Page 107 of Paladin's Hell

Chapter 34

Paladin

“Spi… Shooter.”

Having received a man hug and a slap on my back, Shooter steps back and touches his fist to mine. “Hey, asshole. You ain’t been gone long enough not to be able to remember my fuckin’ handle.”

Yeah, I shouldn’t have forgotten. It’s been nearly three years since he lost the name Spider, not that he was that lanky lad anymore. He’s muscled up a lot. Still the same in many ways since we prospected together, still that twinkle in his eye. You form a bond when you enter the club more or less at the same time, working all the shit jobs, trying not to complain in earshot of the members, but laying it on the one who’d understand. Hank had been our third prospect back in those days. Hank had ended up being the first to patch in, unfortunately posthumously as he had died protecting Sophie. Luckily Spider had kept her safe too, survived and patched in and had been given a new handle due to his sharp-shooting skills.

“I’m glad you’re here, Brother.” I tell him earnestly, waiting while he gets his saddlebags and shit off his bike. “Want to come inside and get a drink?”

He pretends his tongue’s hanging out, I punch his arm. Fuck, I’ve missed someone I can just relax with. Apart from when I’m with Jayden, my guard has constantly been up since I came here.

As soon as we go inside, Jay comes running over, throwing her arms around Shooter. I stand back grinning, not in the slightest bit jealous of my brother. Tucson brothers all know where I stand. When she steps back, it’s natural for me to put my arm around her, pulling her into my side.

Shooter grins knowingly. “Didn’t think it would take you long, Brother.”

Jay speaks up fast. “Let us tell Slick and El, okay?”

He makes a motion of zipping his lips. “Your secret to tell.” He whistles. “Wouldn’t want to be in your shoes, Paladin.”

There may be some benefits to being in Colorado.

He follows me to the bar, Runt, with one hand in a sling, and a slightly wary look in his eyes, hands us two beers and a can of soda.

“Shooter, isn’t it?” Demon holds out his hand.

“This is Demon, the VP.” That starts a round of introductions, queries as to Shooter’s ride, and how he found the journey. It’s a while before we can get a moment to ourselves. Then it’s Jay wanting to know how all the babies are doing.

When at last she’s satisfied, Shooter catches my eye. “Can I dump my shit in your room, Brother?”

Jay gives me a knowing look. “I’ll give you some time to yourselves.”

Shooter follows me upstairs. Inside what counts for my home here in Pueblo, I quickly pull the comforter and sheets over the bed and straighten them up. Guess neither Jay nor I are the domesticated types. He ignores me tidying, just waits patiently until there’s somewhere to sit.

Leaning over he picks up something from the bedside table, looks at it and snorts. “Really?”

I snatch the chocolate flavoured condoms out of his hand and shove them into the drawer.

He grins, then tells me without preamble. “Mouse got you an address. I’ll text it to you.”

I close my eyes. “Thanks.”

“You sure about this?”

“I’m not sure at all.” He’s sitting, I stand. Pacing the room. “Apart from the people who work there, only a couple of men knew about the parts that had been delivered.”

“Custom parts for a ninety-nine Dyna Super Glide,” Shooter confirms.

“Yeah. Only about three hundred dollars’ worth, if that. But they’d had to be ordered in. Brass foot pegs and passenger pegs, grips, solid brass gas cap with Fuel Hole written on it, and matching oil cap. Oh, and brass throttle holding.”

“Nice, if you’re flashy like that.”

I stop my pacing. “What d’you reckon they’d be worth second hand?”

“Possibly two-thirds if they’re sold as new. Not a lot to risk getting caught by the Satan’s Devils.”

“And a Satan’s Devil wouldn’t be able to put that shit on their own bike.”

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