Page 5 of Her Grumpy Biker
“Diego,” I repeat. “Thanks for trusting me.”
I spin on my heel and head back to the bookstore, though I look at him over my shoulder before heading inside. He’s staringafter me, his mouth open slightly in shock. I grin, knowing at least I’ve piqued his interest, too.
3
DIEGO
“Remember Bruise and Slim?” Rock, our President, asks the club. He called church a few hours ago, and the last of the members just walked in the backroom of The Black Crown, where we hold our meetings.
A few men nod their heads while others scoff. The two men in question, along with Stitch and Guardrail, had attempted to join the Savage Kings a while ago. They didn’t make it past the prospect stage due to selfishness, theft, and a general lack of alignment with the rest of us. They even gave themselves road names despite never being patched in. Typically, the club gives you a name. I suppose that says everything about these stupid fuckers.
“Apparently, they don’t take rejection too well,” Rock continues. “We’ve been keeping tabs on the merry band of assholes, and I just got confirmation that they’ve formed their own MC, Sons of Decimation.”
“Can they even spell decimation?” Moose jokes.
“They don’t have to be able to spell in order to do a fuck-ton of damage around this town,” Rock snaps back.
We recently elected Dane Johnston, aka Rock, as our President. He’s a veteran, like most of us in Savage Kings,and he’s a natural leader. Rock takes his new role in the club seriously, which is why he’s not in the mood to joke about a potential enemy.
“Sorry, Prez,” Moose grunts.
Rock nods and then picks up where he left off. “Right now, things are still new. We can dismantle them before they can grow into a real threat. They’re gathering funds, I’m guessing, for a clubhouse, equipment, and likely a stockpile of weapons.”
The room is filled with scoffs and grunts of anger. I take a deep breath and let this new information sink in. Something is scratching at the back of my brain, but I can’t quite put the pieces together.
Old prospects turned rivals, raising money for a clubhouse…
“I know one of their scams,” I suddenly announce. “I saw a man I thought I recognized outside of Bloom & Bounty the other day. He was asking people for their personal information, probably to steal their identities and drain their bank accounts. I almost forgot about Bruise and his boys, but it was definitely him.”
“Shit,” Rock mutters. “They’re already trying to ruin this town for their own selfish gain. I have no doubt they’ll be running drugs soon if they haven’t started already. Making and selling meth is a quick way to make a ton of cash.”
More disgruntled sounds fill the room, each of us thinking of ways to punish the failed prospects. As the Enforcer for Savage Kings, I’m lucky enough to be the one to dole out the punishment. God, it’s going to be satisfying to feel their bones break beneath my fists.
“I think I know what their next play is,” Chip, our computer whiz, chimes in. He’s on the younger side, easy to please, and always happy to help. Most importantly, he knows more about tracking, hacking, and all things technological than anyone I’veever met. “Prez, you’re right about them cooking meth. I got a tip that the first batch is ready to be distributed.”
“Fuck that,” I grumble. I’m joined by several of my brothers, who share the same sentiment.
Rock and Chip discuss the details of the stakeout while I rub my temples in hopes of clearing my headache. Savior, our VP, joins in the conversation, and soon, everyone’s voices are overlapping. I close my eyes and focus on my breathing, only to be interrupted by chairs scraping against the concrete floor.
“Hey,” Reaper says, clapping a hand over my shoulder. “You doing okay?”
I look up at him and nod. Cold gray eyes stare back, but I know our Road Captain better than that. Reaper is another veteran. We all have a haunted gaze, and most of us can recognize PTSD symptoms in each other.
Reaper doesn’t say anything else; he just squeezes my shoulder and tips his chin toward the exit. He’s letting me know he’ll cover for me and fill me in on any details I might miss.
Once outside, I roll my shoulders out and lift my face toward the sky. The dark, looming haze of anxiety dissipates the longer I’m outside, taking deep breaths. After a few moments of soaking in the crisp autumn air, I hop on my bike and head home. Or, at least, I intend to head home.
Instead of turning right at the end of the road, I take a left into town. I should go back to my place and throw myself into fixing up the house I purchased a few months ago. God knows I have a dozen projects to complete before winter hits and makes construction difficult.
Despite knowing all of this, I take another right and park in front of Tall Tales & Turned Pages.
What the hell am I doing here?
No sooner do I have the thought than the answer pops into my head:Camden.
I shake my head at the memory of her walking up to me yesterday. I didn’t know she worked at the bookstore, but now I can’t seem to forget. She marched across the street and greeted me as if I were… her friend. It was the strangest thing.
Even stranger is the fact that I told her my real name, after admitting my nickname came from my time in the military. I mean, what the fuck kind of spell did she cast over me? Unlike Camden, I never disclose personal information, whether it’s my Social Security Number or my medical history. This woman somehow got me to talk, which is a dangerous thing to do.
