AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I don’t want to go chase him down, Hooch.”At least, not with you.There’s something about his offer that makes me nervous. “Besides, I doubt he even had my money. He was probably just using that as a lure to get me here.”
I turn away to go, but Hooch grabs me again. This time, his hand is like a vise around my arm. “Come on. One drink ain’t gonna hurt you.”
“Let me go!” I cry, pulling away, but this time his hand is like a vise around my arm.
“Don’t be a little bitch.” Hooch grabs my other arm, twisting me to him. I’m so close to him now that I can smell the beer on his breath. “You walk around actin’ like your shit don’t stink,” he rasps. “You’re gonna lose the fuckin’ attitude and come in and have a beer with me. You got that? Now come on.”
“No! Fuck you, Hooch! Let. Me. Go!” I shout. Desperately, I look over at the front door to the bar, but no one is coming out. There’s no one else in the parking lot. I’m on my own.
As I continue to struggle, my eyes lock onto his face. All pretense of friendliness is gone from his eyes. Instead, there’s a grim, angry determination. And something else. Something even more frightening.
Hunger.
3
FURY
The next day, I don’t get out of Ankeny until afternoon, after a shitload of coffee and a big mess of eggs and bacon. The party at the clubhouse was a rager, just like Voodoo predicted. It went until all hours. As it turned out I barely used the apartment for sleep at all. Venom set me up with two of his club bunnies who looked for all the world like identical twins. I crashed there for a few hours around daybreak, after a night of booze, loud-ass music, and pussy.
I stay in Iowa until the coffee chases all the booze out of my system. Then I head back up north after saying goodbye to Venom and the rest of them.
The ride up to Minneapolis is uneventful. There ain’t really a scenic route to speak of, so the only good choice involves a boring as fuck stretch of Interstate 35 — straight, flat, and featureless, except for the steady stream of eighteen-wheelers hauling who-knows-what, who-knows-where.
Still, once I cross over the state line to Minnesota, the landscape starts to change. Subtle signs indicate that I’m getting closer to home. There’s something about Minnesota that gets in your blood. Maybe it’s the smell of crisp white winter, which sometimes comes to you even in the swell of the summer heat. It’s the smell of evergreens in the sun, and clean, clear lake water. For me, there’s nothing like it. I’ve been all over this country, but I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else.
By the time I get close to the Twin Cities, it’s late afternoon. I decide to stop for a beer before checking in at the clubhouse. There’s a bar I like in south Minneapolis called the G-Spot. The G-Spot attracts all types of people, and it’s pretty popular with bikers of all stripes. It’s in neutral territory, and generally speaking different clubs manage to peacefully coexist when they’re in there.
Funny coincidence, I end up running into another Iowa biker brother at the G-Spot on the way into the bar. His name is Memphis, and he’s a former member of the Des Moines chapter of the Demented Sons MC. Memphis’s uncle Ox is one of our Minneapolis RBMC crew. I ain’t seen him in a while, so I almost don’t recognize him.
“Shit, son, I sure as hell didn’t expect to run into your ass!” I greet Memphis, slapping him on the back. “Ox mentioned you were coming up here to pay him a visit, but I didn’t figure we’d cross paths. Least of all here.”
“Good to see you, Fury,” Memphis says. “Cross paths is right. I’m headed back down I-35, but figured I’d stop in here and wet my whistle before I left town.”
“Great minds think alike. Let me buy you a beer.” He turns around and follows me back inside. I signal to the bartender and we take a couple of seats at the bar.
“You hear I left the Demented Sons?” Memphis asked.
“Shit, yeah, I heard you’re patching into the Dallas Royal Bastards,” I grin. “Welcome to the club, brother. Ox told me all about it.”
“Thanks. It was time for a change. Speaking of which. My road name’s Ares now.”
“So noted, brother. So, Dallas, eh? What prompted that?”
Our beers arrive, and Memphis/Ares picks his up and takes a long swig. “Ah, ya know. Like I said, it was time for a change. Warmer weather, all that shit.” He looks away instead of giving me a direct answer, like he’s thinking about something he doesn’t wanna talk about.
I know from Ox that Memphis had a girl he was in love with who died a while back. I didn’t get the whole story, but from what Ox told me, she died in his arms. I guess he hasn’t been the same since, which is understandable. I sure as hell ain’t gonna pry into that if it’s part of the reason he’s leaving Iowa.
We shoot the shit for a while. Ares drains his beer and tells me he’s gonna hit the road. I repeat that the beer’s on me. Ares claps me on the back, gives me a one-finger wave and exits the bar.
I stick around for a few more minutes to finish my own beer, then stand up and toss some cash next to my empty glass. As I walk out to the parking lot, I’m trying to decide whether to go to the clubhouse first or head home. On the other end of the lot, I see a guy trying to force a girl onto his motorcycle. She’s got her back to me, but I can see her struggling, trying to pull her wrists away from his grip and shouting at him in a voice spiked with fear.
“Hey!” I shout. “Let her the fuck go!”
I storm toward them. The guy freezes and looks toward me. I’m just close enough by now to clock the patch on his chest: Eagle’s Talon MC. To say there’s no love lost between our clubs is a fucking understatement. The Talon opens his mouth in a snarl, but before I can lay hands on him, the chick he’s struggling with knees him in the balls.
The Talon roars in pain and doubles over, letting up on his grip. The chick wrenches away from him and takes off running down the sidewalk. He lets out an angry shout at her and starts to straighten up — just in time for my fist to meet his fucking face. It’s a good, solid connect, and it takes him down in a second, knocking the asshole out cold.
“You motherfucker,” I spit at him. “You’re lucky I don’t put your ass in the goddamn ground!” I land a solid kick in his kidney, which rolls him over like a sack of potatoes. Satisfied he’s down for the count, I turn my attention to the chick, who’s half a block away by now.
