Death Row Read online

  DEATH

  ROW

  by

  Sienna Lane & Amelia Rivers

  All rights reserved. This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook is copyrighted material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any form without prior written permission from the publisher, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution, circulation or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.

  Sienna Lane & Amelia Rivers

  Published March 2015

  Cover design © Arijana Karčić, Cover It! Designs

  Edited by Rogena Mitchell-Jones

  DEATH ROW is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and events portrayed in this book either are from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, establishments, events, or location is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Trademarks: This book identifies product names and services known to be trademarks, registered trademarks, or service marks of their respective holders, The authors acknowledges the trademarked status in this work of fiction. The publication and use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Copyright © 2015 Sienna Lane & Amelia Rivers

  ISBN-13: 978-1508756910

  ISBN-10: 1508756910

  All rights reserved.

  Chapter One

  EVELYN

  I pull my gloves off with a snap, turning towards the small patient with a comforting smile.

  “All done!” I tell the nine-year-old boy. His eyebrows are drawn together, but the tension leaves his body as he realises the torture is over.

  “You did really well,” Matthew, the dentist, tells him. I go over to the lolly jar and pull out a lollipop.

  “Here you go,” I say as I hand it over. The boy gives a quick thank you as he grabs the candy, jumps out of the chair, and runs towards his mother, who has been sitting in the corner as the kid had his teeth cleaned.

  “Thank you,” she says as she ushers her son towards the door. “See you later.”

  “Hopefully, not too soon,” Matthew jokes the corner of his eyes crinkling. As they leave, I clean up, putting all the used equipment into the tray for sterilisation.

  “Leave that for later,” Matthew says with a smile, his blue eyes bright. “Go take your lunch break.”

  “All right, great. I’m starving!”

  I grab my bag on the way out, waving bye to Carly the receptionist, who was pinching the bridge of her nose at what seemed to be a frustrating telephone conversation.

  I sigh as I leave the building, feeling free immediately. As much as I love my job as a dental assistant, it is sometimes hard not to feel claustrophobic in those consultation rooms.

  *****

  I walk across the street to my usual cafe. I didn’t bother looking at the menu; I knew it off by heart.

  “Hey, Liam,” I say to the cute twenty-something barista who works there. “Can I get a…”

  “Got it here,” he interrupts, handing me a sandwich. “Peri chicken and salad sandwich, extra mayo.”

  “Am I that predictable?” I ask with a smile.

  He laughs. “You always get the same thing, Evelyn. It isn’t that hard.”

  “Maybe I’ll have to try something new tomorrow,” I say, grinning.

  He shakes his head. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  “Thanks heaps.”

  I hand over a ten dollar note, telling him to keep the change.

  “See ya tomorrow,” he says with a wink.

  “Catch you then.”

  I walk back over to the dental surgery. Looking at the sky, I soak in my surroundings. It was a beautiful November day. I thought about the disgustingly hot weather that would begin next month and decide against eating in the staff room. I walk over to the carpark and jump onto the tray of my ute. Old as the thing was, it works fine and has given me no trouble. Touch wood.

  I remove some of the cling wrap and take a hearty bite, moaning at the deliciousness.

  A sudden screeching noise makes my head snap around. I see a motorcycle fly into the carpark from the alley beside my work building. Another follows and another after that. Suddenly, there are at least a half a dozen cruisers spiralling into the carpark. The riders wear leather jackets and vests emblazoned with gang names. One read, ‘Ash & Bone’ and the other ‘Death Deceivers.’ I pull my whole body onto the tray, crouching down. My heart is beating so hard, it feels like it’s fighting its way out of my body. What the hell was going on? I’ve heard of both motorcycle gangs on the news before, but I hadn’t actually run into any of them or seen them in person until right now. I knew it wasn’t a good sign. It was well known that the MC gangs in these parts were bad news. You didn’t want to mess with them because you would end up dead or missing.

  Unable to look away from the scene before me, I watch as one of the Ash & Bone men pulls a gun from his jacket. He aims and fires, sending one of the Death Deceivers men spinning out of control. The bike crashes, but the man gets up. He is cradling his shoulder, injured. I can see the blood darkening his shirt and dripping down his arm. Another member rides over to him and scoops him onto the back of his own bike, fleeing the scene. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Matthew come out from the building, obviously drawn by the sound of the gunshots.

  In happened in slow motion.

  A member of the Death Deceivers, who looks as though he is almost seven feet tall, raises his gun and shoots at the man who hit his comrade. The bullet does not find its mark, but instead, embeds itself in Matthew’s chest. His body jerks as he is hit and he goes down immediately, as though a puppeteer has simply dropped his strings.

  I scream into my hand. Luckily, it suppresses the sound and the men do not look my way.

  “Shit, Ghost!” a member of the Death Deceivers says. Shoulder length brown hair is escaping from his helmet. All the Ash & Bone bikers fly away on their bikes, eager to leave the scene.

  “Fuck,” the one called Ghost yells. The one who shot Matthew. He removes his helmet and runs his hand through sandy blond hair. I couldn’t see his face clearly, but I try to take note of every detail I can. “Fuck, I didn’t mean to, Row. He moved, and I didn’t see the other dude standing there. “

  “We gotta leave,” the other one says, revving his engine. Ghost puts his helmet on and does the same. Within seconds, they are gone.

  I jump from the tray and run over to Matthew, crouching by his side. His breathing is shallow, his face pale and drawn.

  “Matthew, please be okay,” I beg, looking around for someone to help.

  “Help us!” I yell. “Someone call a fucking ambulance!”

  Carly rushes out from the building.

  “Oh, God, Evelyn,” she says, tears streaming down her face. “We heard the shots and Matthew told me to stay inside. I called the ambulance, they’re on their way.”

  I nod absently, my focus all on Matthew. His breathing is laboured and blood is pooling around him.

  It didn’t look good.

  “Stay with me,” I say, my tears dripping onto his face. His eyes are unfocused, but his lips curve into a smile. He tries to talk, but the words are little more than croaks. “What’re you saying?” He coughs and tries again.

  “I always had a crush on you,” he says. My heart breaks. I run my hand through his messy brown hair.

  “Well, you should have bloody asked me out!” The joke i
s ruined by the body racking sob I emit. His smile widens. Then he stops breathing.

  “NOOOOOOO!” Carly covers her face with her hands, her body arching over as she sobs in earnest.

  It feels as though my heart has stopped. My lip is shaking so badly, biting down on it only rattles my jaw. The ambulance pulls up, the paramedics flying out of the car as soon as it comes to a stop, quick to get to Matthew’s side. We are pulled away from his body as they check his vitals and pronounce him dead.

  *****

  I am sitting on my couch with a throw rug pulled tight around me, a hot cup of tea in my hands. It isn’t particularly cold tonight, but the warmth of the rug gives me comfort. My eyes are swollen from crying and my head is scattered. I just can’t believe what has happened. The more I go over it in my head, the more difficulty I have trying to comprehend the events of the day.

  Matthew is dead.

  Another sob escapes me and my hands shake, spilling the tea over my lap. I stand up, shrugging the rug off me so I can clean up the mess. Putting down my cup, I pull my sweater off, careful not to rub the wetness against my face. A hysterical giggle escapes me as I realise how ridiculous that is, seeing as I am already a blubbering mess.

  I go into the laundry and dump it into the washing machine. Adding some detergent, I turn it on, not caring that I am wasting water and electricity for one sweater that I don’t even care about.

  I am tired. The police questioned me repetitively, almost as though they thought I was withholding information. I guess I just don’t remember enough of what happened. They said it might be shock.

  I go back into the living room, picking up the teacup and taking it to the kitchen. I turn on the tap and slowly rinse it, carefully placing it on the drying rack. As I dry my hands on a tea towel, an overwhelming sense of hopelessness floods me. I take a deep breath and walk to my room. I just want this day to be over. I climb into bed and pray sleep will claim me quickly. It doesn’t.

  Chapter Two

  ROW

  I do another chin-up then let myself drop. Pulling off my t-shirt, I walk into my bedroom and on into the bathroom. The t-shirt lands on the floor, quickly followed by the rest of my clothes. I don’t bother to put on any hot water, welcoming the icy spray. As I scrub the sweat from my body, my mind roams.

  Seeing the man lying there.

  Dying.

  Because of us.

  I’m not a stranger to death—not even a stranger to killing, but something about an innocent man dying just because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time messes with my head. It doesn’t help that he was wearing a white coat. The dark red against the stark white is a brutal reminder of the contrast between him and me and the lives we live. I’m sure he did a hell of a lot more good for the world than I do. Fuck.

  The Ash & Bone MC has been a thorn in our side for some time now. With the recent crackdown on bikers by the feds, it’s important that we keep a tight leash on our territory, and Ash & Bone are threatening that control. We’d been sent out to gain info, but shit had escalated pretty fucking quickly. It should have been one of those bastards to take that bullet, not some unsuspecting dentist. I turn the shower off and grab the towel from the rack. I run it over my body carelessly before shoving on a pair of jeans and a clean t-shirt.

  I pass Ghost on my way out of the clubhouse, planning to take a much-needed ride to clear my head. Nothing is more calming than the wind hitting your face, cutting out all other sounds.

  “Club meeting,” he says, clapping me on the back with his hand.

  “Now?” I stare longingly at the door, thinking of my beautiful girl who was sitting on the curb just outside.

  “Yeah, bro. Right motherfucking now,” Ghost says, as he scratches the back of his head. “Prez is pissed. You’ll be needing that ride after.” Despite his vibrato, I know Ghost is worried. By shooting that man, he drew unwanted attention to our club. Luckily, no one had been around. Maybe we won’t get linked to it.

  I exhale deeply before heading to the club room behind Ghost.

  Everyone is already seated at the table. Large and rectangular, it is worn but strong, filled with history. A lot of decisions have been made at this table, decisions that have affected every single one of us. I take my seat on Prez’s left.

  “You guys fucked up,” he says by way of greeting once everyone is seated. He is wearing his usual shades, but his gaze is piercing, regardless. Prez is the kind of man you just do not fuck with. “I told you. I fucking told you not to do anything stupid. This was supposed to be a clean ride.” He looks up, waiting for someone to explain. Just as I am about to defend us, Spider pipes up.

  “No one saw us,” he says, leaning forward with a shrug of his shoulders. Fuck, why can’t he just shut up? A muscle in Prez’s jaw ticks.

  “Yes, they did,” Prez says. Shit. Silence reigns the table for a moment.

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “Razor was listening to the radio. There was a woman and she saw everything.” He lets everyone soak that in. “You were all wearing your cuts. That means the fucking pigs know we were involved and that we shot that dentist. A fucking dentist!” He slams his fist down on the table in a rare show of his anger. “If she can actually identify Ghost, this is going to turn into more than just a fucking inconvenience.”

  “There’s got to be something we can do to handle this,” I insist though I have no fucking idea how to control this situation.

  “You would hope so, Row,” he says, turning towards me directly. “You were in charge. If this turns to shit, it’s on you.”

  “We’ll fix this,” I say, looking him in the eyes. He returns the stare.

  “You had better.”

  *****

  “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Ghost asks.

  “I can’t think of anything else, can you?” I take his silence as an answer. “Didn’t think so.”

  I grab the ropes and rags from the boot of the van. I smile darkly, thinking how cliché the vehicle choice is.

  “You know the deal. Be quick and quiet. Nobody sees us go in or come out. We’ve fucked up enough already. If we get caught, Prez will probably kill us to save him the trouble of actually dealing with this mess.” I’m mostly joking.

  “Got it, Row. Let’s do this.”

  We pull the masks over our faces and stalk towards our prey.

  Chapter Three

  EVELYN

  Not knowing what else to do, and desperately needing the distraction, I go to work. Dennis, the other dentist, told me not to come in today and said he’d organise all the appointments and let Matthew’s patients know about what had happened. The last thing I wanted was to stay home alone, so I woke up, got dressed, and drove to work. When I pull into a parking spot, I’m overcome by grief. The police tape was still there, marking off the area around where Matthew had been shot. It replays in my head, and I keep thinking about how things could have been different had he just not come outside. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time and paid for it with his life.

  I push those feelings aside as best I can and get out of my truck. As I shut the door behind me, I turn to lock it. A hand covers my mouth, reaching around from behind me. Instinctively, I try to scream, but no sound escapes me. An arm goes around my waist, trapping my arms in an iron hold. I go deadweight, but the strong hands hold me up with ease. I stand again. I bend my knee and bring my foot up sharply. I’d assumed the assailant was a man, and my prediction rang true as I hear him grunt in pain when my heel connects with his gonads. Unfortunately, he must have friends because the momentary freedom is short lived as something hits my head and everything goes black.

  *****

  I wake up with my head throbbing, a large bump likely to form if it hasn’t already. My blurry vision slowly clears, and I take in my surroundings. I am gripped by fear as I realise I am not in my house, nor anywhere I’ve been before. Careful not to move, I look around as much as I can. The room is bare and cold. I am lying on an
uncomfortable bed, the mattress thin and old. The concrete floor is dusty and the grey paint on the walls is chipping off. I turn my head slightly so I can see the other side of the room.

  A man is sitting in a chair that is pushed up against the wall, right next to the door, and my movement catches his attention. He jerks up, eyes on me, saying nothing. He is big, slightly overweight, and wearing a leather vest with the logo for the Death Deceivers on it. My heart skips a beat.

  I push down the fear and sit up.

  “Where am I?” I ask. I intend to sound demanding, but my voice shakes. The man says nothing but keeps staring. He is trying to intimidate me. It’s working. “The police will be looking for me.” No reaction. I shrug, aiming for nonchalance. “I guess I’ll get some more rest as I wait for them.” I roll over and close my eyes, but sleep doesn’t come to me. Instead, I lay there, petrified, hoping this is some kind of shitty dream I’ll wake up from and laugh about later.

  *****

  When I wake up in the room again, I know I have to face reality. I have been kidnapped by the bikers who killed Matthew. Matthew. My eyes swell with tears at the thought of him. While I never had feelings for him or thought of him like that, I cared for him. He was kind, sweet, and clever. It pains me to think I’ll never see him again. Part of me wonders what would happen to my job as well, but it is really the least of my concerns right now.

  With a new sense of determination, I look around again. There is nothing useful in the room. My guard is dozing off; his head is falling as sleep slowly takes over his body.

  This might be my only chance to escape, and I have to take it.

  As slowly as I can manage, I roll off the bed, landing softly on my feet. I creep over to the sleeping guard. His dark hair, slightly longer at the front, is slipping down over his forehead. He looks boyish and almost peaceful. A moment of regret fills me, but I sweep it aside. I shouldn’t feel any pity for this man. He is instrumental in my kidnapping. Maybe even in Matthew’s death.