The boy's expression suddenly hardened.

“You grabbed me.”

Robert went still.

“No, I didn't.”

“You grabbed my wrist.”

Robert looked at the small security camera mounted above the garage.

Then back at the boy.

A faint smile appeared.

“No.”

The young man's face changed.

Robert knew immediately.

This wasn't about a motorcycle anymore.

It was about what happened next.

Cheryl Maddox Arrives

“Evan!”

The voice came from across the street.

Robert looked up.

Cheryl Maddox was marching toward them.

She wore a bright pink blazer, white trousers, beige heels, and carried the black binder that seemed permanently attached to her identity as HOA president.

Her blonde hair was perfectly styled.

Her expression was not.

She rushed toward her son.

“What happened?”

Evan pointed at Robert.

“He grabbed me.”

Cheryl's face instantly transformed.

“You put your hands on my son?”

“No.”

“You touched him?”

“No.”

Evan repeated, louder this time.

“He grabbed my wrist.”

Robert remained calm.

“There are cameras.”

Cheryl stepped between them.

“You think cameras give you the right to attack a child?”

Robert stared at her.

“Your son is nineteen.”

“That is irrelevant.”

She pointed toward the Harley.

“My son was performing association business.”

Robert almost laughed.

“Association business?”

“Yes.”

“Your association business involved taking my keys and loading my motorcycle onto that truck?”

Cheryl's eyes narrowed.

A black pickup sat thirty yards away with its tailgate lowered.

A loading ramp leaned against it.

Robert pointed.

“That truck was waiting for the motorcycle.”

Cheryl crossed her arms.