Chapter 5 - The Back Door Ambush
The heavy metal door of the diner kitchen banged against the stainless-steel prep table, sending a rack of metal pans clattering to the floor. Standing in the doorway was Vance, blocking the only escape route with a heavy iron tire iron gripped in his right hand. A cruel, jagged smile cut across his bearded face as he shifted his weight from one booted foot to the other.
“Going somewhere, family man?” Vance mocked, his eyes flickering from Jax down to Leo, who buried his face against Jax’s leather vest.
Jax instinctively stepped back, shielding the boy completely with his broad torso. He shifted his grip, sliding his hand down to the sheath of his hunting knife. “Move out of the way, Vance. This has nothing to do with you.”
“Everything the club does is my business, Jax,” Vance spat, taking a slow step forward into the warm, fluorescent light of the kitchen. “The Old Man saw you talking to the kid. He put the pieces together. An old flame up in Idaho, a disappearing act right around the time a baby was born… and now a little lost puppy shows up looking for daddy.”
From behind the counter, Martha raised her wooden bat, preparing to rush the kitchen door, but Jax held up a single palm to stop her. He couldn’t risk Martha getting caught in the crossfire of the club’s brutal internal politics.
“Leave the kid out of this, Vance,” Jax said, his voice dangerously low, vibrating with a suppressed fury that made the enforcer pause for a fraction of a second. “He’s eight years old. He doesn’t know anything about the club, the drugs, or the money.”
“Maybe not,” Vance grinned, hefting the tire iron in his palm. “But he knows your face. And he’s carrying your blood. The Old Man doesn’t like loose ends, and he especially doesn’t like traitors trying to build a new life behind his back.”
Leo peeked out from under Jax’s arm, his big hazel eyes locking onto Vance with quiet defiance. “You’re a bad man,” the boy whispered loudly across the kitchen.
Vance’s smile vanished instantly, replaced by a dark, murderous scowl. He raised the tire iron, stepping forward with sudden, explosive speed. “I’ll show you a bad man, you little—!”
Jax didn’t hesitate. He thrust Leo backward into Martha’s waiting arms, shouting, “Take him out the front!” and lunged forward to intercept Vance before the heavy iron tool could swing downward.
The collision was brutal. Jax slammed his shoulder directly into Vance’s chest, driving the larger man backward against the stacked crates of produce. The kitchen erupted into a violent blur of flying vegetables, splintering wood, and heavy grunts of pain as the two veteran fighters locked limbs in the cramped space.
Jax caught Vance’s wrist, preventing the tire iron from coming down, but Vance used his sheer weight to force Jax toward the deep fryer. A searing hiss filled the air as Jax managed to twist, throwing Vance off balance and sending him crashing through the screen door into the alleyway.
Pantings heavily, bruised and bleeding from a cut above his left eyebrow, Jax spun around and rushed back into the diner. Martha and Leo were already standing near the shattered front window, waiting for him.
“Are you okay?” Martha gasped, staring at the fresh blood on Jax’s forehead.
“I’m fine,” Jax said, grabbing Leo’s hand. “We don’t have much time before Vance gets back up. We need to run now.”
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They bolted out the front door into the freezing mountain mist, heading straight for the shadows where Jax’s old Harley-Davidson motorcycle was hidden behind a stack of wooden pallets. But as Jax revred the engine to life, the headlights cut through the fog to reveal three more Iron Vipers bikes blocking the narrow gravel exit of the alley.
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