Leo looked at the table and smiled. It was the first time a stranger had called him a good mechanic without following it with a joke.
The Phoenix property sat behind a broad metal gate on the edge of an industrial district. The clubhouse occupied one part of the building, and a separate repair shop stretched along the rear, lit by tall windows and industrial lamps. A row of motorcycles stood beneath an awning. Music came faintly from inside, along with laughter and the sound of someone moving dishes in a kitchen.
For Leo, the garage was the true wonder. He saw a row of clean workstations, a parts washer, orderly tool cabinets, tire equipment, and an engine stand beneath a bright overhead light. Nothing was perfect. There were scratches on the benches and oil marks on the floor, and a battered wall clock had stopped at the wrong time. But it was a working shop with a place for everything and people who seemed to know where those places were.
A woman in gray coveralls emerged from beneath the frame of a touring bike. Her dark hair was pulled back, and she carried a torque wrench with the easy familiarity of someone who did not have to look at it to know how it felt in her hand. She was Grace Moreno, the shop forewoman, and she looked Sully over before turning to Leo.
'You the mystery mechanic?' she asked.
'Leo,' he said.
'Good. You're not touching a customer bike tonight.'
Sully opened his mouth. Grace held up one finger. 'He's dehydrated, tired, and injured. He needs food, a shower, and sleep before he needs your approval.'
Sully closed his mouth again. Leo had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling.
Grace noticed anyway. 'You can laugh. I don't charge for it.'
She led him through a short hallway to a small room containing a narrow bed, a dresser, and a lamp. A clean towel lay on the blanket. There was a bathroom across the hall and a plate of food waiting in the kitchen. She told him the door locked from the inside, then demonstrated the latch so he could see it worked.
'Nobody comes in without knocking,' she said. 'You hear me?'
Leo nodded.
'You can leave it open if you like, or close it. Either way, the choice is yours.'
She stepped into the hallway, giving him space. Leo set his father's tin on the dresser and stared at the door. It took him a long moment to understand that the lock was meant to keep danger out rather than keep him in.
He showered until the water ran cold, then sat on the edge of the bed in borrowed clothes and ate part of the sandwich he had saved. The room smelled of clean laundry. Outside, a motorcycle passed in the street, its exhaust rumbling briefly through the night.
Leo flinched before he recognized that the sound no longer belonged only to pursuit. It could belong to someone arriving with parts, someone leaving after a meal, or someone who would stop at the gate if asked for help. His body had not yet learned the difference.