Page 2 of The MC's Little Brother

“Playing with Rooster. He jumped on him when Vegas chased him outside,” she replied, shaking her head. She acted so much older than her six years of age. Rooster was Butch’s half-brother and couldn’t be serious if he tried. Making him club Secretary hadn’t helped with that as much as we’d hoped.

“Got the story on that?”

“I think I heard Vegas yelling about throwing diapers,” she commented.

I bit back a snort. Idiots.

Getting our crew to where they needed to be was a little like herding cats. It took Butch’s barking orders to get the crew together and on the road. The club was made up of a bunch of knuckleheads, but I loved every damn minute and once we were on the road and moving, I felt a smile spread across my face. As the VP, I was right behind Prez, with Gracie riding with me and Butch on my left. Flash must’ve abandoned his uncle because he was hanging on his dad and looked pleased as punch to be there. The kids were still a little rattled after Butch disappeared for nearly a week. No one wanted to tell them he was arrested on false accusations. It would’ve scared them for no damn reason. The rest of the crew fell in behind us, and the roar of the engines was music to my ears.

The rally had a large spot for parking reserved for us. It wasn’t the biggest rally we’d ever been to, but it stretched across the main street of the town, with bikes in front of the buildings and side by side in the middle of the road. I hopped off my bike, offering my hand to Gracie as she slid off behind me. She needed help with her helmet still, but when I pulled it off, she was beaming at me.

“That was fun!”

I nodded once to acknowledge her. “Stick close to an adult, so you don’t get lost.”

She nodded, shoving her glasses up her nose with a serious expression. “I’m going to be with Daddy. He promised to take me for ice cream.”

She dashed off without another word, and I watched her until she was tugging on her dad’s hand.

Butch was one of the few guys in the crew who had more than one road name. When he joined, he was named Butcher, mostly because when he was pissed, he looked like he’d cleaver you to pieces. But once he met Skylar, hesoftened a little, and he didn't feel comfortable going by Butcher around his kids. Prez renamed him Papa Bear, and people went back and forth on what they called him depending on if the kids were around. He would still pound you into the ground if you got out of hand, so Butcher hadn’t gone away completely. Probably never would. Butch was an intense guy.

After two of the guys drew short straws and were ordered to watch the bikes, the crew spread out. There was a live band playing, restaurants and bars with open doors for drinks and food, a few booths set up for charities, and they were setting up for a few shows at the end of the block. Stunt shows were popular at shit like this. One of our own, Circus, was already there. He’d be showing off his moves later. He was a damn clown on a good day, but no one could pull off the shit he could on the back of his bike.

There was plenty to do at rallies like this, and most of the guys had a part in all of it, from bike shows to tattoo competitions. But me and Prez were here for the connections. We needed new prospects, and we liked connecting with old friends. We headed for a familiar face outside of a restaurant, and I lifted my chin in greeting when he noticed me.

“Hey.”

He jerked his chin in return, but a shit-eating grin passed over his face when his gaze landed on Prez.

“Well, if it isn’t little Wyatt,” he teased, pushing off the wall and away from the woman who was plastered to his side. His voice lacked any venom, and he pulled us both into back-slapping hugs the minute we got close enough.

“Good to see you,Jesse.”

He wrinkled his nose as he pulled away. “Alright, yeah. I hate that. How’s it goin’?”

Me, him, and Prez were old friends and knew each other when we were kids. Jesse moved with his folks before high school and we drifted apart. Stunned the hell out of me when me and Prez were prospects and ran into him at a rally a lot like this one. We were a lot more alike than I’d thought, and he was prospecting just like we were in a crew from the West Coast. We kept in touch and when Prez took over the crew, Jesse came out to celebrate with us and we did the same for him a few years later. Now we met up a few times a year at rallies and swapped stories of our idiot crews.

We caught up for a while, grabbing a beer from inside the restaurant, and we were about to head to the stunt show to watch Circus do his thing when a familiar and very frustrated voice cut through the noise behind me.

“Listen here, buddy. Slap my ass again and I’m gonna kick you in the nuts so hard they’ll crawl back up inside your body to escape.”

2

Melissa

Iloved going to rallies with the guys. I really did. But there were always negatives to things like this. Some biker crews were frequented by misogynistic jerkwads like the guy in front of me who thought they could touch a woman any way they wanted merely because they had a bike between their legs. They all found out eventually that I was not the kind of woman to just let it slide.

The asshole thought I was joking, leaning against his bike, a smarmy grin on his face as his friends behind him chuckled. I’d gone looking for lunch ideas for me, Skylar, and Maggie when I noticed a bike with some interesting customizations. I’d only paused for maybe thirty seconds when the douche slapped my ass and asked me if I liked what I saw. Jerk.

“You’ve got a mouth on you, don’t ya, honey? Bet I could give you more interesting things to do with that mouth,” he chuckled.

“Try it and I’ll bite it off,” I snapped. “Wouldn’t take much. Douchebags like you rarely have a lot to offer. Compensating much?”

His face fell, even while his friends cackled and hooted. Bikers didn’t appreciate being put in their place, but women didn’t appreciate being touched without permission. Fair was fair in my books.

“Keep talkin’, bitch. I’ll show you exactly how much I got to offer,” he growled, pushing to his feet.

“Do we have a problem here?” a familiar voice spoke behind me. I looked over my shoulder, biting back a scowl. I hated needing the help and knowing Wraith, he’d never let me forget it. He hovered worse than my brother and my dad combined.

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