Marcus's jaw tightened.
"Who?"
She looked toward the diner.
"Travis."
"How long?"
She shook her head.
"Please don't."
"Emily."
She looked at him.
Marcus's voice softened.
"I'm not asking because I'm a club leader. I'm asking because I'm a man who has seen people get hurt while everyone else looked away."
Her eyes filled with tears.
"He's not always like this."
Marcus almost sighed.
That was the sentence he had heard a thousand times.
"He's under pressure."
"He loves me."
"He loses control."
"He apologizes."
"He promises it'll never happen again."
Emily wiped her cheek.
"You don't understand."
"You're right."
Marcus paused.
"I don't know your life."
He pointed toward the diner.
"But I know that bruise."
Emily looked down.
She pulled her sleeve over her wrist.
"Three months ago, I moved back here."
"From where?"
"Denver."
"Why?"
"My mother got sick."
Marcus waited.
"She died."
"I'm sorry."
Emily nodded.
"She left me the house."
"So you came home."
"Yes."
"What happened next?"
Emily looked toward the mountains.
"Travis started helping me."
"With what?"
"Everything."
She laughed bitterly.
"Repairs. Bills. The diner. He said Harold wanted him to manage things while Harold was gone."
"How long has Harold been gone?"
"Six weeks."
Marcus frowned.
"Six weeks?"
She nodded.
"He hasn't called?"
"Once."
"What did he say?"
Emily hesitated.
"He said he was going to Montana."
"Did he sound like himself?"
"No."
Marcus studied her.
"What are you afraid of?"
Emily's eyes filled again.
"That nobody will believe me."
Marcus answered immediately.
"I believe you."
She stared at him.
"You don't even know me."
"I don't need to."
She looked down.
A long silence followed.
Then Emily whispered:
"Travis has been taking money from the diner."
Marcus frowned.
"How much?"
"I don't know."
"Harold's money?"
"Yes."
"Does Harold know?"
"I don't think so."
"And the bruises?"
Emily said nothing.
Marcus waited.
Finally she whispered:
"He found out I was keeping copies of the receipts."
Marcus's eyes hardened.
"Why?"
"Because I thought Harold might come back."
She pulled a folded envelope from her apron.
Inside were photocopies.
Bank withdrawals.
Invoices.
Checks.
Hundreds of thousands of dollars.
Marcus stared at the papers.
"This isn't just stolen cash."
Emily shook her head.
"I know."
"What is it?"
She looked him directly in the eye.
"Property."
Marcus understood.
The Copper Lantern sat on one of the most valuable pieces of land in Red Hollow.
A highway expansion project had been approved.
Developers were buying property throughout town.
The diner was worth a fortune.
"Travis wants the land."
Emily nodded.
"He says Harold owes him."
"For what?"
"I don't know."
Marcus folded the papers.
"Where is Harold?"
"I don't know."
Marcus handed them back.
"Do you have copies somewhere safe?"
She hesitated.
"Yes."
"Where?"
"At my house."
Marcus shook his head.
"Not anymore."
Emily looked startled.
"Why?"
"Because if Travis knows about these, he'll search your house."
"He doesn't know."
Marcus stared at her.
"Then let's hope he doesn't."
The diner door opened.
Travis stood there.
Emily jumped.
"Get inside."
She obeyed.
Marcus remained outside.
Travis looked at him.
"You enjoying your stay?"
Marcus smiled faintly.
"Not anymore."
Travis stepped closer.
"This isn't your business."
Marcus put his sunglasses back on.
"Maybe."
He paused.
"But you made it my business when you put your hands on her."
Travis laughed.
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"I know exactly what I'm talking about."
Travis's smile faded.
"You're leaving town tomorrow."
Marcus looked toward the motorcycles.
"Maybe."
Then he looked back.
"But before I leave, we're going to have a conversation."
Travis shook his head.
"You don't scare me."
Marcus smiled.
"Good."
He walked past him.
"Because fear isn't what I'm after."
The Missing Man
That evening, Marcus and the Iron Wolves checked into the old Red Hollow Motel.
They had planned to leave at sunrise.
Nobody mentioned leaving anymore.
At 8:30 p.m., Marcus sat in Room 12 with six club members around a small table.
Photographs of the documents Emily had given him were spread across the bed.
Frank stared at the numbers.
"This is organized."
Marcus nodded.
"Definitely."
One of the older riders, Samuel Price, pointed to a signature.
"These transfers are all approved by Harold."
"Fake?"
"Looks like it."
Marcus leaned back.
"Then Harold didn't leave voluntarily."
Nobody spoke.
A knock came at the door.
Everyone froze.
Marcus stood.
He opened it.
Emily stood outside.
Her face was pale.
"Can I come in?"
Marcus stepped aside.
She entered.