Page 75 of Marcus: Sins of the Father

“Could be your wiring or ignition coil,” Crash muses.

“Bingo,” Shane murmurs on the last plug. “This one’s bad.”

Twenty minutes of tinkering, and they figure out he’s also got a clogged air filter.

“Well, looks like I’m going to the parts store. You comin’?” he asks Crash.

“Yeah, I could go for a ride.”

“Hey, do you guys mind if I tag along? I want to change my oil, and I need to pick up a new filter,” I ask.

“The more the merrier,” Crash calls over his shoulder.

We head toward Shane’s truck.

Billy pulls in to take over, watching the clubhouse, and Shane pauses.

“Change of plans, boys. Let’s ride.” Shane lifts his chin to Billy and holds out his hand. “Gimme your keys.”

“What?” Billy asks, but already passing them over like an obedient prospect.

“I’m taking your bike to go grab a part for mine.”

“O-kay,” Billy replies, though I can tell he is not okay with this at all. Even so, he knows better than to refuse a brother.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t want to take that beast of a truck either. Must cost a small fortune driving it. How many miles per gallon does that thing get you?” Crash lifts his chin toward Shane’s truck.

“Enough to get to your mama’s house,” Shane bites back with a grin as he straps on his helmet.

***

We make quick work of getting our items, and they’re tucked away in our saddle bags as we ride back, Crash and Shane in the lead.

When we turn in the industrial park, flashing red and blue lights greet us. We start to slow and move to the outside lane to pass, when we notice it’s not a car pulled over, but a Harley. Crash signals for us to pull behind the squad car. We come to a stop and see the rider face down in the gravel on the shoulder with a fat fuck of a cop pushing him into the ground. The rider turns his head at the rumbling of our bikes. It’s TJ.

Holy fuck.

“We got a problem here?” Crash calls, not moving off his bike.

The cop shifts to keep us in his line of view. “This doesn’t concern you boys. Be on your way.”

I can tell our presence unnerves him. After all, he’s outnumbered four to one.

“You got one of our prospects on the ground, so I’d disagree. Why’d you stop him?” Crash rests one hand casually on his handlebars and the other on his knee. Y ears of being around these men have taught me this is a facade hiding the dangerous threat he really poses to this officer.

“I didn’t do shit,” TJ grinds out.

The officer seems to be weighing his odds. His radio goes off with another call, and he uses it as an excuse to back out of this situation. He dips his head. “Unit 54 responding.” Apparently, he’s decided he’s not willing to risk tangling with the Dead. Smartest decision he’s made all week. Though judging by the purple stain down the front of his uniform, he probably thinks the jelly filled donut he picked up at the quick stop was a pretty good decision, too.

He pushes off TJ and stands. “You boys better stay out of trouble, ‘cause we’re watching.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Shane snaps.

But the officer ignores him, scrambling into his car and hightailing it down the road.

Crash climbs from his bike and helps TJ to his feet. “You good?”

TJ brushes the dust off his jeans in angry movements. “Yeah, fucker pulled me over for no goddamn reason, and then had me step away from my bike. As soon as I did, the son-of-a-bitch threw me to the ground.”

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