Chapter Twelve.
Frost looked back just once as he threw his leg over the bike. He barely settled in the seat when he brought the beast to life.
Kicking it into gear he rolled away from the cabin following Maddog as they left a trail of dust behind them.
He had no idea what had happened, no idea if something happened to one of their brothers.
Being part of the club meant he went when called; there was no not going.
It was part of the life. Part of the code.
Brotherhood wasn’t just a word—it was a bond forged in loyalty, tested by fire, and strengthened by blood.
They lived by a code, one that demanded honor, respect, and trust. Those things made up the foundation of a brotherhood that stood against all odds.
They were bound together by an unbreakable loyalty.
The Broke Bastard’s would fight, bleed and die for one another, because in their world nothing mattered more than the men riding besides you.
Frost thought he should have stopped long enough to explain to Constance that he might not be back right away. That he’d make sure she got home in the morning. He hadn’t done either. As soon as Maddog said they needed to ride he was on the move.
Now that he was on the road all the what he should’ve done thoughts flooded his mind.
The problem he was having was when had he decided to be in a relationship with Constance?
Maybe he was over thinking things. She probably didn’t think they were dating.
Fuck if she didn’t. Because he sure as fuck was thinking they had jumped in with both feet first and with their eyes wide open.
The sun was settling down on the horizon leaving the evening sky painted in pinks, and purples. He kept Maddog in his sights as they ripped down the country road heading for whatever danger awaited them.
Any other time he felt intensely connected to the road. He was always aware of every subtle change in the surface through the handlebars and seat.
The motorcycle’s weight and low center of gravity provide a stable ride as he leaned into curve after curve. The constant vibrations reminded him of the bond between him, the bike, and the world around him. Around him was a two-hundred-degree view unobstructed by windows or walls.
He could smell the environment, fresh cut hay, dry dust, and the scent of cattle off in the fields. The temperature dropped as they got closer to the nearby river. He was fully immersed in his surroundings, his mind clear and focused, alert.
Frost couldn’t keep Constance out of her head; he should have pulled her to him. He hadn’t given her the choice to walk him to the door. Had she watched him get on his Harley and roll out of sight. Fuck. he hadn’t kissed her goodbye.
Shaking himself out of his thoughts Frost down shifted and tapped the brakes as he hit a turn a little too fast. He managed to keep it on two wheels.
They blasted down the highway. They were locked and loaded.
Two of their own had a date with destiny.
The reaper’s looking for two more victims and they were willing to hand them over into his waiting arms. In their world, you didn’t betray the club.
The code. The brotherhood. The family. Twisting the throttle they ripped down the highway.
Undertaker had gotten the call telling him there was a truck making its way from Austin to the Mexico border carrying steers.
And some of those steers carried his brand.
They’d been looking for the cattle thieves for the past three years.
Now, they had the answers and the names.
Federal law stated ninety-nine years per animal rustled.
The feds could have what was left of the rustlers after Undertaker took them to task.
Switch was a nomad that worked for the department of transportation and had stopped the truck after they had passed an open weigh station.
As he checked the cargo, he noticed the brands on the steers, the one from Big Star Ranch had stood out.
He didn’t recognize the driver or the passenger as members of the club.
But one of them had a t-shirt on with the club’s logo blazing across it.
The two names they’d given Switch had triggered it for the brother, Tiny and Booger had just moved up to prospects after three years of being hang-arounds. Now, they were gonna learn fast and hard what it meant to go against the club.
Switch had put a tail on the truck, and it was now parked in the back lot of a truck stop two hours away.
Frost stared straight ahead, keeping alert as he rode at the back of the pack.
Next to him road Pistol and behind them pulling up the rear was Jinx as he was the Road Captain.
Tonight there were no prospects or hang-arounds riding.
Normally non full patches were allowed around business like this.
But the two prospects they had were the two people that had betrayed them.
So, yeah, they were gonna be up close and personal to this shit tonight.
If anyone knew the sound of a pack of Harleys blasting down the road they’d know they were coming as the pack exited the freeway.
The truck stop stood up on the right-hand side of the road.
Frost followed the rider in front of him knowing Undertaker had given instructions. They circled the building. Some of them parked by the entrances and exits as others rolled through the parking lots looking for the truck.
The low loping thump, thump, thump of the motors bounced off the brick and the concrete. Frost kept his eyes peeled watching for movement. He could see patrons in the truck stop’s restaurant staring out the windows. Unfortunately, this was a busy stop for motorists.
They found the truck parked at the back of the lot. Frost pulled around the back of the truck and shut down his bike. Swinging off his bike he reached for the trailer rails and started to climb.
The steers snorted as they moved around in the tight quarters. Reaching behind his back Frost unholstered his gun and flipped the safety off. Dropping off amongst the cattle, Frost swore under his breath as he landed in cow shit. Undertaker owed him new damn boots after this shit, literally.
Frost’s entire body hummed. His skin crawled with it.
Easing thought the cattle he knew Undertaker and Maddog had him covered, at least he hoped they did.
Somewhere amongst the steers were Tiny and Booger hiding.
Shoving the steers they moved just enough for him to squeeze through searching for the two fuckers.
Noise on the rails had Frost glancing up to see Maddog and Undertaker crawling over the rails holding cattle prods. Fuck, he needed to get out of the trailer before he got trampled on.
He barely got a foot and hand on a rail tugging himself up when a high-pitched scream broke the night. It was Booger. Undertaker had poked him with the cattle prod. Movement across the bed of the trailer Frost caught sight of Tiny trying to climb out.
Whistling to Maddog who was closest, the brother literally ran over the backs of the steers grabbing Tiny throwing him back into the bed of the trailer. Both Tiny and Booger were having a shitty night. And it was only getting started.
A semi-truck pulled up next to the trailer, Switch stepped out of the driver’s side door just as Tiny squealed again.
“You boys need someone to drive this rig back to Broken Bow,” Switch asked.
It wasn’t a bad plan. The semi was owned by Tiny. They knew he was a cross country trucker but had never once thought he was stealing from them.
“Get up, both of you.” Undertaker shouted.
Frost watched as both men stood, each looked like they rolled in cow shit, he chuckled at the sight. They tied them together and left them at the front of the trailer. No one cared if they lived or died on the way back to the Big Star Ranch.