Page 26 of Rough Start

“Yo, whore!” Grier yelled as he threw a full soda can that hit him in the abdomen. The pain caused Kye to lose his grip and fall from the crossbar to the ground. Fortunately, he landed on his feet, but the spot where it had hit him turned red and would likely bruise.

“Asshole,” Kye snapped and threw the can back at his friend who was seated on one of the couches near the pool tables. Grier ducked, and the can hit the wall where it exploded and fizzed all over the floor.

“I can’t watch you do another pull-up,” Grier said from his lounged position. Kye was walking over to him while wiping his face with his discarded t-shirt. “You’ve been doing nothing but exercise for three days; what are you pushing for, a modeling career?”

“Just trying to burn off some energy,” Kye said as he dropped to the floor and began doing pushups.

“Need to get your dick sucked?” Grier asked as he shifted to rest his legs on Kye’s bare back instead of the table where they’d been.

“I’m not interested in you like that,” Kye stated as he goaded his friend.

“Breaking my heart, pretty boy, but I wasn’t referring to me. Plenty of pussy to be had around here,” Grier said and waved for one of the Wall Kats to join him. A redhead in fishnets moved eagerly to his side, and he pulled her onto his lap.

“No, thanks,” Kye said, swatting Grier's feet off of his back as he stood and moved toward the punching bag.

“Want a joint?” Grier asked as the woman on his lap began kissing his neck.

“I’m good,” Kye brushed off as he started practicing his punches at the red piece of equipment.

“Man, I don’t get you,” Grier said, standing from the couch, the redhead on his lap tumbling uselessly to the floor with a squeak. Grier stepped over her and joined his friend where he held the bag in place to assist Kye in his swings. “You don’t partake of any of the spoils of war,” Grier continued in an almost whine. “You don’t get laid, you don’t take a hit, and I’ve never even seen you with a beer in your hand. What are you, a boy scout?”

“I pocket my money, that’s all the spoils I need,” Kye stated before landing another one-two combo.

“Virgin,” Grier insulted as he shoved the bag into him. Kye missed the block and took a hit to the chin then fell backward to the floor.

“How can I be a virgin when I’ve been fucking your mom every night this week?” Kye called after him. Grier stopped in his tracks and turned slowly to face Kye who was picking himself up off the mat, a cheeky grin on his face. Grier’s nostrils were flaring with restrained anger. “Yeah, you’d better call home, man. You could be a big brother by now.”

“You’re dead,” Grier snapped and hurled himself over the table to tackle Kye. The two boys rolled around on the ground exchanging punches and kicks, grabbing the attention of the other Demons. Starved for entertainment, the men and women in the clubhouse eagerly gathered to spectate.

The boisterous men began hooting and cheering on their choice of victor. Beers began cracking open as Grier took a hit to the jaw that filled his mouth with blood. Kye took an elbow to the sternum that knocked the wind out of him, and Grier took the opportunity to grab him in a headlock. Kye used his upper body strength to lift the other boy off the ground and slam him onto his back.

“We need help over here!” Everyone stopped in their tracks as the door to the clubhouse slammed open. Four of the senior Demons poured in, two of them carrying Max between them. Grier and Kye flew to their feet and hurried to help carry their leader over to one of the sofas.

“What happened?” Kye asked as he saw the blood pouring from Max’s abdomen. He instinctively applied pressure hoping to stop the flow.

“We got ambushed just outside of town. Shon went down in the gunfire,” Riggs answered. He was bleeding from somewhere under his helmet, and the red liquid was trickling down his forehead and nose.

“Who ambushed you?” Grier asked as he arrived with the medical kit from under the bar. He removed a thick roll of gauze and set to cleaning the wound.

“I don’t know,” Riggs said, shaking his head. One of the other members helped him take off his helmet and pressed a towel to his head.

“Another gang? The Rebel Riders?” a member asked. A sense of panic was setting in.

“No, they wore cuts, but they looked…” Riggs began but didn’t finish. His face was pale.

“They were defectors,” Wayne, the other senior rider who had been carrying Max, answered. “They wore Demon cuts with brandished logos.”

“Defectors?” Grier asked as he looked at Kye with concern. “I thought we squashed that rumor.”

“Apparently not,” Kye said quietly and with a shrug. His attention was drawn back to Max who began groaning as he awoke and tried to sit up. “Easy, Max, you’ve been shot,” Kye said, placing a hand on his mentor’s shoulder.

“No shit,” Max answered, holding a hand to his side. “You,” he barked at Grier, “go get Doctor Alan from the pharmacy on Hickory; he owes the club a favor. No one else, understood?” Grier nodded before scampering off at full speed. “Rest of you, piss off!” he yelled, and the others scattered. Max caught Kye by the arm to hold him in place as Riggs, Hamilton, Wayne and a rider named Duke all stayed.

“Who were they, Max?” Kye asked as he continued to try to keep Max still. Clearly, the man did not like laying in a position of vulnerability.

“I was right about it being an inside job,” Max began, “whoever has been pilfering our merchandise was doing it to fund a chapter of defectors. They’ve built up a nest egg and now they’re trying to weasel in on our routes. The boys and I were securing our warehouse when we got attacked. Not only did they know where the storage unit was, they knew we were coming.”

“That’s not possible,” Kye replied, shaking his head. “That would mean the source of the defectors is…”