Chapter Four
Ryatt
Friday nights were good money. But I wouldn’t be working tonight.
I had to admit, my stomach was in my throat.
The halfway house had a ten o’clock curfew.
Because I’d never given Treena any trouble, she’d given me an exception for tonight.
Of course, I’d lied and said I needed money and planned on making deliveries.
Hanging around an MC would be crossing into the gray area of avoiding environments that would undermine my sobriety.
I’d given up on convincing anyone I didn’t have a problem. I’d just do quiet time, keep out of trouble, and wait it out.
As I approached the Heller Raiders MC compound, and rode through the gates, a shiver of adrenaline, feeling a lot like fear, slithered down my spine. I wasn’t on a Harley. I’d never been around a gang of bikers, and I had no misconceptions that I’d be violating the terms of my probation.
Bikers hung around an open fire in an old oil drum. A couple of other guys revved the engines of their bikes. They all tracked my progress through their compound. My blue R1 stood out as the oddity in a sea of Harleys and Indians.
An older man, one I’d seen with Kiss, waved as I rode between the rows of bikes looking for an empty spot. Remembering what McKelle had said last Sunday, I circled the building, following the worn asphalt trail and parked next to her BMW, a flatbed truck, and a couple of cars.
One of the guys waved me over as I rounded the corner of the building and followed the walkway. The main doors were propped open. People lingered in the opening. Music drifted on the air along with the mouthwatering aroma of barbecue.
“This is Kiss’s friend.” The name on his vest said Sully. He slapped a hand to my shoulder.
“You lookin’ to hang around?” an older man asked. The patch on his vest called him Butch. At least, I wouldn’t have to remember anyone’s name.
Three guys revved their engines, laughing, and drinking from longneck bottles. That aroma of seasoned meat came from smokers a few feet from the oil drum. Another couple of bikers flipped chicken and burgers.
A blonde walked out of the building. A black bandana tied up her hair.
Black eyeliner rimmed her eyes, and she was covered in tatts.
She wore the same leather vest as the guys, only hers declared her Sergeant at Arms. “I don’t need Rogue to bust your balls,” she said to the guy coming outside with her.
“Nah, because you have his in your pocket. Rogue’s a pussy-whipped motherfucker now. You domesticated him.”
All at once, everyone around the oil drum hollered, “Tank.”
“You’ll hand your balls over to my princess, too, just like the rest of us,” Sully said.
“Nah,” the man said. “Bristol is the only one handling my balls.”
Another round of laughs followed.
“Your old lady must be out of town,” Butch joked with Tank.
He sighed. “She lives in Vegas now. I came home and found out the house is in foreclosure. My shit’s gone including my wife.”
Butch wiped his hand across his mouth. “Dozer didn’t say anything. We could’ve kept up the mortgage while you was locked up. Club owed you that.”
“My kid didn’t know. He doesn’t talk to his mother. I can’t blame him. This is on me. And nothing I’m worried about tonight. I’m going to get high, get laid, and get into some trouble.”
“You are trouble,” Jazzy said. “No weed for you. I’m not getting between you and pussy. I wouldn’t do that to you.” Jazzy snatched the joint from his fingers and took a hit. “And keep all your heathen behaviors out of the chapel. Rosie’s here.”
“Who’s the kid?” the biker they called Tank asked.
Jazzy slugged his arm. “Don’t fuck with me. Romeo’s club princess, and you’re not going to corrupt her so, clean it up.”
“Fuck, woman, you bust a man’s balls the first night he’s out. I’m not talking about the baby but the kid in front of me.”
What the fuck? He meant me. The man was huge. Weathered tattoos covered arms like pythons. The words death before dishonor weaved around a military saber carried in the claws of an American eagle inked his arm and shoulder.
I’d hate to meet this biker in a dark alley. He had a reddish-brown beard to his chest. Scars cut lines in his face, and his eyes crinkled as he smiled. He tried to take the joint from the blonde.
“You’re on parole,” she said.
Was she talking to me or the scary, badass convict?
“Willy said I got one night to celebrate. He’ll keep the PO off my back.” He took a long hit off the joint.
“If you piss dirty, Dozer’s going to kill both me and Romeo.” Jazzy smiled.
I was definitely breaking the terms of my probation by being here. I’d thought I was done looking for trouble. But fuck it. Trouble found me, and it felt good.
“A friend of Kiss,” Sully repeated my name, answering Tank’s question. And as if saying her name conjured the girl, Kiss bounced out of the MC.
“I know Kiss, Blue, and McKelle,” I said and gave Kiss a wave as she approached. “But don’t blame them for inviting me. That’s on Romeo.”
“Hi.” Kiss gave me a hug, then scooted over to Sully.
He wrapped his arm around her. “Hi, peanut. You doing okay?”
She nodded. “I didn’t know you were coming tonight,” she said to me. “I know Ryatt from my meetings,” she said to the others around the barrel.
Well, fuck. I guess if I wanted in their club, they’d have to know the details of my record. I’m sure it would look like kiddie crimes next to this guy’s rap sheet.
“You look good, peanut,” Tank said. “Gotta say, I did easy time when I see how good things are now. Makes it all worth it.” A soft smile found Tank’s lips. “Wish I could have spit on Razor’s grave, and I wish Texas could’ve been here to see it.”
“Razor’s burning in hell,” Jazzy said. “I wouldn’t spit to put out the fire.”
“You sure you don’t have balls and a big dick under your skirt?” Tank asked her.
She pursed her lips. “You should ask Rogue.”
“Ah, Tank, don’t get her going.” Sully’s face pinched. “I’m still pretending my sweet girl is somewhere under all that attitude.”
Tank leaned into her. “I’m sure Rogue digs deep to find it.”
“Every fucking day,” she whispered back.
“Okay, that’s enough,” Sully grumbled. “I don’t want to hear that shit.”
Tank laughed, stuck his hand out to me, and I shook it. “Are you looking to prospect?”
Romeo had explained the club, the process of going from hanging around the MC, to prospecting for the patch.
“Yeah, maybe. I thought I’d hang around for a while,” I said, feeling good saying the words. “Congratulations. I hear we’re celebrating your release.”
“It’s good to be home.” He kissed Jazzy’s temple. “Who needs a PO with this ballbuster wearing the SaA patch.”
“If you get Ted Vernal as your PO, ask for someone else. He’s got an obsession with giving UA’s.” Although Tank might get away with pissing dirty if his dick was built like the rest of him. Ted would want daily check-ins.
Tank cocked a brow. “Are you on parole?”
“Probation,” I clarified. “I got off lucky.”
“Sometimes, the universe conspires in your favor,” Jazzy said.
“You and your fortune cookie advice.” Tank wrapped an arm around her. “Come on. I need a drink, and I want a kitten on my lap.”
“It’s good to have you home,” she said.
Tank kept a brotherly arm around her shoulders and disappeared with her into the old church.
Maybe I’d finally have a run of good luck. If I hadn’t been popped for drugs, I wouldn’t have been at treatment, wouldn’t have met Kiss, and wouldn’t have Mike—Romeo—back in my life.
“Romeo’s inside,” Kiss said. “He’s usually at the president’s table with the rest of the board. But you can hang with me and Blue.”
I followed Kiss into the church. The chapel was packed and loud.
Music and chatter filled the room. There was a line at the bar, and a couple of guys double-fisted the taps, pouring drafts.
Another guy mixed drinks. Food filled tables along the wall, and the sound of billiards cracked from the platform to the left.
Luck was a bitch, too. A familiar ache burned in my chest. As Kiss pulled me along with her, my gaze was locked on the blonde bent over the pool table. A cropped T-shirt gave me a glimpse of smooth skin above low-riding tight jeans molded to her ass.
“Cruz is working the bar,” Kiss said. “He’ll get a break soon and eat with us.”
I recognized the guy she indicated. He had his hair pulled into a ponytail. Some of the strands had come loose, sticking to his face because of the heat in the room. His gaze shifted from the Heller in front of him to the object of my obsession. McKelle. Lucky bastard.
“I hope you’re hungry.”
I shifted my gaze to Kiss. “You know I am.”
I rested a hand on her arm. “I should say hi to Romeo first.”
“He’s in the corner.” She pointed to a table to the left of the bar.
Romeo was there with several other guys with patches on their cuts. “He looks busy. I just want to let him know I’m here.”
“He’ll be going to the boardroom soon. The board always meets on Friday nights for church.”
“Church?” I glanced around the chapel. Stained-glass stretched from midway up the wall to the rafters on one side. The altar had been converted to a bar, and there were girls with their tits popping out the neckline of their tight T-shirts serving drinks.
Apparently, when Tank said he wanted a kitten on his lap, he meant a blonde with big tits, stripper heels, and a short skirt. I’d guess there wasn’t a lot of soul searching and prayer going on, but I’d wager the last twenty bucks in my pocket, I could pay one of these girls to get on their knees.
By the time I stopped staring, Kiss had moved off, and I weaved between tables, heading toward Romeo. It still felt strange not to think of him as Mike, but he’d left that life behind. I didn’t blame him. This was where he belonged. Family, friends, bikes, and babes.
“Ryatt!” Romeo stood. As I approached, he grabbed a chair and positioned it next to him. “Let me introduce you to everyone.”
“I met PO outside.” Tank had his hands full of the girl on his lap.