Page 2 of My Enemy Biker

Her pen taps twice against the paper, a thinking rhythm. "You're serious."

"I don't waste time on things I don't mean."

Something crosses her face. Not softening exactly, more like she's filed away information that matters. She pulls another document forward and I catch myself watching how her hand moves, economical and precise, no wasted motion.

"Easement terms require compensation at fair market value," she says. "Advance notice of use. Maintenance agreements. Liability coverage."

"We can negotiate terms."

"Okay, then let's negotiate,," she says, pulling up a specific statute on her printed materials. "Easement rights require documented consideration and establish that compensation must reflect actual usage patterns."

"Operational need supersedes standard compensation frameworks when access predates formal agreements," I counter. "Eight years of established use creates a pattern that factors into negotiation."

She taps her pen against the page. "You're citing adverse possession principles, but they don't apply to voluntary negotiations.Miller v. Stateset precedent that—"

"Private access roads fall outside that precedent. Miller involved public easements."

She stops. Frowns. Reads the case citation again.

I can see her working through it, checking her own argument for holes. It takes her about ten seconds.

"You're right," she says finally. "That precedent doesn't apply here."

She doesn't look pleased about conceding, but she does it cleanly. Then immediately shifts.

"If Vigil's using my road, Vigil maintains it," she says. "Grading, drainage, surface repair. That's non-negotiable."

"Club can handle maintenance."

"In writing."

"Agreed."

Her pen moves across her notepad. I'm supposed to be tracking what she's writing but instead I'm noticing how the afternoon light hits the side of her face, how her jaw sets when she's building to a point, the small scar through her left eyebrow.

She looks up and catches me watching. Holds my gaze for two seconds before continuing like nothing happened.

"Advance notice," she says. "Minimum twelve hours before road use. Text or call, doesn't matter which, but I need to know when vehicles will be on my property."

"That limits operational flexibility."

"That's the point." She leans forward slightly and the movement brings her closer, changes the air between us into something denser. "You want access, I want transparency. That's the deal."

"What if it's urgent?"

"Then you call me and explain why it's urgent. I'm reasonable. I'm not stupid." Her eyes stay locked on mine. "A club ran my neighborhood back home for fifteen years. No notice, no permission, no accountability. If Vigil's different, prove it."

There it is. The reason she's got documentation ready and a fence installed before anyone showed up.

She's seen this before, knows how it goes when men with patches show up making demands.

Can't blame her for that.

"Twelve hours' notice when possible," I say. "Emergency use with immediate notification after."

She tilts her head slightly, considering. "Define emergency."

"Active threat to club or Bloomfield."