Page 74 of Marcus: Sins of the Father

“You okay?” I ask, treading carefully into what feels like a trap.

“When were you going to tell me?” she snaps.

“Tell you what?” My mind races, searching for what the hell she could be talking about.

Her hands hit her hips, and her eyes burn like lasers into mine. “About you and Holt planning to beat the shit out of each other.”

My head drops back, and I exhale. Damn those girls.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN – TROUBLE BREWING

Marcus—

Brandy was pissed to learn about the fight, but I made it up to her—several times. She was sleeping soundly when I left her this morning. It was difficult to walk away when everything about her called out to me to climb back into the bed and pull her sexy body into my arms. But club duties were calling, too, and the club has to come first.

I lean against the bar, watching the flat screen on the wall. Either crime is going up in this town or the news is focusing on it more lately. Carjacking on Fourth Street, armed robbery on Emory, a truck full of immigrant women found at a gas station on West Avenue, homicide in the research district… I switch it off, tired of listening to it all.

The clubhouse has been quiet all morning, and I grow bored just sitting around. I decide to stretch my legs and walk to the gate to slide it open for the brothers who I know will start to straggle in now that it’s early afternoon.

Shane is the first to arrive. As I head into the clubhouse, I see him pull in, driving his big, black crew-cab, his Harley shining in the truck bed. It’s been giving him trouble all week. He must be planning to pull it apart and figure out the problem. Not long after he parks, he pops his head in the door. Scanning the room, he spots me.

“Prospect. Come here and give me a hand.”

“Yes, sir.” I follow him out and hop up in the bed to help him undo the straps. “Still givin’ you trouble?”

Shane drops the tailgate, pulls a ramp out of the bed, and drops it into place. “Yeah, keeps misfiring. I’m going to pull a few things and see what she tells me.”

I finish with the last strap, and Shane climbs up, throws his leg over the seat, and carefully backs the bike down the ramp.

The low rumble of a bike vibrates off the brick building. We turn to see Crash ride through the gates.

He pulls in next to us and dismounts. “What are you doing here so early?”

Shane nods to his Harley. “Bike’s messed up. Gonna take a look at it.”

“Need a hand?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

Shane rolls the bike into the garage, and we follow.

“Well, you know what they say. Always check the plugs first,” Crash advises.

Shane nods. “Yep. Planned to.”

“How’s everything with Brianna and Danielle?” Crash asks as they get the bike up on a lift.

“Terrifying. Danielle has become quite a pistol, and Brianna does not take shit. So, it’s like constantly walking on eggshells.”

“Or through a minefield.”

Shades flips a bucket over next to his bike and sits on it. “Yeah, I mean, how’d she go from a little girl who thought I hung the moon to split personalities? Every time I see her, I don’t know if I’m getting Bruce Banner or the Hulk.”

Crash chuckles. “I remember Harley being like that. I asked her if she was going to put on a jacket one time, and she went nuclear. Must be puberty. Cole says his boys were just as bad, but I don’t believe it.”

Shane pulls the rubber boot off and pulls the plugs out one at a time, checking them.

On the first couple, we don’t see any buildup, discoloration, or corrosion that would mark them as bad.

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