Page 13 of Bound by Family
“Never.” He gives me another kiss then steps back. “Alright, you need anything, you can call us. We won’t be able to come back, though. We’ll be home in two days.”
“Yes, kemosabe.”
“Smartass,” he grumbles, going toward the door. Gotta love my brother. “And, Bristyl, stay aware,” he warns before stepping through and taking off.
The warning isn’t unusual, but the way he said it is. Stay aware seems like there’s an actual threat, but no one has said anything.
It must be in my head.
CHAPTER SIX
COOPER
The wind in my hair and heat on my skin is freeing. It’s life. Being on a bike, not surrounded by metal, is like floating on air. The high from riding is something I hope never dies. Riding with my club, my family, it’s unexplainable. A brother flanking me to the front, the side, and the rear, we move as if we are one. And we are. There isn’t a thing I wouldn’t do for any of these men, and them for me.
We’ve been riding for the past four hours with a few stops along the way. Now we are almost at our first destination—a meeting with a client who wants us to transport for him.
Normally, Ravage is up for anything, but this time, it’s coke. We don’t deal in coke. Never have. That shit is fierce. Weed, we’re good with. But since most states have legalized it and people can grow the shit in their basement, that leaves little to transport. We kept to guns because they are lucrative and in demand.
Coke is in demand, too, but something we just haven’t done. The guy, Tommy Bean, wants a sit down, and we voted to do it at church. Pops thought it would be good to keep relations because we do supply Tommy with guns. Rhys has some issues, not giving a flying fuck about biker relations. He says he’s not a fucking PR person.
He’s right, but times are changing. Our word is and always has been our bond. Now we’ve expanded so much that we need to keep everyone on point. Knowledge is power, and we need to know exactly what Tommy wants to do with his product and where he wants it to go. The main goal in this meeting is to get information and smooth shit over when we decline.
While I’m all for keeping everyone on an even keel, I’m there with Rhys. If they come at us and don’t back down, we’ll do what we have to do to extinguish it.
I’m not dealing with anyone trying to get us to do anything. We are Ravage—we do what we want, when we want. If we have to take out the whole crew, so be it. It’ll be in Tommy’s best interest to remember that.
Pops leads the pack, with Becs, Dagger, GT, Rhys, my father, Tug, Breaker, and Buzz right behind him. Dagger has been with the club since my great-grandfather Striker was around. He’s a burly man with long hair he braids down his back and always has a red, white, and blue bandana around his head. The stories of him back in the day paint him as a man who played with a lot of pussy. Now, his ol’ lady, Mearna, would gut him, and he knows it.
Tug is another brother who joined back when Buzz and Breaker did. His ol’ lady, Blaze, used to strip at X, but now works side by side with my mother.
After them are Green, Ryker, Derek, Jacks, and myself.
We are one. Pops turns his bike, we all do. We are a pack. A family. We follow each move Pops makes, keeping our eyes open to everything around us. Observation is key, and knowing our surroundings at all times is a must.
Back in the day, we’d have someone staying back at the clubhouse to take care of the women and children. Now, Ravage doesn’t have any threats or reason for such protection. That doesn’t mean we left them alone. Four prospects are at the clubhouse, just in case.
We follow Pops into the parking lot of a place called Schooners Bar, off the main highway. I take note of the five bikes in the parking lot, three trucks, and two cars. There’s wide open space around the blue tinted block building; therefore, no surprises.
Tug and Buzz break off, and Ryker follows them. They’re going around the building to make sure it’s secure. We may not have a threat, but we take our safety very seriously.
Surprisingly, none of the ol’ ladies wanted to come with us on this trip. It shocked me because my mother is always up for an adventure, but she said she had shit to deal with at X.
Pops parks his bike, and we follow suit, making a row of steel machines in front of the bar. I reach around my back and make sure my gun is holstered. Even with conceal and carry, it’s not smart for a man with a cut on his back to be found with a gun, but I refuse to be without. The metal has been checked and is totally clean, just in case.
“Let’s do this. Florida is calling,” Pops says after Rhys gives him the all-clear, strolling into the place. He’s as confident as ever, but the small twitch in his cheek is leading me more to my conclusion that he’s about done.
The inside is dark, so I remove my shades to see clearly. It’s a typical dive bar that looks like it should have been shut down years ago, but somehow, they keep it afloat. There’s a large bar to the left, and a wide-open space to the right. There are two doors. One has a window and looks like it leads to the kitchen area. The other door, I assume, is a bathroom. I’ve learned never to assume. Find out facts. Facts, you can deal with. Assumptions, you can’t.
Tommy sits in the corner of the bar. His hair has a comb-over that looks like it’s been fucking teased by a brush. It seems he’s having a hard time with getting older and losing his hair. Three other men sit around him. Sizing them up, they have bulk, but numbers alone have us on top.
“Tommy,” Pops greets, strolling up to the table.
Tommy rises and holds out his hand. “Pops and the Ravage boys.”
His other men stand, and we all shake.
“Nice of ya ta stop by,” Tommy says.
