Fucking pigs on wheels.
When the last of the bikers are past me, I head for the far side of the street but my path is cut off as they start to ride a circle around me, cutting off any hope of escape. I turn to backtrack to my store, but another bike swoops in, cutting off my last chance at a quick exit.
My chest clenches, and the fear of my teenage years grips my muscles.
Inhale.
Exhale.
This is not the same. I’m not a kid needing to fight off trashy men looking to rape a girl.
The president of the Harlon’s rival MC gang swerves and stops an inch from where I stand. He’s so close I can see the tobacco stains on his shirt. My nostrils will carry the stench of his sweat for hours. I back up but yelp when his buddy revs his motor from behind.
The Vultures are a gang of assholes from the next parish over. Péril, Louisiana is about as welcoming as it sounds. No one ventures over there unless they want trouble. And now trouble is coming to find me. Again. While I don't have to fear my step-father wanting to use me to push his drugs, the Vultures have no problem wanting to use my bookstore to do the same.
That’s why it’s surprising to see them pushing their luck. Charli has filled me in on the unspoken local rules. At the top of that list is no Vultures in Harlon without permission from the Savage Reign crew.
“Go the hell away, Grayson.” I shoot daggers his way and force bravado into my spine and act like I’m not trembling on theinside. I try to keep walking but my attempt at getting away is short-lived. I stumble back and lose my step when one of his goons tries to use my foot as a speed bump.
Gurgling acid bubbles in my stomach. Worse yet, it hits my tongue just saying the asshole’s name.
I cast around to see if anyone is watching, but there’s not a soul in sight.
Shit.
Grayson “Grudge” Caine is the epitome of what his name implies. I know I have a personal problem with motorcycle gangs and hey, that’s on me. Sure. I accept that. But in the case of assface with the stained wife beater and dirt-covered jeans revving his Harley I’m right on the money. And I’m not alone. He thrives on the fear his club instills and likes to get his hands dirty as often as he can. From what Charli has shared, he came up during all the early-2000s rivalry with the older members of the Savage Reign crew and takes his hatred of the Harlon’s gang seriously.
But to me, all biker gangs are the same no matter how hard Charli professes the Savage Reign crew is different.
And isn’t that a helluva thing to realize right now?
“You give any thought to my proposal, fresh meat?”
My gut churns at Grayson’s nickname for me. “Go to hell!” I pair my harsh words with a slash of my hand and firm, “Never happening!”
Inside, my heart lurches and thumps wildly in contrast to my brave words. I grab for the mace in my bag, but the slicklayer of sweat coating my palms makes gripping anything nearly impossible.
They continue riding in a circle around me. One step forward and I’ll be riding bitch or one step back and I’d be road kill under the wheel of another.
I can’t see past the cuts of the Vultures but I can hear the rumble of louder motors coming from the north.
Maybe I won’t die today after all. They’ll get busy fighting each other and I can slink away unseen. As plans go, it’s as good as they get on the fly.
I whirl and sure enough. Over Grudge’s shoulder, the Savage Reign crew pour into the parish’s main street.
Instead of feeling safe though, my gut clenches, and my knees turn to noodles. What if they start shooting? I have nothing to protect me and my baby. I’m out in the open, surrounded by one MC while another rides up, murder in their eyes.
Oh shit.
Could tonight get any worse?
I left upstate New York to get away from my stepdad’s gang. No way did I mean to land right smack in the middle of a town with two others.
Apparently, my new hometown doesn’t think like I do. But in my defense, no one from Harlon grew up looking over their shoulder wondering when the rough gang their stepdad led would roll up looking to harass everyone in their way. He and his motley crew of criminals ran guns, dealt drugs, and trafficked people. Anything that would put green in their pockets.
Just like the Vultures. And no doubt the Savage Reign.
I shudder with disgust. What the hell was I thinking?