“Sign this to get your stuff back,” the man said, placing a plastic bag with everything they’d emptied from my pockets and my shoelaces.
“The charges against you have been dropped.” The sergeant answered my unspoken question.
That made no sense, but I wasn’t going to challenge it. Signing the clipboard, I put my wallet, phone, and pocket knife back into my jeans and tucked my sunglasses into my jacket pocket. Then I headed for the door before they changed their minds about detaining me.
It occurred to me that I didn’t have a way home. My bike had been left behind at John’s house, so it had probably been towed away by now. I wasn’t looking forward to dealing with that.
As I walked out of the police station, I paused mid-stride at the sight of my friend, Hawk, waiting for me at the curb, leaning up against his truck. His arms were crossed over his chest and his eyebrow arched when he caught sight of me.
“Are you an idiot?” he asked.
“Nice to see you, too,” I said, arching my back in a stretch. My body would probably ache for a few days after that damn bench. “I take it that you were the reason I got out?”
Hawk nodded. “I had a conversation with your friend John.”
Hawk circled his truck, getting behind the wheel as I climbed into the passenger seat.
“You rough him up too?” I asked with a grin. He’d deserve it.
“Some of us have a little more finesse than you do.”
Hawk fired up the truck and pulled out onto the street.
“You talked him out of it? How did you manage that?”
“The man’s married with kids. He didn’t want his wife to find out the reason that he was attacked. I made it clear that she would knowexactlywhat he’d done to deserve a broken nose unless he dropped the charges.”
“Nice.” I nodded appreciatively. “Abby called you?”
“Yeah.”
I probably should have expected that. Outlaw Souls, the motorcycle club that we were a part of, had offered their protection to Abby and her girls last year. They’d had some trouble with our rival club, Las Balas, coming around and trying to take advantage of them. Their perception was that strippers were whores and deserved to be roughed up or just treated poorly.
Abby was a smart woman, and she’d enlisted our help. That was how I met her and got my job.
“Thanks,” I said, looking out the window. I knew without asking that we were heading to the Blue Dog, the club’s bar. I didn’t come to the bar very often on the weekends, because I was always working at the strip club.
When we arrived, the parking lot was filling up quickly. I spotted the club members’ bikes lined up in a row closest to the building. My eyes zeroed in on my own bike among them. I turned to Hawk with a grin.
“I could kiss you.”
“Don’t waste your affection on me. It was Blade and Kat. They hurried out to get the thing before it was picked up and impounded.”
That was the best thing about being in a motorcycle club like Outlaw Souls. We looked out for each other. We were like family.
We headed inside, and it was surreal to see the place so full. Nearly every club member was here, as well as some regulars that liked the vibe of the biker bar. Later, we’d get some wannabes—men that idolized the idea of bikers and wanted to pretend to be one or women that wanted to sleep with us—they didn’t really fit in, but their money was as good as anyone else’s.
I went to the bar, where Yoda was running things along with our prospect, Axel. My stomach was rumbling after spending all afternoon in jail, with nothing that I considered edible to eat, so I ordered a dozen chicken wings with extra hot sauce and a bottle of beer. The perfect dinner, in my opinion.
I ate at the bar, talking to Hawk and Ryder, the president of our club. I was the youngest member of the club at twenty-two, but it didn’t affect my relationship with the other patches. I fit right in with this crowd when I first started coming to the bar last year. I’d been riding motorcycles since long before I was legally allowed to do so, when one of Mom’s friendlier boyfriends taught me how to ride on a little Honda Rebel that he owned. I was fourteen and immediately became a lifelong biker. Now I wore the Outlaw Souls patch on the back of my jacket with pride.
My eyes landed on another club member, Blade, playing pool with his girlfriend. Kat spent more time at the bar than most of the other members’ women, and she rode a motorcycle herself, but she’d never shown any interest in becoming a member. She didn’t have to be one; anyone was welcome to hang out at the bar.
Ordering another beer, I slid off the barstool and headed in their direction. Kat was kicking his ass, and I watched as she made the final shot of the game, sinking the black eight ball into the corner pocket.
Blade groaned as she straightened, shooting him a victorious smile.
“I told you, I’m awesome,” she said.
