Page 25 of Sinful
That's why I ride.
The wind, the engine, the endless stretch of asphalt—it all drowns out the noise.
The memories. The fire.
The things I'd rather forget but can't.
By the time I hit Tallahassee city limits, the sun's starting its descent.
Not quite sunset but getting there, the sky going soft around the edges.
I follow the directions Runes texted—north out of the city, away from the urban sprawl, into land that's more rural but not quite country.
Florida's different from Texas.
Greener. Wetter.
The air tastes like humidity and swamp, thick enough to coat your lungs.
The trees are different too—live oaks dripping with Spanish moss instead of mesquite, palmetto scrub instead of sagebrush.
But the heat is the same.
That oppressive, relentless heat that makes you understand why people go crazy in the South.
The Raiders of Valhalla compound sits on maybe fifty acres, surrounded by a fence that's trying to look decorative but is clearly security.
Eight feet tall, wrought iron with spikes on top, cameras every twenty yards.
The gate is solid steel, automated, with a guard shack that's currently occupied by a prospect who looks barely old enough to shave.
I pull up and kill the engine.
The sudden silence is almost loud after ten hours of rumbling.
"Can I help you?" the prospect asks, stepping out. He's got his hand near his weapon—not on it, but close. Good instincts for someone young.
"Brazos. Shotgun Saints. Runes is expecting me."
Recognition flashes across his face. "Yes, sir. One second." He speaks into a radio, gets confirmation, and the gate rolls open with a mechanical groan. "Straight ahead to the main building. Park anywhere. Someone'll meet you."
"Appreciated."
The compound is impressive in a different way than Sharp Shooter Ranch.
Not sprawling and open, but concentrated and fortified.
The main building dominates the space—an old warehouse that's been converted into something between a fortress and a clubhouse.
Three stories of brick and steel, with newer additions that speak to money and planning.
Security cameras are everywhere, some obvious, some hidden.
Motion sensors in the trees.
Probably pressure sensors in the driveway.
These boys take protection seriously.
