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Hawk ran a hand over his head and grimaced. He smelled like it too. “You try sleeping in a broken chair all night.”
Cali chuckled and placed the tray on the counter. Then he handed one of the takeaway coffee cups to Hawk. “You probably need this.”
“I do.” He checked his watch. Five o’clock. Exactly. Not bad for a prospect. Then again, serious prospects who wanted to become fully patched members aimed to please. “I’m glad you’re on time. Where did you park? I didn’t hear you pull up?”
Usually the roar of motorcycle pipes woke him instantly.
“I left my bike behind the coffee shop,” Cali said. “Not sure why. Just felt safer.”
“Good.” He took a long drink of the hot coffee and sighed in satisfaction.
“This is for you, too.” Cali took a roll of paper out of his back pocket and handed it to Hawk. “After what you told me last night, I did some research on Ian O’Cleary and OCL Enterprises. I also marked the security footage. When you return to the clubhouse, you can check out last night’s visitor.”
“Thanks.” He opened the roll to find over twenty pages of information, printed in single-space and on both sides of the paper. He rolled it back up and shoved it into his back pocket. “I’ll read it later.”
“Cool.” Cali took one of the coffees and sipped. “Food is in the bag.”
“Good.” He took a long drink and closed his eyes. His stomach wasn’t quite ready for breakfast yet because he felt like he’d been beaten with a broken bottle. It didn’t help that he’d not had any kind of release last night—neither sleep nor sex. “I’m heading back to the clubhouse. In the meantime, stay with Izzy until I return. She’s asleep now and I didn’t have a chance to tell her you’d be here this morning. So when she sees you, she might be upset.”
Cali’s smile disappeared. “She’s not armed, is she?”
Hawk motioned to her gun on the counter. “That’s hers. But don’t give it back until you’re sure she won’t shoot you.”
Cali stared at the small weapon. “Are you serious?”
“Yes.” Hawk finished his coffee and tossed the cup into a nearby trash can. Then he grabbed his cut and slipped it on. “I’ll be back by ten. Don’t let her leave this apartment. Or your prospect days are over.”
Cali nodded, and Hawk left the apartment. Because he was on the top floor, he could see the town in all directions. Most of the buildings, built between the Revolutionary War and WWI, were squat, brick structures no taller than the white church steeple that punctuated the end of Main Street. Or the beginning, depending on the direction you were riding.
Sunrise was thirty minutes away, yet the eastern horizon held a hint of pink and purple as it slowly woke up. The western view of the Shenandoah mountains was still dark and shrouded in shadows. Around him, the city slept—except for the coffee shop across the street. The coffee shop/bakery,Raven Black, owned by a retired-and-grumpy Marine, opened at four a.m., a gift he and his brothers appreciated. Since it was late July, the summer’s heat and humidity was already stifling the town.
He hurried down the metal stairs and found his bike near four others. Atleastfourof his brothers, including Eagle, were passed out in the bar. He didn’t care where any of them slept, but as he mounted and hit the ignition he silently ordered them to church by six. He didn’t want to hear any excuses. If theydidn’tshow on time, there’d be consequences.
His bike roared out of the parking lot, and he headed toward Main Street, not unaware of how the sound of his engine broke apart the morning calm. He’d always loved the morning hours, before the town woke up. Especially today. Even the few hours of sleep he’d had had given him some clarity on the situation. And that clarity told him the situation with Izzy was probably far more dangerous than he’d first considered.
A few minutes later, he drove down a long road that led away from all civilian houses and businesses. He only stopped to punch the security code into a panel adjacent to the high rolling metal gate that protected the compound. Once the gates rolled open, he pulled into the center concrete courtyard that Renegade Motors shared with the MC’s clubhouse and watched as the gates locked shut again. Every time he drove through the gates, he wished he could thank the club’s founding members, including his grandfather, for their foresight.
The entire complex was called The Powder House because the main brick building between the clubhouse and the garage had once been a Revolutionary War era house that had held black powder and weapons. During the Civil War, it had been a hospital. In 1880, the Southern Railroad Company purchased the property and bought the land around it to use as therailroad’s storage facility. They also built the ten-foot concrete wall around the complex with a metal gate as the only way in or out.
During WWI, the city bought the propertybackand used it as an army recruiting station. Duringthe depression, it becamea boarding house. WWII turned it into a brothel, then a firehouse. In the 1950s, a local investor bought it to build a no-tell motel on the property. Finally, about fifty years ago, the founders of the Devil’s Renegades bought the entire property, including the old motel on one side and a garage that once housed extra rail cars on the other side.
Over the decades, the club had spent hundreds of thousands on renovations. The old railroad storage facility had been turned into the enormous garage that housed their club’s main legal business: Renegade Motors. The Powder House became their social hall, with a bar and game rooms on the first floor, and a large room—the chapel—for church on the second floor. Offices were on the third floor. The old hotel, connected to the Powder House through an underground tunnel, now housed every club member who wanted a room, plus a few guest suites. Every bedroom had a bath, and the kitchen could feed a small, hungry army. The original lobby was now their weight room, and the backyard pool still worked, although it leaked and required constant maintenance.
Hawk parked near the garage, in his designated space, happy to see most of the bikes resting in their proper places. He hated acting like a kindergarten teacher, but as VP, part of his job was to keep track of everyone and make sure no one was in trouble. Since it was Sunday, the garage was locked up tight and no employees were around.
It didn’t take long to reach his room, take a hot shower, and head down to the kitchen where a very good prospect—probably Cali—had set the timer on the coffee machine. Over a hot cup of coffee, he read through the material Cali had printed out, making notes in the margin with a pen he’d found on the table.
At five-forty-five, he finished his second cup of coffee and wished he’d take one of the Cali’s donuts. He really needed the sugar rush right now.
“Hey.” Thor shuffled into the kitchen. He held his laptop under one arm while he ran his other hand through his long dark hair that hung to his shoulders. Today the brother wore low-slung jeans and his cut over his bare chest. “What’s for breakfast?”
“Coffee.” Hawk threw his pen across the table. “Are the others awake?”
“I think so.” Thor poured himself some coffee and leaned his ass against the counter. He held the mug with two hands as if afraid he’d drop it. “I heard movement.”
A loud bumping sound came from the ceiling. At the same time, they both looked up and said, “Twitch.”
Hawk carried his mug to the sink. “I don’t know how, as a fully grown man, Twitch still falls out of bed when his alarm goes off. He’s like a teenager.”
