Page 7 of Thunder

"That's only natural. People these days, they don't care for others. Now, I want you to tell me something: what value does getting a stolen car back have compared to having your home, your land, the place where you raised a family, and where the love of your life is buried, stolen right out from under you?"

"Is this a riddle? In case you didn't get it from what I told you about myself back there in the driveway, but school and I didn't get along growing up."

Natalie speaks up. "Some company is trying to force her out of her home so they can develop all this land around here into some resort."

"They've been harassing her. Sending notices, people have been trespassing. It's getting bad," Owen adds. "Nat and I have both been staying here, trying to keep these people away, but there's only so much we can do."

"It's true. They're doing their best to take care of me. Which makes me feel like a very lucky old woman." Eileen looks at her two grandkids with a loving, grateful smile on her face, and it's a look that the two of them give back to her, as well. It's a look that I never received from anyone in my family, except from my grandmother, and even then, I was so young I can hardly remember it. "But that also means, Marcus, that an old car means nothing to me. Not now."

It takes me less than a heartbeat to know what I need to do; not just to make amends, but to fill that empty space inside of me that even the brotherhood of the MC and all the Nikki's on earth can't fill. The thing I've been lacking since I was five years old.

"You need someone to fight for you," I say.

Natalie and Owen both nod, while Eileen stays silent, hands folded, watching me.

"I'm in. I'll help you fight this thing."

Chapter Three

Amelia

My heels click softly against the hardwood floor as I walk into the art gallery, my eyes scanning the crowd for my closest friend, Serenity ‘Sera’ Moon, and, not seeing her, I search instead for the nearest server on the catering staff and grab a glass of wine.

No, two glasses, because the first one goes down in a gulp.

I'm cloaked in a simple black dress. It's nothing special, yet everything special; it's a basic dress, but it's one that I always feel great in, because it fits so perfect that it doesn't feel real, it reveals just enough shoulder and cleavage to feel sexy, but not so much that I can't wear it to a more sophisticated event like the one tonight—the opening night of a new exhibition at my best friend's art gallery, Tide & Palette. Disappearing in the sea of nicely dressed people circulating around the room, viewing art, taking more free glasses of wine from a passing server, taking free hors d'oeuvres from a different passing server, it lets me escape the quandary that's gnawing at my conscience.

Then I see they have Crab Rangoon; I take too many, eat them too quickly, then grab some more even though I know my stomach is going to regret it in the morning.

I'll do anything to not think about work. Even make myself sick on crab puffs.

But, right now, I’m grateful to be here. Right now, all I need to do is look at art, admire art, and enjoy free food and drinks. Things are simple, good. And even those paintings of Sera's—paintings that are mostly beautiful coastal landscapes of the area, which are her specialty—don't prick too much at my conscience and make me think that, in order to keep my job and preserve some of the natural beauty of the area and the precious resource that is pristine nature, I’m going to have to put some people out of their homes.

Shoot, there I go again.

I grab another glass of wine, pass through a group of people that, strangely enough, seem to be talking about motorcycle repair, which is a very odd topic to hear about at an art gallery event, and focus on a painting of an old Spanish Mission, which definitely has nothing to do with coastal landscapes or putting old ladies out of their home.

What a relief.

I lean in, focus, look hard. It’s a touching painting; the skillful lines, the vibrant colors, the small, thoughtful strokes the artist used to show the interplay of light, nature, and the passage of time on the old Mission.

"Babe, I am so glad you made it," comes Sera's voice behind me. "I thought I might lose you to schematics or reports or whatever it is you science types do."

I turn just in time to get pulled into a hug that leaves me smiling.

"Are you kidding? You know I wouldn't miss this for the world. My best friend opening a new exhibit? Come on, Sera."

"You missed it for a couple of years."

"Yeah, because I had that little thing called a master's degree to finish getting and NYU is a long way from Costa Oscura." I finish my wine and take another glass from a passing tray. I can't get enough of these. Even mentioning my degree makes me think about work and I do not want that on any level right now.

"You okay, Lia? You look decidedly not happy."

"Just work stuff. I don't want to get into it."

"Then don't. Enjoy the exhibition. And, if you need a chill place to relax, meditate, or just breathe, I have the studio spacein the backset up just how you like it, so feel free to go back there anytime," Sera pauses, her eyes drifting around the room. "I have to go mingle. I've heard several people mention wanting to buy some of the paintings tonight and commission waits for no one. You should mingle, too. I've seen more than a couple of eligible distractions around here, if you know what I mean."

My eyes follow hers around the room. Even though she's right, my cheeks still get hot. "Really?"

---