Page 68 of Sachie's Hero

Before he could start the engine, a dozen motorcycles streamed into the already full parking lot.

As they parked wherever they could, they surrounded the car where Teller and Sachie watched and waited.

Teller sank into his seat, his hand on the ignitionswitch, ready to set the engine in motion should any trouble erupt.

One of the men who’d parked near the front of the building slipped off his bike and turned his face enough that Teller could see the bruised cheekbone of one of the men who’d attacked him in the hotel. “Shit,” he whispered. “The guy by my door is one I fought with at the hotel.”

Sachie ducked low in her seat as a man strode past her door. She drew in a sharp breath. “That’s the guy I hit with the lamp.”

Teller didn’t dare turn on the engine and draw attention to them. Not until the group of bikers entered the building.

On the backs of their leather vests were the words PELE MAKA.

“Pele Maka,” Teller whispered. “Is that Hawaiian for something?”

“Yes,” Sachie said. “Pele is the goddess of fire and volcanoes. Maka is the word for eye.” She leaned forward, her gaze on a young man climbing off a small motorcycle that looked more like a racing bike or what Teller would have called a “crotch rocket.”

The guy’s face and the way he wore his hair were familiar.

“Isn’t that—” Sachie frowned.

“—the guy who stole your purse,” Teller said through clenched teeth. “He didn’t stay in jail long.”

“The kid with him...” Sachie sucked in a sharp breath, and her face blanched. “Luke,” she said, barely above a whisper.

Before Teller knew what was happening, Sachie flung open her door, lunged out of the car and raced for the kid.

“Sachie, no!” Teller cried out. He shoved open his door and leaped out of the car, too late to stop her from following the kid into the building.

Teller’s cry had the eight remaining bikers still standing in the parking lot turning toward him.

The man with the bruised cheek pointed at Teller and yelled, “Get the bastard!”

Teller ran for the entrance to the bar, desperate to get to Sachie. He only made it ten feet before the bikers closed ranks around him. A man stepped in front of him and shoved him backward.

Another shoved him from behind, sending him toward the guy with the bruised cheek.

Outnumbered eight to one, Teller would have to fight his way through them to get to Sachie. He balled his fists and came out swinging.

The nightmares,the hallucinations and the shadowy sightings of a dead teenager had rushed over Sachie when she’d spotted Luke.

She was out of the car and bursting through the door of the Leather & Chains bar before logic kicked in and slowed her steps.

Luke was dead. The young man she’d seen in the parking lot and followed into the bar couldn’t be Luke.

Then she saw him again. The thief who’d taken her purse was shoving the Luke look-alike toward a hallway near the rear of the bar.

Sachie lowered her head and weaved her way through burly bikers smelling of leather, booze and cigarette smoke. She had to know the truth. Who was this kid who looked so much like Luke?

“Hey, chickie, where ya goin’ in such a hurry?” A man grabbed her arm. “Stick around. Let me buy you a drink.”

She forced a smile and shook her head. “Sorry. Gotta pee. Maybe after?”

“Countin’ on it,” he said and released her arm. “Don’t make me come lookin’ for you.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Sachie hurried toward the hallway where the kid and the thief had disappeared. She’d just entered the dark corridor when the thief stepped out of the men’s restroom andblocked her path, a sneer pulling his lip up on one side. “I got a grand waiting for me out the back door. All I gotta do is deliver, and bitch, you’re making it too easy.”

The thief gripped her shoulders.

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