Abby was like a wildfire, consuming everything in her path.
She had a knack for pushing my buttons, and today was no different. But instead of the usual urge to take her to bed, I was more inclined to toss her off a cliff.
She’d used Kim’s name like a weapon and then ignored me.
I could feel my face heating up as I glared at her back.
Abby was engrossed in her art, a therapy-ordered activity. It was good to see her back at it. She’d been talented as a teenager, and I was curious to see what her adult mind would create.
But the piece she was working on, with Blake as her muse, scared me. And I hated to admit it, but it also made me jealous.
She kept painting, the only sound in the room the scrape of her palette knife against the canvas.
Fine.
This conversation was over, and I had other things to do.
I left without saying goodbye or reminding her about the debriefing tonight. I knew she’d show up. Abby was like a cat, she did things on her own terms and wouldn’t be rushed.
Stepping out of the studio, I was hit by the bright afternoon sun. It was hot and dry, but I didn’t care as I put on my aviators. I had things to take care of.
“Did it go well, boss?” Ox asked, leaning on the golf cart’s steering wheel.
“Absolutely—perfect,” I replied, sinking heavily into the passenger seat.
“To the brewhouse?”
“Yeah,” I grunted.
Ox turned the key and hit the pedal, sending us down the main track towards the Harrison Ranch Brewhouse.
Ten acres can seem like a lot and not much at the same time. The lane was dusty and hard, just like the rest of the ranch. We still had barbed wire around the property, but the unwelcoming vibes were gone.
We drove past the bare bones of the new greenhouse. The greenhouse was the latest project at Harrison’s Ranch: farm-to-table foods. We already had goats, which were great for keeping the grass and fields trimmed.
I never thought an old MC compound could change so much, especially with bikers still owning it.
“This place is incredible,” Ox voiced my thoughts. “It wasn’t always like this, right?”
“No.” I shook my head. “No, it wasn’t. I remember the first time I came to the Mother Charter compound. I didn’t have a single patch on my cut, and my bike was more rust than bolts.”
Ox snorted.
“Back then, all we had was the main house, the clubhouse, and the garage,” I said, gesturing towards the ranch.
Ox whistled in awe.
“Now we have the brewhouse, the garden, the goats, and the gun range—”
“Abby’s Range,” Ox corrected.
I nodded. Abby did spend a lot of time there. The crew had gotten so used to seeing their VP there, whether she was painting or shooting, that it was no longer just the “gun range” but “Abby’s Range.” And if she needed to escape or blow off steam, I’d rather it be there than anywhere off the ranch. Because when she was away from home, she was self-destructive.
That’s how she got mixed up with HellBound in the first place.
We arrived at the brewhouse.
A large two-story building, the brewhouse had been a pain to build. And getting the equipment was even harder. But the money we spent on it, we’ve made back tenfold. If there’s one thing bikers know, it's good beer.
“It’s strange, isn’t it?” Ox looked up at the building.
“What is?”
“A bunch of bikers making beer?” Ox’s grip shifted on the steering wheel. “Farming and running a restaurant? When most are high school dropouts?”
“That’s not all we do—”
I was taken aback.
That was the most I’d ever heard Ox say, and it was surprisingly eloquent.
“Maybe,” I finally said, trying to hide my surprise. “But I get it. A bunch of hard-headed guys cleaning up their act like they planned it all along. It’s strange but good.”
“Weird-good,” Ox mused.
“When I took over for Roach as president,” I continued, “I thought it would be business as usual. Ride bikes, drink beer, and defend our territory. But thanks to Kim and The Plan, we’ve become so much more.”
“The guys talk a lot about Kim, but I came around after she was gone. What was she like? Was she like Abby?”
I laughed, but it came out more bitter than I intended. I didn’t answer right away. Ox fidgeted with the steering wheel.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “No, it's okay. Kim… she was the best example of what Satan’s Sons could be. Clean. Legit. Smart. But she wasn’t always like that. Like you, I wasn’t there when the twins were growing up, but Abby tells me Kim used to be the wild and unpredictable one while Abby was the studious wallflower.”
“Naw!” Ox slapped the steering wheel, causing a sharp honk. The sound caught the attention of a few of the workers in the brewhouse. “Not the same woman who tore off her own skin to escape HellBound?”
I nodded and climbed out of the golf cart. Ox turned off the cart and followed me toward the entrance.
The way Abby explained it, it’s like she and Kim switched personalities.
But I wasn’t sure if that was true. The girl I met that night long, long ago was a spitfire. Ready to defend herself from unwanted advances. A girl who knew how to get what she wanted, using her young, tight body and large innocent eyes.
Abby had always been powerful. She was just too young at the time to realize it.
Ox grimaced. “I’d hate to see what she’s like when she doesn’t play by the rules.”
“You and me both.”
Debriefings always started after the restaurant was closed.
No sense in scaring the patrons with a bunch of gruff bikers weaving between tables and high chairs of family diners. Yes, they knew this was a bikers' restaurant, but it was a different thing being surrounded by photos of leather-clad bikers and another thing to smell them coming.
It was a scent that I personally loved, the scent of leather, grease, and sun.
Everyone that was at the raid was now crammed into the members-only lounge. What was once three club bunks from when we had club girls, and little self-control was now a single lounge dedicated to full Satan’s Sons members. Only those who had earned their member's patch and name were allowed to set foot in here recreationally.
The MOL had the same setup as the main restaurant, with exposed brickwork and concrete floors. Red leather booths lined the east and west walls. There was a mini bar on the south wall, but it was never stocked with liquor. No need to tempt the recovering. Motorcycle frames and bits hung on the wall like art. Hell, to some, me included, it was art.
A few tasteful nudes and stolen signs filled the rest of the space.
I glanced at my watch.
Two minutes until we started, and we were still missing two vital members: Roach and Abby.
He looked around, saw what I already knew, and shrugged.
I should’ve sent Ox to get her. She had some weird soft spot for the giant guy. I pulled out my cell, ready to text her, when she slipped into the lounge. A few paint streaks smeared her face, and it annoyingly added to her charm.
Standing at the front of the bar, Abby took a stool to my left while Roach took the one to my right. I cleared my throat, and everyone settled in a booth, chair, or stood silently waiting for me to begin.
“Here’s what we know about the raid in Avoca,” I started. “It was a success.”
The bikers cheered.
I held my hands up, quieting the noise.
“Our sources were right about where they were hiding out and their cargo.”
“Little girls,” a biker muttered with disgust.
I nodded. “Not only that but there were at least thirty kilos of meth stashed in the rec hall under the floorboards. Which Ox was able to locate due to his highly effective skills in conversation with one of the Stonefish crew.”
Ox cracked his knuckles loudly, and the room cheered again.
“The drugs,” I continued, “the girls, HellBound, and Stonefish idiots were all left for the police to find, wrapped up in a nice and pretty bow.”
“Any cash?” Someone in the crowd asked.
“You know it,” I confirmed. “A little over six grand was recovered from the surrounding cabins as well as guns and ammo, which we will make available to you in the range.”
Fuck yeah’s and high fives went around the lounge.
“What about Blake?” Abby asked quietly.
Roach threw her a look, but she ignored it.
The rest of the crew excitedly talked about how easy the raid had gone. How spectacularly Abby took out three HellBound members before the lights were cut out. Only Roach and I heard Abby.
“Now’s not the time.” I brushed her off.
Abby crossed her arms, then said louder, “What about Blake? He was supposed to be there too.”
Now the rest of the lounge heard her and looked at me for an answer.
Damn woman, not only was she fire, but she held my feet to it also.
“No,” I finally answered. “Blake was not at the location.”
“But he was supposed to be,” Abby said harsher. Now the lounge had grown so silent no one dared breathe too loud. They knew this tone as well as I did.
Abby had a target, and she was damn well gonna hit it.
No matter who was in the way.
“He might have been,” Roach answered for me. “We might have missed him. You know he doesn’t stay in one place too long. Blake's smart. He’d have to be an idiot to go through Satan’s Sons’ territory.”
“But his men were there,” Abby argued. “Even his satellite gang was there.”
It’s true. A lot of larger gangs, especially those one percenter gangs, the heavily criminally active ones, had satellite or dummy motorcycle gangs to do all their dirty work. That’s what Stonefish was for HellBound.
“Blake has even more reason to get out of here,” Roach countered.
Abby was about to respond when her phone buzzed in a unique pattern. It was a sound that could only mean one person was calling. She dropped her argument and checked her message, a smile spreading across her face.
She turned the screen so I could see:
Well, shit.
