Page 65 of Desperate Justice
Allison pushed at the long curtain of her hair. “Now she’s nagging me to go shopping and get a new dress.”
“I thought they were eloping.”
“Eloping her style means a smaller wedding, not Di, Paul and a judge willing to marry them at the last minute. I can’t complain. At least I lured her away from Hernandez. I never want her near him again if I can help it.”
A flicker of guilt went through him. He pushed it aside. All for the greater good, right?You have an agenda, but it is for a higher purpose.
You’re using her sister for the greater good. Just like you used Allison last year to nail the Devil’s Patrol gang.
He and Sam opted to avoid alcohol all day in order to stay sharp. They bought sodas at one of the vendors. Allison demurred, but Diana bought bottled water.
There were vendors showing off the latest motorcycle models, custom bike accessories and much more. Games and plenty of food and drink booths. They walked over to the Cornhole for Charity games. Rafe paid and asked Allison to be on his team.
He tossed the beanbag into the hole on the first try. Allison clapped.
As they played, Diana and Sam watched on the sidelines.
“You’re not into cornhole?” Diana asked Sam.
“If I don’t have to shoot it or catch it with a fly rod, my aim isn’t that great.” Sam winked and sipped his cola.
Diana rolled her eyes and checked her phone.
When Allison tossed in the winning beanbag and their team was declared the winner, Rafe let her select the prize. She chose a large pink stuffed teddy bear and handed it to Diana.
“Here. Maybe she can be in your bridal party,” Allison teased.
Diana didn’t smile as she took the bear. He wondered what happened to ruin her mood.
When Diana told them she was headed over to the booths selling everything from biker art to jewelry, Rafe signaled Sam to follow her.
Trailing Allison as she walked up and down the aisles of custom motorcycles on display, he was surprised to see an older model Harley at the end of one lane. A spry-looking senior stood by the bike, talking with another biker. Rafe recognized him as Aldie, the veteran from the rest stop who’d agreed to watch out for Allison.
When the bystander moved away, Rafe and Allison approached the older man, who greeted Rafe with a hearty handshake.
Aldie’s admiring gaze swept over Allison. He stuck out a leathery hand. “Name’s Aldie Carlton, from Florida.”
“Allison Lexington.” She studied the Harley. It was a classic and had seen better days. As opposed to the gleaming customized motorcycles on display, it looked a little battered and well-loved.
“Is this your custom bike?” Allison asked.
The older man snorted. “Right. Won’t find me on any of them fancy-ass bikes with the specialized paint. I ride my Bessie, not stick her in a garage and take her out once in a while to show her off.”
Allison grinned. “I like your Bessie.”
“I’m holding a space for a young feller who had to run into town to pick up his girl.”
Aldie had a shock of iron gray hair, a roadmap of wrinkles on his careworn face and sharp, intelligent blue eyes. He wore a ball cap proudly announcing he was a veteran.
Rafe nodded at him. “Thank you for your service to our country, sir.”
Rafe bent down to examine the bike with interest. He ran a hand over the back shocks, the gleaming chrome.
“Nice restoration job, Aldie. I’ve never seen a vintage 1974 Harley.”
The older man shrugged. “Did what I could. Guy who sold it to me way back told me these bikes have a rep for leaking oil. Told me if it don’t leak at least a quart, leave it be.”
Aldie patted the seat, covered with strips of duct tape. Well, not strips. The entire thing was held together with duct tape.
