Chapter 2 Six months later

Flint never looked back once the decision was made to return home to the Steel Infidels. Surprisingly, after the funeral, the motorcycle club accepted him readily back into the fold, breaking one of their firmest and most steadfast rules - if you left the club, you never came back.

He knew the vote to allow him back in wasn't unanimous. Of the twelve remaining voting members of the MC, there were two votes against him: Rocco, a convicted felon and owner of a shady car repo business and Danny, his brother.

Flint wasn't too upset about it. He suspected the main reason Rocco voted against him was because of his deep mistrust of anyone involved in the legal profession. Allowing a lawyer into the club's most private and secret dealings would be a bitter pill to swallow. And unfortunately, Rocco wasn't smart enough to appreciate how much the club could use Flint's expertise in the legal field, especially considering some of their more recent activities.

Flint hoped the brothers would eventually come around. The strength of the MC depended on the solidarity of its members. While the majority ruled in voting situations, every individual vote was still taken solemnly and seriously.

The other ten members had voted yes more out of loyalty to his older brother, Jesse, the current president of the MC, than to him. There was no doubt that at some point, the crew would demand Flint to prove his loyalty to the club. When that day came, he would be expected to do whatever task was given to him without question or hesitation. He was ready and willing though he knew the task might be brutal and would definitely be illegal.

He'd made the mistake of turning his back on the MC once. No matter what, he wouldn't let them down again.

****

The receptionist knocked gently on the door before opening it a crack and sticking her head inside. "Dr. Shaw, you have a phone call."

"I'm a little bit busy here, Jan," Dr. Kendra Shaw replied. She grimaced as the hawk she was holding tried to dig its sharp talons into her hand. "Squeeze in here. I could use another set of hands to help hold Malone while I examine him. He's looking for any opportunity to shred my fingers if I let him."

Jan moved quickly to the veterinarian's side and held the hawk's feet firmly while Dr. Shaw examined his wings.

"The caller sounded panicked," Jan continued. "He claims he has a bald eagle corralled in his shed with a suspected gunshot wound to his wing. He wanted to know if you can come pick it up."

"A bald eagle?" Dr. Shaw replied. "That's unusual for North Georgia. How much do you want to bet it's really a vulture? He can't bring it here himself?"

Jan shook her head. "No. He said it's flopping around and he doesn't want to risk injuring it more. He's on hold since he insisted on speaking with you directly."

Dr. Shaw let out a tired sigh. "They always do." She carefully turned the hawk over and placed him back into his carrier. "There you go, boy. Jan, you can take him back out to the raptor aviary," she said before washing her hands and picking up the phone.

****

Never in her life had veterinarian Kendra Shaw been able to turn away from an animal in need. This time wasn't any different. After the phone call, she'd dropped everything, rearranged her schedule for the afternoon, and jumped into her truck to go pick up the eagle.

Usually, people brought the injured wild animals and birds into the Shaw Wildlife Center themselves. Occasionally, she had to go out and get them. Most of the time the pickups were animals people were afraid to touch for fear of rabies, like raccoons, skunks, or foxes. Every once in a while, she'd receive an oddball call about a baby black bear or orphaned coyote pup.

A bald eagle wasn't something she treated often, so she didn't hesitate about offering to drive over herself for this one. She tried to think back. It had been at least a couple of years since she'd had an injured eagle come in for rehab. She hoped this one wasn't hurt too badly. There would be hell to pay if she found out who shot him. Not to mention probable jail time and a huge fine as well. The phone number of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife was on her speed dial and she would be in contact with them the minute she returned to the clinic.

She downshifted the gears in the truck as the gravel road going up the side of the mountain grew steeper. Light sleet pelted the windshield. According to the weather report she had checked before heading out, a winter storm was due to blow in later.

She wasn't concerned. If things went well and the eagle was cooperative, she would have plenty of time to get him safely into the heated carrier in the bed of the truck and head back to town before the roads became slick.

In any case, she hoped the cabin wasn't too much further up the mountain. The male caller had given her very specific directions on how to get there, but she hadn't expected it to be so far out in the middle of nowhere.

It had been at least ten miles since she'd seen another house. The gravel road had first turned to dirt then gradually narrowed to one lane barely big enough for her truck. Like most of the mountain roads in rural north Georgia, there weren't any guardrails preventing cars from sliding off the side of the road with a single wrong move.

After carefully maneuvering the truck around a couple more tight switch-backs, she spotted the rustic log cabin tucked into a small clearing. She pulled up in front of the house and leaned over to grab her medical bag. Before getting out, she took a quick glance around the premises. She didn't see a shed. Surely she didn't miss it on the way up?

The oak front door swung open before she made it to the top step of the porch. A tall, burly man with a scraggly beard in a black leather jacket stepped outside to greet her.

"Thank you for coming in such a hurry, Dr. Shaw," he said, not meeting her eyes. "I appreciate it. Come on inside."

"Where's the eagle?" she asked, suddenly feeling uneasy. It occurred to her that in her haste to rescue yet another animal, she had agreed to meet a strange man in an isolated cabin. Miles and miles from anyone. Smart move, Kendra, she berated herself. "Is he still alive?" she asked.

"Yeah, he's okay. Let's go in by the fire and warm up a minute. I'll tell you how I found him," the man replied, motioning for her to walk through the door in front of him.

Kendra smiled politely and tried not to show her irritation or unease. As a general rule, the Good Samaritans who found injured animals always wanted to tell her the whole story about the animal before they handed it over. They seemed to feel the need to tell her the tiniest details of everything they'd done for the animal so far as well as all the research they'd found on the Internet. When every minute counted to save an animal's life, it could be a tad bit annoying at times. She always tried her best to be patient though, knowing their hearts were in the right place.

"It's probably better if you take me straight to him," she said firmly. "There's a storm blowing in and the sooner I can safely transport him back to my clinic, the sooner I can take care of his injuries and hopefully save his wing. You can call me later to check on him if you like. I'll give you my cell phone number. I don't mind if you do."

"Alright," he said, stepping inside and shutting the door behind them. "Let me get my gloves."

Kendra took two steps inside the small cabin and stopped dead in her tracks. "What the hell is going on here?"