Page 25 of Rolling Thunder

It was another unusual turn of events. Kayla put the last horse away and got in her truck to go get Evan’s dog. She wanted to get this done pronto, didn’t want to be poking around on his property after dark with nothing but a floppy, friendly little dog to protect her. As she came around the back of the house, a twinge of emotion turned inside her when she saw Abbey.

He’d set up a large dog pen off his garage. It looked like a few kennels strung together to create a pen that was approximately thirty by thirty feet. Half was grass and the other half gravel. There were pavers around the edge to prevent the little rascal from digging out, a shade cloth, a baby pool, and a doghouse. Abbey was lying on a little mesh dog cot, looking bored, but contented. It was obviously a new setup. Had he done this because she’d admonished him about letting the dog run loose? He cared what she thought, or cared about the dog, or both.

“Hey, you,” Kayla said. The dog leaped up off her cot, bouncing off the wall of the kennel in her excitement. “Look what Evan did for you.”

There was a leash clipped to the gate of the kennel, and Kayla clipped it to the collar of the exuberant little dog before letting her out. She knew the dog could be off like a shot and she would never be able to catch her. She tried to imagine Evan toiling over this pen for the dog so she could be comfortable and safe while he was gone. “I think maybe he’s starting to like you,” Kayla said as the dog writhed with joy against her.

As she started to walk the dog back to her truck, Abbey suddenly pulled toward the garage with such force that it caught Kayla off guard and yanked her to the door of the shed. There was a half-chewed raw hide that Abbey had obviously abandoned there. Kayla bent over to retrieve the chew, and as she straightened up, she found herself looking into Evan’s shed. There was a classic Indian in the process of being rebuilt. Pieces of gleaming chrome lay about on clean drop cloths. Behind that was a shining, restored custom Panhead chopper. There was a car under a cloth that she couldn’t help but peek under. Unless she was mistaken, that was a ’69 GTO. She knew enough to know she was looking at hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth of vintage motorcycles and cars. A cold feeling seeped into her.

She knew they were filming a TV show, but she didn’t think the opening season of a reality show netted money like this. Especially since, judging from the state of different builds and the dust covering some of the projects, this stuff had been here awhile. Where had he gotten the money for all this and why was it seemingly hidden in his shed behind his deceptively modest house? Who was Evan, really?

CHAPTER 10

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jake said, clunking his beer bottle down for good measure.

“Nope,” Evan responded.

“You’re on TV? I can’t fucking believe it!” Jake’s eyes twinkled with the ever-present mischief that had brought their family much joy and heartache. Despite his dangerous and reckless life, Jake was in good humor more often than not. He had a happy-go-lucky, infectious energy.

“Believe it, brother,because you’re probably going to be on TV pretty soon yourself.”

“There could be worse things,” Jake continued. “Maybe they’ll give me a show too. How about Conch Republic Choppers? Key West Choppers?”He laughed.

“I can’t exactly pitch it to my network for you,” Evan said, and a tiny black bloom of anger unfurled in his chest. He’d spent his life looking after Jake. Jake had spent his life rocketing from one chaotic ride to the next, taking any risk that presented itself, come what may. And what often came was a path of destruction. That was just part of how he earned the road name Hurricane Jake.

Jake slapped Evan’s arm good-naturedly. “Well, don’t look so pissed. Sounds like things are really turning around for you.”

“Naw, man, they found out about my prison bit,” Evan said, and Jake sobered. “They might cancel the show, I don’t know. Right now, it’s just a cluster fuck. Media trying to get the story…”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Jake said quietly.

“Well, if they get the whole story, you know they’re gonna comesniffing after you. So whatever you got going on down here…” He studied Jake. He didn’t want to come right out and accuse him. On the other hand, he did. And why had he come to warn him anyway? The conflict that always raged in his heart was the same. No matter how fucking crazy-mad he got at Jake for his foolish bullshit, he could just never let him fall facedown in the gutter. Even when he deserved it. This was his little brother, and Evan took it on as his duty to watch out for him, come what may.

Jake shot him a hard glance. “What I got going on down here is a custom bike shop that builds and repairs motorcycles for whoever’s got the cash, and that’s it. Most of my customers are middle-aged businessmen having a midlife crisis who want to pretend to be bikers and spend forty grand on a machine to make them look cool and attract chicks.”

“And the rest of your customers?” Evan asked quietly, without looking at Jake. He knew the answer. After Evan had gone to prison, he’d stopped asking if Jake was still involved with the Iron Pirates. He’d been sitting in Jake’s bike shop for less than a half an hour. He’d seen the midlife-crisis guys go by. You could tell them by their brand-new Harley-Davidson gear. They looked soft.

There was another kind. The bikes roared louder with custom pipes; the jackets were beat and broken in. They had a grim and dangerous presence before they dismounted. And he’d seen the unmistakable cut of the Iron Pirates, a skull with an eye patch between the apex of two crossed cutlasses. Iron Pirates MC rocker patches. They were a ruthless outlaw motorcycle gang that dominated prostitution and drugs in southwest Florida.

It chapped Evan’s assthat Jake would continue to associate with the Pirates after everything.

“My customers pay me to build them bitchin’ bikes, and that’s it,” Jake said, raising his volume and lowering his chin. Evan wished he could believe him. That was Evan’s cue to let it go. Whatever was going on down here, Jake wasn’t going to tell him. And did he really want to know? Evan had a sudden epiphany of freedom. Jake was a grown-ass man. This was his stepping-off point, and Jake was gonna do whatever Jake was gonna do.

About then, the dish with the flower tattoos knocked on Jake’s office door. He jerked his head slightly to invite her in.

She cracked the door long enough to say, “Pike is looking for you,” then retreated.

“Tell him I’ll be out in a minute,” he called to her through the door.

“My mechanic’s kinda needy sometimes,” he said, turning back to their conversation.

“She’s off-limits, man,” he said, following Evan’s gaze.

“That your woman?” Evan asked. Jake looked at the girl through the glass front of his office and his expression was complicated.

“No, but she ain’t yours either,” he said. Evan knew without asking that there was way more to that story. Maybe if his little brother fell in love with a woman, he’d change his ways. Maybe not.

CHAPTER 11

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