Page 12 of Coveted By Cupid

Picking an old brick municipal building downtown gave my bar an industrial feel that fit our MC’s aesthetics and gave us an edgy vibe in the historic district, helping us stand out amongst the competition. Good food and strong drinks made Whiskey Wheelers a local favorite and a profitable side gig. It also helps with washing funds from our gun smuggling, making every transaction we do harder to trace.

As my bar grew in popularity, my wallet got fatter, allowing me to buy up the surrounding buildings to expand our growing club. Though we’re still in the renovation stage of most of the newly purchased building, the bar and sleeping quarters for our crew are done. With our club consuming the entire city block, it keeps outsiders from seeing when and how weapons are brought in and shipped out.

I line my hog up along the curb besides my brothers’ bikes before heading inside. I pass through the front of the restaurant and bar, ignoring the stares of patrons eyeing me nervously as they eat and enjoy their happy hour. The leather cut with the Royal Bastards patches has that effect on most unaffiliated with our crew.

After having a quick word with Cigs—my bar manager and one of our longest-running RBMC brothers—checking in to make sure all is well with the restaurant and customers, I follow the narrow hallway past the restrooms and kitchen to the back stairwell. I head upstairs where my office and the RBMC private bar are located. It’s where we run most of our club business and church meetings. The third floor is my private apartment, my comfortable sanctuary to retreat to.

A few of my brothers greet me as I enter the bar, enjoying the end of the day with a stiff drink. I nod, acknowledging them before scanning the room for Oaks. When he spots me, he gives Marlene a quick peck goodbye before following me into my office.

He huffs his annoyance, closing the door behind us. “About time you showed your ass around here. The Durango chapter is waiting for your virtual invite.”

Rolling my eyes, I open my laptop. “Get off my nuts, will you? I’m not over ten minutes late. I wanted to make sure all was well on the ground level with Cigs first.”

Oaks taps at his watch, giving me a pointed look. “Still late. And let’s be real. Cigs isn’t the one that held you up. I hope the pussy was worth getting your ass chewed out by Rock.”

With a grimace, I type on my laptop, setting up the meeting invite. “I didn’t get any. She got away.”

My friend stares at me in silence for a hard second before bursting into a fit of laughter loud enough to make my ears ring. “Bawhahah! For real?! Oh, that’s too fucking good.”

As I send the invite to Rock, I give Oaks the bird. “Asshole.”

“The fuck did you call me, Cupid?!”

Ah shit. I didn’t realize Rock had already accepted my invitation to the virtual meeting.

Clearly, Vanessa is messing with my head. I keep stepping in it today.

“Not you, Rock,” I say quickly, hoping to avoid a confrontation. “I was referring to Oaks.”

Oaks pops his head over my shoulder to get on camera. “Don’t mind his ornery ass. He’s just bent about a woman out riding him.”

Rock snorts. “You let a girl beat you on a bike?”

“You had to be there. She was a terror on two wheels,” I say, defending myself.

“Sounds like a woman worth pursuing,” Rock says, amused.

I nod, agreeing. “I’m working on it.”

“Speaking of work…” Rock talks logistics for moving the weapons from Durango to Loveland. The operation is fairly simple, and one we have done many times before.

“Sounds like a plan. When should we expect the shipment?”

“Friday evening. We’ll bring the goods in a liquor distributor truck. Do you want us to pull around the back of your bar like we did before?”

“Yeah, the alley has no city cameras, unlike the main road.”

“Fair enough. Best to avoid those.”

“Do we have a buyer lined up, or should I be reaching out to Kodiak at the Helena chapter like we did last time?”

“We have a buyer. Some mafia don in Denver—Piero Bianchi.”

I frown. “We’re bartering with the Bianchi mod now?”

“Jameson approved it,” Rock says, shrugging. “I guess the young don is all about forming good business relationships with local bikers. Word on the street is he’s tight with one MC here in Colorado, referring to them as family.”

Interesting.