“You used San Diego to take him down.”
“An ambassador’s daughter was stolen. We knew Alder was responsible, and knew he’d be heading down to the border. What we didn’t know was his routes, or where the girl was in the USA. We heard talk that he had a crossing point in San Diego, so Stormy was directed there to try to flush him out. Lost came up with the coded information. Once it was decoded, we had the location of the tunnel. From there, it was sussing out the likely date and arrival of the transport. The girl was one of the women Lost and his members freed and dropped off at the hospital, and the authorities contacted her folks.”
“From what I heard, it was lucky Alder was there that night.”
“There was a high chance he would be. The girl was too valuable to him. Not only was she young, pretty and would attract a nice sum on her own, the cartel wanted to send a message to the ambassador, her father, who’d crossed them. So it was important to Alder that she crossed the border safely. Stormy had listened into the MC’s communications that night—well,” I glance at him sheepishly, “we all had. That’s how he knew the girl was safe, and then he waited to take Alder out. Those were not his instructions,” I add hastily. “But he had a clear shot and couldn’t resist.”
“Lost was spitting mad. He’s not going to let it drop,” he warns me.
“He’ll never find out it was us,” I assure him.
“Why the fuck didn’t Stormy just sit back and let things play out? The girl was safe, that was his concern, not Alder.”
I half defend him. “The world’s a better place without someone like Alder in it.”
Road’s not appeased in the least. “It was Lost’s call how Alder was dispatched.”
I agree. “Stormy’s got trust issues. I don’t think he even trusts us.”
To get off the subject and onto something else, I show Road a little more of our capabilities, then notice the time. “You hungry?”
Road’s face lights up. Seems that he is.
As I expected, Cowboy has excelled himself with a three-course dinner for anyone who wanted to partake. There was an asparagus delicacy with some kind of cheese sauce to start with, filet mignon for the entrée, and key lime pie for dessert. Road’s eyes just about bulged out of his face as he ate.
“Christ,” he told me, as he cut into his steak, “this is like eating out at the Wheel Inn. That’s our restaurant in Tucson. You eat like this all the time?”
I grimace. “We do alright, but when Cowboy’s having a bad day, he goes to town.”
Road grimaces as he processes what I’ve said. He doesn’t ask questions, and I know it’s because Cowboy’s sad story has been shared.
At last all the knives, forks and spoons are put down. Igor and Brute start collecting the dirty plates, and Snatcher stands.
“Heading out now,” he announces.
“Heading out, where?” Road asks, as he follows my lead and gets to his feet.
I grin. “The old clubhouse.”
Once again that deer in the headlights look appears on Road’s face, but he asks no verbal questions, just hoists his cut more comfortably on his shoulders and joins the rest of us as we leave the premises.
It’s just a mile ride to the clubhouse that Road will find more to his liking, or at least, somewhat more familiar. Leaving the new one under the eye of Gears in the comms room and our civilian caretaker for the night, we leave and travel back to the old warehouse on the outskirts of town.
It’s a rundown building hunched behind the large sign that denotes it as the Satan’s Devils Utah clubhouse, far different from the slip of card used to identify our new one, and which can be switched out to denote any business we want to be taken for at any time.
When we draw up and park in a line out front, Road is again wearing that expression that I see most on his face. He cocks an eyebrow as if to ask, really? But he backs his bike into its parking spot, switches off the engine and carefully dismounts.
“Your leg okay after yesterday?”
“I’ve strapped it up,” he replies, dismissively.
“This him?” Grinch stubs out a cigarette, grinding it into the ground with his boot. He eyes Road carefully, his expression unreadable. But I reckon they’ll get on like a house on fire, Road’s more old school than the rest of us.
I do the introductions. “Road, meet Grinch. Grinch, Road, Roadrunner.”
Road eyes the worn leather which rests on the older man’s shoulders. “Patched member?” He looks puzzled again and taps at his chin. “Pip mentioned your name, I assumed you were no longer with the MC. You weren’t in church.”
Grinch grins. “Nah, can’t be bothered with that shit, not unless it directly concerns us. We’ll attend if we’re needed.”
“Grinch, Goofy and Mystic keep up the pretence of the club,” I tell Road. “They’re fuckin’ good mechanics, but don’t get involved in our main business. They live here to maintain a presence. This is what the citizens see, and we deliver exactly what they expect of an MC.”
A look of enlightenment crosses Road’s face as if I’ve answered one of his questions.
“And what’s your trade?” Grinch queries.
“He rides bikes. Fast,” I answer for Road.
“Enduro racing,” Road explains.
Grinch’s eyes light up. “That Roadrunner?” When Road gives a self-deprecating shrug, Grinch holds out his hand and shake’s Road’s vigorously. “Fuckin’ impressive riding man. Shame you were taken out before lifting that trophy.” He raises his chin by means of salute. “Pleased as fuck to meet you. Hey, I might just fuckin’ have something right up your alley.” He nods my way. “Got a sweet deal the other day. Man wanted to swap it out for a tricked-up Harley.”
“Ah, yes,” I say, remembering. “The Kawasaki ZX14R.” The previous owner had scared himself on it and wanted something that didn’t have so much power.
“Yeah?” Road’s eyes light up.
“Yours if you need speed,” Grinch offers. “Take it for a spin sometime if you want.”
“Oh, I want,” Road tells him, his eyes sparkling. “One of the fastest fuckin’ bikes on the road. Riding position would suit a man of my size.”
I get the impression if I leave them together they’d be out here for hours. “Come on.” I nod toward the doorway. “I want a beer.”
Those seem to be magic words as Road raises his chin to Grinch, then wastes no time following me inside. Again he comes to a dead halt, pausing to take it all in.
As an MC clubhouse this place screams it’s the real deal. Christ knows when it last had a makeover. The interior is dark and dingy, not helped at all by the nicotine-stained ceiling and walls. Rock music is playing at a tolerable background level. Those who arrived before us, or who had not tarried outside, are already standing with beers in their hands, or queuing at the bar, shouting at Igor to get a fucking move on.
I frown as a group of giggling girls, regulars in from the city, immediately look over to see who’s entered, and their eyes, ignoring me, focus on Road, recognising him as fresh meat. One pushes past her companions and if I’m not mistaken, is already making a beeline directly toward him.
Forcing myself not to watch her progress, I work hard to suppress my irrational jealous instinct. Road will probably end up fucking one of them tonight, and he’s a free man so what should that matter? I’ve made no play for him, he’s shown no interest in me. He can get his rocks off where he likes.
Fuck, but that thought hurts. It’s a pain I can honestly say I’ve never felt before. Indigestion. That must be it. Too much good food this evening.
Hastily, I look around to see if the men who sometimes hang around the club hoping to have a chance to become a member might have turned up. If Road’s going to pair up, maybe I should find something, or someone, to take my mind off the thought. There are a couple talking to Goofy, but I’ll be damned if they come close to being my type. They hold no candle, not even a match, to the man at my side. Maybe I should make
a trip into town later, visit a bar.
“This is more like it.” Road rolls his shoulders, breathes the stale air in deeply, then glances at me and grins. “So this is where you all let down your hair. Not now, sweetheart.”
The last is said to the woman wearing a tight leather tank top and tight leather shorts which only just cover her ass. She’s had the audacity to put her hand on my… Road’s arm, but he’s firmly lifted it off.
“Later, perhaps?” she simpers, fluttering her eyelashes.
“Not tonight,” he replies in a tone that doesn’t encourage further overtures.
Immediately my mood lifts. I continue as though we hadn’t been interrupted. “Yes, we have parties here every week on Fridays and Saturdays. This is what the locals know of us, a club who lives for riding their bikes and partying hard.”
“The girls are hangarounds?”
I nod. “We get men too, men who like discussing bikes. That pair with Goofy? He did some work pimping their rides. We get the odd one wanting to join up as well.”
“Any get in?”
“Only if their background fits the club, or we see something in particular we like.”
“So you really are living your cover,” he says with an appreciative nod toward Snatcher who’s already got his arm around one of the girls.
“This is us, Road. Two sides of the same coin.”
He looks thoughtful at my reply.
“Road! Good to actually meet you, when you’re not looking like you’re going to throw up.”
Road spins around. “I know you.” He points his finger at Mystic. “You were at the airfield. And I can’t fuckin’ help it if I prefer my feet on the ground.” His words are offered with a good-natured grin.
“Yeah, I can understand that. I maintain the plane, keep it airworthy. Doesn’t mean I like to go up in it,” Mystic agrees, the two men seeming to bond over their fear of flying. “Goofy over there keeps the auto-shop busy with work.” He points the other member out.
We reach the bar, take a couple of beers, and Road downs half of his fast as though he needs it. When Grinch comes back inside and approaches Road, asking him about racing, I wander off, not wanting to monopolise my partner, and giving him a chance to make new friends. I’ve a feeling the three who live here are men more like the members Road left back in Tucson.
As in our more modern clubhouse, there’s also a pool table and gaming machines here, though admittedly they’re more battle-scarred, and I prevent myself thinking exactly what that pool table’s probably been used for. For a while I get lost in a shoot ‘em up battle, and then Bolt challenges me to a game of pool. I drink another beer, but that’s my limit. I learned long ago not to let my guard down. It’s not that I don’t trust my brothers, more that I don’t trust myself, especially with someone as tempting as Road around.
It’s been a while since I scored, and a long time, if ever, that I’ve felt such a pull toward a man. Losing my inhibitions might lead me to make a mistake I’d regret. Now Snatcher and Pip have asked Road to patch over, it could mean he’ll soon be a member of my club, and I don’t fuck on my own doorstep. I learned that lesson when I was in my first squad.
I have no problem having sex without emotion. But when I did let temptation overrule my head, it was unfortunately with a man who could not. In the end, I had to transfer to a different unit when he started watching my back to the extent of not watching others. I’d felt guilty, having left a man heartbroken which had never been my intent, but it wasn’t my fault he’d wanted more than I had to offer.
Since then I’ve been careful, and I’m only too well aware, seen through the bottom of too many bottles of beer, that most of the men around me, in desperation, I wouldn’t turn down. Restricting my alcohol intake is far safer.
I keep my eye on Road, just to make sure he’s enjoying himself and settling in. As I’d predicted, he seems to be getting on great with Grinch. Grinch is exactly what you’d think of if you tried to picture a biker. A long grey beard, a bald head, and a beer paunch hanging over the top of his jeans and an encyclopaedic knowledge of two-wheeled machines.
I’m not disappointed when I look around and spy Brenda, an older woman who sports a head of curly grey hair. As normal, Grinch is sneaking sideways glances at her. Why the hell they don’t get together, I’ll never know. For some reason they think they’re being discreet, but no one will be surprised when Grinch navigates her way sooner or later, then, both will disappear.
There must be a dozen girls and women who’ve turned up, all happy to spend the night or just a few hours in the bed of a biker. I don’t have it in myself to blame them—sex with no strings and no recriminations—what could be better? Snatcher’s already disappeared with the one he targeted earlier, and my pool partner is chatting another up. Thor and Preacher are moving in, and ah, yes. There goes Grinch, heading Brenda’s way now, Road going with him.
Has Road got his eye on the girl who’s barely wearing any clothes standing next to Brenda? I wouldn’t be surprised. She couldn’t really make her assets more obvious.
I notice Road stumbles slightly on his way over and realise he’s tipsy, not surprising. Everyone’s been making sure he’s felt welcome by ensuring he’s had a drink in his hand all night. Even drunk sex, I suspect, with Road wouldn’t disappoint.
I’d like to fuck him and find out.
19
Swift…
But I can’t.
I can’t afford to make what would be a colossal mistake.
It does surprise me how much it would hurt if he were to show an interest in somebody else, and admit my earlier thought was wrong. I’m not suffering from Cowboy’s excellent cooking. Which is crazy. I have no grounds to be possessive. I’ve given him no clues I might be interested in him myself. Looking at it coldly, Road would just be one more dick. I’d hopefully have a good time, and then move on after. Certainly not worth staking a claim over.
I’m not interested. He’s likely to become a brother.
Sure, he’s pretty… Uh-uh. Is that another bitch heading his way? I pull myself up when I realise I’m taking a step which would put me right in her path and block her approach.
This is crazy. Maybe I am ill or something. Road can do what he likes, and who am I to prevent someone from having a good time with somebody else if I’m not making myself available?
I don’t give a damn who’s bed Road ends up in tonight.
I’m lying to myself. I want him in mine.
When I turn my back, knowing it’s safer for all concerned if I don’t watch, I can’t understand myself. I do not get jealous. When a man leaves my bed, he’s free to move on, and I don’t give him a second thought afterwards. Why do I have a feeling it would be different with Road, and that even if he weren’t my teammate, any liaison between us would be dangerous?
Unless he totally sucked in bed, I’d want to go back.
I sneak a peek behind me. A circle of girls has surrounded him now. I can’t take this. I can’t handle this burning feeling inside me. I turn away and walk over to the bar, asking Igor for a soda. Anything to keep my hands occupied and my mind focused elsewhere. I can’t bear to think of the lucky woman who soon will have Road’s hands all over her.
I hate myself for caring. Maybe I should leave and go home?
I might have a room back at the clubhouse but after I got my patch, I invested in a small property in town. It’s got all the features a deaf woman needs, just like I have at the club. It’s my home, my sanctuary, and there’s no reason not to feel safe there.
“Hey, washa doing on your own?”
“Road?” I spin around. My relief he’s here with me and not the scantily clad girl is immense.
It shouldn’t be.
His unsteady hand reaches out and touches my hair. As it’s short, he also ends up massaging my scalp. “So soft,” he murmurs appreciatively. “Why don’t yous and Is get to know each other, besher, babe?”
He’s playing with fire using th
e ‘babe’ word on me. Especially as I find I actually like it coming out of his mouth and my scalp is tingling where his fingers touched it.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Road.” I move his hand away.
“Awh, com’on. How about a kissh?”
I hear a loud intake of breath from behind the bar, and glancing that way, see Igor standing stiffly, poised as though ready to witness a fight.
“Not a good idea,” I repeat, softly. Road’s drunk, otherwise he’d never be coming on to me. “There are the hangarounds who’d love to give you some attention, Road.”
“Nah, I want the prettieessh girl in the room.” Again his hand reaches out to touch my face, and I prevent it reaching its destination.
“Not going to happen, Road,” I tell him, firmly.
“Awh, babe.” Swaying, he leans in perilously close and gives an exaggerated wink, pausing a little too long to open his eye again. I want to laugh as he’s actually adorable. “I can showsh you a good time, babe.” He tries to put his arm around me.
“Christ, he’s got some balls. Surprised you’re leaving them where they are.” Catching my eye, Thor winks at me.
I’ve surprised myself, too, that I’m not emasculating him for his overt advances and tell myself it’s because he’s drunk that I’ve got sympathy for him. But a circle of brothers is forming, and I narrow my eyes, suspecting soon they’ll be making bets on exactly how this is going to play out.
Abruptly, I step away, causing Road to crash against the bar, needing it to support him. I have to extricate myself from this situation and fast.
“No, Road,” I tell him, firmly. “It’s not going to happen. Igor?” I say to the very interested onlooker. “I’m off home. Tell Snatcher and Pip where I’ve gone, will you?”
Igor’s answering grin is a mile wide. “Sure… babe.”
I start to move but Preacher is there, holding me back, but it’s the prospect he addresses. “You show fuckin’ disrespect and you can kiss your fuckin’ future patch goodbye.”
Road Tripped: Satan's Devils MC Utah #1 Page 19