Chapter 2

Mr. Big n' Surly

Singing along to Metallica's Unforgiven , Haven carefully fit the rotors on the wheel studs and replaced the caliper mounting brackets. It was easy to get lost in the feel of metal beneath his fingertips, which was why the sudden intrusion of raised voices drowning out his music was so jarring.

"Look, Mr. Balfour, I get that you've contracted with the dispensary, but that doesn't give you the right to just barge into the auto shop any time you please."

River sounded frustrated, which was a rare thing for his brother who was the most laid-back, chill person Haven had ever known. Glancing up, he caught sight of his brother's bright pink hair as he stood in the doorway, a large man with a piercing scowl glowering over his head as he glared in Haven's direction. Haven didn't know him, which wasn't surprising with how long he'd been away. Foggy Basin had more than one new resident since he'd been sent off to juvie. Sometimes River and Jeremy had told him about some of the more interesting ones when they'd come to see him. Several of the people he'd known and once spent time with had relocated. Maybe it was a good thing. He doubted they'd want anything to do with him after his incarceration.

"I wouldn't have to barge if you'd just let me back here to talk to your brother like I asked," the scowling man said, meeting Haven's eyes for a moment before Haven quickly looked away.

They really needed to hire an office manager so they could open the front of the shop properly and have someone in the office to deal with shit like this. For now, River looked to be doing his best, not that big, grumpy and persistent was eager to take the hint.

"Like I was trying to explain earlier, he doesn't deal with the customers, I do," River insisted. "So, if you'll just come back up front with me and explain the problem, we can get the repair order filled out and you'll be good to go."

"That doesn't work for me."

"I don't know what to tell you, then," River said. "'cause that's the way it works in this shop."

Unforgiven ended and Monster You Made came on, only Haven couldn't lose himself in it or the repairs he was doing, when there was a standoff going on inside the doorway. He could practically feel the large man's eyes staring holes through him. The sound of a cosmic ray gun announced the presence of someone at the counter in the dispensary, leaving Haven no choice but to stand, square his shoulders, and go deal with the man whether he wanted to or not.

"It's alright Riv, I'll talk to him," Haven said, meeting his brother's eyes and trying to smile when River turned a skeptical look at him.

"You sure?" River asked, still hesitant, even when the ray gun sounded again.

"Yeah, it's all good."

Reluctantly, River nodded and moved out of the way, hurrying to see to his customer while Haven struggled to keep from squirming beneath the scrutiny of the big man's piercing emerald gaze.

Stand tall, don't show weakness or fear.

The mantra had been driven into his head, both in the juvenile and adult facilities he'd been incarcerated in, but it had always proven to be a struggle for him, especially when making eye contact with the wrong person could be misinterpreted as a challenge. There had been so many rules to prison life, more than he'd even imagined, and if not for a friend of a friend's father who'd taken him under his wing and protected him when he'd been sent to the adult prison, he'd likely have fallen prey to one of the convicts.

This guy looked like he'd done some time himself and all Haven could think about was that he couldn't afford to fuck up the job his siblings had created for him.

"Was all of that really necessary?" The man snapped the moment River disappeared, his tone so sharp and cold it led to Haven taking a step back before he was able to remind himself that retreating could be construed as weakness too.

"Sorry," he muttered. "But I'm the only one back here and distractions mean shit doesn't get done in the time people want it to."

The guy paused, sucked in a breath, then let it out slowly, those rigid shoulders relaxing a little, though that didn't change the fierceness of his scowl. "I can appreciate that, but like I told your brother, these are special circumstances. My '67 Electra Glide is in pieces in the back of a pickup truck and that's not a machine to be turned over to just anyone."

"Whoa," Haven breathed, needing a moment to process what he'd heard.

Electra Glides were iconic bikes, especially the ones from that era. He could easily forgive the commotion the man had caused after hearing that.

"That's a lot of bike," Haven said. "What happened?"

"Hit and run on Main Street. Bastard smashed her up and roared away."

Cringing, Haven could imagine how pissed the guy had to be. Wiping his hands off on the rag he'd tucked into his pocket, he moved around to the rolling bay doors and hit the button to raise them.

"Bring the truck around back and I'll take a look," Haven said. "If it's out of my league, I'll straight up tell you and help you figure out where to take it. I don't mess with things I don't have the ability to fix."

One eyebrow shot up as big and surly's expression softened a little.

"Fair enough," the man said. "I appreciate that. I'm Maddox, by the way."

"Haven."

"Be right back."

Nodding, Haven moved off to the side of the door and waited until the big silver pickup that was carrying the bike backed into the empty bay that a late model Ford F350 had occupied just a few hours before. The moment it stopped, Haven peered over the back and hissed at the sight he encountered. When Maddox stepped up beside him, fury still radiated off him as they stared down at the damaged bike.

"Forks look twisted," Haven muttered, moving slowly around the back of the truck to take in more of the wreckage. "Seat can be saved but not the mounting apparatus. That's junk. Have you stood her up to get a look at the frame?"

"No, it took four of us just to lift her in there and my back is feeling ever bit of the effort right now."

"Let me get a ramp and we can get her down," Haven offered, catching a glimpse of another guy behind the wheel. "We might need your buddy's help though."

"We'll be fine without it."

"If you say so."

"I do."

Haven let it go at that, despite what the guy had said about his back. As long as the Harley rolled, they should have an easy time of it, but with as bent as the rear wheel looked, he wasn't confident in Maddox's assessment. Fortunately, he had an adjustable metal ramp that was easily wheeled into position and locked down so it couldn't roll anywhere while they worked to get the bike down. Once the two of them were in the back of the truck with the bike upright between them, it quickly became apparent that they'd need that third person to help guide it down, especially with how difficult it was to wheel backwards with that rear tire as fucked up as it was. Maddox snarled something beneath his breath, then rolled his eyes to the heavens before barking at the guy sitting behind the wheel.

"Get the hell out here. We need your help."

"You said…" the man began, and Haven froze, because even after all these years, his older brother's voice was as distinctive as ever.

"Fuck what I said and come help so we can figure out how bad things are," Maddox said, cutting him off.

All Haven could do was stand there holding up the bike as the door opened and his brother emerged. Archer looked a little older and his hair was a hell of a lot shorter than the last time Haven had seen him, but the thing that had changed the most was his eyes. He couldn't meet Haven's any more than Haven could meet his, only Haven caught a glimpse of regret in Archer's before they both looked away. That was something he'd never expected to see.

"Hey, little brother," Archer said, his tone soft, nothing like the angry, slurred voice that had browbeaten him into making the worst decision of his life.

Blinking, Haven didn't know what to say, or do, as Archer walked up the ramp and joined them in the back of the truck. With his hands on the ass end, guiding the broken Harley down the ramp, they were finally able to get it on the ground, but the kickstand was too mangled to hold it up, so Haven guided them to the hydraulic motorcycle lift where they could lock it in place and not have to worry about it tipping over.

"Damn," Maddox breathed as he finally got a good look at the machine.

Haven crouched behind it, looking down the line of the bike, eyeballing the frame. "I'm not seeing any warping, but this rear wheel will need replacing, and the baffling is fucked. Footplate too."

As he walked around to the front, he saw where the front fender and headlight had been ripped off and he cocked his head to get a better look at the twisted forks.

"How fast was the fucker driving?" Haven muttered to himself as he studied the mess.

"Fast enough to keep up with his guardian angels, which is the only thing that saved him from me," Maddox growled.

It looked like he had more to say, only he clamped his mouth shut and turned his attention back to glaring at the bike. As long as Haven could focus on the wreckage the man had brought in, he didn't have to think about his brother or any of the things he wanted to say to him.

Now wasn't the time or place.

Never air your dirty laundry in public, especially when it involves family.

He could recall their father's voice as clear as day, warning them of their behavior after a public spat between Meadow and Archer had unfolded in front of half the town.

He'd have given anything for his Pops to be there beside him going over the bike the way he'd done when he'd been teaching Haven the ins and outs of maintenance, but that was something else he'd lost while he'd been locked in a fuckin' cell. Not being able to attend the funeral after his folks had been killed in a highway collision had been one of the worst parts of being in jail, and there had been many. Now he just reminded himself to breathe when the press of tears stung his eyes, emotions so raw and strung out right now that the slightest thing might set him off. Archer seemed to sense it too, as he slunk away from them and scurried into the dispensary like the hounds of hell were after him.

"Getting original parts is gonna take effort, luck, and some extraordinary leads." Haven told him. "It's not going be a quick, or easy restore."

"Yeah, I'd already figured that out for myself," Maddox grumbled before running his fingers through hair that had mostly come loose from its ponytail.

Long, and as black as a crow's wing, it easily reached his waist. Several thin streaks of gray made it seem like lightning bolts were racing through the strands, and it looked as well kept as the rest of him. Their eyes met for a second and once more Haven glanced away, wondering how the hell he knew Archer and what the fuck River had meant earlier when he'd spoken about the man being in partnership with the dispensary. There were instant warning bells going off in his head, his inner voice screaming at him to tell the man he couldn't fix it and send him and Archer on their way. The only problem with that approach was that he felt immediate unease at the thought of lying to Maddox, so instead he squirmed and chewed on his bottom lip, stuck searching for an answer that would extract him from the situation. The last thing he wanted was to have anything to do with anyone his brother knew. No way in hell was he going down that road again. Not with what had happened the last time.

"Can you fix it is the question I still haven't heard the answer to," Maddox said.

Swallowing hard, Haven met his gaze fully for the first time and was struck by the misery he saw reflected among the cool green tones. The bike was clearly special to him, and it was obvious that it had been well cared for and well maintained before the incident that had damaged it. Opening his mouth, Haven tried to squeak out a reluctant no , only his lips decided it was a good time to stage a revolt and uttered a confident, Yes, sir .

"Alright then," Maddox said as he appraised Haven, raking his gaze up and down his body until Haven ducked his head and let his hair fall forward to half-shield his face. "That's all that matters to me."

Nodding, Haven took the time to study the machine longer, making a mental note of the fluid that dripped from the brake line and the way the back end looked to be crooked.

"Let's try to fire her up and see what happens," Haven offered. "I'll go over every inch of her regardless, but at least it will give me an idea of how much of the damage is internal. I can tell that the exterior is going to need a lot of work. I may have to strip the whole thing down to the bare frame just to make sure the chassis isn't twisted in any way."

"Do whatever you need to do."

"I will."

Nodding, Maddox tried the electric starter several times, while Haven observed, thankful that the machine wasn't the kickstart variety as in its current condition, that would have been next to impossible to properly evaluate. Unfortunately, all the old girl did was crackle, sputter and grind miserably, prompting a slew of grumbled profanity and some attempts at pleas and coercion from its upset owner, who was finally forced to concede defeat.

"That answers that," Maddox growled once he'd finally quit trying.

"Yeah, it does," Haven said as he ran his fingers through his hair. "I won't know what all is messed up until I can get into her, which won't be until after I finish the break job I was in the middle of. I'll get started on her as soon as that's finished. I can give you an update at the end of the day on what I've discovered, and we can go from there."

"What time do you close for the night?"

"Officially, six, but I tend to stick around longer when I've got something to work on," Haven admitted, while his inner voice continued to scream shut up, shut up, shut up.

Those lips of his though, they couldn't seem to get with the program. "If you want to stop back by…" Haven said before he could stop himself.

"I'll be here," Maddox interrupted, his words and the heavy sigh that punctuated them, sealing Haven's fate.

Yeah, Haven had figured that would be his answer. The surly bastard would probably be early too and still grumbling every syllable he spoke. He'd made the offer though, so he had little choice but to accept that, once again, there was nothing he could do about the situation he'd found himself in.