Page 69 of Piper's Pyro

“It’s biker lingo. Church is just a meeting where we all gather at the table.” Cobra slammed a wooden mallet on the table, and I flinched. “I’m calling church to order.”

Jesus, fuck. Were they going to vote on my sentencing? Convict and hang me before Piper returned to save my ass?

“You don’t need to be nervous,” Buff said across from me. “This is just standard protocol. Cobra’s just being dramatic with all the mystery bullshit.”

I forced a smile. “Yeah, sure.”

“I brought you here to see and hear a little about the club. Aren’t you the least bit curious?” Cobra asked.

“Of course.”

“The life we lead is unpredictable, dangerous, fun, and all about family. When our territory is threatened, we work night and day to protect it. We offer protection to local businesses, for a cost, of course. We participate in charity runs, donate to the hospital, and play Secret Santa.”

“Unfortunately, we haven’t been very charitable the last year because of that fucker, Forrest,” Ben said. “Now that he’s gone, we’ll get back to doing what we do best.”

“And what’s that?” I scanned the room to avoid Ben’s laser stare.

“Providing for our territory. We’re kings in this state. Our people respect us. Some struggle financially and so we help out. We’re not selfish assholes.”

“I didn’t think you were.”

“But we are outlaws and live by our own rules.” Ben clucked his tongue and radiated pride.

“I had no idea what a motorcycle club did. Just thought you were a bunch of badasses on Harleys with the best-looking old ladies on the planet.”

Hustler laughed. “Well, you weren’t wrong. But there’s more to us.”

“I see that now.”

“Do you?” Cobra asked. “That’s good because we’ll be down two members in a couple of weeks. The Goode brothers are transferring to Bone’s club.”

I wasn’t sure what he was saying, but my heart started to pound against my chest.

“He’s asking if you’d be interested in prospecting,” Spectre said with a bite in his tone. “That’s where you do all the menial shit, get abused byus, and if you’re successful, you get patched in. Do you even know how to ride a bike?”

What the actual fuck? Do they want me to be one of them?

“You gotta know how to ride.” Ben folded his hands on the table and studied me. “You look like a biker with all the tattoos and muscle. Maybe a little too pretty, but we’ll rough you up.”

“Wow, I didn’t see any of this coming. I guess I should say I’m honored.” But also insulted. Had they forgotten I was a drummer and had a life in California?

“But?” Cobra hiked a dark brow.

“But I don’t know how to ride a motorcycle, and I’m an anti-violence, free-spirited person and peaceful musician.” My mouth went dry.

“My cousin Storm’s computer guy vetted you. You’re clean as a whistle. Only a couple of parking tickets,” Cobra said.

“You had me vetted? Isn’t that an infringement on my privacy?”

“Nope,” Spectre replied. “You’re in our territory now, remember?”

Cobra raised his hand at Spectre. “Grizzly discovered articles about your sister Rachel and her death, which we are all sorry to hear.”

Nods and grunts circled the room.

I vaulted out of my seat. “How dare you go digging into my life. That’s private!” I rolled my hands into fists. “You people had no right!”

“It’s good to see you fired up. Wouldn’t you like to make the bullies pay for the way they tormented your little sister? Wouldn’t you like to avenge her? Protect other vulnerable women and children because that’s what we do.”

---