"You're stubborn."
"Earl said the same thing."
"Your husband?"
"Was."
Derek's expression softened.
"I'm sorry."
"Thank you."
She tried again.
The lock didn't move.
Derek watched her.
"You can ask."
"Ask what?"
"Whatever you're trying not to ask."
Evelyn glanced at him.
"People always have something they want to know," Derek said. "Usually whether we're dangerous. Why we live the way we do. Whether the stories are true."
Evelyn adjusted the cutters.
"That's their question."
"What is yours?"
She looked up.
"What do you take in your coffee?"
Derek blinked.
"What?"
"I've got a thermos in the truck."
She nodded toward the old pickup parked beside the building.
"It's black coffee. Sugar packets in the glove compartment. No cream, unfortunately."
He stared at her.
"I'm asking so I know what to offer you."
For the first time, something cracked through his expression.
"Black's fine."
"Good."
She smiled.
"Me too."
Evelyn leaned into the cutters.
"Earl always said putting milk in good coffee was like adding water to good whiskey."
Derek looked at her.
"Your husband sounds like an interesting man."
"He was."
The lock finally snapped.
Derek's hands dropped.
Evelyn stood slowly, one hand against the wall.
Four enormous men were free.
But Evelyn Harper didn't yet understand that she hadn't simply rescued four stranded bikers.
She had stepped into the middle of something much bigger.
Something dangerous.
Something that had begun four days earlier on a highway outside Cheyenne.
And something that would eventually force the police, the FBI, and half a dozen motorcycle chapters to ask one uncomfortable question:
Who had chained four men to Evelyn Harper's abandoned repair shop—and why?
The Road Home
The western wall of the old repair shop offered the only real shade.
Evelyn led the four men there.
"Sit."
They sat.
"Water."
She handed out bottles from the truck.
Marcus—whose name Evelyn had finally learned—drank two bottles without stopping.
Ryan drank more slowly.
Nathan held his bottle against the side of his neck before drinking.
Derek simply sat with his head against the wall.
The heat was brutal.
Montana summer pressed down over the land.
The highway was nearly empty.
A hawk circled in the distance.
Evelyn opened the paper bag of sandwiches she had bought at a gas station earlier that morning.
"Eat."
Ryan looked at the sandwich.
"You brought these for yourself?"
"Yes."
"And you're giving them to us?"
"I can buy more."
Marcus looked at her.
"You really aren't afraid of us."
Evelyn shrugged.
"I've known men more dangerous than you."
Derek smiled.
"Who?"
"My husband."
That got a laugh.
It was the first time the four men laughed since Evelyn had found them.
She sat down beside them.
Ryan looked toward the building.
"You really own this place?"
"Me and Earl."
"You still run it?"
"Not anymore."
"What happened?"
"Earl got sick."
Her voice changed slightly.
"He couldn't work anymore. Then he died."
Nobody interrupted.
"We ran this shop for thirty-three years," Evelyn continued. "Roadside repair. Trucks. Cars. Farm equipment. Anything with an engine."
She looked at the old garage doors.
"I couldn't sell it."
"Why?"
"Because selling it would have felt like admitting he was really gone."
The men understood.
Perhaps more than she expected.
Derek stared at the gravel.
"My father had a garage."
Evelyn looked at him.
"Did he?"
"Yeah."
"What happened?"
"He sold it."
"Why?"
"He couldn't afford to keep it."
Evelyn nodded.
"That happens."
Derek looked at her.
"You're different."
"No."
"You are."
Evelyn smiled.
"People always think they're the first ones to notice."
Ryan leaned forward.
"We need to tell you what happened."
"Yes."
Evelyn folded her hands.
"Because I know there is more to this."
Marcus nodded.
"We were coming back from Cheyenne."
"For what?"
"A memorial ride."
"Who died?"
"Tommy Briggs."
The name was followed by silence.
Ryan spoke next.
"Tommy had been with our club twenty-two years."
"He died in February," Nathan added.
"Heart attack," Marcus said.
"Sudden," Derek added.
Ryan looked at Evelyn.
"Tommy had a daughter."
"How old?"
"Twenty-one."
"College?"
"Marine biology."
Evelyn smiled.
"Why marine biology?"
"Tommy took her to the ocean when she was nine."
Ryan shook his head.
"She never recovered from it."
Evelyn laughed softly.
"I like Tommy already."
"He was good people."
They explained the ride.
Six chapters had participated.
Hundreds of motorcycles.
The memorial had been peaceful.
No trouble.
No fights.
No arrests.
They had started the trip home four days earlier.
Then, outside a small town, they noticed a black pickup following them.
At first they thought nothing of it.
Then it appeared again.
And again.
Finally, the motorcycles split into smaller groups.
Marcus, Ryan, Nathan and Derek took a different route.
The black pickup followed.
They stopped at a gas station.
The truck stopped too.
A man got out.
He wasn't wearing a vest.
He wasn't a biker.
He approached them and said:
"Tommy left something behind."
Marcus had asked:
"What?"
The man had smiled.
"Something that belongs to us."
Then everything happened quickly.
Two vehicles blocked the exits.
Men with masks appeared.
There had been a struggle.
Nathan remembered being struck from behind.
Ryan remembered trying to reach his phone.
Derek remembered hearing someone say:
"Get them into the building."
Then darkness.
When they woke up, they were chained inside Evelyn's abandoned repair shop.
They had been there for more than two days.
Evelyn listened without interrupting.
When they finished, she asked: