“Shiiiit…” I muttered under my breath. I remember getting beatings when I was her age. I always felt like I was too old for it but my beatings were never justified. My father beat me for any reason he could land on.
“I’m sorry, Grandma Rita…” she cried as she turned around and washed the dishes.
Dream went into the living room with Yusef and I could hear him comforting her. I stayed behind in the kitchen and watched Rita recover from whoopin’. Her chest puffed and receded as she regained her composure. Neither a lack of sight nor being older held her back from garnering the respect she deserved.
“Come out with me and smoke a joint, ” Rita said as she turned on her heel and led us outside to her sprawling back yard, complete with a beautiful garden filled with orchids, roses and peonies.
I stayed for another hour. Got high with Rita, which relaxed her deeply. Checked on the twins and Zainab and they were knocked out. Hugged Yusef twice on my way out. Kissed Rita on the forehead and promised I’d call her before bed. Then I walked out and got into the back of the SUV with Davis behind the wheel and Rider in the passenger seat.
“Home, Ms. Ali?” Davis asked.
“Home.”
We pulled away from Rita’s house and headed toward the highway. I leaned my head against the window and let myself feel the exhaustion that I’d been holding back all day. I thought about Mateo’s texts. My life was a series of fires and I was running out of buckets.
About fifteen minutes into the drive, Rider shifted in the passenger seat.
“Davis.”
“I see them.”
“What?” I sat up. “What’s going on?”
“Two motorcycles behind us for the last six miles. Same speed, same distance. They’ve turned every time we’ve turned.”
“Vipers?” But why would my brother’s crew be on me? Did they think we had done something to him?
“Maybe. Or somebody else.” Davis’s eyes were on the rearview. “I’m gonna take this next exit and see if they follow.”
He hit the off-ramp at the last second without signaling. I twisted in my seat and looked through the back window. Two black motorcycles, both with riders in dark helmets, smoothly took the same exit behind us.
“They followed,” I said.
“I see that.”
The exit dumped us onto a back road that wound through trees and farmland on the way back to a different stretch of highway. No streetlights. No other cars. Just dark woods on both sides and the headlights of two motorcycles closing the distance behind us.
“Get down,” Rider said. “Both of you. Now.”
Davis hit the gas. I dropped to the floor of the backseat and pulled my purse with me because Quest had given me a Glock 19 when we started this and I never went anywhere without it. I dug it out and chambered a round and held it tight against my chest.
The engines got louder. The motorcycles were beside us now, one on each side, and that’s when I saw them through the window before I went all the way down. Both riders in dark gear, both faces covered, but their hands on the handlebars were bare and their necks above their jackets were visible. No tattoos. No ink. Nothing.
These weren’t Vipers.
“They ain’t Vipers, Davis. No tattoos.”
“I see that too.”
The bike on the driver’s side pulled even with Davis’s window. I heard the sound a half second before the side window exploded. A single shot through the glass. Davis grunted and the SUV swerved hard and Rider was already pulling his weapon and shouting but the truck was out of control. We hit the ditch on the right side of the road at maybe forty miles per hour and the SUV tilted, almost flipped, then settled hard on its side with the passenger windows facing the dirt.
My head slammed against something. Pain bloomed behind my left eye. I tasted blood in my mouth and I couldn’t tell if it was from biting my tongue or something worse.
Rider was groaning. Davis wasn’t moving.
I gripped the Glock tighter and forced myself to focus. The motorcycles had stopped. I could hear the engines idling and then cutting off and then footsteps on the gravel. Two sets. Coming toward the driver’s side of the truck which was now the top because we were on our side.
“Get her out alive,” one of the men said. His voice was calm and accented and I didn’t recognize it. “He wants her alive.”
