That's when the police cruiser rolled by. Slow, deliberate. The officer inside didn't look at the street or the traffic. He looked at them, at Loretta and the biker. His eyes lingered like a threat.

Loretta's spine went rigid. Old memories surfaced, the kind she'd spent years trying to bury. The biker noticed the cruiser, too. His jaw tightened. He glanced at Loretta, then at the slowmoving police car, then back at her.

Something passed between them in that moment. An understanding. He nodded once. Silent gratitude mixed with something heavier, something unspoken, and pushed himself to his feet. He gripped the handlebars of his motorcycle and began walking it down the road, limping slightly, the $5 bill clutched tight in his other hand.