Page 9 of Wiley A.F.

“It’s been too damn long, brother.” Bulldog wrapped his arms around Spider, clapping him on the back. He was a bit of a legend around our clubhouse. Well, every RBMC chapter really. Bulldog was the reason any of us assholes had the right to wear our colors. He founded the RBMC and patched Spider in as Prez of the Cleveland, Ohio chapter not long after.

“How the hell have you been?” Spider asked, waving his old war buddy over with his hand, motioning for him to take a spot at our table.

“Dealing with life, trying to keep Rancid in line.”

“Brother, with respect, I don’t fucking trust that guy. I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something about him,” Ghoul spoke as gray smoke spilled out of his mouth around his cigar, and then his pointer and ring finger pulled it from his lips.

“I see,” Bulldog simply replied after a moment of silence.

“He’s not alone, Bulldog,” Spider said rolling his shoulders as he did most often, trying to find a comfortable sitting position. “I want you to keep a close eye on him. I’m with Ghoul on this, and you know how well I read people.”

“I do,” Bulldog nodded. “Why are there empty seats at the table? Where’s Sleeper and Sledgehammer? I saw Sac out front with the prospects.”

“They’ll be here in a bit, but we wanted to talk to you before bringing in the rest of the club. We were called back by the FBI.”

“Fuck. Again? What kind of deal did you make this time?” Bulldog cocked his head to the side, speaking directly to Spider as if none of us were in the room with them.

When this all began, I was under the impression only Tin Man, Ghoul, Spider, and I were aware of the innerworkings of Spider’s deal with the feds, but clearly, I was wrong. It made sense that Bulldog would have known as well. For fucks sake, we were Spider’s family, but Bulldog was more than that. Although I have never been to war while serving my country, I was a soldier for the Royal Bastards and my brothers were my comrades. We had trudged through the mud of the damned together and came back from hell more times than I was able to count.

“This time, it wasn’t me. Wiley is being investigated for child trafficking and who knows how many murders,” Spider stated.

Bulldog’s shoulders tensed, and his head whipped around so that he was looking at me. “Did you do it?” he asked point blank in a cold tone.

As my mouth opened, and before I allowed words to come out, I reminded myself who he was. I respected this man and if the roles were reversed, I wasn’t able to guarantee I wouldn’t have killed first and asked the questions of guilty or innocent after it was too late.

“Our brother, while wiley as fuck, would never do anything to hurt a kid,” Tin Man answered for me, clasping his long fingers together and propped his elbows onto the table’s edge.

“He’s right. They’re claiming my dead brother did it.”

“Did he?”

“That’s what we hope to find out, but first, I have to figure out if he’s alive or dead.” Even hearing the words pass my lips, I didn’t believe I was saying them. In my experience, dead people didn’t kill others, but there was a first time for everything else. So why would this be any different?

“Last known whereabouts is about an hour away from Kingpin’s. Figured we drive the extra miles and let him know what we’re doing in the area instead of call. I want to handle this personally,” I all but growled, balling my fingers into fists.

“Sounds good, and if you need extra bodies, he’ll already know what’s going on.”

“Our thoughts exactly.” Ghoul nodded and began filling him in on the remainder of the plan’s details.

8

WILEY

TWO WEEKS PRIOR

My bike slowed as the tread of my boots caught the blacktop, and I walked my ride to the fence with Tin Man, Ghoul, and Sac by my side. With Sac being Road Captain, we made the unanimous decision that having him in Tennessee with us was a better idea then leaving him back in Ohio. Sleeper inadvertently had plausible deniability at the moment since he was up in Charleston, West Virginia visiting family, but when he returned, we’d fill him in on everything.

A brother I didn’t recognize nodded as we all waited for him to check our credentials before granting us entrance to Royal Road.

“Kingpin is expecting us,” I said, lifting my sunglasses and dropped them immediately back into place. It’d been a while since I was in Tennessee, and I forgot how fucking hot Nashville was. It was so hot, when you breathed, your lungs didn’t take as much as they needed because of the humidity this time of year. All of the added security was a necessity, but it didn’t mean it didn’t bug the shit out of me. I was ready to get this shit handled and head back home.

He nodded us through the gate as it opened, and we rode at a slower pace into the complex. Multiple old warehouse buildings lined the property, and numerous apartments were laid out for the brothers to use at their disposal.

Once we parked our sleds, we headed into the main attraction. It’d been a while since I was here, and a few things had changed, but it still had a honkytonk Vegas vibe. It screamed Kingpin and not so much Pharaoh anymore.

The strippers’ heads turned as we passed them, and the neon lights reflected off the poles. I made a mental note to come back when the trip wasn’t for business and make it for pleasure. No doubt Sac would ride back here with me. He’d just about fucked his way through the entire state of Ohio.

Kingpin really had a palace here in Nashville, and it made me a little jealous our clubhouse wasn’t this nice because the place was damned near fit for a king—obviously what he was going for.

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