn’t pull you up on. I’d ducked out the way, sending him one back and breaking his nose. Then he pulled a knife.
“I should have run then. But without my racing, without the drugs, without my family, I just didn’t care anymore. I hadnothing to lose. We fought. He sliced my arm, but it was just a surface wound. And then he lost his footing, falling. …and I was on him before he even hit the ground. I don’t know what came over me. All that shit I’d been holding in. The crash, the pain, the waste of everything I’d worked for. It just blew. I kicked. Again and again. I remember the sound more than anything. Bone on concrete. His head hitting the curb. And I couldn’t stop. Couldn’t even see straight. Just red. Pure red.
“When it was done, I stepped back, and he wasn’t moving. He wasn’t breathing. Blood in his mouth, eyes half open like he was still trying to work out what the fuck happened. I just stood there, shaking. Twenty-one years old and I’d just killed a man.”
He exhaled hard, a tremor in it. “Gina was the one who pulled me back. Said we had to move him, quick. She was calm. Too calm. Got me to drag him into the alley, helped me lift him into a skip out back. He was all over the news the next day. But the police didn’t do much. Another drug dealing pimp off Middlesbrough’s streets.
“Gina took me home. To here. Poured me a double of something expensive, then lined me a hit. Said I’d earned it.”
Chase pinched his nose. “That’s how it started between us. She was free after that. No one to answer to, no one to hit her. I was her muscle, her protection, and she paid me in gear. When she didn’t have a client, she’d keep me company. Guess we both used each other to forget.”
He gave a rough laugh, bitter and small. “We lived like that for a few years. She was a businesswoman. She put her profits into this place. It got better and better. And I got better at fucking DIY. She was always knocking down something. Making something better.”
“You think she made you better?” I asked, my voice breaking through the deep rumbles of his.
“I think she kept me alive. I was ready to die. To give up on anything. Mike came in one night, freshly patched, bragging about his new brothers, about how much he belonged to the club. He bought some girls. Gina had others working for her now. Good terms. Good money and I made sure they were protected. I’d learnt to fight now. And I didn’t care who I hurt doing that. Punters knew the deal by then. Mike was there choosing his girl when someone kicked off. He watched me beat the ever living shit out of him and toss him out the back door into the rotting alleyway behind. He told me I should meet the guys. Said I had the kind of temper they liked. Should’ve taken that as a warning.
“I left Gina a year later. And never came back. Until the other night. I didn’t know whether she would help us. Help me.”
That agitation had turned to something inside of me. But there were too many emotions to keep hold of. Jealousy, pain, empathy, sadness. They circled low in my stomach.
“What about your family?”
“I never saw my parents again. Not until I joined the Rats, and I was riding again. I went to see them. My dad looked at me, looked at the leather cut I was wearing, and shut the door in my face.”
I turned onto my side, pulling his face so he was looking at me. His eyes were deep with sadness, more green now than brown. It was the first time since I’d seen his face he’d looked so vulnerable, and I could see the sad little boy in his eyes, the young man who’d lost everything, and fuck did I feel guilty. I hated my brothers for the club life, for the overbearingprotection, for the control. But I’d always had them and my mam. Chase’d had no one.
I pressed my lips to his, tasting his mouth, kissing him gently. Chase shifted onto his side, pulling me into him, my boobs flattening against his chest.
“Well, fuck. This is cosy.”
That voice. I recognised that voice.
Chase shot upright.
“Don’t fucking move, fella.”
Chapter Thirty Five
Both of us stared down the barrel of the handgun that held us in its sights only six feet away. How’d he get in here? I hadn’t heard the door. Hadn’t heard a fight.
Chase reached in front of me, pushing me behind him, his back concealing my bare breasts from the blond man with the gun.
“Ain’t this cute?” His voice sounded deadly in the room, the Geordie undertone underneath a muddled accent.
“You were in my shop,” Chase said, his words deep and dangerous, and if this wasn’t as fucked up as it was, they would have melted me completely.
“Nice bikes you had. Shame.”
“Shame?”
“Aye. Place burned down the other night.” Chase’s fingers tightened round the covers. “Not my doing though. Your own brothers, from what I could see. So, don’t want to spoil the party here, but you’re gonna need to get up and get dressed. Both of you.”