Page 11 of Thunder

When he got released, Bullseye got tangled up with the sister of the man who’d set him up and sent him to prison. And that man was with the Enforcers. That wannabe club was becoming an increasing problem for the Phantoms, so Granite killed two birds with one stone, so to speak. Or rather, Blast and Bullseye did.

Blast wiped out the club, all but their Prez. Bullseye did that when he dared put his hands on Bullseye’s woman. Brady got patched in as Blast, and a few months later, Bullseye joined and now, they all gathered to celebrate his ol’ lady and unofficially welcome them to Sin City.

Thunder felt at peace where the club was and where it was heading. There were only two things harshing his mellow. A woman from three years ago and his buddy back at the no-tell motel probably scoring while he sat there drinking with his friends.

“You wouldn’t have Bullseye’s old apartment and job still available, would you?”

“Depends on who you’re thinking could use ‘em.”

“My buddy, Flash, Darren. He was a crew chief I knew back in the day. Good guy. Found himself as a civilian after his third tour overseas with a chip on his shoulder and a bad case of PTSD he won’t talk about.”

Sully sat silently and listened. Thunder finished his whiskey, and another appeared in its place along with a beer back.

“He called me last night in pretty bad shape. Played it off as how I said ‘look me up if you’re ever in Vegas’ kind of thing. But, he seemed strung out and a bit paranoid. Said he’d been staying in Vegas for a while but was vague about where. Also said he didn’t have a problem, he was just cutting loose. But you know as well as I do—”

“Self-medicating,” Thunder and Sully said in unison.

“Yep. If that was it, I think I’d be okay with talking to Granite and taking him back to my place or putting him up in my room here. But, I think it goes deeper.”

“Deeper how? You think he’s hitting something harder or someone harder is hitting him, if you catch my drift.”

Sully was perceptive as hell. “The second one. I think to balance his debts, he’s getting into shit that could put him on the wrong side of us.” There, he’d said it.

When Flash passed out last night, Thunder did a little snooping. He found a few guns that he shouldn’t have had and some bags with pills with a familiar sticker on the plastic. An outline of a snake with four bends, a sharpened tail, forked tongue, and a row of three shadow lines coming down from those bends.DemonSidewinders.

No matter if Sully helped his friend or not, Granite needed to know that the Sidewinders were back at it and rebuilding. The best thing for all involved was to get Flash beyond their reach and influence before the Phantoms were forced to go after them.

“You look me in the eye and tell me he’s a good man who’s just lost his way. That the Darren you know other than the self-medicating part is someone you’d go to the mat for? Then, yeah, they’re available.”

“He is. I wouldn’t have asked if he wasn’t.”

“That’s enough for me. I can take him with me in the morning when I drive back. Because tonight, I plan on testing Granite’s hospitality and promise of all I could drink.”

They shared a laugh and a few more drinks when the surrounding buzz got louder. They were discussing Darren when Thunder heard Blast explain their unique clubhouse to someone. Most people found their whole compound fascinating.

It’d belonged to a man who had seven wives. He’d had four when he built the building they’d converted into their clubhouse; so it had four different wings that were basically entire houses. Now they served as the officer’s wing, member’s wing, probie’s wing, and club girls, guest wing.

Their meeting room was an actual church. Their basement was an industrial kitchen with some interesting culinary, and not culinary, features.

The room they sat in had been an oversized family room that Granite converted into a bar with everything an MC could want. Pool table, stocked bar, stripper pole, stain-resistant seating. You name it, they had it. The best part, the houses around back. There were currently seven with room for more as the club grew.

The officers had each claimed one, except Trip who never even spent a night in his. When Bullseye showed up with a family in tow, he’d moved into Trip’s place. Most of the officers spent more time in the clubhouse than their own homes anyway.

Thunder laughed a little to himself as he listened to Blast go on and on about it. He wasn’t the only one. Their clubhouse fascinated most women, so there wasn’t a single one of them who hadn’t tried to impress a woman with it from time to time. But it sounded like Blast was working hard to get into the pants of the tattoo chick.

Thunder assumed that’s who it was since the young buck hadn’t shut up about her since she’d inked him. Thunder scratched his beard as he glanced back over his shoulder and out of the corner of his eye to where a small group stood chatting. Blast and his date had their backs to him while talking with Bullseye, Billie, Priest, and Pound.

Tattoo chick must’ve said something clever, because the entire group erupted, capturing Trip’s attention from his other side. He swiveled his stool and low whistled to himself.

“Fuck if she isn’t fine. That ass alone could make a grown man weep. I give Blast about two minutes to close that deal or I am moving in.”

“Moving in where?” Lexi asked as she leaned against the bar, right between Thunder and Trip to order a drink.

Thunder chuckled and prodded. “Yeah, Trip, where?” If Trip’d had his .44 mag on him, Thunder might’ve been sporting a ventilation hole in his brain if the death glare he was receiving was any indication. Fuck it, Trip deserved it. The fucker had basically been giving him shit for three years. He could suffer through one night of retaliation.

Trip angled back toward the bar. “Why, your heart, of course, darlin’. Just as soon as you admit that you want me and let me give you a night of pleasure you won’t forget.”

Smooth.

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