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Wicked (Reckless MC Opey Texas Chapter #2)
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She’s so dark and delicious.
I thought coming to Hardtail would change all that. Straighten me up.
Love grumpy bikers who fall in love? Redemption? Or just a hot AF ride on the wild side?
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Gunnar strolled into the bunkhouse and held up the Tulip Gazette, looking like somebody put a bug up his ass.
“Have you guys seen this shit?” he said, scowling at us and acting all pissed off again. The guy had it made in the shade. I rolled my eyes. What now?
“Chili cook-off?” Cruz, the new Road Captain, guessed with a snicker.
“Rummage sale?” Slayer, the new club Treasurer, added but only because of the glare Gunnar sent Cruz.
“No, assholes,” Gunnar sneered. “Some fucker’s robbed the downtown business district at gunpoint again.” Gunnar paused, waiting for anger or outrage or some kind of reaction. I rarely could tell what Gunnar expected outside of The Barn Door.
I laughed at the idea that anything in Opey was a ‘district’ much less a business district. “You mean that piece of land where the courthouse, post office and a few other shops come together?”
“Yeah, I do,” he growled. “It’s six blocks of businesses that sustain this town, including Hardtail Ranch and The Barn Door. Nearly thirty-five businesses exist down there. This is the third armed robbery in as many weeks.”
The room fell silent again.
Apparently, I wasn’t the only one in the bunkhouse who didn’t know what Gunnar wanted.
“No offense man, but how in the hell is this our business?”
Leave it up to Wheeler to say what the rest of us were thinking. Maybe that was what made him a solid choice for club VP.
“This is our business because it is literally our fucking business,” he shot back at the VP with fire in his eyes. “First of all, armed robbery means there’s a crew operating around here and we don’t know who it is. That’s a problem.”
“Why? We’re not even criminals so what difference does it make?” None of it made sense to me, why in the fuck did we need to give a damn about a band of criminals? “I mean, it’s shitty for the businesses that got hit, but how is this a Reckless Bastards problem?” The room fell silent, either because I’d voiced what everyone was thinking or, more likely, I’d stepped in the shit. Again.
Gunnar let out a deep, cleansing breath and raked a hand through his hair that seemed to go from ‘just out of the military’ short to desperately in need of a haircut. “No, Saint, we’re not criminals, but we’re the only ones who know that. What do you think the good folks of Opey think of us, no matter how they smile and chat with us in town?”
Slayer barked out a laugh. “Old Debbie Gallagher at the diner swears I’m up to no good and that’s just because of the long hair.” He punctuated his words by running his fingers through said brown locks.
“That’s just how it goes, but that means we have to be extra diligent about what the fuck goes on in Opey. Any hint of a serious crime and we’ll be the first suspects.” I opened my mouth to object but Gunnar stopped me with an ice cold look. “Most of us are new to town which is already a strike against us in this small ass town, but the fact that we also are Harley enthusiasts is bound to make us a target.”
“Then are we doing it? The club’s official?” At first this whole motorcycle club thing sounded good, even fun. But over the past few weeks Gunnar had been trying to make it a big damn thing and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. “Seriously.”
“Riding’s in my blood, man. This is how it goes. You knew that when you agreed to join. Right?” Wheeler had his back up, shoulders squared so he was at his full six feet four inches of intimidating asshole.
“Well I didn’t realize we’d be targeted as criminals or be responsible for cleaning the town of the criminal underclass!” It was an unusual outburst from me, even I knew that, but this was too much. First, it was just a club, a brotherhood of men with similar backgrounds in search of a place to heal and grow after the military. Then it was shared financial interest, which in all fairness, had been a spectacular perk. Now it was vigilante justice or…some stupid shit like that.
“Is that a problem, Saint?” The way Gunnar said my name, like he was my cold, distant stepfather pissed me off. Made me wonder why the fuck any of this sounded like a good idea to me.
“Hell Gunnar, I don’t know. This is the first I’m hearing of this.” My gaze bounced around the room at the other so-called brothers and of all the expressions I saw, none resembled anything like understanding or solidarity. Mostly blank looks and a few confused ones. “Am I the only one confused about this?”
Holden lifted a hefty, plaid-covered arm in the air. “I must admit Gunnar, I’m a bit confused about this, too. What are you suggesting we do here?”