Chapter 11: The Approach
The heavy iron door of the workshop felt colder than usual as I bolted it from the inside, sliding the thick steel deadbolt home with a solid, echoing thud. Outside, the dusk was settling over the small rust-belt town, turning the bruised gray clouds into streaks of charcoal and ash. Up in the loft, Martha was resting, her breathing shallow but steady under the patchwork quilt Clara had brought over a couple of nights ago. Little Leo was sitting at the scarred oak work table, completely absorbed in sketching the intricate spokes of a motorcycle wheel with a soft lead pencil. I walked up the wooden stairs as quietly as my heavy boots would allow, every floorboard creaking under the weight of my anxiety. I needed to keep them calm, but my own chest felt like it was trapped in a tightening vise. Sterling Vance didn't leave loose ends, and a corporate enforcement division meant real money, real muscle, and deputies in their pockets. I pulled the embossed business card from my leather vest pocket, staring at the gold letters in the dim lamplight. Vance Holdings. Martha had fled that gilded cage twenty years ago to escape a life where human beings were treated like line items on a balance sheet, and now her brother was hunting her down like an escaped asset. I sat down on the edge of the cot near Leo, watching the boy's small, determined hand sweep across the paper. He didn't know about the car, the card, or the men looking for us. He just knew he had finally found the person in the faded photograph. "You're getting really good at those lines, kiddo," I said, trying to keep my voice steady and casual. Leo looked up, his hazel eyes flashing with pride as he held up the sketch. "I want to draw the whole bike, Jax. Every single part." A knot formed in my throat. I reached out and ruffled his messy light brown hair, silently swearing that nobody was going to take this away from us. Downstairs, the heavy oak door rattled. Three slow, deliberate knocks rang through the silent workshop, shaking the dust motes in the air and stopping my heart dead in its tracks.
