Chapter 8
GRACE
Iblink in the midday sun as we emerge from the brewery a few hours later. Danni kitted me out in a Guns n Roses t-shirt and tight jean shorts, and I can’t help noticing the way Calvin keeps staring at my thighs. I’m beginning to wonder if Danni doesn’t have an ulterior motive in mind.
Barrels, the big hairy guy who runs the brewery, has just given us a tour and plenty of samples of the craft beer they brew on site.
This is not what I was expecting a motorcycle club HQ to be.
The men I’ve met are all hairy but lovely.
They’re ex-veterans, and they’ve done something good here.
There’s a brewery and a restaurant, a motorcycle repair shop and Danni’s studio.
There’s even a women’s refuge in the mountains that one of the wives set up.
The club helps with funding and provides security.
They might appear tough with their leather jackets and riding patches, but they’re a bunch of decent men underneath.
“How many samples did you have, Badge?” Barrels asks as we step into the sun.
“Not many,” Calvin growls.
Barrels slaps him on the back. “Just joking. Badge will take your keys if he thinks you’ve had too much to drink.”
“So I’ve heard.” It seems he’s known for his rules, but I can’t help wondering if there’s a deeper reason for his chosen profession.
“What you two up to this afternoon?” Barrels asks.
“Thought we might go to the lake or to Hope, have a stroll through the park.”
Barrels laughs. “A stroll. That sounds about your pace, old man.”
Badge shakes his head at the banter, but it’s given me an idea.
“I’ve got something better we can do.”
“Oh yeah?” Calvin squints at me suspiciously.
“It’s a surprise.” If I tell him what I’m thinking, he’ll never agree.
His frown deepens. “I hate surprises.”
“Why does that not surprise me.” I jab him playfully in the ribs. “Trust me, you’ll like this one.”
“I doubt that,” he mutters.
A bike roars into the parking lot, coming in too fast and sliding into a spot kicking up gravel dust.
Barrels stiffens as the rider takes off her helmet. She runs her hands through a shock of bright pink hair that frames her youthful face in a pixie cut. The woman swings her legs off the bike, exposing bare legs and a short leather skirt.
“Who’s that?” I whisper.
“That’s Charlie, the Prez’s daughter.”
She gives us a curt nod and scowls when she sees the way Barrels is looking at her.
“Where are your leathers?”
Seems he’s as much of a stickler for safety as Calvin, because the woman rolls her eyes, thick with liner.
“I’m wearing leather.” She hangs her helmet over the handlebars and grabs a bag from her saddle bag.
“You’re not working looking like that.” Barrels folds his arms across his chest.
“What are you, my father?”
“No, but he’d skin me alive if I let you out in the restaurant with that skirt on. It’s practically a belt.”
She strides past him. “You better take it up with Daddy then, because I don’t have a change of clothes. Unless you want me to go to work in my panties?”
She flicks him an innocent look with the hint of a challenge. I like this girl. She’s got spirit.
Red spreads up Barrels’s neck, and a vein ticks in his jaw. Charlie saunters past him and into the building.
“Damned kids,” Barrells mutters and takes off after her.
Calvin shakes his head. “I swear she does it to provoke him. Prez asked Barrels to keep an eye on her while he’s away in Italy with his wife, and he’s taking it far too seriously.”
I watch the large man with the full beard dash after the young woman.
“It’s one big family here, isn’t it?”
Calvin nods. “It is.”
I like it. The vibe here is good, and the people look out for each other.
“So about that stroll…” Calvin starts, and I cut him off by raising a finger to his lips.
“No stroll, old man. We’re going to have some fun.”
He narrows his eyes. “Why do I get the feeling I’m going to regret this?”