Chapter One
Nashville
Usually, when my phone rings, I’m quick to answer. It’s never a social call, it’s always work. Damn, I’m fucked, I can barely open my eyes, and where the fuck am I anyway? I peek open one eye and recognize my surroundings.
At least I’m in my own bed, and one glance behind me tells me I’m alone. So why do I feel like I’ve been clocked on the head instead of sleeping.
The phone stops ringing, giving me time to groan, wipe my eyes and stretch out like a starfish.
There is nothing like a good back crack when you wake up, even my toes pop. Rolling over, I pick up the phone and check the display, squinting again. With one tap on the base, the lamp comes on, it’s on the lowest setting so I don’t burn my retinas.
Last time I checked, it was Tuesday. Today is Thursday. Well, fuck me, I actually did sleep for two days. It’s a miracle no one bothered me. Technically, I haven’t slept the whole time, a man’s gotta eat. But I do need a shower.
It’s been a hell of a few weeks. And the problems the club is facing aren’t fixed yet, so nothing is going to let up. The call was from Rebel, my VP at the Blackhawk Disciples MC. As an officer, I’m expected to be available at any time. Luckily, checking the call log, I’ve not missed any other calls.
Rolling onto my back and fussing with the pillow to get comfortable, I hit redial and try to sneak the yawn out before he picks up.
Rebel is a good guy, we get on, but he is super serious. Guess he has to be holding the role he does. Sometimes he’s more of a hard ass than Nero, our president, and that guy is really something when he’s out for blood.
After what happened with his son, who none of us knew existed till this week, and his new woman, he’s shown a different side to himself.
Most of the officers at the club are good guys, given what we do. Occasionally there are some arguments, but we always have each other’s backs. Then there is Stryker, our Reaper, the man who deals with the really fucked up shit no one else wants to.
We were at his farm outside of the city just a few nights ago, getting information from one of the assholes who attacked Nero’s house. I’m just glad I left before the body was thrown to the pigs. I’m not as squeamish about it as Nero or some of the other guys, but I did watch them once. They don’t even care they’re eating clothes.
Enough of that shit.
“Need you at the clubhouse.”
No preamble from Rebel as normal. “What’s up?”
“The other issue Nero had us on, it’s time.”
“Give me fifteen.”
Rebel hangs up. Fifteen minutes to shower, grab a pop tart and get to the clubhouse. Doable. Maybe. It actually takes twenty-five, but I’m only the fourth person to arrive, so I feel somewhat vindicated. At least I smell fresh as a daisy, even if my stomach is empty.
“This is that college kid?” Beast asks.
He’s sitting at the table already, drinking a cup of coffee. Bastard. He’s a big dude and he’s been here a long time, but only became the Tail Gunner when Nero took over.
Some might say it's not one of the sexiest roles to have in an MC, but the tail gunner is really fucking important on runs. Anyone comes upbehind you, trying to ambush or sneak attack, Beast is the first line of defense for the whole crew.
I sit next to him and lean over a little to sniff his coffee. He elbows me.
“Pots full over there, asshole.”
He scowls at my grin. I go over to grab some and raise the pot at Blaze when he comes in. He nods, and I make him one too. He’s the club secretary/treasurer, but also the guy who knows how to do all the technical stuff we use these days.
Like finding this college kid.
In all the hubbub with Storm, the ex-member who is causing us shit, dealing with this kid has been put on the back burner. Nero will never forget it. The dipshit attacked Taylor, Nero’s woman. The stupid son of a bitch has been marked and doesn’t know it yet.
We protect our own, and sometimes what we do is just mild retaliation, or a warning. Putting hands on a woman, especially the President’s woman, well that is a fucked up offense.
The other man in the room is Fury, our enforcer, no need to explain his job. He beats the shit out of people. Although no one does that quite like Stryker who is nowhere to be seen.
“Sit down,” Rebel says.
