Page 87 of Fighting For You

"We've identified two of the bikes from the footage. Both are associated with individuals in our gang database." He opened the folder and glanced at his notes. "Mr. Sullivan, are you connected to anyone currently involved in gang-related criminal activity?"

Knox looked at me.

"I'm his girlfriend," I said. "My brother was arrested a few weeks ago in connection with a chop shop operation. Rudy's Auto Shop, off Boulder Highway. He's seventeen. He's at home right now on juvenile probation."

Thorne looked up from his folder. "What's your brother's name?"

"Ian Avery."

He wrote it down. "And the individuals arrested in that raid. Does your brother have ongoing contact with any of them?"

"No. There's a no-contact order. He hasn't spoken to anyone from that shop since the arrest."

Thorne nodded slowly. "So this could be retaliatory?"

I looked at Knox. Knox looked at me.

"We don't know," I said.

Thorne wrote something else in his notes, closed the folder, and stood up. "I'm going to look into the connection between the riders on that footage and the operation your brother was part of. If there's a link, we'll know soon." He pulled a card from his jacket pocket and set it on the bedside table. "If anything else happens, anything at all, you call me directly."

CHAPTER 21

The Message

KNOX

Nora pulled into the duplex and cut the engine. I opened the passenger door, put my right foot on the ground, and tested my weight before committing to the left. The ankle held, but barely. My hip seized when I stood up, a deep bruise that locked the joint if I moved too fast. I gripped the door frame and waited for it to pass.

She came around to my side of the car and slid under my good arm without asking. I let her take some of the weight. My left arm was wrapped in gauze from the elbow to the shoulder, the road rash underneath throbbing every time the fabric shifted. The wrist brace made my hand useless. I looked like I'd lost a fight with the pavement, which was more or less what happened.

The front door opened before we reached the steps. Ian stood in the doorway with the kitchen light behind him.

"What happened?" He was down the steps before Nora could answer, his eyes moving over the gauze, the brace, my weight against his sister's shoulder. "Are you okay? What happened to you?"

Nora and I looked at each other.

For a few seconds I debated telling him. But Nora had spent weeks getting Ian focused on school, on the conditions, on building something that looked like a normal life. Telling him this was a gang-related attack could push him straight toward the people he was court-ordered to stay away from.

"I had a motorcycle accident," I said.

"How?"

"Some bad drivers on the road. I had to lay the bike down to avoid a collision."

Ian looked at my arm. Looked at the brace. Looked at my face. "That's a lot of damage for avoiding a collision."

"I was going thirty when I went down. Pavement doesn't care how fast you're going." I eased myself up the first step with Nora still under my arm. "It looks worse than it is. Nothing's broken."

"And that's why neither of you should be riding motorcycles," Nora said. She looked at Ian. "Ever."

"I don't ride motorcycles."

"Good. Keep it that way."

Ian held the door open. I made it to the couch and lowered myself down, keeping my left side elevated per Harlan's discharge orders. Nora disappeared into the kitchen and came back with two ice packs, one for the wrist and one for the ankle. She positioned them without asking me where they should go.

Ian was still standing by the door.