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“I thought you were on Cary’s strict diet this week,” Seth said.
I was.
Until, you know, it required getting up with the sun and taking a run.
A run.
Who the fuck went on runs?
Masochists, that’s who.
“He was. Until the food truck drove by us, and he ran after it,” Cary declared, smirking. “On the plus side, I’ve never seen him run that fast before. His heart was thanking him. Until he assaulted it with gravy fries and an onion blossom.”
What can I say?
I liked food.
I hated working out.
I only committed to Cary’s plan when I was getting a little too pudgy for my comfort.
Though, to be honest, experience has taught me that so long as you had good arms, chicks kinda dug a soft belly.
“So, anyone have any idea why Fallon wanted us all here?” Cary asked, looking around.
“What are you looking at me for?” Finn asked when everyone inevitably glanced in his direction.
“He’s your brother.”
“Which might mean something if we both still lived at home. But he’s off with a wife and kids and shit. I talk to him as often as you all do.”
Everyone was saved from more questions when Fallon’s bike rolled in a couple minutes later.
“Company?” Seth asked, looking at Brooks as he walked into the clubhouse, giving everyone a nod, since we’d all heard an extra engine.
“Fresh blood?” Nave asked, looking around. “Isn’t everyone who’s old enough in the club already?”
“Can’t all be legacy,” Voss said, shrugging.
Voss, Cary, and I were the few of the guys currently in the club who weren’t legacy kids.
But as much as I fucking hated to agree with Voss on any-fucking-thing, he was right. It wasn’t good for the club to all be legacy. There needed to be a balance.
Not two minutes later, the front door was opening, and Fallon was walking in with a guy I was pretty sure none of us had seen before on his heels.
Tall and wide-shouldered, he had the kind of carriage that came with a history in the military. His hair was dark brown, as was the slight beard on his face. But his eyes were an icy blue. Both arms were sporting black and gray ink.
If I had to guess, I’d say he was older than most of us, but younger than Cary.
“Good. Most of you are here,” Fallon said, looking at the lot of us. “This is Callow,” he introduced the new guy. “And he is going to be prospecting. Callow, Brooks here is in charge of prospects. For the time being, you’ll be bunking in the prospect room with Nave who just recently got into town too.”
“Too?” Seth asked. “You’re from here?”
“Originally, yeah. But I was an army brat, so we bounced around a lot. Haven’t been back in fifteen or so years.”
“What’d you get discharged for?” I asked, making Callow’s gaze move in my direction before shrugging and pulling up his pant leg.
Showing everyone his prosthetic.
“What would make you leap from military to outlaw biker?” Brooks asked, always the suspicious sort.
It hadn’t exactly escaped my notice that Brooks had been keeping an extra close eye on Nave and me since he’d gotten back, and some of the guys had noticed we had some history.
Which we shouldn’t have, since I wasn’t from the area like the rest of them.
But, well, Nave had his secrets. And it sure as shit wasn’t my place to spill them to his loved ones.
“Let’s just say that he knows a lot about guns and is very willing to use them,” Fallon answered for him. “So, yeah. Set him up. Take him out and get him laid. The usual shit. I got a date with the midwife,” he said, giving us a little two-finger salute, then heading out.
“So what is there even to do in this town for adults?” Callow asked.
Chaz’s.
That was what there was to do in town.
And, luckily, we’d gotten a full bar with lots of chicks to pick from.
All was going well.
Until some fucker started.
And, well, I didn’t typically start shit, but I always ended it.
I couldn’t even tell you why.
I was just wired different, I guess. Wrong, even, depending on who you were asking.
But when someone stepped to me, it was like an uncontrollable reflex, a knee-jerk reaction.
It was a fire that worked its way up my spine then around my chest, suffocating me until I acted on it.
Unfortunately for people who started shit with me, acting on it meant they got the ever-loving hell beat out of them.
“Enough,” Callow growled, shoving his hands into my chest, and slamming me back into a brick wall, making me aware that I hadn’t even noticed that the fight had moved from inside the bar to out front.
The knocking of the back of my skull into the unforgiving wall seemed to douse that fire inside.
“The fuck is the matter with you?” Callow asked, eyes squinting at me.
