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Chapter 1
Storm
Riding up and down California’s longest freeway with no one to argue with me, pester me with stupid questions, and no club whores trying to grab my cock, was what some people called time. I just called it taking a fucking break from it all. Even though this run had been an important errand, the day had been a genuine pleasure for me.
I walked into the Dark Slayers’ clubhouse feeling good about how I’d spent my day. When I looked around, I saw Grit’s big body bent over a pool table, all his attention focused on calculating the perfect angle. When his pool stick shot out, the cue ball bounced on three different sides of the pool table and ended up barely kissing the eight ball. We all watched as it rolled into the pocket., clacking against the others.
Grit straightened up and flashed Buzz a grin. “Game over. Pay up, brother.” Buzz groaned and cursed under his breath as he dug through his wallet. He pulled out a wad of cash and slapped into Grit’s hand. Grit tucked his pool stick under one arm and began counting the money.
I’d seen this scene play out a hundred times since we started the MC. Grit grew up on the streets. Any man with a modicum of common sense knew better than bet against him in a game of poker or pool.
When Buzz stalked off I jerked my chin at one of my best friends in the whole world. “You shaking down club brothers again, Grit?”
He laughed and walked over to the bar with me. “Only the ones foolish enough to insist on taking me on.”
“He should know better. Everyone knows you’re the best pool shooter around.”
“He thought he could take me for a good reason. Did you know Buzz is a two time champion of the Griffinsford Cue Ball Tournament?”
I pulled beers out for the two of us. “I did not know that.”
Grit responded smugly, “And I just kicked his ass without breaking a sweat.”
I lifted my beer bottle in an acknowledgement of his skill. “You should enroll in the next Tournament. Who knows, maybe you could end up being a state or national champion.”
Grit snorted a laugh. “Who’s got time for that kind of petty shit when we’ve got a club to run and Twisted Metal MC breathing down out necks?” He took a long draw off his beer before asking, “How did the San Diego run go? Did you see any trace of those Twisted Metal assholes?”
“I didn’t catch so much as a glimpse of those fuckers. However, I did get a lead on another vet in need of our particular brand of rehabilitation.”
“I suppose you and Breaker are going to go sniff that out later.”
“You know that we are. I already texted Breaker and we’re heading out to talk to him first thing in the morning.”
Grit clanked his beer bottle against mine. “Congratulations on finding another lost soul to save.”
I frowned at Grit, not sure I liked his flippant attitude. “We started this club to give struggling vets the support of a brotherhood. Let’s not ever forget that, okay?”
Grit shot me an annoyed look. “I’m not disrespecting the cause, brother. I’m just impressed that we’ve grown beyond that singular goal. Now we’ve given a couple of ex-convicts a fresh start and Jinx was even homeless when he came to us.”
I swilled down the rest of my beer. “Yeah, we’ve taken on good men from all walks of life, but we all have one thing in common.”
Before I could get onto my soapbox, Grit interjected, “The need for the support of a brotherhood. I know, boss. You’re preaching to the choir here.”
I clasped him on the shoulder. “We’re doing God’s work on earth and earning our place in a heavenly paradise.”
Grit choked on his beer. “Yeah boss, I’m not sure God would approve of all the vices our crew are so fond of. I don’t remember learning anything in Sunday school about guzzling beer, riding a hog, and tattooing club colors on our backs, much less about club whores eagerly sucking our cocks.”
I chuckled, “Maybe I made that part about doing God’s work up. It sounded pretty good though, didn’t it?” Reaching over, I pulled another beer out.
“Yeah boss, you have a fucked up sense of humor though.”
I gestured towards the door with the end of my beer bottle. “Speaking of whores, is it four p.m. already?”
We both turned around to lean on the bar with our elbows. There was no discernible difference between club whores and strippers. All the women who stripped loved to hang around and enjoy the company of the club brothers. Amber stood up straighter and pushed her chest out when she saw us watching.”
“That little bunny has her eyes set on becoming a club president’s old lady.”
I snort a laugh. “It would take more than Amber fucking Harper to lock me into monogamy. She’ll figure out soon enough that I wasn’t joking when I told her I’m not interested in settling down and punching out kids.”
