Road Tripped (Satan's Devils MC Utah #1) - Manda Mellett Page 0,13

questions left unanswered. Lost had been furious, and he and Demon will have compared notes, that’s for certain. Drummer would have been fully briefed. What I can’t work out was how any trail led to Utah.

Stormy’s fuckups were what Pip hadn’t forgiven him for, and that’s why he’s back sat around this table. He’s as frustrated as hell and intent on making us all suffer for the instruction that saw him brought home.

Instead of withering under the weight of Pip’s threat, Stormy sits back sullenly and folds his arms. “Then make him fuckin’ prospect for us.”

Pip raises his chin and shows he’ll give credit where it’s due, whatever direction it’s come from. “Stormy’s made a suggestion. It’s got merit. Has it got legs?”

“Fuck that,” Duty says. “I presume he’s already done that shit. I can’t see him agreeing to that.”

I raise my hand. “Road patched in two years back after doing his full prospecting time.”

“But only twelve months for Tucson.” Duty acknowledges my comment with a nod. “Even so, he won’t want to prove himself all over again.”

“He’s not proved himself, not to our satisfaction,” Unusually, Honor offers an alternative view to Duty. “Our prospects work longer and harder.”

“Because they need extra skills.” Preacher looks down to the opposite end of the table. “Doesn’t mean he can’t show us what hidden talents he might be able to bring, or if he could be taught shit he doesn’t yet know. Why not team him up with Stormy?”

I snort. Loudly.

“We want him to learn skills, not how to piss people off.” Thor chortles at his own joke.

Pip raises his hand. “There have been some good points made. Let’s break them down. By the time we bring someone to the table, we know their strengths. They’ve learned how to work with us and can immediately contribute to getting what’s needed done. Road is an unknown, we know fuck all about him. He’s like Igor, halfway through his first year and just about having learned to ask how high when I say jump. Road will have the basics, but we don’t know what else he can bring to the game.”

“Probably got damn good riding skills. Could use him for chasing people down.”

“If he’s physically capable,” I jump in, correcting Piston. “We can’t judge him on how he can handle a bike while his leg is still healing.” Why the hell I’m feeling protective about the man, I don’t know.

Bolt raises his hand, then gently lowers it to the table. I thought for a moment he was going to slam his fist down, but I’m glad he didn’t. It cost a fucking fortune. He meets my eyes and grins sheepishly, then moves his head in the other direction and looks at Prez. “I don’t mind working with him, if you want to partner him up with someone.”

“Swift.”

Hearing my name, I turn sharply toward Pip, ready to do whatever he wants of me.

“You take Road under your wing.”

“Me? What? Why?” My brow furrows. It was the last thing I expected him to suggest and the last thing I bloody well want. “I don’t need a partner, Prez.”

“Doubt he’ll be a partner, more a fuckin’ liability.” Stormy smirks at me while my eyes narrow and promise him retribution later. He just opens his hands in a gimme gesture, telling me to bring it on. Oh yeah, he’ll get it. I’ve had enough of this. Later, I mouth at him, and his lips quirk. Guess both he and I could do with working out our frustration.

“You could do with teaming up with someone, Swift.” Pip won’t have missed Stormy and my non-verbal communication, but ignores that he’s got two members gearing up for a fight. “Like our brother at the end of the table, you like working alone too much.”

I bristle at the suggestion I’m not a team player. It’s not how I see myself. “I have your backs, Prez.”

“Of course, you do.” Pip smiles at me. “No one would deny that.”

What he leaves unsaid is that in a way I am like Stormy—I don’t trust anyone to see things in the same way as myself. It’s all the training I’ve got behind me which they’d never be able to imagine and probably wouldn’t survive. But his observation that I’m like the morose man sitting a few seats away from me pulls me up. Is that what I’ll end up like? Disgruntled and having no time for anyone else? Never feeling any emotion but anger? Nah, no way,