“Hardly. But an annoyance to see a troubled MC brought back to life, fucking A.”
“We don’t want no trouble. We’re a hobby club.”
“Hobby club.” Repeated Hawk, darker, more murderous in tone. “And I’m the Easter bunny.”
“No, for real, man. My brother was a low-ranking officer in the Rebels when I was a kid. I grew up helping him fix his bikes. There are only thirteen of us. You can come in and check. We respect the Souls. All we do is hang out and ride.”
Robert was losing his asshole under Rider’s stare. Rider turned his head and looked at Hawk, who shrugged, but he made it known he was carrying a piece when he opened his jacket. Robert whistled. “Seriously, man, we ain’t gonna cause waves or anything. We all got day jobs. My VP is a plumber. I work on construction. We wanted something to do, and I remembered my brother’s old MC, he’s dead now, thought it would, I don’t know, honor him or some shit. Seemed a good idea.”
If he was going to wear a road name like Titan, he needed better ideas.
Rider and Hawk looked around inside. It was nothing to write home about. It reminded him of building a forte when he was six in the backyard.
Pitiful.
This was the new enemy he’d been imagining?
He disapproved of them using the Rebels name, but far as he could see, it was Robert’s only crime.
“We good then?” A nervous Robert asked, following them outside again. Rider arched his brow, facing him. “We don’t have a good history with the Rebels, so you better hope you’re telling me the truth today, Robert. I don’t give second chances with my generosity. I’ll take it as a personal insult if one word of what you’ve told me checks out to be a lie, you get me?”
“Sure, sure thing, man.”
“You keep out of Denver. You never step foot in Armado Springs. And I fucking mean ever. If anyone sees your faces in my territory, we’ll be back, and Hawk won’t be as happy as he is now.”
“You have my word. And if ever you need backup with anything, we’re here, you know?”
Highly unlikely. Rider hated ass kissers. However, this meeting hadn’t gone as he first thought. A lot less bloodshed, he was not happy about the Rebels being associated with nostalgia. That’s how hero-worshipping started.
He noted Robert stayed in the doorway, watching them stride to their bikes.
“What’s your read on them?” He asked his VP.
“Don’t like it. You notice he wouldn’t say which Rebels his bro was.”
Yeah, he had.
“We can put a prospect on watch, see if Robert is true in what he said.”
Only time would tell if Rider’s gut was right.
It was rarely wrong.
NINE
“Heavy is the head who enforces the hard decisions.” - Rider
Wedding: T-minus 13 days.
Telling Zara everything that night, Rider didn’t have to brace for his woman’s breakdown. She was stronger than that, taking in everything he shared with calmness. After a beat of silence, she asked all the right questions.
So proud of her.
Are they dangerous to us?
Did they show signs of sycophant worship?
Are any of them from years ago?
Do they want to move on the Souls turf?
“They were pathetic, Zara.” He shared. “It was like a den for kids, hardly a MC at all. I filled Jamie in. He’s gonna put a man on the look-out. We’ll see what it brings.”
Rider came up behind her, scooted her ice-white hair over one shoulder, and he dipped down to kiss her exposed neck. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, honey. You would have sniffed out trouble a mile away. I trust your gut instinct. If it’s just silly boys, then they have nothing to do with…before. I can’t condemn men to a fate they had nothing to do with, can I?”
His woman had a heart. She had a conscience. Though she dreaded mention of the Raging Rebels, her steadfast morals would never allow her to put a head into the guillotine if they didn’t deserve it.
It’s what he loved about her most.
She kept him right.
Rider didn’t have any such scruples.
He saw in black and white, and though he’d seen nothing outwardly wrong in that new club, he didn’t trust it.
* * *
Hawk knew him too well.
They’d grown up in the club together.
Going through grueling times, which forged their trust and friendship.
There was no one else who Rider would want as VP, someone to tell him like it is with no sugar-coating bullshit.
Pale eyes, cold as dick rot, watched him as they cradled bottles of beer.
“You’re worrying,” Hawk spoke finally, resting an arm on the table.
“Hm.” He answered, taking a long pull on the Carlsberg imported beer. He wanted whiskey, rum, tequila. Anything to get him as drunk as possible.
But he didn’t do that shit much anymore. Not now he had a family to take care of.
The need to get out of his mind and fuck something up with his fists was there, chewing through his brain.
Would this shit ever end for his Zara?
Could he ever get her to a place she felt safe enough if something were always going to rear its fucking head to frighten her?
Rider felt useless.
She said she was fine and was fine with the outcome he’d shared with her.
Fine. His woman was not fine.
It was less than two weeks until their wedding. She should be on top of the world in Bridezilla mode, not feeding him shitty, lying words like fine and okay.
“You made it clear to them, Ri. They’d be fucking idiots to step into Colorado again.”
He’d made the wrong decision.
