Page 35 of The Sins Of The Biker

“Let’s get the fuck out of here. The stink from this place is going to make me hurl.”

“You can say that again,” Wave agrees, and I follow him to return to our bikes.

But something catches my eye on the table. It’s a newspaper that’s opened with a phone number written on the top. The number looks familiar.Where have I seen it before, and who does it belong to?

I grab my phone from my pocket and take a picture, promising to look more into it when I get back to the clubhouse.

We walk to our bikes and ride like hell for home.

To our clubhouse.

I guess I should be happy. At least we got to kill someone, but it still angers me to know we were too late to get Harrison and his damn crew.

***

When we get home, a party is in full swing.

Aware we were coming back, the boys we left behind took their chance to welcome us home. I have to confess it is a nice diversion. I’ve been so stressed and full of energy that I’ve had no time to relax and unwind.

I’m grateful to my club for organizing it.

My nose picks up the smell of yummy food, and Sarah and Mom are cooking up a storm in the kitchen.

“Hey, Mom!”

She spins around to hug me, then holds my face in her hands. “How is my boy? You were gone for a while.”

I hadn’t exactly been honest with Mom about why I had to go to New York, telling her only that it was club business.

I didn’t want to explain to her we were riding out to New York because we found the address of the men who tried to take my life and possibly were responsible for my father’s death. She would have tried to keep me from going, but I still would have gone, so she’s better off not knowing the details.

“Yeah, we had some business we had to take care of.”

She studies me, her eyes not missing a thing.

“Mm… I’ll let it go for now. You look exhausted and need to eat, but I’d like to chat about this again sometime.”

“Sure thing, Mom,” I reply, kissing her cheek.

I peek into the pot and see my favorite dish cooking. Paella.

“You’re a saint, Mom.” Kissing her forehead, I grab the spoon in the pot and bring it to my mouth, swallowing the rice.

“Mm… that’s good. I’ve missed your cooking.”

She slaps my hand. “Stop it. I will serve soon. Now go wash up while I finish.”

Smiling, I turn and head out to the main room and stop now and then, having a word with my men. Seeing Stanford sitting by the bar with a whore on his lap, I tap him on the shoulder to gain his attention.

He turns to face me. “Hey, Prez. What’s up?”

“Need a favor.”

“Anything.”

“Can you run a check on this number? Need to know who it belongs to.”

Showing him my phone, I zoom in on the number I took back at Harrison’s house. He copies the number in his phone, saying, “Sure thing.”

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