Page 25 of Roar & Lizzy: A Forever Kind of Love

Chapter 9

Roar set the open satcheldown on the seat of his Harley and picked up one of the knives. Rolling the handle in the palm of his hand, he eyed the spruce log propped against the side of the clubhouse. His skills with a blade went back to his childhood.

Pinching the weapon between his thumb and the first knuckle of his index finger, he brought the knife up to his shoulder and threw.

The soft thunk of hitting his target came to him over the music drifting out of the clubhouse.

Without looking, he picked up another one and stepped back, increasing the distance between him and the wood. He tossed all five knives and walked over to retrieve them.

The first time he'd ever thrown, he'd pierced his dad's leather boot. He must've been around eight years old, but the memory stayed fresh in his head. It was his father's love and commitment that assured him to try again.

Increasing the distance again, he scraped the pad of his thumb across the blade. While his practice knives weren't sharp, he kept the tip to a point. Unlike the weapon hanging in the sheath off his belt which he kept sharpened and weighted.

He inhaled deeply, closed his eyes, and raised his hand. Mimicking the other throws, he threw by memory. Thunk.

"Behind you, Prez," said Brage.

He opened his eyes and turned around. "What's up, brother?"

"Cody wants to step forward at the next meeting." Brage lit a cigarette. "His year was up right before we made the break from the Seattle Chapter. I told him I'd run it by you."

The prospect had ridden with Slag under Roar's father. Pleased with Cody's dedication, he'd brought the kid along to Portland. He'd stand a better chance at becoming a patched member where they needed more men.

But Cody was only twenty-two years old.

"Do you think he's mature enough to handle the kind of action we're going to see here." Roar put the knives back in the satchel and shoved the pouch in his back pocket. "Once we have every MC around after us, the Feds will follow. I don't need him getting scared and ratting us out."

"He hasn't been on any runs." Brage blew smoke in the night air. "We've tested him, but we both know that doesn't show the true characters of a man. What is going for him is his parents, and older brother are in Norway. His brother is a Slag. I think his desire to help his family will bring his loyalty."

"Are you backing him?" asked Roar.

"Ja." Brage looked him in the eyes. "Gut feeling, he's a good addition."

"Tell him to stay close. We'll bring him to the table before the meeting is over." Roar ran his hand down his beard, pulling the whiskers straight. "What time is it?"

"A little after one o'clock."

"I need to get to the bar." He slapped Brage on the back. "I'll catch you later."

"I'll save a cold one for you." Brage broke off and walked toward the clubhouse, singing softly to himself.

Roar crossed the alley and went into the back door of the bar. He's spent the day riding, fielding calls about Lagsturns out for Slag blood, and trying to keep himself focused on the immediate trouble.

His thoughts often drifted lately. All because of Lizzy.

It was getting harder to walk away from her.

Not used to working toward getting a woman to trust him, he found himself frustrated and full of tension. He couldn't sit still, and he found himself staring at the ceiling when he should be sleeping, pissed off at the sound of others getting their rocks off.

He walked into the main room of the bar and gazed around. Only six customers remained.

"Hey, Roar." Monica carried a plastic tub filled with dirty dishes toward him.

He moved out of her way and held the kitchen door for her. "How's everything going?"

"Easy night." Monica looked over her shoulder. "I'd knock on wood, but I'd probably jinx it for tomorrow."

He walked over and stood behind the counter. His gaze naturally going to Lizzy. She pocketed her tips and cleaned the top of the table. Never had he seen anyone take pleasure from a few dollars.

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