Chapter 5: The Honorary Captain
Rick gestured toward a sleek black motorcycle parked near the curb. A woman in a leather vest climbed off the pillion seat and strode forward, carrying a large, heavy wooden lockbox. She handed it to Rick with a respectful nod.
Mom let out a soft, sharp gasp. Dad stared at the box as if it were a bomb.
Rick flipped the metal latch and pushed the lid open. Inside, crammed to the very brim, were dozens upon dozens of thick, sealed envelopes.
Dad blinked, his brain clearly struggling to process the visual information. “Rick… what is this?”
Rick suddenly looked profoundly uncomfortable, shifting his weight from boot to boot. “We, uh… we passed the hat around the clubhouse.”
Dad continued to stare in stunned silence.
“Actually,” Rick amended, rubbing the back of his neck, “we passed the hat around to every chapter in the state.”
A few bikers chuckled. A voice from the back shouted, “Yeah, and Rick threatened to break legs if we didn’t empty our wallets!”
“Shut your mouth, Miller!” Rick shot back, though he was smiling. The tension broke, and the crowd laughed warmly.
Rick turned back to Dad, his expression turning deadly serious. “We aren’t blind, brother. We know these experimental treatments are bleeding you dry. We know you haven’t turned a wrench at the shop in weeks.” He took a step forward, extending the heavy box. “We know things are incredibly dark right now. And you don’t face the dark alone.”
