My blood runs on fire every day. Probably what keeps me alive at this point. Vengeance fuels my only motivation. And I keep craving it like a warm dessert, hungry for more.
A noise jerks me back into focus.
Chain slammed the gavel down dismissing us. “Hey. You stay.” His meaty finger points my way, and he waits for everyone to leave before handing me a piece of paper with an address written on it. It’s one I recognize in the slums. “I need you and Throttle to pay this guy a visit for me. His name is Grizzly. Don’t let that fool you though, he’s a five-foot little weasel who owes the club money. Just need you to go and scare him a bit.”
Chain got him and Grizzly’s girl out of a tough situation. Needed help with food and rent. He was always a twitchy punk. According to our Prez.
I nod, tucking the paper into my jean pocket then glance back at my President who’s studying me with an apprehensive look. “Anything else, boss?”
A beat passes. “No. That’s it.”
That wasn’t it. He wants to say something, but I nod and make my exit, avoiding small talk like the plague. It’s uncomfortable and makes me itch.
I grab my ski mask, hat, gloves, and head straight for my Harley parked inside one of the shop’s garages. Then wait for Throttle.
The snow is thick enough to cover the drive and side path, and it’s fucking cold, but that’s not going to stop me. I beat my kickstand up before backing her up.
Throttle walks over with a little more pep in his step and stops at my side, hands inside his hoodie pocket and his breath visible in the air. “Hey, man. Ride with me in the truck.”
Throttle’s mood has been one tick off from Santa Claus. He and his girl finally hooked up after three long years of ignoring their true feelings. We all knew it would happen; just didn’tthink it would take so damn long. Tequila’s a sweet chick. All the ol’ ladies are. Charger’s ol’ lady, Jules and of course Maggie, our President’s. They’re badass and the guys have every right to be proud. Even Angel earned my respect as the only female patched member.
“I’m solid but thanks. I’ll meet you there.” I zip up my leather and get ready to take off, but he steps in front of my ride.
“You know… my ol’ lady is kind of fond of you. So if you go and get yourself killed on black ice or some shit, that’ll make her depressed as fuck.”
For a second, something warm coats my chest at the thought of Tequila or anyone for that matter, spending an ounce of energy caring for me. Is riding my Harley in the dead ass of winter stupid? Yes. I’m fully aware of the potential risks. I just don’t give a damn.
Do it.
“I’m good,” I reassure him.
Seconds tick by before he nods in surrender and side steps, allowing me to pass.
The wind violently rips through me, and I pull my mask up higher. The blur of the trees is left behind as downtown comes into view. It’s not the shittiest but also not the greatest. I’ve ridden in worse.
Right now, there’s only a staggering of people, some unhoused huddled in corners of the alleyways. At least they have blankets. If not, I’d come back later with some.
I look for the correct apartment then park my Harley on the street, making sure to lock it. There’re passing glances from people entering the building as I stand by my bike waiting for Throttle. We haven’t earned that kind of reputation here, but they’re not dumb enough to find out what we’re capable of. They see an MC and immediately want no part. Even if we’re not that kind of club. Not without purpose anyway.
Throttle pulls up beside me with a nod. “Ready to do this?”
“Always.” I’ve been on these kinds of jobs with him before. We work well together. But our last one wasn’t exactly ordered by our President. Going rogue was impulsive, but we did it to protect Throttle’s girl, and I’d do it again. For any of my brothers. And their ol’ ladies.
The old, rickety stairs creak as I follow Throttle up two floors, stopping in front of the apartment door. My bat hangs at my side, and I can smell the foul odor seeping through from the other side. Cigarettes. Spoiled food. Bad hygiene. Whatever, you name it.
The tapping of my bat connecting with the door echoes off the walls, and I only give it a passing beat before pounding again but this time with my fist. Me and Throttle wait in bated breaths side by side.
There’s finally signs of life with muffled sounds and footsteps. “Who the fuck?”
Taking advantage of our kindness isn’t something we can ignore. Word spreads we’ve gone soft, and that leaves us open and vulnerable. We have too many enemies for that.
The door flies open, Grizzly’s eyes widening in shock and fear. “Shit.” He quickly tries to shut it, but I kick it back open with the steel of my boot, sending him scurrying back.
Throttle’s laugh bounces off the walls of nothing. “Come on, man. That’s no way to greet your guests.”
My boot meets the door again, slamming it closed.
“Hey. Hey. Sorry, guys. How, uh, are you? Want a drink?” Grizzly stutters, about pissing himself.
