Link
DERYK ROBERTS WAS going to be a problem. Standing about six feet tall and weighing in at maybe two hundred pounds with a grown-out buzz cut and an unshaven face, he waited at the curb in front of the airport, a vacant look in his eyes as he watched traffic. Wearing athletic pants, some college team sweatshirt, and sneakers he didn’t exactly fit the bill of a biker. But, since he was still months shy of twenty-one and already had a dishonorable discharge under his belt, his options were slim.
I pulled to a stop beside him and unlocked the door of my truck. I didn’t usually drive the beast, but I wasn’t about to let the kid ride on the back of my sled like a bitch. “Hey Deryk, I’m Link. It’s good to meet you, brother.”
He gripped my hand, then popped his bags into the extended cab and climbed in.
“Your grandpa said you have a motorcycle endorsement on your license. When we get to the station, I’ll hook you up with a bike you can use.”
We merged into traffic, out into the rain. Deryk eyed the fat drops and asked, “You ride bikes in this weather?”
I nodded. “Welcome to western Washington. If we didn’t ride in the rain, we’d never ride.”
He continued to glare at the weather. Originally from Texas, my new recruit had spent the past several months as an inmate at the Naval Consolidated Brig in Chesapeake, Virginia.
“Don’t worry,” I assured him. “The rain grows on you.”
“Yeah, so does ringworm. I don’t want that shit either.”
I chuckled. He may not be a biker, but he sure as hell had the attitude down.
The drive to the clubhouse was uneventful, giving me a chance to think about how to handle this kid. As my Sergeant at Arms, Havoc had always had my back when we brought in new recruits. Especially recruits with baggage. I should bail Havoc’s ass out, regardless of his stupid request to leave him locked up. He had his mind set on recruiting a Marine vet staying two cells down, scheduled for release in a couple of weeks. We didn’t usually recruit from prison cells, but there were extenuating circumstances.
Havoc was the biggest, scariest son-of-a-bitch among us, but he was hands-down the best man I ever met. Keeping him in that cell had been a real eye opener as to how much I depended on him. It wasn’t that I couldn’t break in a recruit without him, I just didn’t want to. It felt wrong, like I wasn’t giving the kid the full picture of the Dead Presidents without such a key member.
Still, after all Deryk had been through, I couldn’t have turned him away.
I parked in the lot beside the fire station and took Deryk through the roll up door, turning to watch him take it all in. Shortly after my dad had founded the club, he’d purchased an old fire station and turned it into our base of operations. My old man took pride in anything he owned, and he’d devoted himself to restoring the station to its former beauty, while customizing it for the biker lifestyle. The floor was concrete with a stain-resistant epoxy finish. Brick walls extended to high ceilings, and a wooden staircase to the right of the front door led up to the sleeping rooms. Hanging over the door was a giant banner with the Dead Presidents logo.
The building was impressive, but so were the dozen or so long-haired, tatted up bikers and half-dressed women currently occupying it.
“Hey Prez,” the club secretary, Eagle, said, a beer in one hand, a cute little redhead named Lacy in the other.
“Hey Eagle. Meet our new recruit, Deryk,” I said.
“Deryk?” Eagle asked, his brows rising while he shook the kid’s hand.
“Yeah. Haven’t gotten around to giving him a road name yet.”
“A road name?” Deryk asked.
Eagle chuckled. “You think Eagle’s my real name?”
The kid shrugged like he couldn’t care less.
“Good luck,” Eagle said to both of us. “Be seein’ you.”
Deryk gave him a nod and Eagle proceeded to finish his march to the corner, dropped his pants, and leaned back against the wall. Lacy wasted no time at all, falling to her knees and doing her damnedest to swallow his dick.
Deryk gaped. I nudged the kid and he closed his mouth, took off his sweatshirt, and hung it on the rack beside my jacket. He followed me around the common room while I introduced him to some of the other brothers.
“The TVs are first come, first serve,” I said, pointing out the four flat screens centered around furniture groupings. “You change a show that someone’s watchin’, and they’ll probably bust out your teeth.”
We walked on. “Pool tables and dart boards are the same deal. In fact, everything down here is free range. Just don’t be a selfish bastard and you’ll be fine.”
I led him to the bar, where a blonde with big fake tits busting out of her low-cut blouse was pouring drinks.
“Hey, Link, you want the usual?” she asked, giving me a wink.
