Chapter 6 - SHADOWS ON ROUTE 42
Jonah didn't hesitate for another second. He turned toward the men in the booth.
"Russell, get the bikes fired up," Jonah commanded, his authority absolute and unquestioned. "Micah, you ride swing behind me. I want the rest of you boys covering the road between here and the Blackwood ridge line. Nobody gets near that girl's house before we do."
"You got it, boss," Russell said, instantly sliding out of the red booth. His heavy leather vest creaked as he pulled a set of brass motorcycle keys from his pocket. The three other bikers immediately moved with synchronized efficiency, grabbing their heavy coats and helmets from the wall racks.
Jonah reached into his pocket, pulled out a fifty-dollar bill, and slapped it down onto the wet diner table to cover the spilled coffee and breakfast bill.
He bowed down slightly, bringing his large frame to eye level with nine-year-old Emma.
"What's your name, little girl?" he asked gently.
"Emma," she replied, her small fingers still clutching her backpack straps.
"Well, Emma," Jonah said, extending his thick, calloused left hand toward her. "You did good. You brought your dad's message to the right place."
Emma looked down at his broad, tattooed hand, then reached out her small fingers, wrapping them around his thumb. She didn't look scared anymore; the sheer presence of the five imposing men surrounding her seemed to form an impenetrable wall of protection.
"Come on," Jonah said, guiding her toward the front entrance of the Briar Creek Diner. "We're going home."
As Jonah pushed open the front glass door, the brass bell above chimes once more.
Outside, the cool, damp air of the Pennsylvania morning hit their faces. The heavy fog had started to lift off Route 42, revealing six heavy custom touring motorcycles parked in a neat row under the pine trees beside the diner. Their black chrome finish caught the pale autumn sunlight.
Across the highway, parked on the muddy shoulder beneath the thick pine canopy, sat a sleek, late-model black SUV with tinted windows. Its engine was idling silently, a thin wispy plume of exhaust rising into the chilly air.
As Jonah stepped out onto the gravel lot holding Emma’s hand, the side window of the black SUV rolled down two inches. The dark lens of a high-powered camera flashed briefly behind the glass, recording every movement on the diner steps.
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Micah saw it instantly.
"Jonah," Micah muttered softly, his hand resting casually against his belt line as he stepped beside Jonah's left flank. "We got eyes across the road."
