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Her expression wasn’t quite reticent. Surprised maybe. Shy and soft with hope. “I think we are, too.”

Penny and I set to work. I trained her on the handheld, wireless cash register device, which was fairly simple, then we started double-checking inventory and making sure the product we had out on the floor matched the software numbers.

We chatted the whole time.

She was nice.

Kind.

Obviously lonely.

“So why did you move to Crimson Creek?” I asked as I verified the coconut cream body scrub matched the number in the system.

I had my back to her, but I could still hear the soft puff of air leaving her nose.

“I lived in the city my whole life. It’s weird how you can have a million people around you and still be completely alone. I figured it was time to see if I could find some kind of meaning somewhere else.”

Her sorrow wound around me.

“You don’t have family there?” I chanced. No doubt, I was treading into a difficult subject. I could feel it radiating from her spirit.

It was always easier to skip over the hard parts. Allow friendships to be surface. Bare and superficial.

I didn’t want that, but I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, either.

“Don’t answer that if you don’t want to, and I’m sorry if I’m being nosy. I just…”

I peeked back at her.

Her head shook as she resituated a stack of embroidered hand towels. “No, I don’t mind. I…I had a family once, but I lost them a long time ago. I stayed thinking I might be able to cling to the memories, but I realized I couldn’t sit stagnant in that grief any longer. I had to do something. Make a change.”

Pained affection filled my chest, and I turned completely around.

She still had her back to me, but there was no missing the grief woven into her posture.

“I’m really glad you came here, and I hope you find that meaning here,” I murmured.

She peered at me from over her shoulder. Somberness and hope filled her eyes. “I’m really glad I did, too.”

I gave her a gentle dip of my chin before I felt the rush of energy seep into the air.

A low rumble in the distance that could only mean one thing.

I’d grown so accustomed to that sound that it had become an intrinsic part of me. A comfort when the silence would threaten to swallow me whole.

The vibration grew to a roar, so powerful it shook the store’s walls. About fifteen seconds later, a mob of motorcycles appeared on the road.

They rode slow as they pulled off into the lot of Keg & Creek Tavern across the street.

Every one of my brother’s men wore their Crimson Crows cut.

The macabre emblem on the back that depicted three crows sitting on a headstone, their talons dripping with blood, another prancing on the grave.

Crimson Crows arched across the top of the scene, and each of the men had their position stitched below it.

Very few truly understood what that picture really represented.

My brother was at the head, ruling from his throne at the front of the pack.