Page 108 of Nuts

“Attend.” I chuckled. “You mean ride?”

“Yeah. How many people ride.”

I turned toward the driveway and shrugged. “At this one? Probably 2,500.”

“Holy cow. That’s crazy.”

“The five will be all but shut down. Cops will be there to direct traffic. It’ll be bikes from Oceanside to Irvine.”

“That’s 100 miles.”

“You’ll just have to see it.” I motioned toward the bike. “Now. Stop yapping and get on.”

She got on the bike, pulled on her helmet, and cinched the strap. “Ready to ride, Boss.”

Many of the fellas took random woman on the poker runs with them. In hope of getting laid, they’d take some skank from the bar, an old friend, or some chick they met at the 7-Eleven on the way to the run.

I’d never taken a woman on a poker run. My doing so now would undoubtedly raise eyebrows.

When asked, I’d answer the questions proudly.

She’s my Ol’ Lady.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Joey

We exited the main street, and turned down a two-lane side road. On our left, dozens of motorcycles were parked in front of a metal building that resembled a warehouse or manufacturing building. In the center of the roof’s gable, four simple letters gave hint as to who lurked behind the building’s walls.

FFMC

My heart raced.

“Hold on,” he said. “Tight!”

I gripped his waist firm in my hands.

He twisted the throttle, pinning me against the backrest. We shot down the empty street, directly toward the entrance to the building. Our speed increased to what I guessed to be 60 miles an hour.

There was no way we could make the turn.

Holy crap!

He pressed the rear brake pedal, sending us into a tailspin. We slid past the entrance, spun around 180-degrees, and then he hit the throttle again. As if it were something he’d done a thousand times, he shot into the lot and came to a stop.

A man leaning against the edge of the open garage door crossed his arms in front of his chest. Tattooed from head to toe, including his neck and lower jaw, the man looked mean.

And angry.

His eyes thinned. “God damn it, ‘Nut. You’re going to fucking kill someone.”

I let out a sigh and glanced at him. His vest said it all.

President.

Crip.

I removed my helmet, got off the bike, and laid it on the rear seat.