Page 13 of Walking Red Flag

Plus, all of us had people we cared about, and we didn’t want them to find out we were dead because our heads met pavement and exploded like a cantaloupe.

“Boys,” I drawled as I threw my leg over my Fat Boy and leaned far enough to the side to swing the kickstand free.

“Coastguard,” Detroit, whose real name was Audric, greeted me. “Ready to ride?”

Coastguard was the name given to me by the old president of the Truth Tellers. He’d been a Navy man himself and knew how to insult a fellow Navy man.

“Sure am,” I breathed. “It’s been a long ass day.”

I started my bike up, and we went to the next house, which just so happened to be where Apollo had been spending his evening. Apollo’s real name was actually Finnian.

Apollo was running out of the house without his boots on.

He didn’t have his belt, shirt or cut on, either.

He did, however, have his helmet strapped to his head.

“Bruh,” Bodie, whose road name is Knight, drawled. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Apollo flipped the visor up on his helmet, and his blazing white grin shone through. “Getting caught up on all the gossip.”

“Hopefully you don’t get caught up on the clap,” Posy, better known as Doc, grumbled. “Seriously, she’s been sleeping with everyone at the hospital.”

Doc, being a paramedic, would know. He spent a lot of time there.

“I know, I know.” Apollo groaned. “But she gives really good head.”

I had to laugh as we started off, this time heading to Hagrid’s place.

Hagrid met us at the road before his house came into view, and I raised a brow at him.

He shrugged, but knew it was likely due to the way his girlfriend would yell at him about leaving as soon as he’d gotten home.

Once we’d caught up with him, Piers, whose road name was Webber, our de facto president, signaled for us to ride.

We did, going from I75 to I30, which would eventually take us to the road around the lake, which was where we preferred to ride since it was more scenic, and wasn’t fuckin’ wall to wall traffic.

The sound of a bike whizzing past us going the opposite direction had me shaking my head.

Going that fast was exhilarating, but it was stupid.

If you wrecked going that speed, there was no saving you.

You were dead on impact.

The sound of the bike faded, and the sound of my pipes replaced it, allowing me to forget the stupidity of some people and just enjoy the night.

As much as I could, anyway, with all the fuckin’ traffic.

But once we got past the goddamn Costco, things would get a little less busy.

It was a nice night for a ride.

It was mid-March, and it was the first night that it was above seventy in months.

So, of course, the club decided tonight was a perfect night for a ride.

That, and we usually tried to get together on a Wednesday to catch up.

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