Page 59 of Roar & Lizzy: A Forever Kind of Love

Chapter 21

Bantorus MotorcycleClub dealt with legal guns in their Idaho chapter, but at their Pitnam location, they'd recently had a turnover with a new president. From the rumors going around, they'd begun to run a chop shop out of the body shop business they owned, away from of the bar they ran under their name.

Roar pulled into the parking lot of Cactus Cove. He'd been here before with his father. A courtesy ride at the time, it barely registered on him that they'd been snooping around. That's how his dad taught him. By example. Explanations and discussions came afterward.

He swung his leg off the motorcycle and stretched. Now, his visit was anything but civility.

Viktor and Marcus joined him in the parking lot. He'd left Brage to lead the other crew of ten riders to hit the body shop. Their task would take longer, and it would require a more significant distraction.

The front door of Cactus Cove swung open, and a man wearing a Bantorus leather vest stood blocking the building. Roar shifted and gazed at the parking lot. Two Bantorus members walked out from behind a coffee shack near the street. Security was higher than he remembered.

He lifted his hand in greeting to the member at the front door and strode forward.

Within a couple of yards, he held out his hand. "Roar Akram, Slag Motorcycle Club, Portland, Oregon. We're riding up to our Seattle Chapter and thought we'd swing by, introduce ourselves, and get a bite to eat."

"Bull Ramchett. I think I remember my dad, Lee, mentioning Slag before." The tall man shook his hand. "Welcome to Pitnam."

"Lee...any relation to Slade Ramchett?" he asked, recalling a name his father had mentioned.

"That's my uncle. He's up in Federal Idaho running the chapter." Bull motioned him to follow.

He stepped inside and glanced around. A pool table sat against the far wall, and the focus seemed to be on the counter. There were customers at two tables and a handful of females standing around near the doorway to the kitchen.

"Enjoy your meal." Bull walked off, disappearing behind the bar.

He took a seat at a table to have a better view of the place. Viktor sat across from him and Marcus to his left. A pretty waitress came over and took their order. Pitnam was only an hour and fifteen-minute ride from Portland. Close enough retaliation could happen immediately.

"We should hear soon if our informant was right." Viktor leaned back in his chair.

Only a couple of times had information came into the club wrong. Each time, they linked the misinformation back to an enemy who tried to get the upper hand. During those times, people died. Slag members and their enemies.

If a job ended badly, it was because of their mistakes. It took planning and timing to turn another motorcycle club's business upside down. His men depended on him to get them out alive, and he spent much of his time before a job thoroughly going through the information, looking for any loopholes, making sure he'd thought of everything.

Marcus braced his elbows on the table. "I've been here before."

"Cactus Cove?" he asked.

Marcus shook his head. "Pitnam. It was when your dad came down here to show support for Bantorus when they were going after Los Li. Probably ten-fifteen years ago."

"No wonder we got the welcome mat thrown out for us." He checked his phone. Brage had yet to text him.

The food arrived. He picked up his burger. During the meal, only a few people came in the bar, none of them Bantorus members, though he knew that Bull wouldn't be stupid enough to leave them alone in the establishment. Someone was watching and waiting.

As he popped the last French fry in his mouth, his phone vibrated. He looked at the text and slid his phone in his vest pocket.

"I'm done." He pulled out a hundred-dollar bill and slid the edge under his plate.

All three of them stood at the same time and walked out of Cactus Cove. The hearty tip an insult to what the Bantorus Motorcycle Club would soon discover.

Riding away, they merged with the traffic on I-5 within minutes. Halfway home, they combined with the crew of ten who'd done their job.

Brage rode up beside him and grinned. Roar lifted his chin. They'd come away successful and lost no men. It was a good day.

They rolled into the alley between The Fire Ring and the clubhouse at five o'clock. Because the bar was closed on Sunday, he gathered everyone around outside to see what Slag accomplished.

Brage lifted the duffle bag off his motorcycle and motioned for Aron, who grabbed his own duffle. Roar schooled his surprise. He'd expected one, not two.

Both men squatted in front of Roar and unzipped the bags. Everyone crowded forward.

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