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Beth Ryder.
Paige Ryder.
And Nora Ryder.
Jesus. Evan had certainly left a trail of broken hearts with his wives, ex-girlfriends, and sisters. “So we each take one and deliver it.” I passed them along, figuring if we divide and conquer, we could get the job done easily enough.
“Did you not hear what he asked of us?” Aiden asked me like I was two beers shy of a six-pack.
“Yeah, to hand deliver them.”
“No, fool. He wanted us to go together, as a crew, one last time,” Lucas stated and took a swig of beer.
“I’ve only got a month's leave before I start my new assignment.” I studied them. I liked the idea of one final mission before we all dispersed to different corners of the country.
Aiden glanced up from the stack of letters he was thumbing through. “We’ve all got the time to take. I say we do it. I’m ready.”
James shrugged and rose from the table to retrieve another beer from one of the coolers. “We can do it in chunks, if necessary, between deployments and assignments.”
Wyatt scowled fiercely. “Speak for yourself, numb nuts. My life is my own in three months’ time. But I’m up for some government-paid leave.”
“Okay, so the five of us are going to do this?” I couldn’t deny the rush of excitement at the prospect of the five of us and the open road.
“Yeah. We travel light. Take the bikes. And hand deliver each one. We can leave tomorrow,” Lucas said, looking all fired up.
Wyatt eyed them with suspicion. “Y’all sure you want to do this? I can take them once I’m retired in three months. I don’t mind.”
“No offense, but shut the fuck up. We’re all going,” I insisted, resolved to see this thing through until the bitter end.
I held up my beer. “For Evan.”
James, Aiden, and Lucas lifted their beers. “For Evan.”
And we all glanced at Wyatt, who sighed and said, “Fuck it. For Evan,” and toasted us with his beer.
We were doing it. One final ride—for Evan.
2
Wind whipped past me. The sun blazed over the pavement as we sped south. The roar of my Harley Road King filled me with a sense of peace I rarely found elsewhere.
The drive down Interstate 95 gave me time. Time I needed to get my head in the game for what came next. Out of the five stops on our journey, it was the first one that gave me pause. Because Moira Kelly was literally the last woman on the planet I wanted to interact with in any capacity after what she did.
But I’d do it for Evan. I was glad for the road trip. It was better than stewing at my place on base and watching daytime television.
Why had Evan wanted us to hand deliver these letters? Why was it so important to Evan when he knew he would no longer be around? What does a dead man get from the five of us acting like the Postal Service?
I wished I could answer those questions. That Evan had left more behind so I could understand why he felt he had no other options.
And would Moira welcome us? We’d find out soon enough if the trip south had been worthwhile.
While winter still had a tight grip up north, it was a balmy eighty-three degrees here in Charleston, South Carolina. A warm breeze carried a hint of the salty sea. Palm trees dotted the landscape between an eclectic mixture of historical and modern buildings.
The five of us drove through town. Charleston was quaint without being obnoxious about it. There was history to be had, along with a plethora of military bases and installations in the area. But there’s enough newness with restaurants and nightlife that it looked like a lively, thriving city with enough charm to make it unique.
Leaving the city proper, I turned my Harley down a drive lined with bald cypress. The subdivision had a spate of antebellum-style homes with modern touches. It was a well-to-do area with manicured lawns.
How did a stripper afford a home in an area like this? It was one of the many puzzles I hoped this trip would solve for me.
