Be there in an hour.
The phone went nuts, lighting up and buzzing in my hand to announce Big Vick’s incoming call.
“Goddamn it,” I huffed, but I knew better than to ignore it. I swiped the green button, cleared my throat and put the phone to my ear.
“Anthony, nowhere in Swanwick requires an hour to get anywhere in town. Stop the bullshit. You got fifteen min–”
“I’m in fucking Raymond,” I cut him off.
“Raymond. What the fuck is in Ray–?”
“That stupid fuck went back for her. I told you!” Mak howled in the background, making me swallow a groan.
“Are you serious right now?” Vick’s whole tone changed to one of grit and forced patience. “You missed a vote… over some snatch you met twenty-four hours ago? Brother, tell me you’re kidding.”
“He better be fucking kidding. I ain’t laughin’. It ain’t fucking funny. I need him here in fifteen minutes. Do you hear me? Fifteen minutes or I swear to fuck he’ll never wink at another twat for as long as he lives. Do you hear me, Anthony?” a sharp pain shot through my ear, forcing me to jerk the phone away from my head a little bit while Mark raged.
I sighed, wet my lips and shook my head. I was forty minutes away if I hit a century and didn’t stop.
“I can’t be there in fifteen minutes. Give me an hour, Vick…”
“We don’t have an hour to give you, brother. We ride in fifteen. Get your ass to the clubhouse with Easy and Oak and don’t fucking leave until Mark and I get back.”
He hung up before I could get any details on where exactly they were going.
“Shit,” I scoffed, shoving the phone into my pocket.
He could have just told me the intended location, and I could have met up with them. My mind churned the possible causes for the club’s upset and big adventure.
Had we been robbed? It had only happened once before. Some out-of-town bikers broke into the shed on Mark’s old farmhouse and stole ten pounds of weed.
One time a handful of high school punks had set fire to a delivery truck at the clubhouse that had a bunch of fireworks in it from Indiana, but even that hadn’t caused this type of explosive backlash.
What the hell had I missed?
I was still asking myself the question when I parked my bike next to my little brother’s and made my way toward the front door of the clubhouse. I had a habit of leaning into the door, rather than grabbing the handle and pushing. I leaned in to do just that, while checking my phone and cursing myself for not giving Crystal my number, when Oak jerked the damn thing wide open. I fell into his broad chest like somebody’s damsel-ass bitch.
He belly laughed and tried bear hugging me, while I shoved at his shoulder. “Asshole!”
“I missed you, too, Ant.”
I squinted back at him.
His baby-blue eyes scanned my face like he was searching for something.
“What?”
“Nothing.” His brows shot up and he shrugged, before casually adding, “…just making sure I can remember later on what that razor jawline looked like before my brother got ahold of it.”
He reached out and playfully tried to brush his knuckles against my jaw, only to cackle when I slapped his arm away with a vicious pop.
“Fuck you. Get away from me,” I scoffed, marching past him.
Eric was sitting at the bar, not having bothered to raise his lanky ass from the stool for my benefit.
“Bout time you got home.”
“Don’t start. I’m already hearing it from Mark and Vick. Not to mention, Daisy has messaged enough it wouldn’t surprise me if she has early arthritis or some shit.”
