Chapter One
Ace
The neon sign aboveThe Broken Spokeflickered to life, washing the windows in red and gold.I dragged a towel across the bar’s scarred oak surface, same as I had every night for years.The waning sunlight painted the room in worn-out colors, soft enough to hide most of the damage but not the age.The smell of beer, wood polish, and dust clung to every inch of the place.Seven years of running this joint hadn’t changed much.Wipe the bar, stock the coolers, check the taps, unlock the door, and see what kind of trouble rolled through before sunrise.
I tossed the towel aside and crouched to count bottles.Cold air brushed my face when I opened the cooler.Bud Light.Coors.A few fancy labels for college kids from the next town who thought drinking craft beer made them worldly.My hands worked on instinct, restocking without effort while my thoughts drifted to the schedule Jenna had left.Three open shifts.No easy way to cover them.
A motorcycle growled outside, a sound I could’ve picked out anywhere.Maui.I closed the cooler and turned as heavy boots hit gravel.The front door swung wide, and he filled the frame, the last bit of daylight flashing over the Savage Raptors patch on his vest.He’d worn the patch longer than I’d been breathing, easy.
“You’re early.”I filled a glass of water.
He grinned, an easy smile he always used whenever he wanted everyone around him to relax.Strangers believed every second of the act.Brothers knew better.“Wanted to catch you before the rush.”He settled onto a stool.“Figured you’d want the news straight from me before the gossip train started rolling.”
“Appreciate it.”I slid the water across the counter and leaned against the back shelf.“What’s the word?”
“Sunday night.Clubhouse.Mandatory.”He drank and then set the glass down.“There’s something brewing.Didn’t say what, but Atilla had the look.”
“Guess I’ll find out Sunday.”
Maui’s gaze shifted toward the top shelf where the good whiskey waited.“You pouring, or should I climb back there and risk ruining your setup?”
“You still can’t pour worth a damn.”I reached for the Maker’s.
He smirked.“Seven years and you still think that cheap stuff deserves a place on your shelf.”
I poured two fingers of whiskey and slid the glass across.He lifted the drink in a mock salute before taking a long swallow.Silence settled between us -- comfortable, familiar.We’d known each other since my first week as a Prospect.Back then, I’d been searching for something I couldn’t name.Maybe a place to belong.Maybe peace.The club gave me both.The Spokecame later when the brothers needed a steady hand here.I’d traded a hammer for a bar rag, found purpose, and hadn’t looked back.
“How’s the family?”I stacked coasters already perfectly aligned, giving my hands something to do.
“Good.Casey’s on some health kick -- fish, greens, no red meat.I told her she might be trying to keep me alive, but she’s going to end up killing me with this crap.”
“Could be worse.”
“Could be.”He rolled the whiskey in his glass, amber light catching the edges.“Heard Jenna’s been covering extra shifts.”
“She has.”I checked the taps, running the lines until they ran clear.“Best worker I’ve got.”
He lifted an eyebrow.“Someone said you gave her keys.”
“Who’s talking?”
“People always talk.”He grinned.“Just making sure you’re not going soft.”
“She earns her keep.Shows up, stays sober, doesn’t steal.More than most can claim.”I restocked the rail.“Someone needs to open when club business calls.”
Maui nodded, content.He finished his drink, then nudged the empty glass in my direction.“One more?”
“You planning to ride home drunk?”
“One won’t hurt.”He tapped the rim.“Live a little.”
I poured half a glass.The neon sign buzzed overhead, steady and soft.Outside, twilight deepened to indigo.Soon the lot would overflow, bikes and trucks claiming every inch of pavement, laughter and music swallowing the quiet.For now, only Maui and I remained.
“Sunday.”He stood.“Don’t forget.”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
He paused at the door.“Ever think about where you’d be if you hadn’t joined up?”
