Page 9 of Property of the Hellfire Riders

“Fuck no. All I know is that Vance told me there was a party going on tonight at the clubhouse.”

Jack throws his head back with a wicked smile that turns into uproarious laughter. His golden tooth gleams in the dim light. I fail to see what’s so funny right now.

“God damn, Hawk.” He shakes his head laughing to himself still. I drum my fingers on the bar, waiting for the punchline to hit me.

“What the hell?” I press.

“Hey, we were just about to bet on whether you’d show up.” Vance boasts, rubbing the back of his neck where his tribal tattoo stretches from his ear to the back of his head.

“I told you I’d come out.”

“I thought for sure Tank was going to have to pry you out of your shop.”

I don’t argue with Vance on that. If I could be anywhere in the world right now, it’d be working on my art. I glance down at the silver ring on my finger. I carved matching ones for my two top guys, my left and right hand, Tank and Vance.

“Well, I’m here,” I growl. My already thin patience is about to break.

“Yeah, but are you really here, Hawk?” Vance asks. “You've been off your A-game lately.”

“My A-game is none of your fucking business.”

“When it starts messing with the chapter then yeah. It is my business.”

“Hey! I didn’t come here tonight for a god damn lecture, Vance,” I say dryly. He sighs, leaning his elbow against the bar. He sticks a thin toothpick between his teeth and begins to absentmindedly pick.

“What the hell’s going on?” I ask again in a way that tells him I won’t ask it again.

“Jesus, it’s your damn birthday, Hawk.”

Two heavy hands slam down onto my shoulders, giving me a rough shake.

“We’re throwing you a party, asshole,” Tank bellows. He’s already drunk. There’s a hazy cloud in his brown eyes.

“A party?” I repeatedly stare at the two of them.

“Hell yeah,” Vance laughs. “You think we wouldn’t celebrate our president?”

“Plus, it’s a reason to drink,” Tank adds on, walking behind the bar and grabbing a fifth of bourbon.

“You’ve never needed a reason,” I mutter under my breath.

“See?” Vance says. “There it is. The Hawk I know and love.”

“Don’t get used to it,” I mumble.

“For he’s a jolly good fellow! For he’s a jolly good fellow!” Tank sings his heart out over the speaks, catching the attention of everyone. The men waste no time, laughing and raising theirbeers toward the ceiling. They sing together in unison then cheer loudly. I raise my drink in response to them. I smile then.Damn, do I love these men.

I lean back in the stool, looking over the crowd that continues to grow in size as it grows later in the night.

After an hour, I decide to head back to my metal working shop. It’s quiet there. There I can think, plan our next moves. We’ve got the feds breathing down our necks and the Dead Demons encroaching on our turf.

I want nothing more than to end them.

By then Tank and Vance will be too drunk to even notice I’ve left. Vance wraps an arm around my shoulder then.

“Does my guy have a girl for the night?” he asks.

“No thanks,” I grunt.

---