"I help translate notices for some of the older tenants."
Marcus looked at Flash.
"Get the deed transfer."
Flash was already typing.
Elena stared.
"What exactly are you doing?"
Marcus sat across from her.
"Trying to figure out whether what happened to my motorcycle and what happened to your building are connected."
"That's insane."
"Probably."
"No, I mean..."
Elena glanced toward Sophie.
"Why would a development company care about us?"
Marcus looked through the diner window at his Harley.
"Because your daughter saw something."
The possibility settled over her.
"No."
Marcus did not soften it.
"If Anthony knows she saw him, and if somebody at Harmon knew you were with her..."
Elena stood abruptly.
"We need to leave."
Marcus nodded.
"Yes."
"I need to get Sophie home."
"No."
Elena stared.
Marcus clarified.
"Not until we know whether anyone's watching your place."
"I'm not going to a motorcycle clubhouse."
"I didn't ask you to."
"You were about to."
"I was going to offer my house."
She blinked.
"Your house?"
"Twenty minutes north."
Snake grinned.
Marcus glared at him.
"What?"
"Nothing."
Elena crossed her arms.
"You expect me to take my seven-year-old daughter to a stranger's house because someone might be watching our apartment?"
"No."
Marcus looked toward the deputy still in the parking lot.
"I expect you to let law enforcement check your apartment first."
That surprised her.
"You really are doing this legally."
Marcus's face stayed neutral.
"I've done enough things the other way."
He looked at Sophie.
"She deserves better."
By noon, police had confirmed the apartment building transfer had been in progress for several weeks, not initiated that morning.
That weakened the theory that the purchase itself was retaliation.
But something else emerged.
A leasing memorandum showed Harmon intended to vacate the building months earlier than previously scheduled.
The document had been amended at 9:26 that morning.
Less than an hour after Anthony left Rosy's Diner.
Thirty-day termination notices were accelerated that same morning.
Marcus did not believe in coincidences that precise.
Neither did Detective Nora Patel, the county investigator now assigned to the attempted sabotage.
Patel was in her late thirties, direct, unsentimental and unimpressed by motorcycle-club reputations.
That was one reason Marcus liked her almost immediately.
She sat with him in the back booth.
"You believe the eviction acceleration is retaliation."
"I believe it's worth asking."
"Don't investigate it yourself."
Marcus said nothing.
Patel sighed.
"That silence is exactly why I'm saying it."
"Harmon owns half the block."
"That doesn't make them murderers."
"My brake line does."
"It makes Anthony Breslin a suspect in sabotage."
"Attempted murder."
"Potential attempted murder."
Marcus leaned back.
"You're careful."
"That's my job."
"Mine too now."
Patel looked at him.
"Your job is motorcycle repair?"
"Mostly."
"Keep it that way."
Marcus almost smiled.
Patel leaned closer.
"I'm serious. If these people are connected and if they're dangerous, the last thing I need is twenty guys in cuts intimidating witnesses and contaminating evidence."
"They won't."
"You guarantee that?"
"Yes."
She studied him.
"I've read your file."
Marcus's expression did not change.
"Which one?"
"Exactly."
"You making a point?"
"I am."
"What?"
"People can change. But under pressure, they usually become more of what they already are."
Marcus looked toward Sophie.
She had fallen asleep with her head on Elena's lap.
"What do you think I already am?"
Patel followed his gaze.
"That's what I'm waiting to find out."
Over the next seventy-two hours, Marcus discovered that waiting was harder than fighting.
The Desert Kings wanted answers immediately.