Chapter SEVEN
Six weeks later...
"Do it, tesoro, (Treasure)" Ace snarls, and I shake my head with dread. "Now!" He expresses quietly as he tries to dissuade the salesman from pressing the large, rounded red button beneath the glass display cabinets, which would alert the police.
My rapid breathing causes the visor of my helmet to fog up, obscuring my vision and the extra padding inside impairs my hearing.
My gaze flits between the store's entrance door and Ace, who is pointing a gun at the elderly salesman, who has his hands covering his head and his body trembles. I gulp and raise the hammer above my head; a breath later, I let it slip between my fingers, watching as it shatters the glass window on the stand and I turn my head away due to shards of glass flying through the air.
I reach inside the display cabinet, picking out the large pieces of glass, trying not to slice my fingers through my gloves and stuff as much jewellery as I can into the pillowcase within our two-minute time limit.
Jacob honks the car horn twice, signalling that the police are three blocks away, approaching rapidly and that we have thirty seconds to get out of the shop. I leap behind the counter, shattering the wall display units and cleaning them out, before leaping back over the counter with Ace's assistance and fleeing the store.
I pause at the door, my gaze returning to the elderly gentleman curled up in the shop's corner, still trembling. "I'm sorry!" I apologise to him, guilt eating me up, from the inside out.
Ace revs the dirt bike and spins the arse end of the bike towards me as I run after him. I stuff the pillowcase into the front of my leather jacket and leap onto the bike behind him, my arms tightly wrapping themselves around his waist, grasping onto him for dear life.
The sirens scream through the atmosphere, police alerting the town of their presence as it infuses with the loud exhaust from Ace's bike. The adrenaline and fear of being caught have my heart racing at a rapid pace, and I have a distinct impression that my helmet is restricting my oxygen intake.
I turn my head and notice three cop cars chasing us, weaving in and out of traffic as they attempt to catch up with us. "Ace... Ace, they're closing in on us," I scream out, tapping my hand against his chest, hoping he hears me.
I watch as his wrist flicks on the handlebar, simultaneously pressing down on the peg with his left foot, shifting gears, and the dirt bike lurches forward, leaving the police behind to eat our dust.
He takes a left down an abandoned street, then rides across a paddock, where we jump onto train tracks and he revs his bike, the grunting sound travelling through the tunnel, bouncing off the walls as we enter it, alerting Magnus that we are close by.
Through the tunnel, a loud horn blasts, the screeching sound pierces my ears, and I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for the sound to subside. Seconds later, as the train approaches, bright lights illuminate through the darkness, and Ace comes to a halt, spinning the back of the bike around to face the direction we came, and I scream, terrified that gravity will get the better of us and cause us to crash.
Surprisingly, we do not, and for that, I am eternally grateful to the Gods.
We wait for the train to pass us before Ace begins pursuing it. When the final container on the freight train opens, Magnus stands there with a smirk on his face. He drops a large metal plate and I watch as it crashes onto the cast iron tracks, sparks flying off the sides as Ace drives up to it and drives us inside.
Ace kills the engine, dismounts the bike and assists Magnus in hoisting the plate back into the train before they close the door and begin yelling and high-fiving each other.
I take off my helmet, toss it to the ground, and dismount the bike, removing the jewellery case from my jacket. I walk towards them, a deep scowl etched into my face as I toss the jewellery at his feet.
"You inform Trent that he is free to put a bullet between my eyes at any time he wishes!" I sob, wiping the back of my hand across my nose. "I'm not going to jail for anything, least of all for theft!"
As Ace chuckles with a sinister tone, I catch a glimpse of Magnus's smile faltering. "Do you believe Trent will take orders from you?" He snarls. "You should be grateful to me," he sneers as he advances on me. "Every time you are compelled to perform a task, it is because we have lost a man in the war you started!" His hand snakes around the base of my throat, pinning me to the rusty metal wall. "Or would you prefer Trent fuck you into submission? Humiliating you time and time again in front of his army?" He hisses in my ear and coats my earlobe with his spit.
"Are you saying I owe you a debt of gratitude?" I glare at him in astonishment. "I am in this position as a result of your actions." My words are tainted with contempt. "It would have been better if your mother had swallowed you!" I sneer at each word, imagining a world free of him.
"I owe you absolutely nothing, Ace." my voice trembles. "You've ruined my life, robbing me of the privilege of saying my final farewells to my father!" Tears stream down my cheeks "I despise you. With every vein in my body, I despise you, and you make me sick to my stomach!" I scream directly at him, watching as his eyes darken and cloud with rage.
"Do I make you sick, aye?" He releases me, violently ruffling his hair as he paces the container in front of me. "I didn't appear to make you sick last night or a few hours ago when your body was withering beneath me." He looks at me as if I was the insane one.
"I was struggling against you, you dumb fuck. I've repeatedly told you not to touch me; you repulse me and-" As I watch him draw his gun and aim it at me, the words falter from my lips.
I tilt my head back and laugh at him; his threats have no impact on me because all I want is to die at his hands. I know he loves me with all his heart, but I also know that if I push him to pull the trigger, he will go crazy and Trent will be forced to kill him, himself.
"Come on!" I plead as I take a step forward and press my head against the tip of his gun.