Chapter 15
Bull scrambled backward in the dirt like a frightened animal, clambered onto his chopper with trembling hands, kicked the starter until the engine caught, and tore out through the salvage yard gate with his two battered lackies trailing behind him in a desperate panic. Within minutes, the roar of their exhaust faded away into the vast emptiness of the western hills, leaving behind only the hot desert wind and the silent mountains.
Jax stood alone in the center of the dusty clearing for a long moment, letting his breathing slow down and the adrenaline recede from his veins. He wiped a streak of sweat and dirt from his forehead with the back of his arm, then turned and walked back toward the trailer at the rear of the lot.
He climbed the metal steps, opened the door, and stepped inside. The air was warm and smelled of motor oil.
“Coast is clear, kid,” Jax said softly.
The corner of the wooden table shifted, and Leo slowly crawled out from underneath it. The boy’s oversized canvas jacket was a little dusty, but his hazel eyes were bright, wide, and steady as he looked up at the big biker. Leo didn't ask what had happened outside; he didn't need to. He could hear the quiet in the air, and he could see the raw, honest exhaustion etched into Jax’s weathered face.
“Are they gone?” Leo asked quietly.
“Yeah,” Jax said, walking over and kneeling down so he was eye-level with the boy. He placed his calloused hand gently on Leo’s shoulder. “They’re gone for good. The road is clear.”
Leo reached into the pocket of his oversized jacket and pulled out the small, faded photograph of a young Jax holding a newborn baby, along with the folded notebook paper. He held them out in his small palm, looking down at them for a long second before looking back up at the biker.
“Mom said you’d know the way,” Leo whispered.
Jax gently pushed the boy’s hand back down, shaking his head with a slow, genuine smile that reached his eyes for the first time in twenty years. “I didn't know the way, Leo. You brought it with you.”
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Thirty minutes later, the FXR was idling by the salvage yard gate, its V-twin engine rumbling smoothly in the afternoon sun. Leo climbed onto the passenger seat, his small backpack secured tightly to the sissy bar, and wrapped his arms securely around Jax’s waist, gripping the heavy leather belt with absolute trust.
Jax dropped the bike into first gear, let out the clutch, and rolled out of the salvage yard onto the open highway. They turned south toward a horizon that stretched out endlessly beneath a clear blue sky, leaving the ghosts of Highway 9 far behind in the dust. They weren't running anymore; they were simply riding home.
