Page 29 of Retribution
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Cobra
The mossy, earthysmell of the lakeshore filled Cobra’s nostrils as he sped along the Anaconda-Pintler Route on his journey to Missoula. He’d purposely avoided the interstate, preferring the quiet of the wide-open country road. The rush of cool wind swirled around him as he passed through forested mountains, then twisted and turned down through the canyon. Old mining relics, lush greenery, and wildflowers dotted the landscape. Continuing surges of adrenaline buzzed through Cobra and he let all the shit from the motel room evaporate in the air. Riding was his way of meditating and throwing away life’s bullshit. When he was on his Harley, he was one with the environment, and he felt alive in its purest form. Without the ride, there wouldn’t be any purpose to life.
During the three years Cobra had spent in the pen, the only thing that made him swear he’d never go back was how damn hard it was not being on a bike. The first and most important thing he’d missed was his Harley-Davidson—hands down.
When Cobra reached the Missoula city limits, he twisted the throttle and took a sharp turn down a small road. It’d been over a year and a half since he’d been around these parts, not to mention the clubhouse as well. The last time he was in Philipsburg, he didn’t want anyone to know he was back in Steel Devils’ territory, but this time around he wanted to see his brothers, and the shit about the off-limits dealing going on in Philipsburg was the impetus which took him on the road leading to the club.
Cobra high-fived Razor who manned the gates at the entrance to the club’s compound. He killed the engine and jumped off the bike then took out his phone to see if Dakota had called, but she hadn’t. A slow burn smoldered inside him whenever he thought of Dakota’s distrust in him. It had shocked him because he thought they’d gotten beyond all that, but apparently not. “If I wanted to fuck her, we would’ve done it by now,” he muttered as he put his phone back in his jeans pocket. There was no way she wouldn’t have been willing. She accused him of checking her out, well, her sassy little ass had been ogling him plenty. “Hypocrite.” Cobra shoved his hands in his front pockets and walked slowly toward the front door.
Offering her a place to stay had been one big fucking mistake. Everything about it from the very beginning had been an overcomplicated, impulsive blunder. Cobra paused and looked up at the darkening sky brushed with lavender and indigo clouds and the occasional glitter of a faraway star. He blew out a deep breath then clenched his jaw. At the end of the week he’d get her the hell out of there, and then go back to the Sapphire Mountains and pitch a tent. Yeah, they’d go their separate ways, and all the bullshit would stop. Dakota could keep the fucking phone and do whatever the hell she pleased. He’d be finished.Done and outta the damn town once the MC resolves the disrespect that’s going on there.
Hell, she could do her thing, and he could go back to being responsible for just one person—himself. Cobra took a deep breath and let it out slowly before walking into the clubhouse.
Ink spotted him right away. The dude was still uglier than a monkey’s armpit, and his mouth hung down like he was seeing a ghost.
“Fuck, bro, whaddaya think … that I’m dead and have come back to haunt your sorry ass?” Cobra said as he strode over to him.
“Cobra … it’s been too fuckin’ long,” Ink said, pulling him in for a bear hug.
“Spending too much time in solitary made you a goddamn hermit,” Hulk joked as he clasped Cobra on the shoulder. “How’re you doin’, dude?”
“Good.” Cobra rubbed Hulk’s rounded belly. “I see that you’re being taken care of.”
“Fuck you.” Hulk laughed and placed both hands on his stomach and shook it like a bowl full of jelly.
Cobra guffawed and smacked him on the back. “I heard you got a new bike. I gotta see it.”
“Whose been talking about me?” Hulk’s eyes narrowed.
“Me,” Grinder answered as he came over.
Hulk’s eyes widened and a group of members who’d sauntered over broke out in laughter. A large grin broke across Hulk’s face before he joined in and did the same.
“Glad you’re back,” Grinder said to Cobra.
“Me too.” He waved his hand around the large room. “I’ve missed this.”
A tall, skinny man who didn’t look to be more than twenty came over with a bottle of beer and a double shot of whiskey. Cobra lifted his chin at the dude and took the drinks from him, and the young man slinked away.
“How many prospects you got?”
“Three,” Grinder said, bringing the beer bottle to his mouth.
“And seven club whores,” Pee Wee added. “One of thems got such sweet big tits. I remember you like ’em big.” He chortled.
“Remember how we used to fuck in the hot tub?” Ink asked.
“Yeah,” Cobra replied.
“You hooking up with some big-titted honey in Philispburg?” Pee Wee asked.
Dakota wearing a yellow tank top that covered her small, perky breasts flashed through his mind.
“Nah.” He took a drink of beer.
“Then Shania’s the one for you, brother,” Grinder said, putting an arm around him.
