Page 111 of The Fractured

The only time I ever rode a bike was when Seb needed his bike serviced.

“I know, which is why you’ll meet him at that address… This job needs your expertise and a decoy. Just in case.”

I hate just in cases…

Antonio offered me a tight-lipped smile as he turned for the house, relying a little more on his cane than usual. “Get it done.”

Vince didn’t hang around long either, as he followed the boss inside.

This job would give me a temporary outlet for the anger I felt. Based on what Antonio said, the guy I was meeting was a problem if it was a two-man job.

“Bring on the problem,” I muttered, pulling the helmet on and climbing onto the bike.

It was a kickstart and required several of them before the engine finally turned over with a cough of smoke from the exhaust pipe.

A kickstart with issues. Great.

I charged through the screen door at the back of the East Flatbush home and vaulted over the rusted handrail on the stoop. Seb followed close behind, clinging to a duffle bag of cash as he went.

Hearts pounding, we sprinted through the overgrown backyard, dodging a swing set that hadn’t been used in a while as we neared the 7-foot-tall back gate.

The last time I scaled anything this tall, I was a nimble 5’8” fifteen-year-old, weighed one hundred and fifty-four pounds, and used a large marble garden statue as leverage to get over a wall. I was a fraction lighter than what I was now.

Seb seemed to be having similar thoughts.

“Ah, shit!” he groaned.

The gap between the gate and us was closing fast, and there wasn’t anything to use as a step up. We didn’t have time to look for another escape.

I sucked in a breath and made the jump at the same time as Seb, taking two heavy horizontal steps up before I gripped the top of the gate and pulled myself over in a half flip, half fall to the alleyway on the other side. The entire maneuver pulled and twisted at the cuts and bruises all over my body, making me heave a breath as I landed.

We had a second to catch our breath before the Rottweiler that chased us from the house scaled the same gate.

“You’ve got to be fuckin’ kiddin’ me!” I said, breathless.

My boots pounded against the uneven, trash-strewn street as the dog gave chase. It gained on us fast, growling and snapping at our heels until the growling morphed into the rumbling of an engine.

I glanced over my shoulder for a second to spot the moment a pickup truck smashed through the gate. The driver was the guy who owed Antonio money. Except he decided he wouldn’t hand that money over when Seb and I came knocking.

Admittedly, I probably should have handled the situation better, but I was tired of dealing with entitled assholes and punched him in the face, much to Seb’s surprise.

Instead of retaliating with his fists or a weapon, the guy opened the interior door to his garage and introduced us to Rosie the Rottweiler. It prompted Seb to grab the bag as we got the fuck out as fast as possible.

My legs and lungs were burning, but I urged my body to keep moving as the truck's headlights illuminated the alleyway, casting our shadows out in front of us.

Rosie had finally given up the chase, but her owner hadn’t. He wanted the cash and would stop at nothing to get it back.

“Give me the bag, Seb!” I called as we ran onto the next street, taking the sidewalk back to the front of the house, where the bikes were parked.

Seb didn’t question it and threw the bag at me just as the truck swerved out onto the street. The driver attempted to mount the curb but parked cars and trash cans prevented him from getting closer.

Our bikes were in sight.

I pushed harder, breathing in and out of my nose and mouth. Sure, I ran most mornings but even that didn’t prepare me for this fucking shit.

“What’s the plan?!” Seb shouted, reaching his bike.

I looped the bag strap across my chest right before I leapfrogged over the tail light of the motorbike, trying not to crush my balls in the process when I landed on the seat. “Split!”