Page 64 of Kyle

“You go to the cops, I’ll destroy your life.” Then I stand, kick him in the nuts, and stroll quietly out to the alley. I don’t pass a soul as I leave.

Reaching my bike, I stuff the shirt in my saddlebag, pull out of the alley, and head farther down the side street. I make a big loop through the backstreets until I can find my way to I5 and make the five-hour ride to San Jose.

When I hit town, I ride to the clubhouse. There are only a few bikes parked out front. I recognize all of them and know immediately who’s inside. TJ, Marcus, and Billy.

Climbing from my bike, I stretch, my muscles aching from the ten-plus hours I’ve spent in the saddle today. The music islow background noise, and I see the guys sitting at the bar. They turn when I walk in.

TJ motions to the prospect behind the bar, and the kid brings me an ice-cold long neck. I press it to my forehead, letting the coolness sink into my skin.

“You okay?” TJ asks.

“Yeah.” Twisting the cap off, I down a big portion.

“You take care of whatever it was you went to take care of?” TJ asks, obviously fishing for an explanation.

“Yep.” The one-word answer is all I give him.

“That all you’re gonna tell us?” Billy asks.

I lift a brow to TJ. “You’ve been busy, I see.”

“I was worried about you, man.” His eyes drop to my hand on the bottle, and he frowns.

I glance down to see my swollen knuckles.

“Brother, you been in a fistfight?” he asks.

“Just had some business to take care of. I took care of it. End of story.”

“Why you gotta be such a closed-up motherfucker?” TJ snaps.

“Because it’s my business.”

His eyes narrow. “This got anything to do with Sutton?”

My eyes flare when he hits the nail on the head. I tip my bottle up.

“Jesus, it’s like trying to pry the nuclear codes from you. We’re your brothers. No secrets, remember?”

“Bullshit. You don’t get to know about my private life,” I snap.

Billy chuckles. “You don’t have a private life, Kyle. We all know it.”

TJ studies me for a few seconds, then presses again. “And this wasn’t about Rafe?”

“Nope.”

“Just spill, bro,” Marcus huffs. “You know he’s not gonna let it go. TJ’s like a dog with a bone when he thinks he’s on to something.”

I lean on the bar, my shoulders tight. “Just doin’ Rafe’s job.”

“Rafe’s job?” Billy asks. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I stepped up and took care of a problem Rafe should have dealt with.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

I tip my bottle up again, finishing and pushing it forward for another. The prospect hurries over with a replacement, snatching away the empty.

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