Page 4 of Thornhill Road

He nodded and I laid my tablet in my lap in order to pick up the frame. I was surprised to find not a picture but a clipping out of theGillette News Record, our local paper. There was no date, so I wasn’t sure how old the clipping was, but I recognized the establishment in the photo and knew it couldn’t have been more than a few years old.

The article was about Steel Mustang, a popular biker bar located on the edge of town on the Wild Stallions Motorcycle Club compound. Even though bikers were the typical patrons, the bar wasn’t exclusively for those in the club, and it drew quite the crowd. They were known for their live music and the great bands they hosted.

I didn’t know this via hearsay.

I’d been a couple of times.

I could attest, it was awesome.

However, I didn’t recognize the man in the photograph.

Not that it was a great quality photo. It was black and white. He was leaning against his motorcycle with his arms folded across his chest and a pair of sunglasses covering his eyes. I knew enough to be sure the leather vest he wore was akutte, and I was certain the patch on the back matched the tattoo he was sure to angle toward the camera on his right bicep. It was difficult to see the details in the clipping, but everyone in town recognized the Wild Stallions logo. It was a skeletal stallion head, only it was designed to appear made out of metal. And the mane wasn’t hair, but fire.

It was badass.

I’d never officially met anyone who rode with the Wild Stallions—but the members who made up theheartbreaker club,known informally as myexes,were men who could have been cut from the same cloth.

Or, if not the same cloth, they’d at least have been found in the same fabric section at the store.

All that to say, I didn’t need to actually read the article to know what it was about—but I did glance at the caption beneath the photo.

Sullivan Thomas, long time member of the Wild Stallions MC and majority owner of Steel Mustang, poses in front of the up-and-coming biker bar.

“Sullivan, that’s your son?”

“Sully,” Ed corrected. “Turned out alright, no thanks to me.”

I studied the dying man in front of me for a second, curious about the details behind the sad look in those hazel-blue eyes. He was all alone, and I didn’t like it.

“Says here he’s the owner of this bar. That means he’s local,” I pressed gently.

“We don’t talk, Tess. He doesn’t even know I’m sick. It’s just me. Move slow on account of the pain, but I can still manage to get around most of the time. If you’re gonna be comin’ by for night visits, I got a spare key I can give you.”

“Okay, Ed,” I murmured, setting aside the photo frame. “Let’s try that for a while and see how we get on.”

I stayed for a few more minutes, then collected my things and the spare key to the house on Thornhill Road. I bid Ed farewell, assuring him I’d be back in a couple of days and insisting he call me should he need me before then. It was a few minutes after four when I got behind the wheel of my car. I was done for the day. I was free to go home and sleep, which was exactly what I wanted to do.

Except, I couldn’t.

Ed Thomas was all alone in the house I’d just left, and that didn’t sit right with me.

I understood families were complicated. People had falling outs and relationships were torn apart. But I also knew what it was like to lose a parent to an illness they couldn’t beat. Sully didn’t even know his dad was sick. I didn’t understand what that was all about, but death had a way of changing people’s perspectives. Maybe whatever was broken between father and son could be reconciled with the threat of losing their chance on the horizon.

I figured it was worth a shot.

I didn’t know Ed, but I knew it was my job to make sure he died in peace and comfort.

It was obvious he was lonely, and it felt like my duty to reach out to Sully, just in case all they needed was a little intervention.

So, I didn’t go home.

I put my car in reverse, I backed out of the driveway, and I pointed my car toward that bar.

Mustang

Trix was late. Forty-fiveminutes late.

Mustang looked at the clock and felt his blood start to simmer.

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