Isaac shut out the world and set to work rebuilding the carburetor in methodical detail. He was fully
aware some of the work he put into his craft was overkill. Not every part needed to be pristine. Not every step needed to be triple-checked. But his education and experience wouldn’t allow him to do it any other way. Isaac was grateful for those OCD tendencies because they had created a base of loyal customers who swore by his work, paid whatever he asked, and sent more customers his way.
Lights flashed over the dogwood and willow trunks outside. The familiar rumble of Harley V-twins shook the night. Isaac wiped his hand before using the remote to turn the music down. Three Harleys eased to a stop in front of the doors, and Isaac was damn glad he’d chosen tonight to work on the Suzuki. All three men wore biker boots, jeans, and leather vests decorated with the club’s patches.
He waited for their engines to shut down before greeting the Steel Warriors’ road captain, a man Isaac knew only as Repo.
“Hey, man.” Isaac stood, wiping his hands on the rag before he met Repo in the middle of the shop and offered a handshake.
“Wrench,” Repo said in greeting, using one of the many nicknames members had for Isaac. “That Ox’s piece of shit?”
“Yes, sir. She’s getting a new carburetor.”
A sound of disgust rolled in Repo’s throat. “Don’t know why he wastes his money on that foreign shit.”
Repo appeared to be in his late fifties, but Isaac guessed he was closer to a road-weary mid-forties. He wandered toward a Harley Isaac hadn’t gotten a chance to start rebuilding yet. “Who does this beauty belong to?”
“Me.”
“Gonna rebuild her? Or sell her like the other pieces of shit you’ve got lined up on your lot.”
“Every bike here has great potential. I only buy the cream of the repossessed crap. I’d rebuild them all if I could find time. But I’m definitely keeping this baby.”
“No secretary yet?” Repo asked.
Isaac sighed. “Good help is hard to find, you know?”
“Right.” He thought a moment. “My sister would be a good fit. Been riding since she was little. Used to work on bikes right alongside me. She’s got a great head for business, and she’s sweet as sugar. Your customers would love her.”
“She sounds perfect,” Isaac said, hopeful. “Think she’d want to come in and talk?”
“She’d love to.” A smile crept over Repo’s face. “But she’s doing five to ten for manslaughter.”
Isaac’s shoulders sagged, and he lowered his head on a groan, making all three bikers laugh. “Story of my fuckin’ life.”
Repo strolled toward Isaac’s future project and gripped the handle. “This one of those limited editions?”
“Anniversary XL50,” Isaac confirmed. “Only two thousand ever made.” She would be gorgeous when she was restored, but he had no idea when he’d find time to start that project. “How’s your hog runnin’?”
“Beautiful since you overhauled her. You’ve got magic hands, man.”
“Glad she’s taking care of you.”
“Came to ask if you’d go on a ride with us tonight,” Repo said with no preface. Isaac was already forming his rejection of the idea when Repo added, “One of our members just got back from Afghanistan. Lost a couple of buddies over there. He’s not doin’ so good, if you know what I mean.”
Isaac knew all too well what Repo meant, and a familiar knot tightened in his chest. “Your brotherhood will help.”
Repo nodded, went silent for a moment. The other two bikers sat quietly on their rides. “We thought you might be able to talk to him. Maybe settle his mind. Show him there’s life after losing a brother.”
Isaac shook his head, took a step back—automatic responses to prying his heart open to bleed over Jeremy. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ve got work stacked up for weeks round here—”
“I’ll tell Grim you were working on his ride when we pulled you away.” Repo tapped Isaac’s biceps with a friendly jab. “I’d consider it a personal favor.”
Which meant he’d also consider it a personal slight if Isaac refused. Which would, in turn, cut off half his bread-and-butter income—income from the club. His business might be booming today, but he knew too well how life could turn on a dime.
Isaac shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”
As soon as he’d agreed, a weight lifted from his shoulders. Shirking responsibility had never come easily to him, but if he were honest, this might be a good idea. Nothing but the feel of warm air on his skin as he toured the dark countryside among men who had his back. Next best thing to a night in bed with a warm, willing woman, which hadn’t happened in way too long. “I’ll just clean up. Be out in a few.”