Chapter 11: The Hard Choice
Jax shoved Ray back with enough force to send the bondsman stumbling off the wooden porch onto the gravel. Ray caught his balance, smoothed down the front of his creased gray suit with agonizing slowness, and pulled a small, business card from his breast pocket. He tossed it onto the welcome mat like a calling card left by the grim reaper. "Think about it, Jax," Ray said, turning on his heel and walking toward a nondescript sedan parked near the edge of the lot. "You can't outrun the law on a chopper forever. Especially not with an eight-year-old on the back." Jax stood on the porch, his chest heaving, watching the sedan kick up gravel as it roared out onto Route 9 and disappeared down the highway. He felt sick to his stomach. The illusion of freedom he had maintained for the past seven years was shattering into a million sharp pieces, and the jagged edges were cutting straight into the only thing in the world that mattered now.
He turned and walked back inside the dim motel room. Leo was sitting on the edge of the bed, his small hands clutching the chenille bedspread, his hazel eyes tracking Jax’s every move with a quiet, devastating maturity that broke the biker's heart. The boy hadn't heard every word of the argument, but he had heard enough to know the word state, enough to know that men in suits meant doors locking and people taking things away. "Who was that, Jax?" Leo asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper. Jax closed the door, slid the deadbolt home with a heavy, final-sounding click, and walked over to the bed. He knelt down on one knee in front of the boy, taking Leo’s small, cold hands in his large, scarred palms. It was the first time Jax had initiated physical contact since they met, and the gesture seemed to shock the boy into absolute silence.
"That was a ghost from my old life, kid," Jax said, his voice stripped of all its usual gravelly armor, sounding vulnerable and raw. "A man who thinks he can tell us where to go and how to live." Leo tilted his head, his hazel eyes searching Jax’s face with fierce intelligence. "Are they going to take me away?" he asked, the question hanging in the toxic air of the motel room like a falling blade. Jax squeezed the boy's hands a little tighter, swallowing the knot of grief and rage in his throat. "Not while I'm breathing," Jax said, his voice fierce, absolute, and loaded with a promise he intended to keep with every drop of blood in his body. "Listen to me, Leo. We're going to pack our things right now. We're going to leave this place behind and head west, out toward the badlands where the maps run out. We're going to disappear so thoroughly that even the ghosts won't be able to find us." Leo looked down at their joined hands, then slowly raised his eyes to meet Jax’s gaze. A small, brave nod replaced the fear on his pale face. "Okay," Leo whispered. "Let's go."
