"That's enough."
The man with the pipe moved toward her.
Then headlights appeared on the road.
The men froze.
Another vehicle was coming.
The driver of the black truck cursed.
"Someone's coming."
He turned.
"Get them into the truck."
The prisoners struggled.
Eleanor shouted:
"Run!"
The first chained rider kicked one of the men in the knee.
Chaos exploded.
The shotgun fired into the air.
Eleanor ducked.
The four prisoners moved together despite their chains.
One grabbed the metal pipe.
Another tackled the man with the shotgun.
The third pulled the truck driver's door open.
The fourth ran toward Eleanor.
"Come on!"
"I can't run that fast!"
He grabbed her hand.
"I'll carry you."
"Don't you dare!"
He almost laughed.
Even in the middle of chaos, Eleanor slapped his arm.
"I'm seventy-two, not helpless."
They escaped into the rain.
Behind them, the abandoned station disappeared into darkness.
Eleanor didn't know their names.
She didn't know why they had been chained.
She didn't know who was hunting them.
She didn't know that the men she had just saved were members of the largest motorcycle rescue organization in three states.
And she certainly didn't know that two days later, hundreds of motorcycles would thunder into Red Hollow.
The road would shake.
The mountains would echo.
And every criminal who believed Eleanor Hayes was an easy target would learn just how badly they had misunderstood the old woman who had stepped into the storm.
The four men followed Eleanor through the woods.
The tallest one supported another rider whose leg was badly injured.
They finally reached Eleanor's house.
She opened the back door.
"Inside."
The men hesitated.
Eleanor looked at them.
"If I wanted you dead, I wouldn't have brought you here."
The tallest man nodded.
They entered.
Eleanor locked the door.
Then she turned.
"Sit."
The men obeyed.
She pointed at the tallest.
"You."
He looked confused.
"What?"
"You're bleeding."
He touched his forehead.
"I've had worse."
"I didn't ask whether you've had worse."
She pointed toward the kitchen table.
"Sit."
He sat.
Eleanor opened her medical cabinet.
She had been a nurse before retirement.
For thirty years, she had worked at Red Hollow Community Hospital.
She knew how to clean wounds.
She knew how to stop bleeding.
She knew how to recognize shock.
And she knew when someone was lying about how badly they were hurt.
She cleaned the man's forehead.
He winced.
"Name?"
He hesitated.
"Lucas."
"Full name."
"Lucas Kane."
She moved to the next man.
"You?"
"Marcus."
"Full name?"
"Marcus Cole."
The third man said:
"Jared."
The fourth whispered:
"Noah."
Eleanor nodded.
"Why were you chained?"
Nobody answered.
She looked at Lucas.
"You're not criminals."
Lucas stared at her.
"How do you know?"
"Criminals usually don't look surprised when an old woman points an empty gun at them."
Marcus almost smiled.
Eleanor continued treating their wounds.
"Who were the men?"
Lucas looked toward the window.
"They're part of a group called Black Ridge."
"Never heard of them."
"You were lucky."
"Apparently."
Lucas lowered his voice.
"They've been taking people."
"Who?"
"Travelers. Truckers. Motorcycle riders. Anyone who sees what they shouldn't."
Eleanor stopped.
"What shouldn't they see?"
Lucas looked at her.
"A weapons shipment."
The room became silent.
Jared shifted.
Lucas continued.
"We were following the shipment."
"Why?"
"Because we investigate trafficking."
Eleanor raised an eyebrow.
"Police?"
"No."
"Federal agents?"
"No."
"Then what?"
Lucas looked at his jacket.
The patch showed a black mountain surrounding a silver shield.
"We're members of the Iron Valley Riders."