I pushed open the door and leaned against the jamb. “I need a favor.”
Tank sat on the edge of his bed, blinked sleep from his eyes, and tapped out a cigarette. Dozer and I had been friends for a while. For all my dad issues, I never had an issue with Dozer’s old man. Not that I knew him well. He was never around much, and by the time I came into the MC, he was locked up.
“Did you hear about last night?” I asked.
“Got in late. What’s up?”
I gave him the abridged version of events while he smoked his cigarette.
“I always had a soft spot for Levi. She’s just like Willow,” Tank said. “Hates to see a Heller hurting.”
“Kings fucked Ryatt up. I want him to stay here. He can share my room.”
Tank squinted against the smoke curling off his cigarette. “Not sure I want to know about that.”
“Nothing to tell.” Not yet. “Pike and Brenna are moving out. Another room will open up if he’s unhappy in mine.” My sexual preferences weren’t a secret, and noone would talk about my girl. McKelle was perfect. She put up with me. And because of her, Ryatt and I had a fragile truce.
However, there was no way to keep this thing between the three of us just between the sheets. Hellers were going to wonder about the mechanics of our relationship. Who was fucking whom? It was none of their business.
“Your girl wasn’t too happy with you working for Bullet. How’s she going to feel about you sharing a room with your prospect?”
“You’ll have to ask her, but I think she’s good since she was in bed with us.” Why hide it? He’d know by tonight when they were both in my bed again.
“You and Dozer got the same affliction.” He shook his head. “What’s the favor?” he asked with the cigarette bouncing between his lips.
“I need to know how you got out from under your PO.” Tank was living here in the MC, working for the mafia, and riding with the club that got him locked up in the first place. Ryatt needed that kind of sweetheart deal. “Ryatt needs legal counsel.”
Tank stood and stretched. “Give me five minutes to take a leak. I’ll meet you in the chapel.”
“Thanks.”
I stepped away and went to the chapel. Ryatt and McKelle sat at a small table. McKelle tilted her head and laughed at something Ryatt said. Who was this girl? With me, she was all fire and attitude, but with Ryatt she was like a flirtatious kitten.
I smiled at her as I went behind the bar, rinsed the carafe, and refilled it for a fresh pot of coffee.
“We were talking about his bike,” she said, standing from the table and crossing to the bar. She slid onto oneof the barstools. Ryatt came with her and stood behind her. “He won’t report it stolen so he’s not going to get anything from an insurance payout. But my dad has the Ducati. He never rides at the track anymore.”
“Cops are going to ask questions,” I said. “But we have time to get him a ride. With his ribs, he’s in a cage for a few weeks anyway.”
“I know, but apparently, I have a type when it comes to boyfriends since he’s just like you and nothing I say is getting through.”
“McKelle, I’m not taking your dad’s bike, and I’m not riding yours. I don’t want your parents to know anything about this. Period. I’ll figure something out. Romeo had a Honda down at the shop. Maybe it’s still there.”
“Dozer just got a bike off Lee. It needs work, but you need rest and to lay low for a couple weeks anyway for your ribs to heal. You could barely crawl out of bed. I’ll talk to Dozer about the bike. I know he’ll work out a deal.”
McKelle propped her elbow on the bar. “Since you won’t go to the police, I was just suggesting there are temporary options.”
“I’m seeing the big picture,” Ryatt said. “There are dead Kings in the trap house. My DNA is all over that bathroom. It fucking sucks, but I’m taking the loss on this one. I owe about eight grand on my loan. That’s a small price to pay for my freedom.”
“I agree with Rizz.” I pulled four mismatched mugs from the shelf. “It’s not a real bike anyway.”
“Fuck you,” Ryatt said and smiled.
“Is that coffee ready?” Tank entered the chapel and combed his hand down his beard.
I filled the mugs, and we gathered around one of the tables. Tank stretched his legs out in front of him, growled, and took a sip of coffee. “They fucked you up,” he said to Ryatt.
“It looks worse than it is.”
