The breeze kicked up. The wind whistled past his visor as the headlight cut through the darkness in front of him. He loved the throb of the powerful engine between his thighs almost as much as the soft female body pressing into his back.
Even with the bumps in the dark stretch of dirt winding along the creek, it didn’t take much time to reach the paved road running parallelto the back of the property. He pulled onto the asphalt and headed east, turned south once they reached the highway leading to the roadhouse.
The ride wasn’t nearly long enough. He wished he could just keep going, pull over somewhere and spread the blanket he kept in his saddlebags, spend the next few hours looking up at the stars and making love to the lady behind him.
Instead, he slowed as he spotted the illuminated sign for Jubal’s. Though it was the middle of the week, the parking lot was more than half full. He didn’t miss the row of bikes, their front wheels turned and aligned, parked to the right of the entrance.
He recognized Rick Dugan’s Harley and the bikes belonging to Del Aimes and Johnnie Banducci, all parked together. His friends were here, as well as what appeared to be half a dozen Demons. “Once a member, always a member” seemed to be their motto, along with any friendlies, which had always included him.
Linc set a hand at Carly’s waist as they climbed the wooden stairs, crossed the old board floors of the porch, and pushed through the swinging doors. As they stepped inside, he eased her closer. These guys were friends, but they were still men. He didn’t want anyone to doubt she belonged to him.
The jukebox was playing Willie Nelson. Guiding her toward the bar, he wasn’t surprised to see Rowena pouring drinks. Along with her new job at Drake, she planned to bartend a few nights a week just for fun.
“Hey, Row.” Carly waved as they approached.
Rowena smiled. “Hey, boss.”
Carly grinned at the name and Row grinned back.
“Your friends are waiting,” Row said to Linc, tipping her head toward the group at the back of the bar, a cluster of rough-looking, tattooed men in motorcycle leathers. Silver glittered in studs and piercings.
“Give me a Shiner Bock and Carly a Lone Star and put it on my tab,” Linc said.
“Will do.” Row popped the caps off a pair of ice-cold bottles and set them down on the counter. They picked up their beers and began to weave their way toward the rear of the bar.
“Hey, Cain, over here!” Del Aimes shoved a chair out from the table with his boot. “Have a seat, girl.”
“Hi, Del.” Carly sat down and Linc spun a chair around and sat down next to her. “You know these three troublemakers,” he said, referring to his friends, then turned to the other men. “Guys, this is Carly Drake. She owns Drake Trucking. Carly meet Tag, Baldy, Wolf, Lenny, Spaceman, and Bat.”
“Good to meet you,” she said.
The men tipped their chins up in greeting. In the pecking order, Tag was the leader, six-two, beefy and darkly tanned, with shaggy brown hair to his shoulders. “We hear you got trouble,” Tag said. “What can we do?”
For the next half hour, Linc told them about El Jefe, about the threats he’d made, their need to find him and put an end to him and his organization.
“So what do you need from us?” Baldy asked, his bare head gleaming.
“I need you to put the word out,” Linc said. “Twenty five thousand to the man who can give me a name. Fifty if he gives me a name and a location. It needs to be real. If it is, he gets paid.”
Lenny whistled, a blond guy with long hair pulled back in a ponytail. “Fifty grand,” he said. “That ought to stir things up.”
Linc tipped back his beer, took a long swallow. “The trick is no one can know either of us is involved. That comes out, one or both of us is likely to wind up dead.”
Tag blew out a breath. “Man, you got that right. Word on the street, the guy’s a bad motherfucker.”
“Dude’s into some heavy shit,” Baldy said, “but nobody seems to know what it is.”
“You do this,” Linc said, “you need to be careful. I don’t want any of you getting dead, either.”
Tag picked up his glass and threw back a shot of tequila. “We’ll talk it over, work out a plan. We ain’t forgot the favors you’ve done us over the years.”
“Yeah, like the time you put up the money for Wolf’s hospital bills when he took that bad spill out on the interstate.”
“Or the time you helped us repair the clubhouse when that motherfuckin’ tornado took it to the ground,” Lenny said.
“Would have taken years to raise enough to rebuild,” Wolf agreed, “even with part of it covered by insurance.”
“It hasn’t all been one-sided,” Linc said. “You guys have been good friends over the years. I appreciate that and I appreciate what you’re doing to help me now.”
