Chapter 3
Through the smudged plate-glass window of the diner, Julian watched the standoff with blurry, exhausted eyes. The world outside was a smear of neon blue and asphalt gray, punctuated by the pale flash of Chloe’s yellow shirt. Every breath he took sent a sharp, agonizing stitch through his ribs, reminding him of the alleyway behind the motel three towns back where the same three men had cornered him, demanding the microchip hidden inside the motorcycle’s custom engine housing.
He gripped the edge of the formica table, his knuckles stark white against the dark laminate. He wanted to stand up, to stumble outside and take the blows himself instead of letting a brave, terrified teenage waitress bear the brunt of his dangerous past. But his legs were leaden, filled with lead and old pain. The heavy boots he wore felt like anchors. When he had crashed his blue machine into the gravel lot of this forgotten diner, he had simply hoped to die quietly out of the rain. Instead, he had found Chloe, a girl who refused to let him become just another casualty of the highway.
Outside, the confrontation escalated by inches. Biker 1, whose name was Frank, raised his wire cutters, the steel jaws opening and closing with a sharp metallic snap. "Last chance, sweetheart. That bike holds something that belongs to our boss. You hand over the keys, or we take the bike piece by piece right over your dented yellow fender."
"There are no keys!" Chloe shouted back, her voice ringing out clearly over the drone of the storm. "He didn't leave them in the ignition! You're not taking anything!"
Frank laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. "We'll see about that."
He lunged forward with surprising speed for a man of his bulk, reaching out a tattooed hand to grab the end of Chloe’s baseball bat. Reacting purely on instinct, Chloe swung. The heavy wood whistled through the humid night air and connected with a dull, echoing thud against Frank’s forearm. The impact sent a jarring shockwave up through Chloe’s wrists, rattling her bones, but it stopped Frank in his tracks. He grunted, stumbling back half a step, dropping his casual smirk for a genuine scowl of surprise and fury.
May you like
Biker 2 cursed aloud, dropping the heavy metal part into the mud with a dull splash. "You little bitch—"
Before the second man could charge, the heavy diner door behind Chloe creaked inward. A thin bar of warm, flickering light spilled across the wet asphalt.
