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Rock chuckles. “Seemed like something you needed to experience for yourself.”
“Did Murphy tell the exercise band story?” Wrath asks with way too much glee.
“Yes, and you’re a monster for laughing at him.”
“I couldn’t help it.” He lifts his shoulders in an unapologetic shrug. “I helped him up off the floor. Eventually.”
Grinder throws me a questioning look.
“You don’t want to know,” I tell him.
Still laughing, I walk over to my bike and send Emily a text.
Me: At our first stop.
She responds right away.
Firecracker: Everyone okay? How’s Sparky doing?
God damn, I miss her. I smile at my phone screen like a sappy fool. I’d mentioned Sparky’s reluctance to go on this trip and she’d remembered. She’s even worried about him.
I don’t want to scar her for life by telling her about his squished nuts, though. That’s definitely more information than anyone needs.
Me: So far, so good.
Firecracker: I miss you.
Me: Miss you too.
Next trip I take, no matter where I’m going, I need her on the back of my bike.
I glance at the store again.
It should probably be a trip for just the two of us, though.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Dex
The last leg of our ride seemed to take forever. We linked up with our Virginia brothers and the ride went smoothly. It’s dusk by the time we’re finally rolling down the old country lane that leads to Deadbranch’s clubhouse. Some sort of black sheet is draped over the tall, barbed wire fence that surrounds the club’s property.
Someone left the metal gate open for us. The parking lot’s so full of Harleys and trucks, we end up having to park in spots scattered all over the lot.
I grab my pack, tuck my helmet under my arm, and meet up with my club.
“So fucking glad we’re finally here,” I say to Rock.
“Same.”
Considering how packed the parking lot is, it’s quiet as we approach the large brick building that was a distillery in a former life.
“Fuuck,” Wrath groans. “This is the one that has the fucking disgusting dorm bathroom, isn’t it?” he asks me in a low voice.
“Think so.”
“There’s a couple nice hotels not far from here,” Rooster says. “That’s where Shelby and I stayed.” He glances at Rock. “Priest stayed there too when he visited.” Rooster holds his hands up. “Just saying.”
“I’ll keep it in mind,” Rock says.
We run into Pony, the president of our Washington charter, first. Washington’s Rooster’s original charter, so he’s got more respect for Pony than the guy probably deserves.
“Look who we have,” Pony says. “Rock steady’s crew.”
Rock takes a deep breath and stares at the sky for a second or two. Over the years, Trinity’s the only person I’ve ever seen get away with any sort of Rock-related pun.
“Good to see you, Pony,” Rock says.
Our whole party stops to talk, embrace, and catch up with brothers we haven’t seen in a while. Finally, we push past the throng of brothers and enter the wide-open clubhouse. My boots thud against the concrete floor. Fuck, I want a shower and a bed in the worst way.
I scan the room. Lot of Deadbranch bottom rockers, naturally. Mississippi, Washington, Florida, Nomads. A few other local clubs, retired members. No bunnies or old ladies in sight.
Murphy steps up next to me and rests his hand on my shoulder, pulling me toward him. “I know it’s a funeral but something ain’t right.”
“Yeah, I’m getting that too.”
Rooster and Jigsaw join us.
“You see Squiggy anywhere?” Rooster asks.
Finally, I recognize Steer’s big bald head and wide shoulders. “I see Steer over by the snack bar.”
Rooster pulls out his phone and sends a text. A few minutes later, Steer’s headed our way. Z and the rest of his guys crowd around their former SAA.
“How was the ride?” he asks.
“That last leg was long.” Z stretches to one side.
“Gettin’ old, Prez?” Steer slaps his shoulder.
“What’s goin’ on?” Rooster asks.
Steer glances over one shoulder, then the other. “Priest’s gonna make this announcement soon anyway, so I might as well let you know now.”
Z frowns. “Know what?”
“Dashport Center revoked our permits to have the memorial service there.”
“What?” Z asks. “Why? I thought Priest had been working with law enforcement?”
“Law enforcement rescinded their cooperation. We think they leaned hard on Dashport to pull the plug.”
Fuck.
“So we just rode all this way to fuck spiders?” Grinder grumbles.
Steer casts an irritated glare at him. “This went down yesterday.”
“Still coulda sent me a text,” Z says.
“Priest still wants to meet with everyone.” Steer shrugs like he doesn’t give a shit about our gripes.
Guess all those years he spent wearing a New York rocker mean shit to him now.
Z glances my way and slightly tilts his head toward the entrance.
I glance over at Rock, Ice, and my other New York brothers. Z obviously wants me to slip away and give them a heads-up.
As if we can all read each other’s minds, Grinder and Z sort of form a wall in front of me, providing me with an escape.
