"There," Mia yelled over the engine noise, pointing a small finger toward a two-story blue house at the end of the cul-de-sac.
Bear slowed his bike and brought the convoy to a rolling halt at the curb. The front lawn of the property was covered in fold-out tables and cardboard boxes. Hand-painted signs staked into the grass read: ESTATE SALE – EVERYTHING MUST GO TODAY.
A large commercial dumpster sat heavily in the driveway. A man with a patchy beard, wearing a tight polo shirt and expensive sunglasses, was tossing armfuls of clothing and framed photographs into the metal bin without even looking at them.
That had to be Carl.
Bear killed his engine and dropped the kickstand. The sudden silence that followed the engines shutting off was heavier than the noise had been.
Carl froze, a box of old records in his hands. He looked up, his face dropping in visible shock as seven large, leather-clad bikers dismounted at the edge of his property.
Bear helped Mia down from the bike. The moment her sneakers hit the pavement, Carl dropped the box of records. The vinyl shattered on the driveway.
"Mia!" Carl shouted, his voice shrill with sudden anger. He began marching down the driveway, completely ignoring the bikers. "Where the hell have you been? I told you to stay in the basement while I handled this! Get your little ass over here right now!"
He reached out to grab her, but he never even got close.
Prophet and Dex stepped smoothly in front of the little girl, crossing their arms over their broad chests. They didn’t say a word, but their sheer physical presence formed an impenetrable wall of denim, leather, and muscle.
Carl stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes darting between the towering bikers. He swallowed hard, trying to project a confidence he clearly didn't possess.
"Get off my property," Carl demanded, pointing a trembling finger toward the street. "I don't know who you freaks are, but you're trespassing. I'll call the cops right now."
Bear walked slowly around Prophet, closing the distance until he was standing just two feet away from Carl. Bear looked down at the man, examining his manicured hands and the nervous sweat forming on his forehead.
"You're Carl," Bear stated. It wasn't a question.