Lucas walked toward the tool cart.
Dean continued:
“You want advice?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Dean smiled.
“I wasn't giving any.”
Lucas picked up a ten-millimeter wrench.
Then a small driver.
Grizz touched his shoulder lightly.
“Easy.”
Lucas looked up.
The huge biker’s face had softened.
“You don't owe him anything.”
Lucas answered:
“I know.”
Then smiled faintly.
“But Dad would've hated that money sitting there.”
Grizz laughed.
“Your dad hated gambling.”
“He hated losing more.”
“True.”
Lucas knelt beside the motorcycle.
Dean started his phone timer.
“Go.”
Lucas did not touch the diagnostic port.
Did not scan codes.
Did not test the battery.
Those things had been done.
He removed the small side cover.
Forty seconds.
He moved the harness gently.
Looked.
The inline connector appeared seated.
Lucas touched it.
It shifted.
Not much.
Enough.
He stopped.
Dean said:
“What?”
Lucas did not answer.
He pressed the connector inward.
Click.
A very small sound.
Ray Castillo, standing nearest, heard it.
His expression changed.
Lucas looked at him.
Ray looked at the connector.
Then at Dean.
Neither spoke.
Dean said:
“Three minutes forty.”
Lucas replaced nothing.
He stood.
Looked at Eddie.
“Try it.”
Dean laughed.
“That's your repair?”
Lucas wiped his fingers on a rag.
“Try it.”
Eddie walked over.
Key.
Ignition.
Fuel pump.
Starter.
The black cruiser exploded to life.
The sound filled the garage.
Deep exhaust.
Steady idle.
For one full second no one reacted.
Then Tommy shouted.
“No way!”
Curt laughed.
Someone slapped the workbench.
Eddie stared at the motorcycle like it had returned from the dead.
Dean stopped his timer.
Two minutes fourteen seconds.
His smile had disappeared.
Lucas stood beside the bike holding the wrench.
Grizz looked at him.
Not cheering.
Something deeper.
Pride mixed with memory.
Daniel should have seen it.
Lucas knew Grizz was thinking the same thing.
Eddie twisted the throttle lightly.
Perfect response.
Then shut the engine down.
He looked at Lucas.
“What did you do?”
“Connected something.”
Dean laughed sharply.
Everyone turned.
“A loose connector?”
Lucas nodded.
Dean threw both hands outward.
“That’s it?”
“That was enough.”
“You got lucky.”
Lucas looked at him.
“Maybe.”
Dean walked toward the motorcycle.
“Connectors don't unseat themselves sitting overnight.”
The room quieted.
Lucas stared.
Dean realized what he had said.
Too late.
Ray looked toward him.
“That’s true.”
Dean recovered.
“I'm saying the kid didn't diagnose anything.”