CHAPTER 2 — THE INITIALS R.M.
The biker kept staring at the black tape.
“R.M.”
The boy waited.
Nobody in the garage moved.
Finally, the bald biker stood.
“My name is Marcus Kane.”
The boy looked confused.
“What does that have to do with the initials?”
Marcus pointed at the tape.
“R.M. belonged to Ryan Mercer.”
One of the older bikers near the workbench lowered his eyes.
The boy noticed.
“Who was he?”
Marcus answered quietly.
“My best friend.”
The boy looked back at the damaged wire.
“You said he died.”
“Twelve years ago.”
“How?”
Marcus hesitated.
“Motorcycle accident.”
The boy frowned.
“With a cut wire?”
Marcus’s expression changed.
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
The teenager stood.
“You’re lying.”
Every biker in the garage turned toward him.
Marcus stepped closer.
“Watch yourself, kid.”
The boy didn’t back away.
“My name is Lucas Bennett.”
Marcus froze.
The older biker by the workbench looked up sharply.
“Bennett?”
Lucas nodded.
Marcus studied his face.
Then his eyes dropped to the backpack hanging from Lucas’s shoulder.
“Who’s your father?”
Lucas’s jaw tightened.
“Daniel Bennett.”
The older biker whispered,
“Oh, hell.”
Marcus turned toward him.
“Cole?”
The man immediately looked away.
Lucas caught it.
“You know my dad too?”
Nobody answered.
Lucas stepped toward them.
“My father disappeared three years ago.”
Marcus’s face hardened.
“I heard he left town.”
“That’s what everyone says.”
Lucas shook his head.
“He didn’t.”
Marcus folded his arms.
“How do you know?”
Lucas reached into his backpack.
He pulled out a sealed plastic bag.
Inside was a greasy notebook page.
Lucas unfolded it carefully.
Across the top were several names.
Ryan Mercer.
Marcus Kane.
Daniel Bennett.
And underneath them—
GARAGE 17.
Marcus stopped breathing.
“Where did you get that?”
“My father hid it behind our water heater.”
Cole stepped closer.
“That page should not exist.”
Lucas stared at him.
“Why?”
Cole realized what he had said.
Too late.
Marcus turned.
“What do you mean, should not exist?”
Cole rubbed his face.
“Marcus…”
“No.”
Marcus pointed at the motorcycle.
“Someone cut my wiring and marked it with Ryan’s initials.”
Then he pointed at Lucas.
“This kid walks in with Daniel Bennett’s notes.”
His voice grew colder.
“You’re going to tell me what you know.”
Cole remained silent.
Marcus stepped closer.
“Now.”
Cole finally sighed.
“Ryan didn’t die because of an accident.”
The garage went completely still.
Marcus stared at him.
“What did you say?”
Cole looked toward the floor.
“Ryan found something.”
“What?”
“A shipment record.”
Lucas moved closer.
“What kind of shipment?”
Cole looked at Marcus.
“Motorcycles that didn’t exist.”
Marcus frowned.
“That makes no sense.”
“They existed physically.”
Cole swallowed.
“Just not on paper.”
Marcus slowly understood.
“Stolen bikes.”
Cole nodded.
“Frames were being stripped, VINs replaced, insurance claims filed.”
Lucas looked at the motorcycle.
“And Ryan found out?”
“Yes.”
Marcus’s voice dropped.
“Who was running it?”
Cole didn’t answer.
Marcus grabbed the front of his vest.
“Who?”
Cole finally said,
“Someone inside the club.”
Silence.
Marcus released him.
Every biker looked at the others.
Lucas glanced around the garage.
Suddenly, the room didn’t feel safe anymore.
Marcus asked,
“Did Ryan tell you who?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know?”
Cole looked at Lucas.
“Daniel told me.”
Lucas’s face changed.
“My father?”
Cole nodded.
“Your dad and Ryan were working together.”
Lucas stepped forward.
“That’s impossible.”
“No.”
Cole shook his head.
“Daniel was helping Ryan trace the bikes.”
Lucas stared at him.
“Then why did Dad disappear?”
Cole didn’t answer.
Marcus already knew.
“Because he found the same person Ryan did.”
Cole closed his eyes.
Lucas’s voice shook.
“Is my father dead?”
Nobody spoke.
Lucas slammed his hand against the workbench.
“Is he dead?”
Marcus grabbed his shoulder.
“Easy.”
Lucas pulled away.
“Don’t tell me easy.”
His eyes were wet now.
“I’ve spent three years wondering if my dad abandoned us.”
Marcus looked at Cole.
“Tell him.”
Cole whispered,
“I don’t know.”
Lucas stared.
“What does that mean?”
“Daniel disappeared before I could meet him.”
“When?”
Cole hesitated.
“The night he called me.”
Marcus frowned.
“What did he say?”
Cole looked toward the black motorcycle.
“He said Ryan had been right.”
Marcus’s eyes narrowed.
“About what?”
Cole swallowed.
“That the accidents were being manufactured.”
Lucas looked toward the cut wire.
Exactly like the one in front of them.
Marcus whispered,
“How many?”
Cole shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
Then Lucas noticed something.
The old notebook page.
He grabbed it.
“There’s more writing on the back.”
He flipped it over.
Three numbers were written in faded ink.
11.
14.
22.
Marcus stared.
“What are those?”
Lucas shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
One of the mechanics spoke from behind them.
“I do.”
Everyone turned.
A thin man named Wes stood near the parts shelf.
He looked terrified.
Marcus frowned.
“Speak.”
Wes pointed toward the motorcycles parked along the wall.
“Those are bay numbers.”
Marcus looked around.
Garage bays.
Bay 11.
Bay 14.
Bay 22.
But there was a problem.
Their garage only had twelve bays.
Marcus turned back.
“We don’t have a fourteen or twenty-two.”
Wes whispered,
“Not anymore.”
Marcus’s eyes narrowed.
“What do you mean?”
Wes looked toward the rear wall.
“This building used to be twice this size.”
Lucas looked confused.
Marcus remembered.
“Before the fire.”
Cole went pale.
Lucas looked at him.
“What fire?”
Marcus answered.
“Twelve years ago.”
The same year Ryan Mercer died.
Everyone fell silent.
Marcus walked toward the rear wall.
A storage cabinet covered most of it.
He looked at Cole.
“What was behind this?”
Cole didn’t answer.
Marcus shoved the cabinet aside.
Behind it was an old steel door.
Painted over.
Almost invisible.
Stamped near the bottom:
BAY 14.
Lucas stared.
“You said it didn’t exist.”
Marcus whispered,
“Not anymore.”
He pulled the door open.
A narrow corridor disappeared into darkness.
Dust covered everything.
Marcus grabbed a flashlight.
Lucas followed.
Cole immediately stepped in front of him.
“No.”
Lucas glared.
“You don’t get to stop me now.”
Marcus looked at Cole.
“Move.”
Cole stepped aside.
They entered.
The corridor smelled like oil and burned wood.
At the end was another room.
Inside were old motorcycle frames.
License plates.
Boxes of paperwork.
And one rusted locker.
Number 22.
Lucas’s breathing changed.
He walked toward it.
The lock was already broken.
Inside was a leather jacket.
Daniel Bennett’s name was stitched across the chest.
Lucas froze.
“That’s my dad’s.”
He pulled it out.
Something fell from the pocket.
A small cassette recorder.
Marcus picked it up.
The tape inside was labeled:
IF I DON’T COME BACK.
Lucas pressed play.
Static.
Then Daniel Bennett’s voice filled the room.
“Lucas, if you ever hear this…”
The boy stopped breathing.
His father continued.
“…I’m sorry.”
Lucas covered his mouth.
Daniel’s voice crackled.
“Ryan was killed because he discovered who was cutting the bikes.”
Marcus leaned closer.
Daniel continued.
“I found proof.”
A loud noise sounded in the recording.
Then Daniel whispered,
“The person doing it is still inside the garage.”
Everyone looked at each other.
Marcus’s jaw tightened.
Daniel kept talking.
“If Marcus is alive, tell him not to trust—”
The tape suddenly distorted.
Lucas hit the recorder.
“Come on.”
Daniel’s voice returned.
One final sentence.
“Don’t trust the man who survived the fire.”
The tape stopped.
Silence.
Lucas slowly looked at Marcus.
Then at Cole.
Then at Wes.
Marcus whispered,
“Only one man survived that fire.”
Everyone turned.
Cole’s face went white.
Before anyone could speak—
The garage lights went out.
A motorcycle engine roared from the main room.
Marcus ran back toward the corridor.
“Who started that bike?”
No answer.
Then came a violent metallic crash.
They rushed into the garage.
The black motorcycle was gone.
The bay door was open.
And taped to the floor was one new message.
Marcus picked it up.
Two words.
ASK COLE.
Marcus slowly turned.
Cole was gone.
