Instead, they saw a sixteen-year-old girl in a yellow apron wielding a rusty iron bar.
The initial shock on their faces quickly morphed into ugly, contemptuous smirks.
“Back inside, sweetheart,” the tattooed man sneered, stepping away from the motorcycle and toward her. “This ain’t your business. Go pour some coffee before you get hurt.”
“I said, back away!” Rebecca shouted, planting her feet.
Her whole body was shaking with adrenaline, but she didn’t step back. She positioned herself squarely between the men and the Harley.
“Do you have any idea whose bike this is? You touch this, you’re dead men.”
The second man, a strung-out-looking guy with greasy hair, let out a raspy laugh.
“It’s going to be our bike in about thirty seconds. Now move before I make you move.”
He lunged forward, trying to shove her out of the way to get to the handlebars.
Instinct took over.
Rebecca swung the tire iron in a short, brutal arc. The heavy iron connected solidly with the man’s forearm with a sickening crack.
He howled in pain, stumbling backward and clutching his arm.
“She broke my arm! The crazy little girl broke my arm!”
The tattooed man’s eyes went wide with sudden rage. The smugness vanished, replaced by the lethal, unpredictable violence of a cornered addict.
He reached into his baggy jacket and pulled out a switchblade.
With a metallic snick, a four-inch jagged blade locked into place. It glinted ominously in the buzzing neon light of the diner sign.
“You’re going to regret that, you stupid little girl,” he hissed, taking a slow, menacing step toward her.
Rebecca’s breath caught in her throat.
The reality of her foolish bravery crashed down on her.
She was only sixteen.
If she died in this filthy parking lot over a stranger’s motorcycle, who was going to take care of Leo?
The image of her little brother, sleeping soundly in the booth just thirty feet away, flashed brilliantly in her mind.
She raised the tire iron defensively, but her hands were trembling violently now.
The man lunged.
Rebecca swung blindly, but he was faster. He ducked under the iron bar and slashed out with the knife.