by L. Wilder
“I’m good with going to Neil’s to see him tonight,” Rider told her. “With the crowd that’ll be at the Smoking Gun, it’s not like they’ll miss us.”
“I know, but I don’t want to disappoint Riley.”
“I already talked to Murphy. It’s all good, babe.”
Looking relieved, she smiled and said, “Good. I just wanted to be sure.”
“What’s the big deal with the Smoking Gun anyway?”
Rider turned to me as he explained, “Riley and the owner of the bar, Grady, are first cousins and best friends, and he’s having some big shindig tonight for the playoffs. I’m kind of glad we decided not to go. I wasn’t looking forward to fighting that crowd.”
“Okay, then I guess it’s about time for us to head over to Neil’s. Brannon’s show starts at eight,” Darcy said.
Taking our cue, Rider and I got up and followed her outside to our bikes. I waited as she got settled behind him, then we both fired up our engines and headed downtown. As we made our way towards Neil’s bar, I was feeling pretty good about things in my life, and I found myself thinking of the day Viper had come to me about leaving Nashville and staying with Satan’s Fury. I couldn’t blame him for wanting to get me out of town. I was a ticking time-bomb. Every time something didn’t go my way, I’d blow up and do something stupid—get into a fight or be laid-out drunk. When I landed myself in trouble with the law again, my mother freaked out and called Viper for help.
I knew the second I walked out of that jailhouse and found him standing in the parking lot he was pissed. I wasn’t surprised. I’d fucked up once again, and he was the one who’d pick up the pieces so my mother wouldn’t have to.
Once we were inside his truck, Viper turned to me with a fierce expression. “This shit has got to stop, Clay.”