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Pushing his glasses up his nose, Gumby said, “We sticking together or splitting up?”
“Might have better luck if we’re not joined at the hip but try to remain within line of sight in case shit hits the fan.”
“Don’t fucking laugh, but we might want some kinda code word. You know, in case we’re near each other and you hear something that makes us need to haul ass outta there. Can’t just grab me and scream run. Little too obvious.”
With a chuckle that had a nervous quiver to it, Screw rubbed his beard again. “Not used to this thing yet. It’s itchy as fuck sometimes. All right, that sounds all Hollywood spy thriller, but not a bad thought. Any ideas?”
Well, besides a love of motorcycles and apparently each other’s dicks, what the hell did they have in common?
“Jazz?” They both said at the same time.
With a snicker, Screw said, “Jazz it is.”
After instructing them to make a left, the GPS announced they’d reached their destination. Gumby followed the vehicle in front of him, steering Screw’s truck through an open gate in a high chain-link fence which surrounded the property. Coiled at the top, what he guessed to be razor-sharp, barbed wire ran the length of the fence. Aside from that, security appeared pretty lax.
No guard at the gate.
Minimal outdoor lighting.
Zippo as far as cameras, at least along the fencing.
Good for them, fucking sucked for women attending these parties. It was a fucking predator’s dream.
“They got shit for security,” Screw said, craning his neck as they drove through the gate. Another car followed directly behind them.
“Just thinking the same thing.” Gumby turned right, then backed into a spot with easy access to the exit.
“Looks like a small warehouse, maybe what? Twenty years old?” Screw’s gaze raked over the building that had become the CDMC’s clubhouse.
“Yeah. Sounds about right. Look, there’s one guy at the door there. Fucking behemoth.”
Screw followed Gumby’s gaze. “Shit yeah, he might even have LJ beat. Big motherfucker. But I don’t see anyone else and who knows if he’ll stay there all night. Bet he gets bored and comes in to party.”
“You’re probably right. They seem unconcerned with security.” He pushed his glasses up his nose, catching Screw’s grin from the corner of his eye. “What?”
“Nothing.” Screw shrugged “The glasses are hot. Anyway, not sure if they’re arrogant assholes, just haven’t gotten to it yet, or if they’re convinced my club won’t come after them.”
Gumby blinked at the offhand compliment before glancing out his window. “Probably a bit of all three. That can’t be the only door. Priority one is to locate all the exits when we get in.”
“Agreed. You ready?” Screw asked as he tied his loose hair in a knot at the base of his skull.
Gumby looked at the man sitting beside him. The brave man who cared so deeply about his club yet had no idea how to handle that, or most of his emotions. The urge to kiss him rose so quick and sharp in Gumby, he almost couldn’t deny it, but the last thing they needed was to be seen making out in the parking lot. Not all clubs were as accepting of anything beyond heterosexuality as Screw’s.
“Let’s do it.” Prior to leaving for this party, they’d hung at the Handlers’ clubhouse until it was time to make their way here. Then, they’d begged off claiming hunger. Right now, Screw’s entire club believed they were out grabbing a pizza. Not a soul knew they were walking into enemy territory, unarmed and unprotected. Yes, they had a few weapons in the truck, but if shit went south, they’d have to make it to the vehicle to have any chance of fighting their way out.
A few others made their way toward the warehouse turned clubhouse as well. Mostly women, teetering on stilts with skirts barely covering their asses and tit-revealing tops. They must be cold as fuck. Ahead of them, a guy wearing a CDMC cut was waved through the door with an obvious pistol resting at the small of this back. Right behind him, the women were patted down with heavy groping hands.
They giggled and shimmied under the touch, seeming unaffected by the ‘accidental’ grabs of their tits and asses.
“So that’s how it’s gonna be,” Screw muttered under his breath as they waited for their turn to be frisked. “Bet every goddamned patched member in the place is armed.”
“Pretty safe bet.”
“The fuck are you?” The giant at the door asked, stepping in front of them so they had no chance of darting past him. Not that they wanted to start the night off on the wrong foot.
Patch on his chest read, Moose. Big as a house, the guy had a smooth head covered in tats, ear gauges, and a gold fucking tooth like some kind of B-movie mobster.
