Outlaw MC: The Complete Boxset

by Ethan Egorov

“Nothing much. Except your kid brother being bold as all hell.” He laughs and hands me a beer. I twist off the cap and take a swig as I laugh.

  “Yeah, he does that.” I chuckle. Logan passes me a look with his cold green eyes. We haven’t really spoken since I left the last time and before that, things with the club were turning over when Tank left. Some people think it is because of what happened but they don’t know the whole story.

  “Did you know?” Logan asks me, and that explains the funny look he was giving me.

  “Not until everyone else did.” I answer.

  He nods once and wipes down the bar where someone left. I thought my brother would be working tonight but I guess he isn’t, I came straight here and haven’t seen him.

  “At least no one got in a fight. I mean, guys have been after Jeannine since she started wearing a bra, as shitty as that is. But you see where I’m coming from. Spencer just swooped in and that was it.” He laughs.

  I nod too, “Yeah, I was surprised. But my brother, he doesn’t follow rules and he’s reckless.”

  “So he really did it for love then?” Logan laughs like it’s unbelievable.

  “I mean, he risked the wrath of Tank for it so that’s got to say something.” I roll my eyes and drink more of my beer. It is just hard to believe that Spencer was even capable of that, we didn’t grow up with love in our lives at all. Now here he is, showing it off and going to visit her at college every few weeks, not running around on her. I mean I guess that I’m happy for him but it won’t stop me from being skeptical.

  “I guess so. Are you gonna call a meeting soon?” He asks.

  I sigh, scratching at my jaw. It would be my first as the pres technically. We had one with Tank and I was there, when he said he was passing it down to me and we had to take a vote. It was unanimous, which is nice and all, but it’s still pretty nerve racking to have the whole club on my shoulders.

  “Yeah, let me just get settled in first. Figure out what to do.” No one really knows about the stuff the other club was doing. Tank and I wanted to keep it under wraps so that it wouldn’t raise any panic, and no one would try to play the hero. I’m just not that inclined to tell everyone that there may be another war starting.

  I joined the club in the middle of the last one, it’s how I proved myself so fast and got to VP in less than two years.

  “Sounds good. Speaking of, here he comes.” Logan whistles and waves over my head. I turn to see my brother striding in, looking all settled with his cut and riding boots for his bike. He flashes his familiar grin and sits next to me.

  “I didn’t know you were back.” We shake hands and Logan gives him a beer.

  “Yeah, I just drove in. You trashed my house yet?” I chuckle.

  He gives me a funny look after drinking some of his beer.

  “I moved out when Jeannine went to college, you didn’t notice?”

  I shake my head, that all went down last summer and it’s been almost a year since he first got here. That’s why I have been in and out so much and I guess I haven’t really been paying attention.

  “Oh. I guess not. Well congrats on your own place.” I chuckle.

  “Yeah, it’s not even that great. Jeannine made everything purple and white. It’s like walking into a women’s fashion store every day.” He scoffs.

  I laugh at him and shake my head. “That’s what you get for shacking up.” I chuckle, I never even thought that he would be tied down before me, that either of us would be tied down at all. But here he is, all dopey eyed and shit.

  “Fuck off. You wish you were me. Imagine getting pussy any time you want and not having to worry about diseases and shit. It’s gold.” He drinks his beer over a smile and Logan and I laugh.

  “Well shit, now that you put it that way, I need to get started on that.” Logan chuckles.

  “I don’t think it’s that easy, but you have fun with that.” I retort.

  “Hey, as long as you’re not going for the wrong girl or you might end up with a shiner. Seriously, my jaw still hurts from Tank’s hit.” He grabs at his face and I just laugh at him. I remember him coming home beat up that night, and I was worried about a concussion so we went to the hospital. It wasn’t quite a hairline fracture but he had ice on it for days. That’s the Tank I know, but he didn’t know him when he first came around, hadn’t seen him in action when he was angry. So of course he did the one thing that would make him the angriest.

  I was worried about my place in the club after Spencer got with Jeannine, worried that Tank would be pissed and just get rid of us both. But he trusted me, knew me long enough to believe that I had no idea. But I’m not sure I would have sold my brother out, yeah, the club is all about brotherhood and everything but Spencer is my actual blood, I’d never have sold him out.

  “Speaking of, you have any plans now that you’re back?” Spencer claps my back in his annoying, prying way. He often pesters me about my sex life, it’s just how we are as brothers, now I can’t because he went and shacked up. But I was never one for relationships. I moved around too much and if that’s not the case, I only have room to care about one other person and that’s my brother. The rest is for a good time, nothing I have to work too hard for.

  “No. leave me be.”

  “Hey, I’m just glad I don’t live at your place anymore. It was fun while it lasted.”

  “Okay, have fun paying your own rent, dumbass.” I chuckle and finish my last beer. I should have another, just so I’ll get to sleep easier. I love my bike and being out in the open air but sometimes it just gets me too wired, hard to fall asleep after. That and being tied up with club business I can’t even tell anyone about yet. Tank was the last person I didn’t have to lie to, now he spends his days at home working on setting up his wife’s bakery. It’s a small town so I see him around sometimes, everyone else does too.

  “Yeah, I agree that’s not the best.”

  “Well I have to see it sometime. I’m… proud of you.” I rub his shoulder and he shrugs me off as we both laugh.

  “I couldn’t have done it without you though. The club.” That’s his way of saying thank you and I accept it.

  I finish up my beer and decide to head home. I like to clean up before I go to bed because I know I left the place a mess, so I should get going before I’m too tired. I see some of the other guys, Darius and Kit are my closest friends here at the club and I have known them the longest. Logan and I didn’t really get along until a few years ago or so, but needless to say I get along with everyone here. They’re the family I never had, growing up Spencer and I just had messed up foster families. So there is a lot of pressure to keep the place from being swallowed up by a rival gang.

  I say my goodbyes and start heading home, a little upset that Spencer put ideas in my head. I mean it would be nice to find a way to destress but the process of reminding the women whose numbers I bothered keeping, that coming over doesn’t mean I want to be tied down, is more annoying and not worth the trouble.

  I speed up on the long route after the highway, my favorite part of the route because of the twists and turns that take my bike to the limit. I upgraded it and it has more thrusters, a bit more horsepower, it’s my greatest possession besides my house. All those nice thoughts go away though, when I hear the sound of sirens and see bright red and blue lights in my mirror.

  “Fuck,” I murmur and slow the bike. I was barely speeding, but cops in this town are known to come after us for no reason. I peel off the side of the road and come to a complete stop. I lean to the side and get my license ready, just so I don’t have to interact with the officer too long.

  I don’t hate cops, but I am painfully aware of how much they can mess up a life just because they can.

  “Is there a problem officer?” I look up a bit, I can barely see him behind the bright light he shines in my face. I scrunch up my eyes but it doesn’t help at all.

  “Have you been drinking tonight?”

  I roll my eyes, shit, “A couple beers. I
’m not drunk.”

  “You were speeding. Why don’t you go ahead and get off the bike for me sir.” He steps back and lowers the light enough for me to see his hard, grim face.

  I want to say that isn’t necessary but I don’t necessarily want to get shot or something either. So I get off the bike and he makes me walk a line and anything else he wants to bother me with.

  “Is this really necessary?” I ask when I get tired of being played.

  “I sense some hostility. Which doesn’t surprise me, considering.” He gestures to my cut and I scoff at him.

  “Come on—”

  He cuts me off by reaching for something and I immediately shut up, but it is still nerve wracking to know that he has so much control and can do whatever he wants. I don’t want to be volatile but this is a tricky situation. He clearly has a vendetta against the club, he isn’t the first, and there is nothing I can do about it now.

  “I’m taking you down to the station for questioning.”

  “You can’t do that if I’m not under arrest.” I charge back, and I wish I hadn’t said anything at all because that just makes him more upset.

  “You’re under arrest. Turn around.”

  There are about a million things I’d rather say to him, but none of them will keep me from being arrested or even worse. So I turn around, wince at the cold cuffs wrapping around my wrists. All I am thinking about is leaving my bike in the middle of the road, but once I get my phone call, I can at least take care of that. But not so much having a criminal record.

  He stuffs me in the back of his squad car and I fume the entire ride. I just got back from a long, grueling disagreement with a rival club that I am still unsure if it even worked. Now I am on my way to jail for god knows how long.

  It fucking sucks, but that’s my life as I know it.

  “Stand still please.” The bookie is a middle-aged woman with a hard face and droopy voice, like she’s permanently tired or something. I turn three ways for the photo and am tossed into a group cell with three other guys that don’t seem like trouble. In fact I look more like it with tattoos going up my neck and down my hands and a leather jacket with the club logo on it. I’m in there for a while before I even get to make a phone call, I decide between one of the guys at the club and my brother, I don’t want to look like a hypocrite in front of the other guys, or a pres. who can’t keep his shit together even if it is a trumped-up charge.

  “Who is this?”

  “Your brother.” I grumble, knowing I am going to hear it from him later.

  “No shit. Well isn’t this a turn of events? You know—”

  “Look, we can talk about this later. Can you bail me out or not?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

  “They said I gotta spend a night in here first.” I tell him.

  “Nah, that’s not true. You ask for a public defender yet?” He asks. I frown and look around.

  “No…”

  “Well get one. They can let me bail you out tonight and have a hearing tomorrow.” He explains, like some sort of law student.

  “Okay. Wait how do you know all this?” I ask, even though the guard is giving me the side eye. But I get my phone call, he can wait.

  “It’s not my first time. Also, television. They’ll get you another phone call too but I’m on my way.”

  “Thanks. See ya.” I hang up, taking a deep breath. I’m sure this could be a lot worse, but I’m lucky I have my brother on my side and everything.

  I turn to the guard, “I need a lawyer.” I say. He’s younger, maybe my age, but he clearly hates his job like most everyone else in this place.

  “Wait in holding.” He leads the way, I don’t have to be cuffed because they had sense enough to know that I’m not hostile, unlike the other cop that has it out for me.

  I am left back in the cell with the other guys, trying to breathe only when I absolutely need to because of the smell. It’s like this place never gets cleaned or anything and they don’t care. I’m afraid just sitting on the bench will give me a disease or something, I’m burning these jeans when I get home.

  I sit and twiddle my thumbs for I don’t know how long. I’m tired and fucking starving, I was waiting until I got home to eat and that was clearly a mistake. Now I’m stuck here, wishing this doesn’t turn into even worse of a situation.

  When I really start to lose it, a guard comes and gets me, takes me to this small room with a tiny silver table and matching chair.

  “You and your counsel have thirty minutes to discuss your case.” He says.

  “Thirty minutes?” I try and see into the small glass opening but can’t see who is inside.

  “Yep, I can’t tell you how many times people have asked me that.” He stands by the door and opens it. I frown, walking inside. But my frown soon falls.

  The lawyer sitting in the chair facing the door is a woman, a damn beautiful one at that. Her hair is this bright red that even under the yellow fluorescence, casts her in this glow. Her skin is pale, smooth, her face has small features but full, plump, kissable lips, which she’s biting on the lower one right now as she looks over the paper in front of her. The blue button up she has on strains against her breasts at the center, I glance under the table to see she is wearing a skirt and her legs are crossed, rounded thighs with the same pale and smooth skin she has. I realize I am standing here staring and she hasn’t looked up yet.

  “Hi there,” I find it in me to smirk and she still doesn’t look up. After all that’s happened today, the last thing I want to do is smile and be nice, but she makes my chest light. I breathe easier, even though this room also smells like burnt lemon and stale cheese.

  “Hi, we don’t have long so just take a seat and tell me what happened.” She flips the paper over and scribbles something, still not looking up at me yet.

  I frown, thinking it’s weird, and take a seat. I get close enough to her to see a light dusting of freckles on her nose and under her eyes. She has glasses, black rimmed librarian type and some of my thoughts stray to other things but I rein them back in.

  “Do you try not to look at all your clients?” I clear my throat. Her small hands stop moving and then she finally looks at me.

  “No I—” she stops, swallowing hard. I want to laugh because I’m not surprised at all, I get it a lot. I have a nice face; the tattooed biker thing just adds to it, which would explain the redness in her cheeks now, the way she starts biting at her lip again.

  “We um, don’t have much time. Just tell me your side of the story and your plea and we can move this along.” Her voice falters, a soft even tone that reminds me of honey falling off a spoon, except this one has red hair and smooth pale skin that makes my fingers itch.

  “I uh, was driving home when I got pulled over and the officer had me do a breathalyzer and some competency tests then he just decided to arrest me, basically.” I take a deep breath and rub at my eyes, leaning across the table. She tenses up and leans back in the seat, her eyes falling from mine to the paper.

  “Okay. That’s not exactly what the cop says happened.” She reads off the paper and I reach for it but she pulls it back.

  “What do you mean?” I lean forward. Her eyes catch mine again and she pauses a bit, her lips falling open.

  “I mean he says you attacked him, that he thought you were being hostile. So the official charge is still a DUI but the judge might give you the max because of what the cop said.” She explains.

  “That’s bullshit. I didn’t attack anyone,” I get defensive. She tenses up again and her eyes shift. It’s when I realize she does this all the time and has probably run into some violent people.

  “Look I’m not gonna hurt you. I’m not like these other guys you see coming in and out of here. I’m just pissed cause I know that he’s lying, he has it out for me. Thank you for helping me anyway.” I sit back and remind myself not to make sudden movements.

  She relaxes a bit, her lips going from a firm line to half smiling.


  “You’re welcome. I mean it’s my job. But if that’s the case then this might be a long road forward. The most I can do right now is get you out on bail. Are you pleading not guilty?” She asks.

  “Hell yeah.” I chuckle once.

  She half smiles and curls her lips in to hide it. “Okay, um, so that’s… good.” She shuffles her papers and gets shifty.

  “Are you new at this or something?” I ask her.

  She widens her eyes at me. “No. I’m not I just am um, a little nervous.”

  “Because you’re new at this?” I chuckle once.

  She shakes her head and half laughs but doesn’t mean it in a humorous way.

  “Sorry. It’s inappropriate for me to um—it’s nothing.” She adjusts her glasses and I stare in her warm blue eyes for a second, they’re like half gray or something too.

  “What’s nothing…?”

  “Paige Travers. Sorry, I guess we skipped that part.” She reaches out to shake my hand and I do, closing around her small, soft hand. I’d be stupid if I ignored how that felt, but I have to, when I pull away.

  “Roland Leighton.” My full name sounds foreign to even me, since everyone at the club calls me Rafe.

  “So um, unfortunately I can’t get you out on bail tonight but I’ll push for an early hearing tomorrow and I’m confident you can get out on bail. You have no priors and a clean record.”

  “Good. And the worst-case scenario?” I ask.

  She blinks and clears her throat. “People don’t usually ask that.”

  “I like to have all the information.” I try not to let my eyes rove over her body too much, because she seems uncomfortable, but I can’t help it. Her skin looks so smooth my mouth waters at it, her tits fighting the fabric of her shirt, she’s too pretty for my own good.

  “Well, the judge could deny bail. I really don’t see that happening though. And the cop could go on record, forcing the charges be added to, but no one wants that kind of paperwork. You’ll be fine.” She shrugs like it is nothing.

  I suppose for anyone else; it might be.

  But that cop clearly has it out for me and my club, and he has the law on his side.