Lucas looked down.
“I didn't do much.”
“You stayed.”
Simple words.
They landed strangely.
Lucas had spent most of his life believing staying wasn't special.
You stayed because there was nowhere else to go.
Red handed Diane the box.
Lucas didn't stop her.
One victory at a time.
Then a tall rider named Michael “Bones” Harris rolled Lucas's bicycle forward.
“Try it.”
Lucas squeezed the brakes.
Perfect.
“How much?”
Bones frowned.
“For what?”
“Parts.”
“Don't insult me.”
“I'm serious.”
“So am I.”
Lucas started calculating.
New tire.
Tube.
Cable.
Maybe fifty dollars.
“I'll repay you.”
Red sighed.
“Caleb warned us.”
“Warned you what?”
“That you're stubborn.”
Lucas crossed his arms.
“I don't want charity.”
A few bikers exchanged looks.
Red nodded slowly.
“Okay.”
Lucas expected argument.
Instead she said:
“Earn it.”
He frowned.
“What?”
“Iron Ridge has a charity ride next month. We need people moving boxes, setting tables, cleaning the clubhouse.”
“You're hiring me?”
“Ten dollars an hour.”
“Minimum wage is higher.”
Red smiled.
“Fine. Fifteen.”
Lucas almost smiled too.
“I have school.”
“Weekends.”
“Work.”
“Your choice.”
Lucas looked toward Diane.
She was pretending not to hope.
Money mattered.
Always.
“When?”
“Saturday.”
“Okay.”
Red held out her hand.
Lucas shook it.
As the riders prepared to leave, one motorcycle remained parked beside the curb.
A black touring bike.
Caleb's.
Damaged fairing.
Scraped exhaust.
Bent crash bar.
Red saw Lucas looking.
“He'll be angry when he sees it.”
“It protected him.”
Red nodded.
“That it did.”
Lucas examined the scrape.
Then noticed something wedged beneath the damaged saddlebag.
A waterproof document pouch.
He pulled it halfway out.
Red's face changed.
“Don't open that.”
Lucas stopped.
“What is it?”
“The reason those men were following Caleb.”
She carefully took it from him.
Lucas stared.
“What did I get involved in?”
Red looked at the pouch.
Then at him.
“Something adults should've handled without you.”
“That's not an answer.”
“No.”
She tucked the pouch inside her jacket.
“But it's the one you're getting until Caleb can explain it himself.”
Lucas watched forty-three motorcycles ride away.
For the first time, he wondered whether last night had been more than random violence.
And whether the men who threatened him might know exactly where he lived now.
Chapter 3 — The Evidence
Caleb Mercer looked less intimidating in a hospital gown.
Lucas told him so.
Caleb laughed, then immediately regretted it because of bruised ribs.
“You always insult injured people?”
“Only ones who send motorcycle armies to my house.”
“That was Red.”
“You're president.”
“Technically.”
Lucas sat beside the hospital bed.
Diane was at treatment, so Lucas had ridden his repaired bicycle to the hospital after school.
Caleb looked surprised.
“You came alone?”
“I'm sixteen, not six.”
“That's becoming obvious.”
Lucas pointed toward the metal brace on Caleb's leg.
“What were those men after?”
Caleb's expression changed.
“You don't need that problem.”
“They threatened me.”
“I know.”
“Then it became my problem.”
Caleb sighed.
The Iron Ridge Riders owned a clubhouse and repair garage near the old quarry.
Six months earlier, a property company called Holloway Development started buying industrial land along the river.
Their planned project was massive.
Warehouses.
Distribution center.
Truck depots.
The city supported it because of jobs.
The problem was groundwater.
A private environmental survey had found contamination from old chemical storage tanks beneath one of the lots.
Cleaning it would cost millions.
Caleb's younger sister, Anna Mercer, worked as an accountant for a contractor involved in preliminary site work.
She discovered invoices suggesting Holloway executives knew about the contamination and were moving soil before formal inspections.
Anna copied documents.
Caleb agreed to deliver them to an environmental attorney.
“How did those guys know?” Lucas asked.
“Someone saw me leave Anna's apartment.”
“Who were they?”
“Security contractors.”
Lucas laughed.
“They didn't look like security.”
“Some aren't very secure.”
“Why not call police?”
“Anna wasn't sure which documents proved what. We wanted an attorney first.”
“And now?”
Caleb nodded toward the hospital table.
“Red has them.”
Lucas sat silently.
He had expected biker drama.
A rival club.
Money.
Something simple.
Instead it was documents and contaminated land.
“Did they cause your crash?”
“Ran me toward the shoulder.”
Lucas felt cold.
“That means they could be charged.”
“If we can prove it.”
“You saw their vehicles.”
“In rain. After hitting my head.”
“I saw them.”
Caleb became still.
Lucas continued:
“Black Ford pickup. White Chevy. Older SUV. One pickup had a dent over the rear left wheel. Kentucky plate ended in 6J.”
Caleb stared.
“You remember all that?”
“I stock groceries six hours at a time. My brain makes games.”
“What kind of games?”
“License plates. Brands. How many blue shirts.”
Caleb smiled.
“That's mildly terrifying.”
Lucas didn't.
“Do police need me?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“Whether you're willing.”
Lucas thought of his mother.
Cancer treatment.
Rent.
School.
He didn't need additional danger.
But he remembered the large man's face.
Now you're part of it.
“Yes.”
Caleb studied him carefully.
“Don't answer fast.”
“I already did.”
“That isn't bravery.”
“What?”
“Sometimes answering fast is just not giving fear enough time to vote.”
Lucas looked away.
He understood that too well.
“Think about your mother.”
Lucas's jaw tightened.
“You don't know her.”
“No.”
“Then don't use her to tell me what to do.”
Caleb raised both hands.
“Fair.”
A long silence.
Then Caleb said:
“Police are coming this afternoon. I'll tell them you witnessed the scene.”
Lucas nodded.
“Okay.”
“And after that, you go back to being sixteen.”
Lucas laughed.
“You say that like I know how.”
Caleb looked at him.
Something in Lucas's tone changed the conversation.
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing.”
“Bad liar.”
Lucas stood.
“I should go.”
Caleb didn't stop him.
But after Lucas left, Caleb called Red.
“Find out what's going on at that kid's house.”
Red was silent.
“That sounds invasive.”
“It probably is.”
“You're worried.”
“Yeah.”