Chapter Eight
~Dover~
The ride from Cloverfield to Dyersburg is only a few hours. However, riding in the wind and rain as it pelts down in large drops is miserable. We get in around nine, all of us ready to eat. After a quick check in at Dunnes Inn, we are taking a cruise to the diner on Main Street, Charlie’s Diner.
It’s like a retro café of sorts. With the old hubcaps on the walls and the metal tables, it’s a throwback to a better time. The smell of fried food assaults our noses, and Trapper’s belly growls loudly. I swear the man could eat triple his weight and still be fucking hungry.
We take a seat at an open table to the left. The space is empty for the night. Then again, it’s a Tuesday in a small town, so I imagine not much happens here normally.
I hear a male’s voice grumble from the back kitchen, and it’s only seconds later when a dark-haired waitress struts over, sticking her large breasts out.
We are dirty, tired, wet, and hungry. We are also men. If this chick keeps it up, she’s going to have more on her plate than our food.
With a smack of her gum, she hands us our menus. The lamination is worn, and the specials are all crossed out, but there is a certain down-home appeal I bet all the locals love about this joint.
“Hello, boys, name is Mitzi, and I’m happy to take care of ya tonight.” She adds a wink at the end to no one in particular.
“Pulled pork barbeque sandwich and fries,” Deacon immediately gives her his order and tosses his menu toward the end of the table.
“Burger, fries, and key lime pie,” Judge follows up.
I place my menu over theirs. “Pork tenderloin plate.”
“Same,” X adds with his gaze off in some far away thought. He hasn’t been right since reading the emails.
“I’ll take a sample of your neck, a meal of your breasts, and that prime pussy for dessert,” Trapper lays out for Mitzi.
The door opens, and the air shifts. Mitzi throws up a hand in greeting while another waitress steps out from the back and tells them to take a seat wherever they would like.
I watch as four men enter the diner and make their way toward us. More specifically, four big-ass bikers.
Oh, hell, this isn’t about territory, guys.
I shake my head, but they continue their approach. A quick read of their patches and I know we are dealing with a prez by the name of Spook; a VP that goes by Boner; a bald, pissed as hell fucker named Stiff; and an old man named Dawg.
I lift my hands to let them know we aren’t here for trouble. Well, not trouble with them, anyway.
“State your business,” Dawg orders, looking at me.
“Passing through.”
“Pack up and pass on through, then,” Spook chimes in.
The other waitress comes around from behind the counter, and I watch as Stiff and Boner both turn their attention to her, ensuring her safety.
“We’ll be in the corner tonight, Chelsea,” the one named Boner informs as Stiff turns his attention back to us.
“Got something to take care of, and then we’ll be gone soon enough,” Rowdy explains.
Dawg looks at his brothers. Then he turns to the side, giving me a view of the dual snakes’ insignia and the words Vipers Creed on the back of his cut. He shakes his head at them.
We aren’t getting a pass. Fuck!
Spook steps over to stand behind Trapper. Hell, this could go bad fast. Trapper is unpredictable at best.
“Devil’s Due, huh?” Spook reads Trapper’s cut. “Nomads, huh? You’re in the wrong place.”
“No, I do believe we’re in Dyersburg, Tennessee, which is the right place for what we need,” Trapper smarts off, and we all prepare to fight.
One day, he is going to get us all killed by running his damn mouth. We didn’t come here to cause trouble, but we damn sure won’t back down.
Spook stares me down. Our eyes lock.
“Just looking for someone. We find them, and we’re out. We don’t find them, and we’re out,” I explain.
“Well, the problem with this plan of yours is you aren’t welcome here,” Stiff says, brushing past us to go sit at his table. He doesn’t turn around as he speaks, “Leave or get thrown out. Either way, you gotta go.”
“I ordered an appetizer, dinner, and dessert, and I’m gonna be tired after that, so maybe tomorrow, we’ll find our way down the road. Maybe not,” Trapper continues adding fuel to the fire building between our club and theirs.
Deacon looks at the men one by one, sizing them up. “Marker. You get a marker from us. One. Call it in anytime, and we handle it. No questions asked.”
Spook laughs. “What the fuck kind of marker do I want from a bunch of nomad, no place to call home, fuckers that have come to my town?”
“Hey, hey, hey, homeless peeps are useful. Don’t knock it till you try it,” Trapper jokes as if he doesn’t have a care in the world.
“Shut the hell up, Trapper,” X warns. “Look, I have a woman from my past. Heard she was here. We want a meal, sleep, and tomorrow, if I don’t find her, we ride on. You have less than twenty-four hours to deal with us.”
Well, that’s more information than I ever planned to give the guys, but Spook seems to be thinking it over.
“Twenty-four hours. You got till nine tomorrow night to get the fuck outta my town and don’t look back. I get each of your numbers, and I get a marker. One marker, anytime, no matter what I need. I call; you answer. No questions.”
I nod my head in agreement as do Deacon, X, Judge, Rowdy, and finally Trapper.
We may have just made a deal with the devil himself, but it doesn’t matter. Hadley’s in deep, and X needs to sort this part of his past out. This is what we do.