I was spared having to answer as we were both distracted by the roar of a motorcycle’s engine as it rounded the corner.How many people around here are bikers?
Talia stepped away from me, a smile stretching across her face. The man on the bike came up onto the sidewalk, parking it on the walkway leading to their side of the porch. When he dismounted, his back was to me for a brief moment, and I saw that the patch on the back of his jacket was different than the one I had spotted on Swole and Trainer’s jackets. This one had a skull with a bullet between its teeth and the words La Balas. It looked… sinister. I wasn’t sure what else I expected from a motorcycle club emblem, but for some reason, the sight of it made a shiver go down my spine.
I stood there awkwardly, watching as Talia met the man at the porch steps, jumping into his arms and wrapping her legs around his waist. They kissed, and I decided it was a good time to take my leave. I was no prude, and was harboring some dirty thoughts about a hunky biker myself, but watching my neighbors share this intimate moment was not my idea of a good time. And leaving gave me an easy out of the conversation.
I went into the house and started cooking dinner for Dominic, determining that it would be best to avoid the neighbors as much as possible. I wasn’t sure how easy that would be in a shared duplex, but I was going to try. Something in my gut told me that they were the kind of trouble I didn’t need.
Five
Trainer
Rock music was blaring in the garage as I put the Triumph up on the center stand. It was a new purchase and didn’t require a ton of work, but I still thought that I could fix it up a bit and sell it for a profit. First things first, the thing was overdue for an oil change. Removing the drain plug, I let the old oil leak out into the drain pan while I sipped on my bottle of beer. It always took a while to make sure all the old shit was completely out, but I didn’t mind. It was worth taking my time and doing it right.
Once the oil had finished draining, I replaced the filter with a new one, and added fresh oil. Letting the bike run for a few minutes so that the oil could work through the system, I washed my hands in the old utility sink in the corner of the garage.
Ortega’s Auto used to be owned by our old president, Padre, but since his death, ownership had transferred to his brother. Since he had enough on his plate with The Blue Dog, Padre had allowed Ryder to pretty much take over running the auto shop. It worked out well that way since Ryder had been working at the shop for years.
I wasn’t an employee of Ortega’s Auto, but Ryder let me use the shop to fix up my bikes, as long as I bought my own parts and tools. I didn’t have a garage at the apartment complex, so it was a lifesaver.
“A Bonneville?” A voice behind me spoke, barely audible over the music.
Turning away from the sink, I grabbed a roll of paper towels to dry my hands. Swole was standing next to the bike, looking it over. Of all the people in the Outlaw Souls, she and I had the greatest appreciation for European bikes. Everyone was crazy about riding, of course, and every member spent time wrenching on their own Harleys; but I found the Ducatis, BMWs, and Triumphs just as interesting.
“Yep,” I said nodding. I stepped over to the old stereo on the workbench and turned down the music. “You’re looking at a 79 T140.”
“Nice,” Swole ran a hand down the white gas tank, admiring the machine. “That was back when they still had kickstarters, right?”
I nodded. “She’s a 750cc parallel-twin,” I gave her the basic stats.
After we’d both taken our time examining the bike, she got to the point of tracking me down here. “I’m here on club business.”
“What is it?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. When Swole got serious, it was important to pay attention.
“That ride you’re planning, the big one. It can’t happen.”
The big one was a ride to the Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument in Utah. It would be the biggest ride the club had taken since before I was a member, spanning a couple of days, but it should be worth it. The beauty of the area was supposed to be something special to behold, and the twisty roads that cut paths through the region seemed as if they were made for adventure riding.
“Why not?” I couldn’t hide the disappointment in my voice, but I wasn’t going to argue with her. When the Sergeant at Arms made a proclamation like that, she usually had a good reason.
“This.” She pulled a small baggie out of her jacket pocket and held it up for me to see. The crystalline white powder was unmistakable.
“Meth.” I shook my head in disgust. That shit was poison. “Where’d you get that?”
“I’ve got a connection through the fitness club that keeps an eye on drug dealings in the area since Outlaw Souls started cleaning this shit up. She brought it to me. I’ll give you three guesses what the source is.”
I only needed one. “Las Balas.”
“You got it. I’ve already talked to Ryder, and we’ll go over it at the next meeting, but I wanted to let you know that the Utah ride was going to have to be postponed. We need all hands on deck to track down the source of this shit and get it out of our city.”
“Fuck,” I grumbled, shaking my head. I understood where she was coming from, priorities and all that, but that didn’t mean I was happy about it. “Alright, we’ll postpone. But I’m still taking us. It’ll be a great ride, worth the wait.”
“Deal,” she agreed, bumping knuckles with me.
I decided it was a good time to take a break, so I walked out of the shop at Swole’s side, locking up behind myself since the other guys were still at lunch. The day was a cloudy one, threatening rain.
“So… are you going to ask about her?”
I didn’t have to question who Swole was talking about. Erica hadn’t been far from my mind since I met her two days ago. I found her at the forefront of my thoughts way too often, considering that I barely knew the woman. Even more troubling was the way that my body reacted just at the thought of her. My blood was roaring.
