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As annoyed as I am, I keep going. Being a biker in California has spoiled me. For most of my time out on the road, I’ve only run into rain a few times, and it’s always short, limited showers. I don’t know how others deal with being caught in rainstorms, especially those up North like the Deathstalkers MC or even the Reapers Rejects MC. I suppose not all of the Reapers Rejects have to deal with bad weather since one of their charters is in Las Vegas, the other is in Mexico, and the last is in Billings, Montana.
The traffic around the clubhouse is hustling and bustling, but the second I’m able to pull back into the alleyway around the club, I do. Luckily for us, there’s a covered area, so our bikes are protected from the weather.
I pull my bike up right next to Killer’s and pull off my helmet, resting it on the handlebars. God, it feels so nice to be back here. I wasn’t sure if I was going to feel good about being back in Los Angeles after having such a great time in Julian.
I get off my bike, grab my duffel bag, and then head into the club through the back door. Instead of going to greet everyone straight away, I head upstairs and walk back to my bedroom. It’s nothing too fancy considering I live in a clubhouse with multiple other men.
Brick went with me a couple of weeks ago, and we upgraded all of the old shit in my bedroom. It had been years since I bought a new mattress or got any sort of new furniture. While my bedroom isn’t overly large, it’s spacious enough to where I can have end tables on both sides of my queen-sized bed, an oversized dresser, and even an armchair in the corner of the room.
The same wooden floors that span throughout the clubhouse are in my bedroom, but I bought a light gray colored area rug to throw over it. My room was already painted a dark indigo blue, so I figured putting gray in here and having natural wood tones would look good. Luckily, it worked out. If it didn’t, I would’ve felt really fucking embarrassed.
My bedframe and headboard are made up of walnut-finished pine, as are my end tables. I’m not an interior designer, but I think for a single man, I did a pretty good job. A lot of the guys here don’t have rooms that look this well put together. They mainly rely on women in their lives to do that sort of shit, whereas I can take all the credit for this one.
I toss my duffel bag on my mustard yellow armchair in the corner of the room and walk into my ensuite bathroom. It’s nothing special. There’s just enough room for a standing shower, toilet, and sink. Luckily for me, I had enough space to add a small pantry sort of thing where I could keep my towels tucked away.
I leave my bedroom and shut the door behind me. I didn’t come across anyone when I came in, so my guess is they’re downstairs under the bar portion of the building in our actual clubhouse. The bar is called The Clubhouse too, which can get a little bit confusing. We just try to monetize on the fact that tourists want to show up at a big bad biker bar and spend a lot of their money.
It takes me a couple of minutes to get down there, and just as I thought, almost all of the brothers are here.
Armor gives me a chin lift, and that’s my cue to walk on over to him. I head across the room, quietly saying my hellos to my other brothers in the process. Armor’s sitting on a black leather sofa, so I plop down beside him and sigh. “Man, it’s good to be back home.”
“How was your trip?”
I’m not sure how much information I want to give Armor just yet, so I keep it simple. “It was good. My parents had a blast, so I guess the party was a success.”
“Great. That’s why I didn’t want to bother you while you were away. Now that you’re back, I don’t mind pestering you with this shit.”
What the fuck did Armor do? The fact he didn’t want to bother me while I was away meant something had happened, and from the looks of it, he kept it from me. Armor is the Road Captain for the club, but he has some things that he handles outside of the clubhouse. I’m wondering if this is club business or personal.
“You gonna tell me what happened or have me sit here wonderin’ all day?”
Armor chuckles lightly. “If you could guess what I’m about to tell you, then you should be playin’ the lottery.”
“Bet.”
“You know I’ve been hiring some men to act on behalf of me when I’m rescuing the kids.” Armor’s been buying children out of trafficking situations and sending them up to our allies, the Reapers Rejects MC, at their clubhouse in Billings. In some cases, our working together helps them reunite the kids with their families, but in others, we’re able to place the children with good people where they won’t have to suffer. If it weren’t for Armor, those children likely be in horrible situations.
“I didn’t, actually. So, what happened? I imagine it isn’t anything good.”
Armor releases a huff. “You’d be right about that. A couple of my guys got jumped the other day. They were told that they knew who their boss was and how no new deals were being made with me.”
“You’re fuckin’ kidding me!” I let my voice get a little louder than I wanted, and Breaker, my Prez, comes walking on over.
“Kidding about what?” Breaker asks.
“I just told Sarge about what happened the other night,” Armor fills him in.
“Mmm, I see,” Breaker comments.
“Why didn’t any of you call me and let me know what was up? Hell, was this before I checked in the night I arrived in Julian or after?” I look between Armor and Breaker as I await an answer.
“Brother, you went away for your parents’ anniversary. I wasn’t gonna call you home for something when we had more than enough people here,” Breaker replies, which tells me everything I need to know. This happened before I checked in with them, and they chose to keep it from me until now.
“I’m respectfully saying that’s bullshit. You could have at least told me what was going on.” I’m looking right into my Prez’s eyes as I tell him this.
“Yeah, and if I did, you would’ve rode right back here. I know you well, Sarge, and if anyone deserved a break away for a couple of days, it’s you.” Breaker’s adamant in trying to support why he kept this from me, but I’m still aggravated. He might think he made the right choice, but I beg to differ.
“Has anything else happened since then? With any of the other people you do business with?” Armor’s the type who’s never going to stop until he runs out of money. He comes from a family of wealthy individuals and had a trust fund when he hit a certain age. He’s been using all of that money to get these kids out of horrible situations, and unbeknownst to him . . . the money his father was making was actually from selling the kids. He was behind it the entire time.
