Page 5 of Accepting Fate

As soon as the words leave my mouth he says, "I found them.”

"Found who, Landon? Your job description is to find people,” I angrily spit out.

Damn for someone that doesn’t fuck around, he sure is dancing around the damn topic today.

Landon’s eyes narrow and it's like the ocean blues catch fire. Suddenly everything clicks and a shiver runs up my back when I finally clue into what he’s talking about. Or in this instance, not talking about.

I sit up and lean towards him, my voice shaking as I say, "You found the Carsons?”

Landon nods his head, "I’ll explain more when we get with Wes and Noah.” Pausing to scrub his hands down his face, I can’t tell if it’s exhaustion or defeat that has him so worked up.

Before I can ask, he continues, "Gray, I love my job but this one really made me question if I was capable of this work. Man-”

I cut him off, "Landon, you are kickass at your job. We wouldn’t be able to do this without you.”

Urgency fills his voice, “I fucking found them after months of dead ends and now we need to hurry up and get them before that fucker catches on that someone ratted his ass out.”

He’s right. This has been the longest we have had to wait for him to find someone. I understand his mood now and I’m ready to go help these two poor souls.

At that moment, Cass walks into the shop. I stand and gather my wallet and keys to my bike and meet her at the front desk.

I find her looking at the sketch of the flower in Alexa’s file. “I’m out,” I say to her. “Lock up when you’re done.”

She salutes without looking up from the sketch, “Got it, boss man.”

I meet Landon on the sidewalk next to our bikes. Landon’s is an all-black Harley. I look across the street to see Noah’s bike parked out front of the bar but I don’t see his Jeep so he must be off doing a supply run or some chick from last night.

Noah’s bike and mine are identical but different colors. I have a black and tan XRS Yamaha and Noah’s is white and tan.

Noah is a pain in my ass with his wild antics, but he has good taste in bikes, so I let his dumbass get away with a lot of shit.

“I’m going to grab my truck and I’ll meet you guys at The Hideout in about twenty minutes. Do they know?” I ask.

Landon looks up from his phone and waves it, “Just texted them. Told them to get their asses to The Hideout as soon as possible. Hurry up with the truck. I want to explain thoroughly before it's go time, so nothing gets fucked up. This is our only shot.”

I nod and swing my leg over my bike. The engine comes to life and my muscles instantly relax. As I drive down the road that cuts through the heart of Cliff Haven, I sometimes wish I could go back to being a kid. Growing up in this small town, even though there wasn't much to do, my brothers and I always found some way to get into trouble. We never did anything that would completely piss off the cops. Driving our dirt bikes down Main Street at midnight or putting bubbles in the school fountain was the extent of our trouble.

However, after too many times of us messing up the driveway and yard with our bikes, Mom had enough. There was a property down the road from our house that had been in the Hayes family for generations. Dad’s plan was to keep it as is. He said whoever got married and had kids first would get it. But things shifted when Noah accidentally ran over Mom's brand new rose bush. I still remember the day like it was yesterday.

I was fifteen and Mom came barreling into the house on a mission. Dad, Wes, and I were sitting at the table playing cards. She stopped right in front of Dad and waved her finger in his face.

“Conrad! Your sons have ruined my flowers for the last time. Do something now or every single one of you is going to pay.”

Mom didn’t yell or get angry. Anytime someone messed up, she addressed it and moved on quickly, but this time she meant business. Which is probably why Dad flew out of his seat like his ass was on fire and ran outside.

A few minutes later, he came in, Noah and Landon following him, and sat down across from her. “Sweetheart, I know we planned on the property being for the first wife and grandkid of the family, but how about we make it into the boys,” he held up both hands and made air quotes, “playground. We can put a building out there and they can ride their bikes. We make it their responsibility and if they destroy it, it's on them. What do you say, love?”

Mom looked at all of us boys and then back to Dad, “Sounds like a great idea. You can even make it like a clubhouse. Just make sure there are beds and bathrooms so it can double as a safe place to land for them later on.”

And so, The Hideout was born.

My dad’s family had opened up an autobody shop that specialized in classics and motorcycles. It was very successful and brought in enough income for Mom to stay home, which she didn't do, and for us boys to do anything we wanted. It became a tradition that each boy start working on their own bike and when we got our licenses, the bike was ours.

So, a few months later, The Hideout was built and became exactly what Mom wanted, a safe place to land. It also doubled as a garage to work on our bikes. Except now instead of it being used as a place to ride our dirt bikes or have parties, it’s used as a place to have meetings, fix our motorcycles, and store them in the winter months for those who don’t have a place to, and storage for whatever we need for jobs. Every month, we all get together for a cookout or just to have a beer or get in the hot tub when no one wants to go to Noah’s bar.

Mom was right about the beds though. While I was working construction, I didn’t want to pay for an apartment while I was saving for the shop, so The Hideout was my home for a few years. After the shop gained some credibility and business became consistent, I was able to purchase some land of my own and build my own hideaway in the woods.

Pulling into my driveway, I make quick work of changing from my shop attire of jeans, black t-shirt, jacket, and boots to something I can move easily in. I rummage through my drawers until I find a faded pair of loose jeans, a long sleeve shirt, a sweatshirt, and black running shoes. I sweep the hair off my forehead and tuck it back into a baseball hat.