Page 25 of Hell On Heels
“This is just a ride to take a look around. No show of force unless we have to.”
When most of the brothers laughed, Teller headed for his bike. Someone was gonna end up in the hospital or jail by the end of the day.
It was a great day for a simple run out of the city. Hit a few bars, maybe grab food. Hell, maybe even visit a couple of the gentlemen’s clubs. Sighing, Razor threw a leg over his bike and settled into the saddle. Looking to his right he saw Vicious lighting a smoke. Reaching out he waited for the brother to hand it over. If he couldn’t have one damn day for pleasure, he’d smoke a little to ease the tension.
Taking a long pull on the blunt he passed it back to Vicious.
“We good?”
“Not yet. But we’re getting there.”
“Let me know when we arrive.”
“Maybe.”
Razor chuckled and passed the blunt to Truck, then climbed on his ride. They had business to attend to. No time for bullshit. Joker signaled for everyone to line up.
“Hey.” Vicious grabbed Razor’s attention.
“Yeah?”
Knowing Razor like he did, Vicious could tell he was on edge and probably hoping for a fight. So, he did something he normally wouldn’t do, he gave up the real reason for the ride.
“This is Tank’s patching up ride. No-one knows,” Vicious told Razor, then laughed when he saw the look on the brother’s face. “Now, fucking chill.”
Razor scrubbed a hand down his face, it was hard switching fucking gears so fast. But, even though Vicious said it was a patch ride, didn’t mean they weren’t scouting the area for other clubs.
One by one kickstands lifted as each bike fired up, engines growled like thunder rolling across the concrete. The scent of motor oil and exhaust clung to the air as they pulled out of the lot, kicking up dust.
It was a blur of chrome, denim, and black leather moving through the stillness of the street. The line of bikes stretched down the road, each one gleaming beneath the sunlight, custom paint shimmering under the early afternoon sky. The deep rumble echoed off quiet nearby buildings, a sound that sent a pulse through the ground.
They wound their way through back streets until they hit the main drag running through Montreal. When they pulled up to a red-light Razor glanced around, checking his brothers. It was quiet for a Sunday, but most people were still in church or bed. This wasn’t a social call, this was a surprise attack.
Most clubs partied all weekend and recovered on Sunday. Which meant they were gonna be surprising a whole lot of drunk and/or hungover fuckers.
The traffic light turned green. Razor shifted into gear and rolled on with the line of bikes. The rumble from the bikes reverberating through the empty streets like a heartbeat in a silent chest. Old town was barely waking up as they passed through it.
The chapter was tight and disciplined, every rider’s posture taut with focus. Something was off about the whole situation. Razor felt out of the loop like something else was at play. Then it hit him…Vicious wasn’t joking. The ride was to get everyone away from the damn clubhouse where the sweeties and the ol’ ladies could set up for Tank’s patching party.
Fuckin Teller.No one would guess it since it was a Sunday and not a Saturday night.
A few minutes later, Teller led them into an empty parking lot of a restaurant.
When the bikes shut off silence rang louder than the roar of the engines had.
“I want everyone to be cool when we go inside this place!” Teller shouted, then headed for the front door.
The last thing Razor noticed was Vicious talking to Tank and the other two prospects. He watched as Vicious and Tank headed towards the back of the building leaving the two other prospects out front.Definitely a patching in.
Hustling across the parking lot, Razor stepped through the restaurant doors and saw indeed it was set up for lunch. Teller was signaling for everyone to head out the back door leading to a grassy area.
Everyone lined up on the grassy area just as Tank stepped around the building with Vicious.
When Tank stepped on the lawn, Vicious faced the man. “Tank, are you serious about pledging your life to the Royal Bastards?”
“Fuck yes!” He’d been a prospect for a year now and had tried hard to show his loyalty to the club.
“Would you fight for the right to wear our colors?” Vicious saw the acknowledgement in Tank’s eyes.
