Chapter Six
Gy
“Are you sticking around for the party?” Grim, our Road Captain, tosses a wrench into my toolbox with a clang.
“Hell no. Fuck that. Drunken parties are a young man’s game.
At my age, I am not interested in the headaches and hangovers.
Plus, I still can’t believe that Fen talked Cerberus into this bullshit.
” I shake my head, allowing myself to glide out from underneath my motorcycle, where I’ve been tightening some parts.
Grim and I are in the club’s mechanics’ bay.
Loads of us work here, either fixing our own bikes or working on clients’ bikes.
It’s one of the many ways the club brings in legitimate money.
Hellbent Bikes sells to customers worldwide.
We are good, but Cerberus is the real talent behind the shop.
We help, we tinker, we certainly get paid, but most of the real know-how and vision comes from our President.
“Please. You know him. Fen doesn’t like to lose.
When he’s got his mind set on a pretty brunette beta, he’ll make anything he wants happen.
” I know what he’s saying is true, but Mama C is usually amazing at quashing his stupid ideas.
Somehow, he talked her into it, so she’s been running around in a fluster all morning, shouting orders at everyone.
Thus, Grim and I are hiding out in the shop.
“It’ll be worth hanging around to watch him get shot down by that beta he’s obsessing over.
” Our ragers usually command a decent crowd, and Fen has been on the horn about this one for the past two days, going nuts.
While I do my best to ignore my baser needs, it’s been way too long since I got my dick wet.
“I’m more intrigued about the woman Cujo nearly chased down the street.” Grim chuckles, wiping his hands on a dirty rag.
“Heard that. Fen said he was practically foaming at the mouth. Might hit on her just to see how crazy that psycho will go.” Truth be told, Cujo isn’t one of my favorite brothers.
He’s got more edge to him than the rest of us.
Crazy motherfucker is just as likely to stab you for looking at him wrong.
He’s the best person to watch your six in a fight, but there’s always a chance you’ll find yourself bleeding out if you piss him off.
Grim grabs fresh rags and brings one back to me. “Nope. No fucking way. I ain’t going near that chick if she shows up. But I doubt she will. Cujo has probably scared her off already.”
I’ll bet he did. Cuts, leather, and chrome freak most people out. And that’s not always a bad thing. Means most folk don’t bother us. But there’s not a single man here who would stand back and watch any woman come to harm.
“Fine. I guess I’ll make an appearance just to see what happens, but I ain’t staying long.” I use the rag to get oil off my fingers. “Wonder if she really is an omega.”
“Everyone there seemed to agree. Haven’t seen one of them in the wild for a bit.
I’m betting on there being fireworks tonight if she shows.
” Grim shakes his head and starts wiping down his bike, because neither one of us wants to go back into the clubhouse and risk getting caught up in Mama C’s whirlwind.
Better the prospects than us.
“I’m about done here. It’s a nice day. Wanna go for a ride?” That’s why I love Grim. He’s always got good ideas.
“And let the rest of those idiots prepare for the party? Abso-fucking-lutely.” We walk our bikes out of the open garage door and into the sunlight. The chrome gleams, and I’m struck by an eagerness to feel the wind in my face. “Let’s do the ridgeline loop.”
It’s one of my favorite places to ride, taking us through the scenic terrain and even heading around the river.
The route skirts most of the area under our protection, so there shouldn’t be anything to worry about, but considering the recent trouble, I double-check my holster and the extra weapon strapped to my ankle.
Plus, my bike has a small armory under the seat—all legal and licensed, of course.
“I’m up for that.” Grim drops a helmet over his head and swings his leg over his motorcycle, revving the engine to life.
Ain’t nothing better than that sound.
When I do the same, I relax. The engine thunders beneath me, and I enjoy the steel in my hands as I follow him through the gate at the front, waving to Pup as we fly out onto the open road.
As always, a sense of peace washes over me as the ground disappears under the wheels of my rumbling motorcycle. Taking a deep breath, I enjoy the fresh scent of the cool, crisp air and push my demons away.
The scenery blends as our speed increases—just Grim and I enjoying the open road.
He glances over at me, and I can’t help but give him a whoop.
My brother echoes the call, speeding up, pushing it like the daredevil he is.
I may be an old man now, just turned forty, but there’s no way I’m going to let him beat me.
After releasing my throttle, I shoot up behind him as we charge down the empty street.
One of the best parts about Broken Ridge, Texas is how quiet it is on the outskirts. No cops, no people, just us.
Freedom.
The world seems endless. Ours for the taking, but then the hum of other bikes reaches my ear. Grim hears it too and signals for us to slow down.
“Should we find cover?” I shout, letting the wind catch my words. “Sounds like they are heading our way”
It could be something as simple as a group of riders enjoying the nice weather, but with all the trouble in our neck of the woods, I won’t bet my life on it.
Although it pisses me off, hiding is the smartest option.
It’s better to stay alive than be dead. Grim nods in agreement, his gaze scanning our surroundings.
There’s a large cluster of boulders and brambles up ahead, and I point to it as we pull off and slide our bikes behind them. There’s still a chance they could see us, but if they do, I’ll be ready.
Pulling my Glock from its holster, I crouch behind the boulder and keep my eyes on the horizon. If there’s anything I learned from my time in the military, it’s being patient. Safety first—no rushing into things like a headstrong teenager.
Grim pulls out his own pistol and settles in beside me, muttering, “Probably just a few weekend riders heading for the lake.”
As soon as he says it, they appear. Five men on Harleys, wearing cuts full of patches, but from my vantage point, I can’t make out the insignia. Friend or foe?
There are a few MCs we’re allied with who are welcome on our turf, but Cerberus tells us when they’re headed our way. Though we are formidable and well-trained, we’re not one percenters. More capable and lethal, we do our best to remain separate from their lawless lifestyle.
Adrenaline pumps through my veins as I clutch my weapon, keeping my eye trained on the potential threat. Pivoting silently as the first one passes, I search for their club affiliation. It’s a devil piloting a jet. Friend.
“Thank fuck. Air Devils.” Grim gusts out a huge breath.
Knowing it’s safe, we pocket our weapons and climb back onto our bikes, setting off in the same direction we were headed.
The Air Devils, one of our allies, look like they’re headed toward the clubhouse.
I wonder whether they’re on their way to the party.
Either way, we’ll find out once we’re back since they pose no threat to the Hellbent Hounds.
All former Air Force, they’re a bunch of decent dudes, if a bit rowdy.
Still, we’re no closer to knowing who the fuck came into our town and thought they could get away with raiding stores under our protection. I’ve already pulled and reviewed the footage, but it shows four medium-sized assholes wearing black from head to toe.
If they’re sticking around, I’ll find them.
And release the Hounds.