Page 1 of Jake's Angel

PROLOGUE

Jake

I’m holdingonto the door handle with one hand and the buckle of my seat belt with the other, praying my grip will keep the two pieces locked as Mom white knuckles the steering wheel. The way she’s driving is scaring the shit out of me.

Mom never drives crazy with me and Jayde in the car.

Old Miller Mine Road is known for its curves and bends, and she’s taking every one of them at record speed.

My stomach is still tied in knots with the lack of information and the deafening silence thick in the cab of the truck.

Pop told us stories about the accidents happening on this road. How common they are.He says it’s the people’s own stupid fault for trying to take turns too quickly and allowing themselves to get too close to the edge.

My thoughts are scrambled.My stomach is turning as I try not to let my mind play all the possible scenarios we could find waiting for us. As we round the last corner, the accident is within view, and it all becomes clear. Someone’s badly hurt.

We pull to the crash, everything is moving in slow motion, as I’m taking in the scene in a panoramic view. It’s like in the movies, where the camera slows down time. The subtle movement of the trees from the summer breeze. The loud, distant cracking noise of old wooden branches off in the short distance. The air conditioning is barely moving Mom’s loose strands of hair. The car. The motorcycle. The pickup truck. One single picture at a time as I study every detail of what must’ve happened here.

There are dark skid marks swerving in a crazy pattern along the asphalt. Debris scattered along the stretch of road.Steam coming from the ground where the vehicles slid, before coming to their final resting places.

There’s movement. Someone wearing a Kings cut is squatting close to the ground, slowly shifting around. From this distance, I can’t tell who it is.

My eyes follow the path of the wreckage. Everything inside me turns to panic.

Caleb, the club President, has his old blue truck parked next to the front end of a wrecked black car. The small car is facing the wrong direction with the back half hanging, caught between the guardrail and the mountain wall.

Mom slams on the brakes, jerking us both forward hard enough to lock my seat belt against me. Her right arm slams across my chest. Jayde drops her toy onto the floorboard. Her loud screech as she yells at Mom in protest, the only sign she was affected by the sudden jolt. Mom apologizes as she explains she’s trying to avoid the streaks of liquid and broken metal scraps scattered across the road.

“Shit! I’m sorry. You two, okay?” Mom asks, her chest heaving with each breath she takes. I nod. Jayde scowls. Mom reaches for her toy, placing it back in Jayde’s lap. “There you go, sweetheart. Mommy’s sorry for scaring you.”

Judging by the dark marks and swerving pattern, it looks like the driver spun, lost control, and smacked against the mountain several times before coming to a complete stop.Both sides of the car are smashed to shit. Whatever happened, it finally ended with the back end of the car leaning against the railing and the front driver’s side pinned against the mountain wall. It looks as if the railing is the one thing keeping the small car from falling.

The front of the car looks like an accordion. I can see the silhouette of the driver through the spider web made of glass in the windshield. The front wheel axle is broken in half, both tires flat.

The front end has fluid dripping, pooling underneath while steam rises from the hood. The passenger’s side airbag is hanging, deflated, where the passenger door once was.

Pop and Gabe’s bikes are parked farther back, near the railing. Another bike is on the ground.

I still haven’t seen Pop yet. My heart is pounding at a rapid speed.

His bike is still standing, so it isn’t him who crashed. But I can’t be sure. He could’ve been riding one of the custom builds before the customer takes it home.

Shit.He has to be here somewhere. But where?

Mom parks us across the road on the opposite side in the turn-out under a tree. As soon as she has the truck stopped and catches sight of Caleb, she flings her door open and starts running, yelling at me over her shoulder, to stay put and watch my sister. She leaves the keys in the ignition turned on, with the hazard lights flashing. I’m able to open the windows at least, flooding the car with the scent of burned rubber, smoke, and a hint of honeysuckle.

Wanting to know what’s happening, and hoping to hear people talking, I open the window. It’s hot as hell out and I’m sweating like crazy already, but not because of the heat.

The broken mirror of the bike lays in pieces off to the side of Caleb’s truck. Orange paint streaks the blacktop. Busted red and yellow plastic shards look like confetti sprinkled everywhere.

The bile continues to rise in my throat, my heart feeling like it could burst through my ribs as I take everything in

As I look closer, I know the bike. What’s left of it, anyway.

I’d know his orange flame job anywhere. It was one of the first custom jobs done at Gabe’s garage.

The bike isn’t a complete loss. The tank and the front of the frame are still intact. I’m sure it slid across the ground before landing in its final resting place. Its owner, on the ground, not far from it.

Thomas. The traitorous asshole.

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