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There were at least a dozen acres of cleared field and beyond that lay a thick buffer of wooded land. Three buildings were clustered fairly close together in the clearing: the very large clubhouse, where all the noise was coming from; behind it was a dormitory type building that had two wings extending past the main section, and towards the left of both those buildings sat a smaller wooden structure. On the front of that last building sat a beautifully carved sign displaying the Rod of Asclepius— the universal sign of medicine.
Beyond the buildings was a sloped area which plateaued out to a massive and artfully arranged masonry brick patio. In the center of the space was a huge fire pit. The area around the patio was filled with picnic tables and grills. There were dozens of portable banquet tables set up, and they were bent and groaning under the weight of the enormous trays of food. Large clusters of beer kegs dotted the area, and numerous portable wet bars were set up at the end of the lengthy line of tables.
The area was teaming with club members and their women. They were all either standing in line for food, talking in groups, relaxing in Adirondack chairs, or making out on blankets near the rapidly growing bonfire.
The main clubhouse resembled a cold, forbidding bunker and sported an enormous symbol of the Hells Saints MC plastered on the front of the building. The intricately painted portrait of a broken-winged angel provided a compelling and eerie backdrop against the industrial concrete and steel construction.
A cluster of tall flagpoles stood off to one side and waved their banners proudly— Marine Corps, Army, Air Force, and Navy flags were hung from one pole while the American flag and the Hells Saints insignia were tied to another.
The entrance to the clubhouse boasted a double-wide metal door and was flanked by two men wearing prospect vests.Dolly had explained to Valentina that the leather vests that all club members wore were calledcuts. Evidently, the patches that were sewn onto them all had different meanings and significance.
Valentina had learned from Dolly that the ones that saidProspectwere club members on sort of a probation period, and from what Dolly had told her it was a pretty hard-core initiation process. Then there were the regional patches that showed which area each man was from and if they had special ranks, but even the rank system confused Valentina. So basically, Valentina was clueless about the world she was about to enter.
There were two men standing guard the wide entrance, and while one moved respectfully to open the door for Riker, the other guy eyed Valentina with a look that was the direct opposite. When she went to walk past him, he purposefully stood in her way. If Valentina was going to follow Riker and Gia into the clubhouse, she was going to have to deal with this guy.
“Excuse me,” she murmured. “I’d like to get by.”
“Kind of like you right where you are, bitch.” He crossed his arms and stood in front of her.
Bitch?Valentina was so stunned she stood frozen in place. No one had ever dared speak to her like that before. Her father would have had them killed on the spot.
“Prospect, stand down the fuck down.” Riker bellowed out from just inside the doorway.
With a low growl and a feral gleam in his eye, the man hesitated just long enough to scare the crap right out of Valentina, then he stepped out of her way.
“Insolent cocksucker.” Riker pulled Valentina through the door and just like that, Valentina found herself suddenly channeling Lewis Carroll’sAlice Throughthe Looking Glass.
This was not at all what she had expected.
While the exterior of the clubhouse conveyed a formidable and industrial impression, the interior looked anything but. It had a cool vibe to it without being over the top and seemed like it had gone through a recent renovation—maybe, the results of the blast?
The floor was made of smooth gray cement, and the walls appeared to be newly sheet-rocked and freshly painted in alternate colors of platinum and black. Deep cushioned leather couches lined the walls of the room, while pub tables and chairs filled up the middle area.
A polished concrete bar stretched down the side of the room and was fully stocked with what looked like top-shelf. That same heavy metal music blared out from several high-end sound bars while a half-dozen flat screens displayed sports events. Framed photographs and lithograph prints of vintage Harleys hung from the walls.
The whole vibe of the clubhouse was edgy, chill, and surprisingly upscale.
By contrast—the room was crowded with people who were definitelynotupscale or chill.
The women all had a sameness about them: no one rocked the biker-babe chic look that Valentina had come to identify the Winston sisters or Glory or Dolly by. These women all looked hard and a little mean. Their eyes glittered dangerously at each other as if they were all competing for the same prize.
The men.
They came in all shapes and sizes—thin and wiry, hard and muscular, or big and beer bellied. Some of their heads were shaved, some inked, some sported long hair twisted into man buns or ponytails.
Their ages ranged anywhere from early twenties to late sixties. The bikers all had a dangerous and compelling air—they carried themselves with a predatory swagger. With their back claps and their man hugs, these men brought a sense of kinship and unity to the atmosphere that was tribal. The geographical patches on their cuts told Valentina that the Saints had come together from across the country to celebrate the wedding of one of their own. The air was heavy with the synergistic energy of brotherhood.
“Wait here—righthere. If any of these assholes pulls any shit or tries to drag you off, you tell ‘em you’re here for Riker,” he ordered the two stunned girls before disappearing into the crowd.
“Did he just say if anyone tries todrag us off?” Valentina asked in a hushed tone as she looked around the crowd.
“Yeah, he did,” Gia whispered back huskily, then licked her lips and homed her eyes in on Riker’s retreating ass. “Wow. Just. Wow.”
Yeah, that’s one word for it,Valentina thought. But before she had a chance to offer up her opinion, Riker was back in a flash with refreshments. His large tattooed fist held a six pack of beer, and jacked up under his arm was a fifth of Tequila.
“Cuervo Gold, Killians Irish Red, and two smokin’ hot women.” Riker grinned. “Life don’t get much better. It’s hotter than a motherfucker in here, lets head outside.”
Valentina groaned inwardly at the thought of making her way through the crowded room and kept her eyes peeled for Hal. But she realized her chances of stumbling across him in this sea of badass and black leather was going to be much harder than she thought.
