Chapter Eight
Spike
Riley and Asher have been here for three days now, but I’ve only stopped by to see her once. Call me a coward, but she makes my head fuzzy, and I can’t afford that.
Especially not today.
“Who’s running today?” Tank asks, his arms crossed, his expression sharp.
“Knuckles is leading the East Chapter,” I reply, scanning the room. The men gathered around the table look calm, focused, but I know better. Tensions are always high on transfer days, and for good reason. We’re transporting over one million dollars worth of rock candy. While we don’t sell the shit, this transfer alone is making us twenty-five hundred grand.
“They’ll carry the majority of the goods. I want all thirty of them on two wheels for this. No exceptions. I also want four more men in vehicles, flanking the front and back. I’ll take the rest with ten men from here. Tank, you’ll drive the car. We’ll follow five minutes behind. The buyer will meet us at location five, at the edge of Palm Springs.”
The bikes are for show. A distraction. The vehicles will be the ones transporting the goods. They have hidden compartments designed to keep even the damn drug dogs from finding them.
Tank nods, but his brows pull together. “That’s a lot of heat, Prez. You expecting trouble?”
“Always,” I say. “But this isn’t just about moving product. It’s about making a statement.”
“Got it,” Tank says, but there’s a flicker of concern in his eyes. “And if Chuck catches wind? He always has his goons watching us like a hawk. They might get curious as to why there are so many bikers together.”
“If Chuck wants to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong, he’ll regret it,” I say, leaning forward. My voice drops low, carrying a weight that silences the room. “This is our territory. Our rules. And we’re not about to roll over for anyone. Not even the fucking police commissioner.”
There’s a murmur of agreement around the table, and I nod, satisfied.
“Knuckles, you and Tank will make the handoff and stay until the buyer’s out of our territory. No one leaves their posts until I get the all-clear.”
“Got it, Prez,” Knuckles says, his voice steady.
I glance around the room, meeting each set of eyes. “And remember, no mistakes. Not one. We’ve got a lot riding on this run, and I don’t need to tell you what happens if we screw it up.”
They all nod, the air thick with tension.
As the men disperse to prep for the run, I catch Tank’s eye. He hesitates for a moment, then says, “You sure you don’t want to sit this one out, Spike? Let someone else take the reins?”
I let out a humorless laugh. “You know better than that, Tank. I don’t sit out.”
But even as the words leave my mouth, my mind drifts back to Riley. To the way she looks at me as if she’s trying to figure me out. Like she sees something I’m not ready for her to see.
I shake my head, forcing myself to focus. There’s no room for distractions today. Not when the stakes are this high.
***
The roar of forty bikes pierces the stillness, shaking the building as engines ignite in unison. The men fall into formation, the rumble of their machines a warning to anyone foolish enough to cross us. I sit at the front, my fingers gripping the handlebars tightly. The weight of this run presses heavy on my shoulders. It’s not just about the money or the product. Each run, no matter the reason, is a statement. A reminder. This is our territory.
Knuckles and the East Chapter take point, rolling out first. I wait five minutes before signaling my team to follow. The bikes surge forward, engines snarling like a pack of lions on the hunt. Between us, the vehicles trail in formation, their cargo secured in hidden compartments only a select few know about.
The first stretch is uneventful. Too uneventful. The eerie quiet prickles at the edge of my nerves. Deep in our turf, things should be smooth, but silence like this is rarely a good omen.
Tank’s voice cuts through the comms. “Eyes on us, Prez. Couple of cars keeping pace.”
He doesn’t need instructions. Tank’s a pro. He knows the drill: make the delivery, get paid, and clear out. But nothing’s ever as simple as it should be.
I glance back. The bikes fan out, shielding the vehicles from view. It’s a tight formation, a perfect cover. The only variable now is whether someone’s bold or stupid enough to make a move.
“We’re at location five,” Knuckles reports, his voice clipped. “Buyer’s here. No signs of trouble.”
I nod, though unease gnaws at me. Everything’s lined up, but there’s always that damn gut feeling, like a storm on the horizon.
Bones comes on the line. “We’ve got company, Prez. Bikes slipping in at the rear. Not ours.”
Grinding my teeth, I give the signal for everyone to tighten up. No way we’re letting anyone break formation.
“Knuckles, take lead. You and Tank handle the handoff. Don’t stick around. I’ll deal with this.”
Knuckles doesn’t argue. He knows what he’s doing.
As we approach the meeting spot, my eyes scan the area. The buyer stands next to a black SUV, far too polished for this dust bowl. A suit like his screams, ‘ Look at me’ . Attention is not something we want right now. I’ll need to make it clear at our next handout that proper attire is expected. Idiots.
My men have the SUV surrounded when we arrive, just as Tank slows, pulling the lead car to a stop beside the SUV. Knuckles dismounts and approaches, staying sharp.
Then I see it.
A blacked-out truck lurks at the edge of the lot. Far enough to avoid immediate attention but close enough to set alarms blaring in my head.
“Something’s off,” I growl into the comm. “Be ready.”
The truck’s doors fly open. Two men step out, armed, and start closing the distance.
“Shit,” Bones mutters. “We’re blown.”
My engine roars to life as I swerve sharply, skidding to a stop between my men and the advancing gunmen. Drawing my pistol, I bark into the comms, “Move! Finish the transfer and get out!”
Instead of shooting, the men exchange glances, smirking before retreating back to their truck. Moments later, two bikes pull up behind them. Likely the same assholes who tailed us earlier.
Chaos ignites. The men scramble as Knuckles and Tank toss the goods into the SUV. The buyer, pale but resolute, climbs in and floors it, kicking up a storm of dust.
“Go, Spike!” Knuckles shouts. “I’ll cover the buyer.”
“You know what to do, brothers,” I say over the comms. “Break formation and take your detours back. Meet back at the compound.”
My club is well-trained for any situation that may happen during a run. Tonight, they know to separate into small groups and take random routes back to their sectors. However, today, I want them all to return to the main clubhouse. This hour-long trip will take two to three to get back home. But the safety of our family comes first. Some of the brothers have wives and kids that live on or near their clubhouses.
Holstering my gun, I take the lead of my small group as the truck trails us, headlights glinting in my mirrors. My hand brushes the grip of my weapon. If this turns into a chase, things are gonna get ugly fast.
“Tank, hard right!” I order.
Tank veers off-road, his vehicle bouncing across the uneven terrain. We follow suit, bikes tearing through the desert as the truck struggles to keep pace. A series of sharp turns finally leaves them in the dust. By the time we reach the compound two hours later, they’re long gone.
The men regroup, pulling into the lot. I dismount, my jaw tight as Knuckles pulls in behind me.
“Buyer’s safe,” he says, shutting off his engine.
Nodding, I survey the group. They’re waiting. Tense.
“We have a fucking traitor,” I yell. “Go to the basement and choose a fucking cot to sleep on. No one leaves until I find out who the fuck to kill.”
Skip falls in beside me as we head inside. “Could’ve been on the buyer’s side.”
“Thought of that,” I admit. “But it doesn’t add up. Why ambush us during the transfer instead of waiting for the buyer to be alone?”
Knuckles grunts. “And why follow us back? It’s likely they already know where to find us. The compound isn’t exactly inconspicuous.”
I turn to Tank. “Get me a list of everyone who ran today. Apart from the East Chapter, us, and the ten men I handpicked, who else knew about the drop?”
“Just the buyer and seller,” Tank replies. “We’ve dealt with both for years. We’ve never had an issue. It doesn’t make sense.”
“None of this does,” I mutter. “Tell Mike to lock the gate. No one in or out until I give the all clear. And order food. We’re not starving just because I’m pissed.”
Tank nods. “Got it, Prez. What’s next?”
“Right now, I’m gonna grab a beer and go check on our guest.”
Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Doing just that, I grab my beer and race up the stairs. I’m not any less pissed off by the time I reach her door, but I refrain from banging harshly, knowing that Asher is probably asleep. No answer.
“Riley,” I say. “It’s Spike. You awake?”
Again, no answer.
Probably sleeping. I just need to peek in and make sure she’s alright, for sanity’s sake.
However, when I open the door, she’s not there. I know she didn’t leave. Mike would have texted me. Pulling out my phone, I double check and don’t see any missed messages.
Rushing to the kitchen, I only find Skip eating.
Bathroom. Maybe she’s showering. Not caring one bit for her modesty, I stride right in but find it empty.
“What’s up, Spike?” Maverick asks.
“Riley’s gone,” I say. “Where the fuck is she?”
“Check the cameras,” he says. “You know Mike didn’t let her through the gate. That means she’s still here somewhere. Probably just wandering.”
Heading toward my office, I open the door and freeze. Riley is fast asleep on my couch, and Asher’s asleep on the floor cushioned by a blanket. Riley’s hand is resting near his head almost as if she was reaching for him in her sleep.
“I’ll keep everyone out,” Maverick whispers. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Nodding, I walk in and shut the door. As I stand here taking in my two newest burdens, my pulse settles for the first time this evening.
Removing my cut, I hang it up and grab the extra pillow. I settle my body on the floor next to Asher. It may not be the most comfortable place I’ve ever slept, but it’ll do just fine. Reaching out, I place my hand next to Riley’s and can’t help but wonder what the fuck is going on with me.
The next time I open my eyes, Riley’s gone. But Asher is wide awake and looking right at me.
“Good morning, bud,” I smile. “Does your back hurt, too?”
Standing, I crack a few things before bending over and picking up Asher.
“Let’s try this changing shit again, but I’m warning you, no pissing on me this time.”
He doesn’t respond, but his eyes say it all. Try and stop me.
Luckily, I get him changed with no issues.
I make a note to buy some more diapers because it looks like there aren’t many left in his diaper bag.
“Let’s go search for your mom,” I say. “I need your help in talking some sense into her. Every time I turn around, she’s gone.”
Asher shoves his fist in his mouth in agreement.
“If I had known that the Prez was allowing club whores into the main clubhouse, I’d have asked for a transfer.”
Surely, I didn’t hear what I think I did. And surely, it’s not directed to the woman under my protection.
“I’m not a whore. And if you don’t remove your hand, I will stab it.”
“Damn, you need to be shown your place.”
Turning the corner, I see Riley cornered by Seth. Some fucker from the East Chapter. She’s facing toward me, and he’s plastered against her back. His hand was on her shoulder, but he reaches around and grabs her tit.
I. See. Fucking. Red.
Before I can react, Riley takes the fork she’s holding and jams it into Seth’s hand. He screams and tumbles backward.
“What the fuck is going on?” Tank asks as he rounds the corner to the kitchen.
“Hold Asher,” I growl with barely restrained anger.
“No way, Prez. He’s too small,” Tank says, taking a step back. “I’ll accidentally break him.”
“Tank, take him. Now.”
Sighing, he nods as I place the baby against his chest and move Tank’s large hand to hold him in place.
As soon as the baby is safely out of my arms, I fucking attack.
Seth doesn’t have time to react. My fist connects with his jaw, sending him sprawling across the floor. He scrambles to get up, but I’m already on him, pinning him down with one knee as I grab the front of his cut.
“You’ve got a death wish, asshole,” I snarl, pulling him closer until our faces are inches apart. “Touch her again, and I’ll fucking burn you alive.”
He spits blood, glaring up at me with defiance. “She just stabbed…”
I don’t let him finish. My knuckles crash into his face again, silencing him. The satisfying crunch of his nose breaking echoes in the room.
“Enough, Spike!” Tank’s bored voice cuts through the haze of my rage. “You’ll kill him.”
I glance back at Tank, then to Asher, who’s watching from his arms. The baby doesn’t cry, but his little fist is shoved into his mouth, and drool runs down his arm. I’m taking that as approval.
Reluctantly, I release Seth, letting him fall to the floor in a groaning, bloody heap. My chest heaves as I try to rein in the storm raging inside me.
Riley’s voice brings me back. “You didn’t need to do that,” she says, her tone even but firm. “I had it handled.”
“He grabbed you, Riley. That’s not something I’m just gonna let slide.”
She doesn’t flinch, meeting my glare with the same fiery resolve she had when she stabbed him. “And I handled it. You didn’t need to go full berserker.”
Tank chuckles under his breath. “She’s got a point.”
I ignore him, stepping closer to Riley. “You’re under my protection. No one puts their hands on you. Got it?”
After a few seconds, she smiles softly. “Got it,” she says.
“Get this piece of shit back down to the basement,” I bark.
Handing the baby to Riley, Tank nods, motioning for two nearby prospects to drag Seth out. Once the room clears, it’s just me, Riley, and Asher.
I look back at her, trying to calm the fire still burning in my chest. “You okay?”
She sighs, setting the bloody fork on the counter. “I’m fine, Spike. But, just because he’s a creep didn’t mean you had to hurt him.”
I smirk, unable to help myself. “He deserved worse. And for the record, you stabbed him first.”
Her lips twitch like she’s fighting a smile. “Fair point.”
Asher lets out a squeal, breaking the tension.
“Come on, little man,” she murmurs, her voice softening as she cradles him. “Let’s get you fed.”
I watch her walk away, the heat of the moment finally giving way to something else. Something I can’t quite name but feels just as dangerous.
I’m in deep and I don’t even know anything about her apart from her first name.
And the fact that she’s beautiful.
And makes my head spin.
I need coffee.
“Hey, Prez,” Skip says. “Just got a call from Runner. He found something online about your girl. Said he sent it to your email.”
Pouring myself a cup of coffee, I head back to my office.
I haven’t even begun to sort out the Riley situation. That’s next on my agenda once I figure out who the traitor is.
My mind is a million miles away as I open the office door and head inside. Three steps in, I notice Riley sitting on the couch nursing Asher.
“I’m so sorry,” I mumble. “I’ll come back when you’re finished.”
“It’s alright,” she smiles. “I’m completely covered.”
“Not to sound rude,” I say, rubbing my neck. “Why are you in here and not in your room?”
“Oh,” she whispers, a blush rushing across her face. “I can’t seem to relax in there. I feel like I’m being watched. But when I’m in this room, I feel safe. I know it’s weird. I’ll go to my room.”
She goes to stand, and the blanket that was covering her falls away.
“No.” My voice is rougher than I mean it to be, and I force myself to soften. “Don’t. You’re fine.”
She hesitates but nods, her gaze dropping back to Asher. Her fingers move gently over his tiny head, soothing him as he nurses.
I should turn around. I should leave. But my feet don’t move.
Instead, I step inside, shutting the door behind me.
Moving to my desk, I sit, though I barely notice doing it. My eyes stay on her. On them.
The outside light catches the gold in her hair and the soft curve of her cheek. Her focus is completely on Asher, her expression calm and... serene.
It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
And the most unsettling.
Something stirs in me. Something I don’t understand. I’ve seen women nursing before. Hell, half the guys in the club have kids, and no one blinks an eye at the old ladies who breastfeed out in the open.
But this is different.
She’s different.