Seven Crumpled Dollar Bills on a Pine Table in Michigan

on Mike. “This is family business. You motorcycle guys need to stay out of it.”

“We are in it,” Mike said.

“Sarah, please,” Robert said. “Just sign the paper.”

“We are taking this outside,” Mike said, his hand sliding to Robert’s elbow.

The metal of the door latch clicked as Mike led the way onto the gray wooden porch.

The late afternoon sun was hitting continue reading …