Jace didn't just look at the puddle; he looked up at the source. Following the chrome lines down the front fork, his eyes locked onto the thick, black rubber of the brake line.
It wasn’t leaking from a loose fitting. It had been sliced.
The cut was clean, surgical, right through the braided steel and rubber housing. A razor blade or a heavy wire cutter had done the job. Someone inside this brotherhood had just tried to send one of their own into the dark. And the man who was seconds away from riding straight into it didn’t even know it yet.
A heavy boot crunched on the gravel.
Rhett was walking toward the bike, pulling a heavy leather glove over his massive knuckles. He didn’t look down. He was looking at the gray sky, his jaw set, his mind already miles down the road.
"Hey, kid," Rhett rumbled, his voice like rocks in a cement mixer. "Clear out. Engine runs hot."
Jace didn’t move. His heart was hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.
Rhett threw a leg over the saddle. He reached for the ignition switch.
"Don't!" Jace's voice cracked, loud and desperate in the freezing air.
Rhett froze, his hand hovering over the tank. He looked down at the boy, his brow furrowing into a deep V. "What did you say?"
Jace pointed a trembling finger at the front wheel. "It’s bleeding."
Before Rhett could process the cryptic warning, the heavy metal door of the clubhouse swung open. Cal stepped out, his instincts already flaring at the sound of his son shouting—a sound he hadn't heard in years.
"Jace?" Cal closed the distance in three long strides, putting himself between his son and the enforcer. "What is it?"
"Look," Jace whispered, backing away.
Cal knelt where his son had been. His eyes tracked the green puddle, then moved up to the sliced line. The creek-water gray of his eyes darkened. He reached out, running a bare, scarred thumb over the surgical cut.
When Cal stood up, the air in the parking lot seemed to drop another ten degrees. He looked at Rhett.
"Don't start the bike, Rhett," Cal said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "Your front brake line is gone. Sliced clean."