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15
SNARE
We crossedthe border into Tennessee and were riding through when I stopped at a gas station not far from Memphis. I knew we had a chapter there, and one of Jameson's rules was to announce ourselves to the Presidents, but I couldn't do that. Instead, I took off my jacket and stuffed it under my seat. No patches meant no questions.
While I pumped gas,Catalina went inside the gas station to get some water and snacks. That's when three Harleys rolled in, one after the other. They parked a few feet away from me, and I tried my best to avoid their gaze, but one of them decided to come my way. He was a big guy with tattoos and a shaved head, sporting a short Mohican stripe down the middle. He looked like someone you wouldn't want to cross paths with, but most Bastards looked intimidating.
"That's a classic,"he signaled to my bike as he approached.
"Yeah,she's old but loyal, you know."
He eyed me for a second."Are you from around here?"
"Just passing through.My girl's in the restroom."
"Just passing through, huh?"
I nodded, and an awkward silence fell upon us. Another member approached, this one with sharp dark features and a scowl permanently etched onto his face. The one behind him had sandy blonde hair and looked like a pretty boy, but what stood out were his cowboy boots. He was the one who spoke next.
"You find a new friend, Sarge?"he said, addressing the big guy as the Sargent at Arms. Good to know.
The Sarge smirkedat him and then looked at me. "This here's Country, and Tires here is my Road Captain. I'm Malice."
"Nice to meet you all,"I replied. The gas nozzle clicked off, and I removed it from the gas tank before turning to place it back on the pump. That's when I spotted Catalina stepping out of the store. I turned back to the men who were just standing there, quietly looking at me.
"My girl's all set,so we'll get out of your hair," I said.
"Where are you headed?"Tires asked me.
I turned to him, my gut telling me that nothing good was going to come from this encounter. These guys were being upfront in their questioning, which was odd since the Royal Bastards usually kept to themselves. That only meant they must have studied my photo and knew exactly who I was, regardless of whether I had a patch or not.
"I'm headingup to Nashville to see some friends," I replied.
Malice nodded. "What friends?"
I slid onto the bike,lifted the brake, and glanced over at Catalina, who had paused when she saw the men.
"Listen,I don't want any trouble here. Is there a reason why you're asking me so many questions?"
Malice just stared at me."There's no trouble. We're just looking for someone, and sorry to say, but you fit the bill."
"I doubtI'm the guy you're looking for. I'm just passing through, like I said."
"Well,see, the guy we're looking for looks a lot like you. And he's riding with a pretty thing on his back seat that looks a lot like her," he said, pointing to Catalina, who stood frozen at the entrance of the store.
I hung my head for a second, trying to take in what he was saying. "And why are you looking for him?"
All three mencircled the front of my bike as I prepared for the worst. Country was the one who replied. "Because he killed one of our men."
I didn't look up just yetas I tried to assimilate what they were telling me. I had only killed one man recently, and he was part of the group of men who had attacked us a few nights back. It couldn't have been the RBMC, could it?
As I consideredthe possibility that the man I had killed was a member of the Royal Bastards Motorcycle Club, a sinking feeling settled in my stomach. I knew that if they found out it was me, they would not hesitate to seek revenge.
I lookedup at Malice and his crew, who were still circling me like vultures. "Look, I don't know who you're looking for, but it wasn't me. I've just been passing through town," I said, hoping to diffuse the situation.
Malice's eyes narrowed,and I could tell he didn't believe me. "We have reason to believe that you're the one we're looking for," he said, his voice low and menacing.
I could feelmy heart racing as I considered my options. Should I try to fight my way out of this, or should I try to talk my way out? I knew that neither option was ideal, but I had to do something.
