I remember the day he was killed like it was yesterday. He and Gold had gone after a lead to see if they could locate Faith. They found one and went into this bed and breakfast type of thing. Long story short, they found her in the basement . . . but my grandfather had stabbed my father before they found her. Gold slit my grandfather’s throat and was there when my father died.
I doubt he loved her, but he certainly did care a lot about the woman. At this point, she’s found happiness with Chuckles, and the two of them are a great match.
That night I rode over with Omen and Ricochet, I recalled the way my father’s body laid limp on the ground, under fluorescent lights I could see the color already fading from his body. He didn’t have a will or any of that shit, so I took care of his funeral arrangements, burying him in the same graveyard my mother is buried in.
Everything was so silent for a while, like it was all passing by in slow motion. With my father tracking down where his dad was, we thought everything was over. At least, we did for a time. Now we know there was more than one head to the cult he was in. We thought he was the leader, but now we don’t know anything for certain. There are too many things aren’t adding up, leading me to believe our fight with this fascist cult isn’t done.
“Why the hell did you ask us to meet you up here?” Ricochet, my Sergeant at Arms, barks. I turn my neck over my shoulder to face him, seeing how he’s charging up over here. I’m bettin’ I interrupted some fuck fest he had goin’ on downstairs and that’s why he’s so irritable.
Omen, on the other hand, is snickering from behind him, so that’s the only confirmation I need that my thoughts are on the bullseye. Omen is my VP, my right-hand man, and the only person I can count on in the club to have my back no matter what— even if he doesn’t agree with it.
“So I can throw you over the side if you give me shit,” I sneer, meeting his eyes with my own. Ricochet glares at me in response and falls on the outside seating that ends next to me. Meanwhile, Omen slides his hands into the pockets of his jeans and looks over the city like I just did moments ago.
“She only calls us up here when she has shit to say we don’t like to hear,” Omen speaks up, looking to Ricochet before he meets his eyes with mine.
Sometimes I hate that my VP knows me so well because he can call me out on all my shit, but there’s no one else I’d rather have at my side. Instead of playing it off like what I’m about to say isn’t that bad, I’m gonna spit it out. “I’m leaving in an hour to go meet with Stoney from the Devil’s Riot Originals.”
Ricochet raises his brows while Omen gives me the nastiest look he ever has. “You mean that misogynistic asshole? What the fuck do you need to meet him for?”
“Well, damn, Omen. If I didn’t know from firsthand experience, I’d think you have a pussy under those jeans. Didn’t know you hated him so much. I’m going to meet him because one of his charters has dealt with a cult similar to the one we’re dealing with. I’ve heard some rumors that they’re popping up in the Virginia and North Carolina area, so I’m going to see if we can agree to an alliance.”
“I don’t hate him. Hatred takes too much energy. Wouldn’t mind breaking his knees from what Ricochet relayed to me after the last time you ran into that group. Seems like a pretty small-minded fucker, if you ask me, and one thing we don’t need is an alliance with a man who has a pipsqueak-sized brain. Bet he doesn’t even like that you’re a woman in the Presidency.”
Omen doesn’t know it, but he’s spot on. I won’t admit that to him, though. I’ll simply leave him wondering and allow him to think about whether he just fucked up or not.
“Actually, I think I’ll get on the road now. I’ll be back late tonight, so do me a favor and don’t let shit go to hell while I’m gone.” I slap Omen on the shoulder as I walk away but stop in my tracks and turn back to him. “You won’t have a problem with that, right?”
I watch the way he bites his tongue and nods, so I continue onward, heading down the side stairwell that leads from the rooftop all the way down to the garage and hop on the seat of my bike. I don’t plan on staying, so the only thing I need with me is my gun, wallet, shades, and keys.
I slide my helmet over my head, not giving a fuck if it gives me helmet hair, and put the keys in my matte black Kawasaki Ninja H2 R, press the button on my keys for the garage bay door to open, and head down the road.
We agreed to meet later in the evening, so even with traffic I should get there a good hour or so ahead of schedule. I’ll scope out the place and see my advantage points just in case shit goes awry.
Lancaster, PA— here I come.
Chapter Three
Stoney
After five and some hours of being on the road without an ounce of coffee in my system, I’m looking forward to getting to my hotel,
