Chapter 32

Delia nods, curt. It’s hard to tell what she’s thinking by the set of her mouth, and she doesn’t look over at me as she says, “Dae—”

“I know.” I rise from my desk. “You two stay here.”

When I push through the swinging door into the main room, the few late evening customers we had, an older couple with their two teenaged kids, have already lined up at the register, eager to get out of here before the regulators file in.

Beyond the windows, I see the street in front of our place, the only light a circle of incandescence thrown by the floodlights above our door. It’s enough to illuminate the bank of chrome and steel angled against our curb. Not one bike, not eight, but easily a dozen or more. I’ve never seen so many. The men astride them are hard, their laughter like knives stabbing the quiet night. As I ring up the customers, more bikes approach, growling to a stop. How many of them arethere? Coby doesn’t have this many men.