Page 39 of Thug

“Sell ‘em to someone else,” he said with a wave of his hand. “I’m gonna head out.”

I had no idea who Randall Holderman was or why Brisco was hesitant to tell me the truth, but I intended to find out. In doing so, it was clear I needed to do one thing, and do it well.

I’d have to fly under the Hard Eight’s radar.

12

Price

If something happened between the Hells Angels and the Hard Eights there would be no time for the Bandidos—a known Hells Angel rival—to arrive and “save the day” for the Hard Eights.

News of the Bandidos supporting the Hard Eights, however, would reach the Hells Angels within days. Information—the good and the bad—traveled through the world of one-percenter motorcycle clubs like gossip through a high school. Hopefully, knowledge of the ‘Eights and Bandidos being allies would squelch any ideas the Angels had of intervening with our club.

Furthermore, the Bandidos accepting us as an ally would be a huge factor in our club’s future growth. The Bandidos were thousands strong and spread throughout 33 countries. Their presence was feared by anyone with an ounce of common sense. Knowing the Bandidos would raise their clenched fists in a time of trouble would provide any future Hard Eights prospect with a sense of comfort.

I rode directly to the bar from the airport. Although it was late, the parking lot was still peppered with Harley-Davidson’s finest creations. I was surprised to see Carp and Brisco’s bikes missing.

I pushed open the bar’s door and peered inside. I was immediately met by the sound of Mountain’s Mississippi Queen and twenty sets of curious eyes.

Instead of being asked—and answering—the same question twenty times, I gave a “thumbs up” as I entered. Brisk nods, the raising of beer glasses, and a handful of grins confirmed the men’s support of the collaboration between the two outlaw clubs.

Gray was standing beside Panzer’s table, having a conversation with him and his prospect. Wearing her usual outfit of jean shorts and a tee shirt, she seemed content with the conversation they were having. I sauntered toward them, studying Gray’s athletic legs the entire way.

When Panzer finished speaking, Gray glanced up. We made eye contact, sharing a look that lasted a nice long while. She was an incredibly beautiful woman, but it was her willingness to express her opinion that made her irresistible.

I’d met hordes of women over the years, all of whom were afraid to express who they truly were. Responses of I don’t know or I don’t care were as common as the club-related questions they all seemed to expect me to answer. In the end, I was left feeling I was sharing my time with someone who was unwilling to be truthful. If a woman couldn’t be honest about who she was, how could she be honest with me about anything else?

I stepped to Gray’s side. “Can I get a bottle of Bud?”

“Follow me.” She said, giving me a quick look before she turned around. “I need to ask you something, anyway.”

She ducked behind the bar and got a bottle of beer out of the cooler. She tossed the lid aside and handed it to me. “Do you want to fuck me?”

If she was nothing else, she was blunt. I laughed to myself at the question. “If I wanted to fuck you, you’d know it.”

Her brows raised. “How’s that?”

“Because you’d be full of my dick.”

“I keep forgetting,” she said, twisting her hips in mock innocence. “If you wanted this pussy, you’d just take it.”

I took a drink of my beer. “That’s right.”

She pressed the tips of her fingers against her cheek and batted her eyes. “You’re so charming.”

“I’m not trying to be.”

“I can tell.”

“Your ass looks killer in those shorts.” I nodded toward her perfect little ass. “How’s that for charming?”

She shrugged. “Not bad.”

I gave her a quick once-over. I wasn’t much of a lip guy, but hers were full and amazingly sexy. “Your lips are perfect for sucking cock, too.”

“Holy shit,” she said. “You are a charmer.”

“It comes naturally.” I took another drink. “What was your question?”