Page 37 of After the Chase

“Why are you upset?”

“Because I feel like a child who is being sent off while you play with the adults.”

“I’m not playing with anyone.”

“I don’t mean literally, it’s just…you never leave me,” I say and groan when I realize how whiney I sound.

“Are you sulking?” he asks, with his head tilted to the side with a smirk on his face.

“Fuck off,” I say as I sit back down, wanting the chair to swallow me whole.

He walks over to me and grabs my chin, forcing me to look up at him.

“I’m never leaving you. This is to protect you and you’re safer with those assholes, it will keep me focused on what I need to do. This will be the last time, then you can have all of the attention in the world.”

“It’s dangerous to go there on your own.”

He shrugs and pulls my lower lip down with his thumb.

“No such thing as danger. I hold the cards here. Now get ready as we leave in ten minutes.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

NOAH

The clubhouse sits on an empty road on the way to who knows where. The building itself is unremarkable, two stories, brick, windows covered with bars. But the motorcycles lined up outside tell a different story. Chrome gleaming under streetlights, each one worth more than most people make in a year.

I pay the taxi guy enough to keep him here for an hour as this won’t take long. As I approach the open gate, two men stand outside in leather vests, patches indicating rank and affiliation. One of them steps forward as we get close.

"Noah Bryson, I think Marcus would like to see me."

Both of the guys look at each other, recognition of my name on their faces, the larger of the two, a bald headed guy, makes a call on his phone, announcing my arrival no doubt to Marcus. As soon as he ends the call, he nods at me.

"Follow me."

Inside, the clubhouse smells like gasoline, old leather, and stale beer. The main room is large with a pool table in one corner, bar along the back wall, mismatched furniture scattered throughout. The walls are covered with patches, photographs,memorabilia from decades of criminal history. This isn't a social club, it’s a fortress.

Men watch us as we walk through, some nod and others just stare. All of them have questions, deciding if I’m a threat. I’m led to a back office that’s more private. A large wooden table dominates the center. Behind it sits Marcus, and I have to give it to him, he controls his facial expressions well without giving too much away.

Another guy stands against the wall, and I recognize him as Ethan, Marcus’ friend and owner of the Infinity Hotels. I did a little research on him before I met Marcus there. He watches me with dark eyes that hold a familiar distance, an unattached manner. He looks out of place here in an open blue shirt with navy pants, a belt and black leather shoes that have been shined to within an inch of their life.

Marcus stands as I enter. "Noah. Good to see you again. This is my friend, Ethan."

"Marcus." I shake his hand. "Ethan." Ethan nods but doesn't speak.

Marcus points to the chair where I sit, as Marcus sits behind his desk facing me.

"So, this is a surprise visit, you came on your own?" Marcus asks.

"Yes."

"Interesting, I would have expected you to turn up with one of the Kozlov guys."

“Why? I’m not part of them.”

“As I said before, you got balls, Noah. I take it you’ve made a decision?”

"I'll continue my father's funding. Everything will remain the same, but I want something in return."