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“I don’t care,” I hissed.
“Oh, fuck. Two bikers are heading toward us!” Xabier shouted.
I slammed on the gas and jerked us back into our seats. “Let’s play chicken.” At the very least, we could have a little fun before we left the oh-so-prosperous Knight’s Legion territory. “Get your guns out!”
The two bikers stayed the course and were unwavering like me. I was confident they were suspicious of us and were members of KLMC.
We were almost nose to nose when one pulled a gun and started firing. Xabier and Keeno shot back. I swerved the little piece-of-junk car, going from one side of the dirt road to the other, much like my Uncle Keg had done when chasing after the Knights the day he’d died. The similarities freaked me out, but I pressed on, determined to come out on top and return to my woman in one piece.
“Got one!” Xabier yelled.
The dude lost control of his hog and flew into the ditch. He would alert Storm and his crew if he wasn’t dead, and we’d sure as shit be roadkill if they caught us.
I floored it, aiming to hit the other biker head-on.
Clouds of dust whirled around us. I gripped the steering wheel and seethed at the man before me. He was one of them. A Knight. One of my half brother’s crew and I would smash him into the dirt, crush his bones, and leave a trail of his blood behind us as we left this fucking town. He deserved to die by association.
I roared like a crazy man as I was about to plow into him. But the son of a bitch flew off his bike and let it hit us head-on.
I fought to keep control of the car after the motorcycle had hit the left side of the front. Xabier and Keeno shouted in my ear, but I couldn’t make sense of their Spanish.
“That fucker just killed his Harley trying to take us out! That’s fucking crazy.” But luck had been on my side, and we’d recovered and proceeded down the road.
“Jesus Christ, that’s what I call loyalty and doing anything to protect his club, ese,” Xabier said, turning in his seat to look back. “I can’t tell if Evel Knievel survived his stunt. What kind of man launches himself off a Harley like that?”
“A daredevil, dipshit.” Keeno snorted.
I ignored their banter and focused on getting us out of town before an army of Knights was after us.
Pride swelled in my chest. We’d wounded two members of Storm’s club. More would soon fall, and I wouldn’t stop until I burned his compound to the ground… including him.
We’d rolled into Scornrock just after four, an hour earlier than I’d planned, and exchanged my truck for our bikes so my crew wouldn’t need to rely on me for transportation.
I’d broken the speed limit to get home, after ditching the damaged sedan a mile from the rental place, not worried about blowback for the car. I’d used a fake identity and had paid cash at the mom-and-pop shop. I doubted they had hidden security cameras, but they had seen my face.
Still, I wasn’t worried about the old folks, but I was about the Knights retaliating. Any respectable club would seek retribution after two of their brothers were injured… orunalived. Storm wouldn’t fuck around and waste a second before hitting us back—ifhe knew it was the Hell’s Bells MC. I was pretty sure he did, so I needed to protect Ella and the kid.
The bar was quiet, with only a few members drinking. I searched for Vegas and my woman and spotted the boy alone at a table along the wall.
“Watch my back,” I told Xabier and Keeno as I strode toward the pint-size replica of me, with a weird twinge in my belly and an ache in my chest. “Hey, dude, how’s it going?”
He lifted his face and stared at me like he wasn’t sure who I was. Couldn’t say I was surprised, since he’d only seen me a few times.
“Do you remember me? Rocky, the stranger with rockin’ donuts?” I sat in the chair next to him.
“Um, yeah. Did you bring an apple pie too?” Intense eyes like mine studied my face, then traveled toward my tatted hands resting on the table.
“Yup. Do you like apple pie?”
“Mhm. It’s my favorite!”
“Mine too.” Jesus, we were more alike than just physical traits. “Whatcha doing there? Homework?”
“No.” He laughed and waved me off. “I don’t get homework at preschool. I’m coloring in my superheroes book.” He angled the picture he’d been working on.
“Cool. So how old are you? You look big for preschool.” And he seemed intelligent and talkative, unlike Cole. Were sons more like their moms? Maybe just a mix. I only had a little of my mom in me, like her horrible emotional state and addictive nature. I could only assume I had some of my sperm donor in me as well.
Irisah hadn’t been a warm and cuddly mother, only doing the essentials for Cole. He’d spent a crap ton of time in front of the flat-screen television like it was his babysitter. He’d been a quiet kid, but I’d figured that was his personality. I’d tried to be a good dad, but I hadn’t gotten past Cole’s red hair, hazel eyes, and the nagging feeling he wasn’t mine. I’d even asked Irisah dozens of times if she’d cheated on me. But she’d sworn she hadn’t and had scientific reasons why he didn’t look like me. They’d all been lies, of course. Cole had never been mine.
