His right hand slowly lowered to his side.
The bald biker looked toward him.
“Cole?”
The gray-bearded man did not answer.
He walked to the Harley.
His steps were heavier now.
Slower.
He bent beneath the handlebar and lifted the bell between two fingers.
His hands trembled.
Sarah noticed that most.
A man built like that should not have had trembling hands.
He turned the brass charm over.
Rubbed his thumb across the bottom.
A layer of grime came away.
Two scratched letters appeared.
M.B.
Sarah covered her mouth.
Noah stepped forward.
“That’s it.”
Cole looked sharply at him.
“What?”
“My dad’s initials.”
Sarah stared at the bell.
No.
Coincidence.
It had to be.
Michael Bennett was not an unusual enough name for the world to fold in on itself inside a motorcycle garage.
She forced herself to breathe.
“You said you’ve had it six years.”
Cole nodded.
“My husband died six years ago.”
Cole’s jaw hardened.
“How?”
The question came so quickly that Sarah did not immediately answer.
“Motorcycle accident.”
Cole stared.
Then:
“Who told you that?”
Sarah frowned.
“What?”
“Who told you Michael died in a motorcycle accident?”
“My husband’s brother.”
Cole’s face changed again.
Not grief now.
Anger.
“What was his name?”
Sarah stepped closer to Noah.
“Why are you asking me that?”
“His name.”
The bald biker moved beside Cole.
“Cole.”
Sarah looked between them.
“Daniel Bennett.”
Cole muttered something under his breath.
Then gave one short laugh.
There was no humor in it.
“That lying son of a—”
“Watch your language.”
Cole looked toward Noah.
For one second, shame flickered across his face.
“Sorry.”
Then he looked back at Sarah.
“Michael didn’t die in a motorcycle accident.”
Sarah stared at him.
“Yes, he did.”
“No.”
“You didn’t even know him.”
Cole took one step closer.
“I knew him better than almost anybody.”
Sarah’s arms tightened around Noah.
Cole pulled open the front of his leather vest.
Near the inside chest seam was an old embroidered patch.
Smaller than the Iron Wolves insignia.
One word.
BENNETT.
Sarah stared.
Cole touched the patch.
“Michael was my brother.”
Sarah shook her head.
“Michael had one brother.”
“Daniel.”
“I know.”
“So don’t tell me—”
“Not blood.”
Cole looked toward the patch.
“Something closer than blood for a long time.”
The bald biker said quietly:
“They rode together.”
Cole nodded.
“For twelve years.”
Sarah’s breathing changed.
“No.”
“You knew my husband?”
Cole looked at Noah.
His eyes filled.
“He saved my life.”