Page 21 of Chasing Lyric
LYRIC
The gun taps twice on my window, my breath inhaling sharply as I stare down the barrel. “Uhh… Chase?” I whisper, fear rising through me that if I speak too loudly, I might startle this bulging biker before me.
He chuckles, rolling down his window, sticking his head out. “Hey, sorry to approach unannounced. I’m Chase, a friend of Rip’s. He knows we’re coming.”
The older guy, who somehow makes that salt-and-pepper look he is sporting look good for a rebel, slings the rifle back on his shoulder, but says nothing to us. Simply steps aside and speaks into the radio on his shoulder.
I spin facing Chase and widen my eyes. “You said nothing about a freaking biker club,” I whisper, but forcefully.
He shrugs with a mischievous grin. “Would you have come with me if I did?”
Shaking my head adamantly, I flare my nostrils at him. “No. Absolutely no—”
“You can head on in. Rip vouched for you,” the older guy states, glancing down through the window at me with a devilish grin.
“Thanks, man,” Chase simply says as the gates open and he pulls into the massive parking lot.
My eyes widen, taking in the sight of this enormous place. My palms are sweating as we drive into what can only be described as a fortress. The insignia of the LA Defiance MC clubhouse looms ahead of us, and everything about it screamsdangerous territory. Chain-link fencing topped with razor wire surrounds the compound, security cameras are positioned at strategicintervals, and the building itself looks like it could withstand a damn military assault.
What the hell have I gotten myself into?
I feel completely out of place, my eyes wide as I take in the clubhouse, those big, burly bikers walking toward us in those intimidating club cuts. I clutch onto Chase’s arm, feeling entirely out of my depth in a place like this. “This is… wow,” I murmur, staring at the massive Defiance logo painted on the side of the building. A pair of skulls morphing into engines with wings sends a chill down my spine. “I had no idea places like thisactuallyexisted. I thought it was all show for movies and television shows, but this is… wow,” I repeat, unable to find a better word.
Chase chuckles beside me, clearly amused by my reaction. “Different world, isn’t it?”
Different world is a damn understatement.
My eyes dart everywhere, taking in the rows of motorcycles parked in perfect formation, the men in leather cuts watching our arrival with calculating expressions. These aren’t the kind of people you see at the farmer’s market or grabbing coffee on Main Street. These are real, legitimate bikers who look like they could snap me in half without breaking a sweat.
We step out of the truck, and I jump around, looping my arm with Chase, more to comfort my nerves. I clutch Chase’s arm tighter, suddenly grateful he is here with me. Whatever his connection to these people, at least I’m not walking into this alone.
Suddenly, a guy with sun-bleached hair comes flying past the other men, running toward us with unbridled excitement. When he reaches Chase, he slams into him with the kind of full-body hug you’d expect from long-lost brothers.
“Guys, come meet Chase and Lyric. Dude, it is so freaking gnarly to see you again, man,” the blonde guy says, continuing to slap Chase on the back.
Gnarly? This is Rip?He isnotwhat I expected from Chase’s descriptions, but there’s something immediately likable about his easy-going energy.
Two other men approach us. One who clearly commands respect just by the way he carries himself, and another whose protective instincts are written all over his face. They’re both studying Chase and me like we’re potential threats.
The commanding one extends his hand. “Chase.”
“Heard a lot about you, Alpha,” Chase replies, gripping his hand firmly. “Rip’s told me some stories.”
His name is Alpha. Got it!
Alpha raises an eyebrow, his gaze flicking between Chase and Rip. “How do you know Rip?”
I watch as Chase glances at me, then at Rip, and something unspoken passes between them. There’s definitely more to their relationship than surfing buddies, but Rip jumps in with an explanation, “We used to be surfing bros back in the day. Chasing gnarly waves and the babes, am I right?” Rip waggles his eyebrows with a chuckle.
Chase fights back a grin. “Ahh… something like that,” he says, glancing at me with what I can only describe as mild panic.
I can’t help but tease him. “Hey, I’ve only known you for a hot minute, Chase. So please don’t hold back your manwhoring ways because of me.”
Rip pulls Chase to him, chuckling loudly. “Oh no, Betty. You got my man all wrong. Chase ain’t like that now. He’s all cool and calm like a soft breeze. He’s not about the babes now. Right, bro?”
Chase exhales, shaking his head with a smile. “I’m not sure you’re helping, Rip. But thanks for trying.”
Betty?I file away that interesting nickname choice.
