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“Fuck off,” someone shouts as he slugs down a beer.
“Fuck you, Strife. Wouldn’t know what a lady looked like if she came and rode your dick,” Axle calls back, causing a few other brothers to chuckle.
Nitro scratches his head. “They’re an ornery bunch of fucks, but they’d protect you with their lives.”
“My other option?” I squeak.
“My place.”
Fear. Adrenaline. Curiosity soars through me.
“Okay.”
***
“Ever served in themilitary?” I ask, looking around at all the camouflage garb.
“No.”
“Of course not,” I mutter.
“I have plenty of brothers that have served,” he grumbles as we make our way to the rear of the shop, where there are tons of weapons in large glass cases, aisles of accessories like targets, ear plugs, safety glasses, knives, and hunting gear.
We pass a grey metal door with a small rectangular window. I peer through, and he says, “That’s the gun range. Front’s the store, and this is the gun range. That’s why it’s called a center. More than just selling weapons.”
I hadn’t stayed at the clubhouse longer than ten minutes. Long enough for Nitro to introduce me to some of his brothers before we rode to his place.
“What’s that?” I ask, pointing to another grey metal door that we pass. This door doesn’t contain a window.
“Inventory,” he mumbles and heads to a final door at the rear.
“Why do you wear sunglasses?”
“Why do you ask so many questions?”
Shrugging, I reply, “It’s the only way to get answers.”
“I was a busybody kid. Got into my dad’s tools one day. He’d been making improvements around the house and had some wood lying in the backyard. I decided to cut some for him and got to fooling around with his chop saw. No safety glasses. No clue what the hell I was doing. Long story short got some small pieces of wood in my left eye.
“I had no business fooling around with the tools, so I tried to rinse my eye myself without telling my folks. I knew I’d get in trouble if they knew what I was doing. It got worse each day until the infection was so bad my parents noticed. Lost my vision completely.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“Don’t be. Made me stronger. Instincts sharper.”
He turns his back to me at the door, shutting off the conversation. I watch from behind as he punches in a code before he presses his hand against a scanner. The door opens, and we’re faced with a second door. This time he pulls out a key and unlocks it before entering a second code, and this door opens to an elevator.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have underestimated you,” I mumble. “It can’t feel good living like this.”
He punches a button, and the doors to the elevator open. He punches a code into a keypad again, and the elevator slowly starts to move.
“Like what?”
“In a prison. Fort Knox?”
“I chose this lifestyle. I’m prepared for the unexpected.”
Irritation rises in me. “Well, I didn’t sign up for that lifestyle. I’m in the business of saving lives, not taking them,” I reply bitterly.
