Ray lowered his eyes.
“You're talking about Frank.”
“I am.”
Frank Malloy had once been one of the most powerful men in the region.
He ran illegal gambling operations, protection schemes, stolen motorcycle parts, and weapons trafficking.
But that wasn't the worst part.
He recruited young riders who had no families.
He gave them money.
Gave them purpose.
Then demanded loyalty.
“Frank wanted me to help him intimidate people,” Elias said.
“You refused.”
“Yes.”
“So he came after you.”
Elias nodded.
“What happened?”
“A warehouse.”
Ray stared.
“The Tucson warehouse?”
“Yes.”
Ray's breathing changed.
Everyone in the old club knew about the warehouse.
But nobody knew exactly what had happened there.
Elias continued.
“There were seven men inside.”
“Frank's men?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“I walked out.”
Ray waited.
“And the others?”
“Some walked out too.”
Ray looked at him.
“You never killed anyone.”
Elias's silence answered.
Ray swallowed.
“You don't have to tell me.”
“I know.”
Elias stared into the flames.
“That's why I don't raise my voice.”
“Because?”
“Because I learned what happens when men confuse volume with strength.”
Ray sat back.
For several minutes, only the fire spoke.
Then Hammer approached.
Both older men looked at him.
Hammer removed his cap.
“I owe you an apology.”
Elias nodded.
“Yes.”
Hammer blinked.
“You're not going to say I don't?”
“No.”
Hammer almost smiled.
“I deserved that.”
“Yes.”
Ray laughed.
Hammer sat down.
“I want to learn.”
Elias shook his head.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because you want to become harder to beat.”
Hammer was silent.
“And that's not the same as becoming harder to hurt.”
Hammer looked at him.
“What does that mean?”
Elias leaned forward.
“Power is easy.”
He tapped his cane against the dirt.
“Control is difficult.”
Hammer listened.
“Anyone can swing a fist.”
Elias looked directly into his eyes.
“Not everyone can choose not to.”
Hammer nodded slowly.
Then headlights appeared beyond the rally gates.
A black pickup truck entered the grounds.
It stopped beside the main building.
Three men stepped out.
Ray's expression changed immediately.
“Elias.”
Elias turned.
He saw the men.
His face became completely still.
“Who are they?” Hammer asked.
Elias stood.
“The past.”
The Return
The three men crossed the fairground slowly.
The first was tall and gray-haired.
The second was younger, muscular, and wearing a black leather vest with no club colors.
The third stayed behind them.
Hammer stood.
His instincts told him something was wrong.
Ray moved beside him.
“Don't.”
Hammer looked at him.
“Don't what?”
“Get involved.”
The older man stopped ten feet from Elias.
“Been a long time.”
Elias nodded.
“Marcus.”
The man smiled.
“Still remember.”
“I remember everyone.”
Marcus glanced at the cane.
“Age finally caught you.”
“No.”
Marcus laughed.
“You're still doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Answering questions nobody asked.”
Elias remained calm.
Hammer noticed the man's hands.
His fingers kept flexing.
Nervous.
Or prepared.
Marcus looked at Hammer.
“And who are you?”
Hammer stepped forward.
“Wade Collins.”
Marcus studied his patches.
“Iron Saints.”
“Yes.”
Marcus smiled.
“That's unfortunate.”
Hammer's jaw tightened.
Ray grabbed his arm.
“Don't.”
Marcus looked back at Elias.
“You owe me something.”
“I owe you nothing.”
“Your brother disagreed.”
Elias's expression changed.
Only slightly.
But Hammer saw it.
“Your brother?” he asked.
Marcus ignored him.
“You walked away thirty-seven years ago.”
“Yes.”
“You left other people to clean up the mess.”
“No.”
Marcus stepped closer.
“You think because you're old, people won't remember?”
Elias's voice remained quiet.
“People remember exactly what they want to remember.”
Marcus pulled something from his pocket.
A photograph.
He threw it at Elias.
It landed at his feet.
Elias bent down.
The photograph showed a young man.
Dark hair.
Leather jacket.
A motorcycle.
Hammer looked at it.
“Who is that?”
Elias answered without looking up.
“My son.”
Silence.
Ray closed his eyes.
Hammer stared at Elias.
“You have a son?”
“Had.”
Marcus smiled.
“He died because of your choices.”
Elias slowly raised his head.
“My son died because of yours.”
The smile disappeared from Marcus's face.
“What did you say?”
“You heard me.”
Marcus took one step forward.
Hammer stepped between them.
“That's close enough.”
Marcus looked at him.
“You think you're part of this?”
Hammer shook his head.
“No.”
He glanced at Elias.