“We honor the favor. That’s it. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
No one argued, debated, or complained. We all knew better. Plus, this was nowhere near the most dangerous mission we’d been on. This was the cost of doing business in this world.
Me? I was feelin’ some kind of way about seeing Viper again. Three days ago, he’d auctioned Winter off like property and now we were makin’ him look like a badass in public. It was proof that life wasn’t fuckin’ fair.
Storm announced, “Meeting adjourned. Mount up and be ready to ride in forty-five minutes.”
I pushed up from my seat and followed them out of the chapel. I checked on Winter and asked Rosie to stick close.
Outside my spirits picked up a bit at the sound of multiple engines comin’ to life all at the same time. That was where I came into my own, ridin’ the open road with my club brothers. There was nothin’ else quite like that kind of brotherhood. It was something I craved and needed in life, something I’d never taint or give up.
As for Viper, the only silver lining in the situation was we would be down to just two favors after tonight and that meant one step closer to getting a scumbag like Viper out of our lives.
I got onto my bike and pushed the ignition switch. Grit pulled up beside me and jerked his chin. That meant we were riding shoulder to shoulder, at least until we met up with Viper’s crew and paired up with them.
Storm rolled out first, Celt fell in beside him automatically because they always rode together. Next was Breaker and Thunder, and then the rest of us filling in behind them in tight formation. Riding in groups is where muscle memory took over. Years of riding together had made this kind of movement second nature to us.
Five hours. That was how far Viper had chosen to make us ride tonight. It was an outrageous demand, especially on short notice. As far as I was concerned this was a favor squandered. He could have asked to ride with us at the next PATCH rally. Unfortunately, Viper was impulsive, unable to resist gratifying his ego, rather than getting the most bang for his buck with this favor.
The miles stretched out in front of us, making for an enjoyable ride, despite the less enjoyable reason for it. Bikers were made to ride the open road, and our club was no different. The sun slowly sunk in the sky with late morning turning into afternoon. Every mile I rode was a reminder of Winter. I was pushing her too hard. Although it came from a good place of wanting her to get better, I needed to stop now because I was just pissing her off. I knew some things couldn’t be forced. Maybe this was one of them.
As we rode, highways gave way to smaller roads. Traffic thinned. Buildings grew farther apart. Territory shifted, even if there wasn’t a sign announcing it.
Storm and Celt slowed as we approached the meeting point. They’d picked this abandoned sawmill because it was flat, isolated, and out of view of the road. Viper was sitting on his bike grinning like the maniac he was. The place was packed with close to thirty men, all wearing shiny new Stolen Oath MC cuts.
“What the fuck is this,” Storm growled. “A few days ago your club had less than a dozen men. Now, my count says thirty-two.”
Viper preened while sitting on his bike, looking more youthful than ever.
“I patched over the Club Crawlers MC. I figured it was time to go big or go home.”
“Well, I brought forty-one brothers, so we might as well get this show on the road.”
Storm rode slowly past them and Viper pulled up alongside him. The rest of us paired off in the same manner, riding side by side with their club members.
We branched off onto the main road leading straight through town. I steeled myself for what was to come, when I saw the Vulture’s Pride clubhouse. The building sat back from the road behind a wide gravel lot. Their clubhouse looked old and worn. The doors were closed and the lot was empty. I’ve never seen a clubhouse that was a ghost town before. Usually there were at least prospects milling about to make sure no one broke in.
Storm didn’t alter our course. We rode straight past it without slowing down and straight into town. The minute we were within the city limits Viper’s crew started revving their engines, to cause a ruckus. The sound filled the air. It was loud enough that it was drawing people outside to see what all the ruckus was about. Storm shot him a dirty look, but Viper didn’t care. He wanted as much chaos as possible.
I kept my expression blank, stared straight ahead, and tried not to do anything to draw attention to myself. I just wanted to get through this shitshow. Every instinct I had screamed that this wasn’t just optics. Viper was sending a message to Vulture about strength and unity. The old club president didn’t know it was borrowed.
I slowly realized that Viper was keepin’ his word. He wasn’t trying to stop or engage with anyone verbally. But we had to suffer the indignity of being seen riding with them. And that was enough to make me wish the ride were over already.
Just when I thought we were going to scoot through town without an incident, Vulture came strolling out of a diner with about twenty men. Most of them are wearing Vulture’s Pride cuts and they looked pissed.
Viper was the one who broke the silence. “Vulture. How are you today?” He might be saying the right words, but he was smirking all over the place.
Vulture’s angry voice rang out loud and clear.
“What the fuck is this all about? Are you tryin’ to spark a club war, ‘cause if that’s what you want, I’ll sure as hell give it to you.”
Viper’s self-satisfied expression became more serious. “You might wanna think twice about interpreting our motivations as hostile, especially since you’re out manned and out gunned.”
His words hung in the air conveying more menace than we ever agreed to. Viper was intentionally escalating the situation for shits and giggles.
Vulture’s eyes strayed to Storm, his expression morphing into one of genuine disappointment.
“And what about you, Storm. I never thought of us as allies, but we’ve sure as fuck never been enemies. What possessed you to throw your lot in with these assholes?”
