Page 2 of Taken By the Biker Daddies

Jake

By the time I reached Billie’s, what had started out as a drizzle had already turned into a downpour. Typical weather for the Louisville area, even in spring.

I parked my Royal Enfield Classic 350 next to the two other bikes in the shed and entered through the back door. The bar was empty as it usually was before three, with only the bald bartender and a bearded guy mopping the floor inside. They were both long-time members of my MC, their names carved into the wooden cloud that hung from the ceiling, the same cloud embroidered into the back of every Black Storm leather jacket as the backdrop for a pair of gloved hands gripping lightning bolts as if they were throttles.

“Hey, boss.” The bartender, George, looked up from the counter he was polishing. “Got my lemons?”

I grabbed one from the bunch in the paper bag I was holding and threw it at him. “Here.”

He caught it firmly. Just what I’d expect from someone who has a son in Little League.

I set the bag down on the counter. “And for the last time, you don’t have to call me ‘boss’. You don’t work for me. You work for Billie.”

“Damn right.”

A tall woman in a red flannel shirt came down the stairs, her gray hair tied back in her signature braid. She was in her seventies now, so she walked with a bit of a limp, but I could still remember when she was strong enough to throw a drunk out of the bar, sometimes a traveler, sometimes a regular. Sometimes, it was even her own husband, Sam, the former leader of Black Storm.

She frowned as she took a good look at me. “You’re wet. Here, dry yourself off.”

She grabbed a towel and threw it at me. As I dried my shoulders, I looked at Sam’s picture hanging on the wall behind the bar.

I sure hope you’re enjoying the bike race up there.

After all, he always did say that whenever there was a thunderstorm like the one happening now, it was because of people up there revving and racing their bikes. I could just imagine him going at full speed above the clouds, laughing while leaving everyone behind. Not that he ever did that when he was alive. He never left any member of the MC behind, which was what I had been striving to do as well ever since I was made its leader.

George patted my shoulder. “Don’t worry, Jake. You’re doing a great job. I’m sure Big Sam’s proud of you.”

I sure hoped so.

“You know what would make Sam even more proud?” Billie propped her elbows on the counter. “If you got yourself a woman. Right, Randy?”

The guy who was mopping gave a thumbs-up sign.

I shook my head and moved on to wiping my sleeves. “I’m fine, Billie.”

She frowned. “You’re forty. You need someone to take care of you.”

“I’ve got a bunch of guys.”

Guys who wouldn’t cling to me or make up stuff about me and try to ruin my life like a woman would. Like the last woman I dated did. The biggest mistake of my life.

Billie gave another snort. “Good luck asking them to give you a kid.”

Randy chuckled.

I shrugged. “I’ve got enough to look after.”

Just then, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I took it out and saw Max’s name on the screen. Speaking of someone to look after.

I answered the call. “Max? What’s up?”

“Um, Jake…” I could already hear the worry in his voice. “I’ve got a problem.”

“Where are you?”

“At the hospital.”

My stomach tensed. “St. Lucy’s?”

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