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“So, what can I do for you?” he asks.
“Need to make a bike disappear,” I tell him.
He finally looks at the bike behind us and I see his eyebrows go up and he whistles low.
“Yeah, I’d say you do,” he notes. “What happened to your Fat Boy?”
“Collateral damage,” I tell him. “Couldn’t be helped.”
“That’s a damn shame. That bike was cherry, brother.”
“Yeah, I know,” I say then look at Molly. “But some things are worth a little sacrifice.”
“The Deviants know you got their bike?” he asks.
“That’s… complicated.”
“Ain’t it always?”
“Can you wave a wand and make it disappear?”
He levels me with a stare. “Gonna cost ya.”
“We’ve been friends for how long now, Chico?”
“Not long enough for that big a favor,” he counters, but a hint of mirth in his voice betrays him.
“All right, all right,” I relent. “You know I’m good for it. And I’ll need a new one out of here too.”
He purses his lips and nods. “Yeah, I think I can do that,” he says. “Won’t be as cherry as your last bike, but it’ll get you where you need to go.”
“That’s all I need,” I tell him.
“All right, follow me.”
Chico leads us to the back of his shop and through the door. It leads into a parking lot that’s full of bikes. A lot of them are Frankenstein jobs—no doubt parts from bikes that have disappeared. But there are also some nice ones that aren’t made from various and sundry parts mixed in as well.
He walks us directly over to a vintage Harley. It’s nice. Real nice. Could use some maintenance and shine, but it’s in shockingly good condition considering it’s at least a couple decades old. I give it a once over and whistle in appreciation. If I could put in some work on this bad boy—and make no mistake, it could use some work—I could be riding this for decades to come. Hell, my son could probably ride this when he’s old enough.
That thought makes me pause. Where the hell did that come from? Me having a kid? I know things are moving real fast with Molly, but that’s a bit far in the future even for me.
“Haven’t had much time to work with this one,” Chico tells me. “But no one will know it’s you.”
“I’ll take it.”
Chico opens the saddlebag and pulls out a set of keys.
“Here you go, brother,” he says.
I give him the keys to the Deviant’s bike. “I appreciate you, man.”
“Any time. You know I got your back.”
“And I got yours. You need anything, just give me a shout and I’ll come running.”
“Count on it,” he says.
* * *
