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Maybe that was it. Not everyone deserved happiness. If that was the case, we were all doomed. The music may be loud, but I heard no laughter. Knew I wouldn’t.
The club was dead.
Only soulless brothers roamed.
Looking back at the clubhouse, I pulled another cigarette from my pack and tried to light it as the wind picked up, snuffing out my flame. Growling, I turned my back to the wind blowing across the plains and tried again. Seeing the red cherry at the end, I took a long drag, then lifted my head and blew the smoke from my lungs. Staring at the stars above, I noticed clouds off in the distance as the wind whipped again.
A chill accompanied it.
A warning.
Something was off. I couldn’t place it, almost as if the very wind around me was trying to tell me something. I had this feeling since we returned from Tennessee after helping the Golden Skulls take care of theSociety. Not that they really needed our help. It had been a long time since our club joined forces with another. The last time was something I never wanted to think about.
Some memories were better left forgotten, buried with the dead.
It felt good to get away for a while, but now that we were back, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was gearing up.
That danger was on the horizon.
The air was thick with tension. I couldn’t really explain it, but it reminded me of when the barometer rose right before a storm came rolling in, causing all kinds of destruction. Considering we lived in Southwestern Oklahoma near the Texas border, we were used to seeing our fair share of storms.
Something big was about to happen.
The sound of a vehicle pulling into the compound caught my attention. Knowing it was too damn late for a social visit meant this wasn’t going to be good news.
Visitors in the dead of night rarely were.
Pence, my vice president, walked out of the clubhouse looking at the approaching visitor. Seeing the LPD squad car, he quirked his head towards me, questioning. Even Pence knew whatever the LPD wanted wasn’t going to be good.
Heading towards the visitor side of the parking lot, I watched as Justin Conroy parked his car and got out. I’ve known Conroy since I moved to the area. The man was as solid as they came and a good man. Like most of the first responders in Lawton, he too enjoyed riding in his down time and often rode along with us just to get away from it all. There was a time they wouldn’t even give us the time of day when the old guard ruled the clubhouse. I didn’t blame them. Then the massacre happened. After that day, everything changed. Now, when the club went for a ride, we found ourselves surrounded by men and women who just wanted to be with us.
It was strange at first.
Now, it was just a way of life around these parts.
“Kansas.”
“Justin,” I said, reaching for my pack of smokes and lighting another one. Fuck, I was smoking too much again.
“What brings you out this late?”
Justin Conroy was a good man. Fair and trustworthy. Fucker also had a bleeding heart a mile long. Didn’t have a problem with him or any of the other officers on Lawton Police Force. My town wasn’t big like Oklahoma City or Tulsa, but we had all the amenities and our fair share of crime as well. Typically, the residents of Lawton were hard-working people. It was the small few that gave us trouble.
“Call came into the station.”
“Okay?”
“Caller wanted me to hand deliver you this.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as Justin held out a small piece of paper. His eyes bored into mine, telling me that shit was about to hit the fan. Taking it, I noticed the familiar number before handing it to Pence, who stiffened.
Yeah, shit just hit the fan all right.
I knew that number.
“Thanks for coming. I’ll take it from here.”
“No problem,” Justin shook my hand before getting back in his car. Rolling down the window, he leaned against the door and added seriously, “Just so we’re on the same page. I back traced that number, Kansas. You need anything, ask. The LPD has your back.”
