The riders behind him did not cheer immediately.
Some bowed their heads.
Hank removed his sunglasses.
Bobby stared at the floor.
The engine settled into idle.
That sound was Dutch.
Every person who had ridden beside him knew it.
Jim allowed the motorcycle to run long enough to warm.
Rusty monitored everything.
Oil pressure.
Charging.
Temperature.
Nothing alarming.
Finally Jim shut it down.
The sudden silence rang in everyone's ears.
He sat on the bike for several seconds longer.
Then stepped off.
Rusty approached cautiously.
“Well?”
Jim ran a palm across the tank.
“She sounds like him.”
Rusty nodded.
“I remember.”
Jim took out an envelope.
Thick.
He pushed it against Rusty's chest.
Rusty frowned.
“You said forget the money.”
“I say a lot of things.”
Rusty opened the envelope slightly.
“Jim.”
“Five I owed you. Two extra for the nightmare.”
Rusty shook his head.
“I can't take the extra.”
“You had four grown mechanics let an eight-year-old tell them what to do for two days. That's worth something.”
“We did the labor.”
Jim looked toward Leo.
“Did you solve it?”
Rusty did not hesitate.
“No.”
Jim nodded.
Rusty continued.
“He did.”
Leo immediately shook his head.
“Dad did.”
Everyone turned.
Leo looked at the motorcycle.
“He knew all of it. I just remembered.”
Jim walked toward him.
Then lowered himself onto one knee.
This time, he did not look intimidating.
Only tired.
“Leo.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Your father was one of the finest mechanics Dutch ever trusted.”
Leo listened.
“I thought when Arty died, all the things he knew died too.”
Jim looked toward the FXR.
“I was wrong.”
Leo's eyes grew wet.
Jim reached inside his shirt and pulled free a silver chain he had worn for years.
A small old medallion hung from it.
Not a club patch.
Not membership.
Nothing Leo could mistake for something he had earned inside a motorcycle organization.
It was simply a personal token Jim had carried.
A winged skull worked into the silver.
“Dutch gave this to me a long time ago.”
Leo immediately shook his head.
“I can't take that.”
“Yes, you can.”
“It's yours.”
“It was.”
Jim held it in his palm.
“Now it's a thank-you.”
Leo looked at Rusty.
Rusty shrugged.
“Don't ask me. Apparently you're management.”
Jim smiled.
He placed the chain around Leo's neck.
The medallion hung absurdly low against the oversized shirt.
Leo touched it.
“Thank you.”
Jim's expression turned serious.
“You and your mother need something, you call Rusty.”
Rusty blinked.
“I just became your answering service?”
“Yes.”
Jim continued.
“And Rusty calls me.”
Leo looked uncertain.
“Why?”
“Because Arty was family to Dutch.”
Jim paused.
“And because you brought something back that mattered to a lot of people.”
Leo looked toward the motorcycle.
“I just wanted to fix it.”