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for a meeting at the
Breed’s clubhouse. He never made it home. She didn’t know he was
dead until she saw the police cruiser in front of the bar the next
morning, and Deputy Wilson held his hat in his hands as he informed
her that Harry was found in Glory Ravine, dead of an apparent
single vehicle accident. There hadn’t been much for her to
bury.
    The theory was that he’d lost control of the
bike and ran off the road, flipping the bike end over end and
bursting into flames, burning Harry’s body beyond recognition. She
kept looking at the pictures of the accident and later, she’d
finally discovered what bothered her so much about the accident.
The bike was burned, but there was not a ding or a dent anywhere on
the machine. She prayed Harry was faking his death for most of the
last year, but came to the realization that someone had killed her
brother and set it up to appear to be an accident.
    Her ass was numb from sitting on the four by
six inch pad of leather before they came to a two track leading
into the woods. She held on for dear life and he drove around the
potholes and tree roots in the unkept path. He stopped the scoot in
front of an oversized log cabin, with a wooden porch complete with
a swing, and a raccoon was chewing on something as he sat on the
railing.
    It was too dark to see much, but the small
clearing let the light from the moon and stars illuminate the
steps. She tried to pull her leg from the bike, but got a cramp in
her buttcheek and grabbed it, attempting to rub out the painful
muscle. “Fuck, damn it, fuck, that hurts.” She pulled her leg and
ended up on her ass in the tall grass for her efforts, with the
cramp still keeping her leg taut.
    John shook his head at the sight of her half
reclining on the grass. Damn, I should have thought about
that . That pad was mostly for show anyway. It was a fucking
wonder that she hadn’t been bitching all the way here.
    He set the kickstand on one of the flat rocks
in the ground and moved to help her.
    “Hey, hang on a minute, let me help you,
first let’s get the brain bucket off your head, it’s wobbling
around until only half of your face is showing.” He removed the
helmet and set it on the seat of the bike. She was making such an
awful grimace he felt doubly bad for her, and reached for her
thigh. He rolled her onto her stomach and began kneading her back
just above the cheek of her ass, and down her thigh until he felt
the muscles relax. “There you go, I thought you rode before, sorry
about that.”
    Stevie rolled onto her back and took the hand
he was extending to her to assist her up. “I used to ride with
Harry all the time, I even have a license to ride, but I haven’t
gotten a bike yet. And for your information, big boy, my brother
was considerate enough to have a decent seat on his scoot. Unlike
some men I could name that are dumb enough to believe a woman wants
to be numb from the waist down after fifteen miles of riding on a
thin slice of leather over a metal fender. I should have taken my
chances in my Jeep. I’ll be lucky if I don’t walk bowlegged.”
    He wasn’t about to defend his choice of
transportation. This was his personal bike, he knew this baby from
the ground up. He should since he built it himself. It had a 1200
Harley motor and he’d given it a little love, making it into a
1500, the tranny came with the motor, but the rest of the bike was
strictly John Handy. He had two other bikes at the shop, one was a
bagger with the kind of seat she was talking about, and the other
was for playing in the mud and rougher terrain.
    “Come on, you want to ignore Igor there, he’s
a bum. I made the mistake of feeding him when his mother was killed
up at the highway. I brought him here to turn loose but he was too
small to take care of himself so I took him to the shop for Lonnie
and Chewy to take care of. Chewy took him home and let his ol’ lady
and kids take care of it. He’d probably still be at their house
raising hell