Page 30 of The Enforcer

Chapter Thirteen

Zeke

Long rides on my chopper really help clear my head and this charity ride came right on time. I’m still a little raw after telling Shane what happened to my mother. I don’t tell anyone that story. I told Rax and Prez, but they’re the only ones that know. Now Shane does too.

I’m not sure why I told him. Usually, when people ask, I change the subject or crack a joke so they’ll leave it the fuck alone. It’s almost like the story came spilling out of me when Shane asked. Thankfully, he didn’t try to push me to say more, as I don’t think I could have handled that. My mother was my and my father’s world. She was the best person we knew, smoothing out my dad’s sharp edges and making him human. After she died, he became harder, prickly with everyone but me and Rax. He was a good man, but he was never the same after she was killed.

The ride also helped me realize just how close Shane and I are. I do love him. I can’t say when I fell, as I’ve always had strong feelings for him. I just know I woke up one day and knew Shane was it for me. It’s one of the reasons I stopped playing with Rax and Finn. Nothing felt right after I realized I felt more about Shane than him being my best friend.

Tossing my leg over my bike after I slide the kick stand down, I smile when Shane gets out of the F-350 Reaper drove down. He looks good today. He looks good every day, but today, he’s more dressed down than I’ve ever seen him. Even when we hang around my house, Shane has on something like fucking khakis or a dress shirt. He rivals Prez with his getups.

Today, Shane has on a pair of jeans that hug him in ways that make my dick take notice, showing off that plump ass I can’t wait to sink into again. Since it’s brisk out, he has on a nice gray sweater that shows off the dips and lines of his body, splayed across the expanse of his chest and gripping his arms for dear life. Shane is fucking sexy.

His eyes meet mine and he smiles shyly, rubbing his hand over his neck. I crook my finger, beckoning him over to me. He saunters over, looking like a cheetah prowling over to me. If there weren’t children present, I’d have him on his knees, my cock down his throat. Later though, he’s mine.

Shane steps into my space but doesn’t touch me. I’m sure he’s afraid that someone will say something about us being together. All chapters of Devil’s Mayhem are tolerant of all kinds of relationships, as long as they’re legal. Besides, we’re all deadly motherfuckers. Who is going to tell us who we can fuck or date?

With that in mind, I hook my fingers into the loops of his jeans, dragging him closer to me so I can kiss him soundly. Shane moans, melting into me as he snakes his arms around my waist. I thrust my tongue into his mouth, swallowing the moans that crop up from him as I taste him.

Pulling away from me, Shane blows out a shaky breath as he takes one step back. “You need to stop before we get carried away.”

“There are plenty of bathrooms we can sneak off to. I’d love to feel your lips on my dick after such a long ride.”

Shane’s eyes flare and he looks around, spotting the three bathrooms that are placed around the park. When he looks back at me, he licks his lips and nods, a slow, sexy grin tipping up his lips. “Fuck,” I groan, grabbing him around the waist once again so I can kiss him deep.

Once I’ve had my fill, I grab his hand so we can walk around and check out the set up. Last year was Devil’s Mayhem Tennessee chapter’s turn to set up the charity event. It was a lot of fucking work and I hated every minute of it, but it was necessary to distribute the kilos of cocaine to the other chapters and clients.

This year, one of our Georgia clients and fellow club, Hell’s Demons, took up the mantle and they did a pretty good job. Their theme is a carnival to coincide with a toy drive and it came along well. There are bins set strategically around the open fields, most of them full to bursting with different toys. Some of the brothers from our chapter are pulling Barbies and stuffed animals from their saddle bags for their contributions and Reaper is tossing bags of toys that couldn’t fit in saddle bags off the bed of the truck.

Along with bins for the toys, the brothers here went all out. There’s a stage set up for some live entertainment, booths for games and food, as well as a paddock of ponies where the children can ride around in a large loop. There are also vendors for different raffles that are bringing in people to give money to the cause.

We may be bikers that transport drugs during these events, but we’re not heartless animals. We like to give back to the communities we live in.

Shane looks around, nodding in approval. “This is a great turnout. I didn’t expect so many people to show up.”

The charity ride we had in Mellbind was popular because of the college in the next town over, but even with that, there weren’t this many people that showed up. Lines for vendors and games are long, and most of the proceeds will go to a few different charities of each chapter’s choice. We try to switch the charities up every year so as not to play favorites.

“It is.” I point to the ponies. “Want to climb on?”

Shane snickers. “Yeah, those ponies won’t be able to hold me.” I glance at the ponies and reckon Shane is right. They’re small with stout legs. Shane isn’t a big guy like me, but those ponies are probably only equipped to carry children. “They barely look like they can hold the kids. I do want to ride a horse though.”

“Never ridden one?”

“Haven’t had the pleasure,” he mutters, watching the kids giggle in excitement as the ponies gently trot in the circle their handlers appointed for them.

As I look around, I spot Prez and our VP, Christian, talking to the President and VP of the Georgia chapter. When Prez catches my eye, he waves me over. It’s weird to see Prez without his signature button down shirts and crisp slacks. He only wears jeans, long sleeve shirts and leathers when he’s on a long charity ride. He looks good, but it’s weird to see him look like one of us.

Bringing Shane to a halt, I kiss his cheek and tell him, “Duty calls, baby. Go have some fun. Win me a teddy bear or some shit.”

Shane rolls his eyes but walks in the direction of one of the booths. I grin at his back as I walk over to Prez. When I’m within earshot, the president of the Georgia chapter of Hell’s Demons MC, Joker, wolf whistles. “I saw that hot kiss back in the parking lot. There are kids around, you horn dog,” he quips.

After I slap palms with him and give him a one-armed hug, I say, “Tell me you’re jealous without telling me you’re jealous.”

Everyone chuckles—save for Prez—before we get down to business. We walk slowly so we can talk, looking as if we’re monitoring the event.

In a low voice and without moving his mouth too much, Joker says, “We have enough keys to last us until the middle of next month, but no longer. We can’t scale down our operation without fearing our customers will go elsewhere. No one has coke as pure as yours, but if they can’t get it from us …” his voice trails off.

This is what Prez and I were afraid of. Whoever called that fucking tip in is messing up our business over several states, not just in Tennessee. I will personally beat this person to death with my bare hands if we lose profits.

---