Chapter 4 Vin #2
"Well, Vin Reed," he said, holstering his weapon. "Seems like you've got some useful skills.” He nodded to his other club members, and they walked away. They spoke in private for several minutes before returning. “Hell’s Justice,” he said.
“That’s right,” I said, holding my ground, the bikers surrounding me. A black van pulled into the rest area and two Prospects jumped out.
“You headed to Kentucky?” Jameson asked.
What the fuck? How did he know? “Yeah, I am.”
“Don’t look so fucking surprised,” he said. “It’s my job to know what goes on with other clubs, even if they’re no longer around.” He nodded at me. “You going after Stansfield?”
“How the fuck?” I said.
“I know what happened to Hell’s Justice.
I know what Stansfield did. He’s got the ear of a Louisiana senator looking to get rid of the Royal Bastards.
” He nodded at Sadie and she returned to her Lexus.
“Wait here,” he told me and walked away with his members again.
Two of the bikers followed Sadie when she pulled from the rest stop.
I walked over to a picnic table close by and sat on the table, waiting to see what my future held. Yeah, I could hop on my bike and ride away, but shit would follow me, and I didn’t need that. I needed Raven, knowing when I fell again, she would be the only one capable of catching me.
After nearly twenty minutes, Jameson came back, the other bikers remaining by the bikes. “You got skills,” he said. “How'd you like to put 'em to good use?"
I raised an eyebrow. "I'm listening."
Jameson stepped closer, his voice dropping.
"We've got a problem that needs solving in Lexington. I’m looking to set up a chapter of the Royal Bastards there, so we can control the shit moving up and down Interstate 75. Some local bigshot with ties to Stansfield is running roughshod over our territory. Stansfield’s horse farm—a fucking fortified stronghold—sits just off the Interstate. "
My blood ran cold, but I kept my face neutral. "Might've heard something about his shitty connections to some unsavory opportunities."
"How'd you like to head up there, whip those boys into shape?" Jameson's eyes glittered with something dangerous. "Show 'em what a real outlaw can do?"
I felt my jaw tighten, memories flooding back like a damn tidal wave. The roar of engines, the clash of fists, the burn of whiskey. Brotherhood and blood. Betrayal that cut deeper than any knife.
"Been a while since I ran with a club," I muttered, running a hand through my sweat-slicked hair. My chest ached where the bullet had struck, a phantom pain that went deeper than flesh.
Jameson watched me, his eyes sharp as a hawk's. "Having second thoughts, Reed?"
I barked out a harsh laugh. "Always got second thoughts. It's the third and fourth ones that'll kill ya."
My mind wandered, weighing the offer against the shit storm it could stir up. The life I'd left behind versus the chance to set things right. To face down the bastard who'd torn my world apart.
"Look," I said, meeting Jameson's gaze. "Before we go any further, there's something you should know. Hell's Justice was my life. Raven, Stansfield’s daughter, was my life."
Jameson's eyebrows shot up, a flicker of recognition crossing his face. "No shit? Zane's old crew was very loyal." He nodded. “Zane and I knew each other from way back. Good man. Good club.”
I nodded a bitter taste in my mouth. "Yeah, until it all went to hell. Literally."
"Heard about that clusterfuck," Jameson said, his voice low. "Nasty business. You were there when it went down?"
"Front row fucking seats," I growled. The memories threatened to overwhelm me, but I pushed them back. "Let's just say I've got my reasons for wanting to get back in the game. And for wanting a piece of Stansfield."
Jameson studied me for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Alright, Reed. I think we might just have an understanding here. Cross me, and you’re fucked. I have chapters everywhere. There’d be no hiding."
“I don’t hide.” I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the decision settling on my shoulders. But with it came a surge of purpose, a fire rekindling in my gut that I thought had long since been snuffed out. "Fuck it," I said, meeting Jameson's eyes. "I'm in."
A slow grin spread across Jameson's weathered face. "That's what I like to hear. Welcome to the Royal Bastards, brother. I’ll get you a kutte. I’ll let Kentucky know you’re on your way.
" He extended his hand, and I clasped it firmly.
The handshake was more than just a gesture; it was a pact, sealed in the blood and grit of the outlaw life we knew all too well.
"Stansfield won't know what hit him," I said, already feeling the adrenaline coursing through my veins.
Jameson's grip tightened. "We'll make that son of a bitch pay, Reed. For everything he's done to our kind."
As we broke the handshake, I couldn't help but think of the road ahead. It'd be paved with danger, blood, and probably a fuckton of bullets. "So," I said, cracking my knuckles. "When do I ride?"
Jameson's eyes glinted with a mix of anticipation and something darker. "Soon as you're ready to raise some hell in Lexington."
I grinned, feeling the familiar rush of the outlaw life calling to me. "Brother, I was born ready."
“President,” Jameson said. “You’re president of the new Royal Bastards Lexington, Kentucky Chapter.
I’ll make sure you have everything you need.
I’ll let you put the club together but I and the National Chapter vet every potential member.
We got assholes trying to get in to cause a shitstorm.
” He paused for a moment. “I appreciate what you did for my old lady, Vin. This is my way of repaying you. Plus, we have a mutual enemy. Several, really.”
“I’m honored,” I said.
“But?” Jameson seemed to have a second sense about shitstorms, even mine.
“Stansfield’s daughter,” I said.
Jameson crossed his arms and studied me. “She died, and you’re trying to find her; bring her ass back.”
“How the fuck do you know so much?” I asked and stood.
“I knew the minute you rolled into Louisiana.” He chuckled. “I knew the minute you appeared in Paradise, Arizona. You scared the fuck out of the cemetery worker.”
I shook my head. “He knows the Royal Bastards.”
Jameson nodded. “I don’t know how the fuck you were raised from the dead, but I know I can use you and whatever the fuck superpower you got going on.” He walked away and then turned. “I’m not afraid of any man or ghost, Vin. You do right by me, and I’ll do right by you.”
“About Raven,” I said.
“Mama Celeste,” Jameson smirked. “Voodoo priestess lives in the bayou north of here. Tell her I sent you. And, Vin, I knew everything about you when you hit our state line. I make it my business to know things.” He gave me the address and then climbed on his bike.
He then gave me an address and the name of a man in Lexington I should contact upon arrival and then rode away.
As I turned to head back to my bike, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a nearby window. The man staring back at me wasn't the same one who'd ridden into this rest stop. He had a purpose now, a mission, and God help anyone who got in his way.