“This is insane,” Rick said. “You don’t even know her.”
“We know enough,” Marcus said. Then he turned to me. “Ma’am, my name is Marcus Williams. I’m president of the Fallen Heroes Motorcycle Club. Every man here is a veteran. We’ve all lost brothers in combat. And we made a promise to take care of the families left behind.”
Another biker stepped forward. “I own a construction company, ma’am. I’ve got an office manager position open. Starts at forty-five thousand a year with benefits. It’s yours if you want it.”
I sank onto my couch. “I don’t understand. Twenty minutes ago you were here to evict me.”
“Twenty minutes ago we didn’t know who you were,” Marcus said. “Rick here told us you were some deadbeat tenant who refused to pay rent. He didn’t mention you were a widow with two kids trying to survive after your husband died serving our country.”
Rick’s face was red. “I didn’t think it mattered.”
“It matters,” another biker said. “It matters more than anything.”
Marcus sat down next to me. “Ma’am, can you tell us about your husband?”
So I did. I told them about David. How we met in high school. How he joined the Marines to pay for college. How he was going to be a teacher when he got out. How he did three tours because he couldn’t leave his brothers behind.
How he died saving four men he’d never met.
