Chapter 3 - Smoke in the Kitchen
Glass and white sugar exploded in the air. Hector bellowed in pain, stumbling back as blood welled from a deep gash above his brow.
Jax hit the linoleum behind the counter, rolling smoothly to his feet. One of the younger thugs lunged over the pass-through window, swinging a brass-knuckled fist, but Jax caught the man's wrist, twisting it brutally downward until the bone snapped with a sickening wet pop. The man screamed, pitching forward into the fry vat, splashing sizzling canola oil across the grill station.
Jax kicked through the swinging doors into the back kitchen. Clara was pressed against the industrial freezer, her hands over her ears, while Toby stood by the emergency exit, clutching his faded jacket tight around his chest.
"Out the back!" Jax barked, shoving open the heavy steel push-bar door.
Cold mountain air blasted into their faces, cutting through the heat of frying grease. The alleyway behind the diner was narrow, flanked by towering cinderblock walls and overflowing dumpsters. Parked in the shadows sat Jax's battered shovelhead chopper, its chrome dull with road grime.
"Jax, I can't leave the diner!" Clara sobbed, trembling in the bitter wind. "They'll destroy everything!"
"If you stay, Clara, they'll put a bullet in your head just to keep you quiet," Jax growled, dragging her by the elbow toward the street corner. "Run to the sheriff's station. Tell Miller that Reyes is in town. He won't want the trouble, but he’ll lock you in a cell for safety."
Clara hesitated, looking down at Toby. "Take care of him, Jax. He looks... God help you, he has her face."
Before Jax could respond, the kitchen door behind them flew off its hinges with a deafening bang. Hector stumbled into the alley, blood streaming down half his face, a snub-nosed revolver gripped in his white-knuckled fist.
"Nobody leaves!" Hector snarled, raising the barrel.
Jax lunged, throwing himself in front of Toby. The gunshot cracked like thunder in the enclosed alley, a slug tearing through the flesh of Jax's left shoulder, the impact spinning him halfway around.
Through the white-hot flare of agony, Jax swung his boot into a loose iron pipe leaning against the dumpster, kicking it upward into his grip, then drove the jagged metal straight into Hector’s chest. Hector gasped, collapsing into the trash bags with a strangled groan.
Jax dropped the pipe, his hand clamping over his bleeding shoulder. He turned to the boy. Toby was staring at the blood dripping between Jax’s fingers, completely unmoving.
May you like
"Get on the bike," Jax wheezed.
As Toby climbed onto the pillion seat, a low rumble vibrated through the alley walls. Three more sets of headlights turned into the alley's far end, trapping them between the dead end and the street.
