That Adrian was so bothered by what was actually just normal guy shit was a surprise, but maybe there was some marshmallow under that crispy exterior.

Jim put out his palm. “It’s cool. We’re cool.”

Adrian took what was offered. “I’ll try not to be an asshole all of the time.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Adrian smiled. “Yeah, maybe I’ll just alternate with being a dickhead.”

“Also something you could easily pull off.” Jim started up his hog and curled his fist on the accelerator to pump the fresh gas right into those big, hungry pistons. “Shall we, gentlemen?”

“Abso,” Adrian said as he hopped on his own bike. “You go first this time.”

“Dog okay there, Eddie?” Jim asked while eyeing the animal—who seemed thrilled with the adventure.

“We’re rock steady.”

As Jim headed them back in the direction they’d come from, he took in the yellow of the sunlight and the bright white of the clouds and the blue of the sky and the gray of the road. Over to the left, the river paralleled the road, as did the walking path that had been built along the shore. Here and there, fledgling trees that looked like pencils poked into the earth forced the asphalt to wind around as did flower beds that would no doubt be sprouting tulips and daffodils in a couple of weeks.

The Riverside Diner was another shoreline marker, an old lady of a dive that was the kind of place Jim would feel comfortable in and something he’d been meaning to check out. Word was it had pancakes to die for—

Jim eased up on the throttle. In the parking lot, a BMW M6 that looked a hell of a lot like Vin’s was parked next to a green Toyota Camry.

And there was a pair of legs sticking out between the cars, as if a man were lying out on the ground.

Major U-ey action. Lot of gas.

Because Jim had no doubt who belonged to those two shiny loafers.

Whipping into the parking lot, he gunned for the woman who was crouched down by the…yup, it was Vin diPietro who was spread out belly to the heavens. The guy wasn’t moving and had a face like someone had stuck a wax mold of his bruised features on the free end of his spine.

“What happened?” Jim hit the kickstand and got off the bike.

The woman from the club looked up at him. “He just went down. Like last night.”

“Shit.” Jim crouched down as Adrian and Eddie pulled up. Before they could get off their Harleys, he waved for them to stay put, thinking the fewer people involved in this situation, the better.

“How long has he been out?” he asked the woman.

“Only about five minutes or so—Oh, my God…hi.”