Page 23 of Twister's Salvation
Swift came bounding down the stairs two at a time, his cut flapping behind him.“Somebody light your fuse, Prez?”
Hodge followed, all slow swagger and resting murder face.The man didn’t talk much, but he didn’t need to.His presence said it all: dark jeans, black boots, plain black tee under his cut.Dude was a fuck-around-and-find-out poster child.
Magnum came from the garage side and wiped grease off his hands with a towel.“What’s the play?”
“We’re going for a walk,” I said and headed for the front door again.
“Hell yes,” Swift grinned and cracked his knuckles.“I don’t care where we’re going; I know that look on your face.We’re about to kick some ass.”
Hodge slid his sunglasses over his eyes without a word.
“Where we going?”Magnum asked, voice low.
“First, we’re gonna talk,” I said.“Then if they don’t want to listen...we’ll see where it goes.”
Magnum chuckled behind me.“This is gonna be fun.”
We stepped out onto the sidewalk like a goddamn wall of leather and attitude.Four patched-up, pissed-off bikers strolling down State Street wasn’t a sight most people forgot.We moved like we owned the pavement.
Swift adjusted his shades.“You wanna clue us in before we get there, Prez?”
“Frank and Nick,” I said.“From the bike shop down the street.”
Hodge grunted.“The fuck’s a Frank and Nick?”
“They own F & N Bikes,” I explained.“Apparently, they paid Tempi a visit yesterday, asked her if she knew anything about us.Warned her.Told her to keep her eyes open.”
Magnum whistled low.“They haven’t even met us yet.”
“Exactly,” I muttered.“They’ve got no idea who we are, but they’ve already got an opinion.That tells me they’re either scared, jealous, or hiding something.”
Swift smirked.“I vote for all three.”
We passed Badger’s Den.The lights inside were low, but I didn’t look in.No need to stir Tempi up again.She’d already warned me not to start shit, but I wasn’t starting it.I was just finishing it.
A block later, we hit the corner and waited at the light.Cars zipped by.A city bus rumbled past.People stared, then looked away just as quick.
Once the light flipped, we crossed.
F & N Bikes stood two stores in.The exterior was clean, modern, big windows, sleek black and silver sign with minimalist lettering.Try-hard trendy bullshit.
Magnum squinted up at it.“Could you imagine thinking riding a bicycle is fun?”
Swift snorted.“No motor?No soul.”
We pushed inside.A chime announced us like some dainty tea party guests.The air inside smelled like rubber and citrus cleaner.Bikes lined the walls.Road bikes, mountain bikes, and those overpriced electric hybrids that made you look like a lazy asshole with too much money.Shelves were stacked with helmets, gloves, water bottles, and whatever other overpriced shit cyclists needed to feel superior.
Hodge wandered over to a matte black bike with thin tires.“This thing’s almost the price of a fucking Harley.”
“And you can only go ten miles an hour on the damn thing,” Swift said, pretending to twist an imaginary throttle.“Give me a Harley any day, brother.”
A guy behind the counter glanced up, and his eyes widened behind his wire-rimmed glasses.He wore a branded F & N polo and looked like he might wet himself.“C-can I help you?”
I strolled forward and leaned against the glass counter.“We were just looking for Frank and Nick.Wanted to introduce ourselves.Be neighborly,” I drawled.
The guy nodded fast.“Y-yeah.I’ll get them.”
He disappeared into the back.Muffled voices followed, low and rushed.
