Chapter 6 - The Mechanics of Fear
The truck cab was silent save for the low hum of the heater and the rhythmic swish of the windshield wipers cutting through the gathering dusk. Jack drove with both hands gripping the steering wheel at ten and two, his jaw clenched so tightly a muscle twitched in his cheek. Maeve sat in the middle seat, staring down at the throttle cable resting in her lap like a venomous snake. Bo and Vance sat in the back, murmuring quietly among themselves.
"We need to call the sheriff," Maeve said, breaking the suffocating silence. Her voice was sharp, laced with a mixture of fear and defiance. "Someone left that part on our driveway. That's trespassing, and it's a threat."
Jack kept his eyes fixed on the empty asphalt road winding ahead through the pine trees. "And what are we gonna tell the sheriff, Maeve? That a ghost left a motorcycle part on your driveway because your dad’s old bike has a stolen frame?"
"It wasn't stolen!" Maeve snapped, turning to face him fully. "My dad was an honorable man! You keep implying he was mixed up in something dirty, but you haven't given me one real reason to believe you!"
"Your dad ran with the Iron Heads in the nineties," Vance spoke up from the back seat, his voice heavy with reluctant pity. "Before they imploded. Arthur was their chief engineer. When the club split over a cargo heist that went sideways, half the members ended up in federal prison, and the other half ended up six feet under. Arthur vanished the very same week."
Maeve shook her head violently, tears finally spilling over her lashes and tracking down her freckled cheeks. "He raised me alone on a mechanic's pension! He worked sixty hours a week at the local depot! He didn't have a criminal bone in his body!"
"People change, kid," Bo muttered softly, looking out the side window at the dark woods. "Or they spend the rest of their lives hiding from the things they did."
Jack pulled the truck off the main road and parked it behind the Iron Eagle garage, cutting the engine. The headlights illuminated the weathered sign hanging above the bay doors. He turned to Maeve, his weathered face softening under the dashboard lights.
"We're going to finish the bike," Jack said quietly, his tone absolute. "Whatever Arthur was running from, that machine is the key to it. But we do it inside our gates, where we can protect you."
May you like
Maeve looked down at the throttle cable, her fingers tracing the cold metal. She opened her mouth to argue, but before she could speak, a blinding beam of white light flashed across the garage windows. A black unmarked sedan crept slowly past the entrance, its headlights off, watching them from the dark.
---
