1. Basher
BASHER
Stepping out into the heat of the Nevada sun felt like a soothing, warm blanket, finally welcoming him home after years of being left out in the cold.
He stood there for a moment, letting the warmth roll over his heavily inked skin. He fucking loved the heat. Being able to stand outside under the hot sun, breathing in that fresh, non-recycled air, was a gift he would cherish always.
After spending the last two years in a six-by-eight-foot Nevada State prison cell, being able to step out into the open air and not having to worry about someone shivving him in the back was a blessing he would not take for granted.
A honk to Basher’s left caught his attention.
Stepping out of a souped-up SUV was Bradly, his boss and the leader of the Death Cruisers Motorcycle Club.
He raised his hand to get Basher’s attention.
Nodding, Basher made his way over to his boss.
“So, they finally let your sorry ass out of prison?” Bradly asked, wrapping his arms around Basher and pulling him into a burly bro hug.
Men in motorcycle clubs hugged for one of two reasons: either to welcome their buddy home from prison or to send them off to be murdered.
Basher was pretty sure he wasn’t being sent off to be murdered, so he gladly returned the hug, giving his boss two powerful claps on his back for good measure.
“It’s good to see you, boss,” Basher said, pulling away and taking in the view around him. “Didn’t realize how much I’d miss the open space.”
Bradly slung his arm over Basher’s shoulders and walked him around to the passenger side of the SUV.
“Makes you grateful for what you have once you get out.” He opened the door for Basher, then walked back around to the driver’s side.
Basher got into the air-conditioned vehicle and immediately noticed the mountain of bags sitting in the back seat.
“You got a shopping addiction all of a sudden?” Basher asked as his boss started the vehicle. Basher unrolled the window so he could breathe in the outdoor air once again.
God, he didn’t realize how much he missed being able to enjoy breathing fresh air. People didn’t realize how lucky they were until something so precious was taken away.
His boss glanced over his shoulder at the bags, then nodded. “Umm, well, those are for you.”
Basher looked over at him, waiting for an explanation.
Pulling out of the parking space, they began heading east, away from the facility that had been Basher’s life for the past two years.
Silence filled the SUV as Basher waited patiently for his boss to speak. Basher didn’t have a problem with silence. In fact, he welcomed it. He wasn’t much of a talker, saving his words for when they really mattered.
After a few minutes, his boss finally glanced over at him and took a breath.
“I’m sending you east to New Mexico. We got word that Caplan and his crew are looking for some payback for what you did to his son that night at the bar. Caplan wasn’t too thrilled that you made his second-in-command look like the pussy that he is. So, rumor has it, they’re looking for blood.”
Basher nodded.
He kind of expected something like that. When you beat up the son of a local mob boss, you tend to get a bull’s-eye drawn on your back.
Not that the Caplan crew hadn’t already tried while he was in prison. He fought off two attempts to take him out: one in the yard and one while he was showering.
The last one landed him in the infirmary for a few days. Pussy motherfucker snuck up on him while he was rinsing shampoo from his eyes—the only time he let his guard down.
Being stabbed in the gut was not something he would ever recommend to anyone.
“I’ve arranged for you to join the Shadow Vipers crew in New Mexico. The leader, Marcus, is a close friend of mine, and he will take good care of you while you’re there. Once this whole thing with Caplan blows over, you can come back to us.”
Basher nodded.
He understood why his boss was doing this. It was for his own safety and because Bradly cared. But still, it felt a bit like when he was a kid—being kicked out of one foster home and sent to live with another family.
Trying not to show his disappointment, Basher swallowed hard, keeping his tough, stone-faced expression firmly in place as he turned to look out the window once again.
A hand fell on his thigh.
“Hey, this isn’t me kicking you out, Bash. You’re family, and I only want you to be safe. You’re still a part of this crew and always will be.”
Basher nodded but refused to turn to face his former boss.
He knew he was overreacting, but years of being emotionally beaten tend to have that effect on even the toughest of guys.
“You can drop me off at my place, then take this SUV with you. The directions to Marcus’s bar are already programmed into the GPS. I’ll have one of the guys ride up with your bike in a few days. Marcus has some items for us to pick up, so we can just do a swap and bring the SUV back at that time.”
Finally, Basher managed to gather enough strength to turn and face his buddy and boss.
He wasn’t being kicked out or abandoned.
He was being sent away for his own protection because his boss cared about him… and wanted to make sure he didn’t get hurt.
“Sure thing, boss,” he managed to say, trying his hardest to believe what his head was telling him, even though his heart was telling him something else.