Chapter 2: Twelve Harleys
The police took Breaker away.
At least, that was what Maya thought would happen.
Instead, the first officer through the door took one look at the device, called for backup, and ordered everybody to remain still.
Breaker did not argue.
That worried Maya more than if he had fought.
Men like him didn't willingly surrender control unless they already knew what was coming.
Maya sat on the edge of a booth with Grace pressed against her side.
Ethan sat beside her, unusually silent.
A paramedic checked Grace's wrist where Breaker had grabbed her.
“No fracture,” the woman said.
“Just bruising.””
Maya nodded.
She couldn't look at Breaker.
Not yet.
Across the room, two officers questioned him.
He answered almost nothing.
Name.
Age.
Address.
Occupation.
Then the questions stopped.
One officer walked toward the device.
Another officer whispered something into his radio.
His face changed.
“Everyone out,” he said.
The restaurant owner stared.
“What?””
“I said everybody out.””
Maya stood.
“What about our food?””
The officer looked at her.
For some reason, that question nearly broke her.
Their food.
Their Thanksgiving.
That stupid turkey they had been given because someone at a church had arranged a free holiday dinner for families affected by the fire.
Maya had spent the past month telling her children that losing their apartment didn't mean losing everything.
She had told Grace they would have a real Christmas.
She had told Ethan that things would eventually get better.
And now their Thanksgiving was scattered across a dirty restaurant floor.
“I just wanted them to have one normal night,” she whispered.
Breaker heard her.
He turned.
For the first time since the table had gone over, his expression softened.
“It's not over.””
Maya stared at him.
“You destroyed our dinner.””
“I know.””
“You scared my daughter.””
“I know.””
“You could have killed someone.””
“I know.””
The answers came without excuses.
That made her angrier.
“Then why?””
Breaker looked at Grace.
“Because that table was wired.””
Maya's face went pale.
“How?””
“I saw the light under it.””
“You're saying someone planted a bomb?””
“No.””
“Then what?””
Breaker paused.
“Not a bomb.””
He looked toward the officers.
“Someone wanted information.””
Maya frowned.
“What information?””
Breaker lowered his voice.
“Who was sitting there.””
Her blood ran cold.
The children.
That was the only answer that made sense.
Someone had needed to know who would sit at that table.
Someone had expected them.
Before Maya could ask another question, one of Breaker's brothers rushed inside.
“Breaker.””
Breaker turned.
The man's face was grim.
“We have a problem.””
“What?””
“The Bennetts' house.””
Maya stood.
“What about it?””
The biker looked at her.
Then at Breaker.
“We found a vehicle parked near the old apartment.””
Maya's breath caught.
“That's impossible.””
The apartment had burned.
The building had been condemned.
Nobody should have been there.
The biker continued.
“Plate's stolen.””
Breaker’s jaw tightened.
“Did you check the block?””
“Yes.””
“And?””
“Three cameras were disabled.””
Maya felt dizzy.
“What does this have to do with us?””
Breaker looked directly at her.
“Everything.””
A police officer approached.
“You need to leave now.””
Maya shook her head.
“I don't understand.””
“You don't have to understand. You need to get your children somewhere safe.””
“I don't have anywhere.””
The words escaped before she could stop them.
The officer hesitated.
Maya looked away.
She hated admitting it.
The shelter had a room for tonight.
Maybe tomorrow.
After that, she had no idea.
Breaker heard every word.
He took a deep breath.
Then he looked at his brothers.
“Call the others.””
One man pulled out his phone.
“How many?””
Breaker stared at Maya.
“Twelve.””
Maya frowned.
“Twelve what?””
“Bikes.””
An hour later, Maya stood outside her temporary apartment, holding Grace's hand.
Ethan stood on her other side.
The building was a small two-story rental on the edge of town.
Nothing special.
Brown siding.
Cracked sidewalk.
One streetlamp that blinked every few seconds.
Maya had been given the keys that afternoon.
She was supposed to feel relieved.
Instead, she felt watched.
Then she heard it.
A low rumble.
Grace turned.
“Mom?””
Another engine answered.
Then another.
And another.
Maya's heart began racing.
Headlights appeared at the end of the street.
One motorcycle.
Then two.
Then four.
Then eight.
Twelve Harley-Davidsons rolled slowly toward the building.
They stopped without anyone saying a word.
The men climbed off.
Every one of them wore a leather vest.
Every one of them looked toward Maya's apartment.
Grace squeezed her hand.
“Who are they?””
Maya couldn't answer.
Breaker removed his helmet.
His gray beard was visible beneath the streetlight.
He walked toward her.
“I told you to stay away from the windows.””
“You followed us?””
“No.””
“Then why are you here?””
Breaker looked past her.
At the empty apartment.
At the roof.
At the alley.
At the windows.
Then he said something that made Maya's knees weaken.
“We're not protecting you from the people who burned your apartment.””
He paused.
“We're protecting you from the people who knew you survived.””
Maya stared at him.
“What does that mean?””
Breaker pulled something from inside his vest.
An old photograph.
He handed it to her.
Maya looked down.
It showed her.
Her children.
And her former apartment.
The picture had been taken from across the street.
Before the fire.
On the back was a handwritten date.
Three days before the Thanksgiving dinner.
Maya's fingers trembled.
“Where did you get this?””
Breaker didn't answer.
Instead, he looked toward the dark roof of the apartment building.
“Because whoever took that picture is still watching.””
At that exact moment, the streetlamp went out.
May you like
All twelve bikers reached beneath their vests.
And somewhere across the street, a window slowly opened.
