Maci snickers and adds an eye roll for effect. A couple of brothers chuckle and a smirk tugs at my lips before my gaze sweeps my members.
“Kings, respect our patch and the patches of other clubs. Never leave a brother alone. If a brother gets piss-ass drunk, help him back to camp and make sure he doesn’t start any fights on the way there. If you get arrested, call Jake, and we’ll get you bailed out as soon as we can. And the most important, brothers… ride hard or stay the fuck home.”
Hoots, cheers, and fists pounding the table tell me they’re ready for shit to get wild. The chatter of their voices rise, and we get back to enjoying each other’s company and our food. I’m busy talking to Dom about the events I want him to see when Jake calls my name, his tone anxious.
My attention turns to him, and he tilts his head toward the front door of the clubhouse. As quickly as I see my ex, Angela, standing in front of the door, I see Liz charging toward her.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing coming in here?”
Jake is out of his seat, rushing to Liz’s side.
Angela throws up her hands. “I don’t want any trouble, Liz.”
“Get the fuck out! You’re not welcome!”
“What the fuck does she want now?” I growl. The wooden chair scrapes the floor beneath me as I rise from my seat.
“Handle it, brother,” I hear Max say behind me. “Before Liz gouges her eyes out.”
“Baby, leave her in one piece, at least until Nix hears what she has to say.”
“I don’t give a shit what she has to say. Take your skank ass back out the door before I shove you out!”
“She’s right. You’re not welcome in the Kings clubhouse.” Standing next to Liz, I brush my hand over her shoulder, calming her. Jake already has a hand around her waist, in case he has to hold her back from clawing at Angela’s face. “I don’t care what you have to say or what trouble you’re in. You need to leave, now.”
“Fine, I’ll go,” she drags out with frustration. Turning away from us, she stretches her arm out for the door. Before opening it, she looks back. “I’m not with Rex anymore. I want you to know that.”
Liz steps forward. “Out!”
Angela jumps at Liz’s bark, her reaction taking me by surprise. Angela was always confident, tough, one to give back what she got. Seeing her cower is an indication Rex beat it out of her.
Liz seems to sense the same thing I do, and her shoulders lower. The caring nurse in her switches on. She steps toward Angela to stop her, but Angela slips out, and Liz’s hand drops.
“Maybe I should go after her.”
Jake pulls her to him. “No, you shouldn’t. I don’t want you anywhere near her.”
“He’s right.” I stare down at my baby sister, meeting her gaze of mixed emotions. “She brings nothing but trouble. The kind I don’t want you or any Kings near.”
With his arms around Liz, Jake kisses her cheek. “Let it go, Peach. We have Liam to think about.”
Hearing that settles her. Returning to the table, Synne reaches out and touches Liz’s arm.
“You okay?”
Liz shakes her head and takes the seat next to Synne. Audrey scoots Liz’s plate over to her, and she puts up her hand, shaking her head no. She’s lost her appetite, and I understand why. Angela brings back a lot of bad memories for all of us.
Stepping closer, Jake lowers his voice. “What do you think she wanted?”
“Who the hell knows? She either had information to share or wanted a hideout. Either way, we’re not getting involved. She’ll only bring us problems and fuck up the plans we have.”
“She probably knows the answer we need.”
“Probably, but we’re not getting it from her.”
“No, we’re not,” Jake agrees.
Patting him on the back, I gesture toward the table. “Let’s get back to dinner. We’ll talk more after the women leave.”
The club members know not to ask questions yet. Once the women clean up and head home, we enter the privacy of the courtroom.
Wesley lights a cigar and leans back in his chair. Looking at me, he speaks up first. “Any idea why Angela came to visit?”
“I don’t, and every reason I come up with isn’t good for the club. She says she’s not with Rex anymore. She likely wanted a safe place to stay or had information she thought she could give in exchange for something. I have no doubt Rex put a tail on her. We can’t be seen associating with her. Her coming here tonight puts us at risk if they’re watching her.”
Tipping his beer back, Trevor is deep in thought. “You think we should continue with our plans?”
“I do.”
Axel, my road captain, sets his phone on the table and points to it. “My resource came through. He’s waiting on my call for pickup. Guns, explosives, all of it.”
“Call him. We move forward.” My gaze lands on each club member. “I need all of you tonight. Dom, Ink, you too.”
Dom raps the table. “I’m in.”
Ink nods in agreement. “I’m in too, brother.”
* * *
The sound of seven Harleys and a pickup truck rumble down the dark, desolate road. It’s two in the morning, and all the nine-to-fivers are sound asleep in their beds. Leaving town, we cruise down the freeway into the commercial district, warehouses and parking lots taking the place of cozy homes. Given directions by the seller, we turn onto an unlit road, then another before reaching a fenced parking lot. On the other side is a black van. Two men in dark work uniforms open the gate for us.
Entering the parking lot, I take notice of the moving trucks. It seems like an obvious way to transport illegal items. I guess obvious isn’t that obvious. Axel steps off his Harley and approaches a man in black slacks and a black button-up shirt, a firearm attached to his hip, visible for us to see.
“Axel?”
“Mr. Galloni?”
Both men nod and shake hands. Axel points to me.
“My president, Nix.”
Shaking the man’s hand, I take note of his confident stature and strong grip. Brown intelligent eyes look me over.
“Thank you for your business, Nix.” Pointing to the van behind him, he gestures for me to follow. “I have the goods you requested if you’d like to examine them.”
“I would. Thank you.”
Following him, Axel and Max flank each side of me, and the rest of my crew watch the other men and our surroundings.
Two of Galloni’s men open the van doors and step inside, using a crowbar to open one of the boxes. As I step into the van, Axel and Max place their hands on their guns and watch Galloni’s men closely. Looking inside, I examine the firearms and explosives. Taking a Glock out, I inspect the weapon, insert a magazine, and rack the gun. With operations intact, I drop the magazine and lower it back into the box. With everything we ordered accounted for, I step down from the van. The two men close up the box behind me.
“If your men are ready, we can transport the goods from our vehicle to yours,” Galloni tells me.
“I appreciate your business and your confidentiality.” Pointing behind him, Max holds out a bag. One of Galloni’s men takes the bag, places it on the ground, checking the contents.
“There’s more than requested,” the man tells his boss.
Galloni looks to me for an explanation.
“There’s extra compensation to forget this transaction ever happened.”
Galloni’s lip curls into a satisfied smile. “Pleasure doing business with you, Nix. If you’re ever in need of my services again, I’ll do my best to accommodate you.”
“I’ll keep your number.”
Behind us, his men load the large box into our truck trailer. With my Custom Ride trailer, it won’t look unusual to have seven riders alongside it. To the law, we’re a bunch of bikers traveling to an event. Back at the clubhouse, we’re quick to unload the equipment and reload it into our gear for bike week. Once we’re finished, I approach Dominic, who’s sitting atop his
bike finishing a text. He pockets the phone and gives me his attention.
“You good with your role in this?”
Leaning back on the seat, he relaxes his arms over his chest.
“It isn’t a secret anymore in the club that I come with a certain set of skills. You chose the right man for the job.”
Reaching out, I tap his shoulder.
“We’ve already voted. You’re in. By the end of the week, you’ll have a member patch to replace this prospect one.”
The corner of his mouth pulls back.
“I’ll wear it with honor.”
“I know you will. It’s good to have you and Erika here with us.”
Dominic dips his chin.
“I appreciate you welcoming us in.”
“It’s where you both belong. Now, get your ass home to that sweet woman.”
Dominic fires up the engine of his ride, taking off into the dark, quiet night while I climb atop mine. Behind me, my club officers follow me home, ensuring my back is covered before they travel home.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
NIX
Rolling into the outskirts of Full Throttle, we find and set up our camp. There’s an excited buzz in the air from the sounds of revving engines, music, and the scent of fried food, luring us to the main drag. Not wasting any time, Liz hops into my truck, and we lead the Custom Ride trailer through the back entrance, waving our blue vendor badge in the air as we pass the staff security. We stop at our location, the grass painted in yellow with our corresponding vendor number. My crew is quick to help me get the tent, banner, table, gear, and brochures set up while Jake and Max help me roll out the Reaper.
She’s my bike baby—hours of meticulous labor installing specialty parts and a killer paint job. Along the sleek curves of chrome is a black background beneath smoke gray art, depicting a death reaper with its sharp, steel scythe. Every other part that’s not sparkling chrome is stacked skulls with chains interconnecting their hollow eyes and mouths.
She’s a looker and draws the attention of many fellow bikers and has won me a good amount of money in past contests, which I hope she will again this week. Running a microfiber rag over her curves, ensuring there are no fingerprints or smudges, I stand back, admiring her beauty.
Synne approaches and draws my eyes. In tiny leather shorts, black chaps, a little black T-shirt with frayed shoulders, and her wild red hair flowing down over the sides of her full tits, I forget about my Reaper—because the only thing doing any thinking is my cock. It’s getting thick as my eyes drink her in and follow the lines of her lower abdomen down to the V-shape between her thighs. Without a property jacket, she’s going to draw attention—there’s no fucking doubt—and that irritates me, whether I like it or not.
“She’s smokin’ hot,” she purrs, her eyes coveting my ride. “You definitely have a chance of winning the badass bike competition.”
“That she is.” I’m staring at her and the curve of her back as she bends over to admire the details of the paint job… and fuck me, I’m not talking about the bike.
She stands and catches me staring. With the curve of her full lips, she dips her chin and follows it with a flirtatious wink. Chuckling, I tuck the rag into the back pocket of my jeans.
“I’m getting a beer. You want one?”
“Of course.”
“Walk with me. I’ll show ya around.”
Tipping my head at Liz and Jake, I let them know I’ll be back soon. The rest of my crew is pairing up to walk around and enjoy the activities. My prospect, Ink and old Wesley join me and Synne, ensuring my back’s protected. Putting my hand on the lower part of her back, I lead her to the beer tent where they’re tossing out koozies. We take a couple and slide them onto our beers. Leaving the tent, we pass a station where biker bunnies are in bikinis, offering free bike washes. Ignoring the jiggling tits headed my direction, I glance back at Ink, who’s enjoying the view, telling them he’ll be back around later.
We walk to the main drag, lined with hundreds of Harleys in all shapes, sizes, and colors—a biker’s paradise. Walking the stretch, we meander slowly, checking out the chrome lineup. Synne’s eyes expand, and I get a kick out of her hot ass showing so much enthusiasm. The woman’s a biker’s dream—gorgeous wrapped in leather and lace, badass, sassy, sweet, and has a passionate love for chrome.
Across the motorcycle row, I catch the familiar patch of the Wild Royals. Two of them, toting beers, with biker bunnies hanging on their arms in their lingerie outfits and overconfident expressions. My thoughts of Synne are swept away in an instant, the reminder of why I can’t be happy digging its claws into that coffin of longing I have buried deep. Shoving her into Ink’s arms, I nod my head toward the Wild Royals. Ink picks up my message and shoves his tongue into her mouth just as the Wild Royal members look our direction.
Swigging back my beer, I keep my gaze deadlocked on them. The shorter guy raises his hand and flicks me off. Inside, my rage boils, that song of vengeance a melody in my head and heart. Synne shoves Ink off her.
“What the fuck? I thought I’d made myself clear?”
She wipes her mouth, and I move in behind her, leaning into her ear.
“It was for show. Sorry.”
Walking away from her, I feel the guilt swelling in my gut, but I’d rather her be upset than dead.
Back at our vendor tent, I bury all my aggravating emotions with a couple more beers and get a comfortable buzz going as the sun warms the air. Sticking around the tent, I answer questions from potential clients and smile proudly at Liz and William as they help talk up the shop and my work. Synne arrives back at the tent with food for all of us. Pulling Ink aside, I put my hand on his shoulder and speak privately.
“I want you to keep an eye on Red when she’s not with us.”
“Done. Who’s gonna watch your back?”
I tilt my head to Max.
“He’s got me covered. Thanks, brother.”
“No worries.”
Ink, who got his name from the intricate black art covering most of his skin, turns on his heel and sits back in a chair, casually drinking a beer as he waits for Synne to pass around the hotdogs and sandwiches.
Jake takes up post next to me, keeping a protective eye on Liz and the group.
“Ran into the Royals already,” I tell him.
“Any altercations?”
“Nah, they were on the other side of bike row. I had to shove Red into Ink’s arms. The last thing I want is for them to think she’s with me.”
Jake angles his head, passing an empathetic expression my direction.
“I get it.” Tipping his beer back, he finishes it. “Soon, brother, soon.”
Later in the afternoon are the women’s motorcycle races. My crew helps me put Reaper in the trailer and prep the tent for our absence. None of us want to miss Synne performing in this race as she’s the first female to represent the Kings. We gather in a group on the wooden bleachers, leaning back with beers in our hands and our boots resting on the benches in front of us as the races start up. The first two women line up, one red bike, one white. One chick is covered in all red leather while the other is in white and light jeans. Surely, the race staff set it up that way. Some sort of angel verse devil concept. The bikes take off, and the red devil takes the lead and flies through the finish. As the crowd goes wild, I can’t help thinking the first race was set up for dramatic flair.
Two more races are completed before the recognizable green motorcycle and red hair rolls out. Our crew hoots and hollers their support. Revving her engine, Synne acknowledges it. A moment later, the flag drops, and she and her competitor leave dust in the wind. She finishes first, and several of us stand, shouting our praise.
All the winners move onto the next phase. Synne keeps taking the win until it gets down to four riders. She wins again, and it’s down to her and the red devil. The Kings are wild with excitement, eager to see her take the final win. My fist tightens around my beer bottle as I watch intently. She
glances our direction, dips her chin, then focuses on the raceway. The flag drops, and she and the red devil take off. They’re neck-to-neck for most of it, and I’m worried the red devil is holding back, about to take the lead, except it’s the opposite. Synne speeds forward and rides over the finish line, her fist in the air.
“Fuck, yes.” I stand and whistle, and my crew are just as thrilled. Leaving the bleachers, we work our way down to the raceway. When we reach her, she’s getting photos taken and given an award. With the photos finished, she moves into our circle, receiving pats on the back. Stepping up to me, she places her hands on either side of my face and kisses me, the energy of the race coming through her kiss like electricity. Between those lust-filled currents and my buzz, everything’s a blur around me. Squeezing her ass, I tug her against my body, my cock thickening as she pushes against the length of it.
The Kings catcall, their energy a circle around us, provoking us, feeding the electricity between the two of us. Pulling back, my lids feel hooded, my cock stretched and craving the feel of her. She turns around, pushing her barely covered ass into my dick, and wraps my arm around her. Leaving it there, I take a swig and lead my crew back to the festival, looking down at her with newfound pride.
Among the crowds of leather cuts and patches, my mind finds its way back to the cage it lives in. Removing my arm from her shoulder, I put distance between us. She notices but doesn’t make a fuss. Joining up with Liz, Audrey, Erika, and Maci, the five of them veer off in the direction of the women’s vendor tents. Jake and I glance at each other and lead the crew in the same direction, keeping a close eye on our women. We keep a comfortable distance, bullshitting and talking chrome as they shop.
A few patchless riders pass by the women, their eyes glued to their asses. One stops, puts an arm around Erika, and gets way too damn close. Dominic expands several inches, making his already massive frame look like the hulk. He moves in, bloodshed shining in his eyes. Jake puts an arm up, stopping him.
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