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Locked (Reckless MC Opey Texas Chapter #3)
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As a member of Reckless MC, I command respect.
The girl who shattered my heart in high school just walked back into my life.
Now she’s in trouble and staying at Hardtail Ranch.
Love broken hearted bikers who don’t want to fall in love? Or just a hot AF ride on the wild side?
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Not this shit again.
That was the main thought running through my mind as the Reckless Bastards gathered inside the Sin Room for another MC church. Another robbery in Opey? We just kicked the ass of those last motherfuckers who tore up the town. I signed on here as a rancher, not a goddamn crime buster.
And why the hell did they call it church? I didn’t see any crosses in here. So, it didn’t take a damn genius to figure out what had Gunnar’s blood pressure on the rise. A slow stroll through Opey proper and you’d figure it out. Hell, a stop for coffee, screws, or an ice-cold beer would get you all the information you needed about the crime spree in town.
Another goddamn crime spree.
At least the latest attack on good citizens of our town hadn’t involved any violence. Yet.
Which brought us to the reason for the current church meeting. What the fuck were we going to do about it this time?
Gunnar strode to the head of the table and sent his dark scowl around the room.
“Is everyone present and accounted for?”
I felt sorry for any Reckless Bastard who might’ve decided to skip this early morning meeting.
“Everyone’s here,” Wheeler, the club’s VP said with a sleepy groan. “Church called to order,” he mumbled, eyes barely open, probably from a late night with some hot chick.
Gunnar nodded, his gaze settled on each and every one of us just to make sure he had our undivided attention. He did.
“This shit has got to stop,” he said. “Some fuckers thinking Opey’s their own personal ATM and they can come in here for a withdrawal any time they want.”
“Fuck,” Cruz said. “Who is this time?”
“B&B,” was all Gunnar said. It was all he needed to say. A chorus of curses went up so loud an outsider might have mistaken our meeting for an actual church service.
“Not our twins,” Saint snort-laughed.
The beloved but raunchy aging twin sisters ran a bed and breakfast in town. Not to be confused with the young, bitter, tight-ass twins belonging to Martha, our cook, housekeeper, and overall mother superior of our bedraggled troop of misfits. How those two witches came from that woman was one of the great mysteries of the universe. However, our favorite twins, the Monroe sisters, were our concern this morning.
“What are going to do about it?” Saint asked, still wired from last night’s shift at the bar.
“Probably shouldn’t have left blondie alive,” Cruz added with more than a little bit of annoyance. He’d been the one tasked with watching the kid Slayer and Saint brought back from the bar downtown. Slayer actually took out his brother, but Gunnar decided to let the fuckwad go free to send word that Opey belonged to us. Was protected by the Reckless Bastards.
“Probably not, but the shit is done, and we have a different problem now,” he shot back, rightly pissed off and knowing Cruz was right. “Nobody’s been hurt. Yet. But we all know that shit is just a matter of time.”
“You sure this time it’s a different problem?” asked Cruz, close to belligerent right now. “Not the same assholes back for another round?”
A quick look around the room proved more of the club was with him than not.
I stood slowly, unfolding my big body from the large table that somehow was still too fucking small for me. I stared at Gunnar.
“We can’t know for sure if this is new shit or the same shit,” I told him. I agreed with Cruz. We should have offed that blond motherfucker when we had the chance. But as the Prez, it was Gunnar’s call to make, which meant he was right, we’d have to deal with the most pressing problem. Who broke into the Monroe’s?
Gunnar answered. “Until we have proof it’s related to the old shit and the same club is behind it, I say we treat it like new shit.”
Saint groaned, and Slayer joined in. “Does this mean more late nights driving around Opey keeping an eye out for bad guys?”
The room erupted in nervous laughter at the prospect of cruising around the world’s most boring small town late at night. You couldn’t find a burger or even a half-decent cup of coffee past midnight.
Unless you went to our club, The Barn Door, available by invitation and membership only.
Gunnar nodded and raked a hand over his short crop of hair. “Yeah. It does. We need to catch these fuckers, at least one, if for no other reason than to identify them. Once we know where the threat is coming from, we’ll be ready to end it.”
Wheeler stood and said what we were all thinking. “Are a bunch of petty burglaries really worth our time? Or our wrath?”
The MC had already been through too much shit since its formation, and though Gunnar was confident in our abilities, we had more shit to think about now. It wasn’t just us, just a bunch of beaten and battered vets looking for a place to belong in this fucked up world. No, now it was families as well.