Chapter 3 - Pine Crest Motel
Jax swerved violently across both lanes of Highway 9, carving erratic serpentine lines into the tarmac. The crack of a supersonic rifle round tore the air inches beside his ear, shattering the bike’s left mirror into a spray of silver glitter.
""Keep your head tucked!"" Jax shouted over the wind and the deafening howl of the motor.
Lily tightened her grip, burying her face into his chest, clutching the worn teddy bear so hard her small knuckles turned white. She didn't scream or cry. Her eerie silence chilled Jax to his core—no eight-year-old child should have been so accustomed to gunfire.
Leaning hard into a steep mountain curve, Jax dropped a gear and vanished behind a towering ridge of red sandstone, breaking the sniper’s line of sight. He didn't take the main road to town. He knew every goat trail and abandoned logging path in these mountains. Cutting off the asphalt, he hurled the heavy cruiser down an overgrown dirt trail, sliding through loose shale and dry scrub brush until the drone of the pursuing trucks faded into the distance.
Ten minutes later, the flickering neon sign of the Pine Crest Motel appeared through the pines. Half the red letters were dead, buzzing like angry hornets. The parking lot was empty except for an old rusted station wagon and shards of broken safety glass reflecting the dull moon.
Jax killed the engine, letting the bike coast silently into the shadow of an overgrown oak. He dismounted, lifting Lily down.
""Room twelve?"" Jax asked, his voice a tight wire.
Lily nodded, pointing toward the far corner unit where the curtains fluttered erratically out of a smashed window frame.
Jax drew his customized Kimber .45 from the holster hidden beneath his vest, clicking the safety off with his thumb. ""Stay right behind me, Lily. Step where I step.""
May you like
They approached the door; it was ajar, the lock shattered by a heavy boot. Jax pushed it open with the toe of his boot, weapon raised, slicing the darkness of the room. The smell hit him instantly—copper, burnt powder, and Sarah’s familiar, faint lavender perfume.
On the floor beside the overturned nightstand, a bloodied hand moved faintly against the stained carpet.
