I groan, sighing heavily. This is not the way to get them to let us in.
The three men all have guns pointed at one another. Shaking my head, I pull out my phone and send a text off to Kane.
A few moments later, Terk’s phone starts to ring. He frowns and pulls it out of his pocket, not moving the gun pointed at Nick. He answers it, but I can’t hear what he’s saying over the rumbling of our engines.
Whatever Kane is telling him, Terk does not seem happy about it. Eventually, he steps to the side and opens the gate. I grin, tucking my phone away.
We could have forced their hand, but that would have probably ended up with Terk and his buddy dead. Not the best impression, killing more men when so many lives have already been lost, even though the world is a better place without them.
Nick shoves his helmet back on and takes off through the gate, flipping Terk off as he goes. I follow after him, laughing as Terk shouts and curses behind us.
The place looks the same, if not worse than it did when we left. It looks like shit, as if people moved into a junkyard and made it their home.
We pull up to the clubhouse and turn off our bikes. Pulling my helmet off, my heart sinks as I look around.
Kids run around with no fucking shoes on and ripped clothes.What the actual fuck?
My eyes find Nick’s and I know he’s wondering what the hell is going on, too.
As we look around, we see it’s a lot worse than we expected. The place is a shithole. The clubhouse looks like it’s one bad strong breeze away from crumbling.
Garbage litters the ground, broken run-down cars are scattered all over the place, along with what looks like burn barrels and other random junk.
“What the fuck happend to this place?” Nick hisses.
“I have no idea,” I mutter, running a hand through my bright red curls.
“Christ,” Nick mutters. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Kane isn’t going to like this. It’s like this place is the poster child for severe poverty.”
“OrThe Hills Have Eyes,” Nick mutters, staring at an old man sitting on the deck, eyes closed, mouth open, snoring away. He’s dressed in dirt covered clothes, full of holes. “Fucking hell.”
With one last look around, I realize the children are staring at us like we are some kind of aliens. I quickly follow Nick into the clubhouse.
“What the fuck is that smell?” Nick gags, waving his hand in front of his face.
My hand goes up to my nose, covering it as the putrid smell hits me next. Looking around, I see nothing but men scattered around the place, all dressed in the MC’s cut.
The place smells of cheap sex, beer, and vomit.
My lip curls in disgust. What the fuck has my father done to this place? It was never a classy joint, but it was in decent shape. It’s like no one has any pride anymore.
My eyes scan the room, stopping when they reach the bar. My gut turns as my heart starts racing in panic. I’m a grown-ass man, I shouldn’t fear anyone.
Yet, as I watch her laugh and chatter with the two women sitting at the bar with her, I feel the need to vomit.
Julia Rigs, our stepmother, and the monster of my past.
“Well, you sure look like a mourning widow,” Nick snarls.
Julia’s laughter stops as her head snaps our way. Her lips part in shock. “Nick.” She jumps to her feet, her eyes flicking over to mine and I swear I almost puke at the excitement in her eyes when she sees me. “And Will.”
Unable to look at her, my eyes dart away.
“What are you two doing here?”
“Heard the old man finally got what was coming to him,” Nick answers.
