“That belonged to my wife.”
Mace’s expression hardened.
“No.”
Rick’s face changed.
Just for a second.
But Elena saw it.
Fear.
Mace walked to one of the saddlebag-equipped touring bikes.
He removed a waterproof document envelope.
Inside was a photocopy of an old title.
He handed it to Vasquez.
The deputy read the name aloud.
“Caleb James Mercer.”
Elena’s knees nearly gave out.
Mercer.
Her mother’s maiden name.
She looked at Mace.
“Who was Caleb Mercer?”
No one answered immediately.
That frightened her more than if they had.
Finally Mace said:
“Your father.”
The desert seemed to tilt beneath Elena.
“No.”
“Elena—”
“My father died before I was born.”
“He did.”
“My mother said his name was David Jenkins.”
Mace’s eyes softened.
“Your mother lied.”
Elena backed away.
“No.”
Rick suddenly shouted.
“They’re lying to you! These people are criminals!”
Mace looked toward him.
“Funny thing about criminals, Rick.”
His voice was quiet.
“We tend to remember the men who steal from dead friends.”
Rick went pale.
Deputy Vasquez looked between them.
“What exactly is happening?”
Mace pointed at the motorcycle.
“That bike disappeared nineteen years ago.”
Elena shook her head.
“Gabriel said it had been sitting twelve years.”
“It had.”
“Where was it before that?”
Mace looked at Rick.
“That’s what we’ve been wondering for nineteen years.”
They moved everyone inside the diner.
Rick sat at one table under Deputy Vasquez’s watch.
Elena sat at another while Doc wrapped her ribs.
Nothing appeared broken, though Doc insisted Elena needed X-rays.
Outside, the Iron Saints inspected the Harley.
Mace sat across from Elena.
For a long moment neither spoke.
Finally Elena said:
“Tell me.”
Mace folded his hands.
“Caleb Mercer joined the Iron Saints when he was twenty-two. Back then we weren’t what people imagined when they saw the leather. Most of us were veterans. Mechanics. Welders. Truck drivers.”
“My father was a biker?”
Mace smiled.
“He was a terrible biker.”
Despite everything, Elena blinked.
“What?”
“Couldn’t ride in formation to save his life. Always wandered left. Once crashed into a mailbox because he was staring at a girl.”
Elena almost smiled.
Almost.
“Was the girl my mother?”
“Yep.”
Mace looked toward the window.
“Marisol Mercer.”
Elena stared at him.
“My mother was Marisol Dawson.”
“Eventually.”
Something cold moved through Elena.
Mace continued.
“Caleb and Marisol married quietly. She got pregnant with you. Caleb owned a custom machine shop with Gabriel Stone.”
“Gabriel knew him?”
Mace looked surprised.
“Elena, Gabriel was his older brother.”
Silence.
The world shifted again.
Gabriel Stone.
The grumpy old mechanic who had sat quietly in the diner for years.
Her uncle.
“He never told me.”
“He promised your mother he wouldn’t.”
“Why?”
“Because somebody wanted Caleb’s business.”
Rick shifted across the diner.
Mace lowered his voice.
“The machine shop had developed a suspension component for military vehicles. Nothing glamorous. But valuable. A company offered Caleb and Gabriel a lot of money.”
“How much?”
“Eventually? Millions.”
Elena glanced at Rick.
Mace nodded.
“Rick Dawson handled the company’s books.”
