glanced down to see blood droplets.
“Come, I’ll get you all patched up and into a better room.”
After she got him keys to room five, Dana led him back to the house. Inside, she took a seat across from him at the kitchen table.
“Nice place you have here.”
“Thanks. It could use an update, but it’s home.”
“You know, I could do that,” he said as she applied a small adhesive bandage to his finger. “You give this much attention every time you apply a Band-Aid?”
She grinned, taking up the box and placing it back in the cupboard.
“Call it second nature. Lately I seem to be going through boxes of these with my son.”
He nodded.
“Can I get you a hot drink? Tea? Coffee?”
“No, I’m good.”
“How about something stronger?”
She rifled through her fridge, and pulled out half a bottle of wine.
“Really, I’ll pass.”
“Well, if you don’t mind, I think I will have one.”
She grabbed a tall wine glass from the cabinet and poured three fingers worth.
“Listen, I kind of feel bad. There’s no fridge or microwave. As you can see, we’re in the middle of renovations and…well…” she trailed off. “Look, I usually don’t do this, but since you’re the only guest here…You are welcome to join us for dinner tomorrow evening up at the house.”
He rose to his feet. “Oh, I don’t want to intrude.”
“You wouldn’t; it’s just me and my son.”
“I shouldn’t.”
“C’mon, it’s my way of saying thank you.” She took a deep gulp of her wine, almost finishing it in one go.
He nodded. “You’re welcome.”
When he turned to leave she added, “Well the offer is there, if you change your mind. We’ll be eating at six.”
“Thanks.” He held up his finger. She cocked her head with a smile. “I’ll see myself out.”
The door closed behind him and she knocked back the rest of her drink, contemplating what she would tell Jason.
Chapter 13
T HE ATMOSPHERE AT THE MOTEL on Friday morning was vastly different from the night before. For one, he no longer felt like a stranger. Jack woke to the rumble of throaty exhaust pipes. He slowly opened one eye and took in the sight of gold light spilling in through the gap in the curtains. Apollo was already up, scratching at the bottom of the door.
“Okay, okay.”
Jack swung his legs over the side of the bed and cleared the sleep from his eyes. He ambled over to the window first, and took a quick glance out. Outside, leaning to one side, were five pristine black Harley Davidson bikes. Each one had been custom sprayed with a reaper on the fuel tanks. Two heavily tattooed men straddled across them; the other three weren’t anywhere to be seen. Both of them wore black leather cuts with the phrase Brothers of Mayhem printed in white.
Over the years he’d come across his fair share of bikers. Riker’s was full of them doing time for gun running, narcotic distributing, or murder. He understood them while few others might not have. In many ways, they were a lot like the crime families of New York. They looked after their own, pretended to be running legit businesses while behind the scenes they operated illegally. And, like the mob, they were a haven for the lost. Most misunderstood their appeal, but he didn’t. It wasn’t about acting badass or looking cool. Well, for some it was, and course on the surface it probably looked that way to everyone. But it was more about comradery and a sense of belonging to something beyond the status quo that held them together. It’s what kept them from ratting on each other. In many ways, they were stronger than kin.
He wondered what they were doing here. Maybe they were passing through? Perhaps visiting a friend or family member? Either way, he would have to be even more vigilant. More people on the site meant more prying eyes. He couldn’t afford any mistakes. This was already becoming more complicated by the minute.
Apollo gave them a passing glance before going off to relieve
“Come, I’ll get you all patched up and into a better room.”
After she got him keys to room five, Dana led him back to the house. Inside, she took a seat across from him at the kitchen table.
“Nice place you have here.”
“Thanks. It could use an update, but it’s home.”
“You know, I could do that,” he said as she applied a small adhesive bandage to his finger. “You give this much attention every time you apply a Band-Aid?”
She grinned, taking up the box and placing it back in the cupboard.
“Call it second nature. Lately I seem to be going through boxes of these with my son.”
He nodded.
“Can I get you a hot drink? Tea? Coffee?”
“No, I’m good.”
“How about something stronger?”
She rifled through her fridge, and pulled out half a bottle of wine.
“Really, I’ll pass.”
“Well, if you don’t mind, I think I will have one.”
She grabbed a tall wine glass from the cabinet and poured three fingers worth.
“Listen, I kind of feel bad. There’s no fridge or microwave. As you can see, we’re in the middle of renovations and…well…” she trailed off. “Look, I usually don’t do this, but since you’re the only guest here…You are welcome to join us for dinner tomorrow evening up at the house.”
He rose to his feet. “Oh, I don’t want to intrude.”
“You wouldn’t; it’s just me and my son.”
“I shouldn’t.”
“C’mon, it’s my way of saying thank you.” She took a deep gulp of her wine, almost finishing it in one go.
He nodded. “You’re welcome.”
When he turned to leave she added, “Well the offer is there, if you change your mind. We’ll be eating at six.”
“Thanks.” He held up his finger. She cocked her head with a smile. “I’ll see myself out.”
The door closed behind him and she knocked back the rest of her drink, contemplating what she would tell Jason.
Chapter 13
T HE ATMOSPHERE AT THE MOTEL on Friday morning was vastly different from the night before. For one, he no longer felt like a stranger. Jack woke to the rumble of throaty exhaust pipes. He slowly opened one eye and took in the sight of gold light spilling in through the gap in the curtains. Apollo was already up, scratching at the bottom of the door.
“Okay, okay.”
Jack swung his legs over the side of the bed and cleared the sleep from his eyes. He ambled over to the window first, and took a quick glance out. Outside, leaning to one side, were five pristine black Harley Davidson bikes. Each one had been custom sprayed with a reaper on the fuel tanks. Two heavily tattooed men straddled across them; the other three weren’t anywhere to be seen. Both of them wore black leather cuts with the phrase Brothers of Mayhem printed in white.
Over the years he’d come across his fair share of bikers. Riker’s was full of them doing time for gun running, narcotic distributing, or murder. He understood them while few others might not have. In many ways, they were a lot like the crime families of New York. They looked after their own, pretended to be running legit businesses while behind the scenes they operated illegally. And, like the mob, they were a haven for the lost. Most misunderstood their appeal, but he didn’t. It wasn’t about acting badass or looking cool. Well, for some it was, and course on the surface it probably looked that way to everyone. But it was more about comradery and a sense of belonging to something beyond the status quo that held them together. It’s what kept them from ratting on each other. In many ways, they were stronger than kin.
He wondered what they were doing here. Maybe they were passing through? Perhaps visiting a friend or family member? Either way, he would have to be even more vigilant. More people on the site meant more prying eyes. He couldn’t afford any mistakes. This was already becoming more complicated by the minute.
Apollo gave them a passing glance before going off to relieve
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