Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Engines growled like thunder crashing against asphalt as the chapter rolled down the street, a storm of chrome, denim, and black leather, slicing through the stillness of the late afternoon.
The line of bikes stretched down the road, each one glinting beneath the sun, custom paint catching the light like fire. The deep rumble echoed off nearby buildings, a sound that turned heads and sent a pulse through the ground.
Teller signaled for the turn and one by one the Bastards entered the parking lot.
It was full when they rolled in. After getting his patch, they’d made sure Tank rode directly behind Teller and Vicious. A chapter tradition to show
the newest member respect and recognized he’d earned his place among them.
Tomorrow, Tank would be in formation, right in front of the two remaining prospects. Aires and Stretch would have their turn in the sun when the time came.
As they backed into the front row spots, kickstands dropped and engines cut out one by one. The moment helmets came off, it became painfully clear a party was about to kick off.
The silence only lasted a second before cheers and congratulations were thrown Tank’s way.
A few sweeties made a beeline for the new patched brother, butTank sidestepped with little more than a half hug as he plowed through the crowd with one destination in mind— his ol’ lady, waiting near the edge of the chaos for her man.
Razor stepped into the man’s path. “Not yet, son.”
Tank frowned. “What?”
Razor handed him a shot with a beer chaser, tapping his bottle against Tank’s. “Wanted to personally congratulate you. It’s an honor to call you brother.”
Tank slammed the shot back before Razor’s words choked him up.
“Don’t make me look like a bitch today, Razor.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, brother.” Razor leaned in close enough for only Tank to hear him.
“My room’s available. Grab your woman and go celebrate with her for a little while.
” Leaning back, he glanced toward Pepper.
She stood off to the side, patiently waiting on her man while the celebration swirled around her.
Razor gave a nod and stepped aside, hoping the couple managed to make it through the crowd before the brothers got ahold of Tank.
Draping an arm over one of the sweeties, Razor let the girl lead him inside. He didn’t miss the half-cocked look Vicious gave him. He wasn’t taking the girl to bed, just to the bar where he intended to throw back a few more shots.
They didn’t get far when Kiki peeled away from his side, heading straight for Player and Joker. She liked being around the pair, and they seemed to prefer her company just as much.
Who was he to care? It wasn’t like he was sleeping with any of the club girls. That was an entanglement he’d learned a long damn time ago he wanted no part of. One crazy pregnancy scare at seventeen had been enough to put club girls permanently on Razor’s no-fly list.
His old man had called it years earlier, warning a sixteen-year-old Razor that the girls hanging around the clubhouse weren’t after him, they wanted the patch on his back.
He’d heeded that warning ever since, and even passed it along to some of the younger brothers as they patched in.
Tank, though, had come with an ol’ lady and a kid.
And to Razor’s surprise, the man never so much as glanced at another woman during parties, rides, or gatherings.
Loyal to his woman. That’s what he was. And one of the reasons Razor respected him.
“You’re looking somber over here all alone.”
Razor glanced over at one of the brothers he hadn’t yet had a chance to reconnect with.
The brother had only been out of prison for a six months. He’d been with the club since he was sixteen, patched in at eighteen, and went down to at nineteen for murder.
“Deep in thought, Preacher.”
Book laughed. He was the chapter’s chaplin, and no one let him forget it. “Well, I’m buyin’ if your drinkin’.”
“Lead the way.”
The two men managed to get inside where the party was in full swing. The music slammed into them, loud and unapologetic. Bodies pressed together as people moved through the room in a steady, chaotic flow.
Every corner pulsed with motion: bikers shoulder to shoulder at the bar, fighting for drinks while the makeshift dance floor was already packed with couples tangled together.
The music was so loud it vibrated through the floor, and the air was already thick with smoke that curled lazily toward the rafters.
Laughter erupted from on of the pool tables, sharp and rowdy, cutting through the noise. It was chaos—all of it wrapped in one relentless celebration.
Half of the attendees probably had no idea why they were celebrating, and didn’t care. They were there for the three B’s: bikes, broads, and beer. And there was plenty of all three to go around.
“Hey, Book. Razor.”
“Wynn.”
“Wynn.”
They both greeted the girl in unison.
“You do that to one another or did Tank fight that hard for his patch?” she asked taking in Razor’s bruised jaw and Book’s black eye.
“Tank,” they both said each chuckling.
“But…” Book said, then glanced over his shoulder to see who was in ear shot. “Teller bit Tank and pulled his hair.”
Razor spit his beer out as a roar of laughter ripped from his throat. “Damn it, warn a brother next time, Book,” he said, wiping his chin with the back of his hand.
“I remember you biting the shit out of one of the brothers when you fought for your full patch, Book,” Vicious said as he moved up next to Razor.
He waved over Wynn and ordered a couple of beers before turning his attention back to them. “You two took some good hits.”
Razor chuckled. “I think you cold-cocked me, asshole.”
“The hell I did, fucker,” Vicious snapped.
And just like that, they weren’t on the same merry-go-round anymore.
Razor pushed away from the bar, his shoulder clipping Vicious on the way past. The shove sent Vicious straight back into the bar.
It happened fast—to fast. Razor threw a punch, Vicious countered and Book stepped in to break it up and somehow ended up the one on the floor bleeding.
Bodies scattered, people stumbling back as they tried to get out of the way.
Book pushed himself up, only to drop back down as his head spun. Razor and Vicious both reached down to haul him up—only for Book to shove them off.
“I think I can manage by myself.”
When he finally stood, Book glared at both of them. “You two need to deal with your shit—away from other people. And you both need therapy,” he spat the words at them before pushing through the crowd.
Already, bruising was starting to bloom across his face.
Vicious and Razor watched him go, then almost turned to leave themselves—only to find Teller stepping into their line of sight.
He lifted his hand and rubbed his fingers together. Yep, they were being fined. Again.
The two of them split in opposite directions, equally aggravated, and equally aware they’d just put their hands on a brother over nothing by pride and bad timing.