Page 130 of Kings Fear No One
The longer I spend on the road steeped in vengeful thoughts, the more I’m certain what I want to do. A taste for violence has sprung up inside me, uncoiling like a venomous snake. I’m not sure I can spend another night without knowing what it feels like to rip him to shreds…
I’m halfway between Jefferson and Pulsboro when two SUVs speed up from behind. They close in on either side, flanking me left and right. The windows are tinted, concealing their identities from view, but I don’t need to see any faces to know what’s going on.
Flashbacks of the last time this happened to me filter in and out.
I’d been on the highway riding after the Road Rebels. Our motorcycle clubs had been engaging in a vicious war. My father had sent me as the lead on a mission to retaliate, and I was prepared to stop at nothing to make him proud.
It only took seconds to be run off the road. As my bike spiraled out of my control, I ran right off a nearby cliff. My world blacked out after that.
When I woke up, I was in chains. A captive of Abraham and the Saints.
As these SUVs close in now, I clench the handles of my bike and bolt forward. I shoot out ahead of them in a burst of speed. They barrel after me, refusing to give up anytime soon.
That’s alright.
We can do things the hard way.
I make them work for it. My expertise comes in handy. I’m skillful, keeping ahead of them, dodging their attempts to box me in. They charge toward me, about to rear end the back of my bike. I swerve left to keep them guessing, then slide across the road to force their hand.
SUVs don’t move as deftly as bikes do. They zig and zag, tires squealing, rubber burning.
The one on the right loses control of the wheel and jerks into a wild spin. They don’t regain it in time to avoid veering off road, where they crash into wooden fencing.
I toss a look over my shoulder to spot the rubble behind me.
And the other SUV that’s still riding my ass.
I can handle one. If I can shake off the first vehicle, I can damn sure make quick work of the second.
Turning back around to reset my gaze on the road, my heart punches against my chest. I slam down on the brakes, but it’s already too late.
A third SUV has crashed onto the scene and blocked off the road ahead.
The inevitable finally catches up to me.
Braking means the SUV closes in enough to force my hand. Their front bumper plows into the back of my bike, and it’s over.
My body’s ripped from the safety of my Super Glide, sailing through the air, landing in a bone-crushing tumble on the road.
31
TEYSHA
I’m seated on the closed lid of the toilet with my face in my hands. I’ve come off another spell of nausea that had me throwing up acid because there was nothing else in my stomach. How could there be when I can’t keep anything down?
Any time I’ve tried to eat, my belly roils. The smells alone make me nauseous. The texture of certain foods has the same effect.
A shaky breath puffs out of me as I sit up and wipe my eyes with the back of my hands.
Where do I even go from here? What do I even do now?
None of this was planned.
Yet here I am again, forced into a situation that feels like cruel irony.
Knuckles rap against the closed door. Sydney’s voice follows. “Tey, you good? You’ve been in there a while.”
“Oh… err… yes… I’m… just a second!” I scramble to my feet, flushing the toilet and rushing to the sink. I quickly pump soap into my hands and rinse them off. My gaze scans the length of the bathroom counter making sure I haven’t left any evidence behind.
