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“Hey man,” Ax said as he stepped out and placed his hand on Tempest’s hip. “You heard anything?”
“Haven’t really seen an officer,” he lied, tamping down his outrage to be sure Ax didn’t see his hurt. A skill acquired early in the Jensen household. Maybe it was a Scandinavian genetic trait. Nature verses nurture. Centuries of being a marauding Viking, numbing the culture to atrocities and allowing them to be a mellow group. Deep down, his inner Viking cried out, but he was only to be unleashed at the right time. The right place. And, for Mountain, the right reason.
On the main floor of the clubhouse, several of the other MC members were waiting with their women, finishing the breakfast that had been laid out.
Mountain quickly snagged some biscuits and bacon, so he wouldn’t be riding on an empty stomach. The smiles and contentment shared with the women and children added to the ache in his belly. He wanted that for himself someday. A family. He knew he could have it in an instant if any of the women had any idea about what he was worth financially. Hell, the vote today was going to up his portfolio by close to three quarters of a million before the interest started to kick in and interest on close to twenty million was more than enough to live a comfortable life. Only, no one really wanted to get to know him that well. Not even Free. All he’d done to win her approval was leave in disgust when the Roadkillers began discussing how they were going to rape her. He didn’t step in, didn’t choose to help stop whatever they were going to do. Maybe the Steels had good reason to keep him in prospect hell.
Today was their annual last ride for the year and Freaky, the newly voted Road Captain, was getting his first true test of the promises made when the position was floated. More than just the route, stops, and a party at the end, were all under Freaky’s twisted control. September was perfect for a crisp ride with a bit of color from the early turning leaves. Snow would be starting around the corner and they would have to put their bikes up for the winter. They would, he wouldn’t. It took a deep blizzard for him to put his baby away. His body was built for cold weather and he had no problem using it. The last thing he wanted was to be caged in a vehicle.
Red, the Prez, yelled out, “Alright everyone, let’s get this ride started. Everyone out to the bikes.” Red walked up to his woman Roadkill, her sunshine colored hair spilling out the back of the bandana she wore to keep it under control, and put his arm around her shoulder.
Their little girl, Harlow, getting a few kisses from the parents before being handed over to Red’s mom, Maggie. The grandmother would stay behind with Camille, Cream’s mother, to help get all the food ready for the bar-b-que later today when everyone returned from the ride.
A hundred or so miles today, the ride, along a scenic highway through Berrington, then to the interstate into Billings before they turned around and came back to Turnabout Creek where they all lived. Having been planned since last year, when they did the first fall ride of its kind. Even the town of Turnabout Creek would be coming out because baskets were going up for auction to raise money for community center and charter school the Steels were creating for kids in the small town.
Cinnamon, a newer girl working her way into being Hoez status, walked up to him. The stripper had been tapped for Hack’s bachelor party and made her way back to the club. Trusted to come along for the ride, she was in tight jeans and a tank. The leather coat she wore was a fire engine red in contrast to the black leather of the room. Rubbing along his side, her body making no bones about getting closer to him in whatever way he would allow.
He had no beef with the woman and she was good to spend time with on a lonely night. “You riding?” he asked, unsure if the woman had fulling integrated into the life yet.
“You offering?” she challenged as her hand slipped around his belly.
“Come on girl, let’s get to my bike. You ready for this?” Mountain put his arm over her shoulder and pulled her warm body in tight to his.
She nodded and smiled. “I’m ready and willing. Does this mean I get you for the whole day and night or just the ride?”
“We’ll have to see if you’re a good girl or not,” Mountain teased then felt her hand slip into his back pocket and squeeze.
Approaching his bike, he slipped away from Cinnamon’s hold, before swinging his leg over the soft leather seat. Tapping open his hard case saddle bag, he passed the woman a helmet then made himself comfortable, grabbing ahold of the handle bars and leaned forward. “Come on now, get on.”
Obviously, Cinnamon was used to riding on the motorcycles, she easily grabbed a hold of his shoulder and put her leg over the seat and slid in behind him. Tucking herself up tight to his body, she put her arms around his waist.
Mountain wasn’t big on helmets, the point was to experience the road. Feel the air and truly breathe. But when he took a passenger, he always made them wear one because it would keep them safe. Well, as safe as anyone was on a motorcycle. The only difference from wearing them during an accident would be if you wanted an open or closed casket.
Passengers were another story, maybe it was from their rescue side program where a quick get-away meant they might not have a vehicle, it became an unspoken rule. Men sitting on their bikes were a mix, but the women, all riding bitch had their helmets in place.
Cinnamon didn’t complain as she did as she was told like any of the Hoez. The easy get along personalities were the reason they stayed around to entertain all the men in the club. Whether on a pole at the Roadside Bar, their lap as a song played or in their bed.
As Prez and VP, Red and Baldy would lead the group. The first two motorcycles in the line-up angled toward the dirt road that cut through the compound. Red had Roadkill sitting tall behind him with her hands resting on his thighs.
Baldy, on the other hand, had his wife Lil’ Bit holding tight to his waist with her head resting between his shoulders.
Hollywood, the Sargent at Arms, lined up with his woman Free behind Baldy. Although his protective duty was to Red, the diagonal view was better to keep track of dangers ahead of the man.
Onyx, while only an enforcer, was to his right, with Topaz looping her fingers through his beltloops. Best friends for years, the men usually were in tandem. Years of police training between them, there was a trust given to Onyx over other men to have his back.
Filling in behind were the officers of the club. Cass with Lil Mama and Hack and Preacher Girl. The wives, like all claimed women, wearing their own version of the Steel MC cut, claiming they were the ‘Owner and operator of’their prospective men.
Mountain started his engine and moved to one of the last rows because of his prospect status. Knowing the pecking order and where he belonged, he shifted his shoulders. Taking in his tail-end status in line along with the other prospects Slug, Half Wit and Ax. Most of the bikes had two riders thanks to claimed women and Hoez, but there were a few with single men. Not wanting to be thankful for the woman on his back, but strangely Mountain was. Claimed or not he saw it as a sign he was an accepted member. Not as good as a full patch, but the best the man could ask for in the moment.
Idling engines roared as Red raised his right hand and circled three times. The rollout dusted up in front of him until they hit the paved road and it became a sight to see with all the motorcycles running in twos. Maybe the back of the pack wasn’t the worst place to be. In front of him, chrome reflected the sunlight making the whole pack glow on the black pavement.
Glancing to his right, Ax and Tempest, were riding to his side. A nod to Tempest earned him a wave and smile from the woman. Usually, the Hoez didn’t slum in with the prospects even if this ride was important and everyone wanted to be included. But Ax’s promise of a patch and promotion garnered him a certain level of respect and the man had a thrilled look to have a Hoez on the bike with him.
Cinnamon had been a girl he fucked a few times, but he noticed she was trying to place jump into his Ol Lady. If only he was interested in her that way. The woman was a good time, but nothing more than that. Her actions reminded him of the socialites when he was younger, sizing his father’s business against theirs, trying to determine if he would be worth the hassle. Could they stand to lay beneath him until their place was set? That was the one thing he agreed with Valter on when it came to women. Use, don’t be used. See the woman for who and what she was before investing more than a mild interest in the way their ass bounces.
The day was beautiful and warm as they maneuvered their way from the clubhouse into the town of Turnabout Creek. And onto to the highway once they cleared the town of Berrington, all being led by Red. A few bikes switched their spots in line which wasn’t unusual until they all were comfortable as they drove along and settled in for the long haul.
Up ahead, a mini-van was driving slower than pack. Red and Baldy signaled back to pass, then flipped on their blinker and they all passed it in the left lane.
