Page 74 of Jazz

My brother had done what he could, but under the gleam of the garage lights I could still see the scars across the fairing, a reminder that I’d been run off the road and taken. My fingers curled around the throttle, that deep familiar snarl echoing in the little garage my father had built many years before. I waited for the electric door to rise all the way up and then I pulled the throttle back towards me and raced forwards, dropping my leg to counterbalance the turn into the alleyway.

I slowed the bike before I turned into the carpark, letting it drop to almost an idle, easing it in over the rutted concrete, making as little noise as possible. Mam had said they were in church, so there should be few people around, and I had a good idea where I’d find him.

The pub's side door was locked, inaccessible from the outside, but next to it, the kitchen windows were decaying, offering me hope of access. The old president, Ste, had barely spent a penny on the place, and Indie had updated where he could. But those kitchen windows hadn’t been high on the agenda. I pulled the flat-head screwdriver from the tool pouch, wrapping the leather back up and securing it to the bike. I jammed the screwdriver between the glass and rotted wooden panel, twisting the handle and pushing. The frame was so damp it hardly made a noise as the glass panel popped out far enough to get my fingers under it.

I eased my fingertips between the wood and the frame, moving slowly. Inside my chest, my heart hammered, tension building. If I dropped the glass and it smashed, someone would hear, and that would be game over. I exhaled slowly, sliding the glass away from the frame a millimetre at a time. And then it popped free, and for a moment I lost contact with it. It slid against my fingers, gathering speed. I gripped harder, holdingmy breath, waiting for an ear-piercing shatter as it hit the ground. There was a crack. Pain stung in my palm. The glass had broken in two as it dislodged from the frame. My hands gripped each piece firmly. But the jagged edge of the glass in my right hand had caught across my skin, tearing it open, claret bubbling to the surface. But I breathed, willing the marching beat of my heart to slow down.

Lying the glass carefully on the ground outside the window, I pushed my palm under my armpit, squeezing hard as the pain pumped red-hot from the laceration. Fuck. I hissed the word almost under my breath. I didn’t have time for this. I needed to get Chase out of there before this fucking meeting finished.

Padding through the kitchen on my tiptoes, I eased the door open and moved out into the corridor, keeping my back to the wall as I navigated the dark. The door to the cellar wasn’t locked, and I reached for the handle, just as the door was pulled inwards and a big arm grabbed mine.

“What are you doing, Jazz?” Reap whispered in the dark.

“You know what I’m doing. I’ve come for him.” I pointed into the darkness to where a shadow hung.

“Jazz…” Reap warned.

“You going to hit me, Reap? Because that’s the only way you’re going to stop me.”

“Jazz?” a deep voice in the distance called.

“You need to step aside, Reap.”

The big auburn man did as I asked, flicking on the lights as he stepped away. The cellar lit up. Bright white lights showeringthe man hanging in the middle in a sterile glow. I swallowed hard, choking down the words at the sight of him.

Blood dripped down his face, red trailing down his chest, over his groin, down his thighs. He looked like he had been crucified, folding forward onto his knees. His hands were suspended from a rope in the ceiling. His shoulders pulled behind him at an excruciating angle, like they may just be wrenched off at any moment. Bile rose in my throat, nausea digging into my stomach.

“Why, Jazz?” Reap asked quietly from behind me.

“Because he saved me from them. From his own club. And now I’m going to save him from ours.”

“And then what?”

“I dunno, Reap.”

“Jazz. I can’t let you…”

“Yes, you can. Would you leave someone you love here to be killed?”

Reap’s eyes darkened. Sadness fighting anger for dominance. And even though I’d known him all my life, I felt that stab of fear, that maybe I’d overstepped the mark.

“You hardly know him.”

“I know him enough. The rest I’ll work out later.”

“Jazz…” Reap’s voice softened. “Think about this.”

“I’ve done a lot of that recently.”

Reap said nothing, jerking his head in Chase’s direction. I nodded in acknowledgement.

“You have a knife?”

“I’m not helping you, Jazz. But I won’t stop you either.”

“Could you at least get him some clothes? He’s gonna stand out a bit on the back of a bike like that. Don’t need the police after us, too.”

“His jeans and hoodie are in that corner. The Viking didn’t want any evidence of him left behind.”