Page 88 of Praying for Thunder

Chubs read his cell phone that had just pinged. “Cinderella, duties call.”

“Ugh,” I complained, instantly realizing who I sounded like.

Roam smirked. “By the look on your face, that tasted like shit.”

“I may puke yet.”

Chubs ruffled my wind-blown hair. “As soon as you’re done, we’ll go get ya more junk food.”

Them letting me feel younger for a few moments had me thinking of someone ever younger. I pulled out my phone and texted:

Me: All good?

Rya: You check on me more than daddy

Me: How’s the movie

Rya: Better if I could watch it

Me: Lol love you

Rya: everlasting

“Damn that girl owns you.”

“Huh?” I looked at Roam.

He gestured to my chest. The one I was holding.

Peering down, I smiled. “Yeah. She sure does.”

By the time we returned to the campsite, Titans were already deep into some beers and loosening up. I was finishing my Prospect duties, setting up my umpteenth tent, when I heard a rumble of bikes that was so loud even the band stopped to take notice.

In the sand, trails of tire tracks had been made by other bikes, including ours, but they couldn’t compare to the overload of wheels now entering the event. Hundreds. I’m talking hundreds of bikes were rolling in like an army of steel.

Whoever these men were, they were no strangers to other clubs.

A smaller club not too far from us had a biker saying, “Lynx, he’s a hell of a leader, just like his Pops was.”

I looked over to Onus, wondering what other clubs think of him. Piercer was by his side, arms crossed. Neither of them appeared impressed by the arrival, although slightly bitter.

Lynx, leading his men, was front and center, his chin high as if offering no apologies for being a complete badass President. The woman on the back of his bike smiled at a few people she recognized but seemed to carry much respect for her place. She didn’t wave and yell, “Baby, I got snacks!” She was poised and regal. This was the first Old Lady that I had seen who owned her title with immense pride. There was no, “Check this out, bitches!” She was with grace, even though the man between her thighs was heavily loaded with weapons of all sorts.

In the midst of my appreciation, I felt such chills, I was forced to find the source of what was paralyzing me.

It was Onus. Watching me. From over by the fire.

It felt as if he was reading my thoughts, which were that he hadn’t officially claimed the woman that rode in on his bike. She was a prop. A fake mom to cover his lies—

Lies…

If I had felt I belonged at this event, as a truth-seeker like others, what was Onus’ truth?

I broke into a cold sweat when I couldn’t come up with an iota of one.

Eyes locked with Onus; it was like staring back at a complete stranger. Had I been a fool to trust him in the slightest? My gut turning spoke of how that was a real possibility. Now I wondered how much I had missed. Being so occupied with Rya, while lost in survival mode, what games had been played behind my back, or even right in front of my face?

A pull I couldn’t explain had my eyes going back to the army of bikes rolling by. That’s when I noticed their cut symbols. It was the horse with the main blowing in the wind. The club’s name above it read Steel Stallions.