Chapter One

Tracker

 

 

 

 

The night air was cool against my face as I sped through town toward a destination I wasn’t even sure I wanted to go. With every intersection, every roundabout, every set of lights, my gut twisted, telling me to turn around. To leave. Disappear and never come back.

The club I’d been a part of had been run by idiots who didn’t know their asses from their goddamn brains. They ran the club into the ground, eventually teaming up with some crazy idiots that tried to demolish the Deathstalkers MC.

They failed miserably.

And the handful of us who weren’t in on the plan woke up the next day to guns in our faces and an ultimatum.

Pledge our loyalty, or die.

There were five of us. Five who hadn’t tried to fight a battle there was no chance of winning. I wasn’t sure how many would come, but this club is established. They have their shit together, not like the bullshit organization we were conned into joining. Marcus, our now deceased president, was basically a glorified drug dealer.

The five of us met on the streets. In a way, we had formed our own crew, and we all joined the MC around the same time. Marcus offered us all cuts if we joined the club; no prospect time, no bitch work. It sounded too good to be true.

It was.

We went on runs, got a percentage of the take. We thought we had it good. It was enough to keep us comfortable and the work wasn’t too hard. After talking to the officers from the Deathstalkers, we realized that we’d been robbed. Coming here we will be taking home twice what we were before.

Rock, Colt, Storm, Gunner, and I are getting a new start.

This time I'm not letting anything fuck it up.

The problem is that, as much as I wanted a new start, I sure as hell didn't want it in this town.

The moment I turned eighteen, I ran.

I ran as far and as fast as I could.

I ran to achieve the freedom I always wanted.

I also ran from her.

She was the only person in my life who had ever made me feel something. Some might have thought I should have held on to that. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t take the chance that she would turn out to be like every other person in my life.

I tried to push her away, but she had this intense energy that pulled me to her.

I should have listened to my first instinct though and stayed far away from her.

I pull up to the clubhouse, slowing down to weave through the ton of bikes parked in the car park. That makes sense. They said there would be church once we arrived so that the rules could be stated and we knew what would be expected of us.

Getting off my bike, I look around at what is supposed to be my new home. “You guys ready for this?”

I glance at the only men I have let myself count on for the past seven years.

“Already looking better than that dump we called a clubhouse,” Rock says, climbing off his bike.

The doors open and the pres and VP come walking toward us. Handshakes are exchanged before the pres takes a couple steps back. “Welcome. The brothers are waiting in church. Follow me.”

They turn and we walk behind them. The clubhouse is large and open, tables are scattered around a bar that lines one wall, and half-dressed women smile at me from the couple couches and chairs placed in the middle of the room. There are even two pool tables in one corner, balls still on the table, cues tossed to one side as if something happened mid-game.

We walk down a hallway and end up at a large room. There is a large oval table lined with chairs, those chairs occupied by men who look anything but inviting. Their hard faces study us as if we have come somewhere that we aren’t welcome.

All eyes are on us, but I learned long ago never to show you’re intimated. It makes you look weak.

And in this life, you never want people to see your weaknesses.

“Have a seat and we’ll get started.” Pres takes his seat at the head of the table and a silence falls over the room.

He stands tall, from the way the men immediately quiet I can tell that he has their respect. None of us respected Marcus, we did what we were told because we were supposed to. “Brothers, meet the new recruits. Lucky for them, they made the right decision and have decided to join us.” He looks at us. “You’re on probation, all of you. We have cuts. A month with no incidents, you’ll get your names on them, but make no mistake, you are brothers as of now.” He jabs at the table, his eyes sweeping over every one of us. “That means that you are bound by the rules of this club.”

I nod, seeing the other guys do the same out of the corner of my eye. The silence is eerie. Our old president commanded respect, but this . . .

This was another level.

“You do whatever job you’re assigned, no bitching, no negotiation. You need to crash, there are rooms here, but the upstairs rooms are off-limits. Don’t know what you’re used to, but ’round here we respect our women. “Club girls,” he jerked his head toward the door, “most will do what you ask, but you do not fuck with them. Don’t know what you’re used to, but ’round here no means no, anyone’s got a problem with that feel free to make an appointment with Cutter here.” A man in the chair to his left shifted, catching my attention. “The old ladies are to be respected. You find a girl you want to keep around, you’re more than welcome to claim her.”

He leans back in his chair, hands behind his head, fingers laced. It’s a relaxed pose but I know his reputation and I’m not fooled.

Not for one minute.

“We just had guys get back from a run so it’ll be a few days before the next. The officers will give you any assignments you might have as of now. Any questions, ask. Just know that you'll be watched.” He looks around the room. “This is your family now. Respect it.”

The gavel bangs on the table and the men get up, filing slowly from the room, speaking in hushed tones low enough not to be heard. Pres walks over, handing us each a cut. “Wear this with pride and don’t fuck it up. We’ll be having a party this weekend to celebrate.”

One of the officers comes walking up to me. He was the one Pres referenced and his face seems a bit more accepting than the other brothers. “Name’s Cutter.” He offers his hand and I shake it, noticing the patch on his cut that says “Treasurer.”

He follows my gaze. “Pres said you had this title at the old club?”

I did, but considering Marcus was hiding most of the money, I don’t think the position was ever really mine. “Yeah.”

“Okay, I’ve been keeping up with the legitimate businesses.”

I try to rein in my shock but he catches it.

“Yeah, that’s right, we’ve got legit stuff. Problem is, it’s too much and I don’t have the education for it. We need a professional. You’re gonna head out here.” He hands me a card, pointing at the address. I turn the card over in my hands. It’s a fancy one. “Heard they don’t mind cutting some corners and fudging some numbers for the right price. You need time to get settled?”

“No.” I left most of my crap at the old clubhouse. Wasn’t worth the effort to bring it with me.

He lifts his chin. “Owner is expecting you. Good to have you here, brother.” He claps me on the back and walks out of the room. My shoulders drop slightly. I hope the rest of the men will be as accepting as Cutter, but I highly doubt it.

I’m barely out of the room when Colt is on me. “What was all that? You already get yourself in trouble?”

“Nope, got an assignment. See you later.”

I walk out to my bike, feeling good that I’ve already been given a role. There’s a chance this is some sort of test; that they think I will fail so they’ve set me up. Just means I have to make sure this goes smooth.

Hopefully I don’t run into the one woman who could put all of it in jeopardy.