Page 20 of Mile High With the Bikers
“And women can’t be members?” I ask.
“Nah.” Diesel holds up his hand when he sees me open my mouth. “And before you get going, I know you’ve probably got feelings about that, but it is the way it is. There are clubs that have women in their ranks, but they’re usually smaller and less… rough.”
“Don’t forget the Devil’s Crones.” A new biker walks behind the bar. He’s tall, with his head mostly shaved, showing off a red dragon tattoo that snakes its way around his scalp and down his neck. “Those bitches’ll take your balls off if they heard youtalking like they’renice.” The way he says it sounds almost approving.
“Okay, okay. What does all this make me? Aslut?” I can’t help the slight disapproval I put on the word.
“You’re just a guest, angel,” Bull answers. “You’re with us.”
Hearing him say that I’m with them makes me feel a little warm and fuzzy inside, which seems wrong after this conversation, but it’s been rare for me to feel like I really belonged anywhere. This might be just for now, but I can imagine being part of their little team. A secret mile high club just for us that I can remember even when they have long forgotten me.
“And now that it's all cleared up, do you assholes want something to drink or can I go see if Jewel’s awake yet?” Chef growls. “She was out with Emily and Shelby last night, and I swear to fucking God, any time you get three or more old ladies together they’re as bad as any of the men.”
“Anything with caffeine?” I can’t remember the last time I didn’t have coffee when I woke up.
He looks at me like I just insulted his bar, him, and his long line of bartending ancestors, but he opens a fridge under the bar and pulls out a slim silver energy drink. He slams it down on the counter, then pauses. “You need a glass, princess?”
“N—no. I’m good,” I assure him.
I throw a curious glance towards Shrapnel, who shrugs. “Just the way he is. Don’t know why Jewel puts up with him. She’s too sweet for the old bastard.”
“My giant cock,” Chef deadpans without looking up from scrolling on his phone.
I hide my smile by taking a sip. In a way, the back and forth reminds me of my years at boarding school. We didn’t always like each other, but living so close together creates a community that’s closer to family than just friends. I didn’t know I would miss it until my father pulled me out to come live with him. Bull, Shrapnel and Diesel would take bullets for each other if they had to, even if they grumble about little stuff.
Two bikers rush into the common room. One shirtless, his long blond hair tied back and his matching beard knotted into little braids. The other one is one of the twins that was watching the door at the Eagles' Roost. Both of them look ready to tear someone’s head off.
“Mad Dog and Piston are missing,” the blond one growls. “They were supposed to report in by Crown Bridge after their patrol, but they didn't show and no one's answering their damn phones. Thunder and Shadow are out tracing their route.”
A door slams above me, followed by heavy boots on the metal stairs.
The man coming down looks to be in his fifties, maybe early sixties, built like a muscular barrel. His leather biker vest has a patch that reads, “Prez.” His white beard is short, but his thick, bristly mustache makes up for it. He carries himself like someone used to being in charge, but what really makes him stand out is that his one eye is obviously blind, milky white and eerily still. He notices me briefly, like I've just been added to his catalogue, and then he puts his focus on the two guys who just came in. This must be Eagle-eye.
“Viking. Lightning.” His voice is like a steamroller on gravel. “I just got the message. What the fuck's going on?”
If the blond features and braided beard didn't give it away, the bold runic tattoos on his chest and arms make it obvious which one’s Viking. Put a bear pelt on him and a sword in his hand, and I could totally imagine him pillaging the British coast and founding cities in Ireland. He quickly recaps what we just heard.
Eagle-eye takes charge like an army general, without a moment of hesitation. “Gentlemen, put your beers down, get the fuck off your asses. Gather everyone who’s inside the walls. I want a few teams left here in case shit’s about to go down, and everyone else get out there and find our men. Find King and Ripper, they’ll make the call on who stays and who goes.” His eye flits back to me, just for a moment. “Lockdown rules. Sluts are in or out but make your decision now. If someone's fucking with my boys, we're gonna make them regret it. Permanently.”
In back, a couple of barely-dressed girls pop up from behind a couch, rushing to put their shoes on. The bikers that get up right after them are buttoning their pants. There’ve been people in here having sexthis whole time!?
Bull puts a hand on my shoulder and pushes me towards the door. “Hate to cut this short, angel, but you're on your own for breakfast. Shit's going down, and it might get ugly. You need money for a ride? Dunno how far you have to go.”
“What? Um, no, I'm fine. I have money, I just—” I just what? It's not like I have any claim here. Suddenly my vague thoughts about being able to stay feel silly. I have my backpack, so there’s no excuse to stick around. “I'll be fine. Don't worry about me.”
I follow the flow of people out of the clubhouse and into the courtyard. Diesel gives me a quick kiss on the head and murmurs something apologetically. Shrapnel looks at me like he wants to say something, but then winks and jogs to his bike.The courtyard fills, swarming with bikers who mostly ignore my presence, letting me fade into the background. I clutch my backpack to my chest as I watch them coordinate like a military battalion. I see multiple bikers slip guns into their belts, or hidden spots beneath their vests, and I’m sure I’m only seeing a fraction of what they have on them.
I would have to turn on my phone to order a ride, and where would I go? I’m not ready. Oh, God. I’m so not ready to be on my own. Eagle-eye said in or out, right? I'm not one of the sluts, so does that count for me? Would they be mad if I found a corner to sit in while I figure things out?
Nobody stops me as I slip back inside. The common room is completely empty. I plop myself down on one of the couches in the back and take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. My stomach growls.
“Hey! You must be new,” a feminine voice says right behind me, so close I nearly launch across the room.
11
RORY
I whip around,finding a gorgeous woman with dark curly hair, wearing a friendly smile and honestly, not much else. Just an off the shoulder pink tank top that hangs down to her upper thighs. From the amount of side boob showing, it's obvious she's not wearing a bra. I could be wrong, but I think she was one of the ones that popped up from behind the couch.
