"No."
"Have you?"
"Absolutely not."
Rick answered too quickly.
Daniel kept his expression neutral.
"Then you won't mind if we get someone to check those injuries."
Rick's face darkened.
"Someone?"
"A doctor. Maybe a social worker. Someone who can make sure he's safe."
The word social worker seemed to strike a nerve.
Rick's eyes flicked toward the door.
Then he looked back at Daniel.
"You really want to get involved in this?"
Daniel said nothing.
Rick stepped close enough that the smell of cigarettes became stronger.
"Here's what's going to happen. You're going to move out of my way. I'm going to take Lucas home, and you're going to forget you ever saw him."
Daniel looked down at the man's hands.
His right knuckles were scraped.
There was a fresh cut near the base of his thumb.
The kind of injuries someone might receive from hitting a hard surface.
Or a person.
"Is that a threat?" Daniel asked.
Rick smiled.
"It's advice."
"Bad advice."
Rick's smile disappeared.
For a moment, Daniel thought the man might swing at him.
Instead, Rick looked past Daniel toward Lucas.
"You tell him what happens when you make trouble."
Lucas shook his head.
"Tell him."
The boy's breathing grew rapid.
"Rick, please—"
"Tell him!"
Lucas squeezed his eyes shut.
"Stop."
Rick took another step.
Daniel moved into his path.
"That's enough."
The garage fell silent.
Rain tapped against the metal roof.
Somewhere near the rear workbench, a clock ticked.
Rick stared at Daniel with open hatred.
Then he did something unexpected.
He laughed.
Not loudly. Not naturally.
It was the laugh of a man who had decided that a situation could no longer be controlled through ordinary intimidation and was searching for another method.
"You know what?" Rick said. "Maybe you should hear the whole story."
He turned toward the motorcycle on the lift.
"That boy's father was a deadbeat. Left him with nothing. Left his mother drowning in bills. I'm the one who's been paying for food, electricity, and medical expenses. I'm the one who's been keeping a roof over their heads."
Daniel watched him.
"And now you're the villain because you want to sell an old motorcycle?"
"Exactly."
"How much is it worth?"
Rick blinked.
"What?"
"The motorcycle. How much do you expect to get for it?"
"That's none of your business."
"Then stop telling me it's about money."
Rick's face reddened.
"You have no idea what I've done for that family."
"Maybe I don't."
Daniel paused.
"But I know what fear looks like."
Rick said nothing.
Daniel continued.
"And I know what it looks like when a child has learned to lie about injuries because he's afraid of what will happen if he tells the truth."
Rick's expression became dangerous.
"You should watch your mouth."
Daniel nodded slowly.
"That's what I was going to tell you."
For several seconds, Rick stood motionless.
Then he stepped backward.
"Fine."
He pointed at Lucas.
"You want to stay here? Stay. But don't come crying to me when you realize what you've done."
Lucas's eyes widened.
Rick continued.
"Your mother needs help. You think this man is going to pay for her treatment? You think a mechanic with a dirty garage can solve all your problems?"
Lucas looked at Daniel.
Daniel did not answer for him.
Rick smiled.
"That's what I thought."
He turned toward the door.
Before leaving, he looked back over his shoulder.
"One more thing, Mercer. You have no idea what you're getting yourself into."
Then he walked out.
The door slammed behind him.
Lucas remained frozen in place.
Daniel watched through the window as Rick climbed into the pickup truck. The engine roared to life, and the truck pulled away from the curb, disappearing down the wet road.
Only when it was gone did Lucas seem able to breathe again.
He sank into the nearest chair and pressed both hands against his face.
Daniel waited.
He did not tell the boy that everything was fine.
He did not promise that Rick would never return.
He had no way of knowing either thing.
Instead, he pulled another chair across the floor and sat beside him.
"Lucas."
The boy shook his head.
"I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For causing trouble."
Daniel looked at him.
"You didn't cause this trouble."
"But he was angry."
"He was angry before he came in here."
Lucas lowered his hands.
"He'll come back."
"Probably."
The boy stared at him in alarm.
Daniel continued before fear could take hold.
"But next time, we won't have to guess what to do."
Lucas swallowed.
"What will we do?"
"First, we're going to make sure you're safe. Then we're going to find out what's happening with your mother. And after that, we'll figure out the motorcycle."
Lucas stared at him.
"You'd really do that?"
Daniel nodded.
"Yes."
"Why?"
The question was so simple that it hurt.
Daniel glanced at the photograph still resting on the table.
"Because I knew your father."
Lucas went completely still.
"You knew Dad?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"We rode together. A long time ago."
Lucas stared at him as though he had just heard that his father had returned from the dead.
"He never told me about you."
Daniel looked down.
"Maybe he didn't have the chance."
"Did you like him?"
Daniel let out a slow breath.
"He was the best friend I ever had."
Lucas's face crumpled.
For the first time, tears filled his eyes.
"My dad told me he had a friend who could fix anything."
Daniel felt his throat tighten.
"He was probably talking about someone else."
Lucas shook his head.
"No. He said his friend could fix motorcycles that nobody else could fix. He said he could hear an engine once and know what was wrong with it."
Daniel smiled sadly.
"Your father exaggerated."
"He said his friend was named Daniel."
The smile disappeared from Daniel's face.
He turned toward the workbench, suddenly unable to look at the boy.
For seventeen years, he had believed Michael Hayes had chosen to disappear from his life.
He had believed their friendship had ended in anger, silence, and betrayal.
Now Michael's son was sitting in his garage, wearing a bruised face and carrying the last fragments of a family that was falling apart.
Daniel felt the weight of all the things he had never said to his old friend.
All the apologies he had never made.
All the questions he had never answered.
He looked back at Lucas.
"Your dad was right about one thing."
"What?"
Daniel reached for the photograph and handed it back to him.
"I can fix motorcycles."
Lucas held the picture against his chest.
"Can you fix ours?"
Daniel looked toward the open garage door, beyond which the rain had begun to ease.
"Yes," he said. "I think I can."
Then he paused.
"But Lucas, there's something else you need to understand."
The boy looked up.
"Your father's motorcycle might be the reason you came here. But it's not the most important thing we're going to deal with."
"What is?"
Daniel looked directly at him.
"You."
Lucas stared at him for a long moment.
Then he whispered the question that had been haunting him since he left home.
"What if nobody believes me?"
Daniel did not answer immediately.
He thought of his old club. Of Michael. Of the years he had spent convincing himself that staying out of trouble was the same thing as doing the right thing.
Finally, he placed a hand on the table.
"Then we'll find someone who will."
Outside, the clouds began to break apart.
A narrow strip of sunlight slipped through the garage windows, illuminating the black motorcycle on the lift.
Daniel looked at the machine.
Then he looked at the boy.
Somewhere beneath the fear and exhaustion, Lucas was still holding on to the memory of a father who had promised to teach him how to ride.
Daniel could not bring Michael back.
He could not erase the boy's injuries or undo whatever had happened in that house.
But he could do something.
And for the first time in years, Daniel Mercer was willing to discover how much one man could do when he finally stopped looking away.
Daniel barely slept that night.
After Rick Dalton drove away, he had allowed Lucas to stay in the small office behind Iron Horse Garage while he made a few phone calls. He contacted an old friend who knew how to navigate the local child-protection system and asked for guidance on how to proceed without putting the boy at greater risk. He also arranged for Lucas to receive a medical examination from a qualified professional.