Chopper phoned Dax, and then Garrett and Zack, before they left the Waffle House. Dax and a few of the guys were almost to Ohio, but Garrett was already in Chicago with his old lady, and Zack was meeting him there. He had left from New York, so he was ahead of the rest of them. This was Chopper’s tenth Sturgis run. His parents let him go on his first one with them when he was sixteen, and he’d ridden with the Skulls every year since he was seventeen. He knew that there were certain hotels that most of the MCs stayed at along the way, and he was hoping, with the guys all so spread out, they could get the word out and someone would run across this guy.

Chelsea was pretty shaken up, but he believed she didn’t know who this guy was or what he wanted with her. That was the first question Garrett asked when he spoke to Chopper. Garrett came from years of being in Special Ops and tracking some of the worst characters in the world. He didn’t trust easily. Chopper had the opposite kind of life. He’d lived around bikers his entire life and they were the most loyal, truthful people he knew. Of course that was only to each other, but since he’d never had any bad experiences as far as trust went, he didn’t have any hang-ups about it. He got feelings about people and in the myriad of feelings he already had for Chelsea, trust was near the top. Garrett had still been a little skeptical when they ended the call. His take was that if this guy was pissed enough at her to try to run her over, their paths had to have crossed sometime or another. Or, someone that she pissed off had hired him. Chopper reassured him that when they got to where they were staying for the night, he’d explore that possibility with her. But even that was hard for him to imagine.

They had been riding for almost five hours straight and Chelsea had barely said two words. She was probably the best travel companion he’d ever had on the back of his bike, especially for someone that wasn’t used to the long haul. But he knew she had to be stressed and tired, and hungry. She hadn’t touched her breakfast.

He pulled to the side of the road and turned off the bike before saying, “You about ready to stop for the night?”

She stepped off the bike and the grimace on her face told him that she was feeling the over three hundred miles they’d already gone. “It’s early yet. Are you just stopping for me? I don’t want to slow you down.”

“Nah, my buddy has a place in Ithaca. The guys stopped by there this morning for a rest and Dax texted over the code so we could get in. I’d rather stay tonight and get an early start in the morning.”

She nodded. “Okay. I forgot how much riding on a bike was like riding a horse…only I don’t usually stay on a horse for so many hours straight.”

Chopper smiled. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I’m so used to it that I don’t even feel it anymore.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she said, “I’m enjoying it.”

“Good. Rusty’s place is another fifty miles or so. We can stop by the Ale House in Ithaca and either eat there or grab something to go.”

“Sounds good.” She slid back on the bike and said, “While we eat, you can finally tell me the story behind ‘Justice’ like you promised.”

He chuckled. “All right. Let’s go grab some Fat Kid burgers first. Oh! And buffalo egg rolls.” He glanced back at her and she was making a face. Chuckling again he said, “Club sandwich? Flat bread pizza?”

It took them about an hour to get to Ithaca and Chelsea settled on the flat bread pizza. They took their food to go and Chopper stopped again at a liquor store before they got where they were going. Chelsea stayed outside, but for the second or maybe third time in two days, she was really craving a drink. She’d tried to keep her mind off the guy that was chasing her, and maybe even trying to kill her, but the long ride didn’t give her much else to do but think, and she’d thought herself into a headache, trying to remember who in the hell that guy was.

After the liquor store stop they rode up toward the lake for another half an hour or so. The scenery was beautiful, and Chelsea’s headache was getting milder by the mile. Chopper turned off the main road and onto what looked like a service road, stopping once to get off the bike and enter a code into the wrought iron gate that surrounded a lush, green property that resembled a golf course. When they got back on the road Chelsea realized it had changed from pavement to cobblestone, and when the trees parted, and she saw the house in front of them, she whistled. She heard Chopper laugh and when he pulled the bike right up almost to the front door and turned it off he said, “It’s something, huh?”

“What the hell does this ‘buddy’ of yours do?” She slid off the bike and Chopper followed her. While she took off her helmet, she was staring up at the massive, brick and wood house in front of them. Chopper pulled the bandanna off his head and ran a hand through his hair.

“He’s a prospect,” he told her with a wink.

“Damn, any spots open?” He laughed again and said:

“You know who Rusty Daniels is?”

She pulled her brows together and said, “Not the football player? My dad loves that guy.”

“Yep, that’s him. Only he’s a retired football player now. He’s living back in Boston and he’s one of our newest prospects.”

“Son of a bitch. Dad would never believe that.”

Chopper got the food and the bag he’d brought out of the liquor store from the chopper’s saddlebags and Chelsea followed him up toward the front door. “I haven’t been here before, but Dax said it has six bedrooms and four or five bathrooms.” Chopper handed Chelsea one of the bags and pulled out his phone. He looked at it and pressed in numbers on the panel attached to a massive lock on the front door. It flashed green and beeped, and he turned the knob and pushed it open. Chelsea whistled again.

“Fuck,” she said. Chopper laughed. To their right was a spiral staircase and directly in front of them was a sunken living room. They walked into it and Chelsea looked around. For the size and quality of the house, the furnishings were surprisingly simple and sparse. Chopper was looking around too, and he told her:

“This is why I love Rusty. This fucking house has to be worth millions, yet it looks like you could kick back on the couch and watch a football game with a beer in your hand and your shoes off.”

Chelsea smiled. She had to agree. They crossed the living room and entered an open plan dining room. At least that’s what she assumed it was. There was no table in it, only a bar, and the wall was covered in old neon bar signs. They pushed through another door and found a kitchen where Chopper set their food down on top of a granite countertop. The appliances were all stainless steel, and there were floor-to-ceiling windows along one wall that looked out over a covered patio and barbecue area, a pool, and jacuzzi. “I’m almost afraid to touch anything,” she said. “It’s all so beautiful, and clean.”

“Yeah, Dax said the cleaning woman was showing up as they left this morning, so thankfully we probably missed the beer bottle tree they built and the empty pizza boxes that were probably left in the living room. I just hope she changed the sheets too, in case anyone took a nap. I love those guys, but some of them get a little funky sometimes.”

She laughed as she began rummaging through the bag of food on the counter. “I’m starving.”

“Me too,” he said, pulling off his gloves and vest. He went over to the cabinets along the wall and rummaged until he found some paper plates and napkins, and then he reached into the bag he’d brought out of the liquor store. Chelsea was surprised when, instead of beer, he pulled out a six-pack of soda. “I wasn’t sure what kind you liked.”

Touched, she said, “That’s perfect, thank you. You know it’s okay for you to drink in front of me.”

“I know,” he nodded. “I’m not a huge drinker, though, unless I’m in a party mood. I’m good with soda tonight.”

They got their food and drinks together and Chopper said, “You want to eat at the bar in there or try out the patio?” It was a nice, calm summer afternoon/almost evening. Chelsea said:

“I’d like to eat outside if you don’t mind.”

“Nope, I don’t mind.” He looked around and laughed as he said, “I’m not real sure how to get out there.”

They roamed around for a few minutes until they found the back door just on the other side of the living room. There was a large glass table with an umbrella over it close to an industrial-sized barbecue pit and just opposite what looked like an Olympic-sized swimming pool. Chelsea was slightly overwhelmed by it all, but she was glad to see that Chopper looked almost as dumbfounded. They sat down and once they both had their food and drinks in front of them Chelsea said, “Okay, so Justice?”

He grinned. “Well, to start at the beginning, my dad has been a Southside Skull for over thirty years. He’s a nomad, always has been. He’s never been good at staying in one place, you know?” Chelsea nodded, but the truth was she felt like she’d been in one place her entire life, never moving forward, slipping backward every so often and clawing her way back to her place.

“What about your mom?”

“She’s his old lady, first and last. My mom worships the ground that old man walks on, and rightfully so, in my opinion. He’s a good guy and he loves her. As far as I know, he’s always been faithful to her. When I was growing up he used to tell me that loyalty was even more important than love. He said if someone was loyal to you, love was either there, or it would come. They got together when she was eighteen and he was twenty. He called her his old lady for the first few years and she traveled with him, and from the stories I hear, they had a hell of a lot of fun. Then I came along…”

“And put the brakes on the fun?” she said with a laugh.

He laughed too. “Well, that’s not the way my mother tells the story, thankfully. But, back to my story. When my mom turned twenty-one, Dad took her to Vegas to celebrate. They went from bar to bar, and casino to casino, and by the time they walked into a dive bar off the Strip, the old man was good and wasted. There was a local gang in the bar, intimidating types, or so they thought. Mom said she knew as soon as they walked in that it was a bad idea, but the old man refused to be intimidated by anyone, especially when he was drunk. They ordered their drinks and Mom went to the bathroom. On her way out, a couple of these guys accosted her, started putting their hands on her and shit. The bathroom was way in the back, so Dad couldn’t see what was going on. Anyways, Mom yelled, but the music was too loud and one of these assholes backed her into a corner. She stabbed him.”

“Oh my god! Did he die?”

“Nah, but she said she got him in the nuts, so I bet he wished he had for a while anyways.” Chelsea was laughing at the visual she had of that when he went on. “I guess he hit his knees crying and the other asshole realized what was happening and he went for his gun. She cut his hand…the one he was pulling the gun with…and it went off and he shot his own foot.”

“Oh shit.”

He chuckled. “Yeah,” he said, shaking his head. “So, the gunshot brought everyone running and security, who Mom said had to hold the old man back to keep him from killing these guys. He did end up getting arrested when the cops got there, though, because they arrested Mom and he freaked out. He spent the night in the drunk tank and Mom went in front of a judge the next morning.

“The story these pieces of shit gave was that Mom had been wasted and looking to score drugs and when they told her they didn’t have anything she freaked out on them and pulled the knife. The police had done a blood test on Mom the night before to test her blood alcohol and made her piss to test for drugs. That had been when she told them she hadn’t been drinking at all because she was pregnant. Her public defender presented that information to the judge at her arraignment the next morning, and the judge apparently asked the DA in front of the entire courtroom if he thought justice would be served by bringing charges against a young, pregnant woman who was most likely only defending herself. The DA ended up dropping the assault charges against her and she was only charged with carrying a concealed weapon, which she just had to pay a fine for and do a few months’ probation. The men who attacked her were charged with assault, assault with a deadly weapon, and all kinds of charges related to the gun, which was illegal, and the guy that was in possession of it was a felon…”

“So, your mom named you Justice because of what the judge said?”

“Kind of…see, it was Vegas. And when Mom and Dad both got out of jail, Dad proposed. They went to one of the little wedding chapels and guess who moonlighted there as the Justice of the Peace?”

“Oh no! The judge?”

“Yep. So, the old man calls Mom a ‘hippie’ but she prefers ‘free spirit.’ Anyways, she believes that the universe speaks to her sometimes, and she felt like the universe kept using that word ‘Justice’ because that’s what it wanted her to name her child.”

“That’s a cool story.”

“Thanks. So, what about you?”

“Chelsea came out of a baby book, I think.”

“No, I mean your story. Your family, where you come from. Are you from Boston originally?”

“Yeah, born and bred. My parents own a ranch out in Needham.”

“Okay, wow, we grew up pretty damned close to each other. But I wasn’t around all that much, I guess.”

“You traveled with your parents?”

He nodded. “For the first two years, my old man traveled, and Mom and I lived in one of the houses the Skulls owned. That was before Dax took over and expanded the ranch. They had some houses in the projects that they rented out. Nobody messed with us there; though; the affiliation would have been enough, but as I’m sure you’ve figured out, Mom was nobody you wanted to mess with.”

She smiled. “I wouldn’t mess with her.”

He laughed. “Yeah, I still do what she tells me. But anyways, when I was three, the old man bought her a trike.”

“A trike?”

“Yeah, a three-wheeled motorcycle. He had Toolie make a custom sidecar for it. It was covered and had a seat belt and everything. I have lots of pictures of me in it, and it was so fucking cool.”

“It sounds amazing. That’s nice that you could all travel together.”

He nodded. “Yeah, Mom homeschooled me and we just had to check in a couple times a year. I believe I got a better education, getting to see the US and different cultures and all that. It gave me the bug, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“To travel,” he said. “I get antsy when I’m in one place for too long. I could never be happy putting down real roots.” Chelsea didn’t like the feeling that statement gave her. She still barely knew this guy. Whether or not he wanted to put down roots should mean nothing to her, but for some reason it did.