Chapter 8 - The Knock on the Door
The garage was dead silent except for the low electrical hum of the soda machine in the corner. Maeve held her breath, her hand clenched tightly around the leather-bound notebook inside the shadows of the workbench. Jack signaled silently with his hand, directing Bo and Vance to position themselves on either side of the heavy side door.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The three slow, heavy raps vibrated through the metal door, carrying an unmistakable weight of absolute authority.
"Jack," a raspy, unfamiliar voice called out from the darkness outside. "We know you're in there. And we know you brought the girl and the book with you."
Bo flexed his thick fingers, his eyes locked on the door handle. He looked toward Jack, waiting for the slightest nod to burst through the metal and tackle whoever was standing on the other side.
Jack slowly shook his head, holding up a single finger to signal absolute patience. He stepped toward the door himself, his boots making no sound on the oily concrete.
"We're closed," Jack called out, his voice steady, carrying a hardened edge honed from decades of surviving the highway underground. "Come back during business hours."
"There are no more business hours for Arthur Vance's secrets, Jack," the voice replied, sounding entirely devoid of fear or hesitation. "That bike belongs to the estate of the Iron Heads. Hand over the frame and the journal, and the girl walks away untouched. Refuse, and this entire garage burns down to the cinder blocks by midnight."
Maeve stepped out from the shadows of the workbench, her voice trembling with righteous fury. "My dad wasn't your property!" she shouted toward the door.
"Maeve, shut up!" Jack hissed, shooting her a warning glare.
"Let her speak, Jack," the voice outside chuckled, a dry, humorless sound like dry leaves scraping across pavement. "She has her father's stubborn green eyes. Too bad she's about to inherit his exact same fate."
A heavy metallic click echoed from the door latch. Someone outside was inserting a master skeleton key into the deadbolt lock. Jack didn't wait another second. He lunged forward, throwing his entire weight against the door just as the latch turned, slamming the deadbolt back into place with a resounding crash.
"Bo! Vance! Back door, now!" Jack roared, drawing a heavy iron pipe from the rack beside the workbench.
May you like
They sprinted toward the rear exit, bursting out into the alleyway just as the front door was kicked open with an explosive smash of splintering wood.
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