Page 1 of Klutch's Kryptonite

Chapter One

Klutch

“Is this for real?” I glance over at Yukon who’s being uncharacteristically quiet and see the big bad enforcer’s mouth is hanging open.

I look back at the massive red brick building we’re moving into today and… Yeah. Mouth hanging wide open is an appropriate response because seriously. This place is not at all what I was expecting. “It’s fucking huge.”

“That’s what she said,” Yukon deadpans, making Beast snort.

Turning my head in their direction, I chuckle. “I walked right into that one.”

Yukon nods, eyes still trained on the clubhouse. “Right into it.”

“Yep,” Beast agrees.

Assholes.

Shaking my head, I look back to the building, then across the parking lot. This place really is amazing.

Not only is this massive warehouse going to be our new home but it also sits on a few acres of land that span out behind the building. There’s room to grow which isn’t something we’re used to.

The Saints were not fucking around when they said they take care of their family. Which is what we are now since we patched in.

Beast whistles low. “I can’t believe they bought this place for us.”

“Yeah, brother. Me either,” I admit, unable to keep the awe from my voice.

“Check that out.” I motion to the brand new hand painted sign that reads Bastard Saints MC hanging above the entrance. The logo of a skull wearing a blood-red crown with crossbones behind it sits proudly in the center.

Fuck yeah.

The Bastard Saints MC. A mix of pride and sadness fill my chest. Pride for how far we’ve come in such a short time and sadness at the family we lost when we walked away from the Renegade Bastards.

Pee Wee’s massive Ford dually coming through the iron gates pulls me from my thoughts. I turn and watch the VP’s reaction as he cuts the engine.

Not that he hasn’t already seen the property. He’s been here several times in the last couple of weeks working things out with the Saints, but I don’t think he’s seen the sign yet since he never mentioned how badass it was.

His door swings open and he hauls himself out of the driver’s seat. With a thud his heavy boots hit the pavement. The big man’s road name might be Pee Wee but at six feet four and two hundred and sixty pounds, he’s a goddamn monster.

“Fuck yeah!” He slams the truck door shut behind him. “That motherfucker is mint.”

Denali climbs off his Harley and nods. “The Saints really hooked it up.”

“Fuck yeah they did,” Pee Wee shoots back, eyes darting back and forth between the Prez and our new home.

Coming up behind me, my father claps me on the shoulder. “What do you think, mijo?”

What do I think? I spin around, taking in the sprawling property surrounded by the security fence topped with razor wire. “I think it’s nicer than anything we’ve ever had before. I think the Saints didn’t fuck around.”

“No,” he agrees, his eyes twinkling with satisfaction. “They did not.”

Denali nods toward the entrance. “Shall we?”

A chorus of ‘hell yeah’ is his answer.

Like kids ready to see what Santa brought us on Christmas morning, we follow behind him.

Denali steps in front of a high tech keypad and punches in a code. The lock disengages with a solid click. When he pushes the door open, my jaw nearly hits the floor.

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