Make You Mine by K.T. Quinn

49

Jayce

I wanted to hear Charlotte’s answer. I wanted so badly to hear her explain why she didn’t want me to throw my life away—to hear her say that she still cared about me, and maybe even loved me.

But fate decided otherwise.

The sound of the Copperheads preceded them like the freight train sound of a tornado before the funnel was spotted. The line of them appeared in the distance, winding around the road and drawing closer, sun reflecting off the chrome of their vehicles. It was a bigger group than Sid normally traveled with. At least three dozen Copperheads. Maybe fifty.

“You have to leave,” I repeated, turning to face everyone. “All of you: get out of here now!”

“Not happenin’!” Flop shouted from his bar. “I didn’t get shot down in Vietnam just to run from a fight!”

“Aww, hell,” Mindy said while drawing her gun. “I always wanted to die under a blue sky.”

They’re crazy, I thought as I watched them all stand around. They’re all crazy for staying with me.

“I’m not going anywhere until someone explains what’s going on,” Charlotte’s dad said. He sounded like a cop.

“Dad, please!” Charlotte begged. “You and Momma have to leave!”

But it was too late. The Copperheads were already rolling up. If anyone tried to flee now, Sid would chase them down for sport.

I held my gun at my side and turned sideways to conceal it from the approaching bikers. With luck, I could squeeze off one shot at Sid. Maybe even two. My shotgun would have been a better weapon, but they would notice if I drew it from the holster on my bike. The pistol would have to do.

The column of Copperheads slowed to a stop thirty feet from our group, pulling off to either side of the road. The men at the front pulled shotguns from their bikes and aimed it in my general direction.

“Drop it, Jayce,” Brick, my old friend, said. “Let’s have us a peaceful day, yeah?”

I tossed the weapon forward. The heavy metal scraped across the pavement before coming to a stop in front of Brick. The cold lump of the sheriff’s pistol still pressed against my back, tucked behind my belt. I faced the Copperheads directly.

They swung their shotguns toward Mindy. With a scowl on her face, she tossed her weapon forward too. I glanced at Flop’s bar. Neither assault rifle poked out of the window now. Guess they came to their senses after all.

The rest of the Copperheads pulled up in formation, parking along the road like the first few. Sid rode down the middle slowly, like Moses. He parked his bike far from the rest of us, which allowed him to dramatically stride forward. His boots thumped heavily on the pavement and a huge smile covered his face.

“Well, hello everyone!” he said, spreading his arms amicably. His crowbar poked over his left shoulder. “If I’d known we were having a town event, I would’ve brought a pie.”

“Sid!” the sheriff shouted. “They took my sidearm and cuffed me.”

The judge bobbed his head. “Thank God you’re here. I prayed for help to come, and my prayers were answered…”

Sid laughed mockingly. “I’m not here for you.”

“But Sid…”

The leader of the Copperheads shook his head, which made his long dreadlocks sway around his head. “Seems the good townfolk of Eastland have had enough of you two. That right, Mindy?” He didn’t wait for her to answer before nodding to himself. “About time we had a change. Get some fresh blood in here. I’ll see that it’s done.”

There was a squeal of tires and the sickening sound of metal twisting against metal. I whirled to see the Honda Accord backing up, slamming into the side of the station wagon. Charlotte’s ex shifted into drive and roared south out of town.

“Smartest thing Scott’s ever done,” Charlotte whispered.

“Not quite,” I replied.

Sid gestured with a hand. Two of his bikers rumbled past us, shooting down the road to chase after Scott. I almost felt bad for the guy. He may have been a selfish piece of shit who had hurt Charlotte, but he didn’t deserve whatever was going to happen to him next.

“Jayce,” Sid said, turning his attention to me. He was smiling again like we were old friends. “You decided to finally come clean. Doesn’t it feel good to get it off your chest? To admit the crimes you have committed against your family?”

The mention of family was another dig designed to provoke a reaction. I ignored him and pointed at the backpack next to my bike. “Your money’s right there.”

Sid eyed the bag, but kept his distance. “And how do I know there’s not a grenade in there waiting for me to open the zipper?”

I shrugged. “You don’t.”

“Toss it over,” Sid commanded. Then he held up one finger, like a teacher lecturing a student. “And if you put your hand anywhere near the shotgun on the side of your bike, my boys’ll make a mess of you here on the road that’ll take a whole bunch of community service hours to clean up.”

I moved slowly toward the bike while a dozen weapons aimed at me from the bikers. Keeping my distance from the shotgun, I leaned forward to grab the strap of the backpack and pull it closer. Then I swung it underhand toward Sid. It landed halfway between my bike and the army of Copperheads.

Sid gestured. “Tommy. Check the bag.”

The biker to his left gawked. “But Sid. You just said a grenade might be in there.”

“Which is why you’re checking and not me.” Sid said it like it was a joke, but the other Copperhead didn’t laugh.

“Some family, huh?” I said loudly.

Tommy—who was of the too-skinny tweaker variety of Copperhead—nervously approached the backpack. He holstered his pistol and then lifted the bag with both hands, testing the weight. He unzipped it with trembling hands, then reached inside.

Sid was watching him. So were the other bikers. This could be my best chance. Reach back, grab the sheriff’s pistol from my waistband, and shoot Sid in the chest. End the fucker’s reign here and now. I was almost certain I could get at least one shot off before the goons riddled me with bullets.

But my plan had one fatal problem: Unlike how I had planned it, I wasn’t alone. Behind me were Charlotte, her parents, and Mindy. A hail of gunfire aimed in this direction would kill everyone several times over. I was ready and willing to die today, but I couldn’t make that decision for the others. Not even the sheriff and judge.

So while Tommy checked the bag’s contents, I kept my hands motionless at my side.

“This is our money all right,” Tommy said. “Same rubber bands and everything. But it’s not all of it. Not even close.”

“It’s not about the money,” Sid said in the tone of a preacher who’d reached the climax of his sermon. “Don’t care how much of that we get back. It’s about making sure justice is done. Isn’t that right, Judge Benjamin?”

“Sid, please,” he begged. “Release us so that we may—”

“Justice,” Sid went on, “means ensuring nobody steals from me ever again. Now that Jayce has confessed in front of you, me, and God, such justice can be dispensed. It will be a lesson to all current and future Copperheads. No man steals from Sid and lives.”

His eyes bore into me, wide and dilated. He was as high as could be right now. More dangerous than usual. He was waiting to see if I would fight back. So were the other bikers with their guns held at the ready with fingers on triggers. There was no way I could get a shot off now.

Best case scenario? Sid hauled me away from the others and killed me in private. Sparing everyone else’s lives, and sparing Charlotte from having to watch me die.

Grief filled my chest. I’d fucked up again. Wasted my one shot. I wished I could have done all of this differently. Joining the Copperheads, stealing their money once I realized where it came from, allowing Theresa to be killed. I had so many regrets in life.

The one thing I didn’t regret was Charlotte. Out of my entire shitty fucking life, she was a beacon of good. Sunshine banishing the darkness, even only for a few weeks. I would go to my grave glad that we’d had time together, however short it was.

I love you, Peaches, I thought to myself, since I couldn’t say it out loud. I’ll always love you.

“It’s time to make you pay,” Sid announced.

I held my chin up high. “I’ll accept whatever justice you think is fitting, Sid. I deserve it.”

He laughed. Sid laughed often, but this laugh was different. Not the normal half-humorous, half-mocking kind he normally belted out. This laugh was more excited. Almost gleeful. Like he had a surprise he was giddy to reveal.

My heart sank when I realized why.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Sid said.

And then his eyes swung over to Charlotte.