Page 14 of My Three S**y Bikers

I needed a drink and a cold shower to clear my mind. I headed to the bar before returning home for the shower. While getting myself together and enjoying a shot of whiskey, I couldn’t believe Steel, with his hair slicked back like John Travolta in the movieGrease, confidently walked through the doors.

Fuck!

That was enough to kill my boner and have me in need of the bottle, and not the damn shot that I’d just had.

Dad said they were the same age, but Steel had more lines on his face than a crumpled piece of paper. And his jeans were too tight for him. Dad said the man was stuck in the 70s. Whatever. I hated him, and as usual a toothpick was constantly in his mouth, and his hand held a comb as he stopped to comb his hair as if someone were about to film him. He had enough gel in there to hold it in place for a year.

“Get out, Steel. We’re closed, and you’re outside of your turf,” I shouted, thinking I needed him out of my sight because I was wound up enough as it was.

“The old man, Tank, died, and he left me this place,” he smirked as he came closer.

What the fuck?

“Why would the original member of the Devil’s Legacy leave you his share of the land? You’re a liar. Now get the fuck out!”

I knew Dad rebuilt the club. He told me he used the money he’d saved from his unlawful days, details of which he didn’t share, and he built the house, too. Before it had just the track at the back, which had been used for races a long time ago. So, long ago, that . I wouldn’t have guessed that was what it was for, if he hadn’t had told me and showed me a pic of it.

Steel grinned. “Daddy dearest been telling you lies.”

What?

As if on cue, Dad walked in behind him. As if he knew that something was going on, because I was pretty sure when I saw him earlier, he said he was going to bed.

I was confused, but Dad’s face turned red.

“I’m being generous Lucky Junior and giving you four weeks to leave. You need to get out. All of you,” he spat as he turned to face Dad.

I shook my head. “No. You may own the land, but not the house nor the club that it has been built on.”

As I said the words, I realized it made no sense. I took a swig from the bottle, because I knew something was wrong. Dad was too damn quiet, and then Randy, the local sheriff walked in, too. What the fuck was everyone doing here when it was getting to the early hours of the morning?

“Yes, but it’s on Steel’s land,” Randy said. “It’s not like you can take it with you. I’m really sorry about this news, Scar. I was going to wait until tomorrow morning to tell you, but Steel insisted on it being tonight.”

I joined Dad on the other side of the bar, thinking he would say something and shed some light on this.

“When did the old man die?” Dad asked calmly.

Steel looked at his watch. I was surprised he had an analogue one, but he used his free hand to count the minutes. “Twenty-five minutes ago. As soon as he was pronounced dead at the hospital, I came straight here.”

Randy sighed. “Fucking drunk driver. He killed him. The old man was going for his usual star gazing across the road, and a car hit him.”

“You got the driver?” I asked.

The first thing that came to mind was that Steel had something to do with it.

“Yeah, he’s in custody. Look it’s been a long night. The eviction papers will be served…” Randy explained.

What the fuck?

The old man hasn’t even been buried, and they’re ready to kick us out.

“No need. I have them.” Steel said as he handed them over to Dad.

Shouldn’t a lawyer be submitting the eviction papers?

“You see, the old man wanted you gone a long time ago. This was never Devil’s Legacy land. This was always fucking Demon Saints land. Your papa managed to con the old man into thinking otherwise.”

“Bullshit! He hated what you’d driven the club to, which was why he gave it to me!” Dad said in his defense. And then it hit me, why Dad had been quiet. It was written all over his face. He was sad. Probably grieving about the old man’s death, and he was probably trying to take in the news, but Steel wouldn’t let him.

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