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Decker chuckled, wiping the blood from his mouth.
“Fine, I’ll fuck your next girlfriend instead.”
Holding both middle fingers high, I say, “Good luck. I don’t date. Let’s go look inside.”
Chapter 1
Gambit
What a difference sixmonths makes. The stones on the building were solid. Industrial steel replaced the decorative stone banding and a band of vertical bricks. A black matte metal awning and black steel doors match the new windows with black metal rails in place of the normal white, finished with the exteriors’ remodel. The doors displayed our club's colors. A skull, smoking a joint, wearing a broad brimmed straw hat. The hat had a cane brake rattlesnake coiled around it.
I entered the security code onto the pad beside the door. A faint click sounded and the door unlocked. It pushed open easily, and I walked into the building, surveying the entrance area before shouting, “CHURCH IN TWENTY, MOTHER FUCKERS! DON’T BE LATE.”
I turned, a smile on my face and a swagger in my step, as I walked back to my hog. A 2016 Softail Slim S FLSS with olive and black paint in honor of my time in the military. The sound of boots scrambling behind me had me chuckling as I swung one long leg over my hog before re-tying my do-rag.
My girl started with a purr, and before a brother could catch up, my wheels were headed down the road. Knees in the breeze, wind whipping my braid behind me. Who’d have thought I’d go from buzz cut to hair down to my ass in three years’ time? It all started with a dare. A bet soon followed, and I’d lost. Nitro won and I couldn’t cut his hair for six months. By that time, it reached my shoulders. My obsession with keeping it buzzed had passed.
Club bitches and barflies loved it. Some piece of ass was always begging me to take my hair down so they could touch it. None of them did. I never let them. Didn’t want them fucking with it. It felt too intimate. Intimacy is not something I was looking for. A girl who can suck the chrome off a trailer hitch, yeah. A girl who wants love and kids. No fucking way. Not my bag. Never would be.
The twenty-five-minute drive took me eighteen. Pinky, one of the prospects, opened the gate for me. After parking in my spot, I head to the kitchen for a cup of coffee and some food. It’s fucking chaos in here. Half-dozen bunnies with their ass hanging out, tits barely covered and not a morsel in sight.
“Anyone make coffee?”
Six pairs of eyes looked at me.
“Seriously? What the fuck? If I paid any of you connasses, you’d have been fired a long fucking time ago. You’re supposed to take turns cooking and, for fuck’s sake, at least have coffee. HALF PINT!”
I stomped through the kitchen, and into the room we used for church. Fucking bunnies. Plopping down in my chair, I kick my boots up on the table, waiting for the rest of the brothers to file in. Half Pint comes running in the door.
“What do you need, Prez?”
“Food, coffee, and some quality pussy. All of which we are in short supply of. Go get coffee and food for church. Hurry the fuck up.”
Papa came in as the prospect hurried out to do his bidding. “Who lit his ass on fire?”
“I did. No coffee or food in the kitchen.”
