2. Having a loud exhaust is like eating
chips in church. Everyone looks at you in disgust,
but secretly they want some too.
- Funny Meme
“How’d it go?” Odin, our clubs newest patched Vice President asks as I shut off the engine and climb off my bike. He’s outside with a shiny black Doberman.
I shrug. “Fine, I guess.” If a chick calling me cupcake and handing me my ass can be even called fine. “Whose dog?” I change the subject.
“This beauty belongs to Nightmare’s son. I’m dog sitting while Night takes his kid and ol’ lady out of town for a few days.”
“Does it bite?”
“You’ll be fine; just stick your hand out first. The thing about Dobermans is you have to approach them with respect. If you do, most of them won’t harm you. People have the wrong impression of them.”
I nod and do what he suggests, letting the dog smell me before I attempt to touch it.
“Did Chevelle give you any shit?” His smirk is telling.
“I take it you know her?” I rake a hand through my hair, frustrated with my first impression.
He nods, “Yeah, she’s not one to take any shit.”
“She have a man?”
He snorts. “Brother, no one can get close enough. She’s more likely to punch you than kiss you. A few around here think she may prefer women.”
“Nah, she definitely likes men.”
His brow hikes. “No shit? You went over there once, and you already found that out?” He switches the dog leash to his other hand, following the dog’s leisurely lead.
“I may have gotten in her face a bit.” I shrug and scratch the dog behind its cropped ear as we walk.
He tucks his blond hair behind his ears, glancing around the compound. “Damn, I’m surprised she didn’t throw a punch. The last guy I saw grab her ass at a race was drug out of there with a broken nose.” His face lights up with an amused grin at the memory.
Jesus and no one thought to warn me about her beforehand? I was on good behavior; I can only imagine what she’d been like if I’d had a few beers before seeing her. I have a feeling my “me Tarzan, you Jane” usual rationale would’ve landed me with a broken nose as well if I’d have attempted to hike her over my shoulder. Chicks normally love that shit, but apparently, Chevelle isn’t like most chicks. Sounds like she went a bit easy on me when I grabbed her hair and she body slammed me. No wonder she’s the one running The Pit. She can obviously handle herself.
“She ever have anyone around in case she needs help?”
“Chevelle’s not the type to be caught needing help from anyone. She’s smart and cutthroat.”
“Well, she owed Viking apparently.”
He nods. “That happened by chance. Viking had just killed his father and taken over the Widow Makers. Being new to the area and the Oath Keepers he rode with, he wanted us to do something other than drink at the bar.”
“Nothing wrong with the bar,” I grumble, and he continues.
“Anyhow, we rode out to The Pit. People didn’t know what to think when they saw us, two different patches rolling up together, our bikes sounding like angry thunder.”
“What was the big deal?”
“Widow Makers were notorious in the south like the Iron Fists are in the west; they didn’t get along with anyone. Naturally, The Pit calls to a lot of us, the speed and engines, not to mention the fresh pussy floating around and open bets.”
“That’d definitely be somewhere I’d enjoy.”
He nods. “Well, when you have different folks from about sixty different clubs seeing the two together, they band together to challenge you, being that most Austin clubs are on a truce with one another.”
“Oh shit.”
“Viking got them all to chill the fuck out. Saved The Pit from a shit ton of damage. Chevelle was called in since she runs the place. She witnessed everything, and in the end, told Viking thanks and that she owed him. Don’t know what she planned on owing him since he’d had Princess at the time. Hell, half of us thought maybe he was alpha enough that she wanted to actually fuck him.”
“Did he?”
He shakes his head. “Nope, nothing ever came of it. I’m guessing he waited until now to call her on it. And he wouldn’t ever fuck her. He was obsessed with Princess from the moment he saw her from what I’ve heard. He had it bad enough that he chopped a guy’s head clean off for talking negatively about Princess.” We stop walking, and the dog lays in the grass, rolling to expose its belly to Odin.
“Hmm.”
I know I’m plenty alpha to give her what she needs. The real trouble is breaking her just enough to get my chance. I’ve always been up for a challenge, though, and it’ll be a good distraction.
My brothers Saint and Sinner just claimed their woman, and I’ve been a bit taken with her ever since I showed up from Chicago. I was set on getting my chance to fuck her, but club law says I can no longer touch her since she’s property. As much as I don’t want to respect that rule, I have to, or those two could skin me up and bleed me dry in retaliation if they wanted to.
“Anyone break club law around here?” I ask absently, lost in the thought of my brothers’ ol’ lady.
He pauses from scratching the Doberman’s belly to glance up at me. “What did you do?”
“Nothing.” I clear my throat. “Just curious what the club did as punishment.”
“I’ve heard you were a bit rough around the edges, we all have,” Odin admits. “But that’s why we believed you’d fit in with us. The last thing you want to do is cross my brother or any others, in any way.”
“Is that coming from the man’s blood brother or the VP of my club?”
“Both. No one knows him better than me. Well, maybe his ol’ lady, but when it comes to club business, I know what makes Viking tick. He values his club and woman.”
“Good to know,” I reply, and he stands from his haunches.
“I won’t pretend to know what you’re goin’ through man but trust me when I say Texas is the best place for you. Especially if you don’t fit in between the lines anywhere else. We’re all fucked up; every single one of us, in some way.”
I’ve never really fit. I don’t let anyone know that though. I’ve gotten used to being alone when it boils down to it. I’m surprised Odin picked up on that so easily. Maybe he does know what it’s like to stand outside of the lines.
“I appreciate that, O.” He may be the youngest brother around here, but he’s the easiest to talk to. I’m the newest member in this chapter, so I suppose it helps to have the VP at my back too.
“Were any of the Fists around when you were at The Pit?” The dog gets back up, nose pushing through the grass, searching for bugs, I suppose.
“No, just a few employees. Looked like they were cleaning up. Chevelle was down on the track working on a handful of cars.”
“Those are all hers.”
“No fucking way.” My eyes widen, hands resting on my hips as the dog covers its nose with soil.
He nods. “She’s dead serious on that track, and she’s rarely beaten.” We head back toward the club, dog in tow. After a beat, he asks, “Did you challenge her?”
“You could say that.”
He stops, turning to face me again. “What did you do? Viking will be pissed if you fucked up their truce.”
“I should say she challenged me. I had to race her to get a chance to speak to her.”
His lips turn into a grin. “Yeah? How’d that turn out for you?”
“Well, she threw her time in my face, told me I had the same amount to speak. I couldn’t put up much of a fight since I rode her taillights the entire time.”
Odin laughs loudly, not trying to save my pride in the slightest. “Can’t say I’m surprised. Like I already said, she’s serious,” he declares and continues toward the door.
“Wish I’d known that prior to riding over.”
He nods. “You want her attention, then you need to at least almost beat her on the track.”
“We’ll see. I have a feeling she’s used to dickless pricks.”
“This is going to be fun to watch. You whither her resolve down so I can tap that ass after you do all of the work.”
I snort in reply, and he chuckles again crossing the threshold to the bar.
“Brothers, church is in session,” Viking declares, slamming the gavel to the table.
It’s silent enough you could hear a cricket chirp as we all await to hear what he has to say. I’m at the farthest end of the long stretch of table, being that I’m the newest here. I’m not a prospect at least. I’m a fully patched member, but as far as this club’s concerned, I’m fresh meat.
He draws a deep breath in and begins, his blond brows furrowed. “As you’re aware, Ruger was sent on another scouting mission. He rode out with the NOMADS yesterday and is instructed to call me the first chance he gets if he comes across any Fists. We’re this close…” He holds his hand up, pinching his fingers an inch apart. “To figuring out these assholes’ location.”
Our Nordic-looking Prez stares hard at Nightmare’s empty seat. He’s missing this since he’s out of town with his family. “We have to get Night some retribution for what the Iron Fists have put his family through. This wait is driving me crazy; I can only imagine what our brother is dealin’ with.”
Several brothers around the table second his statement and hum in agreement.
Torch sits forward. “Prez.”
Viking’s gaze lands on the fierce man to his right. “Go ahead, Torch.” The brother’s built tall and menacingly. He reminds me of the Terminator with the way his sharp glower can easily make a man uncomfortable. He gives you a dark glare, and you automatically know you’re going to meet the reaper by his hand.
“My buddy came through on the explosives we wanted. We’ll be ready for whenever we do discover the Fists’ hiding spots. No more half-assed fire; we’ll blow that bitch sky high.”
“Good and the guns?”
His cousin, Blaze, covered in colorful fire tattoos with ears full of multiple small black gauges pipes up. “The Russians delivered as promised, and we have plenty at the ready. Odin helped me unload them, and they’re secure in the basement bunker.”
That’s some of the craziest shit I’ve ever seen too. Viking had a bunker put in under the club’s basement. Unless you know where to look, you won’t find it. Any weapons that come in are stored under there in case a bomb goes off, or we’re raided by the cops. He’s a smart fucker.
Smokey, our club treasurer, takes a long drag of his cigarette. He speaks while exhaling a hazy cloud of smoke. “Club bank is straight. Bills are paid, brothers have money in their pockets, shit’s ordered, and there’s still plenty for a rainy day should the need arise.”
Viking nods. “I saw the books. Good work, all of you. The runs have been paying off, and we’ve climbed out of owing anyone anything. We need to keep the whores happy and safe. They’ve been handing us a steady flow of cash.”
Blaze smirks. “Whores are content. We’ve been keeping an eye on the johns coming through, and in return, they’ve all remained unharmed on our watch. Girls have been tipping us more lately too, so they must be making good money.”
“Bet. Any of them mention they want out of whoring yet?”
“Nope.” His cousin shakes his head. He has hair the same cornfield color as Viking and Odin, only he styles his in a faux hawk whereas the other two keep theirs long.
“Even better. Remember they always have the option to leave safely. We’re security, not pimps.”
We all nod. He says the same thing about it at every church session I’ve been to. And Blaze doesn’t even work the girls anymore. Once Odin took over as VP, Blaze got tasked as Viking’s ol’ lady’s personal security.
“Mercenary.” Prez’s penetrating stare lands on me next.
“Prez.” I nod in acknowledgement and meet his hard stare across the table. The man never eases up, always serious and concerned with club business.
“Everything straight at The Pit?
“Yep, didn’t know Chevelle was a goddamn sex kitten, though,” I rasp, thinking of her tight body, and a few brothers chuckle around me. Bastards could’ve warned me.
“She’s something all right,” he agrees, his lips turned up just a touch in amusement. “Don’t fuck it up over there. We need you in the middle of it all for recon. I want to know why the Fists are coming into our territory. They think no one’s paying any attention when they couldn’t be more wrong. There are too many bikers in central Texas for no one not to notice unwelcome colors riding in. They’re straight-up shitbags.”
“She has me racing on Saturday. Were you aware of that happening?”
One side of his mouth hikes up a bit more at the new turn of events. It’s sort of a part scowl, part smirk and his gaze turns thoughtful. “Hope you didn’t place any bets.” He said nearly the same thing before I went, and I wrote it off as nothing, now I understand why. Chevelle plays to win.
“No bets, I raced her for her time.”
“Did you even get a chance to speak then?”
Odin snorts beside him. Saint snickers and I blow out a pent-up breath. “I had a minute and fourteen seconds,” I admit and the brothers all chuckle.
“Fuck.” The Prez actually grins and then shakes his head. “You gotta stay on your toes with that one; watch yourself.”
“I plan to.” I nod, and he moves on.
“Okay, you heard Merc. So, if any of you are free Saturday, head out with him and keep an eye on the crowd since he’ll be behind the wheel for a bit.”
“I can go,” Odin offers.
“Me too, brother,” Torch offers.
“Bet,” Viking approves and flicks his eyes to Blaze. “Cousin, I need you to stick close to Princess now that Odin has been patched to Vice President. I know we briefly discussed it and all.”
“I promised you before I’d protect her with my life.”
Prez exhales and rubs his hand over his face. “I remember. I think she’s had enough time to move past any hard feelings she may have carried toward you too. It’s time to be a permanent move, and she knew it would be coming soon after Odin’s new patch.”
“You still want me manning the bar too?”
“No, my ol’ lady takes priority. She’s been through enough and Odin has offered her a sense of safety when I’m not around.”
He turns to Chaos. “I need you to take over handling the bar. I can ask Nightmare’s ol’ lady to bartend a few days a week to give you a break and also when you’re sent out on a run.”
“Chaos’ eyebrow shoots up. “I can open beers just fine, but I don’t know how to mix drinks and shit. I drank my fair share during my football days at parties and what not, but never made any of them.”
“Most of us know how to fix our own; I just need you back there until I can find someone else full time. Especially cause you’re the first line of defense through the main door. An enemy comes in, you take that shotgun behind the bar to their chest and ask questions later. I won’t fuck around after the club was stormed once before.”
“No problem, boss.”
“Good, anyone else have anything to add?”
We remain quiet, and he slams the gavel again. “Do your jobs and get the fuck out of my chapel!”