Chapter 16
PD
Thunder cracked and shook the entire clubhouse. I pursed my lips as Dallas and King stared at the drawings on King’s desk. The lights flickered but stayed on. King reached out to rub Dallas’s back, which was sweet, but other than that, everyone was concentrating.
Thinking.
You could practically smell the smoke in the air from all the cogs turning in our brains. Dallas had memorized a lot of info about the bike clubs in this area, and King knew even more than he did.
“We shouldn’t be this fucking stumped.” King dragged a pack of cigarettes close, then pulled one out. He stuck it between his lips but didn’t light it.
“Wishing now I hadn’t kept to our club so much,” I grumbled. “I don’t really know what anyone else is up to besides our guys.”
King shrugged, and with a sigh, Dallas dragged out a lighter and lit King’s cigarette.
He hummed out a grateful sound as he took a puff.
“Well, there’s the Demons, mainly.” Smoke billowed out of his mouth along with the words.
“But there are a few other smaller crews riding in the area. Not clubs, just guys who go out together. We’ve had a lot of them through the club at one point or another.
Usually good guys or at least good-time guys.
” He grinned at me over his shoulder, then went back to staring at my sketches.
I paced because those images had come out of my brain.
“Add in the people who only haul their bikes out to go putz around the lake on sunny days, there’s probably thousands of people who ride in the area.” Will kicked the side of King’s desk.
“Yeah, but these weren’t guys who take their old ladies out to go bird watching on the shore.” King puffed away at his cigarette and a sinking silence settled over us.
Another crack of thunder boomed, and we all looked upward. When the ceiling didn’t come crashing down on our heads, everyone went back to contemplating the desk once again.
I slid in next to Will.
Another boom. This time the lights went off for a few seconds before popping back on.
“This is bad weather for everyone to be out on their bikes,” I grumbled.
“They all know how to ride or they wouldn’t be part of the club,” Will snarked, but I could hear the underpinnings of our old argument in his tone, so I shut my mouth.
I could read a room. Or at least, I could read Will.
The last thing I wanted was to be in the doghouse. I’d much rather be in his ass.
Will nodded at me, thanking me for dropping the subject, but keeping my mouth shut was an act of self-preservation.
The warmth in his gaze lit me on fire and my face flushed.
God, I wanted to fucking please him all the time, but we’d always had the type of relationship where we fought once in a while.
It was worse now, though. Now that I’d been inside him, had his lips on mine.
I didn’t want to fall into the same old habits.
I had some serious motivation on my side to make the lessons I’d learned stick.
Dallas glanced at me and raised his dark eyebrows. “These are more detailed than what you texted to everyone else.”
I shrugged. “Yeah. I keep remembering things. Not enough, though.”
King rested his hip against the desk and tugged Dallas’s ear lightly to get his attention. “Everyone else is out scouring the city for the golden ticket. Why are we farting around here?”
Dallas sighed and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his blue hoodie. “Because whoever did this isn’t going to be sitting in the middle of the road counting singles. The person who finds the money will be the one who uses his head.” He tapped his temple.
King blew out a puff of smoke, then slid behind Dallas and wrapped his arms around him. “Maybe we could think on the road.” He bounced on the balls of his feet, jostling Dallas.
“We’re making this too hard,” Will said, clearly as fed up with trying to make a plan as King. “They’re bikers. Let’s check bars. Not places the Kings hang out, since no one in our club did this.”
“We don’t know that,” Dallas said, but his words were more contemplative than combative.
Will grunted out a noncommittal sound.
“Okay, I love your plan.” Dallas smiled at Will. “And it shouldn’t be someplace in town because you don’t plan and celebrate a heist gone right close to where you pull it off.”
“You don’t if you’re smart.” I rolled my eyes. “But I’ve met my fair share of morons.”
“Well, Quain can probably give Barber an alibi, so that’s one idiot accounted for,” King said. He finished off his cigarette, then walked over to toss the butt in the fireplace.
Will burst out laughing, and I wanted to live in that sound, but I settled for sliding my arm around his solid waist.
“Could’ve been the Demons.” I stared down at my sketches.
“I don’t recognize anyone,” King said for probably the hundredth time with a frown. “Or any of the bikes.”
“Only a real dumbass would use his own bike.” Dallas walked around the desk, like maybe looking from a different direction would help.
“Yeah, but how many people can afford more than one bike?” King slapped the desk and shoved the sketches. “Let’s check out Bullet. It’s outside of town. What’s left of the Warriors hang around there. They get a rough crowd. Might be our spot.”
Dallas pouted at King. “I thought the Warriors were all killed or run out of town.”
King rolled his eyes. “All the worst ones, yeah. But we didn’t exactly salt the earth. Cut off a few heads and the rest of them duck and cover.”
“Works for me.” I noticed Will tuning out of the conversation. He anxiously glanced at the office door. He’d never been much for talking things to death—one of his best qualities.
We were the last ones in the clubhouse because Dallas had insisted we shouldn’t roll out without a single fucking clue as to what we were doing.
The silence was eerie, especially at night.
The club should be packed. Our boots on the black floor tiles echoed as we crossed the empty barroom to the hallway that led to the front door.
King was the leader of the parade outside into the pelting rain, and we hustled over to my truck. We were all soaked by the time me, Will, and Dallas were inside the warm cab. King closed the door behind Dallas, but his boyfriend was speedy at putting down the window.
“What are you doing?” The rain was barreling down so hard Dallas had to raise his voice. “If you catch wet gravel or too much road grit, you’ll be dead! We’ll never find you in the dark!”
Will scowled over his shoulder at Dallas in the back seat but didn’t say anything.
“I’ll be fine. No one will talk to us if at least one of us doesn’t show up on a bike.” King slapped the side of my truck. “And I don’t want you on one in the rain, Sweetness.”
“Then let’s wait for better weather,” Dallas called, but he was already talking to King’s back.
Will stared after our president as the storm swallowed him up. “Leave him alone. It’s his life,” he said gruffly.
If looks could kill, Dallas would’ve murdered him dead, but I’d learned enough in the last few weeks to understand Will’s point, so I kept my mouth shut. No one could get King to change his mind once he had it set on something anyway.
“So, where is this place? Bullet?” Will asked.
“I’m not sure. I guess we’ll follow—”
King roared off on his black Harley Heritage Softail, the headlight cutting a bright swath in the night, and I groaned because I hadn’t even started the truck yet.
Dallas leaned forward and a frown snuck across his lips. “Does he think you know where this bar is?”
“Maybe.” I was tired, beat up, and ready to help Dallas murder the prez. “What the fuck?” I slapped the steering wheel.
“I’ll Google,” Dallas said with a sigh as I started the truck. The trip took forty-five minutes, and we were well out in the countryside away from the city by the time I pulled into a packed gravel parking lot. I spotted King’s bike, but not the man himself, so he must already be inside.
We all hopped out and walked across the gravel as fast as we could.
Bullet was more a large shack than a bar.
The vertical wooden siding could’ve been nice, but it was old as dirt and weathering gray.
Two spotlights lit the silver metal sign in the shape of a bullet, but there was no actual name written on it.
Lights on either side of the entrance did manage to seem friendly in the storm.
“At least he didn’t spill the damned bike.” Dallas ran his fingers along the wet seat of King’s Harley as we hustled past it. I didn’t see any bikes that stood out from the rest. Nothing tweaked my memory.
Will scowled, but I grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze. “King can do what he wants, but the man who loves him has the right to worry about his dumb shit.”
Will ran his hand over his face as we stepped inside, then rubbed the rain on his damp shirt. “The devil couldn’t kill King. What does Dallas have to worry about?” He grinned at me and relief settled in my chest.
I was so glad we were able to dance around this topic—concern about other people on their bike—without it boiling over into a fight.
“So, there I was on my Harley, trailing this piece of shit Demon.” King sat with his back to the bar, drink in hand.
He couldn’t have been there long, but he’d already been served.
His white T-shirt was translucent under his leather King’s cut, showing off his abs and solid chest and muscles in a way that had a few of the women sitting at a round wooden table near him salivating.
Dallas gasped loud enough that we could hear him over the hubbub of the bar. Everyone and God knew that King didn’t mind people drooling over him—he was an equal opportunity slut.
A keep five feet away from my man gleam entered Dallas’s eyes that would terrify anyone with an ounce of common sense. His hands balled into fists. He was a quiet one, but those were the ones you needed to watch. Too bad the women didn’t notice him.