The Rising Sons Motorcycle Club (4 page)

“Gentlemen, why don’t you help this sorry motherfucker out of the Bandoleros?” Raven smiled and looked behind her. Gunner and Vegas lifted themselves from the stools where they watched the action unfold. Vegas was a little drunk, his sway evident when he headed toward the man. It didn’t stop the adrenaline from pulling him into the action, though.

Raven moved back from the beaten biker as her soon-to-be brothers picked him up by the arms and dragged him to the door. His limp feet hung down as they threw him out. Earl caught his breath, yelling back inside, “This ain’t over, bitch! There’ll be hell to pay.”

Mad Dawg slammed the door shut before turning back to the crowd. “There ain't nothing to see here. Back to your drinkin’ and carryin’ on.”

Raven lucked out, and the rest of the night was far less eventful. At just past three in the morning, there were only two people left: her and Gunner.

She was wiping down the sticky bar one last time when he came from the back office. The club enforcer dropped down onto one of the stools, letting out a long sigh. Raven gave her own sigh, albeit a silent one. She grabbed for one of the freshly cleaned mugs to pour Gunner a beer.
 
She was too tired to get into any shit with him in that moment.
 
He loved to get into it with her.

He waved her off. “Nah, I gotcha covered.” The muscular biker reached forward and pulled a can of beer up from below the bar. He cracked it open and sucked the foam off the top.

Raven let out a quiet laugh. “Thanks, you just saved me a whole minute of work.”

He laughed and took a long pull from the frosty can. When he was finished, Gunner let out a long, refreshed groan.

Raven watched him as she wiped the bar down. He looked tired.
Whatever he did in the military has aged him
, she mused.

Gunner looked far beyond his years. The facial hair was a major factor, but Raven could see worry in the biker’s eyes. From what she had caught in whispers around the club, he had been into some dark missions in the Middle East, and she figured it wasn’t sitting well with him.
 
There were hints of humanity inside of him from time to time.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the vibration of her phone.

She pulled it out, already knowing who the sender was.
You dead or what? I’m off in fifteen, want to hang?

Allan’s first text had drifted from her mind when she’d heard the fight, but now she had time to respond. There wasn’t much cleanup left, and by the time she was ready to have Gunner lock up, Allan would be getting off-shift. He was being pushier than usual, but she also hadn’t responded and he was probably legitimately worried.

Raven and Allan had an interesting relationship. “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” was the name of the game. She was an outlaw biker tattoo artist and he was a cop on track to be detective one day. Allan was well aware of the Rising Sons, and he could pull up a rap sheet on more than half of them. They often ignored each other’s chosen profession. They rarely talked about work, anyway.
 

He’d had the hots for her since high school, and she couldn’t ever seem to get him to understand that she wasn’t interested. Even though she wasn’t interested, she liked Allan well enough, and Raven thought having a cop that would do just about anything for her couldn’t hurt

She decided she could use a distraction from the sore shoulder she had plowed into the piece of shit earlier that night. She texted back:
Perfect timing. I’ll come over 2 hang.

Gunner’s words startled her. “You did good tonight, kid.”

Without looking up from her phone, she answered, “Don’t call me kid.” She knew he was giving her a compliment, but he was being an asshole about it, as usual. She had to make it clear that she wouldn’t tolerate being treated as a second-class citizen, especially once she was a full member.
 
The hatred between them was something that they both cultivated.
 
Neither gave the other an inch.

“You did good tonight,
cunt
.” he said dryly. Raven looked up, staring straight through him. He smiled and shrugged. “Now ‘kid’ doesn’t sound so bad, does it?”

She shoved her phone back into her tight jeans and got back to cleaning the bar. Every time she thought she had Gunner figured out, he pissed her off and threw her for a loop. She’d rather deal with Trask. At least he made his dislike for her clear. She shook it off.
Best to just ignore him.

He leaned forward, sliding his beer to one side. “Hey, I’m not picking on you, but you do need to lighten up a bit. I mean, shit. This club you want to be a part of so bad? It’s full of assholes. Assholes stink; that’s a fact.”

Raven turned away, not wanting to give Gunner the satisfaction of her smile. He knew it was there regardless. “You gotta have a tough skin. I know you do when it comes to kicking ass. That’s painfully clear. But if you're gonna stick around here, you gotta let some shit slide, especially from the Sons.”

“I know I do. Tanner tells me the same thing all the time.” The frustration was rising in her voice. She was telling the truth. Her brother had warned her as soon as he found out little sis wanted to be an outlaw. She’d listened. She might not have
heard
, but she’d listened.

Gunner nodded. His beer was empty, and he twisted the can in his hand, flattening it with ease. He tossed it into an open garbage can near the kitchen door.
 

“That’s a fresh bag, you know.” She jerked her head in the direction of the can.

Trask shook his head and laughed. “See? That’s what I mean.” He looked around as if the walls had ears. Then he leaned in, Raven mimicking. “Want to know a secret? Who gives a flying fuck? If your endgame is to spit shine this place, I got news for you: it ain't gonna happen. You can mop that floor down all you want. The blood you spilled might clean off, but the memory ain't gonna just wash away.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do.”

“Then enlighten me.”

Raven threw the bar rag into the empty sink and put a hand on either side of it. “I have to work twice as hard. I have to
try
twice as hard. Andy and Pitt are in. We all joined up at the same time, but they are in. I’m smarter, faster, and stronger than both of them, but they’re in. I know I have to prove myself to each and every one of you. This ain’t the
Rising Daughters
. I’ve heard that one before, you know. All the old-timers are deaf—I hear half the things they’re whispering.”

Gunner knew he wasn’t going to help the situation, but he wasn’t going to lie. “They’re not deaf, and they
know
you can hear them.”

“What-the-fuck-ever. No one wants me here.” Raven felt sadness creeping inside of her voice, and she quelled it with anger right away. “Fuck this place.”

Gunner kicked the rail to get her attention, the metallic ring reverberating in the empty bar. When Raven was staring at him, he said, “That’s just plain not true. Sure, the oldies ain't cool with change. Maybe even some of the newer cats. That doesn’t mean you ain't valuable. You can fight. That’s plain as day, but the important thing is that you're smart. We don’t have alot of smart running around here.”

Raven smiled.
We don't have alot of compliments running around here, either,
she thought.
 
Especially from Gunner.

“We
always
need smart people. People who know enough
not
to fight, sometimes. We’ve gone through plenty of bikers winding up in jail because they don’t know when
not
to fight. So, there. Pep talk over.” After a few seconds of silence, he added, “Let me make it up to you, come on over for a good hard fuck.”

Before the last remark, Raven’s heart was nearing her throat, but the sentimental feelings were brushed away in a hurry. After a quick roll of the eyes, she said, “Thanks, but I’ve already got plans for the night.
 
For
every
night, as a matter of fact.”

Gunner didn’t seem fazed.
 
“Yeah, yeah, fine. Just finish up. I wanna get outta here.”

"Born to Be Wild" blared from Raven's phone on the end table. She had been sleeping on her stomach on Allan’s couch, and at the loud ring, her head jolted up. She fumbled for it, sliding it off the table and onto the floor where it landed hard while Steppenwolf kept ringing out.

After an angry sigh, she slid to the edge of the bed and reached down. The screen was now facing up, and she saw the insignia for the Rising Sons. The contact under the picture read “The Club,” and her heart picked up speed. She accepted the call and pulled the phone up from the floor.

"Yeah?" Raven tried to keep her voice low. Allan wasn’t exactly a heavy sleeper, and she didn't want him overhearing any club business.

"Bear’s been picked up by the law. Get to the clubhouse immediately. This is your fault."
Click.
There was no nonsense in Trask’s voice.

Raven pushed herself to a sitting position as she slowly lowered the phone from her ear. She could hear her heart pounding in her chest, and any hope of a relaxing morning was destroyed.

Looking around, she spotted her t-shirt and threw it back on over her sports bra. Raven eased herself up, and after checking to make sure that the cop was still asleep in his bedroom down the hall, Raven made her silent escape.

When she noticed she looked like a wreck in the mirror, Raven didn’t waste the time to fix anything.
 
Whatever was going down, she needed to get back to Los Bandoleros right away, and that meant speed over beauty.

Once she was out of the house, Raven didn't give a damn if she woke Allan up. She fired up her Harley and revved the engine to warm it up. Three minutes after getting the call, Raven sped out of the cop’s driveway back to the Rising Sons Motorcycle Club.

As she drove, Raven tried to figure out what had happened. It was just past ten in the morning, Bear had been arrested, and somehow it was her fault. That was just what she needed the day after beginning the initiation process. So much for loyalty. Whatever she had done to get Bear locked up in jail probably wouldn’t earn her any brownie points.

It hit Raven that the arrest must've had something to do with the fight at the bar the previous night. Nothing else she had done could come back on any member of the club. If anything, the things that they had done would come back on her. It was common knowledge that any illegal activities usually fell onto the prospects. It was the price one had to pay to play the game.

The wind blew back her hair harder as Raven pushed the Harley to its limits. Confusion drove her. Another hole to dig herself out of, but how had she dug it? At a frustratingly long red light, she hung her head. What had Gunner meant? Why couldn't he have told her just a little more? She left a patch of rubber when the light turned green.

There were only three motorcycles parked outside the bar when Raven pulled up. She recognized her blood brother’s by the "Bad Habit" airbrushed onto the rear fender. Gunner’s bike was there, too.

The third motorcycle was Trask’s, and as soon as she saw him she remembered that his had the yellow pinstripes that started at the front of the bike and turned into flames at the back. Normally she would kick herself for not remembering each brother’s ride, but she had more important things running through her mind. The three Rising Sons were sitting at a table near the front door.

They looked up at the sound. Trask looked pissed. Tanner gave a faint smile, and Gunner motioned Raven to sit down. She pulled the chair out and said, "All right, what the fuck is going on?”

The young female prospect looked from face to face to face. No one said a word until she did. "Seriously. Somebody tell me what in the hell is going on."

Trask was clenching his jaw. He was angry, but not at her. He was angry at the situation. Despite Gunner and Tanner being more senior members, Bear was Trask's father. That meant the responsibility fell on him in Bear’s absence.

"The guy last night. The guy you threw out. His name is Earl McFadden, and he pressed charges." Trask was digging at his fingernails underneath the table, hoping no one could see.