Chapter 8 - SHADOWS ON THE GLASS
Suddenly, a quiet tap echoed against the glass of the diner’s side service door.
Every biker in the room moved instantly. Russell reached beneath his heavy leather vest, his hand coming to rest on the grip of a concealed firearm, while Micah stepped silently behind the counter, picking up a heavy iron skillet from the grill station.
Jonah shielded Emma behind his muscular frame, his eyes fixed on the frosted glass pane of the side door.
Through the translucent glass, the silhouette of a tall man in a dark trench coat was visible, standing still on the rain-slicked side alley.
"Jonah," Russell whispered, his voice tense. "Is it Vance's people?"
Jonah stood up slowly, keeping Emma safely tucked into the red vinyl booth. He walked silently across the checkerboard floor, stopping three feet from the side door. He reached out with his broad, tattooed hand and pulled the heavy brass handle, opening the door three inches.
Standing in the damp alleyway fog was a man in his late fifties, wearing a high-collared dark coat, his face pale and lined with anxiety. He was the diner’s night manager, who had just returned from taking out the morning trash.
"Jonah!" the manager gasped in a frantic whisper, looking over his shoulder toward the main road. "There are two dark sedans parked down the block! Men with earpieces are watching the front of the building! What's going on?"
Jonah’s expression didn't change, but his eyes hardened into cold steel.
"They followed her," Jonah said quietly, glancing back toward Emma.
"Should I call the township police?" the manager offered, his hands trembling.
"No," Jonah said firmly, placing a broad hand flat against the door frame. "The township police chief sits on Marcus Vance's board of directors. Calling them just brings the wolf straight to the front door."
Jonah turned back to face his crew in the diner.
"Russell, take the back alley exit," Jonah ordered, his voice carrying absolute authority. "Get your bike around to the side lot. Micah, secure the kitchen door. We're leaving Briar Creek in five minutes."
"Where are we going?" Russell asked, pulling his motorcycle keys from his pocket.
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Jonah looked back at the small girl sitting in the red vinyl booth, her hazel eyes wide, holding her faded canvas backpack tightly against her knees.
"We're going to the logging creek," Jonah said. "We're going to open Daniel's box."
