Page 53 of Holley Jolly Biker

Xander nodded, “Sounds about right.

It was Merlin who asked, “What the fuck is a guy’s day?

I shook my head, “Got no goddamned clue.”

That was when Nuke’s phone rang.

Leaning back in his chair, he pulled it out, then looked at all of us, “It’s Robert.”

We all lifted our chins.

Taking the call, we all waited while he listened.

Just then, the door to the clubhouse opened, and two men walked in.

One of them looked like a man from Hawaii. Tanned skin. Long hair. Tattoos.

But the man who stepped in after...

Never before have I ever seen a man like him.

He made Freddy Krueger look like a fluffy kitten.

That was when I heard Nuke, “I think they’re here. One of them looks like that fucker, Jason Momoa, in that new show called Game of Thrones?” I heard Nuke ask.

Then he said, “And the other...” he listened.

Then he nodded, “Yeah, a patchwork of scars.”

The big man’s face didn’t break, nothing in his body moved.

“Church.” At Nuke’s one word, we all stood, then headed into the room we used for church.

It was the Hawaiian-looking guy who asked, “Need us to hand over our phones?”

Grey shook his head, “Nah. We allow phones inside. A few brothers have people they want them to know no matter what they are doing, they’re not too busy for them.”

The Hawaiian guy nodded, “Like that.”

The big man at his side didn’t twitch, not even a muscle.

After we were all settled around the table, we went over what Robert had told Nuke.

Merlin accessed their files, and we all discussed it.

Once we all decided, Nuke said, “Alright. You’re both on probation for six months. Then we will meet and see if y’all are a good fit for the club.”

Kettle had his phone in his hand, and when he shook his head and then smirked, Jury jerked his chin, “The fuck are you doing?”

Kettle lifted his head, then looked at me, and spoke, even though he rarely did so unless it was to Soraya, he said, “You might not want to ask your woman and your daughter why there are paint flecks on your lamps.”

I lifted a brow, then pulled out my phone.

Went to my woman’s number, tapped it, brought it to my ear, and waited.

She answered on the third ring, “Kettle told you. Didn’t he?”

I smiled, “He told me I might not want to ask you and our daughter why there are paint flecks on our lamps. Care to explain that?”

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